(Just as a warning, this fic does contain what is considered nowadays to be a racial slur against the Japanese, though it is accurate for the vocabulary and attitude of the time – if anyone does think this is offensive please let me know and I will change it)

The military base five miles west of the German line was a veritable hive of activity – though the sudden influx of over a thousand men would do that to a place. People were running around trying to organise everything from bedding to supplies to the re-assignation of soldiers who couldn't stay in a base that was filled well over capacity.

Lieutenant Jack Thompson was among those who had been herded into the medical bay upon arrival, despite his vehement protests that his injury was little more than a deep scratch. A bullet had gazed his side; he hadn't been able to properly clean or treat the injury and, after three days trapped in a blizzard behind enemy lines, it looked worse than it was. Three stitches and a clean dressing later, he was cleared to resume his duties just as soon as he got a signature of one of the medical team on his file.

He had been among the battalion that was saved by Captain America – and he had been as sceptical as all the others, having seen the posters, the films, the red white and blue uniform, but the man himself certainly couldn't be described as star-spangled. Yeah, he had a shield painted in the American colours, but the rest of him was a tall frame, heavy muscle and deadly weapons. His team, the Howling Commando's, as they had been nicknamed, were a closely-knit, grim bunch, but Jack had to hand it to them – they were good at what they did.

He was sitting on one of the cots and buttoning up his shirt when he heard the distinctive clack of heeled shoes down the floor of the med-bay. He glanced up and saw a dark haired woman walking quickly between the rows of beds, which were all laid out along the walls like dormitories, with curtains that could be drawn around them for privacy. She was wearing a long, brown coat and her curled hair was damp from the snow that was still falling outside.

"Hey, nurse, you got a sec?" Jack called out to her, thinking he could get her to sign his file.

The woman paused and turned crisply to face him; her eyes were finely lined with black khol and her lips were painted a lurid red. "I believe the honorific you're looking for is Agent," she corrected him firmly, her voice clipped and distinctly British. Then she turned on her heel, dismissing him, and continued down to the end of the ward, her smart, though muddied, shoes clicking with every step. Studying her retreating figure, Jack noticed that the hem of her skirt peeking from beneath her long coat was the same shade as his own uniform, identifying her as Army personnel.

"Jesus, they're letting women in the Army now?" he muttered to himself, mildly disgusted.

"Someone has to do the typing and filing," his friend Lieutenant Leonards said from where he was leaning against the bed next to him, eyeing the woman lasciviously and waiting for him to be discharged. "And when they look like that I ain't going to complain, she ain't hard on the eyes." He jerked his chin down at the file that was sitting on Jack's bed. "You get your orders?"

Thompson smirked at him. "Okinawa, Japan."

"You lucky bastard," his friend said, sounding jealous. "I hear those Jap-dames are quite something – you know, them ones that paint their faces white?"

"Geisha's," Jack corrected him, finishing buttoning his shirt and picking up his jacket. "And do you ever think with anything other than your cock, Leonards?"

Leonards laughed. "You should feel sorry for me, they're shipping me to England," he said, then nodded down the ward, towards where the British Agent (Jesus, what were the Brit's thinking, sending women to the front lines? Nurses were one thing, but Agents were quite another) was talking to one of the senior medical staff. "And if the dames are as frigid as that one it ain't going to matter how pretty they are, I mean talk about blue balls."

Jack glanced over to her as well as he picked up his file. She was wearing a military issue coat so couldn't make out the curves underneath, but her legs were long and shapely enough to catch a man's attention and get him thinking. And then there was those red lips.

He shook himself slightly and turned away from the woman. "I'll just be glad to get out of this cold," he said to his friend, slinging his jacket around his shoulders. "After that blizzard my balls are blue for a whole other reason."

Leonards snorted. "When are you shipping out?"

"Tomorrow," he told him, clapping him on the shoulder and pushing him in the direction of the door. "Come on, I'll get this signed and then let's grab a drink," he said as they walked from the ward, forgetting almost entirely about the dark haired, British Agent he had just met.

Okay, so I ship Cartson - but in a slow build, lots of character development and growing respect first kind of way. Leave a review, my lovelies :)