This is only only going to be two chapters.

It's an AU if Bucky survived the fall, meaning he wasn't found by Hydra and turned into The Winter Soldier, which will be seen in the next and final chapter.

I hope you guys enjoy it.

Lillian Kinney, a young nurse of 21, knew it wasn't the ship that was making her stomach queasy or even the horrors that awaited her to a battle wrecked foreign land.

She wasn't delusional. She knew the cost of war. There were going to be a lot of brave men who she would get to know that wouldn't make it back to their homeland. She wasn't naïve when she assisted Doctor Jones in examinations granting young men – boys – she knew around her low income neighborhood in their wish in fighting for their country. Yet as she prayed clutching her battered rosary, despite the fact she long abandoned her parish, she slept a little better knowing that not one of her childhood friends, neighbors, or friends' boyfriends or husbands were assigned to the 107th infantry regiment where she was working as an army nurse… except one.

James Barnes, better known as Bucky, or now Sergeant Barnes, was standing in front of her in his olive brown military pants, brown boots, and white t-shirt. She could see the outline of his silver dog tags underneath his damp shirt soiled by sweat. Gone were his ironed brown slacks and suspenders with a white dress shirt underneath and penny loafers. Lillian Kinney knew the young Sergeant as her family used to live across the street from the Barnes family before her family eventually moved to a more upscale neighborhood due to her father's promotion. However, she had still seen the oldest Barnes boy out during social events as her sister was the same age as him and Lillian was acquainted with his younger sister Rebecca.

She watched as Bucky pushed a sweaty piece hair out of his face giving her a sheepish smile. She knew that the soldiers' quarters of the ship were much more cramped compared to the space of the nurses. She had seen glimpses of the hammocks that men were living on while the nurses actually got beds. Bucky even seemed uncomfortable of his sweaty and grimy skin with his five o'clock shadow covering his jawline. He also kept a notable distance most likely so she wouldn't smell him.

Other than his unkempt appearance, he seemed the same man she knew around the neighborhood growing up, from his dark chocolate hair to the amused smirk that seemed to always be in place that complimented his sparkling cerulean eyes. She wasn't surprised that he would be in the army. Bucky was the epitome of health, one sought after for the army, and she was sure his training as a boxer made him more desirable to recruitment agencies.

"Steve mentioned you were a nurse." He said with a wide smile showcasing his white teeth and his untainted youth.

"I patched him up a few times," The brunette nurse replied with a small smile at the thought of Steven Rogers. He frequently came through St. Mary's for frequent check-ups due to numerous ailments that affected his small frame with the occasional busted lip. She also remembered his eagerness to join the war the last time he came through the hospital, despite both of them knowing on his asthma alone they wouldn't accept him. However, she had her suspicions that he was capable of lying on enlisting cards, in spite of how much of a proper gentleman Steve Rogers was raised as. "Is he here with you?"

"No," Bucky said shaking his head. A rueful smile came across his face before it flickered away, "he is 4F."

"Well, there are other ways to support the war effort." She supplied although a part of her was glad Steve wouldn't face the horrors that await all of the brave men on the ship.

"I said the same thing, but he is too stubborn to listen." Bucky muttered darkly. "How's your sister?" He asked as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Lillian knew Bucky and Alma ran in the same crowd back in Brooklyn both notorious for their ways at the dance halls.

Now she was frowning and she swiped a piece of her brown hair out of her face and behind her ears. Her family did not support her at all signing up to tend to men overseas and Alma, her oldest and only sister, took it the hardest given her current predicament. "Alma…she got in a bit of trouble."

"She going to be okay?"

"We'll see in about seven months." She said thinking about the scandal her sister brought upon the family as the father wasn't claiming the child at all. "How's Rebecca?"

A genuine smile graced Bucky's pink lips as his eyes gleamed with the mention of his sister, "She's good considering…" He trailed off. His eyes dimmed and he focused on the water rippling below them instead of her face before he cleared his throat. His voice jumped a few octaves, "just turned 18 though."

She smiled inside as his voice turned sour. The brotherly concern showing through at the thought of his sister growing up and soon men will be calling upon her. She could picture it as God was very generous when it came to the Barnes family. "I guess it is a good thing most men are overseas." He added lightly as he scratched his scruffy chin.

"Rebecca's a good girl besides the way she adores you… she wouldn't want to disappoint her big brother."

Bucky smiled at her, a wide genuine smile she had seen over the years. She didn't expect it to hurt seeing it. She squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach began protesting. She opened her whiskey eyes and could feel them burning from a mixture of thoughts and emotions brewing inside. "I should go." She said abruptly, but Bucky nodded in response. "It was good seeing you, Bucky. Take care of yourself alright."

Bucky stood up straighter and more rigid taking the stance of a soldier. "I will. You take care of yourself too, Lillian."

They both don't leave right away, but lingered.

She memorized every detail about the man in front of her as she thought that was going to be the last time she would see Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn untainted by the war.

…

Lillian knew her school education and shifts in the ER would have never prepared her novice hands and skills for the battle wounds she tended on a daily basis. She was constantly elbow deep in stomachs looking for shrapnel or her small aching fists plugged gaping holes in calves of men screaming for their lost limb.

Every day she found her nurses' slacks and shirt caked in blood. The fatigued young nurse long ago abandoned trying to clean the blood out of her nurses' dress. When she took off the garments her chest and stomach were stained in a deep red dried like mud and cracked like her dry chapped lips. Everything was stained red. It was like she bathed in a valley of blood. She swam in the red sea every day. She was sure with all the blood being shed in the war a body of water containing the lost souls of the battles would form.

It had been like this since she and all of the 107th were sent to Italy in July after a month stay in England.

Nothing could have prepared her for the battle conditions from the smell, to the cold looks in soldier's' eyes, and the echoes of gunshots and grenades. Sometimes she deluded herself into thinking she was just experiencing fireworks when the skies would light up.

She was so used to red she wasn't prepared for the glimpse of blue she saw beneath it.

She and all the nurses were prepared for more causalities than normal as the Head Nurse and Doctor explained the men were going to try and push back Axis' forces on the front line. We all need to be extra vigilant, they said. But they couldn't hide the anxiety of how unprepared they were for the harsh conditions that would be filling their tents.

She could say she prided herself on being able to compartmentalize. She never let the faces of the men she tended distract her like some of her co-workers. Many of them had formed attachments to the men, even though it being very clear that there weren't supposed to be any fornication between the nurses and soldiers. One nurse already got sent home, as she could no longer hide the life growing inside her.

Lillian had lost track of how many men were coming inside the medical ward as her throbbing feet went from patient to patient. She could taste the agony every time the medic came back with a new body in the truck. Names and faces were blurring until the last tent in her section was filled with a man who had a stomach wound from being hit with shrapnel.

She was wiping some of the excess dirt off the man's face to check for any other injuries when piercing blue eyes connected with her exhausted bloodshot whiskey ones. She faltered in her task as she stared down at a wounded Bucky Barnes.

She only had seen Bucky a few times since their talk on the ship two months ago. The first time was when he and a few other men were giving themselves a tour of their makeshift home in the Italian heat. She and a few nurses were enjoying a meager lunch when the men passed catcalling, all except Bucky who gave her a small smile and a nod of the head.

The other two times were all in passing when he would come into the medical tent to visit his injured comrades.

On those days, she always had lingering thoughts that she was glad he never made it inside of a tent on a cot drenched in his own blood. They never said anything to each other only a polite head nod and a smile that got smaller. It was almost like they both knew what could happen if words were spoken as if they were afraid to hear the changes the war brought upon them.

Now he was here on a worn and damp cot. His skin was warm and sticky against her hands. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she began methodically asking him questions to ensure there wasn't any damage to his hearing, sight, or state of mind. He responded to all her questions with a shaky breathe and a sweet smile, as if he wasn't here with his blood coating her hands.

Lillian released a breath she didn't know she was holding when the head nurse announced his wounds weren't life threatening. But she needed to compartmentalize since she was in charge of removing the shrapnel and stitching his stomach in his left lumbar region.

Her eyes burned as she tried to focus anywhere but his eyes that were silent and terrified.

She tried to ignore how his blood coated her shaky hands and found a home underneath her fingernails.

Red and blue collided.

…

It was late at night and almost the end of Lillian's shift when she finally made it back to the enclosed examination room she had been actively avoiding since mid-afternoon. It seemed after Bucky the men retreated from battle and only a few more injured were brought in.

She ignored the screams and moans of agony as she walked down the hall to the last tent in her section. He needed his stitches checked and then she would be done for the night.

"Sergeant Barnes, it's Nurse Kinney coming to check on your stitches," She announced outside the flap before letting herself in the room.

He was lying on his cot shirtless exposing his bandage. The white a stark contrast to his darken skin from dirt and the sun. He gave her an exhausted smile and corrected weakly, "It's Bucky."

Flat brown waves shook lightly as she smiled at his correction. She felt her professional demeanor slowly chipping away. "How are you feeling Bucky?" Lillian questioned as she grabbed a pair of latex gloves and moved a metal dented stool to the side of his bed. She swiftly, but delicately, removed the bandage covering the mended wound revealing no sign of redness or swelling.

"Better now that you're here, doll." He commented as he looked down to his broken skin.

Lillian bit back the unladylike snort wanting to escape from her throat. She could barely keep track of how much she heard that simple line from lonely soldiers wanting a few extra minutes of her time. "I bet you tell that to all the nurses," she remarked with a raised eyebrow.

He gave her a wide smile. The injured Sergeant went to retort before he sucked in a pain breath as she gently prodded his left iliac fossa, the area below his stitches. Even through the gloves she could feel the warmth of his skin. The last thing she wanted was an infection. They were losing too many men to contagion alone from the conditions brought along by war.

"How would you rate the pain there on a scale of 1 to 10?" Lillian asked gently and she saw him hesitant a little and she added with a pointed look, "Don't lie either."

Bucky's shoulders deflate as he mumbled, "Maybe a 5."

She moved her hand to his hypochondrium area and pressed gently and looked at him where he just shook his head. "Is there any blood in your urine?" She asked while she wrote notes down on his form.

"No ma'am."

"Okay, well you are going to be in here for three days before we move you to general so we can make sure the wound doesn't get infected and you will have stitches up to two weeks. You will be off the line until we remove the sutures. Any questions?" Bucky shook his head. "Okay well I am going to clean your stitches now."

As she meticulously cleaned his wounds, she was aware of his cornflower eyes following her every movement, and unlike other soldiers he didn't try to fill the silence of the room with stale flirting. Instead, he kept quiet. Lillian was used to this also. Men lost in their thoughts as their mind was stuck on an instant replay of the horrors outside of the tent.

She sometimes thought it's the quiet of the ward that got to them. The ground didn't vibrate or sparkle. It's just a dull grey with the occasional moan, but it was not the battlefield they become conditioned too.

She had just covered the stitches with a clean bandaged as she didn't trust the condition of his cot when he finally spoke, "You're a good nurse, Lillian."

Her brown eyes flicked up to his face. He was watching her intently, his blue eyes burning with appreciation. "Maybe I just had a model patient."

He chuckled. She felt the vibrations against her stained fingertips that were pressed to the edge of his bandage, "Well my mom would tan my hide if I had terrible bedside manners to such an astounding nurse."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Sergeant Barnes."

"A man can only try right."

Lillian shook her head as she provided him with a clean shirt and placed his chart at the end of his cot. She watched silently as he settled back onto his cot and gave her thumbs up that he was okay.

Usually she would wish the soldier a good night and remind him that she was either in the hall, a call away, or tell him who her replacement was. She never asked personal questions outside of medical questions. She never got involved until now – until Bucky. "How are you doing, Bucky?" She asked in a quiet voice unsure of the boundary she was crossing as she approached his bedside once again, but as a friend instead of a nurse. She watched as Bucky's face went blank and his eyes wondered around the tent as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

His rough calloused hands took ahold of her small smooth ones and squeezed it gently before his grip slackened as if realized the intimacy of the act. A tortured smile settled upon his face, a humorless chuckle passed his chapped lips that prompted him to lick the torn flesh, "I've never been more…," a dry sobbed reverberated in his chest like an earthquake as his voice shook, "I've never been more scared in my life, Lill."

Lillian's heart broke as she saw his cerulean eyes begin fading as a storm began to brew.

…

Lillian was checking inventory with other nurses when Martha, a real Sheba around the base with her perfectly curled red hair and matching ruby lips, broke the mundanity of the task and spoke to her.

"So rumor is you that you knew Sergeant Barnes before the war?" Martha asked curiously mixed with disdain that Bucky would associate with someone as plain as Lillian, as she heard Martha categorize her as once before.

Lillian turned to look at Martha, who was looking at her nails for chip marks. Lillian thought it was sometimes unnatural given the conditions they were living in that the redhead would present herself like a showgirl, but maybe the men needed it and it seemed Martha needed it too.

"We grew up in the same neighborhood." Said Lillian succinctly as she marked down how many small bandages for minor wounds they had as she moved onto another rack containing medicine.

"Is he sweet on someone?"

"Not that I am aware of," Lillian replied as she wrote down the number of morphine left in the basket wishing the conversation would be over. It seemed she got her wish as Martha didn't ask her any more questions, but had a determined look on her face.

…

Lillian could tell Bucky missed Brooklyn – his home. Despite the joy in his voice it was thick with nostalgia and the unsaid fact that he might never see his family again.

She understood it too. She wished she could be there for Alma and witness the birth of her nephew, as Alma only wanted a boy. She yearned for a Coney dog and the steady traffic of New York. She even missed old cranky Mr. Hiller barking at his radio while listening to a baseball game.

She yearned for a chance to forget the horrors of war that would forever haunt her.

It was Bucky's last day in the medical ward and she tried to ignore the pang of sadness that clutched at her chest. Neither of them had mentioned what he revealed his first night in the tent. Instead, she watched Bucky socialize animatedly with the other wounded soldiers on bed rest and flirt shamelessly with the nurses for the past two weeks – Martha included. She ignored the uncomfortable feeling that seeped into her bones when she witnessed the pink stain cheeks and giddy whispers about Bucky in mess hall after their encounters with him.

"As I said before Lill, you're a good nurse. Won't even have a scar," Bucky praised as he eyed his stomach before giving her his signature bright smile showing his teeth that luckily he still had. Sometimes she wondered how he could smile so brightly in this mess.

"You'll have a little scar." She countered as she eyed the light line on his abdomen. She quickly averted her eyes and focused on the metal tray on the table next to her to hide the blush forming on her cheeks. She had seen more than what Bucky had exposed, but she actually knew her patient and it didn't help that he was able to maintain his boxer physique despite the rations of the war.

Bucky shrugged as he placed his white shirt back on and stood there silent in the exam room and watched she fill out his medical form. She was used to soldiers staring. It was part of the job as men wanted a piece of home – something familiar to touch to soothe the ache.

However, those men weren't Bucky. She was much more aware of her make-up free face and limp auburn hair. Or the chipped nail polish on her nimble fingers with blood and dirt caked underneath. She knew that her uniform didn't fit like it did in the beginning. She was plain just as Martha defined her.

She looked back up at him and couldn't help the blush that was now fully exposed on her cheeks as he was still looking at her intently. "Questions, Sergeant Barnes?"

He blinked his eyes and smiled at her embarrassed as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He shook his head and gave her that sweet smile she suspected he had practiced a million times in front of a mirror to perfection.

"I better not see you back in here, Bucky," Lillian said firmly with no real venom although she was deadly serious.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll see you around, Nurse Kinney." He flashed her one last smile before he walked out the tent with his promise she hoped he kept.

…

She was surprised when she was handed three letters instead of two. The only people that sent Lillian letters were her sister Alma, who was about 5 months pregnant, and her parents, who were still upset she was overseas, unwedded, and letting Alma live in her home in sin. She wasn't expecting a third letter and most of all for it to be from a Rebecca Barnes. She smiled as the letter pleaded for her to not mention to Bucky she wrote or better yet that apparently she had been a main topic in Bucky's recent letters. Lillian's cheeks burned at the thought of Bucky mentioning her to his sister. It wasn't as if she didn't know Rebecca, but it felt personal that Bucky would take the time to write about her nursing skills and that he had been evading answering Rebecca's questions if he was sweet on her.

Her smile turned into a frown and her heated blush turned into cold dread. She hadn't seen Bucky since he left the medical tent as he was immediately sent out back to the front line. She waited with bated breath for his return, but Bucky wasn't her fella.

She chastised herself for letting herself become attached to Bucky.

But she couldn't help and reply back to Rebecca's letter.

…

The summer was quickly fading into fall.

She missed seeing green turning into orange. She missed the cool breeze that danced with leaves. She was tired of the dry wind that surrounded her in Italy. She desired to replace the broken looks of soldiers heading out to dig trenches with kids becoming glum at the prospect of school starting again.

She wished her feet ached from walking down the sterile hallways of hospitals instead of running to damaged men screaming for their mothers as she held their beaten hands and they took their final breaths.

It seemed the war was never going to end.

"You shouldn't wander off on your own." The voice was lite, but there was warning mixed in the tone.

Her desolate eyes found Bucky taking a seat next to her on the cool ground beneath a tree shielding them from the afternoon sun.

The war had officially taken the toll on his body. His blues eyes were slowing forming that haunted look from the ghosts chasing him from the battlefield back to base. No longer were they bright, but murky. He didn't walk around carefree anymore. His stride was stiff and jaded. His smiles were strangled and a struggle as he tried to make Lillian laugh on some days.

She didn't answer him even though she felt guilt-ridden about the worry evident in his voice. She knew it was stupid to wander off alone. She didn't get to answer anyways as he didn't give her the chance.

"What's that?" He asked after he did his initial inspection of her making note of any suspected injuries.

Lillian looked down into her hand where a small 5x7 black and white photo rested between her battered fingers. A strained smile comes across her face, "Alma had her baby." She revealed and leaned closer to him so he could get a better look at the photo, "She had a boy. Thomas Eugene Kinney."

"Woah, he's a big one, but a handsome one." Bucky said as he examined the photo with a small, but genuine smile. "Congratulations, Aunt Lillian. You're going to be a great aunt."

"You think so?"

"Of course, doll. Now I need to get you home sooner."

Lillian smiled appreciatively and her head found a home on his shoulder.

…

It was a cool night.

Bucky had somehow managed to convince Lillian to meet outside of the nurses' sleeping quarters when they both knew that they shouldn't be wasting the opportunity to sleep, or getting caught. It probably didn't help that Bessie, one of the older nurses who meant well, made a point to mention to Bucky that it was also Lillian's birthday. She was officially 22 years old, but she felt much order and fatigued for someone her age.

"So I know it isn't much," Bucky began as he looked at Lillian, the stars and moonlight made his blue eyes sparkle and she found it almost soothing – too comforting. "But, I hope you'll like it. So Happy Birthday," he said smiling brightly as he opened his palm.

Lillian looked down into his hand and found a paper origami. She picked it up delicately to examine it. It was the shape of a flower.

"It is a carambola flower." He said hastily. "One of the guys in my squad showed me how to make it." He added on and if it wasn't so dark she would have been able to make out the faint blush as his hand rubbed his neck anxiously.

"You made this?" Lillian said shocked that he took the time to even make something for her birthday on such short notice.

Bucky nodded his head slowly. His voice was meek, "I know it is-"

Lillian cut him off by giving him a hug being mindful of the delicate gift in her hand. Her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck and her senses were invaded the smell of gunpowder, sweat, and musk, but she would gladly make a candle of it. "I love it. Thank you."

Before she could stop herself she placed a chaste kiss on his dirty sunburnt cheek that had a 5 o'clock shadow. She felt him tense slightly but relaxed from the unexpected gesture. She pulled back glad the night could hide her blush. "I mean it, I really like it."

"Just wanted to give you something to remember me by," he spoke so softly she wasn't even sure she heard him right or even that he wanted for her to hear it.

"As if I could ever forget you," She replied sincerely.

She knew the words were true. And honestly, that scared her.

…

She didn't think much of it at first when a few men began trickling in. She knew replacements sometimes became too frightened and ran from the battle lines back to the Battalion HQ terrified out of their wits. Most of the earliest wounds Lillian tended were from friendly fire.

But soon she witnessed more men becoming hysterical talking about men evaporating in thin air from some type of blue glowing weapon. Most were sent back to England to see a head shrink, according to some whispers.

Then more men came back in small herds with broken bodies and minds that were out of Lillian's expertise in mending.

Never the whole 107th infantry emerged from the gates of trees that surrounded the camp.

She buried the worry for Bucky as she tended to the men who were dehydrated and had more physical wounds than the mental. All while she prayed to a God she slightly abandoned that the blue eyed Sergeant wouldn't appear on her table. Yet, she didn't know if that made her feel better or worse as she looked at the origami flower each night in her dirty bloodied palm.

Soon more men, even if it was only ten, came back looking battle worn and broken.

Not one of them had piercing blue eyes with an easy sweet smile.

Then the men stopped coming back at all.

When Lillian heard the words captured was when she finally allowed herself to cry, the paper flower wilted from her tears.

.

.

.

The 107th had turned into a remorse battle worn group.

They didn't sign condolence letters right away; they waited until the rain began when it was dreary and damp. They scouted the area for their missing soldiers, Lillian assumed they found the area where they were held, but they didn't want to risk losing more men. Those words belonged to Colonel Phillips, who was in charge of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, who appeared out of nowhere because of the mutterings about blue weapons. She ignored the fact she never even heard of the government sector.

She didn't pay any attention to it. She avoided answering Rebecca's letters sent in the last month since Bucky's capture. She didn't want to think of him as dead, but now that Phillips wasn't going to risk men they all had signed Bucky's death wish.

She was at the edge of a tent away from the medical field and the stage where some man named Captain America was putting on some type of show. Her mood had become incredibly sour and short in the past month and she preferred watching the thick and heavy rain. It was a nice interlude from the summer heat or the glowing of bombs.

"Lillian Kinney?" A male voice called out over the hefty rain smacking against the ceiling of the tent.

Turning around Lillian saw a tall man looking like a walking American Flag. Underneath his long trench coat splattered with raindrops, she saw a peak of spandexes colored red, white, and blue. She was unsure of what to make of the site in front of her as he approached cautiously.

"Do you need medical attention?" Lillian asked politely as she didn't recognize the man immediately and in her desolate mind she suspected the man was Captain America. But even if she was in a sour mood, potential patients and other people didn't need to be the receiver of it, well maybe only Colonel Phillips.

"No, no. It's me. Steve Rogers."

Lillian's whiskey eyes widened to the size of saucers as she gave Steve a once over flabbergasted. This was not the Steve she remembered. Steve was small and skinny. Steve and she were both the same height. Yet, despite the girth and muscle added to the new body of his, Steve's deep blue eyes and blonde hair were still the same. "But you're tall."

Steve chuckled lightly as he came closer to the shocked nurse and shrugged his shoulders. "That's what happens when you join the Army."

Lillian stood there in shock as she eyed the muscular man in front of her. She had half the mind to scold Bucky for not telling him about Steve's mind boggling transformation that did not come from joining the army because if it did maybe the war would have been over by now. Lillian's heart clenched, however, at the thought of Bucky and realized Steve probably didn't even know about his best friend.

Bucky off handedly mentioned how the war was a sore topic between the two childhood friends. Steve wanted to join, but was denied at every opportunity. Bucky was accepted on his first try. Bucky even mentioned the last time he saw his friend he was trying to enlist again and confirmed Steve would lie on his enlistment forms much to Bucky's chagrin. Lillian suspected the two haven't written since Bucky arrived overseas, at least since they moved to Italy.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked concerned from her silence and panic making her brown eyes darken, "Do you need to sit?"

Lillian shook her head a headache began forming behind her eyes as they began to burn.

"Steve, do you know where you're at?" Her voice was thick and hoarse.

He looked puzzled as he responded, "Italy."

"Yeah, but this is all that is left of the 107th." Lillian whispered meekly as hot tears streamed down her face. "They were captured about a month ago and they've given up…Bucky was with them."

…

She was surprised her heart didn't spontaneously combust or more medically appropriate die of a heart coronary.

Her cheeks were flushed and sticky from the hot tears at the site of the dirty, battle worn, handsome man in front of her in a secluded section of the medical tent.

Lillian was supposed to be giving him a thorough medical examination considering he was a prisoner for a whole month and the results were visible. His shirt was noticeably larger on his frame as they sagged from his broad shoulders. His hair was greasy and tangled and he didn't smell remotely clean. There were bruises littering his body and blood was dried in his ears. And those blue eyes were tortured.

Yet, somehow, he was smiling, looking at her, relishing in the attention she was showering him with.

"I take it someone missed me?" He teased; a cocky smile graced his dry lips.

"Don't joke. I was sick with worry. I-I…" Lillian trailed off as a set of fresh hot tears dampened her cheeks. She thought he was dead.

Bucky's smile twisted into a look of genuine concern. His rough grimy hand cupped her heated cheek and wiped away the tears, "Hey, I'm right here." He soothed as he drew Lillian into him right in between his brawny thighs. If she were in the right state of mind Lillian would have stammered and been embarrassed about the scandalous position they were in considering the flap of a tent wasn't much privacy.

His eyes trailed down to his dog tags she didn't realize she was clutching with her shaky hand. She was still slightly trembling from the overflow of emotions she experienced in the last 24 hours, all revolving around the blue eyed sergeant in front of her. She wondered when he became infused inside her like white blood.

"Lillian," he whispered drawing her attention back to him. Her full name was foreign on his tongue as he always addressed her by Lill or her last name.

She felt a faint pressure on her lower back drawing her closer to him. She knew she should've pulled back. She knew what was coming. She had been in this position before with angry soldiers with bruising hands. But they weren't Bucky. So she let him draw her snug against his chest and let him kiss her.

It was slow. Cautious. It was as if he was worried she would pull back and have second thoughts.

Instead she dropped the cool metal in her palm and kissed him back.

The kiss became wet and demanding with his teeth applying the right pressure to her bottom lip before his tongue began its sweet assault. His nectar drugging and making her forget the horrors that were outside the walls of the tent. Or the glaring fact that here she was kissing Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn.

She didn't think about how inexperienced she was compared to him. In fact, she didn't think about how Bucky was the only man she had kissed this intimately. But it felt right. It felt like coming home.

It wasn't until her fingers dug lightly into his shoulders where she had seen injection marks when he hissed in discomfort that brought her back to reality.

She immediately detached from him giving him an embarrassed smile. She ignored how her lips still tingled and how his were swollen.

"We need to finish your check up," she told him breathlessly.

Bucky gave her a sweet smile and nodded his head.

After he was thoroughly checked, with Steve outside the tent, before he left he placed a lingering kiss on her check.

Sometimes she thought that was when she started to hate winter.