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wexhappyxfew · 8 months ago

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stray bullets

(a/n): it's been a long time coming, but.....i am beyond excited to share this piece. focused on some early days with kennedy x bucky, i wanted to dig into kennedy and her character (and her fun internal monologue) and introduce exactly how she's connected with bucky - because let's be honest, even she doesn't know how it happened. please enjoy!! :D (also...it's a bit of a long one - i was having some fun haha!)

The silence around the interrogation table was enough to mess with any person's head; whether they were the command pilot, like Lieutenant Bradshaw, or a tail gunner, like Marianne Salinger, they all seemed to sit in reserved quietness as they festered in the happenings of just an hour ago.

Sweat trickled down the sides of her face as she leaned against the wooden table, picking at pieces that were peeling up, trying to keep her eyes away from the maps sprawled out, and that big leather-jacket notebook where Bessie kept all her notes, coordinates and documentation for what planes had gone down - when and where. The other tables were much more lively - louder, chatty, a bit of yelling even. The Silver Bullets table was quiet, and they were all sure it had to do with the notable lack of their flight engineer, who was currently at the Med-Bay, bloodied and unconscious.

Margie Harlowe was on all of their minds it seemed.

And the thought of having to recount the events leading up to that point, made Kennedy want to vomit. The hit had come just as they were on the 90 degree turn to get the bombs ready to drop. Achterberg had taken control of the plane, with Bradshaw and Montez working to guide the B-17 swiftly to the side, as the onslaught of flak and bullets sprayed from the German fighters swinging around above them.

Kennedy remembered the yelp and anguished cry of pain that had come from her headset, the blood-curdling scream for help that had Kennedy forgetting about her .50 cal and racing towards where the top turret was. She couldn't get that look on Margie's face out of her mind; sobbing, horrified, the blood covering half her face, Stagliano trying to calm Margie down the best she could, while waving off the sad excuse of help that Kennedy had been. Freezing up like that, what was she thinking?

"Sergeant Farley." Kennedy's head snapped up - she didn't realize she'd blanked out, staring at the dried blood on her hands, shoved up underneath her fingernails, and had her name being called all at once. She met the eyes of the interrogator and swallowed.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said you were there when you got Sergeant Harlowe out of the top turret." the interrogator started, "Can you recount that for me?" Kennedy stared at him, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone at the table and some of the surrounding upper brass, on her.

Colonel Harding had stood in the background, hand nervously resting on his upper lip, eyes masked in worry as the group had come in - it seemed whenever something happened to Silver Bullets, he was always at interrogation, especially their table. Making sure wrongs were righted and that whatever was going on, was fixed. He looked out for them.

"I was, sir," Kennedy managed out, shifting a bit, as more sweat dripped down her face, briefly catching the worried look from Judy just a few people down. Her eyes caught on Vivian's gaze opposite her own. She then found Francis watching her, and tried to avoid her emotions that she felt as she noted the ones in their co-pilot's own. The only thing keeping her steady was Lieutenant Bradshaw's presence beside her.

In some innate way, having Lieutenant Bradshaw there kept her from losing it.

"It was quick," Kennedy said, "I figured flak or….something from one of the fighters. German fighters. Bullet spray." Kennedy saw Paulina nod her on encouragingly.

"Sergeant Ratcliff was manning her post….so, I went to Sergeant Harlowe," Kennedy said, her eyes filling with tears, her voice breaking, "I got her out of there. As quick as I could. I…I laid her down. There was blood…..everywhere…." Kennedy trailed off. She was staring at her hands again, covered in blood. Margie's blood.

"I was able to stop the bleeding from both the side of her face and her shoulder. Took what bandage was there and wrapped her shoulder. Set it in a splint." Paulina said quickly, her words firm and much more logically-backed and confident than Kennedy's would ever be, "I ensured that there weren't blocked airways and she could breathe. It was a joint effort, Sergeant Farley and I, to ensure her safety." Kennedy looked to Paulina and gave her a slow nod of thanks, to which Paulina nodded back. Because that's what they did for each other; having each other's backs like this.

"Alright," the interrogator said, making a few extra notes before clearing his throat and looking towards Lieutenant Bradshaw, who was sat there stoic and quiet, "we lost Browning and Alder. How many chutes….?"

Kennedy watched in a reeling bit of slow motion as Judy sat there and recounted the number of chutes she had seen, Marianne and Francis chiming in with their own recounts and visuals. How many more chutes would they have to count, planes going down all around, before this would be over? Before this nightmare would end?

Kennedy looked to the empty chair where Margie would've sat and felt her heart sag and her throat tighten with emotion she had been forcing herself not to feel. It was eerily similar to when Captain Faulkner had taken the hit. When she had died. They still had sat around this stupid interrogation table, having to talk about that mission, about what had happened, with Captain Faulkner's chair left open, her presence highly gone. They all remembered that. It hurt.

Whether it was the fact she was sat at that table, or was used to a constant presence of eyes, she glanced upwards and found, from the middle opening space where some of the brass would linger in times like this, Major Egan watching her, his hands placed on his hips, and his eyes seeking out her own.

Kennedy had never been wrapped up in any sort of long-winded conversation with Major Egan - their differences in rank and formalities were already a larger factor than needed when it came to talking to him and she didn't want to incite any sort of inappropriate ideas past that. They'd debated about baseball a few times - her, a raging Red Sox fan, him a stupid Yankees fan - and they'd even had a few conversations that were outside that realm. But it was never anything much more than that. And she intended to keep it that way. Yet, something in his gaze made her not want to look away from his face, from his eyes, from his presence stood there in the center of the room.

"Sergeant Farley?" She snapped her head away from his eyes and back to the table - many of which of the Silver Bullets girls were currently watching Kennedy with sorrowful and worried expressions, while Lieutenant Bradshaw eyed her curiously.

"Sorry?"

"The number of chutes from Browning. That you saw?" the interrogator asked. Kennedy righted herself and straightened her back.

"Right."

When they were dismissed, after Kennedy had been sat, blanked out for a greater portion of her time there in the seat, Lieutenant Bradshaw had caught her before she could run away, pulling her to the side, with a warm hand on her shoulder and a soft look in her eyes.

"You should go visit her," Annie said quietly, "I can tell by the look in your eye that you won't change out of these clothes or eat until you do." Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw did know her rather well in that sense.

"Yes, ma'am, I will," Kennedy said firmly, reaching up to wipe at the beads of sweat still trickling down her face - whether from the stress still circulating her body or the idea of Margie there on a cot, unconscious, she wasn't sure, "you do the same." Annie watched her with a smile before reaching up to squeeze her shoulder.

"I will, Farley," she said, before patting her shoulder, "and wash up. A few of the girls were planning on heading to the flying club tonight. Destress and all." Kennedy smiled softly and nodded.

"Will do." she said and Annie smiled before turning and heading off - leave it to Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw to instill what comfort they all needed after something like that. Birdie used to do much of the same - Annie even had the same look in her eye as Birdie usually did after a mission. Kennedy smiled slightly.

"Sergeant Farley." The achingly familiar voice struck her system and she turned to her left to find Major Egan walking towards her, as she watched him approach with that slow, even and swaggering gait, his crusher cap a bit lopsided on his head, sweat dropping down the sides of his face, as he wore that stupid, beige sheepskin jacket that she had offhandedly made fun of him for that one time (and proceeded to rub in her face ever since).

"Sir." she said, saluting him quickly as he came to a stop in front of her and shook his head, reaching up to bring her arm down from the position she'd taken up.

"Nah, nah, don't worry about that bullshit," he said and she raised her brows, "Harlowe. Sergeant Harlowe - is she good? Is she alright?" Kennedy stared at him, her heart pulsating inside her chest in a way that made her unable to get her breathing entirely under control. She watched him, tilting her head to the side and then managed to find her footing.

"Not entirely, but she's alive," she said firmly, with a nod, "flak hit up top. Or….stray bullets. Either way, she was hit and knocked out. But she's fine now." Kennedy watched him as she spoke, his eyes refusing to leave her own as he stared down at her, his larger-than-life presence soaking up every part of the view in front of her, the worry in his eyes, covered with that joking nature a slight surprise and the deep breaths he was taking enough to make her fail at controlling her own.

"And yourself?" he asked her, the corner of his lips poking upwards, a smile fighting to be on his face.

"Me? Sir, I, uh, I'm fine," she said quickly, sputtering a bit like a small child, "I'm fine seriously-"

"Good, good," he said quickly - they were pretty quick with whatever they seemed to be talking about here, "just…..when the planes came back and Harding said something about Silver Bullets taking a hit, I thought…..thought the whole goddamn plane had gone down from the way he was fucking talking so." She stared at him. He stopped talking and then stared at her, before running a hand over his face and nodding to her. She stared back at him, unsure of what to say.

For probably the first time in a long time, looking at him, she did not know what to say. This panicked approach to this sudden stillness and quiet. There were voices all around them, nurses bustling about with medics and doctors, and pilots with their crews meandering away from interrogation like limp horses, dragging gear that was nothing but a pile of garbage behind them. And the smells - like gasoline, smoke and death wafted through the air, enough to make a person want to vomit. She needed to go see Margie, and she was beyond sure that Major Egan had somewhere better to be as well. Kennedy wanted to move her feet, but she couldn't. No part of her was moving or even ready to move. Major Egan was stock-still in front of her as well.

"Is there….something else, uh, sir?" Kennedy didn't know what to do with Major Egan sometimes - call him sir, but he told her not to bother? Call him sir because he was the one who held rank? Major Egan continued to watch her and then ran a hand down his slightly sweaty face and shook his head.

"No." he said quickly, firmly, "You should get a check on Sergeant Harlowe. Make sure she's alright when she wakes up." If she wakes up, Kennedy thought, but that sour idea in her mind disappeared as Major Egan nodded to her. She stared at him for a moment longer, before she slowly nodded to him, turning away from him. She took a few steps before she could hear his footsteps and feel the placement of his hand wrapped around her elbow.

"Farley," he said, his voice quieter, as she stopped her paces and turned, her eyes searching his own as she looked at him, "seriously, you alright?" She stared at him, slightly surprised at the way his voice had grown softer, his eyes less vibrant than normal.

"Yes," she told him, but as he tilted his head towards her, she felt her heart race a bit faster than normal and couldn't help but take a shaky step back from him, "it was just a lot today that's all. But it's a lot every day. Nothing new. Can't complain." Major Egan watched her, like he was trying to diagnose whatever the fuck was currently wrong with her, acting like she didn't just watch their flight engineer and closest companion almost die.

"You like the jacket?" he asked her quietly, and it didn't take long for what stress she had in her mind and heart to roll back into that violent ocean crawl of waves and a small laugh to leave her lips.

"Is that why you came waltzing over here?" she asked him, her voice low, as she crossed her arms, "Because if that's all this was about, I'm just going to head to the Med-Bay now." Major Egan let out a dry chuckle and looked to her.

"And if I told you it was?"

"I would happily discard that jacket for you, even start a bonfire." she said, "We could get real fancy." She stared at him. "It looks ridiculous."

"You sure about that?" he said, popping up the collar, which made her roll her eyes, "I think it fits me pretty well."

"I would beg to differ," she said, "seriously, an A-2 would do you one better."

"You going sweet on me, Farley?"

"Since when did that idea get into your head?"

"You like me in my A-2, admit it."

"It would look better than that shitty thing."

"C'mon, Farley, don't leave me hangin' now." She raised a brow at him as she crossed her arms across her chest and smirked his way.

"Goodbye, John." she said, with a grin, turning away, only to have him placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her back around. She looked up at him.

"For someone so hellbent on making his rounds, you sure seem to like hanging around me." she said quietly, with a small smile, watching as his eyes seemed to twinkle in the hazy afternoon sunlight.

"Consider it a compliment." he offered her.

"A compliment?" she said with a small smile, "Didn't know you handed those out. And for free?"

"Farley…." he said with a slight groan in his voice that made her laugh as she reached forward and nudged his shoulder.

"It's okay to admit that, Margie says I'm a grand friend to have anyway," she said, watching his gaze soften at her, "it means a lot, truly."

"Friend's a word." he said with a shrug, his face tensing up slightly as she stared at him.

"Yeah." she said, with a nod, "And so is goodbye." He stared at her and she smiled up at him.

"I'm only kidding," she said, before her face fell a bit, "seriously, you okay? You weren't even on the mission and you look seriously fucked up." Kennedy had hoped that keeping up with this banter, this light-hearted, dare she call it flirting, maybe would lift his worrisome and lonely spirits, but he seemed drawn into himself and concave again and she wasn't sure what more to say.

Hey, even going as far to compliment his physique's correlation to an A-2 was pretty nice of her!

And something she wasn't actually lying about - not like she had spent too long staring at his broad shoulders over breakfast the other day (but no one except her knew).

"Didn't know you handed out compliments with a side of self-degradation, now huh?" he said and she let out a scoff and crossed her arms to look at him again.

"Seriously, John, what's wrong?"

"You can call me, Bucky, remember?"

"John."

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing, just…." he looked around, that lazy smile on his face, and looked back at her, hands rested on those hips of his again and looked to her, "does anything have to be wrong when I come to talk to you?"

"Usually there is something wrong."

"Kennedy-"

"Alright, look," she said, "if you don't budge, I'm gonna head to the Med-Bay, check in on Margie." She was playing her emotions really well, so well she had almost forgotten the mission altogether.

"So, you gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to decode it from you myself? Beg on my hands and knees? Don't make me look that pathetic." Major Egan watched her with a slight smirk and she shoved his shoulder again.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like whattt?" he said as she rolled her eyes with a laugh, "Oh, c'mon, Kennedy, I'm supposed to hear that Silver Bullets took a hit and not think about you?"

Kennedy's smile dropped and it seemed the realization hit Major Egan at the same time and for a moment, they were just standing there, staring at each other like deer in headlights. She couldn't look away from his eyes, because for the first time there was something more than besides his usually flirty, joking self. Hell, that was just how he normally was - no stake in the ground with a soul, moving with the wind, taking him where the Lord put him, all that bullshit. For a second, she almost thought she wasn't hearing him straight and was going to leave it at that. But no, he'd said that and she was sure her face matched the color of her dirtied ginger hair and her strawberry-blonde ends.

"Egan!" The two turned from each other, in what had been a…rather intense stare down and found Crank coming towards him, "Harding needs us!"

"Give me a fucking second, Crank! I'm talking here!" Major Egan yelled back before turning to her and gulping, before parting his lips as if to speak. She stared at him still, unable to find the words that would amount to much of anything.

"Don't give me lip, Bucky - look, we gotta go!" Major Egan turned.

"Just a minute, Crank, seriously." Major Egan called out before turning to her still stood there.

"You really should go." she finally said, her voice somewhat hoarse as she did so, like she couldn't get the words out right, "Colonel Harding-"

"I don't care what Harding thinks right now," he said firmly looking at her, "look, Farley, I-"

"It's fine." she said quickly, plastering on a smile quickly and a nod, "I'm fine." Major Egan looked far from convinced in that moment. Because she wasn't convinced herself.

He had heard Silver Bullets took a hit and suspected immediately it was her?

That's why he had looked at her like that?

In interrogation?

She wasn't much to him, so she thought, at least - what…the few conversations they'd share? She'd practically egged him on into conversations about baseball where it was less of a discussion and more of a debate. If anything, he should've heard Silver Bullets and suspected about Annie or Francis.

"Go on," she said, shoving down her feelings and emotions, offering a small smile, "Colonel Harding sounds like he really needs to talk to you. Plus, if you must continue to talk about your stupid sheepskin, I'll be at the flying club later. Maybe I'll even beat you in darts. Again." Major Egan stared at her, for the first time, a little wordless and nodded.

"Kennedy, I-"

"It's fine." she said, convincing herself the very same - if she acted like she didn't hear it from his lips, then it never happened. He never said those words, never looked at her like that, never even bothered to tell her he was worried about her after hearing about Silver Bullets getting hit. If she ignored it, it wasn't what had happened.

And it was better that way.

"Bucky-"

"A second, Crank, please!" Major Egan yelled over his shoulder again, before looking at her and sighing, jabbing a thumb behind him.

"I gotta…." he started, his words fading as he managed a weak smile at her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said quickly, with a nod, and a forced smile.

"Let me know how Harlowe is…?"

"I will." she said as he began to backpedal backwards, his eyes holding hers still. Then, she watched Crank come up to Major Egan's shoulder and spin him around before pointing and frantically talking. Then they were walking away and disappeared. Kennedy stood there like the wind had just been taken out of her sail. Why'd she act like that?

"Hey! Kenny!" Kennedy turned and found Judy coming up to her, with Bessie and Carrie behind her, splitting a few cookies in their hands, "Here you are. We thought we couldn't find you." Kennedy stared at Judy, who came up beside her, with bright eyes, before looking to Bessie and Carrie, who shared a look before looking at Kennedy.

"You alright, Farley?" Bessie asked her, glancing in the general direction of where Major Egan had wandered off to, "What'd Bucky want?" Kennedy snapped into her usual collected self (which took far more effort today than usual) and ran a hand over her hair, cringing at bit at the smell of oil and grease that followed - which undoubtedly Major Egan had smelled - and sighed.

"Heard about Margie." she said firmly, cooly, kind of quick at that, like she couldn't get the words out fast enough to cover her ass, "He knows we're close and wanted to check in. Make sure things were okay."

"Always sticking his nose into all our bullshit," Carrie muttered, crunching off a piece of the sugar cookie and shaking her head, "you know I heard the other day he was trying to ask Bradshaw for a tour of Silver Bullets. Next thing you know, I'm tearing into him, telling him he touches my area, my shit, it's over for him-"

"He just wanted to make sure she was okay, Bergie," Kennedy said with a shrug, "guess it just gets old, hearing about losing people. Over and over."

"Especially someone from Silver Bullets." Judy finished for her, "Bucky's always been sweet as peaches to me, anyway. It's mighty kind of him to come and check up on you. Knowing how close you two are. He's got an awful soft-spot for Silver Bullets."

"Some soft spot." Carrie said with a slight chuckle and smirk, glancing at Kennedy, who rolled her eyes, ignoring the looks, and glanced back to the direction of where Major Egan had gone.

"Let's go to the Med-Bay," Judy said, "I'm sure Margie would want to see us when she wakes."

"What this face?" Carrie said, "We all look like sorry excuses for circus clowns."

"At least a little flak never scared off that charisma, Bergie." Bessie said as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the whole group burst into chuckles as they headed towards the Med-Bay, sharing cookies and smiles.

But all that was on her mind, until the hit the Med-Bay doors was that Major Egan had thought of her, when Silver Bullets was said to have gotten a nasty hit.

Her.

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wexhappyxfew · 10 months ago

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quiet reprieve

(a/n): for the annie x brady mota girlies, featuring annie bradshaw, john brady and a cameo from ken lemmons, and the women of Silver Bullets. enjoy!!

"It was pretty much a crap-shoot the second we got across the channel," Lieutenant Montez said, popping the cigarette off her lip and glancing towards Annie - clenched jaw, slightly blank stare forward, white-knuckled grip on her peak cap in her hands, her knee going a mile a minute.

It had been basically a complete, utter, mess from the second the plane was prepping to drop the bombs; Achterberg yelling over comms about some flak coming in at 3:00, Rybinski hollering from the ball turret about a faulty piece of the gun that needed checking, just as a spray of bullets penetrated from just below, with Carlisle yelling over all the noise her coordinates. It had felt like chaos. And it had been. Annie remembered her glancing towards Lieutenant Montez at one point and seeing her cold-stone stare somewhere lost in the flurry of clouds and graying smoke in front of them as a few chutes went out to their right.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, any chutes from Son of a Gun?" Annie looked up from her daze and found the entirety of Silver Bullets, along with the interrogator staring at her. Sitting up a bit, shifting a bit uncomfortably, she cleared her throat and nodded.

"Yes, sir." she said, "All 10. We all counted. Confirmed it with Stagliano." Annie looked towards Stagliano who pulled the cigarette off her lips with a nod.

"All 10, sir," Stagliano said, the few scraps along her face from the rocking of the fort scattered on her cheek, "I wouldn't say Flying Colors was as lucky. Only 2 chutes." The interrogator seemed to let out a quiet sigh and made a few notes.

Gazing at the group of women was an even sadder affair than she was sure she could possibly handle; the drawn out looks on their faces, the exhaustion, the level of tiredness that lingered in their eyes, or the way they just seemed relieved to be on the ground.

Annie slowly looked over at the other tables - their crews dispersed about, members giving both distinct and scattered descriptions of whatever the hell had just happened. Through her exhausting eye search, she found her eyes caught on another pair of eyes that were intently caught on her own.

Captain Brady - the one that had hopped a ride with her and Major Egan as she had been shown the officers' club. He looked slightly different without the peak cap on, and his face looked more worn than it had a day or two ago, his hair sweaty and stuck a bit along his forehead, the stress-lines strewn against his forehead and cheeks. He almost was looking right through her it felt, like there was this being behind her, waiting to take her away, but she could tell that he could sense her there.

"I couldn't see much beneath me, sir," Rybinski said, her voice dry and monotone - much more dampened and sodden than she had ever been in the short time Annie had known her, "it was pretty much gray smoke from over the channel to dropping the bombs. German fighter came pretty damn close though, sir. Little too close for comfort."

"Flying Colors definitely was only 2 chutes, though," Ratcliff said, leaning forward against the table and lacing together her slightly soot-covered fingers from the metallic of the ammunition, a sigh escaping her lips as she cleared her throat, "can't say much else though, it went down in a ball of flame."

An awkward cough seemed to follow her words. Annie had seen Flying Colors go down in a rather quick matter. An engulfed ball of flame. Plummeting to the Earth.

A flying grave.

"Their chutes caught fire," Harlowe offered, "sir, the two men who jumped." Annie noticed Harlowe leaning back and shutting her eyes. What they saw, what they heard. It lived in them, it grew and fed off their fear, off the memories, of all of it. Annie watched as the interrogator crossed off Flying Colors with a quick flick of his pencil.

"How were flying conditions, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" the interrogator asked, "Ideal?" Annie looked up from her spot, meeting the interrogator's eyes, and slowly clenched her jaw a bit.

"Just fine." Annie said, "Flown in worse." The interrogator marked it down on the mandatory box for weather conditions, before placing down his pencil; the table grew relatively quiet, a few coughs, finger tapping and shifting of people in their gear.

"You're all dismissed," the interrogator said and Annie looked up from her white-knuckled grip on her peak cap, "get yourselves some food and rest." A few other tables were slowly moving about, getting their things and heading to the mess hall, clearing tables, folding maps and taking last minute sips of coffee previously handed out, all the sorts.

Annie shook the interrogator's hand, gave an attempt of a smile in his direction and then turned and headed outside, placing her peak cap on top of her head.

Stepping into the bright, rather warm sunlight was a world of difference from the inside of the interrogation room - the breeze was sweet, the sun bright and for a second, she almost had forgotten she'd been in the air not too long ago, one of the engines smoking, yelling over comms, bodies and planes falling from the sky in a smoldering array of death, the whizz of enemy fighters just outside of the fortress. It was unnerving.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw." Annie turned and found Captain Brady coming towards her, running a hand through his hair before adjusting the peak cap on his head and stopping just in front of her. Annie met his gaze and offered a quick salute and he nodded her off.

"What can I do for you, sir?" He watched her for a moment, his eyes seeming to hold onto hers as if looking away would suddenly shift the axis of the Earth.

"Was gonna go check on the fort," Brady said, nodding over to the tarmac where the ground crews were making quick work of some of the damage done, "lost a few engines while we were up there and want to make sure things are shaping up. Wondering if you wanted to come with. You look like you could use a step away from all this for a moment." Annie looked up at him and swallowed before nodding.

"Yes, sir," she said. He offered a bit of a smile - the corner of his lip turned up and for the moment, that was enough, especially after the hell of the day. The two started walking side by side, their uniforms still looking in a rather sorry state, but their gear was mostly removed and the breeze was beginning to wick the sweat from her forehead from the most part. It was quite beautiful when you forgot there was a war on, especially here at Thorpe Abbotts. The sky, the breeze, the green grass, the people all about.

"How'd it go up there for you all?" Brady asked her as they continued their leisurely walk forward, "And before you say anything, I must admit, that was the most relaxed I'd seen Lieutenant Montez coming back from a mission, even when today was a total shit-show." Annie looked up at him and noticed the slight quirk of his lips and smiled a bit and nodded.

"It went alright, sir," she said, "we lost a few engines, too, smoking, the whole-nine-yards. But, she did great up there. I'm lucky that she's my copilot."

"That you are." he said quietly, before glancing her way, clearing his throat, "I've been meaning to ask, what got you here?" She glanced at him and a slightly nervous laugh left his lips.

"A plane, sir." she said, the slight hint of a smile back onto her lips as she watched his gaze. The laugh that was playing at the edge of his lips slipped out and he looked to her again.

"I mean, what were you doing before you were here. What made you think - yeah, B-17s?" he asked and she chuckled quietly and crossed her arms and nodded.

"Originally, I was a translator, sir - German, French, some Russian….or well, it was a fair attempt at Russian, sir, can't say it ever went smoothly, but I was trying to just do that. Translating." she said with a nod and then glanced at him, "I was stationed at Fort Des Moines, and one of the women I was close with, got me a gig working on some of the planes - we had some B-17s there at some point. Started doing supply runs, started getting real comfortable. Eventually did so much with B-17s, that I got my license and then was training with a group in Texas. Then, I got the call." Brady watched her.

"And now," she said, smiling briefly, "I'm here, sir."

"I know the women are glad you're here," he said with a nod, "after everything with Birdie, I think you were what they needed." Annie watched him for a moment and nodded, her throat tight at the thought - the mental image yet again infiltrating her brain.

"Thank you, sir, I appreciate it." she said and Brady offered her a smile.

"It's the truth," he said, "you fit in well." Annie found herself unable to hide the grin and she nodded.

"And I know Major Egan is a big fan of yours," he said, a sideways look her way and she let out a laugh and shook her head.

"That's quite a stretch, sir," she said, "I think he didn't like the fact that I referenced him to be Cinderella at times." Brady laughed - had he always laughed like that? Because it was quite a nice sound.

"Well," Brady said, stopping and turning towards her, a small smile on his face, eyes soft in her own gaze, "I think it's kinda funny to see his feathers ruffled knowing you won't take any of his shit." Annie shrugged and stuffed her hands into her pockets and smiled.

"Ruffling feathers seems to be a party trick of mine, sir." she said, nodding at him, "I seem to bring it out when warranted."

"And with Major Egan, I can promise you, it's warranted." Brady said. Annie let out a small laugh and shook her head. She glanced over at Silver Bullets stood beautifully in the bright sunshine, noticing Lemmons and Wink there working away at one of the engines.

"Want to join me, sir?" she said nodding over to Silver Bullets, "Before heading to your fort?" Brady smirked a bit - smirked, yes that's right - and nodded.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," he said, his voice lower than what it had been and she smiled slightly, before turning and moving towards the B-17 that she felt like she were slowly becoming both protective and maternal over.

"Hey, Lemmons," Annie called as she approached, Brady somewhere behind her - she could feel his eyes on her back, she just could at this point. Lemmons turned on the ladder in front of engine 3 and offered a wave, before saying something to Wink, and climbing down.

"Hey, Lieutenant," he said, reaching forward to shake her hand, before noticing Brady, "Captain."

"How's she looking?" Brady asked him, as Annie gazed up towards the cockpit of Silver Bullets, once filled with smoke and now still and silent.

"If only those engines hadn't gone," Annie said quietly and Lemmons smiled slightly.

"Well, I can promise you both she'll fix up just nicely," he said, "Wink's almost done with 3 and we'll be moving to 4 and then doing some refinishing, repainting - I'm rewiring something on Lieutenant Montez's side, that alright, ma'am."

"Of course." Annie said with a smile, "Whatever gets her in the air again." Lemmons smiled and readjusted his gaze to Brady.

"What's got you so concerned about Silver Bullets, sir?" Lemmons asked, "Your fort seems pretty much unscathed besides the engine so." Brady offered a slightly hesitant smile and glanced at a rather expectant Annie before looking back at Lemmons.

"Just wanted to make sure our replacement pilot has been getting what she needs, done," Brady said, "looks great, Lemmons." Annie caught Lemmons' eyes who raised a brow in her direction before turning away. Something shifted in her gut and she looked towards Brady, the sprinkle of red on his cheeks not just from the fact it was a little warmer than normal outside and she held back the grin.

"Well, sir, I can promise Silver Bullets is in good working condition, with an intelligent pilot to match," Lemmons said, looking up towards the berth of the wingspan, "I wouldn't worry too much. She flies like a beaut." Brady let out another one of his nervous sprinkles of laughter and nodded.

"I appreciate it, Lemmons."

"Don't you worry, sir," Annie said, looking up towards Brady, "Germans won't have a pot to piss in when she's back up and running again." Brady chuckled and then glanced at Lemmons.

"Your fort's coming along, by the way, sir," Lemmons said, "she's just over there, feel free to get a look at her and let me know if you need something else done. Otherwise, I'll finish up here, do your engines and move on."

"Alright, thank you," Brady said and then glanced at Annie at his side, "give me a few minutes, I'll be back." She nodded at him and watched as he took off around the side of Silver Bullets and disappeared. Lemmons glanced at her and chuckled.

"What's got him laughing so much?" Lemmons said and Annie glanced at him.

"What?" Lemmons came towards her, wiping his hands on a grease towel, smirk on his face.

"Captain Brady - giggling like a school girl, 'bout what? Never see him like that, usually got a sour look on his face." Lemmons said and Annie shrugged, crossing her arms.

"I don't know, probably trying to forget about the cluster fuck of a mission," Annie said honestly and Lemmons chuckled, throwing the towel over his shoulder and nodding.

"Right," he said, "that or the look on your face, ma'am. Either way, he's grinning like one of them Cheshire cats. Especially when he's around you." Annie watched as Lemmons smirked and then turned and walked away. Annie was positively sure her face was the color of the most ripened tomato you'd ever seen.

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