The Red Soldier: Captain America and the Red Soldier

PROLOGUE

*04/10/1941*

James Barnes dragged his best friend down endless tiled hospital corridors in search of anybody who might have been able to help them. It was fall, and yet the pollen count was high, triggering the asthma attack Steve Rogers was now suffering from. 'Help! Somebody help! My friend – he can't breathe!' Doctors and nurses rushed passed them as Steve rested against a wall, slumping to the floor where he rested his head in his hands, trying his hardest to inhale enough air to sustain him. Nobody seemed to care about the small blonde and his strapping friend enough to help either of them though.

Finally, just as Steve's lips were starting to turn blue and his eyelids began to close, a saviour came in the form of a young gentleman wearing a crisply ironed long white coat, and a stethoscope around his neck. He bent down and helped Steve to his feet, looking up into Bucky's eyes pleadingly. James Barnes found himself almost hypnotised by the unique (E/C) shade of the young man's irises. 'Help is get 'im into a room, will yi!' he barked, trying to hold Steve under the shoulders. Bucky shook himself from his thoughts, taking Steve's full weight in his arms.

The stranger flashed him a grateful look, taking his arm back now and leading the way to the closest bed. Bucky set Steve down, as the young man removed the stethoscope from around his neck and plugged it into his ears. He lifted Steve's shirt up and listened to his chest for a few moments before checking his pulse. 'He's having an asthma attack,' Bucky explained, 'he just needs an inhaler.' The man ignored him, picking up a strange device and securing it around Steve's mouth and nose before flicking a switch. A strange noise rang throughout the small bay as Bucky drew the curtains, his eyes darting between Steve, whose breath had begun to return to him, and the young man who was scribbling on the clipboard hanging at the end of the bed.

James took more notice of him now, his soft (H/C) hair, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he checked Steve Rogers's pulse once more. 'You a doctor or something?' he questioned him.

'Junior Doctor,' the doctor grunted, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck once more and loosening his tie slightly. Bucky took a step back, feeling a little intimidated by the grumpy kid who'd just saved his best friend. There wasn't anything particularly frightening about him, he was only inches taller than Steve, and looked like he could barely hurt a fly, never mind James Buchanan Barnes. 'Sorry,' he apologised, sighing, 'just been ran off me feet since a came in this mornin'.'

'You're not from here, are you?' Bucky said, gesturing to the seat beside Steve's bed, the doctor looked like he needed it more than him.

'Nar, am from Newcastle – North East England,' said the doctor, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it before offering one to Bucky.

James's eyebrows rose in shock. He could never imagine himself moving so far away from Brooklyn. 'That's some distance, Dr...'

'(L/N),' the doctor said, puffing on his cigarette as though it were the only thing keeping him awake, '(Y/N) (L/N).'

'Nice to meet you, Dr (L/N),' said Bucky, sticking his hand out for (Y/N) to shake.

The doctor looked at it unsurely, before eventually taking hold of it and shaking it firmly. 'Just call is (Y/N), still feels weird people calling is Dr (L/N).'

Bucky nodded, just as Steve stuck a hand up, waving tiredly at the both of them. 'Oh, that's Steve,' he said, pointing to his friend who was recovering from an asthma attack.

(Y/N) (L/N) waved back at Steve, 'hi, Steve.' A muffled 'hello' could be heard under the mask. 'And you are?' he now turned to look up at James Barnes.

'Oh, yeah – James Buchanan Barnes,' he smiled, mentally slapping himself for not introducing himself sooner. The doctor he was trying to befriend was sure to think he was a dunce. 'But everyone just calls me Bucky, or Buck. My mother still calls me James though...'