It had been awhile since I had seen Bucky, and Steve. The war seeming to have a knack for cutting the ties of human bonds as if it were a mere string. Through rumors, and articles in the news I heard tell of the heroic advances our country was making, the shield which protected us, and kept us going being none other than Steve Rogers. The so called savior, and light amidst the depressing darkness, the one responsible for the flicker of hope within everyone fighting, and all the while I thought of how I used to have to reach things on the top shelf for him. 

He had grown up so much, literally, but also mentally as a truly magnificent soldier who stood his ground against all odds. An ever prominent wish for harmony glinting in his eyes, his courageousness, and gallant spirit not a force to be reckoned with. 

I had seen recent photographs of him, and he was finally a man who was able to break away from the body of a boy he was caged within, his inner most desires now capable goals that he could fulfill. 

I sat on my cot in one of the nurses tents, our Red Cross camp set up within a bombed out city in Europe. Since I no longer needed to stay by Steve's side because he was able to enlist I decided that I should do my part too. 

The hospital I was working at not adequate enough to squelch the guilt I had for all the men overseas that I could be helping, so I allowed myself to be shipped out while Steve was still training at Camp Lehigh, been here ever since. 

The atmosphere outside was plagued with the lingering grey smoke from the recent attack. The fires slowly being smothered with sand, and water. It hurt to breathe the second you stepped out, the burning pollution webbing around your lungs, and biting at your nose. 

The fiery embers, and charred ruins which were once buildings the backdrop for as far as you could see, expanding miles. The fumes of fire nonfluctuating, and the desolate city became nothing more than residue of brick, and wood. 

I laid down on the cot, the metal springs poking into my back, and I pulled out a small golden frame from my nurses apron pocket. In the incandescence of candlelight the image of Bucky, and me on our wedding day reflected in my weary gaze. 

Just today I had to amputate several damaged limbs, mended many deep set gouges, stitched up various holes caused by flying shrapnel, and had seen so much blood that I could create a whole new sea with it. So many had died, so many had lost apart of themselves, whether it was a limb, or a loved one, and while I witnessed the chaos I was selfish, and thought of my own loved one. Even when occupied with tending to the suffering masses. 

My apron was splattered with so much dry blood that you could no longer distinguish the once white fabric with the red cross stitched onto it. 

I forced myself to stand up, and poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher beside me, but the sudden melancholic wail of someone crying caught my attention. 

Stepping out of my tent I walked along the soot covered dirt road to the next tent over, and saw a little girl crying beside a corpse that was covered with a white sheet. She was sitting on the dirty ground, her bloodied hands cupped around her face, and I walked over to her. 

This ten year old one of the few who survived the air raid today, and I handed my glass of water to her, wanting to squelch her thirst rather than my own. 

There was nothing that I could say to help her for the circumstances wouldn't change no matter what words of comfort I may dole out. 

I unclasped my wool navy cape, and draped it around her shoulders before leaving. 

"Keep an eye on her." I ordered to one of the few soldiers who were patrolling the grounds of the camp. 

"That's not my job." I heard him utter, causing me to halt in my tracks. 

"Huh, that's funny. What is your job then? I think you're misunderstanding the word "soldier". Yes, a soldier fights, but a soldier fights to protect. You enlisted in the Army to protect your country, and innocent people. Well, there's an innocent girl." I countered, my words intertwined with venom before I walked away.                                                                                                                   

I went into the medical tent to check on a few patients, but then the unexpected familiar presence of a dear friend caught my attention. 

"Can I get an appointment with the prettiest nurse here?" 

My lips immediately curved upward, that well known voice like music to my ears. 

"Steve." 

"Hello, Becky." 

The heroic Captain smiled widely at me, hugging me tight, and lifting me up in the air to twirl me all around. 

"Wow, you're light." 

Playfully, I punched him in the chest, being lowered back to the ground. 

"And, who said you could do that?" 

"I've always wanted to sweep you off your feet, now I can." Steve bragged, making me roll my eyes before taking a good, non-pictured look at him. 

"You really do look different. Any side effects to the serum, Captain America?" 

"None yet, so do I look more handsome?" He flaunted jokingly, awakening a laugh out of me even now of all times. 

"Yes, actually. But, I'm sure even with your improved physique I could still beat you in a fight, and James is still more handsome." 

"Speaking of Bucky." Steve declared, pulling aside the green tents curtain, exposing the brunette Sergeant. 

Tears filled up in my eyes, and I ran up to hug him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and pulling him into a kiss. 

"It's good to see you again, doll." He whispered, holding me tight, and I buried my face in his chest. 

"I missed you so much..." I confessed, fighting back the swelling threat of sobs, but then I felt liquid against my nurses uniform, red spilling liquid to be more exact. 

I backed away, and noticed a gunshot wound in Bucky's side, the hole deep, and exposed. 

"You're hurt." 

"Yes." 

"What did I say?" I lectured, now annoyed. 

"You said no one can kill your Buck-Buck, and no one did. It's just a slight scratch." He replied, his pigmented blue eyes lively while looking at me. 

"Yeah, we'll see just how "slight" it is once I stitch it up." I retorted, forcefully pushing him down onto an unoccupied cot, and pulling his stained with scarlet shirt off. 

Fetching a couple surgical supplies I soaked a wad of gauze with alcohol, and rubbed it against the wound making Bucky bite his lower lip. 

Then I extracted the bullet out of the punctured area with a pair of forceps, digging into his flesh before dropping the bloodied bullet down onto the medical stand beside me. 

Snapping a long string of thread off from the spool with my teeth I then tethered it through a needle. 

While I sewed the injury closed Steve told me about the Howling Commandos, and how they've destroyed multiple HYDRA bases so far all across Europe. Their elite team developed to the surface by Steve himself, and I listened, knowing all about it from the news, but still enjoying hearing it from his lips rather than printed on paper. 

"We had just finished up another mission, and came here to get Bucky patched up, but I didn't expect to see you." 

I worked diligently on the wound, my attention not straying from it, but I could still respond. 

"Well, with you gone as well New York was pretty lonely, and your compassionate words about wanting to help in anyway you could seemed to of stuck in my mind. So, I let myself be shipped out to assist with things here awhile ago." 

"Which I'm not happy about." I heard Bucky chime in, and I pulled at the thread in my hands, tugging at his sensitive wound, making him grimace. 

"And, I'm not happy that you got hurt." 

Bucky frowned. "You should of told me that you were here on the frontlines so that I could've protected you sooner." 

"You had more important things to do, James. As a Sergeant of the Military it is your main priority to fight, and complete missions for our country." 

"No," He argued, wrapping his hand around my wrist. "As your husband it is my main priority to ensure that you're safe, always." 

"Becky could join the Howling Commandos." Steve piped up. 

"What, and subjugate her to that much more danger?" 

"No," Steve retaliated. "So she could be by your side, Bucky, and you could protect her. She'd be useful. I've watched her beat up many of my bullies over the years, and I can accurately say that she is strong enough. Plus, we could use a nurse at hand." 

"Sounds fun." I said, finishing up the last stitch, and cutting the remaining piece of thread with a pair of scissors. 

"Really, doll?" 

"Yes, really. I don't want to face the rest of the war alone. I want to be by you, James." 

"I love you." He said, and I smiled. 

"I love you too." 

Steve coughed, interrupting the moment. 

"You're kind of making me feel like a third wheel here." 

"You are." Bucky rebutted, leaning in to kiss me once more.