Days at the camp flew by. They didn't necessarily go fast or slow, but time just seemed to add up more and more, and before I knew it, twelve days had gone by. I'd written and sent five letters at the end of the first week. One for Steve, one for Lydia, one for Jane, one for Howard, and one for Sam, who would show it to the rest of the family when he got the chance. I missed my friends and family a lot, including Howard Stark, which I never thought that I'd say.
I interviewed the soldiers one by one, assessing them as I'd seen fit. So far, though, not one was perfect for Project Rebirth. Sure, a few of them were decent candidates, but none of them had shown any true potential yet.
I hadn't seen Bucky since dinner under the tree. I saw Russel often, but they were usually busy. They'd stop to say hi, but it was never for too long. They were hardworking soldiers, and I wasn't surprised to see both of them on my candidate list for one of my future interviews. When I asked either of them about Bucky, they usually just shrugged and admitted to rarely seeing him as well, which kind of calmed my nerves. I had started to assume that he was avoiding me. Anthony had just smirked when I suggested that and assured me that that wasn't the case.
The only part of my day that tended to drag were the soldier interviews. They were long and boring with fifty in-depth questions. It was my job to assess their responses and score them, as well as include any side notes on every single question. It got tiring, honestly. A girl can only score so many standardized tests before going insane. It didn't help that Sharkbait was constantly watching me, making sure I didn't screw anything up. It was ridiculous, but I felt as if he almost had eyes everywhere. When he wasn't around, I was almost positive that Sully was reporting to him on me.
Ever since the incident with the bloody nose, Sully avoided me. He was perfectly fine around Quentin and Nate, but anytime I tried to say a word, or even looked at him, he preoccupied himself. His typical response was 'I'm busy' or 'Don't you have work to do'? I'd pulled Nate aside to talk to him about it, and he'd frowned grimly.
"That only makes matters worse," he'd said. "That means we're probably right. And in situations like these, I hate being right."
Yeah. I hated being right too.
But all in all, Nate and Quentin never failed to brighten my day, but even so, it was Nate more than Quentin. Quentin could be shy at times, so it could be hard to start a conversation and get him to open up. It seemed that way for everyone, even Nate. So naturally, most of my free time was spent with Nate, and Quentin tended to do all the busy work to avoid Bateman's wrath. We took walks and when we ate meals together, Quentin usually joined us. Nate accompanied me in the lab so I'd never be caught alone with Sharkbait. More often than not, Bateman spent all his time in the lab. It made it nearly impossible to test the serum and make sure everything was in order. I was thankful Nate was willing to spend so much time with me attached to his hip.
On the other hand, there hadn't been another incident with Sully since the initial one. He hadn't laid a hand on anyone, so far. Of course, part of me knew it couldn't last. Bateman wasn't going to be on his best behavior for long. Or, his non-violent behavior. And, of course, I was right.
And in situations like these, I hated being right.
_
March 5, 1943 – The Lab, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin
The letter was a surprise. It was delivered to my door just after lunch. Nate and I had walked the campus for the umpteenth time, talking in circles and just all around enjoying each other's company. He was an easy guy to get along with. I felt like I could just be myself and be relaxed. With Frank, I was always trying to look happy. To play the role of a happy girlfriend. If I didn't look happy, people would wonder, and when people wonder, bad things would happen. At least, that's how I saw it. And with Bucky, I just felt...I felt so exposed. Like if I talked too much, I'd give away the secrets of my inner soul. I knew that was stupid, but with his piercing blue eyes, it seemed like James could see right through me.
With Nate, it was easy. He knew where we stood, and that we were going to be friends, and he was perfectly fine with that, after I'd initially turned him down. He was laidback and could practically read my mind. We often talked about nothing and everything at the same, jumping subjects like frogs on a lily pad. Sometimes we talked about Frank, sometimes I teased him about how he and Lydia would be absolutely fantastic together. Sometimes we could go from one of those topics to discussing the discovery of plutonium and somehow not miss a beat. I learned so much about him, like the fact that he and Quentin had originally gone to medical school before being drafted and planned on signing on to be field doctors as soon as their work at McCoy was done, and when he had a question about me, I'd answer it. It never got to be too personal with Nate. I could talk with him about anything. Even though we'd only really known each other for a week, I felt like I'd known him for years.
So, right. The letter. Nate and I were relaxing in my room with the door cracked, discussing the perfect wedding. I wasn't sure how we'd arrived to such a girly and mainstream topic, but Nathaniel certainly was involved in the conversation, which was as hilarious as it sounded.
"Tiger lilies?" I deadpanned, my face as straight as I could keep it.
Nate looked at me like I'd sprouted a third eye. "Yes, tiger lilies! What's so hard to understand about that?!" I couldn't help it. I cracked up laughed, and Nate's eyes rounded, looking incredulous. "What?!" he demanded.
"They're...Nate, they're orange. They won't match with anything!"
Nate blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Well, then...then they can be at the reception! They're going to be somewhere at my wedding, mark my words, Adelyn Juliet!"
I rolled my eyes and grinned fondly at the dark-haired man reclining in the chair opposite of my bed. He was scowling at me good-naturedly, but I could see the spark of amusement in his bright blue eyes.
"So are you telling me you've planned out your ideal wedding, Nathaniel Theodore?"
Nate scoffed. "No. Just...a lot of it."
"Ya know," I drawled, kicking my legs on the side of my bed with a droll smile, "girls do that too. And when the time comes...your fiancée with most likely kick your butt if you mess up her dream wedding."
"Guys can have dreams, too!" Nate protested.
"Normal guys don't plan their ideal wedding!"
"I'm not a normal guy!"
I laughed. "No you are not, Nathaniel Adams. No you are not."
"I bet Quentin has his flowers picked out," Nate muttered. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "I just...ya know, not even Quentin knows I have this kind of stuff planned out." Nate adjusted himself, bracing his elbows on his knees and locking his fingers together. "I mean, you're right. Planning a wedding, showing feelings...I don't get to do that with a lot of my male friends. You'd think Quentin would be different, but he just wants to be accepted, so he acts like one of the guys. So...I mean, what I'm trying to say is, it's a relief to have you here, AJ. I'm glad I can talk to you."
I smiled softly at Nate, my chest swelling with warmth. "Thanks, Nate," I said. "I'm glad I have you too." There was a small stretch of silence between us before I asked, "So you want to get settled down then?"
Nate nodded eagerly. "After this war blows ever, I'm going to put my dreams into action." He held his hands out, making a small little picture frame. "I can see it now. A cute little house just outside of Pittsburgh, with a big yard and basketball hoop. Two or three kiddos. And a dog. A husky." A dreamy look had spread across Nate's face and I could see that he was far, far away from Wisconsin.
"Pittsburgh?" I asked quietly.
"Where I'm from," he clarified, his eyes refocusing on me. "Well, the inner city, anyway. My dad, me, and my little sister. Mom left us after there were some...issues with her third pregnancy. She had a miscarriage. She and the baby...they didn't make it."
"I'd say I'm sorry, but are the words really going to have any impact?" I asked.
"Not really," Nate admitted. "But I'm so used to hearing it and seeing the pitied looks. I'm just glad you're a different kind of person, Adelyn Juliet."
"Well, it takes one to know one Nathaniel Theodore," I replied with a small smile.
"Yeah," he said smiling back. "I suppose it does. Ya know, when my mom was still alive, my dad was so happy. And finding out she was supposed to have another child...I've never seen his eyes light up like that. He hasn't been himself since...and...I mean, they were epitome of this perfect marriage. Well, not perfect," he added, "but damn close. They had their ups and downs, but that's what made them love each other more. Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted that. That kind of happiness. I've always wanted to show my dad so maybe he can be okay again. And I guess that's why I've planned so much of this out. I want it to be as perfect as perfect can get. He was always so excited about grandkids...I hope I can give him some and maybe, just maybe, he'll see that things aren't so bad and that Mom's in a better place." Nate took a breath and flushed, his cheeks bright red in the dim light of my quarters. "But I'm just a hopeless romantic."
I shook my head, and my cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard. "Nate, that's one of the most thoughtful and adorable things I've ever heard. You're going to make an amazing husband to a very lucky girl."
Nate's face lit up. "You think so?"
"I know so," I responded slyly.
Just then, there was a knock at my door, pushing it open a tad. "Special delivery?"
I recognized the voice instantly. It was Quentin. "Come on in!" I called.
The door pushed open and Quentin smiled timidly at Nate and I. In his fist, he was clutching what looked like an envelope. He leaned against the doorframe, his other hand in his pocket. "I figured you two would be in here. What was all the talk about?"
Before I could say anything, Nate pointed a finger at Quentin. "Q, at your wedding, do you have a specific type of flower you want? Given it any thought? At all?"
Quentin looked a bit stunned initially, confusion written across his face. Then, the confusion melted into a goofy grin. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He stuck his tongue out, and I recognized this moment as one of the rare times Quentin felt truly comfortable in a social situation. He wasn't often, and it was almost an honor to know that he felt easy around me.
He held out his hand to me, the hand with the envelope. "Special delivery for one Adelyn Frost."
"Me?" I asked.
Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want me to give your love note to Romeo over there," he deadpanned.
"Love note?!" I squeaked.
Quentin just grinned. "Addressed from the frontlines."
I was stunned for only a moment. "...Frank?"
"I'd assume so."
Relief came crashing through me as I took the envelope and pulled it back quickly, not realizing my hand had been quivering. I hadn't realized the amount of worry that had been eating at me as each day passed, not knowing how he was. It felt like an elephant that had been standing on my chest just stepped off. I was hoping neither Nate nor Quentin would see my shaking hand, but I think they both did because they exchanged a look and Nate stood up.
"Well, I think I'll go ahead and let you read that. I have some lab work to do, anyhow. You going to be okay, AJ?" asked Nate.
I looked up. His baby blues were scanning over me critically, looking for any signs of distress. I felt like I was under a microscope, which was rare, because he didn't analyze me often. I shook my head. "I'm fine. Thank you, guys. Both of you. For just being here this past week or so."
Nate didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded all the same. "Of course, AJ. You know where to find us."
Nate left and Quentin began to leave, but paused in the door way. He turned around and smiled at me with a wistful grin. "Orchids," he said.
I looked up from the envelop that my eyes had been glued to, not quite sure I'd heard him correctly.
"What?"
"Orchids," he repeated. "The flowers I want at my wedding. Don't tell Nate."
A giant smile bloomed across my face. "I won't," I said.
Quentin grinned widely back and left, shutting the door, leaving me along with my thoughts and my letter from Frank Jackson.
_
I know it's silly, but I must've sat on my bed for five minutes, in the dim light, just staring at the outside of the envelope. It was from Frank alright, I recognized his sharp, but messy scrawl. It was just addressed to 'AJ Frost' with the location of my apartment. I had Lydia house-sitting, so she must have forwarded it to the camp.
I wasn't sure why I was hesitating so much. I felt like I should have been ecstatic to receive a letter from Frank and to know that he was okay. And I was happy that he was still out there, fighting, but somehow that just made the situation worse. Knowing that he wasn't safe. Knowing there was always a chance. Knowing he might not make it back. It was troublesome at most. Not even mentioning my revelation that I wasn't in love with him. I still wasn't sure what to do about that and that made the entire situation a particular sort of uncomfortable.
Quit psyching yourself out, I reprimanded. Just open it.
Setting the letter down, I made my way over to my desk where I kept a letter opener in one of the drawers. I grabbed it and sat back down on my bed where I slid the blade across the paper, the letter tearing open with a satisfying sound. I pulled the letter out and unfolded it, not looking at it yet. It took a bit of mental preparation before I drew my eyes back to the paper and began to read the words, my fingers finding the silver cross on the chain around my neck.
February 18, 1943
Adelyn,
Finally, a bit of free time to write. It's crazy out here, darling. We haven't done much except defend against Axis offensives, but we've lost some good men. Right now we've been on patrol in Tunisia. I haven't seen much combat...but it's scary, Adelyn. I got shot, but don't worry! I know you, and you'll worry. I'm fine. In and out, just a flesh wound. I'll probably be healed by the time you get this.
I hope you're doing okay. I don't wanna say I'm worried about you, but well, I'm worried. I have no doubt you're keeping yourself busy. Tell the family I say hello.
I'm counting down the days until I'm home. Sorry, I can't give you more of a report, I didn't have much time to write this. My CO is yelling right now, in fact.
I love you, Adelyn. And I'll see you soon.
Frank
It was pretty much everything I'd expected. An update on his wellbeing. His thoughts on me. Telling me he loves me. The end. But still, the end felt like a sucker punch. There was nothing I wanted more than to see him in person and tell him that I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him. Of course, I knew how it would sound. Absolutely awful to anyone listening. But he deserved to know in person. Not in a letter. I just hope I'd get the chance to tell him. I stuffed the letter back in the envelope with a sigh. It was almost lunch time, and while I was hungry, that letter almost sated my appetite. Of course, Nate wouldn't take that for an excuse. He'd probably make me eat. He was worse than my mother, honestly.
I wasn't quite sure where my head was when I heard the crash and then the yelling, but wherever it had been, my focus shifted solely to the commotion outside of my door. One voice was Bateman, the other sounded like...Quentin? Surging forward, I rushed to my door, wrenching it open.
I was appalled at the sight.
Sully was on the ground cradling his arm, which had to be popped out of place. Quentin was yelling angrily at Bateman, his voice louder than I'd ever heard it. He was flailing his arms, signaling to Sully, who seemed dazed at the whole situation. Bateman looked bored with the entire affair, which set my blood to boil. I didn't think it could get much worse, but I was about to be proven wrong.
In a matter of seconds, Nate had walked into the main door, demanding to know what was going on. As he spoke, Bateman reared back, faster than a blink, and backhanded Quentin. Hard. Quentin hit the ground and didn't move. And chaos ensued.
