It was a hard week for everyone. Rosie wasn't talking to Steve, her letters had stopped fluttering through the door and she hadn't invited them over for dinner. She did ask Bucky to come over one night before he left, and he had arranged to go to her's the next night. Tonight however, he was convincing Steve to come with him to the science fair, and make up with his girl while he was at it.

"Steve, you need to make things right. I know the pair of you are just as stubborn as mules but if ya don't then I'll be on the edge of my seat the whole time I'm away!" Bucky jokes, then sighed at the withering glare he was given. "Listen I know you both think you're right, but you love her, make it right. Apologise for hurting her feelings and take her out tonight!"

"She won't wanna go! She's probably better off," Steve frowned, sketching something on his spot on the couch.

"Yeah right, well if you won't ask your girl on a date then you're gonna third wheel mine, there's no way in hell that I'm leaving you behind,"

"Fine!" Steve growled, getting ready.

The pair of them met up with Bucky's girl of the evening, and watched the show Stark put on. It was amazing, even Steve in his mood saw that. But he couldn't stop thinking about how Rosie would have loved it. She'd have found a spot she could have sat down and drowned the whole thing out, or yelled questions from the audience.

After the show Bucky was pulled away by his date, and after shooting Steve a sly wink he went with her. Leaving Steve to look at the arm conscription tent and try his luck, one last time.

He sat in front of Dr Erskine and tried to take it all in. He was still questioning him, going through his hate of bullies and general reasoning for doing what he was doing, but the last question threw him for a loop.

"What's the most important thing to you?" He asked, his kind eyes appraising Steve as he sat there.

Steve thought about it. His mind immediately supplied the image from christmas, Bucky and Rosie sat together, laughing. He knew that the answer they were probably looking for was 'my country' and he almost gave it, it was there, on the tip of his tongue. But as he started to say it he saw the image even clearer, and couldn't bring himself to lie.

"My family," He said sincerely. And the good Dr nodded, giving him his papers and information to be at the right place for the pick up.

Steve stood in front of Rosie's door that night, unable to knock as he held the papers in his hands. He knew he couldn't leave without telling her, without making it right. Even if she decided to hate him, which he understood, he had to tell her the truth, and say goodbye.

As if she had sensed it, had known that very second that Steve was outside her door waiting for her, she opened it. Dressed in her flowing pale blue nightgown, all floating taffeta and curls she stood in the doorway, her face a mixture of surprise, heartbreak, and resolve.

"So," She said, looking him up and down, eyes landing on the papers in his hands.

"I- I leave tomorrow," He said, hoping it would explain everything he had come to say all at once.

"Oh," She looked at the ground, her hair falling in soft waves in front of her face. Steve remembered the few times he'd touched that hair, how he wished to do so again, but was unsure if it was welcome. The silence drew on for a second, before he steeled himself.

"I'm sorry,"

"I-" Rosie started but then stopped, her voice giving out. It was unlike her to struggle for words, but she looked cowed by the situation.

"I just came here to say, I haven't changed my mind, I still have to go. But i'm going because I have to. If I stayed I wouldn't be a man deserving of you. And I certainly wouldn't be me,"

"Remember when you said you'd do anything for me?" Rosie asked, her voice gentle, "You said you couldn't say no to me,"

"I remember Rosie," He said.

"I never really asked did I. I never outright said, please Steve, stay here with me," She softly continued, looking up at him for the first time.

"If you say that, I'll stay," He promised, knowing now that it was true. He'd hate it, he'd hate himself. But if she asked him to, in that voice of hers, he couldn't say no. He wasn't strong enough.

"You'd hate me for it." She said, and as he opened his mouth to protest she raised her hand, stopping him. He noticed she was still wearing his necklace. "You would. As much as I hate this, and want you to stay with me, I know there's no way you'd survive it. That would kill you."

Steve looked at her, thankful and heartbroken at her tragic face.

"But Steve, if you're going to do this, I need you to do something for me,"

"Anything," he promised, stepping closer to her and reaching his hand out to her face, not touching her but letting it hang there, an open invitation. She took his hand and placed it on her cheek, and he sighed, finally feeling the warmth of her skin on his again.

"When all those girls start fawning over you in your fancy army uniform remember I got here first yeah?" She joked, her eyes welling up slightly as she looked at him. He laughed, and felt a little bit like this was goodbye.

"I'll send em to your door," He said, puzzled over how he was so lucky to find a girl like this.

"I'll be ready, you recon Buck would loan me a gun?"

She leaned into him, pressing her nose to the base of his neck, holding him tightly against her like she could press him into her skin and keep him there, safe from harm.

"I think Buck would do anything you asked. You have him wrapped around your little finger Doll, just like me." Steve admitted, kissing her forehead. Since her head was bowed he could reach, and it sent a flush of warmth through her body.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" She asked quietly, a seriousness to her voice that wasn't there before. Steve flushed and frowned, thinking over all things his mother would say if he agreed to do so. He was sure that he'd be smited down by her wrath all the way from heaven.

"Why'd you want that Doll? It isn't… proper. I wouldn't wanna ruin your reputation, I couldn't do that to my best Gal," He murmured, stroking her hair.

"Steve, You're going to training, and then you're going to war. I just want to sleep next to you before you go."

"I'm up early tomorrow," He warned, his resolve breaking. Like he said to her before. Anything she asked him to do, it was hers.

"You can leave without waking me. It's probably for the best. I don't think I'd let you go otherwise," She said, gently taking his hand and leading him inside her apartment.

They slept soundly that night, Steve held her in his arms and she held him back. She wrapped her hand in his shirt where it hung off of him and gripped it tightly, like she was afraid he'd run away. Her small warm breaths against his cheek steadied him, and he could barely sleep with the contentment in his chest. He wanted to, he was tired, but he didn't want to miss a single moment. He decided to let himself fall asleep when he started hallucinating; however, he thought he saw the balcony doors shut when Rosie shivered, and the blankets creeped a little closer to her chin without her touching them.

He woke up earlier then she did that morning, and looking at the clock on her nightstand knew he had to leave. He reluctantly left the fluffy white covers, and watched her for a second, her dark hair haloing around her head, her petite body at sea in the mountain of soft white that surrounded her. Perfect, like a blot of ink on a page, or a rose petal against silk. He looked at the clock again, and couldn't help himself, he pulled out his journal and sketched her quickly and quietly. Only giving himself ten minutes he managed to copy her down, as much as he could anyway, and using a piece of paper he kept in the back of the journal, wrote her a short note.

He left it in the spot he had just vacated, and kissed his hand, briefly pressing it to her forehead and then leaving, without a backwards glance to force him to stay.

He noticed that the wine was unusually strong as he left, pushing him back towards her door, but didn't turn to see Rosie peering out from her balcony, watching him leave with tears in her eyes.

Steve's training camp was hell.

He made it there, and immediately found that the camaraderie of the army didn't transmit to him. A couple of the men targeted him specifically, but he bore it. Thinking of Rosie at home, waiting for him, and knew he had to keep going and protect her. When the first mail call came he almost laughed out loud, seeing the small stack of papers that were for him. All various colours and patterns.

When he sat on his bed and read them he almost cried. She wrote that she had continued writing letters to post though his door, little stupid notes on anything she thought he would like, but when she went to post them she realised that neither of her boys were home (He liked that, being one of her boys) and had to go out and get stamps. Apparently she had written nearly as many for Bucky, and sent them along with some provisions. What that meant was beyond Steve, but he was sure it wasn't the normal cigarettes knowing Rosie.

She sent him a new picture, she had it taken in one of her dresses, all dolled up and beautiful as ever, smiling at the camera for him. He put it with the others in his sketchbook, and tied all her letters with a ribbon she had sent along inside. He gently put them both under his pillow, and when he came back to the guys going through them all after dinner, he wasn't surprised, but he was furious.

"There's no WAY this is his girl," One of them said, looking at the picture she had sent him this week, handing it over to one of the others when he nudged him.

"She's here with this other guy in this one! Probably his friends girl or something, feels bad for him,"

"Nah, he sends em to himself I bet, what girl sends that many letters?"

"Give those back, now!" Steve barked, walking into the tent and trying to snatch them back. The men laughed, and passed them around again.

"Nah, I think i'll keep hold of this one, use it at night," he fanned himself with Rosie's picture, laughing and winking at the guys.

"I swear to god i'll-"

"You'll what pipsqueak?" He asked, getting real close to Steve's face and growling "You'll jump on top of another grenade? Won't do much when I'm fucking your girl-"

Steve hurled himself at Hodge, and then woke up in the med bay. Erskine was by his bedside with a bottle of liquor, and laughing at him.

"What- where's my- where's the pictures of Rosie?" He asked, his eyes darting around. He had a fair idea of what happened to him after he hurled the first punch, but he wanted those pictures and letters back now. He wasn't about to let them leer and go through Rosie's words like that. Those letters were for him.

"Easy Steve," The good doctor said, putting his hand out and helping him sit up. He produced his journal, the letters and Rosie's picture on top to him, and Steve sighed a breath of relief.

"Thank you,"

"That's a pretty girl there," He said, gesturing at Rosie with a small smile.

"Yeah," Steve said defensively, before deflating and just smiling wanly at her. "Prettiest girl in New York City,"

"Is she your girlfriend? From home?"

"I uh, we've been on a date or two. I haven't asked her to go steady yet, and she's not from back home, she's from England, like Agent Carter!" He said excitedly, thinking of the effortlessly talented agent, who shared an accent with his Rosie.

"I see," Erskine said, with all the cadance and understanding of an adult watching a child talk about their favorite teddy bear or latest crush. He looked at Steve and saw his innocent love. And (He would never admit it but he did pry into Rosie's many letters a little before he woke up, strictly for research purposes to make sure Steve really was the right man) he could see that she was just as innocent and kind as he was.

They talked for an hour or so about what would happen the next day, and Steve went to sleep and dreamed of Rosie.

Rosie, who a few months later, would sit in her apartment, packing her bags telepathically and trying to simultaneously talk herself into, and out of, what she was about to do. She had been getting letters from Steve for a while now, apparently he was busy, and would soon be touring the front lines. Doing what she was unsure of, but the phrase 'front lines' did not sit well with her at all.

"You CAN'T just show the military your telekinesis," She said, pacing back and forth, two dresses floated up to her and she paused for a second, nodding at the right one which was folded and placed neatly into her case while the left hung itself back in her closet. "They could experiment on you! No, not could, they WOULD!"

"But Steve is out there all alone, he'd be in the midst of the fighting, getting shot at," She whined, her hair twisting itself up into a neat bun, then undoing itself as she looked in the mirror and frowned. "You could save him. If worse came to worst you could always time jump out."

"And then they'd have a record of me. I highly doubt the government would forget in 70 years." She reasoned, chewing her lip. "I can't let him go alone. I can't do it,"

There was a knock at her door. And she snapped to attention, her case snapping closed, her hair neatening itself out, and everything in mid air going still. She looked at all of her things and then waved her hand, making them fall lax to the nearest surface.

"I'm sorry, I'm very busy. I can't-" Rosie started as she opened the door, and came face to face with a white shirt and dog tags, and the smell of leather.

She looked up, and saw a pair of angry eyebrows and soft kind eyes, blonde hair falling neatly over a handsome face. She gasped, her eyes going wide as she recognised suddenly that who was in front of her was Captain America, the one from the old comic books and ads, the one that she vaguely remembered died in the war.

She saw Steve, and she realised that he was already dead.

She slammed the door shut and almost wailed. It could be a publicity stunt. Captain America wasn't needed after the war, maybe he lived and the whole death thing was just a way of letting the actor leave his role? Maybe she could help, save him, and she wouldn't be changing a thing! But if she was wrong, and she went… She'd have front row tickets to his death.

"Rosie?" A tentative voice came from one side of the door, it sounded like Steve, but with lower notes, a bass he didn't use to have. "It's me? It's Stevie, I uh, I had a bit of a growth spurt,"

"A growth spurt?" Rosie said as she opened the door, her arms crossed as she raised an eyebrow. She may not know the ins and outs, but she knew from the vague legend that he was part of a government experiment, that's pretty much all she knew about the myth however.

"Uh, yeah," Steve rubbed the back of his head, and looked her in the eye. Which he now had to look down to do.

"Steve, if you need to lie for the government you're gonna have to do better then growth spurt. Is it- is it really you?" She asked, reaching a hand out but then pulling it back.

Steve caught her hand and bent down slightly, pressing it to his cheek.

"It's me Rosie,"