The next few days are agonizing. Everything is rush, rush, rush, rush then wait, wait, wait. Steve feels like she's never sat around and done so much nothing before in her life. It's all so stupid. The rushing to get somewhere, only to have to sit and wait once they're there. Why can't they just get there when they're needed and get started right away? Why do they have to wait?

And of course, it's extra torture for her. The first thing they do when they get on base is rush over to medical and wait around for another exam. The nurse purses her lips when she weighs Stevie, and the doctor frowns while he listens to her breathe and takes her pulse.

"This man is unfit for service," he says after calling the lieutenant that's been escorting them around over.

The lieutenant shrugs and says, "I was told this was just a formality. You're just supposed to sign the papers."

"He's ninety-five pounds. His blood pressure is 140 over 90, and he's wheezing. There's no way he can go into combat."

"Yes, but my orders…"

"To hell with your orders. I cannot, in good conscious, let this man out of the hospital, much less to basic training."

"I'm not sick," Steve said. The other guys are shooting looks in her direction, and she tries not to blush or duck her head. "I'm fine. I can do this."

The lieutenant nods his head. "Doctor, these men are under SSRs command. You need…"

"You know what, fine. SSR wants this one so bad, they can send their own doctor over to sign his death warrant."

Which is what they finally do. The rest of the men are taken off to chow and Steve has to wait for Dr. Erskine. After about an hour, a nurse comes with a cup of coffee and sandwich. The doctor drops by and gives her some tablets to take care of her wheezing. After about an hour, Erskine finally appears.

"I hear there is a problem?" he says in his soft, mild voice to the doctor who is currently trying to explain to Steve all the horrors that await her on the battlefield.

Steve lets out a sigh of relief and gives Dr. Erskine a small smile.

"Yes," the doctor says, turning to Erskine. "This man shouldn't be here. I don't know how the hell he got this far."

"I approved him. He is in a special program."

"Oh, I know about you the voodoo hokum you all are planning to do over in that secret club of yours, but this man…"

"This man is none of your concern." Dr. Erskine picks up Steve's file and signs it with a flourish. "There. Now you can rest easy. Come along, solider."

Steve leaps to her feet. "Uh, thanks," she says to the doctor, because her mom would be disappointed if she wasn't polite to someone who'd just been looking out for her. Then she follows Dr. Erskine. "Thanks."

"There is no need to thank me. I said I would give you a chance, and I am only following through on that promise." He leads her outside and down a path towards some buildings.

Steve nods. Then, she asks, "Is he right? Am I just setting myself up for death?"

"No. If all goes right, you will come through this stronger than you were before."

"What did he mean? The voodoo hokum thing? What does that mean?"

Erskine stops and turns to her. "The Scientific Strategic Reserve was put together to help create the perfect solider. Through training and through science. Now this science is advanced, more advanced than most people can understand. To them, it looks like nonsense. Like magic. But it's science all the same."

She tilts her head, considering Erskine's words. "So. You're giving us pills or something to make us stronger?"

"Not pills. And not just stronger." He nods at a building and hands her the file with her medical records. "The rest of the platoon is in there. I'll be seeing you."

"Thanks," she says as he walks away. Then she turns and jogs to the building. She opens the door, steps in, and hears the sound of twenty voice falling silent at the sight of her.

Her entire body flushes hot with embarrassment. Trying not to show it, she crosses the room to the lieutenant. "Medical sent me over." She holds out the file.

The lieutenant takes it and gives her a clipboard. "Fill these out quickly. We need to hurry over to get you all outfitted."

"Yes, sir." Steve finds an empty chair and begins filling out the forms. It's standard stuff: name, date of birth, next of kin, and so on. All to be filled out in triplicate. She puts Bucky down as her next of kin, because he's the closest thing she has.. Her hand is cramping by the time she's done, and everyone else is sitting and talking. Waiting for her to finish up.

And then, they're taken to the next place, which is uniforms. They sit outside the warehouse for almost two hours, watching other platoons head inside as civilians and walk out dressed as military.

"Hey, runt. Hey." A rock hits the toe of Steve's shoe.

She looks up.

"Don't I know you?" the man sitting across from her asks. He's studying her face like it's a puzzle.

She tries not to sigh. "Um, no. I don't think so." She says a silent prayer that he's not able to place her.

But then his face clears and falls into a familiar smirk. "You're that little loudmouth I beat up the other day, ain't you? From the movie theater?"

The men around them are watching them now.

"Yeah," Steve says tiredly. "Yeah, that's it."

"He was mouthing off to me at a show," the man says. "I took him around back and taught him a lesson."

No one says anything, but Steve can see them sizing them up. About few of them smirk, like they'd just heard the best joke. The man next to her just huffs a sign and kind of rolls his eyes.

"I'm Gilmore Hodge." The bully sticks out his hand.

"Steve Rogers."

"So, skinny Steve, you got any idea what this is all about? Why we're all here?"

"I thought we were waiting for uniforms."

"You really are a wiseass, aren't you?"

She smiles. "I don't know any more than you do. All I was told that I was being given a chance. What about you?"

He shrugs. "My draft card was pulled and I was told to show up for orders. While I'm there, this colonel comes over and asks if I want the chance to let the Army make a real man out of me. A real warrior. I figure why not? I signed a paper and here I am. I just don't get, if they asked someone like me to do this, how I ended up with someone like you."

"What do you mean, someone like me?" She's on her feet, fists clenched at her sides.

Hodge rises in an easy, smooth movement, the same smirk from the other day plastered on his face. "We all heard the doc. You ain't fit for duty. So if you're here, what does that mean for me?"

"I am as fit for duty as any of you."

Hodge shoves her. She stumbles back, almost losing her balance. Her fists come up, ready.

"Hey, none of that!" The man who was sitting next to her jumps to his feet and steps between her and Hodge. "We're soldiers, guys, not kids on the street."

Steve, heart racing with adrenaline, nods. "Right. Right." Swallowing, she holds out her hand. "Truce."

"Yeah, whatever." Without taking her hand, Hodge sits back down.

The man pats Steve on the shoulder. "Don't mind him. You know the type: too much muscle, not enough brain." He gently pushes Steve back to the line and sits down. "I'm Tyler Paxton."

"Steve Rogers."

He shakes her hand. "A buddy of mine has a girl who's a nurse. She says that she heard the SSR is trying to make some kind of scientifically engineered soldier. Like, using chemicals and stuff to make us stronger and faster. They've even got Howard Stark secretly working with them."

"If it's a secret, how does she know?"

Tyler smiles crookedly. "It's the Army. The more secret something is, the more everyone talks about it." He shrugs and adds, "I figure, if they want to turn me into the perfect solider, who am I to say no?"

Steve nods. She toys with telling him what Erskine told her, but just then the lieutenant comes back and orders them to their feet and they finally go inside for uniforms.

Getting her uniform is another ordeal. Nothing fits her. Even their smallest set engulfs her body. It takes forever for them to take in and shorten a pair of slacks, and even then, they're still a little long. The suspenders help, but the shirts going to be a little big until they can get new ones. And the helmet…

Well. They get it so it stays on her head and doesn't fall over her eyes when she tilts her head back. But she can hear giggling and can't even blame anyone. She looks ridiculous.

By the time she rejoins the rest of the men, she's tired, cranky, and a little sore. Her bottom hurts from sitting on it so long, and her neck hurts from having to tilt her head back so many times to test the helmet. The sandwich has long burned off, so she's hungry, and she just wants to do something. Anything!

"All right," the lieutenant says. "Form two lines here. You're about to meet the people in charge. Remember, when you're at attention, you look straight ahead. Don't turn your head to look who's talking to you, don't move your eyes. Keep them on the horizon. Don't scratch, don't fidget, hell. Don't even breath. And, don't mouth off. You're not the big man on the block any more and no one wants to hear you jawing."

"Recruits, attention!" a woman says sharply.

Steve does immediately. A thrill rolls through her as she does, and all her complaints fall away. Because, wow. She's here. She's a solider. She finally did it. She's where she belongs.

A beautiful woman with thick brown hair and big, serious eyes stops in front of them. She looks them over a moment before giving a sharp nod. "Gentlemen, I'm Agent Carter. I supervise all operations for this division," she says in a melodious English accent.

Not something that Steve was expecting, but she goes with it. Dr. Erskine is German. Yeah, he defected, but it's not like just America is in the war. Maybe the SSR is some kind of cooperative operation between the Allies.

"What's with the accent, your majesty?" Hodge drawls a sullen voice. "I thought I was signing up for the US Army."

Steve winces internally. They were just told not to mouth off to their superiors, and Hodge can't last one second? Of course, this is a man who thinks pounding on someone half his size is a bragging achievement, so maybe she shouldn't be surprised.

Agent Carter has Hodge step forward, but Steve gets distracted when she's handed a clipboard.

I, the undersigned, understand that my participation in this experiment is voluntary and…

Agent Carter decks Hodge, who hits the ground. Steve has to bite back a laugh of delight. She can't stop the grin or the look of admiration she gives the beautiful agent. Gosh, she hopes that Agent Carter teaches her to do that. Maybe she'd even let Steve practice on Hodge a few times.

"Agent Carter!"

"Colonel Phillips," she says to the grizzled, greying man who walks to the candidates with the stride of a man who's conquered the world.

"I see you're breaking in the candidates. That's good!"

The man who'd handed Steve the clipboard gives it an impatient tap. Steve quickly scribbles her name over it, not caring to read anymore. She'll gladly follow Agent Carter into Hell, never mind the legalities. Besides, she's already agreed to let them do whatever. She needs to be in this war.

"General Patton has said wars are fought with weapons but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best men." He voice falters, and Steve can feel his eyes on her.

She straightens her shoulders. Tightens her jaw and repeats to herself that she has just as much right to be here as anyone else. She's being given a chance.

"And because they are going to get better. Much better. The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of the best minds in the free world. Our goal is to create the best army in history. But every army starts with one man. At the end of this week, we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of super-soldier. And they will personally escort Adolph Hitler to the gates of hell." He looks at the soldiers again, eyes lingering on Steve. "You got questions, now's the time to ask them."

There's absolute silence. Steve can feel a thousand questions wanting to be asked, but no one wanting to be first.

She takes a deep breath. Raises her hand.

"What's your name, son?"

"Rogers. Steve Rogers."

"And your question?"

"Um. What… How are you going to choose the man to be… a super soldier. Sir?"

"Good question. And when you need to know, we'll tell you. In the meantime, question and answer time is over. I think you men have stood around long enough. You will now be taken to your barrack where you will unpack and make your beds. If you don't do it right, you will make and remake it until it's perfect. You will then have chow, hit the sack, and be out here at oh five hundred for PT. Any more questions?"

There was nothing.

"All right men, fall out!"