Hello everyone! So, I know I'm still writing Timeless, but I started this one and couldn't stop. Don't worry, Chapter 5 of Timeless (if you read it, that is. If not you should) will be out hopefully by next Friday, I have not and will not abandon that one. In the mean time, I wrote this little story that I have stupidly decided to possibly be my next full length story along with Timeless!

This one will be Bucky/OC

I also do not own anything Marvel already owns.

Tell me if I really should continue this one.

"The SSR," I said, pointing to the initials on the board. "Who can tell me what that stands for?"

A young woman piped up from the back, "The Strategic Scientific Reserve, ma'am."

"Thank you Cadet Chang," I looked around the room, as my eyes landed on a handsome brunet at the front of the class. "Cadet Johnson, since you seem to know all this anyway, would you mind taking a brief break from flirting with Cadet Swan long enough to tell me who did the SSR go up against?"

Cadet Swan blushed and shrank down in her seat, but Johnson just gave a smirk and replied, "HYDRA ma'am." I waved my hand, indicating he should continue. "HYDRA was the Nazi's version of the SSR, 'cept they were a tad bit crazy for even Hitler. Lead by the Red Skull, HYDRA was determined to take over the world."

"Thank you Johnson. Swan, what did the SSR decide to do about the Red Skull and his plans for world domination?" Swan squirmed in her seat, something that made me cringe a little. She needed to learn to control her emotions if she were to ever be an agent.

"They assembled a team, ma'am," she spoke softly. "Lead by Captain America, called the Howling Commandos."

"Correct," my smile almost faltered. Maybe I wasn't ready to teach this class. "Now what were their names?" I was met with an assortment of different name. Jones, Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, and Dernier.

"It seems you all know your Howling Commandos," I replied, "But you're missing one. Yes, Cadet Lane?"

"Sargent James Barnes," she replied. "Captain America's best friend."

"Correct," I picked up the graded essays. "But it seems to me that all of you have chosen to write about any of the other Howling Commandos that wasn't Sargent Barnes. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but it is a curious observation. Yes Cadet Martinez?"

"Honestly, Agent Rogers, it's because we know more about the others. What's there to write about Sargent Barnes, anyways? We know the rest of their stories, some had written books, all have talked about what they did, but Barnes died before he could even do any of that. I understand that we have to take this class, but we're gonna be field agents anyways, not historians, so why try to hunt down information on a guy who has been dead for seventy years?" Well, that stings a bit.

"How many of you feel this way?" over half the class raised their hands. "Alright, well, number one, this class is important. This isn't just American history, this is S.H.I.E.L.D. history. This is how we started. And number two, Agent Martinez, if you could've dug up at least a little information to write a two thousand word essay that would've help in your investigation skills, which all field ops need. Finally, your new assignment for this week will be to give me a three page essay on Sargent Barnes, Martinez, to be presented as a case in front of the whole class. Everyone else, get in your sweats and meet me by the track. We're running laps."

The class grumbled, but removed themselves from their seats and filled out. I stopped Martinez, "If you want any help, just ask. Part of investigation is questioning people who know your target."

"Thanks Agent Rogers," he moved passed me, taking a turn towards the library.

"He'll be a good agent one day," I turned to the voice, smiling when I saw who it was.

"He will be. Chang too," I said walking over and giving the man a tight hug. "How are you doing Coulson?"

"Haven't been better," he said, returning my hug. "And I think your day might get a little brighter."

"Oh yeah?" I stepped back and began gathering up my papers. "Why, is Barton back from his mission?" Clint Barton had quickly become one of my best friends in this new age, but we had a nasty prank war raging between us and I had opted for a classic: a bucket of water above his door.

"Not yet, but I doubt he'll fall for such a childish trick," Coulson smirked, shaking his head.

"That's why it's so genius, Phil," I quipped. "He'll never see something so childish coming. So what's the good news?"

Coulson couldn't hide his grin at this, and without missing a beat, he says, "You may want to tell Martinez to call you, you're need in New York."

I scowled, "Can it wait?"

Coulson shook his head, "This has been waiting seventy years, Ellie." I dropped what I was holding, and turned toward the agent. "They found him, Ellie, and he's still alive."

I braced myself against the desk, visions running through my head. Finally, I lifted my blue eyes to Coulson, "When do we leave?"