March 6, 1943 – Camp McCoy, Wisconsin

I'd been having a relatively good dream when the banging started. It included real food, a walk in Central Park on a cool autumn day, and watching the sunset of the New York City skyline. Downtown was relative quiet in the dream and I dared to say that it was even peaceful. I was enjoying the few moments of serenity I was getting.

Then the noise started. It was quiet at first, an incessant banging that wouldn't stop. It got louder and louder and the beating was uneven, like someone was panicked. I woke up with a start a second later, realizing the banging was coming from my door. Blinking weary eyes, I turned on my bedside lamp and looked at the clock. It was only 6:34 in the morning.

I sat up and rolled out of bed, not really bothering to put on my robe and only wearing my red silk nightgown. I figured whoever was deciding to wake me so early could deal with me not being completely presentable.

With a yawn, I unlocked my door and flung it open, surprised to see a heaving Adams standing there, also in his pajamas. I felt the tips of my ears heat up when I saw what he was wearing. Dressed in only a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top, he'd haphazardly thrown a robe on, but it wasn't tied and hanging half open. He clearly wasn't worried about it though, his eyes wild and hair sticking up in various directions, not the clean cut and carefully styled like I was used to seeing it. He was gripping a piece of paper until his knuckles were white and he thrust it in my direction.

"Read it," he said shortly.

"Nate, what the—"

"Please, AJ. Just read it." He was pleading with me now and there wasn't any way I could refuse him.

I looked at him warily and snatched up the paper, using my other hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes. The letter was crinkled where Nate had been gripping it and the words were haphazardly written in a messy scrawl. Quentin's messy scrawl. Narrowing my eyes, I read over the message.

March 6, 1943

Nate and AJ,

I heard what happened. When I woke up, Phillips told me. They want to fire you, Nate. You were just protecting me. It's not your fault. You don't deserve this. That's why I'm taking the blame. I provoked Bateman. At least, that's my excuse.

I know you'd hate me doing this, both of you. But let's face the facts: I can't watch AJ's back. I can't keep her out of harm's way like you could, Nate. So I hope you two understand why I made the choice that I made. By the time you read this, I'll be gone. At least write to me, yeah? My address is on the back. Hopefully we can all get together sometime and laugh about this.

I love you guys,

Quentin Belfort

I was numb as I flipped over the page, seeing a hastily written address. "When did you—"

"I just woke up. It was on my dresser." I wordlessly handed the sheet back and Nate took it gingerly. He ran a hand through his hair, displacing what pieces weren't messed up. His blue eyes met mine and they were more scared than I'd ever seen them. "He took the fall for me, AJ, I can't let him do that!"

I reread the letter once, then twice, making sure I was processing what I was reading. There was no mistake, though. Quentin had taken the blame so Nate could stay on campus and keep me safe. There was a part of me that wondered why I had to be kept safe and why they thought I could be harmed so easily, but it was obvious, wasn't it? Quentin wanted Nate to keep me safe from Bateman.

Rage boiled in the pit of my stomach. I thrust the letter back at Nate and he caught it. Wordlessly, I turned away and went to my bed, sitting on the edge. My mind was racing a hundred miles a minute as I tried to think of how to control the situation. The only thing that came to mind was pinning the blame on Bateman, but I wasn't sure how.

"Is that it?"

I looked at Nate, who was resting in my doorway. He was slumped against the doorframe looking utterly defeated. I pursed my lips and said, "I don't see what we can do, Nate."

"We have to get the word out about Bateman, AJ! We have to!" His voice was desperate.

"Don't you think I realize that? But...but, Nate, come on! You heard Phillips! We need evidence, and that's something we don't have! I don't know if it's something we'll ever have. Bateman's a drunken idiot but he isn't a stupid drunken idiot."

Silence fell over the two of us. I watched as Nate read Quentin's letter once more. Then, glancing at me a final time, he turned and left my room, closing the door quietly behind him.

After Nate left, I shut out my light and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't come. I laid in bed for twenty minutes or so, just staring at the ceiling, trying to think of any way to get Quentin back. Nothing came to mind. I didn't see a way out of this. Nate didn't either, that much I was sure of.

Once I was certain I wouldn't get back to sleep, I slipped into some actual clothing consisting of a long red dress and a black leather jacket that had been my father's. After I'd made myself at least sufficiently presentable, I found myself wandering the campus. It was only around a quarter after seven in the morning and already the entire camp was bustling. Soldiers came in and out of the mess hall. Drill sergeants' whistles were heard, their shrill noise paired with gunshots breaking through the peace and quiet of the chilly March morning.

I wasn't particularly hungry, nor was I interested in interacting with any of the soldiers, and I certainly wasn't going to return to the lab where Sharkbait would be. In the time that I'd been there, I'd only really been able to examine the serum twice, both times while Bateman was away. I didn't really ask questions about where he was and I didn't really care. Nate and Quentin had let me know he was away so I could make some tweaks. From what I'd seen since, the serum was just about perfected. All we needed now was the perfect candidate, which I had yet to find. After being on Camp McCoy for so long, I wasn't sure that what I was looking for was here. While some soldiers definitely showed promise, they didn't have the potential that I knew Howard and Erskine were hoping for.

When I found myself underneath the tree that I'd eaten with Bucky and his friends under so long ago, I wasn't surprised. I realized with a start that it had been over a week ago that that had happened. I hadn't seen James since. Not even in passing. A pang of disappointment rushed through my chest and I sighed as I slid down to sit. I'd realized it was pointless to try to dislike Bucky. It was pretty much impossible. My fingers tore up grass as I sat, just relaxing and thinking, which was something I hadn't had much time to do in light of recent events. Between interviewing soldiers who weren't even close to being qualified to take the serum and dealing with Erik Bateman, I didn't have much time to do anything.

A canteen appeared in my line of sight. I started, my eyes travelling from the canteen, to the hand that held it, up the hand's arm, all the way to the face of James Barnes. He wasn't smiling like I was used to, but rather his expression was reserved, like he was trying to figure out what to say to me. He looked different from the last time I'd seen him. He was clean shaven now and his hair was clipped shorter on the sides. His blue eyes were less carefree than I was used to. The only thing that was the same about him was what he was wearing: white shirt under a kelly green overshirt, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled to his elbows with a pair of standard issue pants and combat boots. I was struggling to keep my expression neutral because I was incredibly happy to see him. But he didn't need to know that.

I took the canteen and he sat down next to me without a word, pulling his knees up to his chest. I took a drink, expecting water, but instead I got something incredibly different. Making a face, I looked over at Bucky. "Chocolate milk?"

A smile ghosted across his lips. "Iced chocolate milk," he corrected.

I wrinkled my nose. "That's gross!"

"You're drinking it, aren't you?"

I didn't have an answer, so instead I lowered the canteen from my lips. "Why ice?"

"I'd rather have my chocolate milk slightly watered down rather than spoiled, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, the playful light in his eyes resurfacing.

"It's chilly out here, Ja–Bucky," I corrected. "I don't think it's going to spoil."

"Well, I'd rather be safe than sorry."

We lapsed into a bit of silence after that and I handed the drink back to Bucky. He took a drink and fiddled with cap for a moment. He cleared his throat and said, "I heard what happened." I looked at him quizzically. "With Belfort," he clarified. "And Bateman...word is flying. You accused him of being a drunk?"

"It wasn't an accusation. I was telling the truth," I huffed, letting my head fall back and hit the tree with a defeated thunk.

"Hey now, I never said you was lyin'. I believe you, AJ. I do." He opened his mouth to say something, but held it back. "So what's going to happen then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Belfort's gone and Bateman's got slack. Aren't you and the other guy going to do something? Adams, was it?"

"There's not much we can do," I said, ripping out a chunk of grass. When I held it up, a gust of wind caught the blades and they flew off my hand, into the air. "We don't have evidence. We just have a whole lot of nothing unless Sully steps up."

"Sully. That's the guy who practically worships Bateman?"

"He cowers under Bateman," I corrected. "We think Bateman abuses him, surprise, surprise. I just don't see how this entire thing can be so corrupt. It's like the whole world's going to shit, not just overseas."

Bucky whistled. "You got a mouth on you, Frosty." He cracked a grin, and as much as his demeanor made me feel a bit warmer, I couldn't bring myself to smile back.

"I think this would suffice as a reason to use strong language."

Bucky sobered up quickly and I appreciated it. "I agree with you, AJ, I do. But I don't agree with you and Adams just sittin' around like ducks. Why don't you get that evidence, huh?"

"Where would we even start for something like that?"

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but a whistle blew shrilly. He checked his wrist watch and said a few words that I was certain my grandmother wouldn't have appreciated. "That's my sarge. I have to hustle or I'll be stuck with KP duty again."

"KP?" I asked.

"Kitchen patrol. It's as bad as it sounds," he said as he stood up and dusted his pants off.

"How'd you get roped into that?"

Bucky merely grinned at me crookedly. "Apparently the Sarge doesn't like me takin' leisure strolls and sharin' my meal with the lady scientist on base."

I could feel the tips of my ears heat up at the insinuation. "You're getting in trouble because of me?" My voice came out an octave higher than usual.

"Because of you? Hell no! I'm getting in trouble on my own accord, Frosty. You got nothing to do with it." His smile stretched a bit wider, his eyes twinkling. "Besides, it was worth every godforsaken second of scrubbing those dishes."

I ducked down and shook my head, partially because I couldn't believe him, partially because I didn't want him to see my growing blush that I just knew was there. I didn't even want to acknowledge it and yet, there it was. "I–You're telling me that–Oh my God, you're going to end up getting both of us in trouble!" I said after I stopped speaking in sentence fragments.

Bucky chuckled good naturedly. "I don't think so. Your CO here is Bateman, and I don't think he gives a rat's behind about reports on you. So technically the only one getting in trouble here is gonna be me."

The whistle sounded again and I looked up at Bucky, unable to wipe the grin off of my face. "You're going to be stuck with dirty dishes again," I warned.

He laughed and backed away as he started to make his way towards where I could see a small group of soldiers lined up. "Like I said, it's worth it." Before he turned around he said, "And about Bateman. You and Adams...you two aren't just gonna quit. It's not in your nature and after hearing about the beating Adams gave that jackass...it's not in his either. You'll find your evidence. I mean, there's gotta be somethin'. He's a drinker, AJ, he'll leave a trail." By that point he was yelling because he was so far from me and making an absolute fool of himself. He spread his arms. "You're a genius, AJ Frost!" he yelled.

A small laugh escaped my lips and I could see his smile, all bright as he turned around and broke into a jog to reach his sergeant.

I shook my head and as I leaned back, my hand bumped something. I glanced to my left and there was Bucky's canteen. He'd left it there and I picked it up. I could hear the ice cubes rattling inside. To this day, I'm still not certain whether Bucky left it there on purpose or not. It didn't matter though, because sitting there, staring at the canteen gave me a brilliant idea.

What had Bucky said? He's a drinker, AJ, he'll leave a trail. Of course he would. He was a drinker. He had to get his supply from somewhere and he had to keep it somewhere, on campus most likely. The only question was...where?