February 23, 1943 – Camp McCoy, Wisconsin
It was cold.
If one thing and only one thing could be said about Wisconsin in February, it's that it was cold. The snow was pretty much gone at Camp McCoy, but it was still only pushing about forty degrees. Yet, around me, men walked around in nothing but their white T-shirts and slacks with their kelly green over shirts tied around their waists. I'd gotten my fair share of looks as I got out of my car, as well as a few catcalls. It was nothing if not annoying. The other annoying thing seemed to be that I couldn't find where I was supposed to be going for the life of me.
All the buildings looked the same: big, plain, and towering. I couldn't tell the barracks from the mess hall from the munitions stockpile. The frozen dirt crunched under my feet as I made my way into the hub of the camp. I kept my papers and lab work clutched tightly to my chest while men stood around me, staring. Whispers filled the air. I knew I was the first woman they'd seen in the past two months or so, but this was a bit ridiculous.
A jeep drove past me, a drill sergeant sitting in the back; barking orders. A unit of men jogged closely behind, panting like dogs. It was barely eight in the morning. There was no telling how long the men had been up and at it.
I was slightly irritated that neither Colonel Phillips nor Howard seemed to think it was a good idea to, I don't know, at least give me a way to navigate the freaking camp, but there was no use dwelling on it.
The sooner I got to lab area waiting for me, the better. At least it would be heated. I hoped it would be heated.
"Hey there, dollface!"
My jaw clenched at the slang and I kept walking, head held high. This was not going to be my day. I could already feel it.
"'Ey, don't you know when someone's talkin' to ya that it's polite to respond?"
"Ignore them, Jay, just keep walking," I muttered halfheartedly to myself.
Clearly that wasn't about to work out.
Two men flanked either side of me and one stood in front, slowing my purposeful stride to a halt. The boys to my sides were just that: boys, no more than nineteen or twenty. Twins, by the looks of it. Same messy brown hair, same mischievous dark eyes. One of them, the one to my right had a scar on his left eyebrow, off to the corner. The man in front of me was older, late twenties I'd say, with carefully crafted dirty blond hair and roving green eyes that made me decidedly uncomfortable. His well-defined features were handsome, but cruel at the same time at I didn't like the way he was looking at me one bit. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips, rings of smoke puffing towards me with every exhale.
"I was talkin' to ya just now, darlin'," he said, his southern drawl very well pronounced. "Didn't your mama e'er teach ya some manners? It's polite ta respond when someone is speakin' to ya."
"I'm sorry," I managed, trying to sound as sweet as I could without laying it on too thick. Howard had told me that if I just played along they'd leave me alone. Looking at them now, in the eye, I wasn't so sure. "It's just I really have to get to the lab to meet with Drs. Smith and Bateman. Important research."
"Research, eh? What the 'ell you doin' research on? The most effect dishwasher? Which bread is the best for sammichs? Because, uh, that's what you should be researching, not nothin' that has to do with the army. You need ta leave the fighting ta us men, sweetheart."
I suppressed an eye roll, but one of my eyebrows rose without my permission. Beyond the three men surrounding me, other soldiers watched us with mild interest. Not one of them made a move to help me.
The man continued as he looked at his buddies. "And, uh...if you don't wanna research that...I got somethin' else you may wanna take a look 'n see at," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. His left hand slapped his belt buckle and I swallowed roughly. His companions laughed. I did not. This was not going well. Not at all.
"Name's Rogers. Geoffrey Rogers. An' them two knuckleheads are Williamses."
I could barely hold back my bitter laughter. The fact that this man shared a last name with Steve seemed like a cruel joke. "Right. Well, if you kind men will excuse me, then I must be on my way," I said, trying to push past the sandy haired man.
His hand caught my forearm, sending me skidding to a halt and squeezing tighter than I would have imagined. He pulled me into his chest, cigarette smoke drifting across my face with each word, making my eyes water profusely. "Now, now, dollface, we was jus' getting' started." He smiled at me, but it was a dangerous smile.
I gulped. I should have stayed in Brooklyn. Stayed in Brooklyn where it was safe with Steve and Lydia and Jane and my family. Stayed with Howard and the good Dr. Erskine. But no, I had to be the one to find a recruit for the project. I'd have to have a word with Colonel Phillips when I got the chance. Provided I'd have a chance.
"Hey! Leave her alone!"
Geoffrey's grip on my arm loosened just a fraction as he looked to my rescuer. I couldn't see whoever was coming to help me, but his voice was painfully familiar, but I couldn't place it for the life of me.
"Oh yeah? An' jus' what's gunna happen if I don't?"
"This." I heard footsteps and then a dark-haired figure came into view as his fist connected with the Geoffrey's face. His grip on my arm fell slack as he tumbled to the gravel below. The twins on my sides instantly backed off, helping up Geoffrey. My attacker was cradling a bloody nose that was twisted at an awkward angle, obviously broken. The cigarette had tumbled out of his lips and was a few feet away, still smoking. Geoffrey Rogers said a few choice words before being hauled off by his companions.
I turned away from them as they walked off in the opposite direction. My heart was still racing and my forearm was throbbing where Geoffrey had a hold on me. I glanced at my arm. A handprint was wrapped around it, red and sore. I bruised quite easily and I was sure that was going to leave a nasty one.
I looked up to thank my savior, but his back was facing me. There was something familiar about his tall profile, but still, I couldn't place it. He was wringing his right hand and kissing his knuckles. He'd punched the man hard enough to break his nose, of course he'd have to pay the price of a bruised hand for that.
"I just wanted to say thank you—" I started as the man turned around.
"It's no big deal—" he had began, but we both stopped.
I found myself staring into those pale, icy blue eyes for a third time. His floppy brown hair was in desperate need of a trim, hanging down on his forehead and covering the tips of his ears. He was wearing the standard issue kelly green pants and white T-shirt, but instead of his shirt around his waist, he wore it, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Stubble had grown out on his defined jawline and his voice was a tad scratchier than I was used to, but before me stood none other than James Barnes.
His voice caught when he saw me and his head cocked slightly. "AJ?"
"James?" I managed, even though my throat had effectively closed. Oh, Steve was going to get a kick out of this.
"It's-it's Bucky," he said. "Everyone calls me Bucky."
"Well, I'm not everyone," I said, regaining my composure. I stood up a bit straighter, my jaw set. I was not going to let the presence of James Barnes ruin my objective here.
"No, you certainly are not," James murmured, his eyes traveling me over once. It had been creepy when Geoffrey had done it, but I felt my neck flush while James did. "You, uh, you look great," he continued.
"And I'm not just saying that 'cause you're the first girl I've seen in a few months." James stuck one of his hands casually in his pockets while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. I pretended not to notice the way his white shirt rode up a bit on his waistline, exposing a fair bit of skin.
"T-Thanks," I muttered, my voice hitching a tad as I struggled to keep my eyes glued to his.
Lord have mercy, I thought as I swallowed, my throat and mouth unusually dry, Think about Frank. Frank, who asked you to wait for him. Frank, who Daddy gave you permission to marry. Sweet, kind hearted Frank Jackson.
But thinking about sweet, kind hearted Frank Jackson could only get me so far when a scruffy James Barnes stood before, possibly looking more attractive than the last two times I'd seen him combined.
Snap out of it, Frost. Just because he saved you from the ass does not mean he's your knight in shining armor. He's cocksure. He's arrogant. He's a soldier. Get over yourself.
An awkward silence had fallen between us. The tension was so thick, I could have cut it with a knife.
Thankfully, James broke the silence. "How's Steve?"
"Steve? Oh, Steve's great. He can get through a conversation without stuttering or calling me a beautiful dame, so I'd say things are looking up."
James laughed at that and shook his head. "Sure sounds like Steve. Say, didn't I ask you to keep an eye on him? So what brings you all the way out here, Frosty?"
"First of all, don't call me that. Second of all, don't worry, I left Steve in good hands. Third of all, it's a, uh, project I'm working on. With Colonel Chester Phillips."
Bucky's—James's, I corrected myself—nose wrinkled up. "That old guy? The one who formed that new unit thinger? What was it called...the...something with science..."
"The Strategic Scientific Reserve," I supplied. "The SSR."
James snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that. You're with them?"
"I'm more of a consultant for the time being, but yeah, you could say that."
"So, then what the heck you doin' out here in Podunk, Wisconsin?"
I couldn't help but smile as I thought of Jane back home, reclining in her comfy chair in the comfort of her apartment in Brooklyn. She'd be scandalized if she'd seen me right then, with James Barnes of all people. I couldn't resist. "'Podunk?'" I asked playfully. "Let me guess: city boy, born and raised?"
James smirked and shrugged as he rocked back and forth on his heels, just like Steve did when he was nervous. "Yeah, something like that."
I snickered a tad and shook my head. "Well, I'm here on SSR business. The good colonel and the rest of us with the reserve believe we have something that has the potential to change the tide of this war. I'm here to see that through."
James whistled. "Well, that's somethin' then. Where ya headed?"
"The lab. I believe it's also coupled with my bunk, but of course, I can't tell the mess hall from...well, anything."
"Lab's on the far side of the camp," said James, nodding his head the opposite direction in which I was heading. "Past the barracks and the medical tent. I could, uh, show you there, if ya like, seeing as you were headed in the complete wrong direction." James gave me a sort of smirk coupled with an eyebrow raise.
I scowled, but it was more playful than anything, which I hated. I didn't want to. No, I didn't one bit. I didn't like it, it was a terrible idea, but I was also terrible with directions. There was no way I'd make it to the lab without some assistance, and James certainly seemed like the only one around to give it to me. That was a pretense I absolutely despised. I was hopelessly lost without the help of James Barnes. The idea made want to hurl.
You're being hard on him, said a small voice in the back of my head. He's just trying to help. Besides, he hasn't really said anything remotely flirtatious yet.
I realized with a start that that incessant little voice in the back of my head was right. James somehow seemed...different than the past two times I'd seen him. It seemed like he'd sobered up in the arrogance department. Being surrounded by nothing but testosterone must've really been a shock to him. I was kinda surprised that he wasn't throwing everything he had at me right then. On the other hand, after what had just transpired, he probably figured that'd scare me away. And it would have.
I smiled at James tentatively. "Yeah. Yeah, uh, that'd be great. Thank you, James."
The hand rubbing his neck dropped and I could finally breathe again as his shirt covered his midriff. His trademark lopsided grin appeared on his face like magic, erasing all evidence of his previously nervous nature and his hands were lazily stuck into his pockets. He did a complete one-eighty. It was like he was that draftee in that recruitment center once more, cocksure and ready. But the act was off. It was different. He was different. "Great! Right this way, Frosty."
"Quit callin' me that!" I hissed again as we began walking, James a half step in front of me.
James looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. "I'll stop callin' you that as soon as you start callin' me 'Bucky'."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "That's not fair."
James laughed and shrugged. "I got drafted, Steve's an eighty pound asthmatic, you're stuck here with a bunch of testosterone fueled soldiers...life ain't fair, AJ."
"Fair point," I muttered. "But I don't have to like it."
The rest of the walk to the lab was silent, though not particularly uncomfortable. I know I had a lot on my mind and James seemed to as well. After what felt like forever, James stopped and I skidded to a halt beside him at another plain looking building, just like the rest.
"Well, this is it," said James as he began to rock on his heels again. His lopsided grin was still in place, but it was a little unsure too. "Thanks for letting me walk you. You're a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else around here." He wrinkled his nose. "And I mean that figuratively and literally. I mean seriously, some of these guys need to make their way to a shower, no matter how cold the water."
I found myself laughing and James's eyes seemed to light up as he grinned right along with me.
"Let me know how it goes, okay? Hopefully we'll see each other 'round, Frosty. I wasn't kiddin' when I said we'd make a good pair. Of friends, that is," he added hastily.
"Yeah," I found myself saying to my own surprise. "Yeah, I will. And I should be thanking you for walking me. I'd rather not risk my chances of running into another Geoffrey. Or getting lost."
"Yeah, well. Geoff's an ass, but he's all talk. If he ever tries anything, or anyone does, ya just holler, okay? I'm only a call for help away. This ain't gonna be no walk in the park for you. And uh..." A light smile, not a smirk like I was used to, but a genuine smile played on his lips. "You didn't correct me on the 'Frosty' thing that time."
I felt my ears heat up and I shook my head. "Whatever, James. But seriously, thank you."
"Yeah," said James nodding, suddenly solemn. "Yeah, sure. Well, uh, I better get goin'. See you around then?"
"Sure," I said. "I'll see you around."
James smiled and I smiled back and turned to go when I heard, "Oh, and Frosty!" I didn't turn around and heard a disgruntled sigh of annoyance. "Fine. AJ?"
I turned and smirked at him. "Yes, James?"
"Steve...you're sure he's alright? You mean, you really left him with some good people. At least someone's lookin' out for him, right?"
My smirk turned into a soft smile and I nodded. "Yeah. Don't you worry about Steve. He's just fine."
Relief seemed to fill James and his posture sort of relaxed as a peaceful smile spread across his face.
"Thanks, AJ. You know, for keeping an eye on him."
"It was my pleasure, James. He's a nice guy and he's lucky to have a friend like you."
Curiosity filled James's expression. "You mean that?"
"I do," I said sincerely.
"And here I thought you hated me," said James, his lazy grin returning. "Of course you don't, how can anyone hate this face, am I right?"
I rolled my eyes and blew out a breath, fighting the amused smile threatening to break out on my face. "Oh, you're something alright, James Barnes. Don't push your luck."
James laughed. "Right, right, I'm sorry. I do have to go though, so I'll talk to ya later Frosty!"
"Bye, James," I said, lifting my hand in a wave.
James turned and walked off, his hand raised in the air, returning the gesture. I leaned against the door to the lab, exhaling loudly. Yeah. This was going to be a longer month than I'd expected.
