Disclaimer ~ I do not own Captain America or any of its characters, only the ones you don't recognise from the films or the comics. Unfortunately, everything else belongs to Marvel.

Chapter 1

19th October, 1971 …

Marina clung to the pole, her arm tensed to stop herself from toppling over every time the bus jolted from side to side. Her knuckles were bone white from the effort. Finally, her stop arrived and she fought through the crowd, stumbling over bags and feet, and almost landed flat on her face as she stepped down onto the pavement. The doors closed behind her and the bus sped off, leaving her choking on a cloud of fumes.

As the coughing subsided, she brushed the dust and dirt left from the exhaust off of her dress, fluffed up her springy curls and reapplied her lipstick before heading into the building which towered over her. Heads turned as her heels clicked loudly in the silent lobby. She marched past the ticket desk, giving the clerk a curt nod as she did, and straight on to her exhibit, stopping in front of the photos. She admired the faces, blown up so much that you could see almost every pore, every imperfection. She had grown used to them by now. Their names were familiar, and they rolled off her tongue naturally.

"Marina!" She turned and smiled.

"Good morning, Charlie."

He stood beside her so that their shoulders were near to touching. "Admiring your work?"

"Immensely." She pursed her lips. "Harold will be very proud. If I'm lucky, I might get given another exhibit to work on as well."

Charlie shook his head, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I doubt it. He knows you're very attached to this one. I mean, who wouldn't be? It's the exhibit of the year. One of a kind!"

She nodded, muttering, "Maybe so." As she turned away from the pictures, she continued bitterly, "Or he doesn't think I can handle the pressure. Hence why he gave me such a huge exhibit to work on in the first place. He wanted me to mess it up so that he could have an excuse to fire me."

"That's not true. He gave it to you because he trusts you more than anyone else. You know more about this subject than anyone I've ever met, though I can't imagine why."

"You clearly don't know Harold the way I do. He didn't want to hire me in the first place, and if it weren't for my father, he wouldn't have done."

"You don't have much faith in him, do you?"

She let out a mirthless laugh. "No. I'm very familiar with his opinion on women and what they should and shouldn't be doing, and in his eyes, this is something that I should not be doing. His goal was to prove that I'm useless and pathetic and instead of wasting my time trying to make something of myself, I should be getting married and having children, staying home and cooking dinners like a good little wife."

Her eyes darkened as she continued, "Now, if I know Harold, and I do, he'll do whatever he can to make sure that I don't get the credit for this. He'll probably tack your name on the end of it and say that it was all you. My name won't even be mentioned."

"I'll tell the truth. I'll say it wasn't me."

"No, you won't. Because you'll lose your job. It's the way things go, Charlie. And maybe one day, I'll be able to do something which will be recognised." Her eyes got that little sparkle in them which Charlie loved so much. "I'll be important and respected and no one will forget my name. That's my plan."

"You'll do it someday, Marina."

She shrugged her shoulders, grinned and replied, "Yeah, I know. Now, we should probably get to the office, because it's early and I could really do with some coffee."

Charlie beamed at her and announced, "I've already made you some. It'll still be hot. Two spoons of coffee, one sugar, tiny amount of milk, right?"

"Yes, that's right." The pair made their way to the office, where Marina shrugged off her thick coat and laid it over the back of her chair. Files were spread out over her desk, along with floor plans, photos and multiple empty mugs. She had spent many sleepless nights here when trying to arrange the exhibit. She was determined to get it finished to the best of her abilities, to prove her uncle wrong.

"I have to leave early tonight. Preferably around five. It's regrettable, but I have an appointment."

"About the headaches?"

"Yes. They've been getting progressively worse. Last week, I had a seizure and had to be put into hospital. They ran tests, so I need to get the results today."

Charlie laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "With any luck, it's nothing. Just the stress of the job, right?"

She nodded. "Yes. Now, I've been looking at ways of giving more information from the exhibit in a way that's both interesting and educational ..."

As Marina entered the doctor's office, she realised that her hands were shaking uncontrollably, but she took a deep breath and pushed open the door, her mouth forming a little red 'o' as she regarded the two men in suits sitting on her side of her doctor's desk.

"Doctor Woods, is this a bad time? I thought we had an appointment, and the nurse said to come in -"

The elderly doctor stood, shaking his head and gesturing with one hand for her to sit. "Of course it isn't a bad time. No, Miss Larsen, these men are here for you. I needed a second opinion on your results and they are experts in this particular field." Marina took a seat, tentatively glancing at the two strangers. "My dear, I am so very sorry to tell you, your results have come back and, well, they've revealed that you have a brain tumour. And it's a rather large one."

"Are -" She swallowed hard. "... What are you trying to tell me?"

"It's inoperable. For me, at least. However, these gentlemen may have a way of fixing your problem."

One of the men stood. He was short, stout man with a round face and circular, wire rimmed glasses. "Miss Larsen, my name is Doctor Arnim Zola. I work for a company specialising in the kind of illness which you have developed." His accent was thick, and from the sounds of it, German. "Your results have shown something rather … unusual, shall we say? A unique blood type, one which we have never before discovered. More research is required, and we would like your permission to look into it, while we search for a cure for your illness."

She shook her head, her throat feeling tight. "I can't breathe," she choked out. "I think I'm going to be sick." Within seconds, Zola had handed her the bin beside Doctor Woods' desk and she promptly proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach. Accepting the tissue she was offered, she wiped around her mouth and sniffed hard.

"What do I need to do?" she asked.

I know this is a really short chapter, but there will be more introduced about Marina's backstory later on. I didn't want to just slam you with all the information. I would like to thank the following people for reviewing/following/favouriting this fic:

BelieveInMe134

suzie0821

tibreezy

kellyhorse

MarauderElm22151

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Tomohawk Girl

aReapersGlasses

I haven't actually finished chapter 2 yet, but I'll try to sort that when I got home from work today, and failing that, tomorrow.

Beth xxx