Hey Folks!
Took a little longer to write this chapter, so sorry about that. I hope the wait didn't torment you.
Since the last chapter was posted on Feb 26th, this story has had over 600 more views! WOW! That is incredible and inspiring, so please do keep showing the love for Cora & Steve.
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Here we go...
CHAPTER 5 - Broken.
Steve stood waiting in his newly pressed Army uniform, his equipment and rucksack hanging on his back and his side cap squeezed nervously in his hands. Around him were the other new recruits, kissing and holding their loved ones in a farewell as the grumbling trucks that would be taking them to the base idled behind them.
Cora had promised to be there to see him off, but there was only ten minutes left before he wouldn't see her again for probably a fair few months. Still, he waited diligently, his eyes on the horizon that led to the entrance gate of the main recruitment office. It was here that all new recruits were shipped off to their prospective bases.
After Steve had walked Cora home last night and they had shared another nervously sweet kiss outside her apartment door, it was all he could think about. Again. So much so that he had almost missed acknowledging the morning roll call because he was so immersed in the memory. It had quite possibly been the greatest night of his life: His lifelong dream to serve had finally come true, he had finally danced with the right partner he had been waiting for, and he had finally kissed the woman of his dreams. More importantly, she had kissed him back, and that was astounding to him. Yes, it had definitely been the greatest night.
"Alright, boys, say your goodbyes and load up." Shouted an army officer.
Steve looked at him in horror, then looked back to the empty horizon. Where was she? Was she alright? Could she... maybe... regret last night and wouldn't be coming to see him off?
As the weeping women of the soldiers began to say their goodbyes and be escorted from the Army property by sympathetic female staff, Steve's heart began to sink with doubt. Cora wasn't coming. Had he done something wrong? Had she changed her mind about supporting him as a soldier? Would he see her again?
"Rogers!" Called the officer, making him jump and turn towards him. "In the truck, private."
Steve immediately walked up to him, looking up into his firm face that stood at least half a foot taller than him, "Can I please just get a few more minutes, Sir?"
A strong hand clamped onto Steve's shoulder, "I'm sorry, son, but whoever you're waiting for, it doesn't look like they're coming. Take it like a man."
As the officer walked away and the last of the recruits were climbing into the trucks with Steve mournfully at the back of the line, the panicked calls of a woman and loud honking caught his ears to look to the horizon. He could barely believe his eyes as an army Jeep was speeding across the tarmac towards them, a woman's waving arm flailing in the air to get his attention as she stood up in the vehicle. As the Jeep got close enough, Steve's grin grew wide as he immediately left the line to go to her.
"Wait! Don't go yet!" She yelled as the Jeep came to a stop and she quickly slipped out of the side to hurry towards the oncoming recruit, wrapping her arms around him the moment he got in range and dropping her purse in the process, "I'm so sorry!"
Steve didn't care that she was late, just that she had made it and that it seemed like she didn't regret anything after all. That was what mattered to him, and the grin on his face showed that.
"I'm so sorry!" She said again, partially out of breath, "The traffic was ridiculous and then the jackass on the gate wouldn't let the taxi through. I was lucky that the officer driving the Jeep was there to bring me in otherwise I would have missed you entirely. I'm so sorry I'm late."
"It's okay, Cora." He chuckled, pushing her back to look at her flustered face. "I have to admit it's funny when you swear like that."
"Well he really was." She laughed, slowly getting her breath back as she took a step back to look at him. "The uniform suits you."
"Thanks." He replied, "Though it was a struggle to find anything remotely my size."
Cora smiled, determined to keep her tears locked away this time as she ran her fingers across his pressed collar, "Must have been fate then."
There was a comfortable silence for a moment as they just looked at each other, both trying to memorise their faces and expressions until the next time when they could hopefully be reunited.
"I wasn't sure if you were going to come." Steve admitted, a little ashamed for his thoughts.
"Why?" She asked with concern.
"I don't know, I thought maybe you... maybe you had changed your mind. That last night..."
"Was wonderful." Cora interrupted with a smile, locking away the true extent of her feelings when he had been passed to serve. "And I don't regret any of it."
"I can see that now." He smirked, "Though I do regret one thing from last night."
"What's that?"
"Stepping on your foot."
Cora giggled and held his free hand, "I forgive you considering it was your first dance."
"It wasn't the dance, it was the kiss. Kind of scrambled all traces of coordination I had."
"Well you had better remember that for next time then."
"Rogers!" Shouted the officer again. They both looked at him as he stood with his hands on his hips and a cigar in the corner of his mouth, "You got thirty seconds, son, before your ass is sat in that truck, understood?"
"Yes, Sir!" Steve answered, looking back at his girl and secretly thrilling at the fact that she now was. She was his girl.
"Yeah, Rogers, kiss your mama good bye!" Yelled one of the soldiers from the truck.
Then some more troops started in.
"What's the matter, boy, did you forget your underpants?"
"How 'bout you write to me instead, sweetheart, I'll make sure you get something worth waiting for!"
"Hey!" Shouted Steve, spinning around to face the soldiers who were hanging out the sides of the truck, "Watch your mouth!"
"Oooooh, little boy is playing tough around the dame." Replied the smug soldier who looked like your typical half wit trooper, "What's wrong? Scared she'll find a real man whilst you're away?!"
At that last part, Cora immediately grabbed Steve's lapels and brought him in for a deep passionate kiss that silenced the troop's snide remarks, except for a few impressed wolf whistles from others. Steve was entirely taken by surprise, so much so that he dropped his cap he was so lost in stars.
Cora slowly parted from him, her lips sticking to his slightly in that way he enjoyed before he opened his eyes and blinked away the fuzziness of his brain.
"Erm...Wow." It was all he could say.
"Well it certainly got the point across." She smiled cheekily, amused at the smudge of colour over his lips now.
"What point was that?"
"That I already have a soldier worth waiting for."
Steve smiled again at her sweetness and tenderness, and even her mischievous nature that crept up from time to time. His smile softened with fondness at the glistening of her eyes and the warmth of cheeks, and at the smooth waves of her autumn hair and the soft fresh scent of her perfume. He was going to miss her terribly.
"Times up Rogers!" Called the officer.
Cora quickly straightened his lapels and his tie, "I have something for you."
She crouched down to pick up her discarded purse but Steve beat her to it and picked up his cap on the way. Handing the leather purse to her, she dug in it and retrieved a single folded strip of white thick paper. Closing the purse again, she carelessly dropped it on the floor and quickly unfolded the paper to show him. Steve immediately grinned as he saw the photo booth strip from Coney Island, their laughing, smiling and playing faces caught forever on the glossy paper.
Cora carefully tore it in half, making sure to stay between the two sides of the pictures, and handed one half to Steve. He accepted it gratefully, grinning from ear to ear before she embraced him tightly once again.
"Rogers! Now!" The stern officer ordered.
She released him, pressed her lips to his briefly and stepped back to avoid the temptation to not let him go.
Steve quickly put on his side cap and reassuringly smiled at her, "I'll write you as soon as I can get a pen."
"I know." She replied, ringing her fingers with restraint.
Steve slowly began to walk backwards, keeping his eyes on her until he had to turn and jog to the back of the truck. One of the soldiers grabbed his hand and thankfully helped him in to sit on the end of the bench.
Even as the tailgate was secured, he kept looking at her and she did the same with him, unable to break, not wanting to waste a second at looking elsewhere.
As the truck began to pull away, Cora walked after it, not wanting to let him go yet. The driver of the Jeep eventually came running after her to stop her from going any further into the Army property. Steve stared as he moved further and further away from her, watching helplessly as she finally fell apart and began to cry into her hand.
Cora quickly clicked open the door lock to her apartment with the key as she balanced a paper bag of groceries on her hip and her art satchel over her shoulder. Squeezing into the short hallway, she swung the door closed behind her and hurried into the lounge, not waiting for the safe click of the lock before she dropped the satchel on the couch and rushed to the kitchen counter, emptying the contents of the grocery bag to hunt down one particular item: The letter.
Finally, she found the small white envelope fallen to the bottom of the brown paper bag, having slipped down when she had retrieved it from her mail box in the lobby and in her excitement dropped it in there to hurry upstairs to the apartment to read it. The return address on the back of the envelope was all she needed to know to cause her heart to thunder blood into her veins.
Cora quickly opened up the letter with a wide excited smile, pulling off her wool coat at the same time as she moved to the couch, all the while beginning to read the wonderful script on the page. Sinking into the soft cushions, she fell into the fondness of his words:
My dearest Cora,
I apologise for not writing to you sooner. Though I tried as best as I could, the training here has been kind of demanding, leaving me no time to get my letter sent out to you. Although, it has meant many evenings of me adding to it, so it's now become more of an essay or a multi-letter.
Never-the-less, I hope that my scrawled pages find you well and happy. It's only been a week, but it already feels like a month away from you. I've gotten so attached to spending my time around you that without it my days seem to be missing something.
How are you? How is the painting coming along? (I wish I could be there when you finish it.) Tell me everything of your days, no matter how boring you may think it is.
Training has been hard, but no more than I expected really. The other troops are... well, like other troops, but there is a nice woman here at least. Though I wouldn't want to get on her mean side after I saw her punch one of the recruits square in the face for being a jerk. She's English too, actually, and an agent for the division so she'll be record the progress of all those who have been put forward for the special project that I was specifically enlisted for, though they still haven't actually told me what it involves yet. So far it's just been drills, fitness, assault courses... All of which I seem to be awful at but I refuse to give up on regardless. I've waited my whole life for this chance. I know I can be better. I will be better.
Dr Erskine who gave me this opportunity is here too, watching over the candidates. I like him, he has a good heart and a warm hope for the country's future. He says that this project will be a turning point for the war, and strangely enough he seems increasingly convinced that I'm a prime option to be chosen. Even though I may have made a fool of myself by jumping onto a dud grenade. Actually, thinking about it, I probably shouldn't have told you that part, but I can't exactly cross it out now without raising your suspicions. I'm sorry, Cora, please don't worry. It was a spur of the moment thing. I promised you I would come back, and I always keep my word.
I will admit that it still confuses me how I managed to deserve such an amazing woman like you. You're the kind of dame that I thought I could only dream about but never be good enough for. Yet somehow you manage to see past all my shortfalls and kiss me till I see the stars. Oh and I still think about those stars often, by the way, hoping that I will get to see them again soon. (That was very mischievous of you with the mouthy troops, by the way!)
Every night I look at our pictures from Coney Island and the handkerchief you gave me the first time we met, and no matter how tough the day has been here, they always manage to patch me back up. I keep both hidden inside my helmet during the day as a reminder that you're with me and supporting me. It's almost like you're on the side lines urging me to keep going, in a way.
Dr Erskine will be choosing the candidate tomorrow. If it's me, I will try to write and explain everything I can as soon as possible. If he doesn't, then I guess I may be coming back for that waddle I promised you, I don't know. I guess we will just have to wait and see.
Please take care, Cora. Stay healthy and happy..
I miss you, and though I'm not authorised to tell you where exactly I am, know that I'm never far away from you.
Yours always,
Steve.
Cora smiled tenderly, her eyes misting with joy and love as she placed a soft kiss on the letter, knowing that he had been holding it only a short time ago. Then she gazed lovingly at the small beautifully sketched drawing that he had included in the envelope, showing them both together, embraced in a dance with their foreheads resting against one anothers. It was a bitter-sweet memory of their last evening, but one she cherished and wouldn't trade for the world.
Taking a deep breath to be released in a sigh, she softly ran her thumb over the image of Steve.
The scientist, Dr Erskine, would have chosen the candidate for this special project by now. Was it Steve? And if it was, what could it possibly be? Something that would be a turning point for the war, he had said. Whatever it was, it unnerved her and filled her with a protective instinct that was hard to control and keep down. He was so sweet and slight and unique, she didn't want to lose him so he could be another bone-head soldier or expendable.
Taking another deep calming breath, knowing that Steve would never be that way and that he had given his word to come back, she silently swore a little promise of her own: If anyone risked his life needlessly or broke him in any way, there would truly be hell to pay.
Standing from the couch, she quickly walked over to the sideboard, opened one of it's draws and removed the writing paper and a fountain pen. After gently dropping the needle on her gramophone to wave the air with soft stylish jazz, she sat down again to write.
Steve sat at his dressing room table, the snug fit of his patriotic costume clinging uncomfortably to his new physique as he eagerly tore open the envelope that had just been handed to him. He only had ten minutes until the next show but he couldn't wait. The mail service had been inconveniently slow lately, but he knew without a doubt who the letter was from and he needed her words more than ever.
Since the experiment that had altered him irrevocably, and since Dr Erkine's death, he had not been able to confide in anyone. He was still trying to comprehend everything that had happened, still trying to tediously hold onto the crazy ride that had suddenly catapulted him from a scrawny private in the army to a super soldier celebrity. He just wanted to serve his country, but this wasn't what he had in mind. All the songs and glamour and autographs to promote defence bonds just wasn't him, but there was no-one who he could talk to about his concerns. He wouldn't even be able to tell Cora what had really happened since it was deemed classified.
At least her letter would give him a sense of normality, a stable unwavering hand to reach for until they could be reunited and somehow figure out what the future would be now.
Leaning on the dressing table in the glow of the mirror lights, he unfolded the smooth paper and smiled brilliantly as he saw her beautiful script dancing across the page. He had never seen her handwriting before, but it was certainly as elegant as he had expected, and the paper itself seemed to have a cloud of her perfume which he breathed in with a sigh of relief. It was like fresh air to him after weeks away from it. This was the first letter he had received from her since their parting, and he was going to savour this small connection they still loyally hung onto over the distance.
Dearest Steve,
I can hardly begin to convey my relief at finally hearing from you. I was getting so worried, and yes I know what you would say. You would tell me that there is no need to be concerned, no need to fret over you. However it's easier said than done, so you will just have to cope with the fact that I will remain a nervous ninny until you return.
As for my life back here in New York... I'm doing fine considering our situation, and resolved to keep myself occupied as I continue with my studies. The Heroism painting was finished yesterday, and it was well received by Mr Clark. I have actually started a new painting at home now. I wish you could see it, but hopefully you won't have to wait too much longer.
Not much else has been happening to tell you the truth but if you insist on hearing about all the trivialities then hear it goes: I wake up, go to class, run errands and then sleep, mostly doing all of it as I wonder what you could be doing at that moment. I haven't been out in the evening since you left, though I will admit that I have had invites from a few men which I politely declined. And I hope you don't mind, but I had to tell one eager gentleman that I was married. It worked to dissuade him.
I'm sorry to hear that the training is proving difficult for you. I have heard that the military training is rather vigorous, but surely we would want it no other way. There isn't a soldier alive that hasn't benefited from the tough love, I'm sure. It will keep you kicking, so hang on in there. I have complete faith in you. Just do your best, then push yourself a little more so you are certain you gave everything your best shot. That way you'll regret nothing and you can hold your head high.
I'm glad there is a nice English agent there to keep your spirits up. And also that she is rightfully representing our country back home by not mewling to any soldier's rudeness. Just try not to fall for her English charms, trooper.
Right, I'm sorry but I can't stall it anymore... You threw yourself onto a grenade? If you could see my expression right now, you would feel the full force of my scolding. Even if it was a dud, you didn't know that at the time, and you still willingly handed over your life so easily! You promised that you would come back, and I'm hoping for you to be in one piece so please don't do anything so reckless again. I worry about you enough without having to add more grievous notions to my over-imaginative mind.
This letter would have taken a fair few days to arrive I believe, the post is going slowly recently, but I think Dr Erskine must have made his decision by the time it reaches you. Well... what happened? Did they choose you? If so, what have they signed you up for? What does it involve?
I apologise for all the questions, I'm just not used to all the secrecy. Please let me know everything that is going on as soon as you're able. I know you may not be able to divulge every detail, but I would appreciate a little insight into what they're getting you into.
Now as for the absurd idea that you don't deserve me... I have never met a man more deserving of happiness, and if I can somehow play an integral part in yours then I am truly the luckiest woman alive. Do not sell yourself so short, my darling. You clearly don't see within you what I do. I thank all the stars in the heavens for bringing you to me.
Please write to me soon, or come back to me if you can. I miss you terribly.
Yours Always,
Cora
P.S. Thank you for the drawing, I adore it. It now has pride of place at my bedside.
Steve sighed with tenderness, a sparkling grin spreading across his face as he looked at the red lipstick kiss that she had placed at the bottom of the page, her mischief and sweetness warming him to the core. She may not be physically with him but he could almost feel her embrace around him, giving him courage and faith that all of this would work out for the best.
"You're on in five minutes, Cap." Called a stage hand around the door of the small dressing room.
"Thanks." He replied, watching until the stage hand disappeared. Then he carefully refolded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope before placing a quick kiss on the paper and tucking it inside his costume to be close to him for a little longer, next to the handkerchief and photos.
He would work on his reply straight after the show, though he wasn't entirely sure how or even if he should tell her about his miraculous transformation. It might be difficult to convince her, and to be honest he didn't want her to think of him as a dancing monkey if she saw the comics or posters or newspapers, knowing that the uniformed celebrity they were about was actually him. He wanted to make sure that she knew he was still himself... Just a little taller now.
Perhaps he would wait and surprise her in person to take her dancing. Steve smiled at the enjoyable thought that she wouldn't have to take her shoes off again. Though he couldn't promise he wouldn't step on her toes. A super soldier he may be now, but Fred Astaire he was not.
Cora sipped at the hot tea she carried from the kitchen, padding her bare feet across the wooden floor of her apartment to sit on the leather couch and curl her legs up to be comfortable.
The light in the lounge was dim, only a few lamps switched on to create a soothing atmosphere as the gramophone played a gentle big band instrumental. The evening was quiet, the curtains still open to let in a small amount of moonlight.
She smiled fondly as she reached for the small end table beside her and picked up the opened envelope to read the latest letter again. This was the third time she had read it since it had arrived that morning, but she couldn't deny that it seemed to have a calming effect when she did, as if soothing her loneliness. It had been over a little over three weeks since he had left, and this was only the second letter she had received. Though he had promised to write to her more often, she could only assume that the postal service and his training were delaying his correspondences. She could forgive him, of course, as long as he was alright.
Unfolding the pages, she nestled herself into the couch and rested her tea on the thigh of her fitted skirt as she began to read again:
My dear Cora,
I'm sorry to worry you so much with my lack of letters. The postal system seems to be getting slower, and as I try to wait for your replies before I send you another, our contact is starting to get more and more stretched out. I think maybe I will start to write to you more regardless, to help keep you from being a 'nervous ninny' as you put it. I do love your English quirks. I could almost hear you say that when I read the letter you sent to me.
Oh and no, I won't fall for Agent Carter's English charms. She's a great dame, head strong and kind, and reminds me a lot of you. I think that fact alone shows who rules my heart, so there's no need to worry.
So what did Mr Clark say about the painting? Did you get a grade for it yet or was it just practice? And what's this new one that you've started?
As for keeping yourself occupied whilst always wondering what the other could be doing, I know exactly what you mean. There's barely a waking hour that you don't cross my mind, and many a dream that you visit as well. It's hard being away from you, but I just have to keep reminding myself to push forward and keep going, and that I will find my way back to you somehow, no matter what I have to do.
You're right, Dr Erskine did choose a candidate ,and yes... He chose me. I can't go into detail about what the programme was but it is sort of complete now, I guess. Unfortunately, the good doctor had an accident during the process and didn't make it. There was nothing we could do, it happened so fast. Before he died he made me promise to remain a good man, and he is now another reminder of why I serve, and why I have to carry on doing this. He believed in me, just as you do, and I won't betray that faith by walking away. I won't let either of you down. However, I will admit that their idea of me serving my country isn't exactly what I imagined, but I won't give up if it means I can make a difference in the war effort.
It's difficult to try and explain without telling you classified information, but I should tell you that I am a little different now. Please don't take that wrongly though, I'm fine and I'm still the same nervous clutz that stepped on your toes, but now I'm... different. I guess it would just be easier if I waited till I see you, then you'll understand more easily.
I'm hoping to get some leave to come back to New York really soon. It won't be much, just a couple of days probably, but it's still time to spend with you if, of course, you would want to spend it with me? I could take you waddling again, and you won't have to take off your shoes this time.
When I read the part in your letter about you being the luckiest woman alive and how you thank the heavens, I will admit that it thrilled me because you had just put everything I feel for you into words. I could never have imagined finding happiness like the kind I have when you're holding onto my arm as we walk, or when you smile at me, and especially when we share a kiss. Forgive me if this sounds too forward or bold after only knowing you for a little over a month, but I truly feel as if you are the only dame for me now.
I will come back for you, no matter how long it takes and no matter how far I have to travel to be beside you. So keep smiling; You light up the world when you do.
Stay safe, and I'll see you soon.
Yours now and always,
Steve.
P.S. Sorry about the grenade incident, it was sort of a test. Won't happen again.
Cora gently placed the letter on her knee, a smile playing on her quivering lips as she wiped a tear from her cheek. She was unsure whether she was blissfully happy from his romantic confessions, or if she was heart wrenchingly lonely from his absence. No matter how many times she read the letter, it seemed she would always have the same reaction.
However, even though she was overwhelmed at his affections, she still couldn't hold down her curiosity and concerns about what had happened during the programme that he had been chosen for: What sort of accident could have killed Dr Erskine? Why was it so secretive? What had they done to him to make him different? What was he doing to serve his country that seemed to make him so unhappy?
There were so many questions that she knew he couldn't answer. Of course, that wouldn't stop her from asking when he finally came back. She took comfort in that, knowing that she just had to be patient for a little while longer and she would be holding him once again.
Placing the letter tenderly on the side table, she uncurled her legs from the couch to lean forward on her knees, thinking fondly of her soldier as she sipped her tea and looked over at the easel that stood in the corner of the lounge by the window. She smiled as she looked at the new canvas that stood proudly on it, the outline of a certain handsome trooper artistically composed across the white space as he stood in his military uniform with his hands in his pockets and that sweet crooked smirk on his lips. She was looking forward to seeing him again.
The splintering crash of her front door shot her to her feet, dropping her tea to smash on the floor as she hastily scrambled over the coffee table and backed up against the far wall in fearful shock. A mass of soldiers in black surged into the apartment and advanced on her with electrified weapons, knocking over and breaking some smaller pieces of furniture carelessly to block her in with a trained tactical formation.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands shaking with terrified confusion as she desperately tried to control the urge that was beginning to bubble to the surface from her fear. They were shouting at her, repeatedly demanding that she get on her knees. And when one of them knocked over the easel and obliviously stepped on the portrait of Steve, her restraint snapped.
It had been more than two weeks since Steve had heard anything from Cora. He knew that the postal service was slow and that she was in the middle of her university studies, but something didn't feel right to him. It felt like it had been too long for a reply from her, and his intuition told him that something was wrong.
So, yesterday evening after his latest patriotic show, he told Senator Bran that he would be returning to New York for a few days on personal business. Steve didn't give him a chance to argue it.
Now as he stood in front of Cora's apartment door in his crisp army uniform, he couldn't help but feel nervous. His stomach was tight and somersaulting, his back muscles were tensed and his mouth was dry. He didn't know how she was going to react to his new look, whether it would be welcome or whether she would realise straight away that it was him and that he was now Captain America from all the media. Could she think the worst of him due to all the stardom?
The logical side of him knew that she wouldn't be so quick to judge. Sure he was now six foot two, two hundred and forty pounds of muscle, and an American star, but he was still Steve Rogers first. His heart knew that she would see him as Steve Rogers first and foremost, not as a uniform, but he still couldn't help his nerves.
With a deep breath, he knocked on the apartment door and listened for activity. He knew that she wouldn't be at class today, so she would probably be home, running errands or with a friend perhaps. However, as she had just started a new painting at her apartment, he had a feeling that she would be here rather than anywhere else.
As he waited though, Steve heard no response to the taps on her door. He was about to knock again when he glanced down and saw the door knob: It was shining brass, and brand new, along with the door jam. Suspicion began to creep into his stomach and he began to fear the worst.
Carefully grasping the door knob, he gave it a firm twist and heard the locking mechanism snap. Fortunately, his two hundred and forty pounds worth of muscle was not for show.
Slowly, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him before cautiously stepping towards the lounge. It was silent and still, gloomy with the curtains closed which was strange in itself as it was midday. Why were the drapes still shut? And more importantly, where was Cora's scent? The last time he had been here the rooms flowed with the soft alluring perfume she wore, but now he could barely smell it as a few dust motes swirled in the small crack of light that filtered between the curtains. To him, the room felt like it wasn't lived in anymore and that thought clenched at his fear. If she wasn't here, then where did she go? And why leave without a word?
Moving to the windows, he wrenched back the curtains to reveal the familiar apartment. It was just as he remembered it, every piece of furniture where it should be, except there was a very thin layer of dust on everything now.
Walking to the open bedroom, he found the bed was not slept in, the Coney Island bear still propped up on the pillows and the drawing he had sent to her was in a frame on the side table as she had said. He checked the wardrobe and found most of her clothes still hanging, with only a few empty hangers on the rail. After a quick search of the room, he couldn't find a suitcase. Had she left her apartment? And if so, where had she gone? It looked as though she had in a left hurry. Why?
Moving back to the lounge, he searched everywhere for more clues but didn't really find anything else to help him. Everything was as it should be except for the missing clothes and case, and the obvious signs of neglect to her home.
Looking to the easel where her new painting should have been, he saw her familiar wooden box of brushes and paints, but there was no canvas. Why would she take the painting and no equipment? This made no sense to him, and it was making him increasingly more worried.
"Brian!" Steve called over the bar at O'Reilly's. It was quiet as it was still early afternoon, only a few customers enjoying a peaceful drink at the various tables.
Steve had already tried looking for Cora at the University. At first the old pleasant lady on the front desk didn't recognise him now that he had bulked up, but eventually he convinced her that it was indeed him that had called on Cora with a bunch of flowers that day.
When he enquired as to her whereabouts, she had informed him that Cora hadn't been to class in quite a while and they had assumed she had gone home, as it wasn't uncommon for foreign students to suddenly do so.
Now he was trying the only place left to him: O'Reilly's. He didn't know any of her other friends or how to get in touch with her family in case she had rushed home for some reason. He just hoped that wherever she was that she was safe.
"Brian!" He called again, grabbing the attention of the heavy barman.
Steve watched as the owner evaluated him for a moment before wandering over to the end of the bar, obviously trying to figure out how he knew him.
"Can I help you, Sir?" Asked Brian, leaning on the wooden hard top.
"Have you seen Cora?"
"Who wants to know?" He retorted, looking at Steve's army uniform and becoming defensive for his friend's welfare. It wouldn't be the first time she had trouble with soldiers.
"It's Steve." He replied, "I came in here with Cora a while ago? We sat over in the corner. I was much shorter and skinny."
"You're that Steve?"
"Yeah."
"You've surely filled out." Brian said with surprise.
"Have you seen Cora?" Steve urged.
"No, she hasn't been in here since she was with you." He answered, his thick brow pulling down with worry. "I assumed you were both together somewhere. She okay?"
"I don't know, I can't find her anywhere. I lost touch with her about two weeks ago and the University hasn't seen her for a while either."
"You tried her apartment?"
"I did and it looks like she hasn't been there for at least a few weeks. Some of her clothes are gone along with her suitcase and a new painting she was working on."
"Maybe she went to see a friend out of town?" He suggested, stretching for an explanation that wasn't filled with bad news.
"Possibly but it's unlike her to not write to me." Steve said, getting more and more anxious. "And if it was an emergency why did she take the painting?"
"I have no idea where she could be then." He replied, equally worried. "Did you call the cops?"
"No, but I can do better than that." He answered, turning to leave in a hurry, "I just wanted to check with you first."
"Hey hey!" Brian called, making him stop in his tracks, "Let me know she's alright when you find her, okay?"
"I will." Steve replied, anxious to get going. "And be sure to tell her that I'm looking for her if she turns up here."
"You got it."
Completely bypassing the objections of the secretary, Steve marched in Senator Bran's lush office, startling the smartly dressed man who immediately sat up straight at his desk as he placed his pen down.
"Ah, Captain. What an unexpected surprise." He greeted pleasantly.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, Sir," Steve said but without any remorse as he stood before the dark wooden desk. "But I need to ask an urgent favour of you."
"Urgent?" Bran reiterated with concern as he stood up from his desk to talk to the super soldier eye to eye. Honestly, he didn't really like the manner of his entrance, nor his sudden departure to New York, but the Captain brought in a lot of funding so he was willing to let some things slide. "By all means, what can I do for you, Son?"
"You have connections, people who can find others quickly. I need your help to find a woman called Cora Elizabeth Pritcher. She's missing."
"I see. And this was the reason you went to New York?"
"It was, Sir. We keep in touch frequently, but I haven't heard from her in two weeks and no-one has seen her. Her apartment doesn't looked lived in for some time either."
"And she couldn't have just simply gone out of town to visit friends?" Bran offered calmly.
Steve shook his head against the suggestion, beginning to get exasperated by the same suggestion from so many people as if he wouldn't have thought of it already, "I know Cora and she wouldn't have gone somewhere without letting me know that it might affect her letters. Also the door knob to her apartment has been replaced and there are signs of a forced entry."
"Alright." He said with a reassuring smile and a pat on Steve's shoulder, before he returned to his seat behind the desk to pick up his pen again, "I will get my people on it right away. You said her name was Cora Elizabeth... ?"
"Pritcher." Steve answered, watching as the senator wrote down all the details on his fine paper, "She's originally from England but moved here a year ago to study art at the New York University. Like I said, Senator, she wouldn't have left so suddenly without letting me know what was happening."
"And considering how close you two seem, am I right to assume that she's your girl, Captain?" He asked, stopping writing to give Steve a small smirk that grated on his nerves. It wasn't any of his business and it wasn't relevant for finding her, but he didn't want to cause offence by stating so. It might hinder how quickly she's found if he upset the Senator.
"Yes, Sir." He answered instead with a slightly tight jaw.
"Okay, Son, try not to worry. We'll find out where she's gone. You just carry on as normal and I promise you that I will have news in a few days."
"Thank you." Steve replied.
The idea of doing the garish shows whilst she could be anywhere, hurt for all he knew, made him feel dirty and sick to his stomach. How was he supposed to act so chipper and patriotic in front of the audience whilst his world hung in the balance, threatening to collapse?
"I actually think you have a show tomorrow night, so you'd better get going, Captain. You've got a long way to travel." He urged, not wanting the soldier to miss a money making performance.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you again for your help." He said, resisting the need to grab the jerk by the collar and punch his lights out. Money was all he cared about, and Steve knew that the only reason he was helping him was so the Captain would continue with the performances.
"I'll be in touch." Bran smiled, returning to his paper work, "Would you mind closing the door on your way out, Son."
Gritting his teeth, Steve saluted as was the required professional gesture at his dismissal, then marched out of the office, rage and anxiety gnawing at his gut for supremacy.
Sitting mournfully at the lit up dressing table back stage, the distant sounds of the current stage act drifting on the still air around him, Steve looked at the photographs of himself and Cora as he regretfully waited in costume for his show's time slot. He was so tired, having barely been able to sleep the past few nights.
It had been four days since he had gone to New York to find her, and still he had heard nothing from Senator Bran. He had hoped that perhaps the mail service had simply postponed a letter from her that would explain everything and put his worries to rest, but nothing had arrived.
He wished he could do something other than just wait but he was helpless, having no other contacts that could assist him or clues of where to start looking for her, and it made him angry. This may have be the second time that he wasn't there for her when she needed him, and he hated himself for it.
Steve had reread her letter to see if there was any indication that she could be leaving or if something was wrong, but there was nothing. And he couldn't stop his self deprecating side from wondering if perhaps he had come across too strong with regards to his feelings in his last letter, and she had perhaps left without a word as consequence. Of course, that theory was nigh on impossible for him to accept. Cora was not heartless by any means, and he was certain she felt just as strongly, so it made no sense for her to just cut all ties to him.
Her sudden departure only made some sense if there was something very wrong. Maybe something that she wanted to protect him from, and so didn't mention it in her letter? However, that would suggest a darker side, and he just didn't see that in her at all. In his eyes, she was good, wonderful, pure-hearted. Whatever this situation was, Steve was certain that it wasn't of her doing.
His feelings were strengthened when taking into account the replacement door knob and repair to the door jam. Of course, she could have lost her keys and had to break her way in, but it was unlikely. She wouldn't have the strength to kick down a thick wooden door like that, and besides she would have more than likely just called a locksmith. The possibility of a burglar didn't ring true either as nothing was missing except for some clothes and her painting.
And why was the painting gone? It seemed like such a strange item to take with her without any equipment to work on it. None of it made sense, and all of it pointed to something sinister in his mind.
Steve gently placed the photograph strip on top of her letter and picked up the crumpled cotton handkerchief, playing with it in his fingers. The keepsake no longer held her scent as it once did, but at least the memory of that night would never fade. Even though the handkerchief was scrunched with creases and slightly off colour due to being hidden inside his helmet during training, this small square of fabric still remained dear to him. The embroidered initials reminded him of their introduction, the small faint smudge of red lipstick that he had wiped from his cheek was still present, and the blue paint smear that he had cleaned from her forehead still stained the cotton. So many wonderful memories in such an every day item. He only hoped now that these wouldn't be the only memories he could have of her.
Steve sighed with tired worry, fitting the handkerchief into his strong hand to hold it tightly in his fist, pressing his head anxiously against it, "Please be alright, Cora."
A few short coughs caught his attention, making him swivel in his chair to politely greet whoever was trying to get his attention. When he saw it was Senator Bran, he leapt to his feet immediately.
"Have you found her?" Steve demanded eagerly, ignoring all pleasantries for the moment for the sake of his own sanity.
The Senator stepped forward until he was in front of the Captain, standing still and silent for a moment in the low light, the bulbs of the mirror illuminating him. He wore a dark suit, his hat clasped in front of him with what looked like a newspaper behind it, just peeping over the hats brim. Steve didn't like how serious he looked, and it made his muscles knot and his fingers tremble with horrid dread.
"Yes." He answered simply, "We found her."
"Where is she?" Steve asked, his grip on the cotton handkerchief tightening with every second of the Senator's sombre mood, "Is she alright?"
"Perhaps you had better sit down..."
"Where is she?" He demanded with authority, not caring that he had just yelled in the face of a high ranking official.
With a reluctant sigh and a small nod, Bran handed the folded newspaper to the Captain. Steve was almost reluctant to accept it, his heart on the verge of convulsing, but slowly he took the rough paper and tentatively unfolded it.
"I'm sorry, Son." Offered the Senator mournfully.
Steve's heart split down the centre as he saw the headline of the article: Two Dead As Car Swerves From Road. Below the title were two small photographs: One of an ordinary older man, and next to him a picture of Cora's smiling face.
He could barely breathe, his lungs constricting painfully. His chest felt like it wanted to implode with shocked pain and grief as he stared at her face on the page. It wasn't true, he tried to persuade himself, it was a mistake... It wasn't her, it couldn't be her!
"She was the passenger in that guy's cab." Bran explained gently, "For reasons we don't know, they swerved off the road just outside New York state... and crashed down the hill into a lake. She was identified with dental records and I.D in her possession."
Steve was gritting his teeth against the pain of her loss, both of his hands trembling the newspaper until it began to tear little in his fierce grip as he listened to the Senator's explanation. He couldn't bring himself to read the article, being fixed solely on her photograph instead.
"If it helps at all, she died instantly when the car rolled down the hill, before it hit the lake. She didn't suffer."
He could feel his eyes beginning to blur and sting with unshed tears, his joys wrenched from him cruelly as he knew that he would never get to see her again. He would never speak to her, never hold her hand, never kiss her, never tell her what she truly meant to him. She was lost to him.
"Also... just so you don't think she was running away or something..." Bran added, making Steve look up slowly with a warning as if scolding the official with his glare at suggesting he could think so badly of her, "They found a flyer in her purse of one of your shows. And it makes sense when coupled with the road she was on. She was on her way to see you, I think."
The newspaper ripped in half, no longer able to stand the tension of the Captain's despairing hold. She had known he was Captain America? She had recognised him and was coming to surprise him at one of his performances. As sweet as the gesture was, Steve couldn't stop the guilt and blame that flared in his stomach. If he had just told her what he had become, or if he had gone back sooner, then she never would have tried to find him. She would have never gotten into the cab that led to her death.
"I'm sorry, Captain." Bran said softly, holding Steve's shoulder gently in a show of condolence, "I'll find out for you when the funeral will be."
Steve could only manage to nod slightly in response before the Senator took that as his leave, giving him some privacy to grieve in the quiet of the theatre.
He stood shaking on his own, unable to stop the thoughts of her last frightened moments as they flashed through his tormented mind without mercy. Slowly, with her photo in one hand and her handkerchief in the other, Steve absently sat in the chair again.
His heart was shattered but somehow managed to hammer in his aching chest, rushing a mixture of emotions through his veins from remorse and denial to grief and regret, until it briefly settled on disbelieving and wild rage. Dropping the page and handkerchief, he grabbed the dressing table and flipped effortlessly with a cry of despair, the mirror and bulbs shattering to leave him in more darkness.
Steve stood panting with the pain, guilt and confusion until finally he broke apart. His legs gave out and he fell back onto his behind as silent sobs wrenched at him, his face reddening and contorting with the strain of his lament.
Leaning on his bent knees and grasping his hair, he bowed his head with torturous misery as he openly wept for Cora and the promise he would never be able to keep.