Guess who's back from the dead (it's me).

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC

Chapter 2

Early Summer, 1942

Camp Lehigh, New Jersey

As the eighth week came to an end, Brooklyn realized that Bucky was the closest male friend she's ever had, other than her brother and her father. They ate lunch together more than once a week now; they actually ate together more often than not. He told her about his family, about Steve Rogers, and about his life before enlisting in the army.

She half didn't understand why he enlisted. Of course, he was a man with pride; he wanted to protect his country and lead the Axis Alliance to hell, but other than that she really didn't understand his reason. He had a mother, a father, a little sister, and a best friend all with him back at home. He most likely meant the world to them. If he died they would be heartbroken. The country didn't need soldiers now, they weren't drafting, so how come?

Brooklyn didn't question his reasons though. For all she knew they could be personal, intimate, and she was sure that her and Bucky were not close enough friends to be asking those types of questions.

Through the questions she did ask and the conversations they did have, Brooklyn learnt that Bucky had a reputation back in Brooklyn. Apparently he was quite the ladies man. She could understand that; he was quite the looker (not that she would never admit it out loud), and he had a confident and kind personality that women liked. Yet, she didn't see it much around camp. Eleanor, the nurse Bucky talked to, got shipped overseas a short while after they started talking. After her, Brooklyn barely saw Bucky with anyone.

Brooklyn thought him and Eleanor were together, but when she brought up the topic of Eleanor up he shrugged her off and said she wasn't the one.

Other conversations they had led to his reputation around Camp Lehigh. He was a very good fighter (not that she didn't already know that), and apparently he used these skills outside training. In the previous weeks, he got into three fights. When Bucky told her about these fights, it took all Brooklyn had in her not to hit him. Was he insane? Was he purposely trying to get written warnings and possibly kicked out?

In the end she did end up hitting him. It was a strong punch to the shoulder. She was very pleased to find out that her punch bruised.

Brooklyn also learned that Bucky was a determined person, much more determined than she originally thought he was. He never backed down in any situation until he got what he wanted. His latest display of this quality (which almost earned him a punch in front of all of their troop) was not tapping out of a hand-to-hand session during training.

He got thrown on the ground three times, but each time escaping the pin. He got back up with each hit to the ground. At one point Bucky was on the ground, and she was sure he was going to give up. Most men did at this point. Yet, to her surprised, he used what seemed to be every last ounce of strength left in him to grab the trainer's leg and flip him over on the ground so Bucky sat atop, straddling him. He delivered two swift fake punches to his face, and the fight was declared over with Bucky was winner.

His determination during training made her heart swell with pride. It was an unusual feeling to feel towards one of her soldiers, but she didn't argue with this feeling. It was deserved.

Even before the impressive spar session Bucky won, he was considered one of the top soldiers in the camp. He was skilled in everything, especially shooting. He could hit any target from anywhere. He was even better than her, and she didn't even know that could be possible.

Brooklyn thought that Bucky should stay at Camp Lehigh and specialize in becoming a sniper. It was an extra while on base, but he would be put into specialty groups once overseas and it would overall be better for him. When Brooklyn presented the idea to him, however, Bucky shook his head and replied that he's got to go home.

Her spirits deflated slightly when he told her this.

She didn't really want him to go home. She would never admit it out loud, but it was true. Brooklyn became accustomed to his presence at Camp Lehigh; and him leaving would really changed how she lived her days at this camp.

Brooklyn stood before her 15 soldiers. Her face was stern, her hands fisted behind her back.

"Congratulations, soldiers," she announced. She was in Agent Kennedy mode, her no-joking-around persona. She looked at each of her soldiers. They all looked confused to a degree. Why was she congratulating them?

She stayed silent for a minute before grinning at them. "You've made it through over two months of training." Her soldiers stayed quiet for a second, staring at her, before erupting into cheers. They clapped their hands, howled, and hugged each other. Brooklyn's grin stayed on her face as she looked at all of the men she'd had the wonderful pleasure of dealing with. She let them cheer on for a few more seconds before calling them to attention.

"No matter how proud of yourself you are right now," Brooklyn started, going back into her serious persona. "You aren't done yet," she told them. "You still have three weeks left to go."

The men audibly groaned, some even rolled their eyes, but didn't say anything. They just eyed Brooklyn, waiting for her to say something.

Brooklyn looked down at her watch. It was the end of their training day, almost dinner. She technically still had ten minutes of training left, but it was Saturday on the night before everyone's day off.

She looked back up to her men. "Go," she told them, ushering them away with her hands. "Enjoy tonight and tomorrow. Monday we start bright and early." All her men ran off without another word.

Brooklyn sighed in content and closed her eyes. Finally her day off came. Each week on Sunday the camp would rest, and that would serve as her day off. Usually she did paperwork, but tomorrow was going to be different. She finally completed enough of her paperwork, so tomorrow she would rest. Maybe even take a run.

A voice interrupted her pleasing thoughts. "Why do you look so happy?" Brooklyn's eyes opened to see Bucky standing in front of her, a soft lopsided smile on his face.

"Because all of you soldiers are gone," Brooklyn replied, closing her eyes again and taking a content breath. She opened them once her calming breath was over and tilted her head to the man before her. "Well, not all of them." Bucky lightly rolled his eyes as he came to stand closer to the agent.

"Would you feel better if I left too?" Brooklyn looked to Bucky, whose bottom lip quivered as he gave her puppy dog eyes. His baby blues shone in the setting sun, and Brooklyn found it very hard to look away from them.

After a moment, she realized Bucky asked her a question, and she snapped out of her daze. "Not really," she replied, straightening out her uniform jacket. "You're fun to talk to."

Brooklyn didn't wait for a response as she started to walk off the general parade square they were on into the direction of her office. She didn't need to turn back to know that Bucky followed her.

"That's nice to know," he told her, catching up to walk next to her. He matched her pace, staying by her side as they walked through the camp.

"Don't act too surprised," Brooklyn countered, a playful tone in her voice. She turned her head to Bucky. "Why would I spend so much of my spare time with you if you weren't fun?" Bucky shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. He looked forward onto the sanded-down pathway they were currently walking down before furrowing his eyebrows and looking back at Brooklyn.

"Wait, are you telling me it's not because of my charming looks?" Bucky asked, his voice incredulous and his eyes teasing. Brooklyn pretended to think, tapping her finger on her chin and furrowing her eyebrows for effect.

"No," she retorted, shaking her head. She tapped her chin once more before facing Bucky. "I don't think that's it." Bucky chuckled.

"You're hurting me, doll." A smile grew on Brooklyn's face. He's been calling her that recently. Doll.

"Well then someone's got to shoot your ego down," Brooklyn told him, eyeing him with a smirk on her face as they continued to walk. "Lucky for you I'm a pretty good shot." Bucky gave her a teasing look before lightly laughing.

For the next minute, the two walked in comfortable silence. They passed soldiers doing a multitude of things. Eating, playing soccer, talking with nurses, reading. They paid little attention to her and Bucky and they walked by.

She looked back at the men playing soccer. She had an urge to join them. She really wanted to run, to feel the ball move with her as she ducked past men towards the net.

The last time she'd done anything relatively physically exhausting was three weeks ago, when she taught hand-to-hand. She should start working out again. Agents always had to be in tip-top shape.

Brooklyn's thought continued down the same train of thought until Bucky's voice brought her out of it.

"What's on your mind?" Brooklyn looked to him before looking back forward.

"I was thinking of taking a run tomorrow morning and then going to the gym to fight a bag full of sand," she replied. Brooklyn could practically feel the punching bag hitting her knuckles. Lord, she missed it.

She glanced back to Bucky, who looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe she should invite him? It wouldn't be considered inappropriate for those who saw them, and it would be fun to have him there.

Bucky opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything Brooklyn blurted: "Would you like to join?"

Bucky's mouth closed as a smile grew on his face.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"I don't even fully understand why you want to do PT on the one day you don't actually have to," Brooklyn said, her eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"A run will never do anyone any harm," Bucky replied. His voice turned teasing. "And I'd like to see how fit you really are, Agent Kennedy." Brooklyn smirked as he glanced at her, his eyes sparkling.

"This sounds like the beginning to a competition," Brooklyn smirked. She glanced up at Bucky and met his eyes. "Are you challenging me at something?" Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll see tomorrow."

"Well, I'm going bright and early," Brooklyn informed him. "I don't want to waste the whole day running around a field. Meet me at the running track at 0600?"

Bucky nodded "Be ready to eat my dust." Brooklyn shook her head, a daring smirk on her face.

"I think I should be saying that to you, mister Barnes," she replied. "I mean, who's the amazingly fit agent here?" Bucky threw his head back in laughter. His right hand flew to his chest, where he grasped it for more effect on how hard he was laughing.

"Your legs are almost half the size of mine," he howled. "I'd be surprised if you even matched my pace." Now it was Brooklyn's turn to laugh. Oh how he underestimated her.

The two slowed down as they arrived at a small building. It looked like a bigger version of the barracks, except with fewer windows. Brooklyn opened the door and stepped in. Bucky stood at the door, unsure if he should enter.

Brooklyn turned back, realizing he wasn't following her, and gave him a look. "Well come on in," she said, ushering him in.

Still unsure if he should be here, Bucky walked close behind her as they passed a few rows of desks. She stopped at one. There were organized piles of papers stacked on one side of the desk and a scatter of pens, small notebooks, and books on the other.

There was nothing personal on this desk, nothing showing it was hers other than a small framed photograph sitting in the corner, almost blocked by the pile of books and papers. Bucky tilted his head as he examined the photo, trying to get a look at it.

He couldn't tell much about it from its angle other than there were six people in the photo. Was it Brooklyn's family?

Through her sorting, Brooklyn noticed Bucky's gaze on the photograph sitting on her desk.

"What're you looking at over there?" she asked, her voice soft. Bucky nearly jumped at her question, averting his eyes from the photograph.

"Uh, nothing," he stuttered. "Just – uh – this your family?" he asked. Brooklyn looked from him to the framed photograph on her desk.

"Yeah," she replied, straightening her back from where she was previously crouched down and coming to stand next to him. She picked up the photograph and rested it in her hands before handing it to him.

"It's ages old," she told him. "It was taken when I was still a teenager, maybe 12 years ago."

They stood with their shoulders pressed together, and she only then realized how small she was compared to him. Even in her heels, her head barely passed his chin.

Brooklyn looked back at the photograph and pointed to the girl on the very right. "That's my sister Anna." The girl was sitting on a stool, her back straight and poised. She had long, dark hair that framed her face and a skinny build.

"She older than you?" Bucky asked. Brooklyn nodded and smiled.

"By three years," Brooklyn replied. "I think she was 17 when this was taken."

The girl had a similar face to Brooklyn's, but Bucky found differences. Brooklyn had a more set jaw, and bigger eyes. Fuller lips too.

Brooklyn pointed a finger to another girl in the photo. She stood next to Anna. She looked younger. "That's me."

Bucky looked from the photo to her. She looked about the same. Her small nose was still the same shape. Her jawline was still prominent, her eyes light. There were some differences, though. The girl in the photo had much longer hair. It cascaded down her back, the light waves framing her face and ending near her elbows. Now it ended just at her shoulders.

"Do I look any different?" Brooklyn took him out of his thoughts. Bucky shook his head.

"Not really," he told her. He looked from the photo to Brooklyn again. "Just older, more mature. And your hair now, it's a lot shorter."

"Long hair went out of style with the coming of the war," Brooklyn told him. "It's supposed to keep it above the collar for factory work, and keeping it long is such a hassle. It's just easier to cut it."

"Isn't it still hard though?" Bucky asked, looking to Brooklyn. "Rebecca always complains about needing to curl it with – oh what are they called…" Bucky stopped short, trying to remember a word.

"Rollers?" Brooklyn guessed. Bucky looked at her nodding.

"That's it," he agreed. "And then she'd go to sleep with cut up pieces of her stockings in her hair and she'd look so ridiculous –"

"They are not ridiculous!" Brooklyn interrupted, laughing. Bucky gave her an incredulous look. She looked up at him, giggling. "I'm serious! Ragging works so well, it always made my hair look amazing."

"Well then you have got to teach Rebecca how to use them because I don't think she knows how to," he told her. He started laughing, and Brooklyn chuckled.

"It's not too hard," Brooklyn told Bucky. "I'm sure she'll learn with time."

"I hope so," Bucky agreed. "Whenever I tell her she needs to fix her hair she just punches me and leaves my arms black and blue." Brooklyn laughed.

"When I was younger I used to do that a lot to my brother," she said.

"Punch him for telling you your hair looked terrible?" Bucky questioned.

"Among other things," Brooklyn replied. "I'd punch him for anything he said against me. I think I even cut up his favourite shirt when we were young." Bucky chuckled.

"That hurts me deep inside," he said, dramatically cringing. Brooklyn nodded in agreement.

"I cringe when I look back at it too," she told him. "I think I was five years old. It was during the earliest depression, and I didn't fully understand how much that cut up shirt cost my parents."

Bucky looked down at the photograph. The boy standing next to the younger Brooklyn was most likely her brother. He was on the very left sitting in a stool, mirroring the position that Anna was in.

"That's him," Brooklyn said, pointing to the same boy Bucky was looking at. "His name is Robert." He didn't look anything like Brooklyn. Instead of a darker shade of hair, it was light. He had a strong build in this photo though he didn't look that old. He looked maybe the same age as Brooklyn did.

"How old is he now?" Bucky asked. The agent furrowed her eyebrows, thinking.

"He's turning 27 this August I'm pretty sure," she answered.

"Older than you?" Bucky asked. The agent nodded. Her eyes didn't lift from the photo.

"By a year," she replied. "He never really acted like it though. He always acted more like his shoe size than his age."

"Is he back at home now?" Bucky asked. Brooklyn shook her head.

"He's overseas right now. Last he wrote to me he was in France." Brooklyn felt her eyes stinging. She silently cursed and looked away from the photograph. She began busying herself with the pens and notebooks on her desk again.

Bucky took the hint that she didn't want to talk about him, and decided that this was enough of a lesson about her family.

He deposited the photograph back onto the desk where he found it and leaned on her desk. They stayed quiet for a minute until Bucky spoke up.

"What are you doing tonight?"

Brooklyn stopped the shuffling of her papers and looked up, an eyebrow raised. She eyed him before answering. "We have a new agent coming tonight from MI6," she told him. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you think he's going to be a problem?" he asked. Brooklyn almost cooed on the inside. He seemed so concerned! Her attention to his concern was quickly side tracked though, and she grinned.

"It's a her." Bucky's face visibly relaxed, and a quirked smile appeared.

"Another woman on base?" He asked, looking at Brooklyn. She eagerly nodded.

"I'm so excited. I'm not going to be the only female agent here." Bucky's quirked smile widened.

"If she's anything like you these soldiers are really in for it."

"If she's anything like me I will cry with joy and then make her my best friend." Bucky laughed as she organized the last pile. She looked down at her watch.

"Come on," she told him, straightening her back and her jacket. "She's arriving in twenty minutes and I've got to meet her."

Brooklyn started walking out of the office, and Bucky followed her.

"What's her name?" He asked as they stepped out the door. Brooklyn thought. She didn't quite remember. All she did remember was her mind blurring everything out and going into overdrive at the words another female agent is joining this camp. The name of this agent was blurry in her mind. Carbon? Carton?

"Carter," Brooklyn blurted. She thought for another second. "Agent Carter." Yes, that sounded about right to her.

"You seem so excited," Bucky laughed. He was right, she was almost bouncing with excitement. Brooklyn smiled in response to his comment.

"Where are you going now?" Brooklyn asked as they walked down the road. Bucky shrugged.

"To eat I guess," he replied.

"Then we're going to go in different directions." Brooklyn met Bucky's eyes and shone him a smile before turning and walking in the other direction, towards Colonel Phillips' office. She walked a few steps before turning around and meeting Bucky's eyes again.

"Tomorrow, running field at 0600, Bucky," she told him. One side of her mouth quirked up. "Don't forget."

Bucky looked at her. His eyes seemed to soften before he grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Agent Carter was different than what Brooklyn thought she would be. She was a lot smaller than Brooklyn imagined her being, that's for one.

She was taller than Brooklyn by a little less than half a head. But Brooklyn was short, even in heels. It surprised her that Agent Carter was so tiny when Colonel Phillips described her being serious, strict and scary. With the new agent being this small, Brooklyn was anxious that Agent Carter would be edgy and uptight to make up for the lack of intimidation in height.

"Welcome to Camp Lehigh," Brooklyn said to her after she was initially introduced to herself and Phillips. Brooklyn extended her hand to the MI6 agent. Agent Carter took it and firmly shook it. "I'm Agent Kennedy, the only other female agent here."

"Agent Carter," she replied. Her British accent was enviable. Phillips came up behind her, holding a stack of papers in one hand. He extended the other and she shook it as well.

"Welcome to camp Agent Carter," he said. She nodded in reply to him and picked up her two suitcases.

A car rolled up next to them, and Phillips took seat in the front. Brooklyn and Agent Carter both sat in the back.

As they rode in the car, Phillips turned to the new agent and started explaining to her the main things to know about this training camp. Brooklyn tuned out most of it – she's heard it before. Instead she looked out to the soldiers they passed. They all paused their activities to look at the new agent.

As they passed all the soldiers, Brooklyn felt relief course through her. She wasn't the only female agent at camp anymore. The attention wasn't going to be only on her anymore. Of course she felt bad for the new woman. Agent Carter was going to be getting the brunt of the catcalls and attention, but Brooklyn was thankful that she would be given a break from the constant attention.

Once they arrived at Phillips' office, Agent Carter and Brooklyn stepped out the car and walked alongside Phillips to his desk. Once there, the new agent signed a few papers and got a pack of files. Phillips called the stack of papers newbie paperwork.

"Sounds exciting," Agent Carter muttered upon getting the stack. Her sarcastic tone made Brooklyn snicker. Maybe this agent wasn't so bad after all.

After getting everything she needed from Phillips, Agent Carter was off. With a quick salute, the new agent and Brooklyn left his office.

"So," Carter started once she and Brooklyn started walking down the sanded-down road. "How's life here?" Brooklyn looked at the agent.

"It's not too different from training," Brooklyn told her. "Everything with a penis here either wants you to fail or wants you on him. Sometimes a bit of both." The Brit's eyes were wide, astonished at the kind of language Brooklyn used. She thought the Brit was going to be offended by her words, but instead she smiled and started laughing.

"Yes, that doesn't sound too different."

"Just a warning though, the soldiers won't stop their catcalling. Not unless you give them a reason to." The Brit looked at Brooklyn.

"Did you?" she asked. Brooklyn shrugged.

"I like to think I did," she told her. The agent gave her a puzzled look. She elaborated. "On the first day of this batch I punched a recruit who thought he was a hotshot." The Brit nodded in approval.

"That's a good thing to do," she replied. "Did he ever try anything again?"

"He actually did," Brooklyn told her, pursing her lips.

"And did you do anything about it?" The agent asked. Brooklyn grinned.

"I was forced to teach a hand-to-hand class. The same recruit insulted me so when everyone was sparring I went against him and beat him to the ground." The Brit burst out laughing.

"That's gold," she said once she calmed down. "You've got heart; I like you."

"Right back at you, agent," Brooklyn replied.

The two walked in a comfortable silence until they reached the barracks area. The density of men increased, and the catcalls all but exploded.

Ooh! Who's this new dame here?

Give us a twirl, sweet thing!

Why don't you come by tonight, honey buns?

Brooklyn rolled her eyes so hard at the last comment that she thought they got stuck at the back of her head. Who called their girl honey buns? It made her cringe.

"The comments don't go away," Brooklyn told the Brit. "It does dies down after a while, though."

"I'm sure I'll teach them to respect me enough for them to completely stop," Agent Carter reassured. "It's not too hard to do what you've done." Brooklyn smiled.

"It's not," she reassured. Brooklyn thought back to the time she punched Hunts. "It's actually quite fun. I hadn't punched anything in a very long time, so I enjoyed it." The Brit giggled.

With a little more walking, the two agents arrived at the female barracks. There were five building, which wasn't that impressive compared to the amount of male barracks. The males had at least 40 buildings, and those were only for the soldiers. There were more if all the staff was counted as well.

There weren't many women at Camp Lehigh, so they all fit into five barracks. There was nothing here that women could really do other than train in becoming a nurse, or in rare cases like Brooklyn and Agent Carter's, come in as agents.

Four of the five barracks were for army nurses in training, while the last one was for more senior residents. Brooklyn lived in the last one. So far only five women lived there: Brooklyn, three senior nurses, and Phillips' assistant. With Agent Carter there were going to be six.

The two agents entered the barrack. Most beds were empty, so the new agent had a lot of beds to choose from. She chose the one across from Brooklyn's.

The Brit opened her suitcases and started laying out clothes and other possessions on the bed. Brooklyn, getting comfortable, threw her heels off and sat on her own bed. She watched as the new agent organized her clothes on her own bed. She eventually threw of her jacket as well, leaving her in her blouse and her skirt.

"Do you have a lot of time to yourself here?" the Brit eventually asked. Brooklyn watched as she opened the wardrobe next to her bed.

"It depends on the week you're in and the batch of men you have," she replied. "Some agents find they have a lot of time and some don't. Paperwork is mainly why we don't, though."

The Brit paused her organizing to look at Brooklyn. "Do you?" Brooklyn shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"This batch of men I've barely had any," she informed her. "For the most part I've been almost drowning in paperwork that Colonel Phillips shoved in my face."

"That seems terrible," The Brit told her. Brooklyn shrugged.

"It's busying," she replied. "Takes your mind off all the men dying across the sea."

There was a short but tense silence that encompassed the barrack until Brooklyn spoke up again, trying to break it.

"It still sucks though," she said, puckering her lips and nodding her head. "You get the worst cramps in your wrist – sometimes you think it'll never go away with how much you write." The new agent cracked a smile at this, and a feeling of accomplishment Brooklyn. She made her smile within her first hour here, go her.

"I'm guessing the paperwork still sucks, though," the Brit said as she took an article of clothing and put it on a small shelf in the wardrobe. Brooklyn nodded.

"That's an understatement," she snorted. "But on the bright side, once you've done all the paperwork Phillips throws at you, you have time to do all sorts of stuff." Peggy raised an eyebrow.

"And what kinds of things can you do in this camp?" she asked. Brooklyn thought for a moment.

"I mean," she started. "You can do a lot of PT. There's a pretty good running track here and an indoor gymnasium. When it's too cold to do PT outside we do it in there. The punching bags are pretty durable – it's great." A smile grew on the Brit's face.

"I will keep that in mind," she told Brooklyn. She continued to fold her clothes and Brooklyn lounged on her bed. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence, and Brooklyn found herself dozing off. She almost did until Carter spoke up again.

"Do you have any tips for me?" she asked. Brooklyn opened her eyes and looked at the agent.

"Most of the things you'll learn on your own here," Brooklyn told her. "But I would suggest keeping up with the paperwork and beating some sense into your men." Carter laughed.

"I will happily do the latter." Brooklyn cracked a smile as she closed her eyes again and crossed her arms over her head.

"Oh," Brooklyn started again, her eyes still closed. "And stay away from the pears here. They're hard as rock." This time the Brit burst out laughing.

"I will keep that in mind," she giggled. "So basically do the paperwork on time and keep your men controlled?" Peggy asked. Brooklyn nodded.

"That's the goal."

"Seems easy enough," The Brit said, almost as if to herself.

"When are you getting your first batch of men?" Brooklyn asked. Peggy was silent for a moment, most likely thinking, until she spoke up again.

"I think I'm getting my batch in three days." Brooklyn cracked an eye open and glanced at the agent. She was almost done organizing everything into her wardrobe.

"I wish you luck then," Brooklyn replied. "You'll need it."

"I hope I won't need it too much, though," the new agent prayed. "I don't need bloody knuckles for all twelve weeks of this batch. I feel like Colonel Phillips would have my head." Brooklyn chuckled and shook her head in disagreement.

"He wouldn't, trust me."

"Oh?" The Brit questioned.

"He'll applaud you for 'beating them into soldiers'," Brooklyn informed her. "At least that's what he did to me. In all I wouldn't worry too much over the bloody knuckles."

"I would," the Brit retorted. "Those suckers hurt." Brooklyn chuckled.

"I won't argue with you on that," she told her. She closed her eyes again, before opening them again.

"Hey, Agent Carter?" she called. The new agent turned to her. "Call me Brooklyn. Agent Carter makes me feel like you're one of my cadets."

Brooklyn closed her eyes right after saying this, but she was pretty sure she saw a smile grow on Agent Carter's face.

"Well if I can call you Brooklyn," she started. "You can call me Peggy."

The next morning, Brooklyn woke up at the very crack of dawn. The other women in the barrack were sleeping, tangled in their sheets and lightly snoring.

Brooklyn tried her best to not wake them up as she slipped on trousers, a t-shirt, and her combat boots. She didn't even bother putting on her makeup on, just messily brushing her fingers through her hair in attempt to make it less frizzy.

In the next few minutes, she was out of the barracks, and lightly jogging down the sandy road to the running track. The roads were practically empty, save a few agents doing work. Brooklyn loved when camp was like this; quiet and peaceful.

She continued jogging down the road, making the small twists and turns to get to the running track. Once she got there, she saw Barnes. He wasn't wearing his tunic, just an off-white t-shirt, his trousers, and his combat boots. His dog tags were out of his shirt, hanging low around his neck.

Brooklyn jogged up to him. He must've heard her because he stopped stretching to look up at her.

"Good morning Brooklyn," he greeted, smiling at her.

"Good morning, Bucky," she replied. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart rate down from her slow jog.

"How's the new agent?" Bucky asked, stretching his left arm. Brooklyn followed suit.

"She's amazing," she told him. "She's scary. You won't see much of her. You probably won't even see her at all. She's going to be busy handling soldiers like me. We have the same job."

"What does she look like?" Bucky asked again, starting to stretch his other arm. Brooklyn shrugged lightly.

"Short brown hair, hazel eyes. A very intimidating aura." A smile quirked on Bucky's face.

"She sounds a lot like you," he told her. Brooklyn shrugged. She did have some similarities with her, but a bunch of differences came to mind as well.

"She's taller than I am," she started off. "And I have blue eyes, not hazel. My hair's lighter too." Bucky chuckled.

"Well," he started. He looked Brooklyn in the eyes and smiled. "If she's anything like you, I think I'll like her."

Brooklyn's eyes widened. Did she hear him right? Her stomach exploded in butterflies, and she felt her ears get hot. She must've been so red. Thank god her hair was covering most of her face, or he could've noticed it and this situation would've gotten a lot more embarrassing.

She didn't know how to reply, so she did anything a lady should do at a compliment, she said thank you. When she did though, Bucky shook his head.

"You don't have to say thank you for something that's true," Bucky told her. And there were the butterflies again. She tried not to show her surprise at his comment, and hopefully she succeeded. She's always had a good poker face. She grinned at him in attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"Are you this sweet to all the ladies?" Brooklyn teased. Bucky's eyes met hers, and he stopped stretching.

"Only one," he said. Brooklyn almost choked on her spit, and her eyes went wide. Four words went through her head: what in the world. She was probably as red as a tomato right now. Silence stretched between them. She didn't look away from his baby blues, and only then realized how captivating they were. They were bright oceans, with different tones of blue that she could stare into for hours. She had to force herself to look away, and cleared her throat.

"Let's start," she blabbered, quickly turning her back to him. Damn her! In her head, she repeatedly hit herself. She always had to ruin every moment she had with him.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, clearing this throat too. His voice was lower, huskier? Oh dear.

Brooklyn took off, her hair whipping her shoulders as her feet pounded on the ground. Bucky soon caught up to her, they matched each other's pace, their feet simultaneously hitting the ground as they ran next to each other.

They ran in silence for ten minutes, their feet hitting the ground next to each other. Sometimes Bucky would go off in a sprint, shooting past the agent. She would start to sprint too, quickly passing him before they returned to a jogging pace.

Brooklyn was using this time to think. What in the world was happening between her and Bucky? She was an agent. He was a recruit. It was against the rules; she couldn't be anything more with him than platonic.

Her mind was racing.

What happened to the recruit Barnes who was with a new nurse every week? She knew of his womanizing behaviours – they were one of the main conversations between the nurses here at camp. They would talk for hours about how Bucky talked to him, constantly looked at them, and even kissed one of them.

Now that she thought of him and the other nurses, in the past two weeks she hadn't seen him with even one. He didn't talk to them at all anymore. Had he moved on from them?

She hoped he did, and part of her mind smacked herself for that thought. She wasn't aloud to think like that.

Bucky's voice broke Brooklyn from her trance.

"Can we take a break?" he panted. Brooklyn nodded and stopped running as she heaved, putting her hands on her knees in attempt to ease her breaths. She was so deep in thought she really didn't notice how tired she was from the run.

"Jeez, you can run," Bucky wheezed as he put a hand over his chest. "I've never really seen you in action other than that one hand to hand session."

"You surprised?" Brooklyn asked, stretching her back. She turned her head to Bucky, who shook his head.

"Not in the slightest. I've always known deep inside of me that you're faster than me, no matter how small your legs are," Bucky paused and started opening and closing his mouth repetitively. "And," he eventually started, "probably a better fighter too." Brooklyn chuckled and smiled at the man in front of her.

"Well we can't know that until we spar, Bucky," Brooklyn argued, a playful smile on her face.

"Then let's spar," Bucky said. "I promise I'll go easy on you." He winked at her. A smirk involuntarily grew on her face.

"I'll need more than a simple morning run with you to convince me to spar with you outside training," she told him. Bucky bit his bottom lip, and Brooklyn found herself looking as his tongue went over it.

"Maybe two simple morning runs then?" Brooklyn's eyes shot up back to his, and she felt her cheeks get hot. Did he catch her looking? In attempt to save herself, she shrugged.

"I don't know, Barnes," she teased, looking anywhere but at him. "I might need at least three of these before I even consider it." Bucky chuckled, and she decided to meet his eyes again.

"Good thing then that I'm here for another three weeks." Brooklyn smiled. Three weeks. That wasn't too much.

"Yes," she told him, agreeing, even though she didn't really. Three weeks was practically nothing. "Good thing indeed."

As soon as Barnes returned to his barrack after his run with Brooklyn, Hunts all but pounced on him.

"Where'd you go this early in the morning, Barnes?" he asked. Bucky barely acknowledged his question, shrugging and walking past him only to stop at his bed.

"Running," he replied as he took his shirt off. His dog tags jingled as they hit his chest, the cold metal feeling refreshing against his hot skin.

Hunts didn't stop his questioning. "With Kennedy?" Bucky, with his back turned to Hunts, stopped his hunt for another shirt for a spilt second and silently cursed. People saw them. No doubt Hunts was going to spread this like a wildfire.

"What's it to you?" Bucky asked, pulling a clean shirt over his head. He turned to Hunts with an eyebrow raised. "Why do you care so much?"

Hunts scoffed. "I don't," he argued. "I just don't understand how you're getting close to a cold fish like her." Bucky felt a wave of something he didn't quite understand go through him. Anger? Annoyance? He couldn't tell. He let out a forced laugh.

"You're acting jealous," Bucky told him as he pulled out his Kelly green tunic. "I'm sorry she doesn't want to talk to an ass like you, Hunts." Hunts' jaw clenched, and he fisted his hands. Bucky started to button his tunic up, ignoring the growing waves of anger rolling off Hunts.

"And so she decided to talk to you?" Hunts scoffed. A crowd of men was starting to form around them.

"Well yeah," he told Hunts. "I'm practically the only man here who respects her." Jones laughed.

"Respect her?" he howled. "I bet you just want to get her in bed."

Barnes clenched his jaw and his hands formed into fists.

"Trust me," he said with a venomous tone. Jones' eyes widened, and so did Hunts'. This is the first time that he spoke with a voice this angry. "If I wanted Kennedy in bed, I would've had her a long time ago."

There was a silence in the barrack. None of the men moved or spoke up, until one did.

"Come on, Hunts," Johnny, one of the few soldiers Bucky actually grew to like, said. "Let it go." Hunts rolled his eyes before loudly striding out the barracks.

Bucky and Brooklyn ran for a little more than an hour before Bucky left to go back to the barracks. He said he wanted to change and head out for breakfast with the other soldiers, but Brooklyn knew better than to believe him.

When he left, it was around half past seven in the morning, and that was around the time many of the soldiers woke up, even if today was a day of rest. If he stayed any longer a lot of people would've seen them together, and a rumour mill would've started.

It was better if they weren't seen together even more than they already were – people were already talking about what their relationship was. It wasn't reflecting well on her part as an agent.

After Bucky left, Brooklyn moved her fitness session to the indoor gym found on base. She decided it would be a good idea to take out her anger and confusion on the punching bags.

As she walked into the gym, she spotted her favourite bag. It was located on the left side of the gym near the back. That bag had been unofficially labelled hers since she got here, and she missed it. She hadn't used it in a while, but she hoped to make up for all the lost time right now.

According to the clock hanging on the wall above the door to the gym, it was eight in the morning. Brooklyn silently thanked the lord that the gym was empty as she approached the giant bag of sand.

On the wall to her left, she spotted the little cubby that held wrist wraps for sparring. She walked over to it, took a pair, and began wrapping her wrists.

As her fingers fumbled with the long fabric, her mind went back to Bucky.

"What am I doing with him?" she mumbled to herself. She was his agent, his officer. If anything were to happen between them it would be inappropriate, and she could possibly get kicked out of this camp. She was already a woman; she didn't need another reason to add on to why she shouldn't be an agent.

Once her wrists were wrapped, she approached the punching bag again and put her hands against it. Was Bucky even flirting with her? Was he even trying to be anything more than a friend with her? His words filled her mind: "Only one."

She delivered a punch to the bag.

Why was she even worrying so much about him? She was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, and she definitely was not a schoolgirl.

Another punch.

She had to stop whatever feelings she had for him. Even if he were to reciprocate feelings, he could die at war once he was shipped out, and she was not willing to become a war widow.

She delivered three punches to the bag, each harder than the last. Her fingers ached, and her core burned. Spinning, she sent a roundhouse kick to the bag, sending it flying as far as the creaking hinges would let it.

Brooklyn was panting. Damn him. She hated this: all the feelings and the frustration.

She wrapped her hands around the still swaying punching bag, steadying it, and leaned her head against it. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the bag and lifted her fists to her face. She jumped a little on her toes before going to attack the bag again.

This went on for the better part of a half hour before she was interrupted by the voice of a slightly familiar woman.

"What did that bag do to you?" the woman asked. Brooklyn paused mid-punch, panting, and turned to her new guest. It was Agent Carter – Peggy. Brooklyn smiled slightly at the newcomer and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"Good morning," she told her, turning back to her target. Her fists lifted themselves to shield her face, and she punched the bag. She put less effort into her punches, deciding instead to pay attention to the new agent. "How did you sleep last night?"

She heard Peggy approach her, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. "Like a baby, thank you." She came to stand a few feet away from Brooklyn, leaning on a beam a few feet to her right. "What about you?"

Brooklyn panted and paused enough to respond. "Well, but I woke up earlier to go on a run."

"Yes," Peggy replied. "I heard." Brooklyn paused her attack on the sandbag and turned to Peggy.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, wiping the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. Peggy shook her head, and crossed her arms. A sly smile appeared on her face.

"I passed the male barracks this morning while exploring the camp, and I heard a conversation from inside." Brooklyn furrowed her eyebrows and motioned for the Brit to continue.

"Two soldiers seemed to be talking about you. I heard your name. One man was making fun of the other or something like that."

Brooklyn's jaw clenched. "Did you by any chance hear a name in that conversation?"

Peggy pursed her lips and thought for a while. "I think yes, but I can't seem to remember it. Hunter? Hunted? Something along those lines." Brooklyn's jaw clenched even harder and her fingernails dug into her palms.

"Hunts?" she asked. Peggy's face lit up.

"Yes that's it," She replied. Brooklyn's eyes hardened. Peggy noticed. "Who is he to you?"

Brooklyn looked to Peggy. "To me?" she asked, pointing to herself. Peggy nodded, and Brooklyn shook her head. "Nothing. He's one of my soldiers; I train him."

"Was it the second voice in that conversation that means something to you?" Peggy asked. Brooklyn thought for a second. Should she really tell this new agent about her feelings towards her soldier, her recruit? She decided not to.

"No to that too," Brooklyn told her. "He's also one of my soldiers, just a little more tolerable than the others. If you ever meet him then you'll find he'll actually treat you with genuine respect."

"That sounds refreshing," Peggy replied. "How much longer is he here for?"

"Three weeks."

"That's good," she told Brooklyn. "There's still time to appreciate his attitude." Brooklyn nodded her head in agreement.

She looked down at her wrapped hands, and then at Peggy's dress uniform.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" She asked. Peggy shook her head. "Good. I'm going to go take a quick shower while you change out of that uniform into something more comfy and then we'll go fetch some together. Sound good?"

Peggy smiled at Brooklyn and nodded as Brooklyn began to unravel her wrist wraps.

"That sounds lovely."

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