Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America (the comics, movies, etc.) or any of the characters; I only own my OC Art.
Brief Note: Some confusion was had as to where in the movie this story is currently at; there's a montage of the Commandos raiding a number of bases over an indefinite period of time, so I took the liberty of stretching time out to imagine all this happening during that period. Hope none of y'all are confused :) Enjoy!
9. Katie Cruel
When I first came to town they called me Rovin' Jewel,
Now they've changed their tune, call me Katie Cruel…
…
When I first came to town they gave me drinks a-plenty,
Now they've changed their tune, they give me bottles empty…
The drizzle of rain did nothing to lift Art's spirits not but a week after Phillips had called her into his tent to discuss her identity; she had initially thought the lift of the burden of hiding herself from the Colonel would have made her happier than she'd been before, but it had done the exact opposite. Her entire world seemed to be caving in inch by inch. The Commandos––her closest friends––who now knew, sent her looks when she passed them or when she sat down in the mess tent; they had taken to ignoring her all together, conflicted looks blazing in their eyes. Dugan would often narrow his eyes at the soldier he felt he could once trust, muttering things to his comrades with a grumpy face. During training sessions and meetings, Dugan and the others silently refused to do anything if Art was the one who asked them to do it, only doing as asked when Steve backed up what she'd said. The most conflicted of the Howling Commandos was Bucky. Artie was his friend and had been since the beginning of the war, and he trusted her with his life; he was caught between picking Dugan's side and be asked to ignore and glare at her or if he should accept her wholly like Steve had.
Steve. The one person who still treated her like a friend and a soldier and not like a traitor to the whole of the division. She counted herself lucky only a handful of men were told, otherwise she felt as though the whole of camp would revert to the dark ages and stone her for what she'd done. Sighing, Art slid both hands into her hair and stopped sorting through the ammunition crate she was hovering over, feeling the stress begin to overwhelm her.
"Need any help?" Steve asked from the front of the tent. She looked up, glassy eyed and surprised and then nodded, not trusting her voice to not shake. Steve stepped up beside her and shifted the crate top off the next box and began to sort the containers of bullets, both of them standing in silence for a moment. He looked over at her and saw that her brows were furrowed and face troubled much like it had been all week. "How are you holding up?" Art let out a sigh and braced her hands on either side of the crate, head dropping to hang uselessly between her shoulders.
"I'm starting to consider asking Phillips to send me home because I'm unfit for duty," she admitted. Steve's brows furrowed at her words and he stopped rifling through the crate to stare at her.
"Unfit for duty? Because of an injury?" he asked, eyes quickly scanning over her body to see if he could account for any bandaging. She shook her head and looked over at him with a tired expression.
"Because I'm a woman," she said wryly. Steve offered a stern look at the four words she'd uttered. She pushed away from the crate and threw out her arms, every emotion she'd been bottling up flying loose like a cork from a champagne bottle. "I can handle that I'm not allowed to command a unit of soldiers anymore. That's perfectly fine with me and a fitting punishment for everything that I've done, but what I cannot handle is the way that the Commandos have been treating me; they treat me like I've got the plague, like they just can't stand to think they'd been following the orders of a woman. And they're good men, I know they are, so that just pisses me off even more.
"Dugan is the worst of them all! He acts like he wants to shoot me straight through the head every time he sees me. He's become their… their… ring leader, walking them about on an anti-Artemesia Knoll campaign; if he didn't like me before you put together the Howling Commandos, he down right despises me now. And maybe I–I can deal with them not being able to accept I'm a woman and maybe I can… I can deal with the fact that I can never gain their respect back, but what I cannot deal with is them pretending that the friendship and comradeship we all had meant nothing." Steve pursed his lips and kept quiet, allowing her to blow off steam as she needed to, realizing she'd been holding everything in since the moment she'd exited Phillips' tent. "And maybe that sounds… juvenile or… or emotional or girly, but dammit, they were my friends and I'll be damned if they make themselves forget it."
Having completely wasted all her energy in that one outburst, Art let out a long breath and quickly shut her eyes, the movement of her eyelids immediately pushing tears down her cheeks; she felt like she wanted to collapse, to lie down somewhere and sleep till the war ended, when all of her troubles would just go away. Just as she thought she might actually fall, two arms wrapped around her and held her up; it to her a moment to register that Steve had pulled her into a hug, but once she had her mind wrapped around it, she quickly returned it. Steve's hand rubbed her back comfortingly, noticing that she was shaking like a leaf that was about to detach from its stem. He realized it felt nice to hug someone again, just to give comfort and recieve it as thanks. Art's arms were wound tightly around his shoulders, pressing herself close to the calm warmth that he offered, something that soothed her racing mind and her erratic breathing. With her nose pressed into his shoulder, she subconsciously noted that he smelled like fresh rain and cool air, a combination that further calmed her; Steve's arms had fit themselves against the curve of her waist, a reminder that he was hugging a woman… something he would willingly admit he hadn't done much in his life, but it was something that he told himself in that moment he could get used to doing.
"Thank you," she whispered into his neck, eyes having fallen tightly shut against the lighting in the tent. Steve chuckled and turned his head slightly towards her, his mouth lining up with her ear.
"For what?" he asked, half of a smile rising to his face. Art's arms tightened momentarily, giving him a caring squeeze.
"Everything," replied Art as she drew away, smiling gently up at him. "Everything that you've done for me, Steve. For… giving me a second chance, getting past the façade I put up each morning, and for being the kindest person I've had the pleasure to meet." Steve's smile grew so the corners of his eyes crinkled and the light in the blue of his irises danced; something about her saying that just made him feel… unexplainably happy. It wasn't Bucky she said was the kindest––no, not Bucky the man who taught her to shoot––but him, the goofy guy from Brooklyn who found talking to gals harder than making a plan for infiltrating Nazi bases. Taking her hand in his for a moment, he squeezed her fingers gently, pleased when he saw a smile finally light up her face, breaking the concern that had laced each of her features moments before.
"Well, if that's all… then you're welcome, Art. And if we're giving thanks, then I thank you for keeping my spirits light when everything is… well, dreary and rainy like it is right now," he told her with a laugh. After the two chuckled together and glanced out into the rain, he dropped her hand hesitantly and pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Look, I'll talk to the guys, alright? See if I can get through to them." Art's smile lessened a bit at the reminder of her troubles, but the look in her eyes remained genuine as she whispered,
"Thank you… again…" Art then moved her hands into her own pockets as they both awkwardly stood there for a moment, staying in contended silence with nothing to say. She let her fingers brush over the picture in her pocket, contemplating something. "You know…" she drew out the picture and unfolded it, running a finger along the worn crease in the center, "In the middle ages, women used to give knights favors in return for galant acts and all that jazz… but, uh, that tradition died out long ago. You've saved me a lot Steve, and in a lot of different ways too… so, um…" Steve watched with a curious crease between his brows as she gently began to tear the picture down the middle, seperating her face from Kenneth's. "I want you to have this. As a favor, so to speak. I think out of anyone here, you're the one who most deserves to have this." She extended her right hand, offering half of the picture to him; reaching out tentatively, Steve accepted half of the photograph and looked down at the black and white image of her.
"Art… I can't accept this, this is a picture of you and your brother––" Steve began, but was cut off by her quiet laugh and her smile.
"Damn, you're such a good guy…" Art murmured before looking up at him with happiness in her eyes. "I don't need a picture of myself, I just need the half with my brother. Please, take it." Steve looked back down at the picture and smiled again, removing the small sketch book from his pocket so he could slip the photograph into its cover, making a mental note to find a better place for it later.
"Thank you," he told her, the truthful tone of his warm voice making a little shiver run down her spine. Art blushed and looked down at her boots before moving a step forward.
"No. Thank you," she replied before stretching up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. With that she smiled shyly and ducked her head, moving off to head into the rain, wondering if that action would come back to bite her in the ass one day; but Steve, who stood in a minor state of shock in her wake, smiled widely at the back of the ammunition tent, feeling as though the sun had just peeked through the cloudy skies.
OOOO
"Alright, men, we need to discuss our next plan of attack," Steve said to the majority of the Howling Commandos gathered around the large table in their London safe-house bunker. Their Captain stood before a wall-sized map, eyeing the red 'H' pin that represented their next target. "I think we should utilize the strategies that worked the last time and work on fixing the ones that didn't span out too smoothly. Now, Falsworth––"
"Where's Knoll?" Dugan asked pointedly, leaning back in his seat, feet kicked up on the table. Steve froze and blinked at the map before letting out a breath and straightening his back.
"She is unable to attend this meeting, but I assure you that I will catch her up on all the proper details at a later time. Now as I was saying, Falsworth, I think that––"
"Unable to attend or skipped out on us?" The tone of Dugan's voice was flat but insulting. He was clearly the most put out about Art's situation; he hadn't been Sarge's biggest fan in the first place, but fighting along side her in their group of Commandos had gained his trust, his respect, his friendship… and to learn that he'd been lied to, and in his mind he believed he'd been maniuplated, fractured that trust and the feeling of comrade ship. A sharp intake of breath was sucked in through Steve's nose as he calmly turned and leveled a stern gaze at the mustached man across the table. His blond brows pulled low over his blue eyes, which normally had a very calm look in them… but now they were steely… unsettling.
"Men, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. Sergeant Knoll deserves every ounce of respect you paid her before you were called into Phillips' tent and told the truth; whether she goes by the name Arthur or Artemesia, Kensinton or Knoll, she is still our comrade, our friend who we have fought beside and come to know," Steve said in a low, commanding voice. Jim shifted in his seat with discomfort on his face; he glanced at his fellow men and then leaned forward saying,
"But we were lied to."
"Yes, we were."
"Then why should we trust her?" Dugan asked with narrowed eyes, soon finding Steve's hard gaze back on him. He braced both hands on the table and slowly moved his eyes to let them fall on each of them… Bucky, Falsworth, Jim, Dugan, Gabe, and Jaques.
"Because she's just like us. Art is risking her life for our country like each and every one of us here, and she's pledged herself to take down HYDRA with whatever means necessary, just like us. So what if she's a woman? Agent Carter is a woman, do you show her any disrespect?" Silence. "I thought not. So what's the difference begween Peggy and Artie? Both of them are strong, inspiring women; think on that the next time you decide to give Sergeant Knoll the cold sholder, fellas." Steve pushed away from the table, cleared his throat, straightened his jacket and turned back to the map. The men remained silent, fidgeting on occaison. "So our next plan of attack…"
OOOO
Art indeed found herself unable to attend the strategy meeting; instead, she was seated beside Peggy in a car that was headed to the same bunker since she apparently had a meeting with Howard Stark to discuss a new uniform of some sort. Peggy was driving, eyes directed to the rainy streets ahead of them, an easy silence resting between them. Both women had never had the chance to develop much of a friendship, especially since Peggy had always been Art's commanders and the former had never known she was a woman, a point which the two would definitely find a bonding point. Peggy's gaze slid briefly over to her passenger, who looked tired and slightly dazed, her blue eyes staring out the window with a glazed look.
"I fell as though I should tell you something…" the Agent admitted sheepishly as they slowed to a stop at a busy street corner. Art, snapped out of her daze by the Englishwoman's voice, turned to look at her with a brighter look in her eyes.
"And what would that 'something' be?" she asked curiously, scratching at the back of her neck. Peggy cleared her throat and took in a deep breath.
"I'm afraid I must admit to something I can't say I'm all too proud of… I… may have been the one who overheard your conversation with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes… and I may have been the one who reported it to Phillips," Peggy answered. Her gaze was straight-forward and steady, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as she waited for Art's reaction. Said woman stared at her unmoving and wide-eyed for a very long moment, lips parting in shock.
"You?" Artmesia questioned, brows drawing together. Peggy sighed and nodded as she parked and shut off the car, the light pattering of rain filling the silence; turning towards the Sergeant, her soft brown curls bounced around her shoulder as she continued to speak.
"Yes. But I swear I didn't do so on malicious intent. I overheard the conversation and did what I knew was right; I told the Colonel who said he would look into it and it was only then that I began to worry. I understand the hardships of being a woman in the military and I fear that you must know them as well, even more so now that I revealed your secret…" Her voice trailed off and she cast her eyes towards her hands in a worried, sheepish look Art had never seen on the Agent before; Peggy was a strong woman. She'd shot at Steve without a glance because she wanted to make a point, she turned down each of Bucky's advances without a bat of her eyelashes and she proved her right to be there every single day. And now she was worried. Art rubbed the lower half of her face, her mind wandering slightly for a moment.
"It's alright," she finally said, voice soft. "Like you said… you were doing what was right and it was bound to happen sometime and I suppose I was lucky it was you who did it. If it had been Dugan I'm sure I would have been immediately imprisoned. I'm glad you told me now; if you'd admitted this a week ago I probably would have thrown a fit of some sort, but… I've had to come to terms with a lot of things these last few days and I can't put you at fault for enacting the inevitable. Don't worry, Peggy." A smile crept up Peggy's lips and both women smiled at each other briefly before they carried on to see what wonders Stark was surely to show them.
Almost immediately after entering the bunker's workshop, a mustached man with slicked back brown hair swept towards them with a bright smile and twinkling brown eyes. He was dressed finely for someone who sat at a workbench most of the day; his button down was unwrinkled, his suspenders were dead straight and his tie was utterly perfect. Just from his appearance, Art could tell the rumors of him being a ladies' man were true.
"Ah, you must be Sergeant Artemsia Knoll," he stated, stretching out a hand with a large grin. She smiled at him and nodded.
"Indeed I am." Art extended her hand and slipped it into his, expecting a handshake; however, the moment her palm met his, he flipped her hand so he held it delicately by the fingers, raising the back of it so he could kiss the back of it. He gave a boyish smirk and relished the look of surprise in her eyes. Peggy rolled her eyes and stayed a foot behind Art, ready to shoot Stark down if he became too fresh.
"You've been quite the talk around here; dare I say, you might even be the super star of the week. Howard Stark, at your humble service," he winked at her as he let her hand come to rest at her side again. She glanced over at Peggy, who rolled her eyes again, letting Art know that this was his typical behavior.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark," she said with a smile. He shoved his hands into his pockets and blew out a breath of air, face scrunching up as though what she'd called him was absurd.
"Please, call me Howard; we're all friends here. So!" He clapped his hands together and then gestured her towards a workbench that he'd been sitting at moments before she'd swept into the room. As they walked he continued to talk, using his hands to gesture every now and then. "Since you're a woman, you have clearly been disguising yourself as a man this entire time, and I'm sure it hasn't been all that comfortable…" He pulled a wince and turned to face Art again, briefly letting his eyes wander towards her chest before snapping back up to her face. "Let me guess; bandages? I thought so. Therefore I have been commissioned to help find you a more comfortable way to… how shall I say this… hide your feminimity." Art's eyebrows rose as she smirked, crossing her arms. He was quite the character, that was for sure, and she couldn't help but smile at the way he talked and moved.
"Oh, have you?" she asked in a flat tone that still managed to convey her amusement. He smirked back and leaned up against the workbench.
"Oh, yes I have. Take a look." He slid a paper towards her, stepping up to Art's side so he could explain. On the page was the tentative sketch of a new piece of her uniform; the drawings looked all very technical and had multiple mini sketches for different details. "So what I'll be doing for you is creating what is going to be… innovative. The best way I've come to describe it is a reversed corset without the whole… synching of the waist and the difficulty breathing and tightness shit that corsets actually do. It'll be designed like a vest that you'll just wear under your shirt; it'll flatten out your chest to make you more masculine and it'll definitely be more comfortable and more convenient than all of those bandages you've probably been hoarding like a rat. Like I said, you'll be able to breath just fine and it shouldn't cause too much pressure––if anything, there should be less than what you're experiencing now. And, of course, since you're a soldier, I figured I might as well make sure it could stop a bullet," he explained with a pleased smile on his face.
"Golly…" she murmured, looking at the intricacy of the design on the paper before her. "You sure have an eye for design, Mr. Star––Howard…" He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Well it is my profession."
"If this works, I'll owe you one."
"Then let's make sure it works. I'll just need a few measurements to make the fit absolutely perfect and natural if that's alright; Agent Carter here has insisted that she do it so you aren't uncomfortable even though I would be nothing but gentlemanly." His words were directed at the Englishwoman over Art's shoulder, who scoffed and snatched up the yellow measuring tape off the tabletop.
"It would just give you another opportunity to flirt and we all know how you get when you do that," Peggy deadpanned. "We'll be back momentarily." As the two women stepped out of the room, Howard smirked and pulled out the various fabrics and materials he would need for the innovative piece of, what was essentially, armor. He began measuring and marking off proper lengths with a pencil that he then stuck behind his ear when a familiar blond stepped into the room.
"Ah, Captain Rogers! What can I do for you today?" he asked with his signature smile. Steve let out a long breath and shook his head.
"Nothing, actually, I was looking for Sergeant Knoll," Steve replied, looking around the room. Howard gestured to the doors he'd just walked through.
"She's having some measurements taken, she'll be back shortly; and my god, she is something isn't she?" His smile was slightly crooked as he leaned up against the workbench again; Steve's brows pulled together and a slightly displeased curl appeared on his lip as he stared at the look on Howard's face. He knew that look. That was the look Stark wore when he flirted with Peggy and when he tried to impress her. "I'm surprised the men in your regiment didn't notice there was a woman in their presence because, damn… she's beautiful. We've got Peggy and now we have Artmesia. All us fellas are lucky to have such strong women around aren't we?" Steve cleared his throat lightly and nodded in agreement at the last statement Howard had made.
"Yeah," he replied, a truthful tone in his voice. "We are."
OOOO
The day melted into evening and evening brought the promise of another night at the pub. As had become usual in the past week, Art found herself sitting alone at a table across the room from the rest of her fellow Commandos, a pint glass by her hand as she stayed quiet with a pensive look on her face. Sometimes if Steve joined them, he would sit with her and they'd make pleasant conversation, smiling and laughing; however Steve wasn't anywhere to be seen, but that evening she had the luxury of being able to read through her mail. One from Florence who remarked about the photos Art had sent in her previous letter, saying that the company she found herself in seemed to be friendly. Another excitedly scribbled one from Kenneth, his words making her smile and she could picture him smiling as he avoided his homework to write to her. And the third and final letter was a long awaited one from the man who'd given her his name; yes, the true Arthur Kensington had taken it upon himself to respond to the letter she'd written him a month prior. He said that her letter had gotten lost in the post but that he hoped to keep up their correspondance as much as possible.
But after the written words ran out and the letters wer slipped back into her coat pocket, Art was alone with her thoughts and a pint of ale. Bucky, from his seat with the rest of the Commandos, stared at her over the rim of his own glass, his foot tapping repeatedly against the floor. It had been a week… a full week in which he hadn't spoken more than a few simple sentences to her with a straight face; and it had been hard, especially since they were tent-mates and couldn't avoid each other forever. Half way through the week she gave up on attempting conversation other than 'lights out' when they turned out their lamps. It honestly killed him and he could barely take much more. After another moment of watching his friend quietly lean back in her chair and stare at her half-empty glass, Bucky abruptly rose to his feet and lifted his pint glass. The others looked at him quizzically, unsure of what he was doing.
"Excuse me, gents, but I've got a friend I need to talk to," he said before making his way across the room. The others watched as he stopped at Art's table, who stared up at him surprise while, with a soft smile, Bucky asked to sit. She slowly nodded and he seated himself across from her, beginning to talk slowly in what looked to be explanation or apology.
His decision seemed to start a reaction among the Commandos. Next, Falsworth cleared his throat and smiled at the rest of his comrades from under his mustache.
"Lads, I believe our Captain is right and I have a rather lovely woman to chat up," the Englishman proclaimed before crossing the room to join Bucky and a more enthusiastic looking Art. He pulled up his own chair beside her and knocked the edge of his glass with hers, sending a charming smile to the woman at his side. After Falsworth moved Gabe did as well and shortly after Jaques followed example; Jim tilted his glass towards a blank-faced Dugan while he said,
"Can't deny that Cap was right." And with that, he joined the others.
Art found herself laughing in the company of friends again, a slight amount of disbelief still on her face that they'd all up and left their own table to come sit with her. Each had apologized upon arrival before asking to pull up a seat to the rather small circular table. Five or so minutes passed after Jim's arrival and then a new face appeared. It was Dugan. He cleared his throat and everyone went quiet, looking up at him curiously. He opened his mouth and stayed silent for a moment, the proper words unable to form in his face.
"We were assholes," he finally said, swirling the drink in his glass. "I'm sorry." A smile spread over Art's face and she nodded to a chair.
"Yeah, you were all assholes. But you did have some right to be. Pull up a chair, Dugan, we can start over… again," she said with a smile, holding up her glass for a toast. With a tiny smirk, Dugan knocked his glass against hers, a cheer rising from the others as they joined the toast, patting each other on the back as Dugan pulled up a seat.
When Steve walked into the pub, he hadn't expected to see each one of the Commandos crammed around a tiny circular table, listening intently and laughing as Art told them a story; a smile pulled across Steve's lips as he watched, glad that their little group was on the path to normalcy. Shrugging off his jacket, Steve made his way towards them, hoping that this sense of peace and normality would be prolonged into the future.
References:
Chapter name–– Katie Cruel is a traditional Scottish-American folk song that dates back to the American Revolution; I used the lyrics beneath the chapter name as inspiration for the bar scene and the way the Commandos initially act towards her, 'cause I was listening to the song and thought, 'hey, that actually fits really well!' Highly recommend you give it a listen (the version that was on TURN: Washington's Spies, which was sung by Agnes Obel).
Afterword: Three chapters within a week or two. I'm on a roll aren't I? The strange thing is, I've been trying to write chapters for my other stories but I keep getting distracted by the sudden burst of inspiration I've had for this one… and I just had to write this chapter. I admit I'm not that much of a fan of the conversation with Peggy or the way I ended the chapter, but I do like a vast majority of this chapter :) I hope you do too.
And a note about my portrayal of Dugan in this chapter; I love Dugan and I don't mean to demean him, so I hope it didn't come off that way in this chapter! I just figured that since I initially wrote him in as a bit dubious/rebellious towards Art, that he'd be the one most put off about the fact she'd been lying. It'll be sorta like the Bucky situation; he may have apologized but it'll take a while to feel fully trusting towards her again.
REVIEW REPLIES!
dany1114: The recordings will reappear a couple of times throughout the whole of this story (meaning later on in this one and in Avengers and Cap. America: The Winter Soldier); I'm glad you picked up on the tapes being a prominent part of the last half of the chapter :) I'm really looking forward to writing the Smithsonian scene in the Winter Soldier––I have plans! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!
MF 22: I sent you a message regarding your review and I will once again thank you for pointing out my mistake in Phillips' rank! I fixed everything in last chapter so he should be represented correctly :) thank you again!
Kat7CA: Ohhh, Howard did indeed flirt with her a little bit… and more of that is to come, I promise ;) also, there I admit there will be a hint of Buck/Art flirtation, 'casue, c'mon… it's Bucky! I've had a cute scene written for a while (I just need to find it…) and it should be coming up at some point soon. We'll soon find out what happens to Art since the end creeps nearer and nearer… and oh BOY do I have plans! I hope you'll stick around to read what they are! Thanks again!
Jo: I'm glad to hear you're so excited to keep on reading! This chapter covered a lot of ground so I hope it wasn't too hectic :) Can't wait to see you next chapter! Thanks again!
Kindleflame5: Again, I'm glad I addressed your confusion as to when in the movie we currently are :) And I once again thank you for your suggestions on Art and the serum and what not; I hope you'll keep on reading to see what I ultimately decide on! Also, the Queen of Hearts chap is nearly done, so that'll be up wicked soon :) Thanks again!
And thank you to those who have added this to their favorites/alerts, it means a lot to me!
So. Hope the chapter wasn't too horrible :P I'm really glad you're all enjoying this story! I hope to get the next one up soon so you can keep on reading! Thanks again, you guys!
~Mary
