Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

June 14, 1943 – New York City, New York – World Exposition of Tomorrow

Lights and sounds and amazement were all that Steve could comprehend. He'd been saving up for months – and getting monthly rations from Bucky – to be able to make it to the fair.

Bucky had come home and told him off for trying to enlist in another city. However, things really blew up when he learned that it was four cities, not just one. Bucky was always there to protect him, keep him on his toes, and make sure he was taken care of.

"You got anythin' else to say, kid?"

A sharp pain radiated down from Steve's cheek, his vision blurry as he struggled to get up. The stone on the building dug into his back as he put his feet under him and his fists up.

"I…I can do this all day," he wheezed, wondering if his inhaler was still in his pocket or if it'd ended up across the alley.

Another blow had him on his knees, coughing up the blood that had filled his mouth when his teeth cut his cheek.

"Why doncha pick on someone your own size, huh?"

Steve groaned as he got back to his feet, watching a man meticulously pick off the men that were beating on him. Hazy eyes tracked the movement and he admitted that he felt equal parts ashamed and thankful.

"Leave it t' ya t' get yourself in trouble. Sometimes, I think ya like getting' punched."

"I had 'em on the ropes," he blinked before the voice registered. "Buck?"

"Heya, punk."

Steve shook away the memory, grinning at how good Bucky had looked in his Sergeant's uniform. He hadn't thought it was possible that a little scrapper from Brooklyn had risen so quickly in the ranks, but he was proud of him.

Bucky was a sharp shot and an asset to the army. Steve hoped he'd make it to Hawaii within his first year or so, but it was almost two years later and he was still stationed God knows where.

"Steve?"

Steve blinked and looked up, noticing a recruiting station. His blue eyes widened. "Bucky?"

"What're ya doin here, punk?"

"I…" he faltered. What was he doing here? "Just lookin', jerk."

"Sergeant Barnes, would you like to take a break?"

Bucky looked back at the person at the recruiting table and nodded. "That's a fine idea, Private Warren. Be back at eighteen-hundred." He saluted the man and walked towards Steve, motioning for them to walk.

"You're kind o' a big deal, huh?"

Bucky shrugged. "Bein' a sergeant has its perks. What're'ya really doin' here, punk? I thought ya had a class – "

"Hadda get outta Brooklyn. Been lookin' forward to this, though." Steve's eyes were taking in everything around him. It was extraordinary to be in a place with so many great minds. "Howard Stark's supposed to be here, right? Thought it'd be cool to meet 'im."

They walked in silence for a while. It was comforting to have Bucky back for a time, but also disconcerting. Why hadn't he said that he was coming back? Why hadn't he come to see Steve?

"Are ya still tryin' to enlist?"

"Buck – "

The brunet held up his hands in defense. "It's a valid question."

Steve shook his head before running his hand through his hair. "I haven't tried since I saw ya last. I want to – don't give me that look!"

"Ya from Paramus now?" Bucky produced a crinkled paper from his breast pocket. "Ya know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?"

"Ya get your orders?" The blond asked, trying to change the subject from his obviously rejected application.

"The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shippin' out to England first thing tomorrow."

"I should be goin'," Steve said bitterly, scuffing his shoe against the ground purposely.

"Come on, Steve! It's my last night and I don't wanna argue with ya – "

The blond stopped, glaring at his best friend with malice. "Well, it's a fair. I'm gonna try my luck."

"As who? Steve from Ohio?" Bucky scoffed, taking off his hat and smoothing back his hair. "They'll catch ya. Or worse, they'll actually take ya."

"Look, I know ya don't think I can do this."

"This isn't the back alley, Steve. It's war!"

"I know it's a war. Ya don't have to tell me."

Bucky sighed. "Why're'ya so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs, jobs that can – "

"What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal – "

"Yes!"

" – in my little red wagon?"

"Why not?"

"I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky."

"I don't – "

"Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no more right to do any less than 'em. That's what ya don't understand." Steve laughed self-deprecatingly. "This isn't about me."

"Right. 'Cause ya got nothin' to prove."

"Sarge! They need you at the camp."

Bucky and Steve turned at the same time and met the private that had approached them. Sighing, Bucky put his hat back on and smoothed out his uniform. "Don't do anythin' stupid until I get back."

"How can I?" Steve volleyed back. "You're takin' all the stupid with ya."

"You're a punk," he said, wrapping Steve in a hug and squeezing him tight.

"Get to Honolulu if ya can," Steve whispered, feeling a tear slip out of his eye. He coughed and pulled back, giving him a worn smile. "Be careful, jerk."

It was cold and the metal against the thin seat of his worn pants chilled him further. His hands were sweaty and the nurse was whispering something to the doctor in front of him. Steve held his breath when the doctor looked him over.

"Wait here," he said, turning and slipping out of the examination room.

"Is there a problem?" He asked the empty room. His blue eyes traveled to the sign that warned him against lying on his enlistment form and a knot formed in his stomach. He didn't think twice as he got up and grabbed his shoes from the floor when an older man walked into the room with a stern look on his face.

Lord, I'm gonna be arrested, he thought, Bucky's gonna kill me.

The man had a weathered lab coat on and he looked to be late fifties. He was shorter, but dressed well, and when he spoke he had a hint of an accent that Steve couldn't place.

"So, you want to go overseas. Kill some Nazis."

It wasn't a question.

"Excuse me?"

"Dr. Abraham Erskine," the man said, extending his hand to Steve who took it questioningly. "I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve."

"Steve Rogers."

Dr. Erskine looked through the file that the other doctor had left near the sink. He made small noises of approval and clicks of annoyance.

"Where are ya from?"

He looked up. "Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany." He paused. "This…troubles you?"

The blond shook his head. "No."

"Where are you from, Mr. Rogers? Hmm?" He flipped through the file, pausing on each page as he spoke. "Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities."

Steve scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "That might not be the right file."

"No, it's not the exams I'm interested in. It's the five tries." He sat down the file and looked at Steve once more, something different in his eyes. "But you didn't answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?"

"Is this a test?"

"Yes."

"I don't wanna kill anyone. I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from."

Dr. Erskine nodded in approval. "Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is the little guy, hmm? I can offer you a chance." He opened the door of the exam room and motioned for Steve to follow him. "Only a chance."

Steve bubbled with excitement, keeping his hand on his inhaler in his pocket. "I'll take it."

I'm one step closer to Darcy, he thought.

June 18, 1943 – Camp Lehigh, New Jersey

Steve wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

He had been training with men that were twice his size – on a good day – and getting yelled at by a man that all the other guys called Col. Phillips. Dr. Erskine had pulled him aside after a training exercise had left him winded and wheezing, whisking him into what looked like a locker room.

When he heard the clack of heels against the cement floor, he quickly averted his eyes, praying that this wasn't the girls' locker room. He didn't look up until Dr. Erskine cleared his throat.

"Mr. Rogers, please meet Agent Peggy Carter," Dr. Erskine said, introducing him to a pretty, little brunette that had bright red lipstick applied perfectly to her plush mouth. She had a good enough shape, but not nearly as full as what he preferred and she was much taller than girls he was used to.

It was like a kick to the gut how much she reminded him of his girl. Of Darcy.

"How do you do, Mr. Rogers?" She asked, offering a dainty lace-clad hand. "And please, call me Peggy." She looked him over and he shuffled his feet, also noting that she had dark eyes. "You're the one that jumped on the dummy grenade, correct?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck nervously before nodding. "Yes, ma'am."

Peggy smiled and glanced at Dr. Erskine. "He's a bit small, isn't he?"

"It's what's inside that counts," Steve countered haughtily.

"I suppose it is, soldier."

June 21, 1943 – Camp Lehigh, New Jersey

He'd lost count of the hours he'd spent plastered to the small bed that the army had given him in his private room. It'd been five days since he arrived at the base and he'd worked hard to prove himself. Apparently, jumping on a dummy grenade had not been the way to get noticed. Especially since the camp wouldn't seem to let him forget it.

The book that Darcy had sent him nearly four years ago, his engagement ring, and an old shirt of Bucky's were the only things he brought with him other than the clothes on his back. He'd sealed up the apartment nice and tight and he knew no one would bother it. He fiddled with his ring a little, smirking at how no matter what he did; only Bucky was able to get the damned thing off.

"May I?" A knock sounded against the doorframe of his room, showing a nervous Dr. Erskine.

"Yeah," Steve answered, giving the man a smile as he came in, taking a seat in the small chair that was across from the bed.

The doctor looked around for a few moments, a bottle of something in his hands. "Can't sleep?"

"Got the jitters, I guess," he shrugged, twisting his ring around his finger.

A quiet laugh was the reply. "Me, too."

"Can I ask you a question?" Steve was proud that he'd been tramping down on the Brooklyn slant to his words. It made him seem more educated. At least, that's what Peggy had said a few days ago.

"Just one?"

"Why me?"

Dr. Erskine tilted his head. "I suppose that is the only question that matters." He sighed, looking down at the bottle he held. "This is from Augsburg. My city. So many people forget that the first country that the Nazi's invaded was their own." He paused, shaking his head. "You know, after the last war the…my people struggled. They…they felt weak. They felt small. You know that feeling, no? And then Hitler comes along with the marching and the big show and the flags and the…and the…" he waves his hand in exasperation. "And he…he hears of me, my work, and he finds me. And he says 'You. You will make us strong.' Well, I am not interested." Dr. Erskine stood, leaving the bottle near his feet as he paced the small space.

"So, he sends the head of HYDRA – his research division. A brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt. Now, Schmidt is a member of the inner circle and he's ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult and power and destruction. He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the earth, left by the Gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So, when he hears about my formula and what it can do – what it's supposed to do – he cannot resist. He stole the formula and injected himself."

Steve sat in awe for a moment. "Did…did it work?"

"Yes. But there were other effects. The serum…it was not ready, yet. But, more importantly, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So," he said, stopping directly in front of the blond, excitedly gesturing. "Good become great. Bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man that has known power all of his life will lose respect for that power, will abuse it. But a weak man knows the value of strength, of compassion!"

"Thanks…I think."

"Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing." Dr. Erskine met his blue gaze, a weight of a thousand words behind the simple request. "That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man."

A good man.

Darcy had sad after his ma's funeral that he was a good man. That he did the best with what he had and provided for her despite all the obstacles. He'd be that good man. For himself and, more importantly, Darcy.

Steve nodded. "A good man."

June 22, 1943 – Brooklyn, New York

"I know this neighborhood," Steve said, his blue eyes peering out the window. "I got beat up in that alley. And that parking lot. And that damned diner – "

Peggy looked up from the wheel, a small smile tugging at her bright red lips. "Did you have something against running away?"

"You start runnin' and they'll never let you stop. You stand up, push back. Can't say no forever, right?"

She laughed. "I know a little of what that's like. To have every door shut in your face."

"I guess I just don't know why you'd wanna join the army if you're such a beautiful woman. Er – Agent."

"Well, I couldn't stay at home and knit my life away when there's so much to be done," she answered primly, giving him a sly look. "You have no idea how to talk to a woman. Do you?"

Steve thought about Darcy and he shook his head. "I knew how to talk to one woman – "

"Your mother doesn't count."

He laughed. "She wasn't my ma." His fingers went to his ring and he heard Peggy stifle a gasp beside him.

"You're married?"

"Engaged. She's…she's off tourin' with an opera company. We…I last heard from her when she was in Hawaii, a few months before the attack. Haven't…I haven't heard from her since."

"Oh my."

Steve glanced at her and saw tears in her brown eyes. He shrugged, pulling the small photograph out of his shirt pocket and handing it to her, plastering on a smile. "She's my girl. I'm gonna find her when this is all over and bring her home."

Peggy nodded, looking at the woman in the picture before swiping under her eyes. "It will be my pleasure to help you."

June 24, 1943 – Camp Lehigh, New Jersey

"It really worked."

Steve looked up and saw Peggy lingering in the doorway of the exam room. He'd spent the better part of the past couple days being poked and prodded after he was escorted back to Camp Lehigh. He'd met Howard Stark and seen firsthand what kind of genius he was.

To be pulled out of a machine much larger than he originally was to begin with had been entirely discombobulating. He'd shot up to over six feet, he had muscles he hadn't even known was possible – and he'd lived through Bucky's shirtless phase after he'd started working at the docks – and he literally felt like he could do anything.

Gone was the wheezing and the tightness of his chest. His lungs could expand without a violent choking fit. He could reach the top shelf everywhere. He could pick up most anything, heavy or not, and carry it for hours.

Dr. Erskine had given him a chance. A chance to serve his country. A chance to find his girl. His fiancée.

"You look…"

"Different? Yeah, I noticed," Steve said, looking down at the khaki pants that had been issued to him. He cocked his head, a commotion down the hall drawing his attention. "Do you hear that?"

Peggy blinked. "Hear what?"

Yelling erupted and Steve flew out of the room, chasing down the noise.

"Steve! Come back!"

June 25, 1943 – Austria – HYDRA Facility

"I understand you found him."

"See for yourself."

The Sirena's eyes were focused on the metal table in front of her as her handler had instructed. The metal of her bracelets glinted beneath the tight black Kevlar of her uniform and it dimly registered that it matched the steel of the table.

"I don't see why you need to concern yourself. I can't imagine he'll succeed," her handler said. "Again."

"His serum is the Allies' only defense against this power we now possess. If we take that away from them, then our victory is assured." There were footsteps before the man spoke again. "Your serum has been most enlightening. Your project has been invaluable." A scrape of chair legs against the flooring. "Sirena."

She stood at attention. Her boots smacked together, her gaze remaining on the floor. A finger under her jaw caused her head to tilt upwards and her gaze focused to the left, on her handler.

"She's a pretty devushka, no?" He moved her head to the side, smiling in appreciation. "Like what the Americans paint on their planes. How old is she?"

"At the time of her injection, she was eighteen years old." Her handler stumbled, his face a mask of worry. "Currently, she should be twenty-five years old, but the serum has halted any and all aging."

The man's eyes widened. "She will never age?"

"One of the side effects of the serum. I had only tested it on animals previously and I attempted to duplicate Erskine's serum from your DNA…there were too many uncontrolled substances." Her handler shook his head. "I'm not sure how it will affect her in time."

"Interesting. How long did she take to break?"

"Five years." A pause. "She will be an asset to HYDRA. She has been trained and she will be ready for her mission shortly."

The man chuckled. "Ah, yes, Sirena. Luring men to their deaths. What an apt name, Dr. Zola."

October 29, 1943 – Italy

Steve sighed and put his head in his hands, scratching at the knit of his costume. He wondered if this was how Darcy felt in her getup for the circus. He didn't like being on display, he didn't like the singing and dancing.

"And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing monkey?" Peggy asked, popping her lipstick back in her purse and walking to the other side of the small tent across from him. "You were meant for more than this, you know?"

When Dr. Erskine had been shot, that meant that his serum died along with him. Howard had begged Steve to stay in New York, to allow him to draw the blond's blood and try to dissect his DNA, but he couldn't. Steve had a chance to make things a bit more manageable for the front lines, even if that meant dancing for war bonds.

"You know, for the longest time I dreamt about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country." He gave a self deprecating laugh. "I finally get everything I wanted and I'm wearing tights."

The loud wail of an ambulance caught his attention and he watched as wounded soldiers were taken into the makeshift medical tent, battered and bruised with more bandages than he could count.

"They look like they've been through hell."

Peggy nodded in agreement. "These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned."

Johann Schmidt was becoming a thorn in Steve's side quite literally. As Hitler's right hand, he planned every battle to his strengths and that was one of the many reasons that Steve worked so damned hard to sell war bonds – even if he looked ridiculous.

"The men in the audience tonight contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh," Peggy contained sadly. "The rest were killed or captured."

"The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shippin' out to England first thing tomorrow."

Steve's breath caught. "The one-oh-seventh?"

"What?"

"Come on!" He grabbed Peggy's hand and dragged her to a larger tent where he knew he'd find what he needed.

Col. Phillips looked up from his papers, waving off an aid that hovered anxiously. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan. And what is your plan today?"

"I need the casualty list from Azzano."

The older man huffed a laugh. "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Steve grunted in frustration. "I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the hundred and seventh."

Col. Phillips pointed to Peggy with a grim look on his face. "You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy."

"Please, tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R…"

"I can spell," the colonel said, rolling his eyes. "I have signed more of these condolence letters than I care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."

"What about the others?" Steve asked. "Are you planning a rescue mission?"

"Yeah! It's called winning the war. They're thirty miles behind the lines. Through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save! But I don't expect you to understand that because you're just a chorus girl."

Steve straightened up, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I think I understand just fine, sir."

"Well, then understand it somewhere else."

He grimaced and gave a tight node before leaving the tent. He didn't need his super hearing to know that Peggy was less than three steps behind him and when he felt her hand on his arm, he whirled around to face her. "What?" He snapped.

"What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?" She bit out, her hands on her hips in exasperation.

"If that's what it takes."

"You heard the colonel, your friend is most likely dead – "

"You don't know that."

"Even so – "

"You told me that you thought I was meant for more than this," he said, gesturing to his costume. "Did you mean that?"

"Every word."

Steve took a deep breath. "Then help me get my best guy."

She seemed to weigh her options for a moment, her teeth worrying her red lip. It felt like an hour before she finally sighed. "Yes, all right. I'll contact Howard. He'll know what to do."

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~Grace