When the lights go on again all over the world
And the boys are home again all over the world
And rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above
A kiss won't mean "goodbye" but "hello to love"
When the lights go on again all over the world
And the ships will sail again all over the world
Then we'll have time for things like wedding rings and free hearts will sing
When the lights go on again all over the world
When the Lights Go On Again by Vera Lynn
New Years was a quiet affair. Few felt like celebrating as 1944 brought in yet another year at war. There were a few muttered toasts but mostly everyone carried on with their work.
Emily officially moved from the bunker to the house that Howard had purchased in South Bank.
It was a pleasant walk into central London from the house. She could have taken the train in to get there faster, but Em found herself walking most days to avoid the oppressive stuffiness of remaining underground for another 30 minutes.
In other words, Emily needed the walk to keep herself from going mad and feeling as though she had joined the mole people.
Also, it gave her some time alone from Howard, who was spending most nights working - when she was able to drag him away from the bunker lab he almost inevitably went to the basement where he'd built himself another lab. On the rare occasion, she was able to get him to eat something; Em never fancied herself a foodie but she would have killed for some crushed red pepper flakes or other spices to make the boiled food less bland.
But Em spent most nights at the house alone, the radio the only thing to break the silence.
Em wondered how people didn't go crazy with boredom. There were only so many times she could stand to clean, and while she had access to a few books, she eventually got tired of rereading them.
Mostly, she wrote in the evenings, keeping up with the two journals she had started the year before. One was kept for her daily notes, jotting down what Howard was working on, any news that she'd heard from Steve, and the events of the day. Her second journal was much more private. In it, she let herself wonder if she'd ever make it home, if she would ever see her family again (she received some letters from her parents and Tucker - who was apparently an officer in the Navy - but it wasn't the same), and if she would ever go back to work. As much as it was a thrill to see history play out in person, she missed going to her office and working on her next project, planning lessons, and even grading!
And most of all - and she acknowledged the pompousness of this - Emily missed being addressed as Dr. Harthorn. Now she was 'Sweetie', 'Doll', 'Stark's girl'...she'd worked just as hard for her doctorate as Howard's lab techs but everyone just saw her as a woman trailing after a genius, making notes, and taking coffee orders.
To keep herself sane and to maintain her academic self worth, Em took to writing articles. Howard had provided her with a typewriter, which Em took full advantage of when she wasn't busy with anything else. She collected newspapers, spoke to the neighbors and other women in the bunker for their views, and just wrote. Paper piled up on her bedside table as she worked in the tiny bed, away from Howard's prying eyes. Emily cursed when she made a typo, wishing that the correction was as simple as hitting the backspace button.
And when she was finally satisfied with her analysis, writing, and lack of typos, Em placed the article into a nearly full hat box under her bed.
OOO
"They took my plane!" Howard yelled as he entered the lab, yanking off his tie and throwing it to the ground. Emily jumped, sloshing a bit of tea over her paperwork. Cursing she quickly snatched it up, watching as the words dripped away.
"What?" she snarled, trying to slow her beating heart.
"The damn Army took my plane - told me I wasn't allowed to fly anymore," he scowled.
Huffing, Em took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd had a headache coming on all day and felt annoyed because she had a constant feeling of missing something. "Did they requisition the plane or just ground you?"
"It's the same damn thing!" Howard shouted.
"It's not," Em snapped. "One is a legal matter and the other is a safety one. If it's requisitioned, the Army is taking your property, and if they grounded you, it's because we're in a damn war zone."
"They said it was 'too dangerous' for me to fly," he said, rolling his eyes. "That I'm 'too valuable' to the war effort."
"Well at least they stroked your ego," she sighed. "They've placed the same restriction on Dr. Oppenheimer. Now if there's nothing else, I'd like to head home."
Howard stared at her, clearly unhappy with her lack of outrage on his behalf. "Fine, you can go."
"Thank you."
"I'll get one of the MPs to drive you."
"I'll walk," Em said, sliding off her chair and stretching.
"Don't be ridiculous," Howard said, waving her off. "It's nearly nine."
OOO
The private who drove her was a chatty one, but Em tuned him out. The White Hall roads were pretty much empty and the few cars they came across were difficult to see at a distance - per blackout rules, headlights were pointed at the ground and the street lamps were dimmed. Civilian Air Raid Precaution Wardens were only too happy to yell at anyone violating the blackout. Em vaguely remembered something about there being a spike in car accidents any time a blackout drill was practiced in the US.
They were almost to the end of the Westminster Bridge when the private stopped speaking. "Do ya hear that?" he asked after a moment.
Em, who had been dozing off, hummed. "What?"
"That noise… do ya hear it?"
He pulled the Jeep to the side of the road and jumped out, pulling a pair of binoculars from the back seat. "What is it?" Em asked, stepping out as well.
"It sounds like - " he started, only to be cut off by the air raid siren. "Fuck! Get in!" Em just managed to when he whipped the Jeep around and headed back towards the bunker.
They could hear planes overhead. And then it clicked.
It was January 21, 1944.
Germany had launched Operation Steinbock, also known as the Baby Blitz.
The night lit up at Waterloo was hit and Em looked up at the sky in terror. Dozens of planes were overhead, any of which could drop a bomb right on them - they had the misfortune of being in a target rich area in central London.
"Keep your head down," the private ordered, throwing a glance at her. In a bomb flash, she saw how pale he was - the boy couldn't be more than seventeen… he was as young as many of her students but already at war. And, rather than being able to assure him that everything would be fine, she could only stare at him in open mouth terror.
Even though she'd been living on the periphery of the war for over a year, Emily hadn't really experienced it. This… this was a rude awakening to the realities of those who lived during the war.
Living an event was so different from reading about it.
Emily wondered fleetingly what it would mean if she died her.
The Brits had begun to return fire, the deep "boom" joining the never ending chorus of the air raid siren and plane propellers. There were a few more bombs dropped, and the private swore and jerked the wheel as the car on the opposite side of the road veered towards them.
"Head down!" he repeated as a plane flew close. Em placed her hand on the dash as she ducked low. They were nearing the end of the bridge when the plane circled back and released its load.
The Palace of Westminster was struck and it went up in flames.
"Fuck!" he yelled, swerving to avoid the flames that shot out as he slammed on the brakes. The Jeep skid to a stop, narrowly missing a large piece of debris blocking the road. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, you?" she asked, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"Let's get the hell out of here," he snarled, getting the car back into gear and navigating around the piece of roof. They turned onto White Chapel on two wheels and tore up the empty street. The engine was loud in the corridor that led to the bunker, and the private threw the car into park as they reached it.
"Come on!" he ordered, motioning for Em to get out of the car. Once she'd crawled across the seat, he grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the entrance where he banged on the steel door. "Let us in!"
"Who's it?" Rifles were pointed at them when the door was thrown open but quickly lowered when Emily was pushed forward.
"Who'd ya think it was?" the private snapped, cuffing one of the men on the back of the head.
Em only had a moment to take it in before she heard someone yell and a pair of arms wrapped around her.
"Christ, Harthorn!" Howard breathed, pulling away to study her. He pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it to her nose. "Are you alright?!"
"I," she started before swallowing hard. It took her a moment to focus enough to look at the chaos going on around her. People were running about, yelling orders and trying to pass along intel. Overhead, bombs continued to drop, making dust drift down. Telephones rang loudly and -
"Emily!" Howard said, snapping his fingers in front of her face.
"I think the house was hit," she said. "It looked like Waterloo was hit, and the house is there. I didn't see for sure but it could have been."
He frowned and wrapped an arm around her, leading her towards his lab. Em vaguely heard him muttering to himself - "Shouldn't have let you go", "Could have been killed", "My fault" - before they reached the workshop. Howard guided her towards her desk and pushed her into the chair before rushing off. He returned a few minutes later and wrapped his coat around her and pressed a glass of brandy into her hands.
"Drink up," he ordered. When she didn't move, he guided the glass to her lips.
The alcohol brought her back to her senses, as did Howard's constant examination. "What?" she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by the handkerchief she'd reapplied.
"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching up to pull a bit of rubble and ash from her hair.
"Yes."
"Where were you?"
"On the bridge," Emily replied while wiping her nose. It had thankfully stopped bleeding. "Westminster was hit."
"Fucking Nazi scum," Howard growled. "Come on, Phillips may want to talk to you."
He didn't. The colonel had taken one look at Emily and sent her off - the private had given him all the intel necessary. So instead, Howard led her back to the lab and pushed her back towards her desk. He'd retrieved the blanket and pillow Em had stashed in the lab for when he slept there. "Just stay there, where I can keep an eye on you," he ordered.
It was sweet how he would look over at her every time a bomb would explode. But eventually the adrenaline that had kept Em on her feet ran out and she fell asleep leaning back against the wall.
OOO
The attack only lasted 30 minutes but another wave hit just before dawn. It would kick off a four month campaign.
London was hit again a week later.
The bunker took a direct hit on February 20th.
"There you are." Emily looked up from the newspaper she was reading and saw Peggy walking towards her.
"You're back," she said, setting aside the paper. Peggy's eyes flickered over it, taking in the headline.
"Yes. Howard told me you had a bit of excitement while I was away."
Em grimaced, which made Peggy smile as she sat beside her. "You could call it that."
Peggy smiled again and reached for the paper. "May I?" Em pushed it towards her. "Thankfully it seems like they're mostly using incendiary bombs," she said. "They burn a lot, but the government's run programs to teach civilians on how to put out the fires. Overall less damaging than ordinance."
"Small blessing?"
"Yes, that's what I said to Howard. I've also heard that he's being unreasonable and not allowing you to leave the bunker."
"He somehow keeps finding projects that keep me here past blackout. I'm pretty sure he's just having me fill out the same form over and over again."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "The bunker is one of the safest places in London to be during a bombing, but it can be stifling. The house has a basement, doesn't it?"
"And a bomb shelter in the garden," Em added. "And it wasn't damaged in the initial attack."
"I'll speak to Howard about letting you go home if you'd like."
"That would be amazing! I mean, it'd be a bit nerve wracking being there at night but being away from here…" she trailed off, looking around the lab.
Peggy chuckled. "It does come with some risk but if you take precautions you should be alright. I can go with you and walk you through the bomb drill procedure."
"I appreciate that. And if you ever want to escape here, my door is always open."
"I'll hold you to that."
OOO
It took little time for Peggy to work her magic. With a few hours before blackout, they were sitting in the kitchen and drinking tea, having already gone over safety procedures.
"Mmm…" Peggy hummed over her cup. "Howard always knew how to find the good stuff."
"It is rather fortuitous that he is so well tapped into the black market," Em agreed as she stirred more sugar into her tea.
They were quiet for a bit longer before Peggy spoke. "This all must seem very foreign to you - it's a long way from Massachusetts," she added when Em gave her a confused look.
"It definitely is," she agreed. "I never imagined that I would be here… experiencing this."
Nodding, Peggy set her cup down. "It does have the added benefit of being closer to Steve."
"When he's here," Em shrugged then conceided," but it's more than I would see of him if I were back in the States."
They were quiet again. "Emily, how many languages do you speak?"
"What?" she asked. Peggy raised an eyebrow. "English and French. Some sign language - it's a bit rusty - and I read German with some help."
"Right. Don't tell anyone that. Just let them think you speak rudimentary French."
"What? Why?" Em asked, a bit thrown by the conversation.
"My contacts at the SOE have been making inquiries about you. I think you're better placed as Howard's keeper, but they want to train you to operate behind enemy lines."
"They want me to be a spy?" Emily squeaked.
"An operative," Peggy corrected. "Like I was before I was loaned to the SSR." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Those were thrilling days."
"Oh?" Em gave her an encouraging smile, hoping that she would discuss it - back home, she'd recently started researching women's roles during World War II and had wanted to include the SOE.
"Yes. That's how I met Dr. Erskine. He was being held by Hydra - Schmidt wanted him to perfect his formula - and I was ordered to extract him." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a golden powder compact. "It was the closest I ever came to needing this."
Emily felt her heart stop. She hadn't known that Peggy had rescued her grandfather - she remembered them talking about her approaching him in Augsburg back at their New York apartment - but hadn't known it was a rescue operation. Her grandfather hadn't written anything about it in his journals, and she hadn't seen it mentioned in any of the files SHIELD had provided her.
"Emily?" Peggy said after a moment.
"Huh? Oh," Em cleared her throat and nodded towards the compact. "What's that?"
Peggy regarded her for a moment before answering. "All women who complete SOE training receive one. Vera Atkins provides it, in case we need to use it as a bribe when in the field."
"Cool," Em replied before correcting herself. "I mean, that's pretty swell."
"It is," Peggy nodded.
Author's Note: Like the Wardens in the UK, the US had their own black out drills, overseen by the Office of Civilian Defense, which was really set up to allow civilians feel as though they were adding to the war efforts. While the drills were were well publicized by the government prior to one occurring, they were incredibly dangerous when first done in the US - they were but still people panicked and there was a spike in car accidents. Civilian plane spotters reported "enemy aircrafts" over cities which also caused panic following Pearl Harbor, but there's little/no evidence of actual enemy planes flown over the country. If you're interested in what the US was experiencing just prior to entering WWII, I cannot recommend December 1941: 31 Days that Changed America and Saved the World by Craig Shirley enough - it's rich in detail (what was going on in DC, across the country, and in Hollywood) while being completely approachable and enjoyable to read.
Vera Atkins was the head of the French Section of the SOE and would often accompany agents to the airfields from which they would depart for France, and would carry out final security checks before waving them off. She also spent a lot of time after the War looking for missing female SOE operatives to bring information back to their families. Women who were recruited weren't told what was going on prior to them meeting with an SOE recruiter, but had their name put forth by a trusted source who then encouraged the woman to accept a meeting. At that point, they would be tested on their language skills and discretion. This was for both the SOE and women who worked at Bletchley Park. This, and a lot more interesting info, can be found in Women Wartime Spies by Ann Kramer.
Peggy rescuing Erskine is from MCU Guidebook: The Avengers Initiative. I haven't entirely adhered to Erskine's history (in the comics, Schmidt used his wife and children as leverage to get him to work, and they were forced into Dachu concentration camp where they later died of typhus) but thought that it was a good addition to the fic.
Yay! An update that didn't take months! I managed to outline 5 chapters prior to going on vacation, and was able to crank out this one and some of the next chapter during said vacation and while I was at my parents' to escape Irma. Em's time in the past coming to an end, which I'm pretty excited about. As you can probably guess, this isn't going to be compliant with AoU or Civil War. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!