31.
London, United Kingdom
December 3rd, 1943
Steve finds Isabel on the roof of the building they're staying in, ten floors above the busy London streets and the underground Strategic Scientific Reserve bunker. Isabel stands by the edge of the building, a concrete barrier between her and falling over the edge as she leans over to watch below and look out at the darkening London skyline. Hundreds of cars honk below as they sit bumper-to-bumper in peak-hour traffic, all fighting to get home before the blackout. It's freezing outside, especially so high up, snow threatening to fall over the city any day. The gloominess is heading their way, about to descend on the city.
Steve emerges onto the rooftop and the squeak of the roof access door doesn't draw Isabel's attention. He walks up to her carefully, not wanting to scare her when she's apparently lost in her thoughts, and clears his throat loudly, but she still doesn't turn. As he gets closer, he realises that she's holding his box brownie camera in her hands when she raises it to take a photograph of the London skyline, sighing when she can't get the camera to cooperate with the darkness and the lights. She turns around, facing away from the view and fiddles with the controls.
Steve's shoe scuffs loudly along the ground, making her jump in surprise. She fumbles the camera but doesn't drop it, thankfully.
"Steve?" She gasps, holding a hand to her chest. She sits back against the concrete wall, her back to the city. "You scared me," she breathes out a laugh.
"Sorry," Steve chuckles. "I was trying to get you to notice me." He walks up to her carefully, leaning against the wall beside her. "Is that my camera?"
Isabel looks down at the camera, eyes widening slightly. "Yes. I hope you don't mind me borrowing it. When we were packing our possessions before you took the serum I packed it in my suitcase. I thought it might have been nice to take some photographs of what we were doing and the places we would be going to."
"Of course, it's okay," Steve reassures. "What have you taken photos of?" He asks curiously.
He had no idea Isabel had an interest in photography. Neither Bucky nor Isabel have ever owned a camera or spent the money to purchase one. Winifred, however, has a camera, so luckily the Barnes family has been able to make lasting memories with that. Still, Isabel and Bucky had both joined their money together one year to buy Steve the camera he'd wanted for Christmas. Since then, Steve has used it religiously to document their lives. In Brooklyn, he'd been the only one who ever thought to use the camera, like the night they'd all moved into their own apartment. Though, usually when he pulled it out, Isabel and Bucky also had a turn taking photographs. Usually, Steve took the camera with them on their journeys and took photographs as inspiration for sketches he'd do later on.
"Well, I'm not very good. I haven't as much practise as you," she laughs. "I've just been photographing the scenery. When you were practising for the USO Tour and I had free time, I took it with me around the cities and took some photos. I snapped a few of you practising onstage in your costume at one point, too. I got a few of the actual shows as well, but I had to sit in the audience to get them. It's just nice to document, you know? So that we don't forget."
"I doubt we'll forget any of this, but you're right," Steve laughs. "Perhaps you missed your calling. Maybe you should be following around with those journalists that took the film of us at the camp."
"I'd need a lot more practise. I've been trying to get this view before the lights go out for the blackout, but I just can't get the lighting to work. It's too dark and the lights are blurred, it won't focus," Isabel mutters.
She hands the camera to Steve when he motions for it. He adjusts a few of the controls and checks himself, before handing it back. Isabel looks through the small eye-lens at the image before snapping it triumphantly.
"Thanks," Isabel says with a bright smile. "It's beautiful, right?" She asks, looking back over her shoulder at the lights. The wind blows her hair into her eyes and she pushes it away with her hand, but it stubbornly returns with the next gust. "So similar to New York but so different at the same time."
"Yeah, it is," Steve agrees, enjoying the fresh air after so many days of being stuffed underground talking tactics.
Some of the roads are cobblestoned, hundreds of years old, and its fascinating to think of how many people have walked the paths, how many horses and carriages passed by before cars were invented. The buildings have an English feel that New York lacks, all old and white and beautifully architectured. There's an awful lot of cathedrals across the skyline, the dome of St. Pauls sticking up in the middle of the city, Westminster Abbey toward the river. But Steve still finds himself missing the fire escapes hanging over the footpath and the brownstone buildings, the bustling store fronts below the apartments, and the view of the towering Manhattan skyline far in the distance across the East River.
"Still doesn't beat good ole Brooklyn, though, right?" She smirks at him, knowing exactly what's on his mind.
"Right," Steve agrees with a small smile.
The wind blows again and Isabel shivers against it, burrowing a little further into her thin coat. Her hair goes in her face and her mouth and she quickly pries it away from her face. "Should've tied it back," she grumbles, tucking it behind her ears. "This reminds me of that night on the Parish rooftop with a little more chill and a little more wind," Isabel murmurs.
"When we looked at the stars, right?"
"Yeah. You know, if you risked coming out here in a few hours during the blackout, it would be almost like you were in the countryside. The stars would be so bright and there'd be so many. I asked Bucky about it. He said that if it's dark enough, without the glow of a city and if it's the right time of the year, you can see the Milky Way Galaxy across the sky. He saw it while he was in one of the trenches one night." She looks up contentedly, her arm waving in one smooth motion across the dull grey sky to indicate where the galaxy would spread, like a painting. "I've never seen the stars like that. Never ever been to the countryside until we were at the Azzano camp, but then we didn't exactly have time to stop and look."
"I'd say we could stay out and watch, but I doubt we want to go up against an air raid. Even I can't fight off twenty fighter planes."
"You don't know until you try, Stevie," Isabel replies with a smirk.
"Yeah, well, it's also freezing. Your lips are turning blue," Steve retorts.
He quickly unbuttons his uniform coat and slips it over Isabel's shoulders. "Won't you be cold?" She asks hesitantly.
"Don't really get cold anymore," Steve tells her. "Radiator, remember?"
Isabel huffs. "It's hardly fair. How are you so warm?" She huddles into the jacket, slipping her arms into the sleeves. The jacket looks awfully big on her, almost swallowing her whole, but it's also adorable. She smiles up at him. "You know what else would be warm?" Isabel asks.
She feels much more confident in flirting with Steve now that she knows that her feelings are reciprocated. She only wishes Bucky had admitted to it long ago or that Steve had. It seems like they've wasted so much time.
"What?"
"Dancing."
Steve's mouth opens and closes momentarily. "But we don't have any music."
"Doesn't matter," Isabel says, pushing herself off the wall and putting the camera carefully on the ground. She puts both hands in front of her, waiting for Steve to take them. "Come on, soldier. You promised me a dance. I'll show you how."
Steve doesn't hesitate, especially not when she turns on the doe-eyes, taking her hands and letting her lead him away from the wall. She stops so that the city is still in full view, but they have enough room to waltz around.
"Surely you know the basics, you've watched Bucky and I dance enough times," she laughs. "Put your hands here, and here," she instructs, moving his hands into the right positions on her waist, the other holding hers outward from their bodies. "The easiest way to dance is to just sway. Step to the same side as me at the same time. Pretend there's a beat."
She takes the first step and Steve follows awkwardly, his body rigid. "Relax," she tells him, squeezing his shoulder a little. Steve instantly tries to relax but her touch only makes him tense up more. He makes himself concentrate and follows along to her steps.
"I feel like it would be much easier with music," Steve says, frowning down at his feet.
"Deaf people can still dance and so can the blind so don't even try that excuse," Isabel counters, raising her eyebrows. "Here, I'll help you. I don't want to set the world on fire. I just want to start, a flame in your heart..." Isabel begins to sing, choosing a song with a slower beat, adjusting their swaying just a little to match.
She continues to sing a while, her voice quiet and soft, until Steve gets the hang of the pace their keeping and her voice peters off into a quiet hum of the melody. She's got a nice voice, soft and almost angelic, but Steve doesn't want to ask her to continue singing if she doesn't want to.
"You'd think I'd be a better dancer with the serum," Steve mumbles, his cheeks reddening at his horrible attempt.
Isabel laughs, breaking off her attempt at keeping to a beat. "You'll get it, don't worry. We'll work on it. I'm just glad you're here."
"Has taken a while, hasn't it?" Steve says sadly.
"Hmm. Doesn't matter now, all that matters is that we're here." She steps away from him a little. "Ready for something fancy?"
Steve is about to protest, having only just gotten used to swaying, when Isabel lets go of one of his hands, spinning under his arm and out, their hands still connected but outstretched. She taps her foot on the ground before twirling back into his arms, her hair and dress flying around her, bumping his chest a little with hers when she makes it back.
"Fancy, right?" She laughs with a raised eyebrow.
"Definitely," Steve agrees, his cheeks flushed, sounding a little breathless. "And what if we did this?"
Steve attempts to recreate what he's seen Bucky do on occasion. He spins Isabel out again, a little faster this time, then brings her back in to him, only to dip her backward, low toward the ground. She laughs aloud in amazement, letting Steve pull her back into a standing position.
"You saw Bucky do that, didn't you?" She laughs, her cheeks a little flushed. "It always gets the ladies."
"I never would have been able to do any of that a few months ago," Steve reminisces.
"Because I outweighed you," Isabel chuckles. "You could've danced, just swaying is fine with me."
"One day I'll learn all the dances," Steve promises, holding her close. "I'll dance with you in the halls and at parties. To any song. We can tango and jitterbug and foxtrot around the kitchen..."
"Sounds perfect," Isabel breathes, smiling up at Steve with her bright doe-eyes.
Her heart jumps at the thought of domestic life with Steve, of their own apartment and a brightly-coloured kitchen to dance and cook in and the joy of coming home. Steve himself feels his heart flutter, finding himself looking at Isabel properly for what feels like the first time. Another gust of wind blows them, strong enough that it makes them stumble slightly. Isabel's hair flies straight back into her eyes, and before she can move it, Steve pushes it away from her face for her, smiling down at her with this soppy smirk.
"You remember how I was colour-blind before the serum?" Steve asks.
"Yes. I still don't know how you could paint."
"That's why I used graphite more. I could only use colour paint and pencils when I had help picking out the right colours. Anyway, I, uh, I never knew what colour your eyes were," Steve tells Isabel with a frown, staring intently into her eyes. "What I imagined was so wrong. I don't think I ever could have imagined it properly; I'm just not that creative."
"What did you imagine they were?" Isabel asks curiously.
"Well, to me everything was just a form of grey. Except yellow; I could see yellow, don't ask me why. Your eyes, they were grey too, but a darker grey, so I knew they had to be a darker colour. I thought maybe they were green or hazel, but they're not as I'm sure you know. They're a grey blue, and they change with your mood. When you're happy, they seem to be bluer, like a cerulean ocean. But when you're angry or sad, they turn grey, like the sky on a stormy night; beautiful and dangerous all at once."
"No one's ever describe my eyes like that before," Isabel chuckles, her cheeks only slightly tinged red with embarrassment (which Steve can actually see now), searching Steve's own eyes.
"Guess there's a first for everything."
"You sure you shouldn't have been a writer rather than an artist? Actually no, that's ridiculous. You are insanely talented." Isabel pauses, looking thoughtful. "You'll keep up your art, right? Now that your Captain America?"
"Of course," Steve says immediately. "I love it too much to just stop. I was worried for a while my new hands wouldn't be able to draw like they used to, but they can. It's like a muscle memory, engraved forever. I don't think I'll ever forget how to draw and paint and sketch. And without it, my hand starts to twitch for a pencil. Or I see something and I just have to draw it. I'll never be able to stop."
"Good," Isabel says, sounding rather relieved. "I don't know if I could stand to see you give it up. I know you love it, but I don't think you realise how much joy it brings others, too."
"I remember," Steve says with a content smile, remembering his mother's grin at his drawing of her, Winifred's squeal of delight when she unwrapped her commission of her children.
Steve looks down again, snapping out of the memories, and Isabel looks quite solemn. "What's wrong?" Steve asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Isabel looks up, sighs lightly. "You'll be careful, won't you? When the missions get harder and longer and more dangerous. You'll look after your little pal Bucky?" She adds the last line to add some humour to the situation, having turned it so solemn so quickly.
Steve looks like he wants to argue stubbornly that he's always careful, but at the look Isabel gives him, he closes his mouth. "Of course. We gotta get back to our best gal."
"Yeah, you do. You promise you'll both come back?"
"I think we'll have a hard time doing anything else," Steve promises.
They sway a little longer, the sky ever blackening around them, the lights of the city starting to shine momentarily. They both look out at the view, their attention switching between each other and the skyline, before suddenly, as the clock strikes eight, all of the lights snap off in one instant like a domino effect as the blackout takes effect. They watch each light extinguish, one after the other, descending them into a darkness, everything only illuminated by the wide moon above.
Isabel looks away, since there isn't really anything to look at anyway, and back up to Steve. "Can we talk about something?" Isabel finally asks.
"Sure, about what?"
"Well, it begins with a "u" and ends with "s"," Isabel says, losing her courage from moments before and hoping Steve will pick up the conversation for her.
"You want to talk about the United States?" Steve asks seriously, looking confused and worried, but then his mouth hitches into a smirk. "I'm only kidding."
Isabel laughs, hitting at his shoulder lightly. "I thought that the spangles had invaded your brain for a moment then."
"Actually Belle, I think we should talk about us, too. There was something I wanted to tell you before we leave for the mission tonight."
"What is it?" Isabel asks quickly, relieved that Steve is possibly on the same page as her.
"Well first of all, I wanted to apologise about what happened with Private Lorraine." Isabel's face contorts a little, but she says nothing, nodding for Steve to continue. "She… She was making advances at me and I just, I didn't know how to turn her down. I was trying to let her down gently, you know, was changing the conversation and moving away from her, and then next second, she's dragging me behind the shelf and kissing me. I just froze on the spot. That's never happened before, it was more Bucky' style. I managed to get my wits about me and I pushed her away. I was in the middle of telling her I already had a girl when Peggy interrupted me."
Isabel's eyes soften, and she smiles up at Steve. "It's okay, Stevie. I know, Peggy told me. It isn't your fault, you don't have to apologise."
"But I do," Steve insists. "It should never have happened, I shouldn't have let it go that far. So, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Belle."
Isabel laughs lightly and kisses his cheek. "I forgave you long ago, Steve. You don't gotta worry. You know I can't stay mad at you, especially not with those sad little baby blues."
Steve laughs, too. "Good, because same goes for you."
"So, that was your first point. Was there a second thing you wanted to talk about?" Isabel presses.
"Yeah, uh…" Steve laughs suddenly, removing his hand from hers to run a hand through his hair. Isabel's hand falls to his other shoulder. "I've been practicing what I was going to say for days – made Bucky listen to it back in our room, much to his disgust – and now I can't even remember it."
Isabel waits patiently as Steve collects himself, her heart fluttering wildly. She wonders if Steve can feel it. He takes her hand again from his shoulder and they continue to sway back and forth in silence, Isabel leaning a little further into Steve's chest, her eyes watching him carefully. Her stomach seems to be doing aerobics inside her, a feeling of excited nausea overcoming her.
"Alright, I can't remember what I was supposed to say so I'll just come out with it. I was wondering if you'd–"
Steve is cut off by the door to the roof bursting open, the wood slamming against the frame and the hinges threatening to snap. Steve immediately pushes Isabel behind him at the threat but relaxes when he sees the intruder on their moment is Falsworth. Monty pants slightly as he runs over to the couple, Isabel stepping out from behind Steve.
"Falsworth?" Steve asks questioningly, his distinct, authoritative Captain America voice drifting into place once again within a split second.
"Captain," he addresses, ever into formalities. "We've been running all over searching for you. We just received news: the second factory in France knows we're coming. They're sending reinforcements to protect it now. We need to go straight away if we're going to intercept them in time and get out again. Once the factory's too heavily guarded, we'll never get in. The plane's ready and waiting for us."
At that moment, Bucky steps through the doorway to the roof, much calmer than Falsworth. "If you two are done being disgusting?" He asks Isabel and Steve, stopping beside Falsworth. "Just thought I'd remind you there's still a war going on, in case it slipped your minds."
Steve glares at Bucky, giving him a pointed look. Bucky's eyes widen slightly when he realises Steve was finally growing a pair and their moment was interrupted. Isabel looks both annoyed and embarrassed, standing with her hands clasped in front of her and cheeks red, still donning Steve's jacket.
"Dammit," Steve mumbles under his breath, looking apologetically at Isabel beside him.
"Go," she reassures, taking a hesitant step further away from him. "Go get them."
"I'll come back," Steve promises.
He hesitates for a second, one step closer to the door, before one hand grips the back of Isabel's head lightly, holding her in place as he lightly kisses her on her forehead.
Then, he's running off through the roof access, Falsworth flanking his heels. Bucky stays only a second longer to wave goodbye before he disappears as well, and Isabel is left wondering whether it all had only been a dream. It wasn't though, and the thought makes her smile and bite her lip, the spot on her forehead tingling from the touch of Steve's lips and the warmth of Steve's jacket securely around her.
A/N:Hi everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Thanks for all the follows, favourites and reviews, they mean the world to me. Please continue to review and let me know what you're thinking of the story, plot and characters. We're going exciting places from here on, so prepare for a lot of action!
The song Isabel sings is called "I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire". It was written in 1938 but recorded in 1941. It was recorded by various artists including Horace Heidt, The Ink Spots (this is the version I am familiar with), Tommy Tucker, Mitchell Ayres and Vera Lynn. It's lyrics, particularly "I don't want to set the world on fire / I just want to start a flame in your heart" made it very popular after the attack on Pearl Harbour in December 1941.
Also, just to make it clear, the camera that Steve and Isabel is using is called a Brownie camera, or box brownie, and no that was not a typo. My grandmother has one at her house that still works and it is so cute! It was first introduced in February 1900 as a form of low cost photography that introduced the concept of the snapshot to the masses. People could take portable and affordable photographs whenever and wherever. The Brownie was a very basic cardboard box camera with a simple meniscus lens that took 2 1/4-inch square pictures on 117 roll film. Because of its simplicity, the initial price was $1, equivalent to $29 in 2017, and along with low prices for the film rolls and processing, it was extremely popular.