Author's Note: Ladies and Gentlemen, this story is a combination of a bunch of different ideas that having been rolling around in my head over the last week as I've suffered from insomnia (a.k.a. the gift of the creative mind). I've written fan fiction before, under a different pen name, but it has been at least a decade since I've published anything. I am notorious for losing interest or suffering from severe writer's block, so this is a big deal for me. I only ask that, as you read this, please keep in mind that my writing will not be perfect, as no writer's is, and be polite in your comments. I welcome all feedback but only if you are kind about it.

Also, if you would be interested in being a beta reader for me, drop me a PM and I'll get back to you. I've learned in the past that beta readers are what make the fan fiction world go 'round. I'm always excited to have someone to bounce ideas around with. It is imperative for me to not lose interest in what I'm doing or to overcome a stumbling block.

Lastly, after this story is more established, I'll be interested in hearing what you, dear readers, would like to happen. A writer is not a writer without his or her readers, and if I can incorporate any of your ideas into the story, I will be happy to do so.

With that being said (and the promise of no more novel-length author's notes) I hope you enjoy my little story. And remember, reviews are oxygen to fan fiction authors! Thank you, everyone!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my own original ideas and my OC, Adahlia Strom. You can bet that if I did own Captain America or any of the Avengers, I'd be "sitting on a beach sipping an iced tea" and not pecking away at my laptop, wondering when the next round of bills will arrive in the mail. )

PROLOGUE

All she wanted was for them to shut up and get the hell out.

The white tent adorned with a large red cross was crammed full of people in sweaty, dirty uniforms. They were all pushed back as far as she was able to convince them to go from the large olive Army cot where he laid, uniform soaking in blood, dirt caking his face.

Never before did Red Cross Medic Adahlia Strom believe that the Captain Steven Grant Rogers, the infamous Captain America, would find his way, battered and somewhat broken, into her little slice of the war. She usually was only allowed to treat very basic injuries; "cuts, bumps, and bruises," her boss, Major Lucas Willowby, had told her. "You're not a doctor, so I'm not going to simply hand you the opportunity to kill a dying soldier."

But little did Willowby know that Adahlia had a secret, one that made her the most qualified people on the front, whether she was a woman or not, to treat the dying and diseased soldiers.

Adahlia wasn't the most imposing woman in the 107th Infantry's encampment. Agent Peggy Carter held that prestigious title and she had no plans to challenge that fact. It amazed Adahlia how Peggy was able to not only keep men of the 107th in line, but do it all while never getting her uniform dirty, her lipstick smugged, her red, polished nails chipped or broken, and keeping her brunette pin curls in place. The fact that the two had become fast friends when she had joined the 107th's medical team helped as well. In a great war such as this, fierce and independent women such as they had to stick together if they were to make it in a man's war.

Peggy knew Adahlia's secret, knew of her skills in medicine, and that was why Captain Rogers lay before her. Peggy's affections for the Captain were obvious to anyone who bothered to take the time to look, as were his toward her, and Adahlia had discerned long ago that if Captain Rogers was ever hurt with more than a scrape or bruise, Peggy would not hesitate to seek out her aid.

Adahlia knelt on the dirt floor of the tent, her medical supplies arranged neatly on a small tray that rested on several old milk crates beside her. Leaning over the Captain, she began to remove the upper portion of his uniform. A lock of hair had worked its way from her high ponytail, the dark honey colored strands falling in front of her blue and gold eyes. She pushed it back, frustrated at all the zippers and snaps that seemed to be hell bent on keeping her from treating her patient.

"You know," she murmured to no one in particular, "someone may want to broach the topic with Howard Stark about making the Captain a uniform that doesn't take six hours to remove." Adahlia turned to Peggy and cocked an eyebrow. "It's a good thing he isn't dying because he'd be dead before I ever got his uniform off."

"We'll be sure to mention that to him, oh, I don't know, after you treat Cap," Dum Dum Dugan snapped quietly.

From his place to Dugan's left, Jacques Dernier muttered so as not to be heard by Agent Carter. "Mon Dieu , comment peut-elle faire des blagues A un moment comme celui-ci ? " (My God, how can she make jokes at a time like this ?)

"Très facilement , Monsieur Dernier . Il est appelé un mécanisme de défense , ou avez-vous pas entendu parler de lui ?" (Very easily, Mr. Dernier. It is called a defense mechanism, or have you not heard of it?) Adahlia cocked her head to the side and glared up at Dernier. The man at least had the decency to blush, knowing that he had in fact been heard and the young female medic in front of them was not pleased by his comment.

Peggy shook her head, eyes never leaving the Captain's unconscious body. Despite the Super Soldier Serum, his physical form had at least had the sense to put him in a peaceful slumber so as to begin repairing itself. This was a relief to both the agent and the medic as they both knew that no pain medication existed that Captain Rogers' hyper-metabolism wouldn't blast through in a matter of minutes.

"Could we please allow Miss Strom to treat the Captain? I'm certain were he awake Steve would not want to hear anyone bickering over him," Peggy begged, her soft English accent taking on a hardened edge.

Adahlia knew how stressful this situation was for the SSR agent. Up until this point, Captain America had been damn near invincible. Sure, there were instances where he would come back from battle with a few bruised ribs or a couple of cuts, but nothing that the serum he had received wasn't able to mend in a few hours or a day at most. Now, Rogers lay in the medical tent, unconscious, with at least three knife wounds and a bullet in his left shoulder.

Having finally managed to undo the upper portion of the Captain's uniform, Adahlia began to assess the wounds on the battered man before her. "The knife wounds are to the upper right quadrant of the abdomen, the lower left quadrant and the right bicep. The abdominal injuries appear to be of shallow penetration, no more than a centimeter, while the bicep would is approximately two to three centimeters. I'll debride and cleanse the wound tracks, apply antibiotic ointment and bandage them. I'll also stitch the bicep wound just to be safe. The other two, I'm sure, will heal by tomorrow, if Captain Rogers' previous injuries are any indication. The bicep wound should heal in the next couple of days."

A sigh of relief escaped Peggy's lips and washed over the faces of the men in the tent. Though hardened as they were, the men of the 107th Infantry's Elite Combat Unit were loyal and loving to their Captain, especially Rogers' second-in-command, Sargent James "Bucky" Barnes, his childhood best friend.

Having dared to defy Colonel Chester Phillips orders upon discovering that the 107th, Barnes' unit, had been captured by Hydra, Rogers had enlisted the help of Peggy Carter and Howard Stark to get behind enemy lines to attempt a rescue of his beloved brother. To the men hovering around the tent like worried mothers on their child's first day of school, Steve Rogers was more than just their leader. He was their rescuer, their brother, their best friend.

"What about the bullet, Doc?" Jim Morita, the unit's communications officer, piped up.

Adahlia couldn't help but smile a little at how Morita had referred to her as "Doc." Not correcting him, she slowly peeled the fabric back from Rogers' shoulder and examined the hole that bore through the flesh where the shoulder and clavicle met. "Looks like a small caliber with shallow penetration." Adahlia reached for a pair of small tweezers on the medical tray beside her. Slowly, gently, she reached into the wound and cautiously removed the offending bullet. "There, simple enough." Holding the bullet up for inspection by the men and Carter, she could finally hear the flow of breath that had ceased when she began her ministrations.

The bullet was indeed a small caliber, no bigger than a raisin, but the tip was mushroomed. It was unlike any bullet the medic had ever seen. "Have any of you seen anything like this before?"

"Hydra," Lord James Montgomery Falsworth slurred venomously.

Gabe Jones turned to Peggy Carter, a fierce look upon his face. "I thought you and Phillips told us we were just going against some run-of-the-mill Nazis this time? What the hell?"

Peggy was dazed, as if unable to comprehend the evidence before her. "We did and you were. This…this is…I don't know…"

"Well, now I think we can safely assume that Hydra is supplying some smaller Nazi factions with new weaponry," Barnes stated. Everyone turned to him, letting his words soak in. Sure, they all knew that Hydra was a Nazi organization, but now there were more Nazi units being supported by Hydra? That was the last thing the Allies needed. "Great, like we need anything more to worry about."

"What's one more mess to contend with?" asked a small, hoarse voice in a whisper. Everyone in the tent focused their gaze on the man lying on the cot.

"Captain Rogers, so nice of you to join us," Peggy said, the relief on her face evident, the palpable tension of the men easing away.

Cracking an eye open, Steve Rogers looked to his childhood friend, a silent question passing between them. Barnes nodded. Yes, we got 'em and no, no one else was hurt.

"Good," Rogers murmured, lifting his head slightly to gaze at his team. "Good job guys." A look of sheer exhaustion from the small exercise graced his face as he let his head fall back gently on the worn pillow. "Oh seven hundred tomorrow we go back out and take out the rest of those bastards."

"Not so fast, Captain," Adahlia said. Rogers had not yet noticed the young woman. She leaned over his face so as to prevent him from turning his head.

"Who are you?"

"She's the one who is going to fix you up, so you better not pull any more foolish stunts, Captain," Peggy provided.

At hearing the tone of her voice, Rogers blushed and tucked his chin. Gazing up at Peggy, he said, "Sorry, Peg, just did what needed getting done."

The agent scoffed at this, shaking her head from side to side. "That's what you always say." She motioned to the men standing behind her. "Come on, boys, let's let Adie do her job. We can come back later to visit if the Cap feels up to it." Her gaze fell on his face, her eyes saying what she dared not to say in front of the other men. Whatever you did to get yourself hurt, don't ever do it again. If you do, I will personally deliver you to the Pearly Gates myself.

"Yes, ma'am," the soldiers muttered under their breaths. Despite being a woman, and British to boot, each of the elite fighters knew better than to go toe-to-toe with Agent Peggy Carter. None wished to piss off their Captain and all wished to avoid her now infamous right hook.

Captain Rogers smiled at her and gently nodded, assenting both to his friends visiting him and the unspoken words between the would-be lovebirds. "In the meantime, Steve, try to do what Adahlia tells you. She may not officially be a doctor, but she'll take better care of you than any one of them would."

Another wordless conversation passed between Carter and Rogers, easily deciphered by the medic. I trust her and not them, so please trust me when I tell you she's the best. The Captain gave another soft nod of understanding and, with that, the brave men and fierce agent left Rogers and Adahlia alone.

"Finally, I can breathe." Adahlia let out a small chuckle and rested her weight on her haunches. Steve turned his head ever so slightly to look up into her eyes. "While I love the loyalty of your men, there is only so much testosterone I can take at one time and this tent has been filled with so much that it was beginning to make me claustrophobic."

They both let out a small chuckle and smile at her words. "That bad?" Steve asked her.

Risely slowly, Adahlia stretched her muscles that were sore from being in one position for so long. "Not terribly so, but, you have to admit, this tent is rather small. Then add a large Super Soldier, the six men under his command, and their key liaison to the mix…almost stifling!" she joked. "It would have been optimal just to have Agent Carter and Sargent Barnes in here with you but your men were having none of that."

Rogers smiled again, always in awe of the loyalty of the men he led. Never in a million years had he imagined he would be in command of a team of such skilled soldiers, fighting for the freedom of the world. Just goes to show you were a little faith and a whole lot of perseverance can take you. A faint blush crept into Steve's cheeks, slightly embarrassed by the amount of attention he had been receiving. "Sorry about that, ma'am."

Adahlia patted him gently on his arm. "No need to apologize, Captain, and call me Adie. It's the least you can do since I did undress you." She watched as the Captain's blush intensified. "relax, I just undid the top of your uniform so I could get to your injuries." Turning to the side, Adahlia began to soak sterile gauze with antiseptic in preparation for cleaning Rogers' wounds.

"Then call me Steve, please." He turned his head to the left, watching the medic work. He had seen her around camp before but had never spoken to her. Another beautiful dame in this dreary hell hole, he thought. Though he only had eyes for Peggy, Steve couldn't help but notice how attractive his attendant was, all soft curves and pretty smiles.

"Well, Steve, what do you say we start getting you patched up so you can go out and punch Hitler again?" Adahlia asked, a smirk gracing her features. She leaned over him, holding forceps with the prepared gauze pinched in their tips.

"Yes, let's, Adie." Rogers flashed her a wide smile, comforted by her cheerfulness.

End Note: I do not, nor have I ever spoken French. The translations above come directly from Google Translate. If I have, in any way, royally misinterpreted those sentences, I apologize.