Chapter 4
New York City – SHIELD Offices 2009
"Hey Janet," Lucy said stopping at her coworker's desk, "What are we trying for dinner tonight?"
Janet looked away from the email she was writing to glance at Lucy. Lucy was leaning over her cubicle wall just inches away from knocking over her treasured Holographic Darth Vader funko pop figure.
"Haven't decided yet Lucy. Was thinking about Ethiopian or Polish," Janet said, "I'll send out an email as soon as I've decided. Lucy smiled, "both sound delicious Jan."
Walking back to her desk, Lucy couldn't help but be thankful for her coworkers. They'd really taken her under their wings and were doing their best to 'bring her up to speed'. The Cuisine Collective was just one of the initiatives they'd started to make Lucy feel at home and expose her to the delights of New York City. It was simple, each week one of the team members would choose a cuisine for the group to eat and make a reservation at a restaurant somewhere in the five boroughs. After work, the team would meet up and enjoy a meal together. It had apparently done wonders for the team's morale and communication.
There were also shopping trips, book club, and movie club. Lucy especially liked the shopping trips with Janet and Shelly, another analyst. They'd introduced her to the world of vintage-inspired fashion which was perfect. She could still dress like it was 1945 but make it just modern enough to not look like she was in a costume all the time.
Lucy caught a glimpse of herself in the black screen of her computer. Her hair was getting long again. The reddish-brown locks were brushing the tops of her shoulders. She could start putting it up as she had before the war. She was always partial to neatly braided buns, but her hair would need time to grow to the length needed for that. She'd have to think about and research hairstyles on YouTube to see what she could do in the interim. She also examined her makeup. She was still getting used to having so many options and products to use. The foundation was holding up better than the one Janet had told her to try. Her pale skin looked better than in the full coverage gloop she'd tried previously even if the smattering of freckles on her nose showed through. She liked the brown eyeliner she'd tried today. It seemed to set off her brownish hazel eyes better than the heavy black Shelly had tried one weekend.
Lucky shook her head, breaking herself out of her internal monologue, and logged into her workstation. How did she already have 10 emails? She'd only been gone a few minutes. Lucy glanced through the emails quickly sorting the items into folders, marking unimportant messages as read.
One email caught Lucy's attention.
IMPORTANT | DELETE and EMPTY TRASH AFTER READING
Her mouse hovered over the mail viewing panel while she debated if she should preview the message. The sender was listed as, definitely not suspicious.
"Why not, what's the worst it could be," Lucy told herself opening the email.
The body of the email was completely empty. A single file was attached to the document labeled HV1?. Lucy clicked on it and was surprised when the computer asked for her permission to open the Windows Media Player. Lucy tensed, she didn't want to think about what was about to play. The file started to play, and Lucy was hit with a cacophony of sound. She could make out some of the snippets in the mix, but she really hoped the file wasn't what she thought it was.
She saved the file to a small stick drive that she kept for items that Jason had said maybe clandestine, then removed all evidence that the file had ever been on her computer.
A small ding indicating a new email arrival startled Lucy.
Ethnic Dining Club Decision | Polish | Karczma | 8PM
Lucy let out a small breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and looked at the flash drive in her hand. It was going to be a long night.
Washington DC -1942
Lucy looked herself over before entering the Navy. Her skirt was straight, and her blouse nicely tucked into the waistband. "Time to crack some eggs," Lucy told herself.
It was her first day out of training and she was nervous. Today, she'd be assigned to a code group and start working on breaking codes. Her hands were sweaty as she entered, but whether it was the summer heat or her nerves was unclear.
There was a small piece of paper on the wall that listed all the women who had recently completed their training and their room assignments. Her name was near the top of the list: Bryne, Lucy: Room B12.
B-12 was in the next building over. Lucy quickly about-faced and walked to the next building. Room 12 should be in the back of the building somewhere.
Sure enough, B-12 was the back corner of the building and was as hot as the hinges on the gates of Hades. Lucy made a mental note to find a small fan like the ladies at her church back home used on Sundays sooner rather than later.
There were only two other women in the room. One looked to be in her mid-thirties or possibly forties in a drop waist yellow cotton dress and sandals. The other was a young woman, younger than Lucy, in a fashionable cornflower blue shirt dress with half-sleeves.
"Hello, I'm Lucy Bryne. I was assigned to this room," Lucy said to get the ladies' attention.
Both women looked up at Lucy quizzically.
"Did you request another codebreaker," the younger woman asked.
"I don't think so. But Commander Wenger might have decided we needed someone else without consulting me," the older woman answered.
"I'm sorry, maybe I read the assignment sheet wrong. This is B-12 right," Lucy said very confusedly.
"Yes, this is B-12, also known as the Trash Bin," the older woman answered, "I'm Katherine and this is Sally."
"It's very nice to meet you both. What do you mean the Trash Bin?" Lucy asked.
"Basically, any intercepted transmission that isn't readily identified by country or code type comes to us. My predecessor Margaret called us the Office for Dead Transmissions," the older woman said.
Lucy's eyebrows rose. How could a transmission not be readily identified? Certainly, it was obvious where something came from or was going.
"Well, where should I start then," Lucy asked looking around the room. There were plenty of tables in the room, and every inch was covered in paper. Katherine and Sally looked at each other and shrugged, acquiescing to having another person in their domain.
"How about the corner by the windows. We haven't looked over any of those transmissions yet. If you have questions or think you've figured out where something needs to go, let either of us know," Sally said pointing to the far corner of the room.
Lucy set her small bag down on an open chair and picked up the first scrap of paper. Pulling out a small pencil from her bag, she started a frequency count of the letters and numbers in the message.
July 15, 1942
Dear Steve,
I am so sorry it took so long for me to write back. I did get your letter just after the 4th, but I've been so busy at work. I completed my training period and got my assignment. Its hard work and sometimes tedious, but every breakthrough is so exhilarating.
Yes, I was serious in my last letter. I want to know everything about you: medical, fights, hopes, dreams, friends, deepest fears. Everything! I'll demonstrate for you. I love music, specifically classical and jazz. Swing is ok, but it has nothing on jazz. Like I said in my last letter, I can play the piano, but not well. My father used to love my plinking attempts at Mozart or Bach after a hard day's fishing. Dot and I are trying to find a piano we can afford that fits in our apartment. Dot plays too and was apparently the pride of her church in Lynchburg. What else…. I'm a Libra, I broke my arm as a child. I'm not sure about my fight list. I was quite the puncher in high school.
Is that enough about me for one letter?
I'm sorry to hear about your parents. I can't fathom losing my father, after all, we've been through together. At least you have Buck? He seems like a great friend. Dot says she's thinking about sending him a letter, think he'd mind?
So, you want to be a soldier? If it's something that is really important to you, I'll support you 100%. I get where Buck is coming from. My dad said the same thing when I enlisted with the WAVES. Regardless, it's your life and you get to do with it what you want. Isn't that what we're fighting for in the war? Herr Hitler is just a big bully who wants to tell the world what to think and it is not ok.
Thank you very much for the drawing. You'll be tickled to hear that the drawing is now the only decoration in Dot and my apartment. It has a place of pride above the small fireplace. That sketchy shrimp and its lobster pal bring some real joy to our days.
I need to end here, so I can get this to the mailbox in time for pick-up.
Looking forward to your next letter,
Lucy.
Lucy carefully blotted the excess ink from the page and folded the letter in thirds. Then, because she'd seen Dot do it a hundred times, she reached for her perfume bottle. The stopper came away with light pop and Lucy placed a single dab on the page. With a small prayer to whatever god was listening, Lucy shoved the letter into the already addressed envelope, sealed it, and ran for the mailbox.
July 30th, 1942
Dear Lucy,
It's my turn to apologize for tracking too long to write. I've had a bit of a cold and Bucky has been fretting over me like a mother hen. I'm on the mend now, just the occasional cough.
Did you do something different to the letter this time? Bucky said whatever you did made the whole apartment smell like flowers for a few days. I couldn't really smell anything.
A puncher huh? Guess we have that in common. I wouldn't have guessed that from our meeting at the dance hall. You seemed like the epitome of grace and poise. It must be all that sailor in you. I get into lots of fights, more than I probably should. I just can't standby when someone is in danger or someone is being a bully. I hate bullies, no matter who they are or where they're from. Bucky joked once that I've probably seen every alley in Brooklyn at this point.
I'd really like to hear you play sometime, both Buck and I have tin ears. Last year, we finally had enough saved to buy a second-hand record player. We only have a few records mostly swing and jazz too. Bucky really likes Glen Miller, says he's perfect for dancing. I'm partial to Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald if I had to choose. I'm not sure if I've ever heard Mozart or Bach. You'll have to introduce me.
*ink splotch*
You've hung my sketch on your wall? I'm flattered. I've included another drawing with this letter. Let me know if you can figure out what the picture is supposed to be.
I guess I should probably tell you more about me now. I've lived in Brooklyn my whole life. There is no better borough in all of New York. I wasn't sure what a Libra was, but I looked it up. Rebecca, Bucky's sister, said it was a horoscope thing in the newspaper. Based on that your birthday is sometime in October? According to Rebecca, I'm a Sagittarius whatever that means.
Hm… I like comic books, but you probably figured that out in my last letter. Since I mentioned having drawn for one. I'm pretty sure Bucky likes comics too. I've caught him sneaking looks at the few I have in the apartment. It's hard to decide if I have a favorite comic. Maybe Detective Comics? I prefer Batman to Superman. Batman is just a normal person, albeit rich.
I hope you and Dot are doing okay by yourselves in DC. Bucky has been waiting for Dot to write him. He didn't even want to go out last week. Hopefully, she'll write soon.
Looking forward to your next letter.
Steve
Steve carefully folded his letter and the charcoal sketch he'd picked out. He hoped she'd figure out the sketch. Bucky had initially been shocked at the quality of the drawing. He was used to Steve's comic book style of drawing.
"Have you sent the letter yet," Bucky called from the sofa.
"I'm sealing the letter now," Steve called back.
"You know that broad is going to freak out about the drawing Steve. It looks like one of those drawing in the museums," Bucky said.
"We don't know if she'll even know that the drawing is," Steve said pessimistically.
"Steve, if she doesn't figure it out, then she isn't the dame for you," Bucky said. Steve sighed, grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door.
"I'm going to work Buck. See you for dinner, and please don't burn the cabbage this time."
Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled quietly to himself as the door slammed closed behind Steve.
Lucy paced by the postal boxes at Fillmore Gardens. Steve's letter was late, or at least later than she'd thought it would be. She wasn't sure why she was so anxious about receiving his next letter. They were just penpals, and letters would come when they came. The mailman never let anyone get their mail before he was finished, and he was taking his sweet time today filing each apartment's box with various letters.
"I'm all done Ms. Lucy," the mailman said stepping out of the small mail area.
"Thank you, Martin," Lucy said stepping past him, her mailbox key already out and ready.
The box was fairly empty today. It looked like only two or three pieces of mail. Lucy reached in a grabbed the envelopes. She tried not to look at the fronts. If one of the letters was Steve's she'd stop right, there and read it. Honestly, it was too hot to do that. August in DC was nearly intolerable. The city sweltered and the humidity was worse than anything Lucy could remember growing up. Lucy locked the box back up and walked as quickly as she could without running back to the apartment. Both she and Dot were off and they'd been planning to go piano hunting later.
"Did that letter you were waiting for arrive," Dot asked from the kitchen as the front door closed behind Lucy. Ignoring Dot, Lucy began to look at the letters. First was the electric bill. Lucy set that one on the counter for Dot to look at. The second, a letter to Dot from her mother. She handed that one over without a word.
Lucy's heart lept at the final piece of mail. It was a letter from Steve. "Finally," she breathed. Lucy opened the letter carefully. There were several sheets of paper in the fold. Either Steve had written her a very long letter, or he'd included another drawing. She hoped for another drawing.
The two women stood in complete silence as they read their respective letters. Lucy savored each word on the page. Steve had written to her and it seemed like he was starting to open up. As she finished the letter, Lucy shifted the pages in her hands to look at the picture. It was a charcoal sketch, a little smudged from being included in the letter.
Lucy placed the main letter on the kitchen counter and stared at the drawing. Was that the night they met? She could make out have looked like a dance floor and a band in the background. The focus of the drawing, however, was a person from behind. Lucy assumed it was her, as the figure had a solitary victory roll on the left side of the head and soft curls tumbling to their shoulders. The profile of a martini glass could be seen with a darkly colored cherry at the rim. The figure seemed to be surveying the dance floor and was alone at a small round table. The drawing was beautiful. Lucy could not believe Steve had drawn this and sent it to her. It belonged in a gallery where everyone could view his work.
"Luc," Dot said coming to her side, "you alright? Is Steve…." She stared at the sketch in Lucy's hand.
"That's incredible," she said.
"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," Lucy said quietly.
This picture would be taking the place of pride above the fireplace. She and Dot would find somewhere else to hang the comical shrimp.
Author Note: Finally done with Chapter 4. Hopefully, Chapter 5 won't take as long. There will be a time jump in both timelines to get the story moving a little bit faster.
