Dr. Campbell
"My mama done tol' me, when I was in pigtails, my mama done tol' me, a man's gonna sweet-talk and give you the big eyes…"
I sang absently as I swept the floor of the lab. The night was dark outside, only the twinkling stars providing any illumination. The lab still blazed inside though with the industrial lights blaring down from overhead.
While searching for some fresh chalk for my board, I'd found a little corner of the store cupboard dedicated to cleaning supplies that looked like they'd been gathering dust since before the war. My trashcan and the chalk dust were calling my name. I'd never had a problem cleaning, and the lab in general could definitely use it, so I made that my project for the night.
For me, cleaning was almost meditative. I came from a wealthy family, but that didn't mean I grew up never doing any work. My father insisted on it. I had chores from the time I was old enough. I vividly remembered scrubbing the tile in the bathroom every other Saturday and doing my own laundry from the time I was tall enough to reach the controls on the washer.
Cleaning was something I could shut off and do while my mind drifted from thought to thought. I did some of my best thinking when I was cleaning. My thoughts would stray and stretch in all directions, snapping back into place once they'd found a topic they wanted to stick on for a while and then latching on like a pit bull.
I continued to hum the song as I compiled a list of what I needed to do. I meant to ask Peggy if she was willing to spar with me sometime, I'd do that when I got back to the barracks tonight. And I had been cleared to leave base this weekend to go into Brooklyn, Peggy also said she needed to give me some information about the lab security.
I finished with the broom and set it back inside the closet. I picked up a dust rag and set about cleaning the flat surfaces of the lab. I dragged my rag over all of the equipment, careful not to press something inadvertently. Then I moved on to the desks, giving all of them a quick rubdown, being sure to put everything back where it was.
"Look who finally figured out what they're meant to be doing."
I whipped around, my eyes widening. It was Campbell, leaning against the door frame and giving me a superior smirk. I scowled at him, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at him.
"I don't know what you're implying, Dr. Campbell," I replied, forcing myself not to toss the dust rag into his face in irritation.
"Just that women don't have any business strutting around in lab coats," Campbell replied saccharinely, pushing himself off the door frame and stepping into the lab proper. He approached me, staring me down. I just widened my stance and tilted my head back, daring him to cross me.
His mouth quirked to the side, like he was amused by my shift in stance. That made the anger start to bubble up from my stomach.
"I. Do not. Strut," I bit out, doing my best to bore a hole in his head with my glare.
Worth rolled his eyes. "Right. Then what do you call it, strolling around in heels with your face made up? We all know the only reason you're here is to try and snag a soldier for a husband."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "If that were true, I'd hit them less and flirt with them more."
Campbell snorted. "Who knows how women's minds work? You people play all kinds of strange games."
My mouth dropped open, a strangled sound of rage escaping despite my best efforts. Campbell's eyes flashed in triumph at the proof that he was getting to me. I snapped my jaw shut and gritted my teeth, narrowing my eyes at him.
"That's a weak argument and you know it," I snapped at him. He had the audacity to laugh at me.
Then he seemed to notice where I was standing. I was right next to his cubicle, dust rag in my hand. His eyes darted from the rag to his desk. Instantly his eyes went back to me, glaring daggers.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, stalking forwards furiously. He pushed past me brusquely. As he past I caught a whiff of him. Some kind of cologne, paper, and something bitter. He looked over his desk with frantic eyes, like he expected me to have shredded his notes or – oh I didn't know, gotten lipstick all over them, something painfully feminine like that. His eyes darted up to me suspiciously.
"What were you doing to my work area?" he asked, stepping closer to me. Campbell was tall, but so was I. He didn't tower over me quite as much as he'd hoped to, and I could tell it bothered him by the way the corners of his lips turned down.
I thrust the dust cloth under his nose pointedly. "Cleaning," I replied shortly. "What do you think I was doing?"
"Did you touch any of my work?" he pressed, swatting my hand and knocking the cloth out from under his nose.
"No, I would never!" I replied sarcastically.
The truth was, I hadn't. Campbell was almost painfully particular about his work area. When he finished for the day there was never a paper left on his desk. He tucked it all away in his drawers in some kind of convoluted filing system no one else could manage to understand. All I knew was that it involved some kind of numeric code and was far more complicated than it needed to be.
All I'd done was scoot his cup of pencils – all exactly the same length – to dust under it, and then I put it back. There was nothing else on his desk for me to touch.
"You'd better not have messed anything up," Campbell muttered angrily as he tugged open one of his drawers, rifling through the papers. I couldn't tell if he was really talking to me or not. "I won't be set back because some bitch playing scientist got curious…. Doesn't even deserve to be here…"
"Excuse me for trying to be nice!" I exclaimed. Campbell looked up just as I hurled the dust rag at him. It smacked into his face satisfyingly and slid to the ground with a whump. Before Campbell could make another derogatory comment, I stalked out of the lab, hands fisting and unfisting at my sides as I tried not to slip…
A bit of blood leaked into my palm when I clenched my hands too hard. I could smell it, warm and metallic. With a scowl I brought my palm to my mouth and licked the blood away irritably, shivering slightly at the taste. Something about it appealed to the more animalistic side of me. The same side that wanted to stalk back into that laboratory and rip Campbell's throat out with my teeth.
I paused, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. My fingers tensed, curling into claws and then flexing out in a rhythm as I tried to calm myself down. My nose twitched at the smell of someone familiar and I could hear soft footsteps and the brushing of fabric against fabric.
"Who got you so worked up?"Bucky asked. I opened my eyes and found him leaning against the corner of the closest building, looking at me with his head tilted lazily and a confident little smile on his lips.
"Doctor Campbell," I replied with a snarl, barely fighting down a genuine, chest-deep growl of anger.
Bucky raised one eyebrow. "He the guy from Boston that's always looking down his nose?"
I chuckled. "Yes, that'll be him."
"What'd he do?" Bucky asked, sliding his hands into his pockets and pushing off the edge of the building. He tossed his head in the direction of the barracks, an invitation to walk. I brushed a hand across my forehead and let out a sigh, releasing all of the anger in a woosh of air before I did something stupid, like punched a wall. I stepped up to his side and we started to walk.
"He was being sexist, plain and simple," I explained. "Saying a woman doesn't belong in a lab, let alone leading a team. I'm unqualified, I should be in a kitchen… the usual vitriol."
Bucky shook his head. "I couldn't make heads or tail of those papers I saw you sitting with, and you're the one that wrote 'em. I'd say you know what you're doing."
"That's exactly it!" I burst out, waving my hands in the air. "I do know what I'm doing… but," I relented, "I don't have a degree. Most everyone else working on the project has a degree in one of the sciences or is working towards one, and I'm entirely self-taught. In fact, that's part of my salary, you could say, is a doctorate so that people can't question my abilities."
Bucky shook his head, laughing slightly. "Well no wonder he doesn't like you."
I jerked away from him, opening my mouth and narrowing my eyes, ready to let him have it. Bucky saw my face and hastily held up his hands, stalling me.
"No, I didn't mean it like that!" he corrected. "I just meant if you taught yourself all that, smart as you are… he's probably jealous."
"Jealous," I repeated softly. "Yes, I can understand that, I suppose."
"Right," Bucky nodded confidently. "So, see? Ignore him, he's not worth your time."
"I'm not sure how well that'll go," I admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I… may have lost my temper with him."
"Lost your temper with him like you lost your temper with that soldier?" Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows. "I'm sorry I missed that. I'd have like to see you deck that guy. He's always sneering at the rest of us guys, just because we're here for basic and not solving the world's problems."
"No," I chuckled. "I went after him with a dust rag."
"Well, from what you've said, he deserved a good dusting," Bucky said, leaning down in my direction just a little and tossing me a wink. "This you?"
"Indeed it is," I said as we stopped beside my barracks. I shifted to face Bucky, giving him a genuine smile. "Thank you, Bucky. I needed that."
And I really did. I felt like I had to keep my frustrations with my colleagues to myself. Erskine had his own problems and I wasn't quite friendly enough with Peggy yet to want to pour my heart out to her. Bucky, though, with his unique brand of advice and jokes, was a good listener.
Bucky grinned, pulling a hand from his pocket and giving a lazy, two-fingered salute. "Any time, Belle," he said, and started off. "Good night!" he called over his shoulder.
"Goodnight," I murmured to myself, opening the door and stepping inside the barracks. Peggy was sitting at her desk, already in her nightgown, robe, and slippers for the evening. In one hand was a letter on official stationary, but she was focused on me.
"And who was that gentlemen?" she asked pointedly. I flushed slightly, knowing where this conversation was about to go. "Your mystery soldier from the tree?"
"Just one of the recruits," I said breezily. I liked Bucky, I did. I liked talking to him, and he listened to whatever I had to say without saying it was unladylike or telling me I was doing something I shouldn't be. And yes, I wasn't blind. That boy's face was kissed by angels – and so was the rest of him, all told.
But Campbell's words were fresh on my mind. I was here for my career, to make a name for myself. Not to chase a pair of dog tags around the base.
"Does this recruit have a name?" Peggy asked leadingly.
"Peggy." I whined, trying to get her to let it drop. She just raised an eyebrow at me and sat back in her chair, waiting patiently. I sighed. "Bucky Barnes."
"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Peggy said pointedly. I didn't answer, just made my way towards my bed and sat down, unlacing my shoes. I reached back and unclipped my stockings from my garter belt, getting ready for bed myself.
"I was wondering if you'd be up for a little spar in the morning," I requested. Peggy raised an eyebrow.
"I know you're capable of handling yourself," she said slowly. "But I've had formal training, and I don't know-"
"So have I," I cut her off.
"Have you?" she asked curiously. I nodded, smiling.
"Aside from the normal rough-housing with my cousins, my father was a very good boxer back in the day. He taught me, and an old friend used to give me tips when she dropped by."
"She?" Peggy repeated in surprise. I nodded happily, remembering the days when my friend was staying with us. She lived in the plantation house for almost three years before finally moving on to somewhere new. She wasn't good at staying in places for very long.
"Yeah, she. But I haven't seen her in nearly… oh, five years now probably," I said sadly. "I don't even kno where she is, to be honest. That's probably for the best though."
"Why?" Peggy asked curiously.
"Her name is Yori Tsukuda," I said bluntly. Peggy winced.
"Ah, I see."
"Last I heard from her, she was heading back to Japan though, so hopefully she's safe," I said, trying to convince myself. Then again, she had mentioned trying to get to Japan by heading through Europe and Russia – going all the way around the world. There was no telling whether or not she'd gotten caught up in the fighting.
I sent up a silent prayer for my friend and continued getting ready for bed.
