Author's Note: I'd thrown around the idea of a The First Avenger fanfic for a while now, even though I know I shouldn't have, but this idea won't stop pinging around in my head like a pinball. I am absolutely obsessed with Bucky Barnes, and this is the result. He is a fluffball that deserves so much better. So, instead of sleep, I wrote this after watching Civil War for a sixth time on my handy-dandy laptop. I have the next chapter of my Agents of SHIELD story almost done, so that'll be up soon, I promise.

So, as an introductory to this here story, it's going to have dates so you all know what's happening. I plan loosely (and I say loosely because everyone who has read anything of mine KNOWS that me and updating [or finishing stories in general] never really happens, but I have a certain degree of hope for this one because Captain America is what going me into the Marvel Universe in the first place and I've had a certain affinity for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes ever since) to span The First Avenger and after that, well, I have an idea, but it depends on whether this story even takes off. This is gonna be Bucky/OC because my muffin deserves this. I think that's all I need to say.

So as usual, follow and favorite, drop a review if you feel so inclined and want to see more. 3

Rating: T for swearing and violence.

Disclaimer: Y'all know what's mine and what isn't by this point.

Editing: All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

Face Claim: Sophia Bush (like, One Tree Hill days).

Prologue

May 6, 1940 – Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts

I paced back and forth, wringing my hands nervously. I'd already smoothed my skirt down a countless number of times. I'd already rolled up my sleeves to my elbows, rolled them back down, and then rolled them back up. On three different occasions. The nervous feeling in my gut built and I tugged subconsciously at my dark curls as I stalked up and down backstage. Out beyond the opening curtain, I could hear the Dean of Students preparing to introduce the graduating class speaker. Preparing to introduce me.

Public speaking was not a strong point for me. Not at all. Why I'd accepted when the Dean offered to let me speak, I had no idea. I was still trying to figure it out myself.

Clenching my fists, I turned around and nearly screamed as I ran into my two best friends and my little brother, who had somehow made their way backstage.

"I can't do this," I blurted. "I don't do public speaking. I don't even like speaking in general when more than five people are listening!"

Lydia Butler, my best friend since childhood, had the gall to laugh to my panicked state. "Come on, AJ, you'll be fine. Besides, didn't you tell me the Dean asked you to speak back in December? You've been planning this speech for months now, what do you have to worry about?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lyd, only the fact that my entire graduating class and their families, my professors, and basically everyone whose opinion matters to me are going to be listening!" I exploded quietly, flailing my arms.

"Shhh!" hushed my other best friend, Jane Forrester, who had transferred to our high school in our freshman year. "Just take a deep breath, Frosty."

"Yeah, Frosty," snorted my ten year old brother, Henry.

"Don't call me that," I snapped, shooting a glare at him. He stuck his tongue out at me and crossed his arms.

"Wait! Wait, I think you're on…" said Lydia, shushing us and holding up a hand.

"Great," I said sarcastically, "you don't even know."

Just then, I heard the Dean's voice again and exhaled. I wasn't late. But that didn't mean good news. "Now, I'd like you all to join me in welcoming newly named doctor, Adelyn Frost, a graduate of this year's class here at Harvard University."

Applause thundered out beyond the curtain, seemingly shaking the entire auditorium. I felt my throat constrict and my breathing slow. I couldn't do this. There was no way. I was a scientist, not a public speaker. Give me a lab and a few test tubes, and that was where I was comfortable. At a podium in front of nearly a thousand people? Not so much. I tugged at the collar of my dress, feeling as if it was closing in on my windpipe.

"Go!" hissed Lydia.

I felt my friend's hand at the small of my back, shoving me forward through the break between the main curtain. People were still clapping. The harsh lighting on the stage forced me to squint through the blinding bright overheads. To my left, the Dean of Students, Doctor Calvin Lewis, was smiling at me, clapping as well. The smile was encouraging to a degree, but my stomach was in knots. Sure, I couldn't see the audience past the lighting, but I knew they were there and that was enough to make me nervous.

I stepped up to the expensive mahogany wood podium and glanced down uncomfortably at the papers scattered on the surface. My heart leapt to my throat when I didn't see my own stack of notes. Finally, after what seemed like ages, my eyes found the note packet on my speech and relief flooded through me like a tidal wave. The last thing I needed was to speak freely offhand, especially when I was nervous. I tended to ramble. Me rambling was never good thing.

At last, the applause in the auditorium stopped. It was silent, until one of the people seated coughed a bit, prompting me to clear her throat. I could have heard a pin drop if I had one.

"Thank you, Doctor Lewis," I began, wincing a bit at the slight quiver in my voice. I cleared my throat once more. "And thank you all for having me speak today on the behalf of the Class of 1940. It felt like we'd never get here. But we did." I paused, looking down at her notes. They were short and simple. Talk about your achievements and get the hell out. That was the plan.

But somehow, now that I was standing there, looking out through the bright lighting, the idea didn't seem to do justice to the rest of the class. They'd all worked as hard as me, if not harder to get to where they were. We all deserved a little recognition. Especially the rest of the women in the audience.

I shoved my noted aside, making a split second decision. Maybe rambling wasn't such a bad idea.

"I had notes on this entire thing, but I think I'm going to go off book for this one. A fair warning though, I tend to talk a lot when I'm nervous, so I apologize in advance if I get off track." There was a smattering of chuckles through the audience that calmed my nerves and loosed the knot in my stomach the slightest. "I grew up with people always telling me I couldn't. I couldn't go to school because I had to stay home and work. I couldn't go to college because we couldn't afford it unless I got a full ride, which I am proud to say, I managed. I couldn't be a biochemist. I couldn't get my doctorate. And I was sick of people putting limits on me just because I was a girl.

"My college experience has led me to realize that those limitations aren't only put on women. They're put on a lot of folks. Women, blacks, cripples, and basically anyone who isn't a white man in good physical condition with half a brain.

"But in light of recent world events, a lot of those white men with half a brain are going to be doing something else. Not going to college, no, but there's going to come a time, and it's going to be soon, mark my words, that this country is going to be at war again. And those men are going to be out fighting for our freedom and, some of them, paying the ultimate sacrifice. They aren't going to have time for college. So who's going to be in our colleges? I'll tell you who. Women. Blacks. Cripples. People who can but who have been told all their life that they can't. And the same people that told us back then that we couldn't are going to need our help. Maybe from this war, we can learn something about each other as country. That white men aren't the only capable human beings.

"Taking it a step further, the entire world thinks that the United States can't. That we can't make a difference in the war that's raging just over the Atlantic. But out there, Europe needs our help against Germany, just as the white men of America need the help of the minorities in this time, whether anyone wants to admit it or not. And we're going to give it to them.

"Here at Harvard, despite what I've said, I'm glad to say that I enjoyed my experience here. The professors were welcoming, even if skeptical at first. My fellow students were…critical, but kind. This school gave me the chance to achieve my full potential and not just me, but so many others as well. At Harvard in the past few years, we've taken the first steps toward cell regeneration. Towards something bigger than all of us that I'm proud to say I took a part in.

"As I said, the world is on the brink of war and the technology that we're advancing everyday here at Harvard can make a difference in the lives of so many men. I'm proud when I look around see what my graduating class has accomplished and I'm excited to see what we're able to do in the future. I'm excited to watch people told that they can't prove the world wrong and show them that they can, because that's what I did. Even when the whole world stood against me, my own family included, I proved them wrong. Even as the whole world stands against us as a country right now, we're going to fight back. Congratulations, Class of 1940. We're all about to take part in something that's bigger than all of us. And I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Applause erupted through the crowd and the nervous tension in my stomach dissolved. I shook Doctor Lewis's hand as he was smiling brightly at me, and exited the stage, through the curtain which I came. Once I was out of sight, Lydia and Jane ambushed me, hugging me and squealing in my ear.

"That was great, AJ!" gushed Lydia.

"Yeah, who knew?" asked Jane slyly.

"Not me," muttered Henry. "Remember that one time Sam asked you to speak at his wedding?"

I rolled my eyes in response and cuffed him lightly on the back of his head. Henry grumbled an indignant 'Ouch!' and glared at me as he rubbed the back of his head. I shook her head. "Never again. Never again will I do that. Give me a lab and a sample of an infectious disease, and I'm fine. A podium and a crowd of people? No thank you."

"Oh, quit exaggerating, you did amazing," waved off Lydia. "Now how much longer until we can go for milkshakes?"

"Milkshakes!" cheered Henry in agreement, seeming to completely forget about his reason for complaining.

"They started reading off the names of our class as soon as I stepped off. Only about fifteen minutes or so," I dismissed lightly. A puff of pride had swelled in my chest as the realization hit me that I was about to collect my doctorate. My doctorate. Take that Dad, I thought proudly. I couldn't help the grin that spread itself across my face.

Jane folded her arms across her chest, her red hair pulled up tightly in a neat bun, framing her angular features. As she sniffed, her nose twitched, her splash of freckles rippling across her features. "I can't believe you're getting a doctorate in biochemistry. My parents are always complaining about how I should be more like you. Apparently nursing school wasn't enough," she snorted.

"Technically, I also went through nursing school," I pointed out as I changed into my cap and gown with the assistance of Lydia. "I double majored."

" 'Double majored,' she says. Why don't you just let my parents adopt you and solidify the fact that I'm such a disappointment," drawled Jane with a smirk.

"Are you going to join the war effort with us then?" asked Lydia hopefully as she helped me shrug on the gown.

I frowned, her nose wrinkling up. "I know what I said in my speech and stuff, but the United States hasn't even joined the war effort."

"Oh, please," dismissed Lydia, "You know as well I do that Nazi Germany isn't going to go down without us. England'll be calling any day now, begging for our help. You said it yourself."

"That was a ploy in the effort for equality for women."

Lydia dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "You still said it."

I smirked. "You really think England's gonna call up President Roosevelt any day now?"

"Oh, darling, I don't think," purred Lydia, "I know."

I couldn't help it as I rolled my eyes. "I have to go, guys. Got a degree to collect."

Lydia flounced back, her blonde curls bouncing, and she played with my hair for a moment, framing the dark brown strands around my face. "Go get 'em, Frosty," said Lydia with a wink once she was done playing.

I heard Doctor Lewis's voice a moment later. "Adelyn Juliet Frost."

I took a deep breath for the second time that night and stepped into the spotlight.

Meanwhile, in the audience…

"Regenerating cells. That's impressive, right?" muttered Colonel Chester Phillips to his companion. His companion, the genius Howard Stark, who was too busy munching on a hotdog to be paying attention to the ceremony. Colonel Phillips rolled his eyes and scowled. "Howard!"

Howard Stark jumped a little, turning to face the grizzled older man. His mustache was stained with mustard, cheeks puffing out like a blowfish, presumably full of hotdog. "Hrmph?" he said, which Colonel Phillips assumed must've meant, "What?"

Phillips scowled at Howard. "I said, regenerating cells. That's good, right?"

Howard swallowed. "Oh, yeah, that's really good. Incredibly impressive, actually," he whispered. "Of course, they're probably nowhere near close to doing anything monumental. I've been trying to find a way to do that for months and I haven't even gotten close."

Colonel Phillips narrowed his eyes at Stark while he spoke. His mustache quivering with mustard was quite distracting, more so than Phillips would have liked to admit. "You're an engineer, Stark. This woman, she's a professional at this. You know that, right?"

Howard, who had taken another bite of his hotdog, froze, mid-chew, and glared at Chester Phillips. "An' wha's tha' s'posed ta mean?" he demanded, his mouth full. Again.

Colonel Phillips rolled his eyes, but couldn't hold back the miniscule half-grin that tugged at his lips. "It means you're an idiot. And wipe your goddamn mouth, you're getting mustard everywhere."

Just as Colonel Phillips stopped talking, a bit of the yellow substance dropped off of Howard's mustache onto his khaki slacks. Howard muttered something unintelligible that probably wasn't very polite as he polished off the last of his hotdog and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before folding it in half and dabbing at his pants. "You could've told me."

"Yeah, I could've."

Howard scowled as he watched the young woman who had spoken, Adelyn Frost, reenter to accept her degree. "A doctorate in biochemistry," whistled Howard. "Color me impressed. She's young, too."

Colonel Phillips rolled his eyes. "Don't get any ideas, Stark. We're trying to recruit her for our cause, not scare her half-way across the world."

"If we don't start breaking down HYDRA soon, there won't be another side of the world to run to," murmured Howard.

As much as Chester Phillips hated to admit it, Howard Stark was correct. They needed to get the upper hand on the Nazis' deep science division. The only problem was, as far as Chester could see, there was no way to gain the upper hand.

"She definitely seems to like the idea of the United States joining the war effort," commented Phillips.

"Or it was just an analogy to relate to her feministic point," suggested Howard.

"Shut up, Stark, can't a soldier be hopeful?"

"You really want to recruit her?"

"Is that really a question you have to ask?" asked Phillips, looking at Stark.

Howard merely shrugged. "You'll have to spell it out for me."

"Look at her, Stark. She's practically a genius. She's only twenty-three. She supports the war—"

"Feministic ploy," muttered Howard.

"—effort and you two would get along fabulously, I can already tell. And you can't tell me that you didn't notice that she's absolutely stunning."

Howard quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "I did, in fact, but I wasn't going to say anything. I'm surprised you said anything."

"I'm sixty-four, not dead, Howard," grunted Phillips, clearly unamused.

Howard snorted and clapped along with the rest of the crowd as the girl—Adelyn Frost—stepped up on stage again to receive her doctorate. The applause was thunderous as she walked off stage and Howard was sure he even heard a few cat calls.

He was surprised, of course. Colonel Phillips had been entirely correct: Ms. Frost was absolutely gorgeous. And a genius. Positively brilliant. A doctorate at twenty-three was unheard of. A woman getting her doctorate at twenty-three was absolutely stellar. Phillips had a point and Howard had half a mind to agree with the idea to recruit her, but he was still nervous. Not because she was a woman, no, but because he hated to involve anyone in what they were doing. Their work was absurdly dangerous and he didn't want to get anyone involved that wasn't necessary. But Howard needed all the help he could get if they were actually going to achieve what Phillips was planning. It was one hell of a long shot, and he couldn't deny that Ms. Frost would be an asset.

Howard sighed in defeat. "Are we going to talk to her?"

Phillips merely grunted. "You're on board then?"

"Did I actually have a say at all?"

For the first time, Colonel Phillips grinned widely at Howard, clapping him on the shoulder. "No, you didn't. See, I told ya you'd catch on."

"Yeah, lovely," muttered Howard, but a grudging smile graced his features.

"We don't talk to her tonight. Not yet. Let her have her time with her family and friends. The United States hasn't even officially joined the war yet. She has time. Let her enjoy it while it lasts."

"Whatever you say, boss," muttered Howard, clapping as yet another graduate crossed the stage. He paused for a moment as his stomach growled. "Say, can I get another hotdog?"