This has been sitting on my desktop and bouncing around the back of my head for... actually nearly a year now. I saw the Civil War trailer and all my Captain America/Avengers feels came back. I started looking through some of my old story ideas on my computer and found this. I started getting really into it again, so I've decided to set aside my Naruto stories for a while - they weren't going well anyway - and focus on this. I hope you enjoy!

Prologue - Job Offer

I sighed in pleasure as I set the last sheet of cookies into the oven, smiling as I anticipated hot sugar cookies. Shutting the oven door, I hung the pot holder from a hook near the stove and set the timer, resting it on the counter. I brushed my hands together, pleased with the accomplishments of the afternoon, and left the kitchen, heading for the living room.

In one corner was my desk, which was where I headed. I sat down in front of the typewriter and flexed my fingers, readying myself. The desk on the left side of the typewriter was a mess of scribbled notes and excerpts from textbooks. The right side held only a pen and a neatly-arranged stack of papers that was now fifteen sheets thick.

I picked up my glasses from the mess of papers and slid them onto my nose.

"Now, where was I?" I mumbled, reading through the last few printed sentences on the paper in the typewriter. "Ah yes."

I raised my fingers to continue typing, only for a knock to cut me off two letters in. Grunting in annoyance, I tugged off my glasses – I hated to be seen in them – and set them down on the desk, standing and going to the door. I rose up on my tiptoes to peer through the peephole.

I gasped. Standing on my doorstep was Colonel Chester Phillips. There was another man with him, but of far more importance was

"Uncle Chess!"

I whipped the door open and beamed at the officer standing there. He smiled back, stepping forwards and hugging me. I inhaled deeply, taking in his familiar scent of gunpowder and paper. I hugged him back tightly, smiling as he kissed my cheek in a fatherly manner. I pulled back.

"Josie, it's been a while," Phillips greeted.

"Last May, I think," I agreed. "What are you doing here? And who's your friend?"

The other man stepped forwards, offering his hand. "Doctor Abraham Erskine."

Erskine was my height, slightly taller with his hat. He wore a tweed jacket and had a slightly scruffy beard and moustache. His hand was warm and solid. I took a deep breath, inhaling antiseptic, ink, and something almost buttery. He seemed like the stereotype of a college professor, and I couldn't for the life of my figure out why he would be with a military man like Phillips.

"Wonderful to meet you," I said, shaking his hand. I nodded towards the inside of my apartment. "Would you like to come in?" I asked.

"That'd be best," Phillips said, pulling off his hat as he stepped inside. Erskine did the same.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, settling myself on the couch and crossing my legs. I folded my hands and rested them on my knee, cocking my head at Phillips. "It sounds vaguely like this visit is for business and not pleasure." The two men hung their hats on the stand by the door and I gestured for them to sit on the chairs across from me, smiling as I did and adding, "That would be a shame, considering I wouldn't have an excuse to break out Great-Granny Nevade's leaving home present. Do you drink, doctor?" I asked innocently. Erskine looked between Phillips and I uncertainly, giving me the distinct impression that I wasn't the only one not quite sure what they were doing here.

"Occasionally," the German doctor replied. I smiled.

"Good!" I lunged up from the couch, flapping my hands at the men as I passed and urging "Sit, sit!" They sat as I hustled into the kitchen, using a toe to hook my step stool out of the corner behind the table. I nudged it over to the oven and climbed up, opening the small cupboard there. It was used for one thing and one thing only: for storing alcohol and glasses.

I dragged down the bottle I was looking for and a trio of tumblers. I set them on a small silver tray with a cork screw and hustled back into the sitting room. The tray I placed on the coffee table and began pouring glasses.

"Nineteen-eighteen, the year I was born," I said, proffering the bottle for Phillips to examine. He whistled, impressed.

"Nevade doesn't like to part with those bottles," he recalled. I smiled secretively.

"Well, it was a special occasion," I said, passing out the glasses. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure, Uncle Chess?" I asked, sitting myself back down on the couch with my tumbler in hand. I breathed in the scent, letting it curl across my tongue while I waited for a response.

Phillips took a sip and made a sound of satisfaction. "Damn good," he approved. "As to why we're here… the good doctor here is heading up a project, developing a weapon that could turn the tide of the war."

I raised an eyebrow. Then there was only one reason they were here. "And you want me to be involved?"

"Colonel Phillips," Erskine broke in. "While I'm not opposed to working with this Miss Ealum, I have no idea of her qualifications. You simply told me that I would be interested in having her aboard."

I looked from Erskine to Phillips, narrowing my eyes accusingly. "You haven't told him," I guessed.

Colonel Phillips shrugged. "You tend to be touchy about who knows."

"Of course I am!" I huffed. "I don't need more people telling me I shouldn't be doing what I do. I get enough of that from my stepmother," I grumbled, forgoing sampling the scent of the bourbon before I tossed back a hearty gulp.

"What exactly is it that you do?" Erskine asked.

I looked from him to Phillips, who nodded approvingly. With a sigh, I set my glass aside and leaned forwards, folding my hands on my knees. "I write papers, doctor," I explained, "on the topic of genetics, mostly. Human genetics and mutation, those are my areas of interest. My papers," I continued, "are published under the name of Elias Orlem, because," I gave a small, self-pitying small, "no one will be interested in reading the work of a woman whose only experience in genetics is her own research and readings."

Erskine's eyes had been going progressively wider as I spoke, and now he looked completely delighted. He turned to Colonel Phillips, scowling in annoyance. "You told me it wasn't possible!" he said irritably. "That Orlem was a myth who couldn't be found."

Phillips shrugged, looking entirely unashamed. "Normally that'd be true. Besides, I didn't want to get your hopes up before I knew Josie would take the job."

I raised my eyebrow, sucking in my cheeks. "And how did you know Josie would take the job?" I demanded. I snatched my glass up and sat back, ready to take a long sip.

"Because I've spoken with Columbia University," Phillips said seriously. "And they're willing to offer you a degree in genetics if you prove yourself on this project."

I choked, the liquor burning its way down my throat and into my lungs as I sputtered. "Beg your pardon?" I gasped around my coughs, covering my mouth with a dainty hand. "They'll do what?"

"That's right," Phillips said, looking proud of himself. "You get the qualifications you need, Erskine gets the assistant he wanted, and I get a lab worker I don't have to actually pay. Everybody wins."

Sadly, Phillips was right, although I didn't want to admit it. The idea of finally having a degree to my name, or writing my ideas under my own name, of having the ability to get a job in a real lab where I could really test some of my theories… It was all I'd ever wanted, handed to me on a silver platter, and all I had to do was help the military.

It wasn't even a question. Some might have been hesitant to get involved with the Army, but I was not. A handful of my many cousins had already enlisted or were talking about it. We were, very much, a military family. My father was a Lieutenant Colonel stationed overseas in Greece at the embassy. That was how Colonel Phillips knew me, he and my father were old friends. 'Uncle Chess' as I called him used to drop by often when I was younger. To reminisce, to eat, to have the odd boxing match or shooting contest with my dad. I grew up surrounded by the military, and I trusted colonel Phillips not to get me involved in anything I wouldn't want to be.

If only out of his fear of Great-Granny Nevade. The woman was eighty years old and she could still make a grown man cry for his mother.

"What is this project?" I asked, curiosity coming out now.

"It's codenamed Operation: Rebirth," Phillips said, smiling slightly. He was confident I would be signing on. I noticed Erskine roll his eyes at the mention of the codename, like he found the whole idea silly.

"And what's the goal?" I pressed.

"Doctor?" Phillips said, turning to Erskine and urging him to explain. "Maybe you'd like to give a little back story on this one?"

"Of course." Erskine took a drink and then set his glass aside, clearly readying for a story. "I was a scientist in Berlin, until a man named Schmidt, the head of the Nazi deep-science division known as HYDRA, hears of my work. He comes to me, asking me to work for him. I refuse. He…" Erskine paused, a haunted look overcoming his face. I could guess that whatever this Schmidt had done to get the doctor on his side was not the kind of thing one talked about freely.

"Ich verstehe," I murmured, nodding to the man sympathetically. His eyes lit up slightly at my muttered German.

"He didn't like that," Erskine said simply, before moving on. "But eventually, I managed to gather some of my research and sought asylum in the United States. I offered them my program."

"And what were you working on?" I asked interestedly.

"It is a serum," Erskine said, leaning forwards intently, "designed to create a superior man. Stronger, faster, smarter, better, than any other," he said almost reverently.

I nodded in understanding, looking between the two men. "So you get to see your research realized and the Army gets super soldiers," I said. "It's quite the deal."

"That's what we thought at the SSR. Your father ever tell you about the SSR?" Phillips asked.

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve," I said, nodding. "He only mentioned that you were involved in it in one of his letters. So that's who you're working with?" I asked Erskine. He nodded.

"We are currently hiring scientists to work on the project. I mentioned a need for a genetics assistant to the colonel. As a joke, I requested that he find Elias Orlem for me – the mysterious American geneticist, whose identity no one knows," Erskine said, looking at me in amusement. "I did not think he would actually do it!"

I laughed slightly. "Well, Uncle Chess is remarkably good at bending the world to his whim." I leaned over in Erskine's direction teasingly. "You know when I was younger I wanted to learn how to box, just like my father. He couldn't teach me without angering my stepmother, so guess who stepped in?" I nodded pointedly to Phillips. "And suddenly my cousins couldn't dog pile me quite so easily."

"Well," Phillips said, shifting uncomfortably. I got the feeling I was utterly ruining his reputation as the stoic colonel. "It wasn't much, really… I… Look, are you interested in the job or what?"

I narrowed my eyes, smiling slightly. "You knew Josie would accept the offer. What do you think my answer is?"

"Well then, a toast to your newest team member doctor," Phillips said, rising his glass. Erskine did the same. I flushed and hastily refilled my glass. Phillips gave me an incredulous look. I shrugged innocently and lifted my refilled tumbler aloft, clinking it with the other two.

The oven chose that moment to go off. I hastily sipped from my glass before setting it own and scurrying to the kitchen.

"Well, sugar cookies and bourbon isn't exactly the most normal of lunches, but are you gentleman interested?" I asked as I plucked up the potholder, opening the oven door. I pulled out the pan and wafted the smell pointedly towards the living room. I was very proud of two things when it came to my abilities: my baking and my brains, and I wouldn't tolerate insults to either.

"Yes please!" was the resounding answer from the living room. I grinned and started pulling cookies off the tray.

"Good. Doctor, would you mind looking over the paper I'm working on now? I would appreciate a second opinion."

What do you think? Good? Bad? Taco? Let me know! I'd like to take this through Captain America, the Avengers, maybe even some other Marvel movies.

Real quick - the title of this story and the lyric in the summary are from Only Forever by Bing Crosby. It's a very sweet love song and I recommend giving it a listen. That'll sort of be the theme song for Josie's story.

Ich verstehe - I understand