Arnold squinted down at his computer keyboard as he clacked out an email. The silly keyboards got smaller every time he asked Madeline to buy him a replacement – the keys didn't much appreciate his banging method of writing emails, and he seemed to break them faster than something so simple should be breakable.

To: M. Collum

Re: Captain America's Howling Commandos; Amended Exhibit

Mr. Collum,

Regarding our previous communication, when would be an opportune time to discuss updating the exhibit? I trust you've given my materials a good once-over and would agree that the Angel of Azzano deserves recognition within the exhibit.

As we were able to open the exhibit on a significant date for Captain Rogers - his birthday, July 4th - I would like to ensure that Lieutenant Shaw is recognized on November 17th. Please respond as soon as possible so I may begin putting materials into production.

Respectfully,

A. Abernathy
Museum Curator
Smithsonian Air and Space Museum

Arnold re-read his email to ensure he wasn't being too demanding before hitting 'send', and his computer made a satisfying whoosh noise to confirm it had been sent. Arnold spun in his desk chair to turn and admire his conspiracy-type pin-board. A melancholy-looking Alice Shaw stared off to her left. "What was your secret, my dear?" Arnold asked the old photo, half-wishing for an answer.

His computer dinged in reply and Arnold turned, squinting at his inbox.

To: A. Abernathy

Re: Captain America's Howling Commandos; Amended Exhibit

Production approved.

Good luck.

-Malcolm


Apr 22, 1944

Spring breathed a light hand over Northern Italy, following the Howling Commandos as they marched south once more. Steve was anxious about the effect of returning to Italy on his men, but they all seemed generally in good spirits; an impetus of victory appeared to be holding them aloft.

With days growing longer the Commandos were able to enjoy mealtimes with the sun up, and cooking fires could be larger, and heartier meals followed. Steve tried to make sure he was last to eat – his portions generally significantly larger, he never wanted to rob another soldier of his meal.

He was just sitting down to eat with a spoon halfway to his mouth when Nurse Potter caught his attention, holding a slip of paper nervously. "Captain Rogers," she said hesitantly. "Could I speak to you a moment?"

"Of course," he replied, inviting her to sit.

"Thank you," she sighed as she sat, smoothing the paper down. "Now that spring is coming, we need to discuss a resupply as soon as possible. Nurse Shaw has done an admirable job with ensuring that we didn't run out of supplies by supplementing with local plants, but-"

"Wait," Steve held up a hand. "We get airdrops all the time, and Nurse Shaw does what?"

"We don't get medical supplies with the airdrops. You didn't know?" Gloria made an amused face. "Nurse Shaw specializes in herbal medicine along with her… proclivity for trauma."

"And how critical are our supplies, exactly?" Steve asked.

Gloria made a wobbly motion with her hand that seemed inherited from the other nurse. "We've got another two months as long as we don't take substantial damage, and then she can restock with local flora."

"And what if we don't use weeds from the woods?" Steve asked, trying to keep the question inoffensive.

"Captain," Gloria's tone was light but had a note of warning. "If Alice didn't supplement our supplies we would have run out two months ago."

"Two-?" Steve choked a little on his coffee.

"Two months ago," Nurse Potter repeated, standing from the table and sliding her paper across to him. "Please see that those supplies make it into the supply order."

"Yes ma'am," Steve agreed, folding the paper with barely a glance and tucking it in his breast pocket.

Steve walked through the day mulling over his conversation with the nurse, trying and failing to focus on the maps and plans set before him and deferring decisions whenever possible. He didn't dislike Nurse Shaw, but something about her just didn't sit right.

He caught glimpses of her through the day; checking on patients, and exchanging brief pleasantries with the men. More often than not she retrieved a handful of dried leaves from a small pack that sat flush to her lower back or produced roots and tubers from her pockets and handed them to apparently exceedingly grateful patients. They would get tucked under bandages, or steeped in hot water, or chewed plain.

Nurse Shaw seemed to realize he was watching her at some point, catching his eye and giving him an awkward smile and a nod. She was uncomfortable with the attention, and swiftly excused herself once a patient or a soldier tried to offer her something in return, or express gratitude beyond an enthusiastic 'thank you'.

"What did she give you?" Steve asked a Private after Alice had excused herself.

"Purple Nutsedge, Sir." He showed the Captain the root cutting with a grimace. "Tastes godawful but it keeps m' teeth from fallin' out."

He saw her stop by the mess tent an hour or so before chow, speaking with the cooks in happy chortles that often seemed out of place. More treats from her pockets were handed off. They tried to give her bread or chocolate, but she refused with a wave of her hand.

"Wild garlic and parsley," the cooks answered when he asked. "Helps beef up the stew and tastes damn good."

Steve had to admit, as he took his heaping helping of said stew at supper, that it was a fair sight tastier than plain beef and potato stew. Alice Shaw touched every aspect of the Howling Commandos with a veiled hand, contributing as quietly as possible. Steve couldn't decide if she was hiding something or just shy.

"What do you know about our supply chain?" he asked Bucky, who was seated at his side and enjoying his own bowl of stew.

"What do you wanna know?" Bucky asked, slurping from his spoon.

"When was the last time we got resupplied?" Steve asked.

Bucky breathed heavily, thoughtfully, raising his eyebrows. "Well… it's been a while. We get airdrops of ammo, potatoes, stuff like that – nothing good, but we do alright."

"What about medical supplies?" Steve asked, defining his focus.

"That's up to the nurses- you'd need to ask Alice or Gloria about that." Bucky craned his head over the crowd, spotting one. "Alice!" Bucky called her over with a wild wave of his hand.

"Buck, wait-" too late, Steve protested.

A flash of blonde hair cut through the crowd like a fish dodging rapids, making the rippling motion look both effortless and precise. The pretty nurse sat heavily across from them, her bowl clacking against the wood bench table. "Hey there, fellas," she greeted, setting a cap that had been tucked under her arm on the table.

"Haven't seen you around for a while, doll." Bucky oozed charm, leaning across the table.

The nurse shot him a surprisingly cold stare for warm amber eyes. "Have you been bleeding anywhere?"

Bucky's smile and charm faltered. "No…"

"Then that would be why." Her dark eyes released Bucky, and she looked up and over the sea of men's heads. "Do you think there's coffee? I've been up for hours and there's still so much left to be done."

"I'll get it!" Bucky was gone before Steve could stop him. Nurse Shaw sighed and shook her head at his enthusiasm, taking a few hesitant sips of hot stew. She held herself differently than Nurse Potter; a different angle of her jaw, a different turn when called. Most dames turned their head jaw-first – a way to avoid unnecessarily disturbing carefully-set curls - but Nurse Shaw turned eyes-first. It made her look tense; even as she smiled at soldiers who greeted her she appeared to be looking them over for hidden injuries, calculating losses and supplies and sleep. Of all the members of the camp, save for Steve with his super-human abilities, Nurse Shaw looked the most rested.

If the stories about her had been true – or just half-true – she should have been asleep on her feet anytime someone came calling. There should have been dark, smudgy marks under her makeup-free eyes, and a waxy complexion that powder would fail to cover, even if she had chosen to use it. Next to Nurse Potter – dark-haired, red-lipped – Nurse Shaw should have looked plain. Instead, she looked refreshed, alive, and untamed. Her poorly-curled hair caught the lightest of breezes as she turned her head. Her eyes moved to Steve as Bucky ran off to get coffee, returning his calculating gaze.

Steve did his best to avoid looking away. "So where are you from, Miss Shaw?"

"New York," she replied with a smile amused by some secret joke. "Saratoga Springs."

"I don't think that's really in New York," he teased lightly.

"Well forgive me forever for not growing up in Brooklyn." She laughed. "I recently moved to Maryland, anyway – so I suppose I'm not really from the Springs anymore."

"What's in Saratoga Springs, anyway? Trees? Some farmland?"

She smiled. "And horses."

"Oh, horses; I see, you've sold me on the superiority of the Springs to Brooklyn."

"I should certainly hope so." The twinkle in her eyes was definitely laughing at him.

She turned her head to observe the crowd, her curls catching the wind. He could see a pale scar that ran through her hair just behind her ear, heavily faded. A childhood accident, maybe? It couldn't be the scar from her incident in Austria – it was far too pale.

She looked out at the gathering of soldiers like a sheepdog might observe his flock – watchful, protective, and concerned. A wrinkle seemed to live between her brows as she watched Steve's unit. Steve cleared his throat, deciding to get around to the topic that had been nagging at him like a cold that wouldn't quit.

"Miss Shaw," he started, "why didn't you ask for a medicine resupply when our supplies started to run low? We have the full backing of both MI6 and the US Government – there was no need to pull plants from the forest."

Nurse Shaw's attention slowly returned to Steve, dragging through the crowd. "Captain Rogers, how long do you think it takes to make Penicillin?" All laughter was gone from her eyes.

Steve frowned. "How is this relevant? The army keeps huge numbers stockpiled-"

Nurse Shaw held up two fingers. "Two weeks. It takes two weeks to make Penicillin. Here's another question – how is Penicillin typically transported? I'll go ahead and answer that question for you – glass bottles. Here's a final question for you – what would be the safest method for a resupply while we're on the Axis side of the Front?"

This time she waited for him to answer. "Airdrop," he replied curtly.

Nurse Shaw nodded slowly. "How much confidence do you have in the ability of glass bottles to survive a shot-out parachute fall? How sure are you that we can get to the package on any given day; that we won't be fighting our way through an ambush; that we won't be retreating from the enemy; that MI6 and the good old US of A actually sends every single supply we ask for?"

Shaw stirred her stew idly with a spoon. "A normal resupply will come soon – we're close enough to the Allies now that they can send supplies by armored truck. Until it arrives and I ensure they sent everything we actually need, I'll continue collecting my little plants. I have no desire to risk thousands of valuable, hard to make doses that could go to other Divisions when I'm perfectly capable of keeping us all breathing"

"Ma'am," Steve leaned forward along the table, his jaw tight with conflict. "Is there a reason for your complete lack of faith in the two strongest countries in the world?"

Shaw laughed bitterly but arrested it quickly. "I don't have faith in countries or governments, Captain; they're run entirely by agenda and bad credit." She straightened as something over Steve's shoulder caught her eye, and a little of the light returned to her eyes. "I hold my faith in people."

Bucky slid into the bench next to Steve, two cups of coffee held in his hands. He slid one across the table towards Nurse Shaw. "Your coffee, doll – as sweet as you."

The nurse looked down into the cup and scowled. "This coffee is black, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky smirked. "Like I said…"

"I was going to give you one med-tent visit guilt-free for the favor, but-" she took a hefty swig of the black coffee, seeming not to mind the strong unsweetened taste after all.

"We both know that would be a lie," Bucky finished. The nurse laughed and nodded.

She downed the last of her coffee, and grabbed her cap from the table. "Stay safe, Gentlemen." She clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Stay salty, Buck."

Steve raised an eyebrow at the odd statement as Alice walked away, returning a few warm greetings with the men. "What does that mean?"

Bucky shrugged. "Hell if I know; she says a lot of weird stuff." His gaze followed the small nurse as she weaved through the crowd. "One hell of a dame, though."

Steve snorted. "She seems to be the first one immune to your charms."

"You sure about that?" Bucky waggled his eyebrows.

"Is she…" Steve searched for the right word, "dangerous?"

"Alice?" Bucky asked, laughing. "Oh, absolutely; but that depends on your definition of 'dangerous'."

"Buck," he dropped his voice. "When we were putting together a team, I was told that her paperwork isn't exactly… complete." The suspicion had been lingering in the back of his mind – not enough to act on it, but it didn't help that something about Alice Shaw set of a single warning light in his head. Her colloquialisms were just off enough to be odd, and she was hostile and defensive about her methods. From everything he had been told, Alice Shaw did not exist prior to her ship's arrival in London. That could be easily explained away with the common occurrence of missing paperwork, but with Alice… something just smelled off.

Bucky frowned. "What are you saying?"

Steve hesitated to say it, but it needed to be said. "How can you be sure she's not a spy? It's the kind of question we need to be prepared to answer if need be."

"Steve, C'mon," Bucky rolled his eyes. "She's saved my life at least twice, and Dugan's, and Falsworth's. She made sure most of us survived that Factory in Austria. If Alice Shaw is a spy then I'm a Hawaiian Hula Girl. And anyway," Bucky squinted, "I thought you were all grateful that she was helping me?"

"So it is because of Alice," Steve pried.

"Oh for the love of Pete!" Bucky yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation.


Dum Dum chuckled as he watched the two old friends arguing at the table. He could hear – damn, half the men could hear – that from Bucky's particular note of frustration it had to be about Alice. If Dum Dum had wanted to intervene, he would have told Steve not to bother Buck so much about the funny girl. He would have told Steve that his frustrations were nothing compared to when Alice was a prisoner, hidden away in the dark. The looks they shared were nothing compared to the way Bucky had grabbed for her as she slipped between his fingers.

But Dum Dum didn't need to intervene again. He had done his part in ensuring that Alice would be nearby and no one needed to lose half their brain from worry. Now that they had no real way to get away from each other – intentional or otherwise – Dum Dum rather enjoyed playing with their heads a little.

The previous night was a delightful example.

Dum Dum was on watch – a rare shift just to spread the misery around – when he passed a fire burning low at the edge of the camp. He took a double take as a familiar voice drifted past, finding two familiar figures huddled around it, wrapped in separate blankets to fight off the lingering Spring chill. Don't those two ever sleep?

Alice tilted her head as she laughed, playing a little with something that glittered in the light around her neck. She scrunched her nose and said something Dum Dum couldn't hear. Bucky shook his head and made an exaggerated shape with his mouth, which Alice replicated, speaking a little louder. "Infirmière," she said. Bucky nodded, beaming proudly.

"Hey kiddos," he said loudly as he approached. Alice smiled and returned the greeting, but Bucky looked less than pleased. Should have already made your move then, Buck. Dum Dum sat down next to Alice, taking off his bowler hat and setting it in his lap. "How'ya been, L.T.?"

She wobbled her hand a little. "It helps that it's getting warmer."

Dum Dum couldn't agree more as he warmed his hands around the fire. "I'm glad you're joining us for meals again," he added.

"I heard I was missed," Alice replied with a tender smile.

"I know I missed having a pair of hands around to poke at my flaws," Dum Dum chortled, bracing his arms on his knees in just the right way to flash a healing bruise in Alice's direction. Without fail, her eyes honed in on it faster than a fly finds shit.

"Dum Dum," she warned. "Have you been taking care of yourself?"

"Me? Now, why would I avoid my favorite witch doctor?" He replied, looking dramatically hurt.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Come on, Sassafras; let's get that arm looked at." Dum Dum dutifully followed the smaller woman, smiling at the sensation of angry daggers stabbing into his back, propelled from Bucky's eyes.

Oh yes, Dum Dum had enjoyed it greatly. Part of him hoped that pulling them apart in little ways like that might make them cling more forcefully together. Not that he wanted to find them going at it in the bushes, but maybe some sort of recognition that they needed each other.

Dum Dum remembered seeing young married ladies gazing at their fellas like that as they marched off to war. He remembered catching his Ma looking at his father like that on the rare occasion that she didn't feel the urge to throw a pan. He remembered his little sister – who Alice so boldly resembled – making that inimitable expression as she walked down the aisle to his not-half-bad brother-in-law who'd gone and gotten himself blown up not much later.

There was nothing he could do to force the two idiots to realize the opposite idiot felt the same. He was all but certain Alice understood what was happening, but couldn't for the life of him explain why she hadn't done anything about it.

Dum Dum had tried asking her about it once. Alice had – in this order – turned red, scoffed, and pressed down hard on Dum Dum's bandage while muttering something about his 'overactive imagination', turned redder, and scoffed again.

Damn fools, the lot of you. A damn fool was Alice. A Damn fool was Bucky. A Damn fool was Steve, who just couldn't let it go. Dum Dum groaned internally as he stopped in his tracks – halting his avoidance of the argument. He couldn't just walk by, he would need to intervene. If Steve pressed too hard, Bucky might recoil from Alice, and that just wouldn't do.

"You'd think they'd keep the coffee in better supply – especially for those of us with the night watch," Dugan said loudly, rapping his knuckles against his empty tin as he approached the Captain and his friend.

It drew Rogers' attention away from Bucky as he commented on the coffee, adding his own commentary on flavor and availability. Dum Dum hazarded a glance at Bucky, and the knot of concern loosened in his chest. Bucky was staring out into the crowd, following the retreat of a head of blonde hair moving at a measured pace through the gaggle of soldiers.

Dum Dum's mustache hid his brief smirk.

Success.


A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! (Just barely made this chapter's deadline – whew!)

So Alice has started to slip, exchanging her learned terminology for more modern slang. It's nothing truly obvious, but the careful observer might find it odd (like Steve). I had some conflict writing Steve's perspective, because as much as I wanted them to get along great I needed to recognize that much of what she does is insanely weird.

Also, the last part here with Dum Dum is just in my outline as "Dum Dum Interruptus".

Next Chapter due on or before: January 9.

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