[There's a party that night with what the camp can scrape together for a celebration. Once upon a time, Bucky would have been in the thick of it, probably would have asked the entire USO kickline for a dance. Instead, he shows his face long enough for people to remember he was there, then slips out to find a quiet spot and a smoke. The only USO girl he wants to dance with is being showered with attention and all he really wants is a moment to think.
He's been checked out in the medical tent, where they had been surprised at the lack of infection. He doesn't know what to make of how fast his bruises faded and skin knit back together during the long trek back to camp. Zola had given him something for the illness before the torture began, and his memories of everything after that are patchy.
His hands don't shake as he lights up. They haven't since he watched the rat bastard scurry off after Schmitt. The last time they so much as trembled feels like when Stephanie's strange new face appeared through the dark and she dragged him to his feet. He winces at the memory of what he'd done before realizing she was, in fact, very real, and he wasn't dead after all.
Bucky exhales slowly, a thin plume of smoke into the cold night air. Maybe she'll forgive him. They've gotten past worse, sort of.]
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He's been checked out in the medical tent, where they had been surprised at the lack of infection. He doesn't know what to make of how fast his bruises faded and skin knit back together during the long trek back to camp. Zola had given him something for the illness before the torture began, and his memories of everything after that are patchy.
His hands don't shake as he lights up. They haven't since he watched the rat bastard scurry off after Schmitt. The last time they so much as trembled feels like when Stephanie's strange new face appeared through the dark and she dragged him to his feet. He winces at the memory of what he'd done before realizing she was, in fact, very real, and he wasn't dead after all.
Bucky exhales slowly, a thin plume of smoke into the cold night air. Maybe she'll forgive him. They've gotten past worse, sort of.]