T W O

02. | steven rogers.
new and old faces

genevieve.

•

I GROGGILY get out of bed at the sound of horns outside. Oh, how I've missed that sweet sound. Might not be the greatest wake up call, but it certainly keeps you awake.

I quickly throw on my dark green SSR uniform, buttoning up the golden buttons and adjusting my golden pins. I make sure that my hair looks semi-okay, swiftly fixing a few dark brunette curls. I stare at myself in the mirror, my piercing green eyes staring back. My normal light olive skin is oddly pale, just proving how much I've been inside recently. That is certainly going to change soon.

"You almost ready, Gen?" Peggy asks me sweetly from her worn vanity in the corner.

"Are you?" I inquire, turning to face her with a hand on my hip. She is shoving the cap of a red lipstick on to the small container, gently setting it on the vanity counter. She glances at me over her shoulder, a smile spreading across those red lips.

"Yes," she says.

We step out of our bunker together. The bright morning sun shines in my eyes, causing them to squint. Peggy strides quickly next to me, scanning the camp. Soldiers sprint across the dirt as commanders bark at them to catch up. I smile at the sight. My eyes stop at a few soldiers a little ways away from us. All tall, fit for war, except one. He seems like a good man, if only I could deduce his front. I spot Dr. Abraham Erskine and Colonel Phillips near them. Colonel yells, "roll call!" and they all line up in perfect formation. Dr. Erskine meets my gaze, quickly waving. His eyes crinkle from a smile underneath his round glasses.

"Hello, Doctor," I greet politely.

"Oh please," he laughs, his voice low in a whisper. "Call me Abraham, Genevieve. It has only taken you two years."

"Yes sir," I smile.

Abraham and Peggy greet each other as I say hello to Colonel.

"Edwards," Colonel Phillips grunts with the usual scowl on his face. "Nice seeing you again."

"And you, Colonel," I grin. Just as strict and sociopathic as I remember. How lovely.

"All right, soldiers," he calls after the usual speech. "It would be my honor to introduce you all to Doctor Genevieve Edwards."

"Ooo, he remembered!" I exclaim joyfully. I clasp my hands together, quickly taking a gander at the row of soldiers. Just being here has returned me to my happy-go-lucky self. "All right boys, I'm here to just quickly run an inspection on Dr. Erskine's behalf, so to make it easier for you all make sure that you are mentally prepared for the outcome." I sneer, stepping across the dirt in my brown boots. "Attention!" I shout at them. They all improve their posture, standing upright and putting their hands by their sides and putting their heels together.

All except one.

It's one smug soldier that hunches down in a comfortable state, staring up at the sky and whistling. God, this has to be the Hodge kid.

"Uh, kid," I say, "attention."

"Hm?" he asks. "Oh, yes, ma'am."

"Doctor," I correct. "Or would you prefer Agent?"

He sets his jaw, rolling his eyes. His dark orbs scan me up and down, slowing at my chest and waist, but fully halting once they reach my shoes. "Not very ladylike, if you ask me," he scoffs. "Like those pants."

I cross my arms defiantly, glancing down at my matching green army pants. "I didn't ask you, and this is my definition of ladylike, soldier."

"You should take after Miss Carter," Hodge states. "Wearing heels gives you a good appearance. Looks like you care."

"Well I don't. I honestly don't give a damn about what other people think," I spit. "Besides, heels aren't the slightest bit comfortable."

"Women are supposed to wear them though."

"Actually, high heels were invented for male butchers so that their shoes didn't get soaked in blood," I grin. "Do your research, Hodge."

I feel the smaller soldier smiling at me, even though I haven't even glanced at his face yet.

"They're worn by women now, so follow your code," Hodge growls.

I sneer, glancing at Peggy. "Hey, Peg, can I see your shoes?"

Peggy returns my grin, nodding. She knows what I'm going to do. "Of course, Dr. Edwards."

I shift my gaze back to Hodge. "Take off your shoes, Hodge," I demand.

"Excuse me?" Hodge asks, obviously oblivious to my actions.

"You heard me, soldier," I snarl. "Take off your shoes. That's an order!"

Hodge reluctantly unlaces and slips off his combat boots, setting his socked feet in the dirt. I snatch his shoes from his hands, swapping them for Peggy's black heels, and handing them to him with a sneer.

"You are required to wear those for the rest of the day, Hodge," I order. "All through training and breaks until nightfall. And if I see that you have taken them off, you will be forced to run sixty extra laps for each second I see them off. Understood?"

Colonel and Dr. Erskine as well as the majority of the other soldiers chuckle.

"Yes, Doctor," he mutters, sliding the heels on his reeking large feet. It's a little harsh, I'll admit, but this smart-ass needs to learn. "These are way too small, Doctor. You mind getting me some bigger ones, doll?"

I've had it. I take my foot and kick him in the crotch, sending him back and lying on the dirt. I pull him up by his collar, bringing his face a few inches from mine.

"If you thought that Agent Carter or Colonel Phillips were bad, you've got another thing coming," I spit. "I'm going to be your worst nightmare, Hodge." I throw him back on to the dirt where he winces and wheezes. "Be thankful I only kicked you. Now, get up."

He glares up at me, pulling the left heel on to his foot as he attempts to stand.

I make my way to the start of the line of grinning soldiers, a smirk still on my face. I begin with the first soldier, scanning him up and down.

"Too self conceited," I mumble, moving on to the next man. They all have some flaw that would destroy the project, whether it's doubt or a sensitive spot. I swiftly move across the line, stating my analysis of each soldier under my breath.

"Asshat," I mutter, passing by one of the soldiers who glances down at Hodge with a concerned expression. "Asshole," I say, passing by Hodge without even glancing down at him. I almost pass by a shorter man next to a frightened man with round glasses.

"My god, you're Steven Rogers," I muse, turning on my heel to face him. His cheeks go a little pink as he glances up at me. I can't break eye contact. Just staring into his bright blue orbs through locks of his blond hair tells me so much. Determined, humble, sweet, kind, lighthearted, persistent, strong — the perfect man. And that's not just my opinion about him fitting into the program.

"Abraham, you were right," I mumble, still gazing at Steven. "You were absolutely right."

Steven smiles at me, causing my heart to flutter. I quickly turn away, hiding my flushing cheeks. Nope. Don't feel anything. Just another soldier and nothing more.

"All right," I say, clearing my throat, "my job's done. C-Colonel." I glance at Colonel Phillips, allowing him to take over. I reside next to Peggy, who comfortably stands in Hodge's large combat boots. I continue to stare down at the light colored dirt, listening to Abraham's pen glide across the paper inside a small notebook. I feel Peggy smiling at me, but I refuse to look up at her. As the soldiers scamper off, she nudges my shoulder.

"You all right there, Gen?" she asks me sweetly. She is concerned, I can sense it.

"Hm?" I hum, trying to make my lies seem as truthful as possible. "Oh yeah, I'm good. Why do you ask?"

"You seemed awfully flustered because of Rogers," she grins.

"What are you talking about?"

"The way he looked at you, impressed and inspired, it made you break that hard shell of yours for a moment."

"My veneer didn't crack," I retort. "I'm the psychologist here, and I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, the psychologist who seems to notice everyone's movements and thoughts except her own," Peggy responds strictly. She lowers her tone, "Genevieve, I know you. I know how react to certain things."

I clench my jaw, refusing to reply.

She exhales an exasperated sigh. "Well, what you did to Hodge was hysterical, by the way."

"Thank you," I smile. "Just had to knock as much sense as he can comprehend into him, which isn't that much."

We quickly follow the soldiers. I speak with Doctor Erskine, who seems to think the same as Peggy, but doesn't mention it. We all converse over our thoughts of Steven Rogers being the super soldier, the one and only recruit for this project.

[•]

The soldiers (even Hodge) all seem to do well on each and every course they have to go through except Steven Rogers. He struggled on the rope course, where he fell back with his feet tangled in the ropes. Then Hodge used the heel of Peggy's high heel to break one of the wood panels holding the barbed wire up to trap Steven. Now he's struggling to keep up with the rest of the group as they run.

They all stop at the flagpole, where they're told all about how if they climb it they get a ride back. Peggy and I sit in the truck, turning around to face the gaggle of soldiers. I sit in the driver's seat and Peggy is in the passenger, both of us scribbling down notes in notebooks.

"I bet you Hodge will make it," Peggy groans, setting her pen down on her notebook, "even despite the numerous times that he's almost twisted his ankle."

"I bet you Steven will," I grin.

"If I win, what do I get?" she asks me curiously.

"I'll let you shove me into heels and cover my face in makeup one night," I tell her. "And if I win?"

She smirks with excitement at my bid. "You get to borrow my red dress that you love so much."

"The one that is cut open at the front?" I ask, beaming with excitement.

"That one," she smiles.

I continue to grin, glancing back over at the soldiers. The men fight to try and climb the white flag pole, only to slide back down to the dirt. Steven just stands quietly in the back, catching his breath. Hodge begins to pull himself up, the black heels glistening in the sun.

Peggy has since put on another pair of heels and just keeps his boots with her at all times. Definitely good memorabilia that I hope we can keep.

Hodge slides down just as he makes it halfway up the flagpole, blaming his failure on the heels. "These damned heels are ruining everything," he growls angrily.

"That's the point, soldier!" I shout back.

He gives me a quick glare, being trampled by the rest of the soldiers who want to get that damn flag so they don't have to run the rest of the way back. When I was here, I was so close to getting that flag. Then some jackass pulled my leg down so my fingers barely grazed it. I knew the smarter way to get it down, but I was told personally that I couldn't use my wit against the rest of the soldiers, which was a pain.

The commander hollers for them to get back in formation and they quickly do, sprinting down the dirt path. Steven, however, doesn't. He waits until the rest of the crowd leaves, leaving him alone with the flagpole. I hastily snatch up my pen and paper, not daring to glance away from him. The guide shouts at him to fall in with the rest of the group, but he doesn't listen. I have a pretty strong feeling that I'm getting a red dress for one night.

Steven fixes his eyes down at the end of the flagpole, not at the flag itself. His hands grasp a few metal rods, yanking them out. The entire flagpole, flag and all, clatter to the ground with a few creaks. I grin even wider as he throws the bolts to the ground and heads towards the top of the fallen flagpole. He pulls the flag off and hands it to the guide, quickly thanking the extremely shocked commander, and hopping into the back of the truck.

I start the engine and drive away from the dumbfounded soldiers.

"You owe me a dress," I smirk at Peggy.

She just rolls her eyes, crossing her arms.

I turn around to face Rogers, not having to look at the road. This entire place has been carved into my memory, so I couldn't forget it even if I tried.

"Pretty impressive there. It's nice to know that there are a few people here that think outside the box, Steven," I smile, glancing back at the dirt path.

"Steve," he corrects. He offers his hand out for me to shake. I quickly give his small hand a firm squeeze, shaking it. He seems awfully surprised, his eyes widening at me.

"Genevieve," I greet.

He nods, his jaw still agape. "It's a pleasure, Doctor. I-Impressive how you stood up to Hodge like that. He's a real jerk."

I scoff. "And that's being polite. I would use the term imbecile."

Steve laughs, pushing up his large helmet.

We just chat the rest of the ride, Peggy interjecting to state something or correcting me every once and a while. A smile creeps across my lips as Steve says more about himself, adding more adjectives to that list inside of my head of him. He's such a good man, and he doesn't seem to realize it.

Later on, Peggy shouts at the soldiers to pick up the pace on their push-ups. Steve struggles, but still persists.

"My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul," Peggy remarks, pacing across the line of soldiers.

I smirk, glancing at Steve every once and a while, then at Hodge, then back to Steve to get myself back in a good mood. I want to do so much more to that Hodge than kick him in the groin and force him to wear heels. He deserves to feel pain, that asshole.

"Up!" Peggy orders, and all of them shoot up from the ground quickly excluding Steve.

I make eye contact with Abraham and smile, and nod at Colonel Phillips.

"So you both think Rogers?" Colonel mutters in his normal strict tone.

"We have actually decided on him, Colonel," I reply in a whisper.

Colonel sets his jaw, glancing up at the scrawny soldier.

"He might not be physically strong, but he's got more heart to him than I've ever seen," I mumble. "That's why it's him. We're going to make him strong in both."

Peggy teases the soldiers, calling them girls, as they do jumping jacks.

"Stick a needle in that kid's arm, it's gonna go right through him," Colonel remarks.

We watch Steve try to do jumping jacks, but they are weak and he's just raising his arms tiredly. The clanking of dog tags fill my ears, but Colonel's voice speaks over them.

"Look at that," he mutters, shaking his head. "He's makin' me cry."

"We're looking for qualities beyond the physical," Abraham says with his thick German accent.

"You know how long it took to set up this project," Colonel says. He mutters some more to Abraham, causing the scientist to grumble and roll his eyes. "Hodge has passed every test we gave him. He's big, he's fast, he obeys orders — he's a soldier."

"Just because he can follow the rules and be kind to people of his own gender," I spit, crossing my arms over my chest. "He's an ass to everyone else."

"You don't win wars with niceness, Doctor," Colonel Phillips says in a low and disappointed voice. "I trained you, you should know better." He grabs a false grenade from the back of a truck, flipping it open.

"Just because you observed me and told me what I can and can't do doesn't mean that you 'trained' me," I retort.

"And I told you that you win wars with guts," he says. He tosses the grenade towards the men and Peggy. "Grenade!"

Hodge is the first to process the word Colonel Phillips shouted. "Move, move, move!" he screams to the others, who scamper around like mortified ants. I take a few steps towards Peggy, going a few feet in front of her, protectively. I step towards the grenade. At first I can't find it, but then I see a small body covering the spot where it was thrown. Oh my god, Steve's thrown himself over it.

"Get away!" Steve commands, squinting his eyes shut and waving in the opposite direction. "Genevieve, get back!"

I stare at him in awe, true awe this time. He not only remembered and called my name, but he's trying to protect everyone by giving his life in the process. He didn't even hesitate. He just bolted to the grenade shell and threw himself on top of it without a second thought. He now sits up, glancing around the camp, confused to why he's not dead and the place isn't in ruins. He looks up at me. "Is this a test?"

It's like he's asking everyone, but his eyes stare into mine. I nod at him in reply, my jaw dropped and still in shock.

I hear Colonel mutter to Abraham, "he's still skinny," but that means he agrees with our final decision. Abraham smiles at Steve, giving me a nod.

I step closer to Steve, holding my hand out for him to grab. He reluctantly takes it in his own, and I pull him back to his feet. I haven't noticed until now, but he is roughly my height.

"That was great, Rogers," I mumble.

His reaction at first is dumbfounded. Has he never received a compliment before? He eventually smiles, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Before he can say anything, the soldiers are told to get back in formation.

[•]

I softly knock on the wooden bunker door, awkwardly pulling down my sleeves. I hear someone stir inside, fumbling around with something. That something might be a book, based on the subtle sounds of paper.

"Come in," Steve's muffled voice calls from inside of the bunker. I allow myself in, quietly closing the door behind me. There is barely any light inside, only the few fluorescent ones in the ceiling. No one is in here except Steve, who closes a book in between his hands. He glances back at me, and we exchange greeting smiles. Sounds of music from outside and crickets echo through the small bunker, yet it is still oddly quiet.

The procedure is tomorrow, so I wanted to make sure that he was still okay.

"Can't sleep?" I question. I didn't really need to ask because I can see the bags under his eyes, and he wouldn't be reading with those unless he was having difficulty hitting the hay.

"No. I got the jitters, I guess," Steve sighs. "You either?"

"I can never sleep," I laugh, sitting on the bed across from him. I fold my hands across my lap, making eye contact with his baby blue orbs. "Dr. Erskine should be here in a second; he had business to take care of beforehand."

Steve nods.

We sit in the dead silence for a moment, not uttering a single word. I bite the inside of my lip, not wanting to speak up first.

"Can I ask you a question?" he finally asks to break it as he throws his book into his trunk that sits at the end of his bed.

"Just one?" I question back. "I would've expected there to be more."

Steve laughs softly, "Yeah, just one." He interwinds his hands together in between the large space in between his legs. He seems rather nervous, maybe even confused. "Why me?" he asks me in a hushed voice.

I smile. "That might be a good question for Doctor Erskine — he's better at giving the details in a good, not blunt way, unlike me. I am as straight forward as one could ever be."

"But you wanted it to be me too," Steve says. "You didn't just play along with him. You clearly had your own strong opinion on the matter."

I sigh, brushing a lock of my curly hair behind my ear. I don't even know the answer to his question. I don't know how to word it either. "I just hate people who treat others like rubbish and expect to be treated kindly, like that Hodge kid. I've never seen a man so terrible here in my life."

"I completely agree with you," he scoffs. "I hate that bully."

"Don't we all," I mumble. "But you aren't like that, and we needed someone with a big heart and—"

I don't know how to continue. I have to just bite my tongue from saying anything that he wouldn't understand, that no one except Abraham understands, considering that he is also a scientist.

Speak of the devil. Abraham steps inside, asking Steve, "May I?" before entering, to which Steve answers, "Yeah," to.

Abraham smiles at me. "I see that you made it here before me, Genevieve."

I nod, scooting over so that he can sit next to me on the bed. He quickly does, and Steve asks him the same question he asked me. I notice that Abraham is holding a bottle in his hands before he gives Steve a response, causing me to raise an eyebrow.

"I suppose that is the only question that matters," Abraham replies. He holds up the bottle for Steve and me to see. "This is from Augsburg, my city," he says, staring at the bottle. "So many people forget the first country the Nazis invaded was their own. After the last war they— my people, struggled. Th-They felt weak. They felt small. And then Hitler comes along with the marching and the big shows and the flags and so on. And then he hears of me and my work. And then he finds me."

Abraham sighs, memories flooding through him. "And he says, 'you'" — he points a finger to Steve — "'you can make us strong.' And well, I am not interested." He sets the bottle on the floor, shifting his gaze from Steve to me, then back to Steve through his circular glasses. "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 power and Teutonic myth.

"Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for Schmidt, it is not fantasy. For him it is real," Abraham says. "He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the earth, left here by the gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do, he cannot resist it. Schmidt must become the superior man."

"Did it make him stronger?" Steve asks him.

"Yeah," Abraham mumbles back, "but there were other, eh, effects."

My eyes widen, and I fix my gaze to the closest floorboard. What kind of "effects" does he mean?

"The serum was not ready," Abraham continues, "but more important, the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside, so good becomes great and bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen, because a strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect of that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength and knows compassion."

Steve blinks, still trying to keep in everything Abraham has said. I am struggling to do the same. From Schmidt to knowledge of power, I don't know what to think of all of this information.

"Thanks," Steve says softly. "I think."

A small smile tugs at the corners of all of our mouths at the lightened mood.

Abraham reaches over towards the three stacked glasses on top of Steve's trunk, asking him to get them for him. Steve quickly does, shifting the clanking glasses into his hands for Abraham to pour some of the alcohol into them.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing — that you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier but a good man," the doctor smiles at him, pointing toward Steve's chest. Heart, that is what will stay the same after all of this.

Abraham takes two filled glasses from Steve, keeping one for himself and outstretching his hand to give me one.

"You know that I'm not much of a drinker, Abraham," I laugh, staring down at my lap.

"Don't lie to yourself," he remarks. He shoves the glass into my hand with a grin on his face.

Steve smiles at me, holding up his own glass. "To the little guys," he proposes.

I nod, bringing the glass to my lips. It tastes sweet, like the drinks I usually share with Abraham after a long day. It's obviously Schnapps. They always make me think of his wise words.

"Woah! Wait, wait, wait!" Abraham exclaims, taking Steve's glass away from him.

I cough on my drink from shock, slowly swallowing it back down.

"The procedure tomorrow. No fluids," Abraham recalls. He pours the liquid from Steve's cup into his own and swiftly into mine before I can scowl.

"Oh," Steve mumbles. "All right, we'll drink it after."

"Agreed," I say, setting my glass on the small table in between the beds. I glance at Abraham, who takes a swig from his cup. Steve and I both stare holes into him, causing his eyes to widen.

"No, I don't have the procedure tomorrow, and I want to drink it now," Abraham states. He scoffs. "Drink it after, drink now. Ahem, Genevieve."

"Hm?" I ask.

"Don't let that go to waste. Now, drink."

I roll my eyes, giving in and sipping the sweet drink. Steve sweetly smiles at us. I give him a smirk back, nodding to give him reassurance. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for him, and most likely for all of us.