Disclaimer: I only own James “Jamie/JP” Proctor. Hell, I don’t even own Kimberly Proctor as she’d technically part of the comics, and how many female Steve Rogers fanfics are there out there? So everything that is familiar, whether that be characters, or storyline belong to the creators of MCU, Stan Lee and the Marvel Comic. This is just fanfiction and I do not make any profit off of this.
“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.”
― George Orwell
Monday; no matter how many times said, Mondays were by far the worst. For James “Jamie/JP” Proctor those horrible weekly starts began with dragging himself into SHIELD dreary eyed, and sore, alcohol poisoning edging closer and closer every time. But this week, this month had been different.
For the past three weeks, the young agent had watched someone sleep. He had stared at the ice as it broke and shattered. Blinked when the first flickers of a heartbeat sprung to life on the monitor and kept the IV topped up. Contrary to the “oohs” and “ahhs” of his fellow Agents keeping Captain America alive was by far the most mind-numbing experience of his life; even worse than slow internet.
Captain America was, well, huge. Six foot something, and with muscles that could break through walls, it wasn’t surprising that all the trainee Agents had a crush; however it was the Captain’s gender, the fact that she was a woman, that kept most, if not all, well away. Propaganda be damned! The unnamed-captain was blonde, most likely blue-eyed and asleep — so very asleep.
The make-shift hospital was also a terrible ideal awful. It was too bright, and small, so very small. When he stood, Jamie could touch the roof, feel the soft wood beneath the white paint. There was one bed, artificial light streaming through an equal fake window, along with smells and sounds pumped especially for effect. Although it was the radio that pissed Jamie off even more: if he had to listen to the same Dodgers game he would wake Captain America up himself.
While he was excited, and then stunned, when the woman was first rolled into the room, the sheer shock had worn off by the third hour. By the fourth, Jamie had pulled out a worn book, and sat on the floor, nose buried deep in the yellowed pages. He sat across from Captain America’s bed, as far away as he could before disobeying orders.
His back ached, his terrible posture increased by the hunching, and as he turned the pages for what felt like the hundredth time, the door opened. The faint clipping sound of heeled shoes echoed around the sterile room, and as Jamie looked up, his sister plonked down next to him, knees drawn up to her chin.
Taking in her heavily make-uped appearance, Jamie raised his head, eying the corkscrew curls, the vintage makeup, and burgundy lipstick. His twin gave him a look, raising her hands in “ta-da” motion, before dropping them, a deep scowl crossing her powdered face.
‘I’m gonna kill Fury,’ Kim breathed, turning to look back up at the still form of Captain America. ‘These clothes aren’t even historically accurate. She’ll know something up the second she sees me,’
She motioned to her blouse, touching the thin line that formed between her bra and shirt.
‘Foam bras didn’t exist in the forties and don’t get me started on the hair. So wrong, so very wrong,’ her green eyes scrunched up tight, and she rested her head on her knees. ‘I’m meant to be downstairs with Stark, listening to Tony go on about his shitty childhood, Afghanistan, and a load of random genius shit! I’m a spy, Jamie, not a nurse!’
Jamie smiled grimly, resting an arm around her shoulders, pulling him against her. Kim scowled but didn’t pull away.
‘Hey, well at least they got the tie right,’
Kim snorted, rolling her eyes.
‘Nah they got that wrong too, it’s for a guy,’ she fiddled with the end. ‘Didn’t Fury tell you to wear a suit and pretend to be Uncle Bucky. You look like him.’
Jamie sucked in his breath and pulled back.
It was true. For a while Kim looked like a mishmash of their parents, with their father’s straight hair, their mother’s pretty features, and a smile that was eerily like their gran’s, he looked like their long-dead Great-Uncle. As a child, he’d sort of enjoyed it, pretending to be a hero everyone knew, but now, fifteen years later, it didn’t have the same effect. He was always being stared at, small children and their grandparents openly gaping when he walked down the street.
It was worse for their gran. At ninety-one, (going on ninety-two), Rebecca Barnes-Proctor often muddled him up with the ghosts in her head, the words she’d never said, the secrets she’d told her brother. She cried when he tried to tell her otherwise, the Alzheimer's working like a cursed charm.
The only thing that differentiated Jamie from his Great-Uncle were his eyes. James Buchanan Barnes’ (or as he was known among family, Yasha Barnes) were blue, deep and icy, like shards of fractured ice, according to his grandmother. His were green, like moss and the forests that his great-grandmother once called home: like Kim’s.
‘I think seeing me would really freak her out,’ Jamie muttered, nodding in the Captain’s form. ‘Bucky’s supposed to be dead. She’d know something was wrong if I turned up.’
His sister’s lips pursed, as if she’d eaten one of Granny Mable’s Soor Plooms, and wrinkled her nose. She sniffed, touching her nose, trying to wipe some of the powder off.
‘Fine,’ she admitted, wiping the makeup on his arm. ‘Besides, you’re too young. Uncle Bucky was twenty-seven when he died: we’re only twenty-two.’
She smiled weakly at him.
‘You’re also allergic to contacts, so yeah, that’s out of the question. Plus, pretending to be our Great-Aunt’s husband is just weird,’
Jamie snickered, rolling his eyes.
‘You can say that again,’
He took his sister’s arm, giving it a small squeeze. She immediately stiffened, eyes fixed on the sleeping man. Jamie turned, face pale. Had Captain America’s head moved or was that his imagination? Kim dropped Jamie’s arm.
‘Did she just move?’ he asked, eyes flicking back to his sister, but she was already moving. With one hand, Kim pulled him to his feet, snatching up his book when it fell to the floor.
‘You stay out there,’ she hissed, once she’d pressed “Animal Farm” back into his hand, ‘and don’t do anything.’
Jamie, while reluctant to leave his sister in the hands of a supposedly dead super-solider, did as he was told, and sat. He waited outside the door, listening to his sister’s voice, hearing it change to a soft New York accent, a kindly voice.
‘Good morning,’ Kim said, and Jamie could only imagine the smile she was giving Captain America. Most likely it was the one she used when she stole his food. There was a pause. ‘Or should I say, afternoon?’
There was a pause, the creek of the floorboards as Kim came to a stop.
‘Where am I?’
Jamie frowned. Captain America’s accent was odd, laced with a soft dialect he couldn’t place. Irish maybe?
‘You’re in a recovery room in New York City.’ Kim’s voice was soft, reassuring, but even behind the fake accent, Jamie heard the fear.
It had only taken forty-five seconds.
‘Where am I really?’
This time the voice was harder, darker, colder.
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’ Kim said a small laugh in her voice.
‘The game, it’s from May, nineteen forty-one.’ Captain America said, hard. ‘I know, cause I was there.’
The bed creaked.
‘Now, I’m gonna ask you again. Where am I?’
Jamie jumped, as his pocket suddenly buzzed, and he revealed his gun, as two soldiers in black uniform pushed passed.
‘Captain Rogers…’ fear had crept into his twin’s voice, the sweetness gone, the fake shattered.
‘Who are you?’
Jamie barely had time to breathe, before the two soldiers burst into the room. He jumped to the side as Captain America — a very awake Captain America — pushed through the fake wall. The woman stumbled, catching herself, turning to look back at the fake-recovery-room.
Her eyes, blue as Jamie thought they’d be, widened as she scanned the structure. Her hair, fell around her shoulders, scraggly from a sixty-something year long haircut, and she was thin — too thin. She blinked once, eyes skimming past Jamie as if trying to figure out how the fake-room was made, before spinning around.
She ran; Jamie sprinted after her. He was suddenly grateful Maria Hill had pushed him and Grant through those long miles, and despite him being Techie-Proctor, he was fast. The Captain was faster. His twin’s voice calling behind, concern lacing her voice.
‘Captain Rogers, wait!’
The soldier pushed open the doors, causing Jamie to fall back a couple of paces before he was smacked in the face. By the time he caught up with the woman, the Captain had sprinted down the corridor and Kim’s voice was echoing from loudspeakers.
‘All agents, Code Thirteen! I repeat. All agents, Code Thirteen!’
Jamie gasped, as Captain America jolted down another corridor, twisted and turned, trying to find the exit. She broke ahead, sprinting out through the doors like a wild animal, Jamie hot on her heel. They broke out onto Broadway, rain pelting their backs, and Jamie almost caught the Captain’s shoulder before she was out onto the road.
‘Bloody hell,’ Jamie hissed, as he jumped into the fray, dodging cars and pedestrians. It was only when they were in the centre, the Captain spinning around in circles, mouth open, that he was spotted.
For a split second, Captain America looked like she wanted to hug Jamie, to maybe even kiss him, then she took a second look. Those blue eyes hardened, darkening when she noticed that Jamie’s hair was longer, body built for a sprinter, not a fighter, and his eyes, his mother’s damn eyes, were never blue. The Super Solider raised her hands, extending it outwards as if to protect herself.
‘What the fuck is going on,’
Jamie snorted; he couldn’t help it.
Before Captain America could run, or punch Jamie, whichever came first, a string of black SUV’s encircled the two, cutting off all exits. Captain America’s paranoia exploded even more, and she barked herself, much like a lion before it went in for the kill. Once the armed guard spread out, Jamie’s shoulders didn’t relax until Fury stepped out of an SUV. Damn that pirate.
The Director of SHIELD looked Jamie up and down.
‘I thought I told you to wear a suit?’
Jamie shrugged, giving him a rare look.
‘I'm not him, sir. Gran would have my ass if she found out I pretended to be her Buck, Alzheimer's be dammed.’
Director Fury sighed, rolling his one good eye, which then fixed directly on Captain America.
‘At ease, soldier!’ he instructed, walking forward, giving the woman a firm look. Behind him, heels abandoned, hair swept up into a high ponytail, walked Kim. She liked her arm through Jamie’s giving him a broad grin. At least someone was happy.
‘Who are you?’ Captain Roger’s demanded, eyes flicking back and forth between Kim, Fury, and Jamie. Her voice shook, when they settled on him, and she blinked; hard.
Fury’s jaw set.
‘Colonel Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD,’ Captain America frowned, eyes narrow as slits. ‘You would have known us as the Strategic Scientific Reserve.’
‘Where am I?’
Kim reached out, creating a barrier between Captain America and the city as if trying to stop the woman from starting — from seeing the world around them.
‘Forty-sixth of Broadway,’ Kim drawled, causing Captain America to turn around, all pretence of a New York accent gone, her North Dakotan roots coming sharp and fierce. ‘It’s just a little more jazzed up.’
Fury gave Kim a look. Jamie snickered. Captain America on the other hand, kept staring at the city.
‘Look,’ Fury sighed as if wanting to be somewhere else other than Broadway. ‘I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we didn’t know what your mental state might be, so we thought it best to break it to you slowly.’
Captain America paused, turning to look.
It was like listening to a small kid, hearing their voice crack right before the tears fell. Fury paused, glancing between the Proctor Siblings as if wishing they’d do this for him. Eventually, after losing the stare-off with Kim, he spoke.
‘You’ve been asleep, Cap; for almost seventy years.’
Beside him, Captain America closed her eyes as if the air had been knocked out of her as if the very breath she depended on was gone. When she opened her eyes, there was something other than shock; realisation.
‘How - how am I alive?’
Jamie winced. She sounded like a kicked puppy.
Fury shook his head.
‘Well, to be honest with you, we don’t really know,’ Fury answered. ‘My docs say it was suspended animation. Could be Doctor Erskine’s formula, the extreme cold, I don’t know.’
‘What about the war?’ The Captain pressed, hands clenched. ‘Did we win?’
‘Are we speaking German?’ Kim interrupted, grinning widely. ‘Do you see any Nazi flags? We won — sorta. There’s a lot of shit that went down afterwards.’
Jamie kicked her, the twins ignoring Nick as he continued, clasping Captain America’s hand in a firm, but reluctant handshake.
‘You gonna be okay?’
‘Yeah… Yeah…’ Captain America said, her voice trembling. 'I just… I had a date.’
There was a beat. A gulp.
Both siblings turned suddenly, straightening as Fury’s single eye settled on them. It passed between them, inspecting their clothes, and abandoned shoes. He sighed.
‘Kimberly, you have a meeting with Mr Stark. It began five minutes ago,’
To Jamie’s surprise, Kim’s lips broke into a wild grin, and she walked away, spinning around only when a car pulled up. The door opened and the twenty-two year old looked to her brother.
‘Don’t fuck up!’ she hollered, as she shimmied herself inside. Jamie raised his hand, flipping her off.
‘Fuck off!’ he bellowed, her laughter joining his smile. Looking back at the Director, Jamie spotted Fury’s scowl.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Jamie asked, crossing his arms. A sly look rose on Fury’s face.
‘Captain, I would like you to meet Agent Proctor.’ Fury said, nodding at the dark-haired man. ‘He’ll be helping you fit back into society,’
Reluctantly, Jamie held out a hand.
‘Jamie,’ Jamie said, smiling tightly, as the Captain took his hand, nearly squeezing it to death.
So this is Jamie, yay! You will meet the rest of the Proctor Family in both this story and it’s a companion piece, “Soldier” and part of the "Marching On" Series. You will need to read both of these stories to understand each other, so sorry about that.
I hope you enjoy.