Chapter Text
He thought he knew the worst of the worst. Thought he knew stupidly what the worst part of this camp was about, thought it was the tedium, the knowledge of having nothing to do but be alone with your own thoughts or worse with your own dreams which in Gale Cleven’s case always seems to involve John Egan dying in front of him eyes wide and panicked before glazing over even as Buck begs him to stay alive fighting through invisible forces to get to him to no avail until he wakes up with a scream face wet with cold sweat, Bucky’s name on his lips and more often than not Crank staring at him as he shakes him awake.
It goes on like this for weeks. Weeks of the same thing and Buck had thought like an idiot that this was hell. Marge upon his last letter had told him that she’d not heard anything about Bucky, he was on no casualty list, no list of the names of KIA or worse MIA and underneath that she had written in her curvy writing that a lot of men and woman back home were taking the view of no news is good news when it came to their loved ones. Buck had clenched his letter between his fists and tried not to see Bucky choking up blood or his burnt body as it was dragged out of a crashed fort.
And then he had seen him.
At first Buck was convinced he was having a hallucination. Food was scare here and it was not totally out of the realms of possibility but Crank and Murphy had been shouting and he had followed the sounds of the chant and he had seen him.
Bucky.
John.
Alive. Healthy. Whole.
Well…maybe not totally the last two but close enough. Bucky had been beaten half to hell and back, blood dried and crusted on his face and there was a way that he had walked that had made him think he had gone down on his leg. But he was here and he was alive and he was smiling at Buck like Buck was the best thing that he had seen all day.
Buck on the other hand had love hearts around his eyes—as said to Crank by Murphy who nodded and rolled his eyes before they slouched off to see who else had arrived.
He was sure.
Bucky had been processed with everyone else and then had come to their bunks limp more pronounced and then had fallen into Buck’s arms as if Buck had been the one thing that had kept him going. And Buck for all his talk that he was unflappable in such conditions gripped his friend so tight he was sure his back popped and burrowed his face in his neck breathing in the man he loved like he was going to be taken away from him.
That had been the end of the good news however.
Because as it turned out he really was keeping Bucky standing no matter what. Because at that point Bucky’s eyes had rolled back in his head and he had fainted leaving Buck keeping him upright and screaming for Murphy or Crank to get a doctor, or just…someone…anyone who might be able to help him.
That had been four days ago.
Maybe it had been four days ago. Buck wasn’t sure if he was being honest. He was quite sure however that he was losing his mind.
It was a fever he was told. They didn’t have much of a Doctor in the camp, they had one solider who had been a Doctor in a previous life and somehow had become a fighter pilot which had baffled everyone’s mind and they had the Major who had stopped in to rest a heavy hand on Buck’s shoulder for a minute and told him he would do all he could.
Problem was they were out of options. Asking for medical supplies was like asking for freedom. Anything that arrived went to the German officers and Red Cross parcels were not going to suddenly contain a handbook on how to keep your secret love alive.
The Doc had taken a look at Bucky and then had pursed his lips in a way that had not given Buck any kind of hope. He had gently asked for help to get Bucky out of his clothes though there was nothing clean to put him in and Buck had nearly howled at the mess that was Bucky’s body underneath it. Bruises, black, blue, purple, ugly things that mottled perfect skin. Cuts to his perfect face, eye swollen shut. The Doctor had said that he had a cut to his head and a lump and so many open wounds that it was almost impossible to tell which ones had been infected and which ones not.
“Someone’s beaten this boy to the very gates of hell and back.” He’d said grimly.
“What does that mean?”
“Means he should be dead”
There’s a pause as Buck takes that in and he swallows. Murphy and Crank and the other boys are silent too and perhaps realising the depths of his words the Doc smiled even though it didn’t meet his eyes.
“Look” he said taking of his hat and running a hand through hair that was so black dirt didn’t seem to show. “I don’t know Egan—”
“Bucky”
“Okay…Bucky…but I know what I am seeing. Man gone through all that should be dead. And he’s not, for some reason he’s not dead so maybe there’s a chance. If he’s made it this far, but he’s gonna get worse before he gets better, raging fever no doubt. Hopefully the Krauts don’t make us march or do an impromptu search because I don’t think he’s gonna stand up. But…but maybe he has a chance. I don’t know—”
“What can we do?”
He’d do anything Buck thinks desperately. Anything to keep Bucky with him, anchor him here to the ground, go and fight God tooth and nail to keep Bucky with him, tell him at the pearly gates or whatever existed beyond the hell that had to be Stalag III, that John Clarence Egan belonged with Gale Cleven come hell or high water. He’d beg, he’d plead, he’d fight. He’d do anything, anything.
He doesn’t realise that the Doc has spoken locked down in his own mortal, internal hell.
“Keep him hydrated, clean the wounds as best you can. Boil any water before you touch him with it make sure that it’s clean. Dirty water right now will finish him off. Try and keep him going during the fever and pray it breaks…and whatever happens…don’t leave him alone.”
It was unspoken the Doc’s believe that too many men had died in this war alone and that Bucky should have someone there at the inevitable end. Looking back Buck knew it was a good thing that he didn’t voice that opinion. Even he knew that punching the only medic in the camp’s lights out was a bad idea.
And so it began.
The wait.
It was night time when Buck’s fever reached a crescendo. Gale had taken to kneeling on the floor next to the bottom bunk a small bowl with whatever water Murph and Crank could find at his feet. Even now they were out breaking curfew at risk of all sorts to try and find firewood so that they could keep this little ramshackle hut warm. Buck wasn’t sure what good that would do…Bucky was already so hot.
Gently he took the cleanest cloth that they could find dipped in the cool water and went back to bathing his brow. He’d cleaned away the blood as best he could but underneath it Bucky’s face had been beaten in.
Buck thought it funny however that even though his face had been half bashed in with whatever cruel tool the Germans had used it had done nothing to detract from how stunning the other man was.
He had to see the light side in this Bucky would say, otherwise the darkness would kill him.
Bucky whimpered and Buck dragged a hand down his face forcing himself to stay awake. Murph had all but threatened to drag him to the bunk last night and Brady had been much the same insisting that he would be the one that would sit with Bucky but Buck had only gotten about three hours sleep before he’d woken up silent scream lodged in his throat choking down the fear that he had missed something.
“Bucky?” he said gently moving his hand away from Bucky’s forehead to tangle in his hair. “Johnny…do you hear me? You gotta keep fighting for me, you gotta stay here with me Johnny you get that?”
There’s no response other than an eyelid flutter. Gale groans dropping his forehead down to Bucky’s hand and then throwing caution to the wind in the empty bunk he raises the hand and pressing it to his lips he presses open mouthed kisses on each finger and then in the palm curling over fingers to trap his kiss inside even as he moves to stroke back the matted mess that is Bucky’s hair.
“You gotta keep going for me darlin” he mutters gently. “Don’t go into the light or whatever bullshit the Doc says, you gotta…you gotta stay here with me Bucky cause I can’t fucking do this without you. These past few weeks have nearly wrecked me…a lifetime is gonna fucking kill me. I need you. I need…I need to be selfish here” he wipes his eyes on the back of his hand unable to stop. It’s like once he’s started talking he can’t stop even though the man on the bed has no way of hearing him. One thing he has learnt the hard way through this war is that you don’t get second chances to say the things you mean.
Besides…Bucky can’t hear him. Even if Gale needs to say it. There’s no way that Bucky can hear him.
“I love you” he says into the dark bunk. “I love you John Egan, I love you heart and soul. Heck Bucky I think…no I know that I am gonna love you for the rest of my life, cause your it for me. Told Marge as much…turns out she has the same arrangement with a friend back home so that’s that but…but I love you, I love you so much that…that the thought of going about life without you is too much for me to bear. I love you and so I gotta be selfish here cause even though I know you don’t love me I need you to stay alive. I need you to stay alive for me”
He presses another kiss to the palm of the hand and then drops his head and not for the first time since he arrived here he finds that he is praying.
“Lord keep him alive” he says into the empty bunk. “Lord I…I need him, don’t take him from me, keep him alive. God I love him so much…I…I can live with him being happy with someone else, I can sit and watch him build a family with some perfect woman if I have to, hell I can be his best man, I can be on the outside looking in if that is Your will but please keep him alive. Lord protect and guard the men that fly…”
He carries on that for some time alternating between praying for a miracle he doesn’t know if he believes in and stroking Buck’s forehead with a rapidly warm cloth wondering how on Earth they are going to be able to change the bandages before more infection spreads in.
Eventually his boys come back and it gives him time to change his speech. His thoughts never change, his lips move constantly in prayer the ones that the men can hear and the words that he will never be able to say to Bucky.
Doesn’t matter, Buck thinks looking down at the body of the man he loves heart and soul as he fights to stay with them, it’s not going to change anything. It’s the rhythm of his life.
Buck loves Bucky.
Bucky does not love Buck.
And besides…Bucky is never going to hear his confession, so what does it matter?
So what does it matter?