neither should these men, with their funny accents and strange organization. they are all anomalies, just like himself. it’s fine. it’s none of his business. the word from the top was to go to travel with them, that jack will catch up, that it’s fine. it’s none of his concern. he has a job to do, he has his orders. wait for jack, then move out, weather permitting.  hard to predict the weather this far north in november. the tall blonde one, steve, and al are the only ones up for the watch at this time of night. al takes a deep breath in, the chill filling his lungs and burning his throat. he doesn’t mind. 

he doesn’t mind much. 

steve has his orders. he knows something’s off about the man next to him on the watch. the way he watches and smiles, his quiet confidence more than what a young sergeant should possess. and he’s alone. the credentials check out. credentials are easy to fake when you have friends in high places, steve would know. the brass trusts him, and it’ll only be a few days, until the weather turns for the better and they can leave this abandoned village, until pvt. baumgartner comes back.  the silence is tight, despite the pleasant expression on sgt. rojas’ face. were it a normal soldier, steve wouldn’t mind a few days of cover. but something is not right with the man next to him. rojas has secrets of his own. steve doesn’t like not having all the information before him, especially when it comes to orders from the top.  “so,” steve begins, eyes scanning the dark. “how long has jack been gone?” all quiet, even to his enhanced ears. he understands need to know. he lives and breathes need to know. but as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t know all he needs to know. 

“comin’ up on thirty-six hours at 0200.” the man has a warm texas drawl, his quiet voice clear as a bell. sgt. rojas didn’t look to steve, didn’t flinch or shift at all. the two men are statues, their breath pluming in the moonlight.  “that’s a little long.” 

sgt. rojas makes a noncommittal noise in his throat. he’s been gone for longer, in more nerve wracking conditions. that is not need to know. “he’ll be here by 0600.”

“and if he’s not?” 

steve sees the sergeant turn his head to look at him, ever present smile slightly wider than normal, crinkling his eyes. “he will be, sir.” a statement of fact, a touch of humor in his voice, like he couldn’t believe steve was even implying jack wouldn’t be on time, that it was some kind of joke. 

steve draws his brows together, glancing to the man to his right. “if he’s not—” he lets the question hang. a bit of a test- for some reason it feels more natural to speak to sgt. rojas as an equal, not as a subordinate. the bait works, as al lets out a gentle sigh, his smile going back to normal. steve thinks not your typical sergeant as al speaks without prompting.

“y’all should move out, if you think y’can beat the storm that’s about to bear down on us.” the tone of his voice very politely suggests he thinks that’s unlikely. al tilts his head up, the first clouds starting to obscure the full moon. steve follows suit. they could  move out, but it’d ideally be with the human torch to clear their path through the snow. that’d be risky with a too-keen scout such as sgt. rojas nearby. 

steve doesn’t know how the invaders fell into this mess, but the sooner they part, the better. even then, moving out through the snow was more of a risk. we’re on the same side. i’m worrying too much.

“do you know private baumgartner very well?” the man’s faith in just a private was abnormal, especially if they’ve only known each other for a few months. the lesson of pairing up friends or family in the same unit was learned in the last war, when entire towns would lose their young men in one encounter. 

“do you know your men very well?” a fair rebuttal, both men still watching the clouds swallow the moon. where are the rest of your men, rojas. 

“you seem very confident, even though you had to abandon your rv point.” steve turns fully to the man next to him. “anything could have happened. what are your orders if he doesn’t show up? we can help you find him—” 

“anything could have happened.” yes, sir. thank you for reminding me, sir. i’m only just playing over all the ways it could go wrong every time he leaves my sight, sir. “what are you orders if he doesn’t show up?” fucking hunt down every goddamned nazi in a thousand clicks and gut them like fish. bury them alive while their friends watch, all their tongues cut out and fed to stray dogs. burn this entire godforsaken continent to cinders and then burn it again, allies, axis, all of you. “we can help you find him—” 

al shakes his head, finally looking to steve. the smile remains. “jack’ll be fine.” steve doesn’t know if it’s the drawl or if al is slowing his words down because he thinks the other man is dense. at steve’s raised eyebrows, he continues. “he works miracles all the time. five minutes before 0600, he’ll be standin’ right here.”

steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head as he looks back up to the space where the moon used to be. he lets the subject drop. the man is stubborn, on his side, and not letting steve’s realism temper his belief in the private.

three minutes before 0600, howling wind and snow

“you’re late.” al has his arms crossed, looking down his nose to the kid who makes the whole of his command. his smile is gone, the warmth in his voice with it. steve watches, fifteen feet away. 

jack, tiny, red nosed from the cold, and, for his part, looking truly morose at being only three minutes early. “sorry, sarge—” 

“save your sorries.” al approaches the kid and steve tenses at the authority in his step. it felt like impending violence, but it just led to al putting his hands on jack’s shoulders and looking him over. steve catches a very quiet, “estas bien?” and jack’s muttered, “yeah.”