Author's Note: I got one done! Ah, yes, I love the challenge of deciding how to make OCs. Geez, a lot of them sure seem to be making an appearance, don't they? If any of you guys want faces to match all of them up with, just ask (review or PM, whatever), and I'll post a list for you all next chapter. Speaking of chapters, here's the next one! Read, review, favorite, and follow if you feel so inclined and I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm actually Stan Lee and own everything. (Just kidding, please don't sue me.)

Editing: All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

Face Claim: Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of One Tree Hill set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

Chapter Nine

February 23, 1943 – The Mess Hall, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin

I found myself lazily walking around the camp. Part of me really wanted to go drop off my copy of A Study in Scarlet, but all of me wanted to avoid Dr. Erik Bateman for as long as I possibly could. His words still stung, but Bucky had effectively lifted my spirits in some type of way. It was strange, but I was glad that I had him there with me, no matter how arrogant or annoying he could be. A familiar face was nice to say the least.

In no time though, I found myself hopelessly lost, in a part of the camp that I hadn't been to yet. I suppressed a groan of annoyance, wishing I'd asked Buck for directions to the mess hall to meet the two lab assistants. The worst part was that there weren't even any soldiers in sight to ask, so it was surprisingly quiet, minus the exception of occasional gun fire from the shooting range.

With a sigh, I kept walking, figuring I'd eventually find a place I'd recognize, or at least someone to ask where the mess hall was. Unfortunately though, I figured the boys would be gone anyway by the time I found my way there. I didn't even know who I was looking for. Well, I did, but I didn't have faces to match the names to. This was going to be harder than I thought.

As I walked, my mind roamed and found its way to Frank Jackson. Frank Jackson, who was currently in Africa, fighting for his life and our freedom. Who had asked me to marry him and I'd turned him down. That hadn't destroyed him though and he'd asked for me to wait for him. The man was in love with me, there was no doubt about it. I'd seen that same love struck expression on the faces of actors in films countless times. It was almost painful knowing that I didn't fully feel the same way.

With a startling realization, I came to that decision just then. I didn't love Frank. Okay, no, let me rephrase. I did love him, but I wasn't in love with him. Not like he was with me. I loved him, I shared affection for him, but it wasn't head-over-heels in love, the stuff of books or movies or romantic tales. I just didn't reciprocate Frank's undying love for me, and I hated myself for it.

What was wrong with me? A mannered, very handsome man literally was throwing himself at my feet, and I was turning him down. I had turned him down, and here I was, thinking on how I was going to tell him when he got back from war. He was going to get back from literal Hell on earth, and I was going to break up with him. The sheer thought made me sick to my stomach, and thinking about the hurt look on his face made it even worse. My mind drifted to Bucky and I realized that he didn't even know that I was seeing anyone. And then I hated myself for even thinking about Bucky as I thought about Frank. Bucky had nothing to do with the way I felt about Frank Jackson.

But he doesn't exactly help, said a small voice in the back of my head.

Shut up, I told it.

I groaned out loud and hadn't even realized that I'd stopped walking, my fingers subconsciously wrapped around the chain of Frank's silver cross. I winced and closed my eyes for a second, dropping the necklace, hating the concept of emotions with every fiber of my being. I hated the fact that I loved Frank but I wasn't in love with him. I hated the little tug in my chest that gave way every time I saw Bucky, despite my attachment to Frank, which I was sure I was going to break.

"You okay there?"

I gave a little yelp and spun around, clutching my book to my chest. Behind me stood two men, dressed in regular slacks and suspenders, with button-up shirts. The first man's shirt was white, the top two buttons undone, his black suspenders clinging to his frame, hands dug into his pockets. His black hair was slicked to the side, his pale blue eyes bright with amusement. He was a good few inches taller than the other and significantly more muscular. The other man's suspenders were lopsided as one kept falling down his right shoulder. His shirt was black and unbuttoned and terribly untucked with a white undershirt underneath. His blond hair was mussed up and a few days stubble stuck to his chin. He was grinning lightly.

"Don't you guys know not to sneak up on a girl in an army base full of men?" I demanded. "I have to be on guard enough with all these hoggish soldiers around…"

The dark haired one snorted. I realized with a start that they vaguely reminded me of Bucky and Steve. "Hoggish soldiers? All men are hoggish, doll, including us." He winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Hoggish? Speak for yourself, I am a perfect gentleman," said the smaller man. He smiled at me. "Excuse him, he hasn't seen a lady in weeks, much like me, but I know how to control myself."

Okay. They really reminded me of Bucky and Steve.

The fair haired one stuck his hand out to me. "Quentin Belfort," he said as I lightly grasped his hand. It was unnervingly soft. Using his other hand, he jerked a thumb at his companion. "That's—"

"Nathaniel Adams," the taller man interjected, extending a hand. I shook his as well, and it was rough and calloused, a sharp contrast compared to Quentin's. "We're the lab assistants here. You must be Dr. Frost?"

"AJ," I supplied. "Sully told me about you two."

"Ah, yes old Sullivan. If you've met him then you must've met Sharkbait too?"

I looked him sharply. " 'Sharkbait'?" I asked.

Nathaniel grinned at me. "That's what all of us call Bateman. Not to his face, of course. It's in the hopes that one day he'll become what his name insinuates. Shark bait."

"So he's really that bad all the time?" I asked, dreading the answer. A knot had tied itself in my stomach at the mere thought of Bateman, with his cold blue eyes and degrading smirk. I had a feeling his goal was to make my stay at Camp McCoy complete Hell and so far he was succeeding.

"Yep, all the time," confirmed Quentin. "He seems to think he's God's gift to scientists everywhere and the rest of us are incurably stupid. And yet yesterday, I watched him set his own lab coat on fire. It doesn't help that he's always drinking, either."

I looked up at Quentin, my eyes widening slightly. "He drinks in the lab?"

"A lot," confirmed Quentin. "An alcoholic for sure. Nate and I…we think…" Quentin cleared his throat, but still didn't speak.

"We think he hits Sully," finished Nate.

My expression went carefully blank and I felt my blood begin to boil. "Hit Sully? Like…hit hit him?"

Nate sighed. "Yeah."

"I wish his lab coat would have caught him on fire. I would have paid to see that," I grumbled lowly.

We'd started to walk together, though I wasn't really sure where we were heading. The boys were wordlessly leading the way.

"Already have something against him?" Nathaniel asked.

"He said some things," I replied cryptically, not really wanting to delve into the subject. Tears were already pricking my eyes just talking about Bateman. "And if you guys think he hits Sully, I wouldn't be surprised."

"I won't ask," Adams continued. "We all have Bateman stories we don't want to share. He is quite awful. The first day I got here he told me I was an inerudite jock and that I had no place in the lab."

"You do sports?" I asked.

Adams grinned at my wording. "I play baseball. Or, I used to, until I got drafted for lab work with Bateman. Don't get me wrong, I love it. The concept of the serum, kicking some German and Japanese ass, and getting the USA the win…it would be a dream come true. I just wish Bateman wasn't a part of it."

"We all do, bud," said Quentin with a sigh. He locked eyes with me and shrugged. "But we make do, I suppose. There's not really a thing we can do about it, am I right?"

"You are," I said.

We lapsed into silence for a moment until Quentin spoke again. "So where were you headed, AJ?"

"I'm…not sure," I confessed. "I was just walking, really."

"A little cold to be 'just walking', don't ya think?" teased Nathaniel.

I realized with a start that he was right. It had gotten quite chilly. I'm not sure what I expected. It was winter in Wisconsin. My arms tightened a bit more around my torso and shiver ripped through my spine. "I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, I hadn't realized," I muttered.

"Well, a penny for your thoughts then, Ms. Frost?" suggested Nathaniel.

I glanced up at him. He wore a radiant grin that seemed to light up his entire face. His pale blue eyes danced with amusement and in that moment, he really did remind me of Bucky. He was handsome, but not nearly as so as James Buchanan Barnes. But of course, maybe I was a tad biased.

"Well, Mr. Adams, I barely know you," I said, smirking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I suppose that is true, but this is a wonderful way to get to know each other."

"There are other ways to get to know each other that don't include me divulging my innermost thoughts to you, Nathaniel."

"Please, it's Nate. And you're right, there are. Have dinner with me? I-I mean, us."

I gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, yeah, I just meant me."

I rolled my eyes and couldn't hold in my snort as I heard Quentin groan beside me. "I have plans tonight, thank you very much," I said. Not I have a boyfriend, or I'm taken, but that I was busy. I swallowed my guilt and remorse.

"Busy?" Nate's nose scrunched up quite adorably. "With what? You're on an army base full of hoggish men, you said so yourself!"

"And you told me you're one of those hoggish men."

"I was kidding!"

"Right…" I said. Beside me, Quentin burst into laughter, unable to contain it through short coughs or clearing his throat.

"She's telling you off, Nate, let it go," he said when he finally stopped snickering.

"Yeah, yeah. You really have something going on then?"

I nodded. "Dinner with a friend," I confirmed.

"On an army base? Here? You have friends?"

"Girls and guys can be friends, you know, contrary to popular belief."

"I'll believe it when I see it," grunted Nate. "But you have around three hours or so…plans?"

"None," I said.

"Hang out with us, then," piped up Quentin. "I've been dealing with this jockstrap for the last month without anyone else to talk to. Other than Sully and Sharkbait, but Sully's too scared of Sharkbait to leave and Sharkbait's an asswipe."

I must have not looked convinced because Quentin folded his hands and pushed out his lower lip. "Please?" he begged.

I rolled my eyes as a smile tugged at my lips. "Fine. But only because you said please."

And that's how I ended up spending almost three hours with Nathaniel Adams and Quentin Belfort. I discovered in that span of time that the boys were surprisingly down to earth. Both of them reminded me a lot of Steve and I was happy to see there were more guys like him out there.

Nathaniel had been raised by a single mother with two younger sisters, twins. He'd been the man of the house, essentially. I realized that he was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met. Both of them were great listeners while I told them about my first meeting with Sharkbait, and while Quentin just liked to listen, Nate liked to put in his two sense and when he spoke, he always seemed to say exactly what I needed to hear, whether it was putting down Sharkbait or telling me to not listen to his crap, in nicer words.

Quentin was quiet. I liked him, but he was just a quiet fella who definitely preferred listening to speaking or giving advice. While we spent the day together, Nate did most of the talking and sometimes Quentin piped in here and there, but it wasn't often. But when he did, he was a funny guy who didn't seem to realize it. When I laughed at something he said, he always got this surprised look on his face and smiled brightly.

I liked the two lab assistants quite a bit. It was calming to know that I had friends on the base and I wasn't completely alone.

Eventually, we found ourselves back at the lab. It was fifteen minutes to six, when I was supposed to meet Bucky and his friends under the tree for dinner. Nate and Quentin looked at me uneasily.

"You have to put your book away sometime," said Nate with a half smile.

He was right. I was still holding onto my copy of Doyle's book in my hands and I really wanted a coat. The sun was just starting to go down and it was getting colder. The only thing that was stopping me from entering the lab was the sinking feeling that Sharkbait was inside, presumably leaning over some lab bench and yelling orders at poor Sully who didn't deserve to be treated like an undereducated moron.

"Can sometime be in the middle of the night when Sharkbait's asleep?" I asked hopefully in a small voice.

"Sharkbait likes to work through the nights. I swear he's nocturnal," said Quentin dryly. "He's loud about it, too."

I groaned. "You two realize I have to sleep in there!"

Nate quirked an eyebrow. "In the lab?"

"Back room."

"Oh. That's why Sully said I couldn't build my battle bot back there."

"Your what?" I asked.

"Battle bot. Like a fighting robot. Not a big one, but like, the size of a really small dog."

"That is the stupidest idea I've heard," I said blankly.

Nate made a face at me. "It'll catch on, you'll see."

I giggled. "In your dreams, Adams."

I sobered up as I faced forward towards the door of the lab. Inside, I could hear voices, indistinct, but one sounded loud and angry and the other was much quieter and feeble. I heard a crash and exchanged panicked looks with Quentin and Nate.

Before any of us said anything, Nate pushed between us and entered the lab, Quentin and I hot on his heels. Sully was getting up from the ground, his nose dribbling blood. Sharkbait had diverted his attention to us, his blue eyes cold with hate. They became even colder, if possible, when they landed on me. He sneered at us. "Well, well, well, looks like the morons found Little Miss Scientist." His voice was a bit slower and a tad slurred. Nate and Quentin hadn't been lying, of course. As we got closer to him, I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

The lab was a mess. A clear liquid had spilled all over one of the benches, presumably the one Sharkbait and Sully were working at, and they were avoiding it like the plague. One of the beakers was bubbling over and paper towels were haphazardly thrown between the two substances in an effort to keep them from touching each other. A Bunsen burner was left unattended, still aflame.

Quentin came to a sudden halt and grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop with him. I looked at him like he was crazy, but he shook his head and nodded at Nate. Nate was in control, then. I had a feeling this happened often.

Nate didn't even look at Sharkbait. "Sully?" Sully's head jerked up to meet Nate's eyes. His lab coat sleeve was pressed to his nose and he was wiping away blood as it poured from his nose, staining the white cloth a dark crimson. "Sully, are you alright?" He nodded anxiously. "What happened?"

"I'll tell ya what happened…" said Sharkbait slowly, walking towards Quentin and I, a bit unsteady on his feet. "Sullivan here, the little bitch, almost burnt off my skin! Knocked over a bottle of opened sulfuric acid!"

"And who left it open, Bateman?" asked Quentin calmly, his voice not betraying the way I could feel his hand shaking as he pushed my behind him, away from the inebriated doctor.

"Are you trying to insinuate it was my fault, Belfort?" snarled Bateman.

Before Quentin could respond, Nate had grabbed Bateman's shoulder and hauled him back away from us. Sharkbait shoved Nate away angrily. "Get your hands off of me!" Nate let Bateman push him away and looked at me. "Take Sully back to your room and check his nose. Quentin and I will take care of Bateman."

I nodded, not wanting to leave the boys alone, but also knowing that I would only get in the way if I stayed to help any longer. I walked around the lab bench, as far from Bateman as I could, and gently took Sully's arm as I reached him, leading him away from the mess.

"That's right!" I heard Bateman spit behind me, but I didn't turn around. "Get out of here! You don't belong in here, girly! You're nothing but a no-good, uneducated whore who wanted a ticket to be drooled over by soldiers and—" Bateman's voice instantly cut off and I could only hear his angry, muffled grunts. I set my jaw and ground my teeth, holding back my tears and all the words that threatened to tumble out of my mouth. As I gently pushed Sully inside my quarters, I turned around to see what had shut Sharkbait up.

What I saw nearly sent me into crazed laughter. Nate had Bateman's arms locked behind his back, holding him still. Quentin had taken off one of his shoes and socks. The sock was stuffed in Sharkbait's mouth. Nate was grinning at me. "Go on and take care of Sully, we got this."

"So I see," I said with a small grin and entered my room.

Sully was sitting on my bed, his head tilted backward, slowing the blood flow. His eyes met mine as I entered the room. " 'm sorry abou' tat," he managed to say. "I tripped an' 'ell. 'it me 'ose righ' offa tha' bench."

"Oh, Sully, sweetie, you and I both know that's absolute hogwash," I mumbled as I rifled through one of my suitcases with my essentials, trying to find an old towel to stymie the bleeding. Once I found what I was looking for, I handed Sully the towel, who took it and pressed it to his nose. I helped him out of his bloodied lab coat and tossed it to the side. Sully had finally tilted his head back down and was looking at me. His eyes were red and his hair was slightly singed on the ends. "Colin," I said carefully, using his first name as I sat down beside him, "what actually happened?"

"I tol' 'ou. I tripped," he insisted. "I ca' be clumsy."

"Colin, I know you don't know me and I don't know you, really, but I don't think that's what happened," I said, wringing my hands. "Nate and Quentin think…they think…" I struggled to find the correct words, to ask if Bateman was hurting him. I didn't know him well enough for that! I felt like I was crossing a boundary, but if I didn't, it would keep happening. I took a breath. "Does Bateman hit you?"

Sully's eyes flashed and for a moment, I saw what he was truly feeling. The fear in his expression was real and it was there, pent up below the surface. It happened so fast, I questioned ever seeing it, because the next thing I knew, Colin was on his feet, looking at me like I was insane. " 'it me?!" he yelped. "You're crazy! Yeah, 'ou do barely kno' me. 'ou have no idea wha' is goin' on in this lab! 'ateman was righ'! 'ou 'ave no bus'ness in this lab or to make assumptions! Women 'on't belon' in ta lab!" He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it abruptly. Guilt spread across his features and he threw down the towel I'd given him, picked up his lab coat, pressing it back to his nose, and then left my room, slamming my door.

I looked down at my hands folded together and set my jaw. I suddenly wasn't hungry and didn't really have a desire to step foot out of my quarters again. The urge to curl up in a ball and sleep the rest of the day and night away was overwhelming, but I'd made a promise to Bucky.

When I thought about seeing him, I smiled a little bit. At least someone here thought I had a place in the lab. I pushed myself off of my bed and grabbed my coat, pulling it on. I took a deep breath. I was going to meet his friends and we were all going to have a nice dinner. There was the small thing of passing Bateman and Sully to get out of the lab, but I wasn't really worried. Nate and Quentin would be there and that gave me some type of assurance. Then there was the matter of finding my way to the mess hall, but I was sure I'd figure it out.

A sudden knock on my door broke me out of my thoughts. "Come in!"

The door opened a fraction and Quentin poked his head inside. "Nate is handling Bateman and Sully and asked me to bring him some dinner. Want me to walk you to the mess hall?" he asked quietly.

I smiled at the little man, relief flooding through me. "Yeah. Yeah, Quentin, that would be really nice."

He flushed a bit and nodded, opening my door wider. "Come on, then. It's six now. Your friend is going to think you left him out to dry."

"Can't have that, huh?" I asked with a small laugh.

"No," Quentin responded lightly, grinning back. "No we can't."