Demilitarization

10. All Manner of Joy, All Manner of Glee, and Our One Heroic Pledge

            Steve did not want to leave Bucky, not now.  It was still a shock to see him again.  It was unpleasant to be reminded what had happened to his friend, to see his metal arm and the blank look in his eyes.  But he was terrified that he might not be there when he got back.  That he might hurt himself or others while he wasn’t there.  He reminded himself that at least some of the Avengers were in the building, and they could certainly defend themselves and anyone else from the broken soldier.

            He drove to the new, secret, headquarters of SHIELD, and thought about Dr. Erskine.  He was a kindly man, and his advice had meant a great deal.  He had reminded Steve that who he already was mattered, and he was just being given the tools to achieve more.  How different it was for Bucky, who had been removed from himself to be a better tool.  Dr. Zola was not gentle or kind, and apparently jealous of his control over Bucky.

            He’d already been made into a super soldier when Bucky was captured.  Was it just dumb luck, or fate, that his best friend had been captured by men who hated him?  Had they chosen Bucky to hurt Steve?  Was all of this really his fault?  He had defeated, though not thwarted, a HYDRA agent as soon as the procedure was completed.  He was in the papers.  When he had rescued Bucky and met the Red Skull, he’d said he enjoyed his films.  They had known him.  Could they have known that Bucky was his friend?  That turning him against Steve would be very effective?  Or was that just a happy accident for HYDRA?

           

            “They look like they’ve been through hell,” he said, hating himself for being here, no different from a chorus girl.

“These men more than most.  Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano.  Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned.  Your audience contained what was left of the 107th,” Peggy told him.  “The rest were killed or captured.”

He looked up at her sharply.  “The 107th?” he demanded.

She frowned.  “What?” she asked, puzzled

He jumped to his feet and ran toward the command tent, Peggy following quickly despite the rain.  “Colonel Phillips,” he said as he went inside.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled man with a plan.  What is your plan today?” he asked mockingly.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” he said, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son,” the Colonel replied, unmoved.

“I just need one name.  Sgt. James Barnes from the 107th,” he pressed.

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” he said to Peggy. 

“Please tell me if he’s alive, sir,” Steve interrupted.  “B-A-R-”

“I can spell,” Phillips replied sharply.  He paused, looking down.  “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count,” he continued, standing, carrying a stack of papers over to a desk.  “But the name does sound familiar.  I’m sorry,” he finished, turning back, seeming almost sympathetic.

Steve looked down, digesting this.  He was here because of Bucky, because they’d decided to go together.  It had taken him a long time, but he was so close.  He had thought that they might meet, over here, when he had flown over so recently.  But not like this.  He couldn’t be dead.  Not yet, not now.  “What about the others?  Are you planning a rescue mission?” he suggested.