˚ ༘ 𝕿𝐖𝐎 𝕲𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒 彡
꒰‧⁺ ⇢ ❝ 𝒞𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝒮𝙸𝚇 ¡! ❞ ˊˎ
- ̗̀ ๑❪( ◌⁺ ˖˚ ಿ anything for you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

𝕵𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑩𝑼𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑵 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺 DIDN'T KNOW HOW HE HAD LET IT HAPPEN, HIS BEST FRIEND SINCE CHILDHOOD SLIPPING THROUGH HIS FINGERS SO EASILY AFTER HOLDING ON SO TIGHT FOR SO LONG. All the years spent, all the promises made to never be apart or become anything less than what they were, it was gone. All of it . . . gone just like that.

Bucky had battled the hands that yanked and jerked him back into the trench, realising that seeing his friend run to his death had immobilised him so much so that he hardly cared to move for his safety.

Dugan was the most familiar face to pull him back, his voice standing out the most as he and other men heaved him back through the wires until he fumbled weakly back into the trench; where there was insufficient time for peace.

The fires didn't cease, and all hands were on deck as Bucky's hands clamped over his ears; hands slapping the hard helmet he donned on his head.

"Come on, man." Gabe aided him into a guarding position, his hands remaining around him in a brief moment of consolation. "Don't give up now."

"Once this storm blows over, you can cry all you want." Dum Dum's voice was stern yet moderately fatherly to Barnes as shots rang out from both behind and in front of them. "Right now, I need you to grab a gun and start hitting these bastards."

The sergeant nodded, as shaky as it was, and plucked up his gun. There was distinct animosity in the way he held and directed it. James Barnes firmly couldn't tell you how many bullets he fired. All he knew was that he didn't stop until his ammo was nonexistent.

Bucky's brain was all fogged up when hands went under his arms swiftly, pulling him back with such a force that the young soldier would've otherwise complained about how his blue eyes were no longer trained on the field.

His best friend was out there. Somewhere, amongst the piles of fallen men who still had a full life to live, a family to hold, or even a pet to clap as they greet you; Raymond was out there . . . but where? The Barnes knew there was a high chance he would never know.

"You good, man?" His surroundings changed, and suddenly Gabe and Dum Dum stood across from him; sad looks plastered on their faces. He didn't look, staring at the ground instead.

"Why on earth did he run back?" Bucky whispered hoarsely in a tone that was broken, his eyes homing the burn of slick tears already in effect as he bit his lip sparingly in a concealed anger.

"War either turns the insane sane or the sane insane." Dugan sighs, probably being a man who has seen his words first-hand in real effect as he clutches his helmet.

"Well, Raymond is far from insane," Gabe replies, rolling his eyes. "Stupid, yes, but not insane."

"The bloke knows what would become of him if he turned back." Lieutenant Morris happened to be passing as the three conversed underground amongst the tired, injured men; sending them a cold look as he scanned them over. "I'm just surprised he got as far as he did."

"Seems like a lot of things Raymond does surprises you," Bucky grumbled before he could process the thought and stop himself from speaking so out of line against a lieutenant.

"What was that, Sergeant?" Morris had heard him correctly the first time. His ask was more a challenge than a legitimate question.

In return, Bucky says nothing; knowing silence was the best option - for both of them.

Morris strode forwards with a face that held just as much emotion as a rock would. "Listen, I am well aware of how buddy-buddy you two were, but he made his choice. I can't allow a good soldier to be dragged down by an impulsive one." The lieutenant whisked himself away after that, most likely needing to collect his bearings after attempting such a languished attack.

As soon as he was out of sight, The Barnes boy heaved a heavy sigh as he shoved his head into his hands; his muddied fingers tangling up in his knotted hair.

At that moment, he couldn't even think about what he was going to tell the people waiting for them back in Brooklyn: Nancy, Dennis, Steve and even his own family who had grown up fondly with the Fossum boy. None of their reactions to the devastating news even entered his mind for a moment because in all honesty . . . all Bucky Barnes could think about was what he himself was going to do.

How was he supposed to return home and live a semi-normal life after all this? How was he supposed to wander around the streets of Brooklyn and not take notice to the extra pair of feet that were absent next to him? How was he supposed to enjoy a place like Coney Island with Steve if the third musketeer was missing?

The poor young man was so lost in the sea of his thoughts, drowning in its sorrows as he slumped further in posture. What am I going to do? It was a cursed mantra running miles around his head, repeating over and over and over again. What am I going to -

"Did he have any remaining family back at home?"

Bucky's head rose at Dugan's delicate question, him and Gabe still staring down at him sympathetically as soldiers wallowed in their troubles with fellow pals.

Barnes nodded faintly, his words as weak as their pity. "Yeah. His mother and younger brother, Nancy and Dennis. He had me and Steve's families as well." The eyes felt the sour sting of his emotional waters as he recalled every face of those who had come to care for the Fossum boy dearly, he included.

"He didn't have a girl?" Gabe frowned out of curiosity, leaning absentmindedly against a post as he crosses his arms over his mucky chest.

"Ray was never the dating type. I would try to set him up with girls, but nothing ever became of it." Bucky shrugged, a breath of humour flowing past his lips as he wiped at his weeping nose with his sleeve. "I think he only agreed to try it for my sake so I wasn't flying solo."

"He must've really liked you, Bucky," Gabe said through a throaty chuckle, gaining his interest as Bucky's eyes snapped up to meet his. "None of my mates would've held out for so long if they weren't feeling it with a doll."

"He was one of a kind, I guess," Bucky mumbles with a shrug, his dog tags clinking faintly on his flopped chest as he stared at them with delicate eyes.

Dum Dum Dugan had a sad smile, his moustache almost mimicking the action with how it curled with his lips. "You know, that boy would've done anything for you, Bucky. I could see it." He said softly through an exhaled breath, Gabe nodding in agreement beside him.

"We all could." The dark-skinned man followed up with, further proving his point of the young Fossum's care towards the older Barnes boy.

Bucky's sniffled suddenly evolved into a choked sob, his hand going to his mouth the way it would when you're about to throw up. "He was my best friend." He croaked, the whites of his eyes reddening from the crying.

". . . I think you were more than that to him, Bucky." Dugan's reply crept upon him like a quiet mouse that would scuttle its way through the trench, undetected until it pounced on you or something.

That's what James Barnes felt, pounce on his heart - like a tug - from the corporal's words. His head snapped up, curious yet suspicious of the way Gabe and Dum Dum were now eyeing each other. "W - What?" He confusedly turned to Gabe in the quest for answers.

The man let a sigh pour from his lips, licking his lips in a rather anxious manner before he spoke. "I mean - we may be completely off here, but with the way Raymond would've done anything for you . . . that goes way beyond friendship in our eyes, man."

It is often we find that physical suffering often mirrors emotional suffering. Bucky Barnes could feel it. Right now, his sufferings were one. It was a tormenting flare shooting through his body - and not in a pleasant way. He cringed. His body suddenly felt ten pounds heavier as his head slouched down until it found a resting place on his hands.

It was like needles that had been soaked in rum had been jammed through his stomach, an electric wire shooting straight up his chest.

His mouth was drowned in a tide of his saliva, Adam's apple conspicuously bobbing up and down through his nervous gulp. "So - So what are you saying? That he liked guys? Liked me?" Bucky breathes out lightly, his eyes swiping between the two men; who stayed silent. This caused him to shake his head in denial. "No. No, he - he would've told me. We told each other everything."

"Maybe not everything." Bucky thought this entire conversation was a dream as he watched Gabe nervously dig his combat boots in the sand with a hesitant to look him in the eyes. "Look, I didn't know Raymond as long as you had, but - from my perspective - I think he would've rather continued to be your friend than continue as a stranger."

"I wouldn't dump him for something like that." The mere thought of not having Raymond Fossum in his life was something Bucky Barnes never liked to dwell on, a reason why his answer came so quickly. "I care about him!"

"In a way a friend does?" Dugan inquired, raising an unkept brow in interest. "Or," he trailed off, his words not needing to be spoken to be filled.

"Why are you two saying this all to me now?" A sudden rush of anger coursed through Bucky like a storm as he stood up, the action making both soldiers raise their eyebrows in surprise. "He's dead! My best friend is dead!"

"Bucky, we -"

"No! You two didn't know him as well as I did, so stop trying to act like you do!" The sergeant cried out with his eyes steaming with salty tears, pointing an accusing finger at the two men.

Dugan merely sighed at his outrage. It reminded Bucky of a parent, and he despised it. ". . . Then you would know we're telling the truth." The young man could no longer even look them in the eyes. "James,"

Upon hearing his real name, The Barnes promptly strode away from them. He found himself in the same place where he and Raymond had napped last night, with each other's jackets over them to gather warmth. The heat he felt bloomed fresh in his mind, recalling how good his sleep was. His mind listed all the things that he felt thankful to have that night: shelter, warmth, coverage, and his best friend safely beside him

Sighing, Bucky plumped himself down in the same spot from last night, the familiarity of the walls causing a deep ache in his chest.

There was a clink of metal against his chest, the soldier grasping his dog tags in one hand tightly; remembering him and Ray's conversation about their tags.

When you lose someone, guilt always seems to be the second step after the initial denial. And, although Bucky still felt a residing denial in the loss, his guilt came early.

He wished he had more time; that they had more time. To be sincere, if granted that sacred time, Bucky didn't know what he would say because words wouldn't be enough - they hardly ever were nowadays in times like this.

There was so much he wanted to tell Raymond, and still did. He was sure there were years-worth of moments to come where he would always have a word to say to the Fossum boy; because he couldn't imagine his life without him standing right beside him.

The fact that this was the brutal, harsh truth terrified Bucky, but not in such a way that he wished to never accept it at all. It terrified him because he knew that, no matter how much he tried to believe otherwise, he didn't have that with anyone else - not in the same way, at least.

With Raymond, everything was different for the Barnes boy. It was like there was this whole side of Bucky that was reserved only for him and no one else. Bucky knew the same thing applied for Raymond. He knew that the boy cared for him, and he cared for him too in what he always thought was the same, mutual, best friend way - which is why Jones and Dugan's words had gripped him so tight.

Barnes was aware Fossum would go to far lengths for his sake, but do anything for him as Dum Dum had said? Surely not. You'd have to be utterly stupid to do so much for a person. Heck, Bucky wasn't even sure he'd go that far for the finest doll in all of Brooklyn.

But would you for Raymond? His brain asked him openly, turning his body cold.

The question was within its reasons to be asked, to be speculated, but the words coming from Bucky himself was like he was abruptly forced into a corner. Would he? Yes was his immediate answer, he'd do it for anyone he cared about; he'd do it for Steve, his mum, and even his annoying little sisters.

However, deep down, Bucky knew all stood on different grounds. He would do anything for his mother in the way a son would, he would do anything for his sisters in the way an older brother would, and he would do anything for Steve in the way a good friend would . . . and Raymond -

It confused Bucky as to why his mind could never place his two best friends in the same 'anything' category. He felt and cared for both of them, so why did it somehow feel - in the oddest of ways - different from one another so recently?

Part of it had always been there, I guess. It doesn't just turn up out of the blue, it needs to be planted and grown naturally - so why had the Barnes boy not noticed it gradually? Why now? When the question arguably didn't matter anymore.

Because you're finally forced to accept the answer. Was the explanation Bucky's own mind gave him as his head rose from the depths of his muddied, sweaty palms; blue eyes wide as his pink lips parted.

He had reached a dead end when losing Raymond, reaching the veracity of this story and long-lasted friendship.

Raymond Fossum was more than just a friend to Bucky Barnes now. Growing up, he had cherished the boy's personality like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas: full of fondness and joyfulness. He had aged with all the moments and memories: big and small, sad or happy. All of which gave him a euphoric rush even when he couldn't express it.

If his life was a book, Raymond would be in every story; every sequel, every page, every sentence, and every end. At least, it would if Bucky was the one writing the story . . . yet he wasn't.

Life had begun writing his story, Society wrote its climax with an afterword from Normalities and Stereotypes, War wrote his downfall . . . and Death was in the process of the ending.

Was that a happy ending? Not if Raymond wasn't written on the same page. Bucky answered his thoughts grievously, feeling angered by how all this came now - when it was too late for a re-write.

Bucky didn't realise he was crying until he felt a coolness on his cheek, the clear tear turning dark with the mud from his face as they kept falling; his lips singing sobs with them.

"Sergeant Barnes," a voice, probably spoken by a boy younger than him, called his attention as he looked up; meeting eyes with a rather anxious-looking private - who kept shuffling his weight from one foot to another.

Normally, Bucky would've ordered his emotions to switch off immediately. This time, he let them stay, knowing asking them to leave was like asking light to come late at night: impossible. ". . . What?" He croaked aimlessly, his tongue hitting the top of his mouth softly at the 't's as it created a weak sound - which was the loudest word he had spoken since walking away from Dugan and Jones.

The private swallowed thickly, his throat resembling that of a frog's as his mouth parted to speak; the words swimming out after an initial pause. "Your presence is needed at the medical side of the trench, sir."

Bucky's face went as pale as a sheet at an unhealthy timing. He felt like he was going to be sick - genuinely! The world started to spin, the young man tasked with collecting him eyeing him worriedly when he clutched onto the crate near him for support. His legs felt weak, like jelly; wobbly and slippery.

"W - Why?"

"Don't know. Someone just ordered me to come and collect you, and - and he seemed pretty serious." The young man held his head high, though his chin gave him away as it wobbled - which didn't help the already sickening air coating them thickly.

It took everything Bucky Barnes had to choke out his next three words. ". . . Lead the way."

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Raymond was tired. So, so unbelievably tired. His legs were weak, an occasional fuzzy feeling hitting them as he sat on a cot; ignoring the noises around him.

He didn't know how long had passed since his return, or how long it had been since he had ordered that young and anxious private to go find Sergeant Barnes for him . . . but every second felt like a ticking hour.

His eyes met Richard's tear-filled ones, as he was bombarded by those who knew enough to give him some form of medical attention. Medical personnel bandaged the soldier as fast they could as soon as they came into their care. They gave him whiskey (to ease the shock) and some morphine for the growing pain. His wounds were quick to be demanded more attention, meaning the nearest field hospital was where he was to be taken as soon as possible.

Raymond wordlessly sat up and limped his way over to the forming crowd, helping the men position a stretcher so they could shift him onto it as soon as the journey was to be made. Once done helping, Richard immediately met his eyes. "Raymond -"

"Don't waste your energy." Raymond shook his head, his eyes scanning the trench for anything that could ease the injured soldier's pain or discomfort in even the smallest way. When nothing came into sight, he looked back down. "You're going to be okay, alright? Someone'll get you to the nearest hospital, and if they don't hurry up - I'll do it myself." He offered a small smile to the weak man, who returned it with a breath-like chuckle as his eyelids wavered.

Raymond was just about to tell him to make sure they stay open before a gruff voice spoke behind him. "That won't be necessary."

Caught like a deer in headlights, Raymond swivelled on his feet to face Lieutenant Morris' sharp gaze as his tongue saturated his crackly lips apprehensively. "Lieutenant, I -"

"Do you regret your decision?"

Raymond blinked. "I - uh, what? Sorry."

Lieutenant Morris' gaze only seemed to strengthen. "What you pulled back there was unthinkable, outrageous, foolish, incompetent, and I hold no hesitation when I say that I have never been more horrified by the actions of a man." He listed, arms clasped behind his back as he raised his stubbled chin at the young man. "So, I ask you again, do you regret your decision, Fossum?"

". . . No," Raymond answered after a beat of silence that was filled by the sounds of men rustling around them. Both his and Morris' faces remained stoic as he confined, sparing a glance at poor Richard as he did so. "I don't regret my decision, sir."

"I knew you wouldn't." Morris showed his first emotion of the day through a sigh, his head dropping. Raymond waited for his words to come with as much force as a bomb, awaiting its impact just as the older man rose his head again; this time, a different expression being worn on his face. It was a small smile. A genuine, real small smile. "Your dad was the same way."

Raymond's chest became disburdened by the weight he felt compressing his chest as his shoulders slagged, his blue eyes flowing with relief as his lips twisted in a comforting expression.

"I still mean what I said earlier. I have and most likely never will see anything more shocking and horrifying than when you disobeyed my direct orders and turned back." The Fossum looked down guiltily through Morris' followed words, pursing his lips as he endured them; knowing it was rightfully due since his inconceivable return. "But, I'd be lying if I said your ability to - despite all odds - return alive and standing with an injured yet breathing soldier, wasn't commendable. You did good, Fossum."

Raymond smiled and gave a curt bow of the head. "Thank you, sir."

"You deserve that last name, and I'm sure Larry would be very proud of you today." Morris naturally nodded back, his tone less stern and more earnest. "Very proud indeed."

Raymond Fossum couldn't contain the shyness that dropped into his smile as he nodded in a silent sign of thanks, gratitude shining in every corner of his blue eyes. A low groan was then heard behind them, gaining both men's attention as they spun around to face a heavy-breathing Richard. Raymond's smile was immediately gone. "We need to get him to a hospital soon, sir."

Lieutenant Morris sighed, arms folded across his chest. "I know. I'm taking him as far as I can until people can get him to a recovery hospital."

The Fossum's head immediately whipped back to the lieutenant, shock written in every inch of skin. "But, sir, that requires you to leave your post. Surely you're not -"

Morris held a firm hand up, silencing him. "I am. There are other commanders here for you men to take orders from. I have too many men in need of care to just leave them here to waste, not when I know something can be done." He held gazes with Raymond, a hand going to his hip as he smiles slightly. "A brave soldier recently taught me that."

Raymond Fossum knew there was a high chance he'd get slapped for it but, regardless, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the older lieutenant; patting his back. "Thank you, sir. Be careful out there."

Lieutenant Morris froze for a long moment - so long that Raymond genuinely considered for a split second that he was retrieving his gun to shoot at him - when suddenly he wrapped his strong arms around him. He repeated the same pat on the back; his a bit stronger. "You too, Raymond. You too."

They broke away, Morris only having to send a look to one of the soldiers before they were hurrying to assist him in loading Richard onto his stretcher. Raymond helped, him and the lieutenant by his side as they hoisted him up by the arms; coaxing him through the burning pain.

Richard released a sigh of relief once in the stretcher and all hands were off his wounds, tiredly turning his head when he felt one remaining pressure on his shoulder. Raymond Fossum, a boy who he had mocked, fought, and ridiculed every chance he got, gave him a warm, genuine smile. "Not too bad for a Fossum, eh?"

Richard found it in himself to croak a laugh, not even regretting the action when he felt an ache in his dehydrated throat. He weakly nodded, eyelids heavy. "Yeah . . . I guess not, Fossum."

When hearing his real last name fall from the man's lips, Raymond's gaze softened. "Tell your uncle I said hi."

Richard grinned tiredly. "Will do."

It was time for him to leave soon after that. The process was gradual, and Raymond tried to help but was stopped by Morris steadying a hand on his chest; shaking his head. "We'll take it from here. Right now, you go get yourself seen to."

"Sir -"

"That's an order." Unlike every other time, Morris' tone was still tough yet it held certain sincere care this time. His gaze told Raymond arguing was not an option so, with a final nod exchanging all the words that needed to be said, the young soldier stepped back and let the lieutenant gather a group of men to carry Richard to health.

He was standing for just a few moments before a hand clasped around his forearm, an older-looking man sitting him back down on the same cot he had been placed in before standing up as he checked him over. "Feel any pain anywhere, son?"

"Surprisingly, no." Raymond lightly chuckled, looking down at his body. Other than his aching limbs from carrying a very weak and bulked-up Richard, he had sustained no severe injuries that would make his life as a soldier any more difficult. "Just a little tired and weak, I guess."

"I can see that." The man laughed, noticing the bags under the young man's eyes and the way he carried himself with such exhaustion that his condition was probably overestimated in harm. "Well then, you can rest here tonight. Tomorrow, we'll need you back in tip-top shape."

"You got it." Raymond nodded, watching the man walk away and get lost in the sea of soldiers once more. He sighed, ruffling his hair and recoiling at its filth.

It was then Bucky Barnes came into sight, his presence angelic in the aspect of making Raymond feel a rush of contentment in this disturbing place as he straightened up. He wasted no time rushing over to the boy, his face breaking out into a large smile as he said in absolute happiness. "Bucky!"

The Sergeant trembles at the words, his head whipping in the direction of the voice. His face was washed of colour when he met the eyes of Raymond, who was already making his way towards him. His stance became unfrozen when he saw his friend opening his mouth to continue speaking, causing him to act.

Bucky Barnes' blue eyes hardened as he backed away from Raymond's awaiting hold, shaking his head slightly. His best friend's whole face look like it had just been smashed to a million pieces, the smile completely erased from the look he was being given. "What were you thinking? You said you were right behind me!"

"I was! Richard was injured. It was a lethal shot, Bucky. He could've died." The young man defended, feeling small in comparison to his friend's height. There wasn't that much of a height difference between the two men, it's just the way that the Barnes boy's anger puffed out in his chest that made him that much taller.

"You could've died, Raymond!" Bucky paused after accidentally raising his voice, he grabbed his friend by the forearm and steered them in a more secluded area. Once that was done, he lowered his voice through a sigh. "I - I thought you were."

"Well, why come here?"

Bucky gulped. ". . . because I was asked to. I thought the men that went out found a body, Raymond; your body."

"Bucky," Raymond frowns, lost on where to start. Where does one start? How does one start? "I'm right here."

"You weren't yesterday when I turned back." Bucky sniffled, wiping his tears with his sleeve. His nose reddened at its tip, his eyes matching their colour as his breaths shook. "We - We had a plan."

"To get back to Brooklyn. I know." Raymond nodded sincerely, his palms beginning to sweat. All he wanted was to hug him. "And I didn't break that promise. I came back."

"Yeah, by sheer luck, Raymond." Bucky sternly told him, holding him in his tristful gaze.

"I'm sorry." Was all Raymond could convey. He didn't know what to say, for he was sure no words would mend his damage. Bucky's hostility was within reason, and Raymond knew he would be just as furious if the roles were reversed. Right now, Raymond just wanted to see a familiar face; a friendly familiar face.

Noticing his facial expressions, Bucky softly sighed. "Come here." He muttered before his arms pulled the Fossum man into an embrace, a relieved breath leaving his lips as his body became less tense. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Me too." Raymond chuckled hoarsely, smiling when he heard their metal dog tags clinking together.

The sound caused Bucky to pull back from the hug ever so slightly, grinning at the metal hung around his friend's neck and tucked out of his shirt. "I see you took my advice."

Raymond shrugged. "Meh, had to have something to entertain me. Besides . . . it kinda felt like I had a piece of you guys with me; cheering me on." He ended, fingers tracing over the engraved letters and numbers.

Bucky Barnes then surged forward, his hand steadying on the nape of Raymond's neck. Their faces were inches away from one another, Bucky making sure their foreheads purposely touched/skimmed as their widely blue eyes stared at each other. "You'll always have me, Ray. Always."

Raymond Fossum smiled softly. "I know, and you've got me too. I - I'd do anything for you, Bucky."

In return, the Barnes man kept his smile. He said nothing else, bringing him into a tight hug. When his best friend could no longer see his face, Bucky frowned; deep in thought.

What did 'anything' mean?

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The October night air was cold as Raymond, Bucky and Gabe lounged around the trench; their helmets covering most of their faces as they laid against the wall. After Lieutenant Morris had left with a small group to get Richard medical care, no one knew of their next orders. Dugan was currently off elsewhere, most likely chatting to the man currently in charge; who Raymond didn't care enough to put a name to. All he knew was that he was tall, and had a hunger for battle.

"He's going to send us out." Raymond was first to speak after a while, gaining the two men's attention as his hands supported the back of his head. "That last raid was just the beginning. They're stronger. He needs more people to be sent out."

"Surely not after the night you just had, Raymond." Gabe reasoned, shuffling up against the wall as a worried look crossed his face. It was no secret how advanced in technology HYDRA had recently gotten, their statistics of prisoners and deaths over the roof.

"That no longer matters right now, Gabe." Raymond sighed, running a tired hand over his face. Oh, what he would give to be back home in his bed right now. "Only this moment matters."

"Surely he wouldn't send us in blind. We barely know anything about what we're up against." Gabe said with a frown, his dark eyes jumping between the two soldiers.

"That's probably the plan. No men would go if they knew, most likely." Raymond gave the man a tragic smile, his eyes displaying their fear.

"Wehrmacht soldiers were the worst in the area last time I checked," Bucky stated, his eyes firmly planted on their surroundings as his arms stayed crossed over his chest. Ever since his best friend's unlikely return, the young sergeant had been on a higher lookout for potential threats.

This caused Bucky to notice Dum Dum approaching them at a fast pace first, gently nudging Raymond and patting Gabe for their attention to be drawn to the moustached man. All three of them were up on their feet, hearts sinking in their chests when they saw the man's eyes. It was a mixture of unhappiness and despair.

No one even got a word out before Dugan was giving them their orders. "Get prepped. We're moving out."

"Wha - how many of us?" Gabe stumbled, tripping over his own two feet as the three of them wordlessly followed after the man; confusion written on every face.

"All of us."

"That's nearly two hundred men, Dugan," Bucky stated, clearly unamused by the numbers. It was a sign things were taking a turn for the worst.

"I know." The man grumbled, looking displeased at the arrangements just as much as them. "But it's not my choice."

"Lieutenant Morris would've kept some of us back," Raymond told him, not expecting Dugan to turn around and speak to him in a tone astoundingly harsh.

"Well, Lieutenant Morris isn't here right now, so this is what we're to do!" He barked in Raymond's face, causing the young soldier to double back in shock.

"Easy, Dugan," Bucky said in a low voice, probably trying to calm the corporal down as he rose a brow in warning. "Now is not the time to argue."

There was a tense, hefty silence; all four men waiting for someone to speak. Dugan was first to do so, swallowing thickly as he sent a short apologetic glance their way. "I'm sorry, but I'm just following orders. It's where we've been assigned to."

Raymond Fossum could only sigh in response. He had just survived a shootout by the skin of his teeth, and now - barely half a day back - he was heading into another one, where his chances of survival were even slimmer.

He felt a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder; Bucky sending a warm smile his way before he looked to Dugan, his look hardening. "When do we leave?"

Dugan was never more hesitant to respond. "As soon as possible." He sighed, his broad shoulders slumping from the action. "The battle; it's happening now. They need us now."

: : ❛ 𝓐𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍 𝓝𝙊𝙏𝙀 ❜ : :
╰───╮; sorry this chapter is shorter compared to my previous ones. it was quite hard to write this one, as i got stuck on a lot of segments. but we have the battle of azzano happening in the next chapter, folks! how we feeling? i sure as hell know i'm not ready.

hope you're all enjoying this fic! i'm definitely having a lot of fun writing it -- which is probably a good guess as to why i actually update and work on this thing compared to my other works lol.

thanks for reading!
love you all!

∴ ✪ ❱ · TRGDYCOILS !! ━━━━
( 5.8k words )