February 23, 1943 – The Laboratory, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin

After I'd finally collected my thoughts after my surprising talk with James, I turned and wrenched the door to the lab open, scurrying in quietly. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it a moment and took in the lab.

It was brightly lit, with an array of workbenches and tables spread across the open floor. Beakers and test tube racks littered the tabletops, along with a few Bunsen burners, an Erlenmeyer flask bubbling over, and a small, open flame, right on top of one of the wooden tables that was steadily burning a hole through the surface.

I was relieved to find that, yes, the interior was heated and it was significantly warmer inside. Shedding off my coat, I was about to yell to see if anyone was around when I heard muffled talking.

"A girl?"

"Well, uh, yessir, that's what Dr. Erskine said—"

"And she's the one that perfected the serum?"

"Um, yes, and—"

"Well, there must be some mistake, a woman couldn't possibly have figured out something so complex. She's probably not even qualified to be in this lab.

I raised an eyebrow and scowled. Of course one of them didn't think I could do my job. I knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"Uh, sir, I think you should know that—"

Two men came around the corner and I was able to match faces to voices instantly. One of the men was tall with blond hair that was graying around the edges only slightly. He had a goatee grown out and was incredibly attractive for someone his age, which I put around his mid forties. He was also the asshole who didn't think I was qualified to be in said lab.

"When is she arriving?"

Both men stopped upon seeing me.

"...Today," the other one said, swallowing roughly. He was thin and tall, with longish, curly dark hair and shifty eyes, and seemed to be maybe in his late twenties. He couldn't seem to hold still. Whether he was brushing his hair to the side or fixing his glasses, his hands were always moving. He had a beard, like the one of an outdoorsman: scruffy and unkempt. His voice shook slightly and his accent was foreign. I would have said British at my best guess. Upon seeing me, and the open flame catching his eye a moment later, he let out a yelp and stripped off his lab coat and began beating the table with it.

"I see." The blond man sized me up and sighed, seemingly defeated, all the while scowling at his partner.

"You must be Ms. Frost."

"Doctor," I instantly corrected, my voice icy. "Dr. Frost."

"...Right. Well, I'm afraid to announce that Dr. Erskine made some...miscalculations. We don't need you here, we're doing right fine on our own, so if you could just head back to New York and—"

"I'm not going anywhere. I was sent here to a job and I'm going to do it," I interrupted, glaring at the man. My gaze was unwavering and he seemed a bit unnerved by my insistence.

He cleared his throat. "And what, pray tell, what job is that?"

The lab had gotten suddenly quiet as the other man had put out the small fire. He was walking over to us, sliding on the jacket, which now had a large hole in it, surrounded by blackened threads. I swallowed and held out the files in my arms. "Profiles of soldiers. Twenty candidates hand-picked by Colonel Phillips who are at basic here at Camp McCoy. I'm to sort through them, see if any are worthy of Project Rebirth."

"So why do you need access to my lab?"

"To make adjustments. And it's not your lab, Doc," I added as I started inside, twirling around to look at the interior a bit closer. "It's the government's." And it's a mess, I silently added to myself. When I wasn't working, I had a feeling I'd be too busy cleaning up the place to worry about running into Bucky—James.

The other scientist—the European one—scurried over to me, away from the rude doctor, and started speaking so fast, I could barely keep up. "A couple soldiers came in last week and cleaned out one of the rooms where you'll be staying. There's a bed and dresser and trunk in there for all of your personal belongings, which were already delivered in from your car—"

I looked at him while he led me along to what presumably were my quarters. "My car?" I asked sharply.

"Yes, your car. A few of the privets brought all of your suitcases and handbags. That's alright, I presume?" He looked nervous, like I was about to start yelling at him. His eyes flickered to me, then back to the door ahead that we'd stopped in front of, and then back at me. I dropped my eyes to his hands subtly while he looked away. His thumbs were twiddling anxiously.

"Are...Are you alright?" I asked cautiously.

He jumped a fraction at the sound of my voice and then nodded furiously. "Oh yes, very fine, I'm excellent, actually. Just, uh, just a bit jumpy. It's medical."

"Right," I said, but I wasn't quite convinced. "I don't believe I caught your name?"

"Oh, yes, my name is Doctor Colin Smith. But, um, you can call me Sully. Everyone does. Except Dr. Bateman. It's my middle name. Uh, Sullivan, not Sully. But you get it." He stopped talking abruptly and stuck his hand out.

I smiled as I shook his hand. I liked the twitchy fellow, no matter how odd he might have been. "Doctor Adelyn Frost. But you can call me—"

"AJ," Sully supplied. Then he blushed and blundered on when he said my raised eyebrow. "I-I mean, that's what Dr. Erskine called you. That's it, right?"

"That's it," I affirmed. "And the other one...?"

Sully's jaw set as he looked back into the main lab area. The blond doctor was at one of the lab benches, leaning over a beaker, dumping the contents of a test tube inside. The instant the liquid collided with the other, the beaker began foaming and the blond doctor stumbling back as the substance spit out of the top. "That's Doctor Erik Bateman. He's the senior doctor here and treats the rest of us like complete idiots. He seems to think everyone who works here except for him is mentally impaired. The other two who work with us are just assistants, but they're as smart as you or I. They just got the short end of the stick. Nathaniel Adams and Quentin Belfort. They're at the mess hall getting breakfast. You'll meet them soon enough."

I nodded. "So you're saying steer clear of Dr. Bateman?"

Sully nodded his affirmative. "For as long as you can."

"Noted," I said and gestured to the door. "So, this where I'm staying?"

"Erm, yeah, let me show you in." Sully grasped the door handle and swung open the door. Inside was nicer than I expected. The floor was carpeted and my bed was off to the side. A trunk sat at the foot, open. My dresser was on the other side of the room and between was a desk with a mirror and a stool. In the middle of the room sat all of my suitcases and bags, ready to be unpacked. "I know it's small, but—"

"It's perfect," I said with a smile, looking at Sully. If I didn't know any better, Sully seemed to blush a bit.

"So, uh, I have work to do on Bateman's orders, but if you need anything, I'll be in the main lab area. Are you interviewing today?"

I shook my head. "No, I think I'll get a feel for the place first. Find my way around, do some reading."

Sully nodded along with me. "Seems like a good plan. It's kind of a lot to take in at first, so it'll be nice to get settled."

"SMITH! Get out here!" Bateman's voice echoed from the main lab.

Sully winced. "I better get going before Bateman has a heart attack. I'll see you around then, AJ."

"Yeah," I said, smiling softly. "See you around."

Sully tucked his hands in his lab coat and turned around, jogging off to the main lab. He nearly tripped not once, but twice, and for the sake of his ego, I pretended not to notice when he turned around to see if I'd seen.

I dropped off the files on my desktop and opened one of my suitcases, which was full of books. I had everything from Lewis Carroll to Jack London to Oscar Wilde packed inside, ready for a boring month of interviewing and being ogled by soldiers. I rifled around inside until I found what I was looking for. My old, battered copy of A Study in Scarlet, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. My dad had given it to be when I turned ten and it was the first time I became remotely interested in reading. The copy was worn down, pages yellowed and dog-eared, and the cover was falling apart, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I shut the door to my little studio and made my way towards the front door when a voice stopped me. "Frost!"

I tightened my jaw and turned around to face Dr. Bateman. Sully stood a few feet behind him, looking at me sadly. I'm sorry, he mouthed. I offered him a little shrug before looking at Bateman. "Yes, Doctor?"

He approached me slowly, his hands behind his back. "I want to make something clear to you, Frost. You do not touch my lab equipment without special permission. In fact, I don't even want to see you anywhere near the lab benches. There is no reason you should be working here with us, nor should you be, period. Women aren't qualified for science. It's just the way things are. Erskine's an optimistic guy. His hopes for this serum, and you for that matter, are way too high. One confused old man can't change the world, or the tide of the war, like he thinks he can, much less a woman. The only way we're going to take out the Axis is with proven science work, like Smith and I do. Not the rubbish you and Erskine think you're accomplishing. Do I make myself clear?"

I felt like I'd been sucker punched. Sure, I was used to verbal abuse when I came from my field of work, but it was never as outright as it had been right then. I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes and I nodded furiously, turning away and rushing to the front door.

"I didn't hear you!" snapped Bateman.

I turned around angrily, looking at the blond man, who had a large smirk on his face with one hand cupped around his ear.

"Crystal," I hissed before turning back and leaving the lab, slamming the door with enough force to shake the entire structure.

_

That Same Day...

I lost track of time quickly.

After storming out of the lab with my book clutched tightly in one hand, I made a mad dash out of the main hub of the camp. I wasn't really sure where I was headed, but it was far, far from Doctor Erik Bateman.

By the time I found where I wanted to be, hot tears were rushing down my cheeks. I collapsed under a tree, just past the barracks. I wiped my eyes quickly, drying the face, and cracked open Doyle's first masterpiece, determined to read my troubles away.

And that's how I lost track of time.

The day got warmer as the hours went on. I read each page slowly, not wanting to have to return to the lab to get another novel, even though some of them got wet due to my crying. Luckily, though, I didn't have to go back. A figure settled in the grass next to me, but I didn't look up from my book. I didn't want to look up.

"You know," said a familiar voice, "You've been sittin' here for almost six hours."

I looked up to find James sitting there, an amused grin on his face. He leaned back against the tree trunk, one knee pulled to his chest, his arm draped over top. The moment I locked eyes with him, the smile erased from his face and he looked concerned. "What's wrong, Frosty? You look like you were cryin'."

I wiped my eyes again, but it didn't matter. They were dry, but probably red and puffy still. I sighed and tossed my book aside, leaning back against the tree with him. "Dr. Bateman's an asshole," I muttered.

James frowned and ran a hand through his messy hair, putting a few strands back into place (and displacing a few as well). "Bateman? The old blond guy?"

"Yeah," I sniffled.

"Why? What'd he say to ya?"

"He said the work that I was doing with Dr. Erskine was pointless and stupid. That it wouldn't change the tide of the war. It wouldn't change anything."

Bucky—James, dammit—tilted his head at me curiously. "That all he said?"

I sniffed and ground my teeth together. "He said I didn't belong in a lab. That I wasn't qualified to work with him."

"Well that jackwagon doesn't know what he's talkin' about then. You're one of the smartest gals I ever met," said James with a sharp nod.

I chuckled a bit and shook my head. "How do you know? You don't know the first thing about me."

"Well, I know you don't like me, which means you've definitely got a bright head on your shoulders. And I know that Steve likes ya which means you've got real character. And I know that if you weren't smart, you wouldn't have been picked for this program, which means you're real intelligent. Also I got a gut feeling, and usually my gut's right."

"That's a lot of faith in a girl you barely know," I managed through a watery smile.

"Yeah, well. Call it instinct, or whatever. I just know you're brilliant and you can probably do anything you put that pretty little head of yours to." James shrugged and grinned at me, his blue eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them.

I was pretty sure my heart stopped in that moment.

"Thank you," I said softly. "You aren't a bad guy, you know that? You just have questionable intentions, sometimes."

James mockingly gasped. "AJ! Are you actually starting to...dare I say it...like me?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Not on your life," I said and stood up, grabbing my novel.

"Hey, hey, not like that," grunted James as he struggled to catch up to me as I started walking away. "You know, as friends. I am capable of being friends with a girl, contrary to your belief."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm," James hummed.

"Great, dinner with me at six, then?" James looked at me sharply as I continued. "I don't have any friends here yet, if that's what we're gonna be. I'd like to get to know you more, James."

"Bucky," he said automatically. "I'll eat my dinner with you if you call me Bucky." He grinned at me and wiggled his eyebrows. "Deal?"

I sighed. "Fine."

"Fine...?"

"Fine, Bucky," I stressed. The handsome soldier smiled winningly at me and I cursed female hormones. No man should be that attractive. Not one. If I ever met his parents—you know, for...whatever reason—I wasn't sure if I would thank them or slap them.

"That's better. See, wasn't that hard, was it?" James—oh, I guess now he's Bucky—stuck his hands loosely in his pockets and walked back towards the main camp grounds with me. "So...what are ya gonna do then for the next three hours or so?"

I shrugged. "Get a feel for the camp. Maybe go to the mess hall and meet the other lab assistants. I dunno. Don't you have somewhere to be though, soldier?" I asked playfully.

Bucky groaned and avoided eye contact. "I mean, technically, yeah..."

I slapped his chest. "Go do you job then! I'm fine."

He looked at me skeptically. "You sure? You was cryin' earlier, and I'd never forgive myself if I left ya high and dry like that."

"Seriously, I'm fine James—"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at me with a smirk.

"—Bucky," I corrected. Bucky grinned and I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, but if you need anything, I'll be at the shooting range. Or, at least, that's where I'm s'posed to be. No guarantees, though."

"Shouldn't you, ya know, actually listen to your superiors while you're here?" I asked.

Bucky looked at me and winked, putting a finger to his lips. "Shhh."

We stopped at a crossroads. The shooting range was the opposite direction of the way I was going, and Bucky grinned at me lightly. "This is where I leave ya. So, mess hall at six, then?"

"Mess hall at six," I agreed.

"You mind if I bring a few men? Not the rude ones," he said quickly. "Just two of my friends. I told 'em about you. Said they wanna meet ya."

I was a bit surprised. I wasn't honestly sure if I wanted anyone else there. Bucky was so easy to talk to without anyone else around and I really didn't want to share him, in a friendly way, that was. Obviously. But I also figured anyone Bucky was friends with couldn't be that bad. After all, he was best friends with Steve Rogers back in Brooklyn, and I trusted Bucky's judgment. "Uh, yeah, sure. We can eat back under that tree. I do like it there."

Bucky's smile got even wider as he took a few steps backward in the direction of the shooting range.

"Sounds good. So, I'll see you in a few hours then?"

"Yeah, see you then," I said with a smile of my own. I started walking off when I heard:

"AJ!"

I looked over my shoulder. Bucky had stopped. "You and Erskine..." he said, his facial features tightly screwed together like he was thinking. "You are gonna change the tide of this war. That Bateman fella's just too damn stupid to see it. You can do anything you put your mind to, Jay. I believe that."

I felt my cheeks flush and it felt like it had gotten at least ten degrees warmer outside. "Thanks, Bucky," I said softly.

Bucky didn't say anything, but he smiled and started walking backwards again before turning around completely, his hands stuck lazily in his pockets.

I wanted to look away, I really did, but my eyes stayed glued to his back until I couldn't see him anymore, his words replaying themselves over and over again in my head. You can do anything you put your mind to, Jay. I believe that.