1943

Cassandra sat in a meeting room. A folder was slid to her from the other side of the table. She opened it, and took a picture out of the paperclip holding it to the rest of the folder. She set the picture down beside her on the table, and read through the file.

"The Allies have developed a serum. Like the one Schmidt took from Doctor Erskine, except it's actually gonna work. Agent One, we'll need you to locate the serum and Erskine. Your cover name will be Agent Lucy Hawthorne, you work for the SSR, use your American accent for this job please." An agent told her.

She didn't know most of these people's names, she didn't think she was allowed to. And besides, it wasn't like she could just ask what their name was. They weren't allowed to call her by her name anyways. She leaned back in her chair, accidently rolling it into the wall.

"Yes sir. When do I start?" She asked.

•••••••••••••

Cassandra climbed out of the jeep. An old looking man came forward to greet her. They shook hands, and she gave him a smile.

"Colonel Phillips, pleasure to meet you." He said.

"Agent Hawthorne, SSR, pleasure to meet you as well." Cassandra said with her fake accent.

"I'll take you to your bunk and let you unpack." Phillips said.

Cassandra opened the door to the small cabin. Two cots and a small bathroom, along with one dresser, was all that occupied the room. She heard scuffling in the bathroom, and she slid a small knife out of her sleeve, and quietly walked towards the bathroom.

A woman with brown hair and brown eyes stepped out of the bathroom with holding a brush, poised to attack. They noticed each other and set down their weapons. Cassandra gave her a smile, and set her bag on the cot that didn't look occupied.

"Hi, my name's Agent Lucy Hawthorne, are you, um, Agent Carter?" Cassandra asked.

"Peggy Carter, pleased to meet you." Peggy said, sticking a hand out.

They shook hands, and Peggy explained to her which drawers she could have. Cassandra put her clothes, which wasn't much, into the first drawer, becuase she only had that.

Peggy had a British accent, and Cassandra realized she'd heard of her. Margaret Carter, previously with the S.O.E. but now with the SSR. This woman had a very high number of kills, and she was almost enemy number one for Hydra. Almost.

"I love your accent. I always wanted to be from England." Cassandra said.

This wasn't really a lie. She thought England was pretty. She liked the sound of the accent, the rain, the architecture. She didn't know how she knew that, something about taking a trip with somebody to London before she was taken. It was all a bit fuzzy.

"Where are you from?" Peggy asked, her voice echoing from the bathroom.

"New Jersey!" She answered, laying down on the cot and staring at the ceiling.

She didn't get a reply, but she heard a clatter, and Peggy muttering under her breath. Cassandra stood up and looked into the bathroom doorway.

"Are you ok?" Cassandra asked, helping her fallen roommate stand.

"Yes, my heel snapped off and I fell as you can imagine." Peggy answered, holding up the snapped shoe.

"You can borrow one of mine if you'd like," Cassandra suggested, slowly taking the broken shoe from Peggy.

"I have my own, thank you though."

Peggy said they wouldn't start training until the next day, and she said that they needed help checking the soldier's helath, and clearing them down in the city. Peggy said she had papers to file and read, but Cassandra had nothing better to do.

••••••••••••

Cassandra sat in a chair, stamping applications. Her head sat on her wrist, and she glanced down at a short man. Boy? She wasn't sure, he was too small to be an adult. But he was too mature looking to be a child. She glanced over his health problems.

• Asthma

The list went on, but she didn't have to read anymore. She stamped 4F in the box where you were supposed to stamp. The man looked confused and distraught.

"Look, Mr," she looked at his name, "Mr. Rogers, you're ineligible with asthma alone." She explained.

"I just want to help." He said, sounding desperate.

"Look, I don't make the rules. And I'm saving your life here."

The man looked like he wanted to argue with her more, but he sighed and turned away my taking his file with him. She called the next name.

"Stevenson, Michael."

••••••••••••••••

"You know, there's an science expo, just out the door. You could go if you wanted. We have enough help here Miss Hawthorne." A doctor said.

She exhaled, and nodded, as the flow of young men had filtered down to about three. Cassandra thanked the doctor, and grabbed her coat, and going out the door, smiling at the other nurses' grumbling about "unfair" and "why can't we go?"

Two young men one in an army uniform, he must've just been enlisted, walked past her. She brushed shoulders with one of them, and she tripped on an uneven floorboard. She didn't fall down, thanks to the dark haired man who grabbed her arm tightly, pulling her up.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice strangely familiar.

"Yes thank you," she said with a polite smile.

"Wouldn't want you to get hurt," he said with a concerned look on his face.

She stared at him, trying to figure out how she knew him, and where she knew him from. It was right there, but she couldn't remember. He waved a hand in front of her face, making her blink.

"Are you feeling ok, you look a little pale."

"

No, no I'm fine."

"Hey, do I know you from somewhere?" He asked.

Oh how badly she wanted to jump into his arms, to hug him. But she couldn't. He would ask questions, and those questions would land her in the noose. But how badly she wanted to say his name. James. James Buchanan Barnes. But she couldn't. She couldn't remember her brother. She couldn't remember the night she was taken. She could not forget her training.

"No, I just have one of those faces." Cassandra lied, the words hurting her heart.

"I could've sworn I've seen you before. Sorry about that Miss. Have a good night," he said, jogging after his friend after giving her a small wave.

"Thanks."

Cassandra rushed to the women's bathroom, and closed the door to the stall. Tears tried to get their way past her eyes, but she stopped them, taking a breath, and forcing the tears back. She couldn't cry. Not anymore. She had to remember her training, remember her mission. She would get in and out of here as quick as she could. No matter who she had to kill to get there.

so, i honestly have NO idea is "hawthorne" is a fourties name, but it just fit with the name lucy.

keep reading! (once another chapter is up of course)-