The new recruits arrived at Camp Lehigh the next day.

There were at least a hundred of them, not that Jane was keeping count. They marched in straight lines, stood at attention, and never spoke unless spoken to. They screamed their 'sir, yes sirs' loud enough to hear from space. They never blinked when the drill sergeant got in their faces, saliva flying as he dressed them down like the worthless useless maggots they were.

They wore identical helmets and uniforms, to the point of being clones of each other. Jane saw one man identified as Private Jenkins in the morning, and by afternoon was positive he had answered to two more names.

Most of them were average as far as men in their twenties and thirties went. A few appreciative stares as Jane walked across the compound were par for the course. She continued her ritual of disassociation until word of Ms. Cinderhouse's antisocial personality spread. It was the best she could do now that Peggy was taking an active role in training and needed someone to follow her around and take notes.

"Squadron B is making progress, but Squadrons C and E continue to fall behind." Peggy walked briskly around the soldiers performing their jumping jacks. Jane hurried after her, pen flying across the page. "Squadron C's average time completing the obstacle course has fallen from three minutes and twenty-three seconds to four minutes and twelve seconds. Recommending immediate action and a swift reprimand for those with the lowest times. There are at least two outliers dragging the numbers down. Are you getting all this, Jane?"

"Uh… could you go back to the part about the obstacle course please?"

Peggy sighed, and in that moment, Jane swore she'd never badger Darcy about not keeping up again.

The first day of training passed uneventfully. Once Jane stifled her panicked reaction to any and all interaction, she found the recruits fell under two distinct categories. The stone-faced soldiers who understood they would be killing in the name of America, and the cocky shits with dreams of becoming war heroes. The ratio was about eighty-twenty. Most of these guys seemed acutely aware they'd spend the next few years straddling the line between life and death and acted accordingly. Of course, that didn't make the few cocky shits any less annoying.

Jane was in the middle of writing the morning report. A soldier assigned to clean the mess hall was just finishing his work. He carried a box big enough to obstruct his vision. He took slow, measured steps to make up for his lack of sight. If it weren't for a leg directly in his path, he would've made it without any problems. He stumbled over and dropped the box. Metal pieces clanged around inside as it came dangerously close to toppling over. The soldier rolled onto his back, groaning in apparent pain. Jane wouldn't be surprised. He was kind of small.

"Whoops, sorry," said the snickering recruit who'd tripped him. He was much larger and stronger. He should've been the one carrying that box.

Jane yelled: "Private Hodge. Do you require a word with Agent Carter?"

Hodge stiffened, straightening his back and dropping the smirk. If there was one thing Jane would give Gilmore Hodge, it was that he knew when to show respect for authority. Even if it had to be beaten into him. "Sorry, Ma'am. It was an accident."

"Yes, it certainly looked like you accidentally stuck your leg out and accidentally tripped him," said Jane. "If he'd been injured, it wouldn't be so funny."

"If he'd been injured I'd have done him a favor," Hodge muttered.

Knowing a lost cause when she saw one, Jane turned to the fallen soldier. He'd gotten to his feet and was now struggling with the box. "Do you need help?"

"I got it," he said, bending his knees for extra leverage. It paid off when the box left the ground, but he almost lost his balance. Jane grabbed the other end of the box to steady it. "Thanks…"

Jane backed up to give him room. "Rogers, right? Sorry, I'm still learning everyone's names."

"That's me," he said. "I didn't think anyone around here cared about names."

"They do when it's time to start yelling," Jane quipped. "I'm Ms.-"

"Cinderhouse, I know," said Rogers. "You're Agent Carter's assistant."

Jane was impressed. "You've noticed."

He shrugged. "I see you around. I don't have time to learn names either but yours is pretty distinct."

"Yes, it is," Jane muttered, kicking herself again for what a stupid name her stupid brain had farted out. 'You couldn't have just called yourself Jane Smith, could you?'

"And if you don't mind me saying," he shifted his weight between his feet, "it's nice to be taller than someone for once."

He had maybe half an inch on her. A full inch if she was being generous. Nevertheless, Jane smiled. "I'll make sure to wear my flats tomorrow. Work hard, Private."

"I will."

The drill sergeant barked Rogers' name and he rushed off to meet him. Jane went in search of Peggy and found her leading a group of soldiers in their daily one hundred jumping jacks. It was like a high school gym class to the extreme. Jane pitied every single one of them. Peggy took Jane's report and skimmed the first two pages. "Got all the numbers I asked for?"

"Everything's there," Jane said proudly. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

"You're improving," said Peggy.

They drove a few miles out in the Jeep, Peggy up front with the driver while Jane organized folders in the back. In the distance, the drill sergeant shouted at soldiers as they jogged down the base in two by two formation, moving in perfect tandem so no one ever outpaced the rest of the group.

Only one man lagged behind. He ran at a snail's pace, his face red from exertion. His helmet was huge on his head, but Jane recognized him at once. Among his six foot tall, broad-shouldered comrades, he stuck out in the worst of ways. "I hate to say it, but he doesn't seem like army material."

Peggy had also ceased working, and she watched Rogers with a curious expression. "Dr. Erskine recruited him personally. I'm sure he had his reasons."

"For Project Rebirth?" asked Jane. She had clearance at this point and Peggy had given her a rundown of what Camp Lehigh and the SSR were really about. Jane had taken the news in stride and kept to herself the one huge success they'd have. If Peggy thought she knew something, she was smart enough not to ask.

"Perhaps," said Peggy, pointedly vague as their driver sat well within hearing range. "We're in the process of choosing a test subject."

'I know who it won't be,' Jane thought as Rogers nearly tripped on a rock and fell even further behind.

"Squad halt!" The drill sergeant yelled, drawing their attention to the troops as he announced they were at the halfway point. Jane winced sympathetically for the men, especially Rogers. He was doubled over several feet behind the rest, struggling to catch his breath. When the sergeant issued his challenge to get a flag down from the pole, Rogers was the only one not to step on someone else's head to reach it.

'They should just remove the latch,' Jane thought as Hodge made it halfway up the pole before sliding down on his ass. What a shame.

The sergeant agreed as he ordered the men back into formation. Everyone obeyed save for Rogers, who continued studying the flagpole despite the threat of a swift reprimand if he failed to follow orders.

"Rogers," the drill sergeant screamed. "I said fall in!"

Rogers pulled out the latch instead. The pole slammed to earth, the once proud flag laying limp in the dirt. Still breathing heavily, Rogers untied the knot and calmly handed the stunned drill sergeant the flag before climbing into the jeep next to Jane. She moved her papers to give him room. Her own surprise had yet to fade and appeared as a grin she couldn't drop.

"Nice work," she whispered.

"Thanks."

She just hoped for his sake he wouldn't get blasted and thrown out on his ass for such a smart aleck move later. Judging from the blooming admiration in Peggy's eyes as she glanced at Steve through the rearview mirror, that might not be a problem.

Jane met Dr. Erskine the next day. She hadn't expected to. It seemed like an average day of training with Peggy keeping wannabe heroes in line and leading them through the hellish medieval torture known as push-ups. Jane kept to the side by the supply trucks, hidden from view. Standing close to bombs and grenades wasn't exactly fun, but she'd already contaminated the past with her future-ness enough for one day. Best to wait until tomorrow for more.

She heard Philips coming, speaking with an older man in a neat suit and bowler hat. "You're not really thinking about picking Rogers, are you?"

"I am more than just thinking about it," the other man said with a heavy German accent. "He is the clear choice."

Jane nearly dropped her pen. Were they talking about Rogers? The same Rogers out there fighting to do more than three push-ups?

"Throw me a bone here, Hodge passed every test we gave him. He's big, he's fast, he obeys orders. He's a soldier."

Jane cringed. Hodge as Captain America? Great idea. Might as well surrender to the Nazis right now.

"He's a bully," Erskine countered.

"And a glory hound," said Jane. She couldn't help herself and she didn't regret it even when Phillips levied a glare her way.

"Keep to your own work, Ms. Cinderhouse," he said.

Erskine gave her a nod and a grateful smile. She looked down at her notes and pretended to write something. Peggy had the men doing jumping jacks now. She was supposed to log how many each man did, but she'd missed the first few and those numbers no longer mattered once a small object rolled at the troops' feet, and Phillips shouted: "GRENADE!"

Jane dove under the car, papers flying everywhere. It was a kneejerk reaction and Jane was saved from feeling cowardly by how quickly all the big strong army men ducked for cover, Hodge at the lead. Once again, Rogers was the only one not to follow the pack. No, he ran at the grenade, and then he covered it with his frail, skinny body as though he was made of steel.

"Get back!" he shouted at Peggy when she tried to approach. He curled so tight around the grenade he could disappear into himself. Seconds passed and when Rogers wasn't reduced to a million gory pieces, he sat up, staring confusedly at the stunned Phillips, the smugly satisfied Erskine, and the absolutely glowing Peggy. "Is this a test?"

"So Rogers is the one we're staking everything on," Peggy spoke seemingly to herself as they walked across the training grounds long after the sun had set.

Everyone was in bed, including Phillips for once. The only reason they remained awake was so Jane could transcribe a ten page letter to Peggy's direct superiors back in England. She'd had trouble finding the right words. 'We're going to turn some random scrawny American soldier into Superman' is a bit hard to swallow.

"Unless they change their minds, I guess so," said Jane.

Peggy shook her head. "We have final approval and we're going ahead with the procedure first thing tomorrow morning."

"That soon?"

"Erskine doesn't want to wait, and neither does the General. Or the president."

Jane pursed her lips. "We have a lot riding on this."

"More than you know," Peggy said, turning an intense gaze on Jane. "Or do you?"

There was a line of conversation Jane had dreaded since forever. Peggy had been careful to avoid going there, though Jane knew she was curious. It was only human. If Jane found a time traveler from seventy years in the future, she'd have several questions. A whole list, in fact. At least ten pages long and starting with 'Do I prove my theory and create an Einstein-Rosen bridge?'

"I can't tell you much," she admitted. "I shouldn't tell you anything, but even if I could, I'm not much of a history buff. I only know as much as the general public."

"This operation is top-secret," Peggy said with a hint of disappointment. "However, if we successfully create an army, it'll be impossible to keep it under wraps."

"There's definitely going to be at least one super soldier," Jane said. "I don't know his real name, but he's kind of a legend in my time. My dad had a friend who collected memorabilia. An entire room in his house was dedicated to Captain America posters, figurines, trading cards-"

"Captain America?"

Jane's eyes bugged out. "Oh no, have you not-"

"I've already heard it," Peggy said with a soothing pat on Jane' shoulder. "It's one of the names the senators backing the project suggested. They want to emphasize our first successful subject as a symbol of American freedom."

"Well, they'll definitely get their wish," Jane said.

"But you don't know for sure it will be Rogers."

Jane shrugged. "Unless we have a room full of backup test subjects, it seems likely."

"Rogers is our only approved subject at the moment," said Peggy. "If tomorrow is a success, Dr. Erskine will begin scouting for more."

"Let's hope Hodge isn't one of them."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't think any of these men fit Erskine's criteria," said Peggy thoughtfully. "Are you certain there will only be one?"

"As far as I know," said Jane. "Maybe Rogers is the face of the operation while the other guys do the dirty work."

"He seems more like the type to get dirty himself," Peggy remarked. Jane had to agree. Nobody would be forgetting that grenade anytime soon. "I can see why Erskine picked him. He might not be the kind of man Phillips wanted, but his determination and cleverness cannot be denied."

Jane grinned cheekily. "Or his boyish good looks, right?"

Peggy tripped on a rock but caught herself before she fell on her face. "Er- yes. He'll make for a good cover photo."

So there it was. A chink in Agent Peggy Carter's armor. Jane wasn't a boy crazy high school girl, but after a month at Peggy's side, it was nice knowing that British aloofness only went so far. "Just a cover photo?"

"I didn't join the war to get a date," Peggy said. "Rogers is a good soldier and nothing more. I hope you're not thinking of starting something with him."

"Me? No way," Jane said, flashing back to a tall, dark, and handsome man with brilliant blue eyes and a winning smile. Her stomach flip-flopped. "He's not my type… but you know, I've seen the way you look at him."

"Yes, the same way I look at the other soldiers," Peggy said firmly. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me about the future? Something which doesn't involve my romantic life?"

"In 1994, I win first prize the eighth grade science fair with a scale model of the Andromeda galaxy made of toothpicks, and in 1987 I spill fruit punch on the living room carpet and the stain never comes out."

"That sounds lovely," Peggy said. "Anything about Rogers?"

Jane thought hard about that war documentary, what little of it she'd seen. "He saves a bunch of people, gets a bunch of medals, goes on a bunch of secret missions and-"

Peggy furrowed her brow as Jane abruptly stopped talking. "And?"

There was no good way to answer that, or even to continue Jane's thought. No appropriate way to explain seventy years cryogenically frozen after dying to win a battle. Now that this one important detail was in Jane's head, it would never go away. She felt it in her bones. From now on, it would linger in the back of her mind every time she looked at Steve Rogers. Funny how optimism could so easily become anxiety.

"Jane," Peggy said, louder. "Is something wrong?"

Jane put on a brave face. "Sorry, I just remembered I forgot some paperwork." She moved back into the darkness. "I'll go grab it real quick. You don't have to wait up."

Jane retraced their steps, grateful when Peggy didn't call after her. The base had an eerie feel at night, with no sun in the sky or drill sergeants screaming. If Jane believed in ghosts, she'd think the tree branches shadowed on the walls were gnarled hands beckoning her. She had nowhere to go except forward, so she strolled between the circular buildings where exhausted recruits enjoyed their precious few hours of rest before the next day dawned.

One still had the lights on. Rogers and Dr. Erskine sat across from each other on two beds, a bottle of wine in Erskine's lap. The windows were locked tight, blocking out their conversation. Jane got the gist of it through body language. Rogers was nervous, as anyone in his position would be, and Erskine was trying to encourage him. It was nice of him to give Rogers a pep talk, almost fatherly in a way. Jane remembered the last conversation she had with Erik and it made her heart hurt. If she didn't find a way home, she'd never see him again.

She watched Erskine pour himself a drink. Of course, he didn't offer any to Steve. No fluids until after the procedure. If it was successful (he would inevitably be frozen for seventy years), he'd probably need a whole bottle. Jane moved away from the window and walked for another minute. Peggy would be in bed by now unless she decided to hide and catch Jane trying to avoid her.

Jane returned to the front of the encampment. The door squeaked open and Dr. Erskine stepped out before she had a chance to think about hiding. He seemed no less surprised to see her than she was of him, but recovered and smiled in his good-natured way. "Good evening, Ms. Cinderhouse."

Jane nodded. "Dr. Erskine. Forgive me, I was just on my way to bed."

"No need to explain. Though I'm surprised to see you up so late."

"With all due respect, I could say the same to you."

He chuckled. He still had the wine bottle. "I suppose you're right."

Jane's eyes were drawn to the door as all the lights went out. Steve was in there, all alone for what might be his final night on Earth. He had no idea what was in store for him: if he would live to become a hero or die a failed experiment. No one knew what would happen. No one except Jane.

Intrusive thoughts about Steve and what he might look like encased in ice flitted through her thoughts like a swarm of bees. Dr. Erskine's room was in the same building as Peggy's, and Jane kept two steps ahead of him. He never saw her pained expression. As they reached the door, her mouth moved on its own.

"Dr. Erskine?" He paused, watching her struggle between kicking herself and grasping for words. "I just um… I have a... good feeling about tomorrow."

As vague as it was, Erskine didn't say so. "Thank you, Ms. Cinderhouse. I have a good feeling, too."

That was the end of the conversation, but for as long as she lived Jane would never forget the surety of his words and the hope in his voice.

Jane watched the commencement of Project Rebirth from a viewing booth with Peggy on one side of her and a bunch of politicians and army officials on the other. Introductions had been made on the stairs when they arrived with Rogers (Jane hid in the corner until Peggy finished with the bureaucrats). In the booth, no one wanted to talk until the procedure was over.

Rogers entered the pod five feet, four inches tall and just under one hundred pounds. Jane had found all this, along with a laundry list of his medical conditions, in Peggy's case files. If someone read it without meeting Rogers first, they'd balk at the idea of putting him on the battlefield, let alone in a supersoldier program. Jane herself couldn't shake the niggling doubt even now. Logically, there was no way Project Rebirth could work no matter how much money the Government threw at them or how ingenious Erskine's formula was. The science was almost as absurd as a bridge between galaxies.

After ninety seconds of pure agony for Rogers, he exited the chamber a foot and a half taller with a body the Greek gods would envy. How's that for science?

Peggy practically flew down the stairs as Erskine and Howard helped Rogers down, with Jane close behind. He stood on his own without trouble, looking out at a people who must have shrunk to his perceptions. He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. His heaving chest was huge to a hypnotic degree, not to mention his massive arms and chiseled abs. Jane would be lying if she said she didn't stare.

She wasn't alone in the sentiment either. It was clearly taking all of Peggy's willpower not to jump him. "How do you feel?"

Rogers looked down at Peggy. "Taller."

Jane pretended not to see Peggy grope him before shoving a shirt over his head. "You look taller."

"You're going to be taller than a lot of people now," Jane grinned. 'You're also going to be frozen for seventy years. You're going to be frozen and I can't tell you or anyone else about it-' "Shut up…"

"What was that?" Peggy asked.

"Nothing," Jane said quickly, and their moment of triumph continued uninterrupted for five glorious seconds.

Then the booth exploded.

A/N: Bucky's back in the next chapter. See you then! ;)