The Best Men

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Colonel Phillips squinted at the names on the piece of paper in his hand. Then he directed the full force of his glare at the man standing on the other side of his desk.

Steve Rogers kept his eyes straight ahead, standing at attention.

"These men?" Phillips asked. "These are the men you want on your team?"

"Yes, sir," said Rogers, still standing straight. His lapel pins were crooked - somebody needed to teach that boy how to dress.

Phillips looked back down at the names on the scrap of paper, and then back up at the newly-made captain in front of him. The army had decided it was easier to promote the young man to his apparent rank than to change the moniker half the free world knew him by.

"You had the choice of the entire army, the SSR, the SIS, the OSS," he pointed out. "Half the alphabet soup to choose from, and you pick this bunch?"

The kid's eyes never flickered. "With all due respect sir, I feel like they're the best men for the job. They've proved themselves in battle against Hydra, and they have the experience I don't."

Well at least Rogers didn't have a swelled head to go along with the rest of his suddenly larger body. Phillips looked back down at the paper.

He knew most of these men. He'd thumbed through their files, written some of the condolence letters to the folks back home when he'd thought them lost. Morita's folks were in a displacement camp in California. Dugan's next of kin was an aunt. Falsworth was some kind of English baron or lord or something, and Dernier was a widower, while Gabe came from a tight-knit family of eight.

A mismatched team of hoodlums, the lot of them.

"I notice you've got Barnes on his list." Phillips looked up again, stabbing a finger at the name as if Rogers couldn't read. "You know he's due to go home. All of them could go home, after what they've been through."

For the first time, Steve Rogers faltered. It was the slightest of movements, but the colonel caught it.

"I know," the captain said quietly. "They're a bunch of idiots. Sir."

He didn't say anything more, but the colonel's keen eyes could see more than the young man realized. Rogers wasn't the kind of guy to force anyone to do anything, so the only other explanation was that these men wanted to stay.

They wanted to back this idealistic kid up, all risks notwithstanding.

Phillips slapped the paper down and scowled fearsomely. "I'll consider your input," he growled. "Now get out of my office. Go do something useful somewhere."

"Yes, sir," said Rogers, and started to turn before overbalancing and coming back. "Oh, and sir - I was wondering if we could request Agent Carter as our liaison. She's familiar with Project Insight, and - ah - knows Howard Stark."

The colonel leaned across the table, propped his chin on one fist, and watched steadily until the captain's ears began turning red. Then he asked, very deliberately, "You sure it isn't just because she's got a good figure and a pretty face?"

Rogers turned redder, but for a different reason.

"No sir," he said, iron in his voice, and his jaw angled a bit more stubbornly. "It's because she has faith in us."

Faith. Oh, for Pete's sake. There were two of them.

"Faith, huh?" Phillips grunted, brandishing the list of names. "Much good faith'll do you, dealing with this bunch of yahoos you picked out."

The corner of the captain's mouth curved up a little, though he still looked very serious. "That's the other reason I want her," he informed the colonel. "Because I'm pretty sure she can handle these men and Stark with one hand tied behind her back."

Phillips studied the young man for another minute before leaning back in his chair, impressed though he refused to show it.

This wasn't the first time an officer had requested to have Agent Carter attached to their operation, but usually it had nothing to do with a recognition of her abilities and more to do with her - more picturesque assets. She'd broken the wrist of the last young sergeant she had an assignment with; he'd got far too fresh with her. Phillips had backed her the whole way at the time.

Now, looking at the honest, straightforward eyes of the man in front of his desk, he was pretty sure the incident would not be repeated.

Not that this man was blind - indeed, far from it. Phillips had seen the way Rogers looked at Agent Carter since the first day of training. He'd also seen the way Carter looked at Rogers - but between the two of them, they had a streak of stubbornness and loyalty wide enough to land a couple of B-17s on. Neither of them would take advantage of the situation.

"I'll think about it," he snapped, waving a pen pointedly toward the door. "Dismissed, soldier."

He wouldn't tell Rogers that his mind was already made up. Best to let the kid sweat it out for a couple days before he got the approved list.

Scowling thoughtfully, the colonel picked up the list of names again after Rogers had gone. This was either going to be the worst move of his life, or the most inspired. Either way, the fallout would be something to watch.

Shaking his head, Phillips tapped his pen against the table for a moment and then signed the dotted line at the bottom of the paper with a flourish.

Yes, this was going to be interesting.

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B-17s were bomber planes nicknamed "flying fortresses," used extensively during WWII.

Okay, full disclosure: I had an awful lot of fun writing A Rare Camaraderie. And then that story ended - and the ideas just kept coming. And coming. I've got literally pages of ideas that I work on when my other stories are stuck; some just a line, some almost completely fleshed out.

And then I thought some of you might want to read them.

So - welcome! This is a random assortment of Captain America's adventures during WWII, complete with Peggy and Bucky and the Commandos and Colonel Phillips. Unless I say otherwise, they're set in the same universe as Camaraderie - but unlike Camaraderie, this story doesn't have a set timeline. Which means I don't have to spend the whole thing working toward an inevitable ending. :)

Welcome aboard!