[Bucky's on deck, in the snow, wearing his Howling Commandos uniform and looking cold, but not miserably uncomfortable. His rifle's slung over one shoulder - you can see the strap - and he runs a hand through his hair briefly before speaking, shaking the snow out.]

You know, this is my fourth Christmas away from home. [And while there's definitely something kind of wistful in his expression and voice as he says it, he also doesn't seem especially broken up by it. This is more an observation than whining.] Three years ago I was in Africa, two years ago I was in London while we were putting together the Commandos, and last year, I was freezing my ass off in Bastogne.

[It comes out a little like a joke, but obviously it's not quite actually funny. You had to be there? Humor's the only way to really deal with some of this fucked up shit?]

Most everyone thought we'd whip the Germans in a couple weeks after D-Day, and we'd definitely be home by Christmas, but they broke out in the Ardennes on December 16th, caught everyone with their pants down. The 101st and a couple other units got cut off at this little Belgian town called Bastogne outnumbered five to one, with no supplies, no reinforcements, no way to get out. The Commandos were in the area anyway, so we snuck in to get them some stuff as an early Christmas present. Day after Christmas, the Third Army broke through the German line so more supplies could come in and the wounded could get evacuated, but the guys would've said they didn't need anyone coming to their rescue, and I kinda believe 'em.

I'd been through a lot of rough shit in the Army, but those guys were something else. Sitting in those foxholes, I was the coldest I've ever been, and I had gear that was designed to hold up to bad weather. They didn't, so they got trenchfoot and frostbite even if they were being careful. Hot food was a joke, the medics had to keep bottles of plasma shoved under their armpits to keep them from freezing...

[He trails off, expression caught somewhere between that same not-quite-amused look from before and just empty distance. It's not quite wistfulness, not by a long shot, but maybe something like it.]

It's nice to know that those guys won't be somewhere like that their next Christmas. Maybe they're even gonna get to be with their families. [And then Bucky just grimaces a little, mouth turning down in an unhappy frown.] The ones who got out anyway.

[Private to the Admiral]

( gifts for steve, helena, morgana, scott, stiles, isaac, ben, lydia, kira, allison, mason, stephen, mickey, jean, babs, dillon, luna, ian, snafu and souji + everyone in boot camp )

You know, I don't really remember what year the breach was supposed to be in, but I was a kid, back when Prohibition was still on the books. Kinda weird to live through it again as an adult, considerin' three year olds who just moved to New York from middle of no where Indiana usually don't pay all that much attention to that kinda thing.

What are the odds we'll stop over that way, any time soon? Not that Redemption wasn't nice and all, but I haven't been home in two years and it kinda sounds like things are pretty different now. [Since you know. Most of you are from way past 1945.]

[Private to Natasha]

[... So this is awkward. It was easy enough to shake off having been in a failed relationship with her as teenagers at a magic school, but being married and in love and all that was... weird. And he hasn't really known what to say about it since it happened, so when he does finally decide to send her a message, it's something short and hopefully not really acknowledging the not sure how feel about the whole thing.]

You're not actually related to those Romanovs, are you?

[Private to Ben]

How're you holding up, kid?

[ooc: Pretend this got posted closer to the beginning of the week before school ate me. >>]