They were running, panting, gasping for air as the bullets flew past their heads and blasted through the trunks of old trees only inches away from their faces. She couldn't feel the shrapnel piercing her skin when she sprinted through the war zone, knowing that if she even glanced behind her shoulder, she's end up falling or one of those bullets would finally find a spot in her skull after weeks of fighting. 

Evangeline had been lucky enough throughout the past few months when it came to her own well-being, only taking a few scrapes here and there after each confrontation. And she'd tend to those who hadn't been quite as fortunate, removing shards of metal from legs, arms, backs, and necks, stitching up bullet holes and deep gashes bleeding profusely, holding down men who had no choice but to have a limb amputated and there were no knock-out salts around.

War had been absolute hell.

Her lungs shrieked in pain with each quick inhale she took and her feet felt like lead in her untied boots, but she kept moving. The sounds of her fellow soldiers, men who had grown to be her life-long friends, tripping over landmines, getting shot, shouting in agony as death ripped their souls from their bodies and left behind their mangled remains.

"Angie!"

The sound of her name being called caught her off guard and her boot snagged on a log she'd tried to leap over, but ended up falling face-first into a puddle of blood. Bullets continued to soar through the air at a thousand miles an hour and sent splinters in every direction. Having no other option, Evangeline got to her knees and crawled back over to the log she'd tripped over, then sat with her back against the wood.

"Angie!"

Frantically, she tried to scan the battlefield for the source of the voice, a voice that was too familiar for her liking. Though she tried to remember who exactly was speaking, it was difficult to concentrate when grenades were going off and men were dying all around, collapsing in heaps of blood and broken bones. 

"Angie! Where are you?" The voice screamed.

It was then that everything went completely silent.

Branches crunched and bushes ruffled as a man came thundering through the brush, rifle in hand and a scared look in his eyes. His hair was dark and short, his face covered in grime like the rest of his body, but she could still make out those blue eyes. He wore a necklace of  metal tags around his throat and a mucus-brown helmet over his head, twigs and leaves sticking out from the net that covered the top. 

"Angie!" He screamed again in desperation. "Evangeline!"

What was he doing? Didn't he know he was in the middle of a war zone? What the hell did he think was going on? This wasn't some department store his friend got lost in, this was hell on earth! Where the only way you could possibly survive is by keeping your head down and your mouth shut! He hadn't followed a single one of those rules!

From her spot behind the log, she could see him only a few feet away, his frantic eyes on the verge of tears with each dead body he found and rolled over to check if it was her. For a split second, she saw the glimmer of gold metal around his forth finger on his left hand, but dismissed it as the sun playing tricks on her. 

It was Bucky.

"Evangeline!"

The desperation in his eyes and the pain in his tone stabbed her heart like a bayonet. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run to him and wrap her arms around him, to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that she was still alive and well. She wanted to protect him, knowing that this deathly silence was anything but good new.

But no matter how badly the woman wanted to run to his side, her body wouldn't move. Despite every fiber of her being trying to force her arms to pick herself up off the ground, every ounce of strength urging her feet to sprint towards him and tackle him to the woods floor, all she could do was watch as the sergeant feverishly continued his search for the woman he loved. He ran a stressed hand through his sweaty hair as his head whipped from one direction to the other, his eyes finding mountains of dead men with no way of telling which one the light of his life could be in. With scared tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, he cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice.

"EVANGELINE!"

Then the bullet came and hit him right between the eyes.

**********

Bucky quickly covered Angie's mouth before she could shout in agony. Though he sympathized with her due to the fact that his own nightmares were vicious, he knew that if she accidentally woke up the other guys, they wouldn't be quite as caring. Yes, everyone had horrible dreams they didn't want to talk abut, but they didn't yell nearly as loud as Angie did. Maybe it was because she was a nurse and that she had to see the worst the war had to offer. Regardless, he still wanted to wake her up since he hated seeing her so scared.

When he covered her mouth with his hand, her eyes shot open and she let out a frightened, muffled squeal, but calmed down after noticing that the man keeping her quiet was her best friend.

"Hey," Buck whispered, then removed his hand from her mouth. "Can't sleep?" He already knew the answer to that, but she shook her head anyway and let out a quiet sigh. "Come on, I'm on watch for the next hour." He took her hand and led her out of the canvas tent Angie and himself built for their squad members only hours ago. Usually, they would've built a fire to keep themselves warm, but with the soldiers being so close to enemy territory, they couldn't afford the smoke to give their position away.

So the two grabbed their guns and sat on the ground a few yards away from the tent's entrance. They sat with their backs facing each other, using the other for support, though Bucky was enough of a sweetheart to barely lean on Angie, giving her enough leeway to fall back asleep if she felt like it. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Bucky always asked this question. And he knew the answer to that one before the question left his lips, but liked to ask it nevertheless. He didn't want her to think she had to tell him every gritty detail of the horrors running loose in her mind when the sun went down, but he also didn't want her to think he didn't care anymore. 

"Same one," She crossed her legs and set her weapon in her lap, the barrel facing away from herself and the tent so no one would get hurt in case it went off. "Running through the woods, everyone getting shot down around me." He knew from the tone in her voice that there was something she wasn't telling him, some detail she'd left out on purpose, but he was in no position to pry that can of worms open. "Thanks for waking me up, by the way. Really didn't want to go through the rest of that torture."

"Don't mention it," Bucky's eyes examined the trees around them, searching silently for any signs of danger while continuing his conversation with the woman behind him. "Nightmares suck. Glad I could help."

Subconsciously, he slid his left hand into his pocket where a little copper container sat against his leg, holding two precious items no one knew he had, two precious items he'd kept safely since a week ago after they'd liberated a concentration camp. As the American soldiers freed the Jewish from their jail and started loading people into trucks to be taken to a safer location, an elderly woman caught him glancing across the field of people to where Angie was sitting, tending to children in need of first aid with a beautiful, hopeful smile on her lips. The wrinkled, old woman didn't say anything, just took his hand and pressed two rings into his palm.

He knew it was crazy to even think about proposing to Evangeline when they hadn't been on a single date. But when death knocked on their door every day, when every life-threatening situation brought them closer and closer... Bucky knew she loved him, though she may not have been willing to admit it at the moment, and he knew that he loved her without a single doubt in his heart and mind.

So what was he waiting for?

There was a long moment of silence between the two, minutes upon minutes passing until Angie asked a question she'd been thinking about ever since she left New York.

"Do you think Steve's doing alright?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Bucky took his hand out of his pocket after that, leaving the container behind. That's what he was waiting for. Steve. And the possibility that she could have feelings for the friend they left behind. As much as he wanted to believe Angie would've chosen him over their smaller friend, Evangeline wasn't the kind of person to love someone based on outwardly appearances. Even though Bucky had more meat on him that five Steves combined, Steve was better at showing his emotions, at being supportive and caring when she needed someone to talk to. Bucky was almost on Steve's level there, too, but Evangeline would always run to Rogers before ever turning to him. "He's probably writing to us right now, sitting on our rooftop with your bottle of schnapps."

"Damn him," Angie whispered with a smirk as her eyes found the night sky, littered with stars like snowflakes on a black canvas. "I was saving that for his birthday." 

"We'll just have to get some more when we get home," He felt her shoulders tense up after bringing up the idea of going back to New York. It wasn't hard to guess why the topic made her feel uncomfortable; she didn't want to get her hopes up for something that may not happen. Bucky slid the same muddy, dusty hand that once held the rings across the ground and gently took hers. "When we get home, right?"

"Yeah," she whispered before biting her lower lip and giving his palm a squeeze. "When we get home."

But she knew deep down that when she said good-bye, it was for forever. Even before the end, Evangeline Harris knew in her heart that she'd never see the New York she left behind, she'd never see Steve, she'd never know what he shouted after the boat left the dock.

But at least she had Bucky here.