60.
London, United Kingdom
December 31st, 1944
Despite everyone being past exhausted, Peggy Carter is anything but. There's a celebration in Trafalgar Square, the heart of London, that night to celebrate the world transitioning into nineteen-forty-five. Peggy, with all her energy, manages to convince a rather whipped Bucky to accompany her, which in turn means that Isabel and Steve are also attending. At the mention of alcohol, the rest of the Commandos are also keen to investigate the night's shenanigans.
And so, the group of soldiers and their girls with a night of freedom find themselves in the crowded masses of the Square, surrounded by soldiers and civilians who are, for once, dancing and laughing, tasting the wine and whiskey and hot cocoa. They missed out on Christmas cooped up in the guard house at the camp, and so they hope to celebrate enough for both Christmas and New Year, but their tired bones and exhausted bodies most likely won't allow for much. The most they can really hope for is a stiff drink and a kiss as the clock strikes midnight.
The locals have lit old gas lanterns from their basements, filling the Square with a soft light that everyone had thought extinguished when Hitler doused the lights of Europe. It is, of course, still risky to be out in the streets at such a time, after dark. But there hasn't been another Baby Blitz since the last they were caught up in, a few months since the time before that, so they consider themselves relatively safe.
The Square, however, bears the reminder of the brutal consequences of war. It's still beautiful, but it's also in ruins. The entire landscape is covered in snow, which continues to fall from the sky even as they stand their, coating their hair and jackets and enveloping them in a white haze. The towering columns of the gallery have been knocked down, the surrounding buildings riddled with bullet holes and crumbled by canon fire. One of the lions sitting protectively around the fountain in the middle has been knocked off his perch, left in a million stone pieces on the ground to be buried momentarily by the snow. It's shame, but it somewhat gives the city character, a character that reflects the very people who reside within it; a little broken and battered and bruised, but still functioning and still undeniably beautiful.
The Commandos, unsurprisingly, disappear into one of the pubs lining the Square to warm themselves with a drink or four, leaving the Captain and the Sergeant outside in the cold with their girls. They've had enough of being cooped up long enough, and they're embracing the fresh air and the atmosphere, a stark change to what they've grown next to the last few days.
A group of Londoners have gathered in the far corner, singing what the Americans presume are folk songs, people dancing around in the space in front of them. Steve recognises someone doing an Irish jig, a dance his mother had described to him when he'd been a child, though she could never do it very well herself. Steve turns to point them out to Isabel but finds her frowning up at the sky instead. Steve wraps an arm around her waist, and he can feel that she's tense, despite her layers of jackets. Isabel jolts out of her moment of thought, looking up at Steve with a slightly heartbroken expression.
"There won't be any fireworks, will there?" Isabel asks quietly.
"No, honey. Not tonight, the city's still in a blackout," Steve says, a little solemn himself. "It's sort of a tradition, isn't it?"
Isabel nods. "On your birthday and on New Year's."
"We always celebrated something special, didn't we?" Steve agrees. "Another New Year's or birthday meant I'd made it another year, I'd managed to fight and hang on. At least, for me, it was something to celebrate since everything was always so unknown. We never know what was around the corner. We got close at times, didn't we? There were times I nearly didn't make it."
"We still don't know what's around the corner. We still live in the unknown," Isabel points out, frowning with worry. "And now they're have been times all of us have nearly not made it," she agrees, pointedly raising her brows. There have been many close calls for all of them, even her as the medic. They almost didn't see this New Year.
"Let's not think about that," Steve decides, pulling her closer. "Let's just be here, in the now."
"Okay," Isabel agrees.
She looks over to find her brother and Peggy, scanning the crowd. She spots them a few metres away, Peggy's kept curls and the crown of snowflakes on her head catching her attention. Peggy and Bucky are caught up in the crowd as they sway together to the lyrics, Peggy enfolded in Bucky's arms, both of them with such a look of contentment that Isabel has never seen before. Isabel looks away, giving the two some privacy, feeling as though she's imposing on something that should be reserved for only the two of them.
"Come on," Steve says quietly, taking Isabel's hand.
Isabel lets him lead her through the crowd in the direction of the pub the other Commandos had gone into, but he stops just before the almost deserted road, taking a seat on a small concrete wall that overlooks the rest of the Square and down one of the major streets all the way to the River Thames in the far-off distance. It's dark down the street, all of the buildings blacked out, but by the light of the moon and the stars they can just see the glimmer of the flowing river, Big Ben standing tall in the sky.
On the edge of the Square, the light is duller, encircling them in a haze of orange and yellow that flickers, the darkness threatening to overtake it. Isabel sits beside Steve, close enough to soak up his warmth, and turns to face him expectantly. One half of her face is illuminated by the bright, the other half shielded by darkness. Steve cups her cheek with his hand, his eyes drawling over her as though he's memorising every inch, curve, speck, freckle. He runs a thumb lightly over the soft skin of her cheek, over the black bags under her eyes, and then over her red lips, taking a bit of the colour off onto his own thumb. Then, he leans in close, collecting her lips with his own.
They kiss a while, long and passionate and drawn out as though they had all the time in the world. And in that moment, it feels like they do. Sitting on this wall in the Square, it feels like they're a million miles from the war, from the danger, from the responsibility. They can almost imagine that they're back in Brooklyn, living a leisurely life with their families only down the street, unaffected by the challenges of the world as they were in the few months before their lives had blown up in an instant.
Eventually, Isabel pulls away for a breath, and it's like the cord is cut, a flood of noise coming back over them that they hadn't noticed had dulled, their thoughts focused only on each other. Isabel rubs a hand over her hair and then her face, pulling it down with exhaustion. She then digs around in the pocket of her coat, a camel coloured one she brought from Brooklyn, revealing a cigarette pack.
"I borrowed them from Bucky," she says, pulling one of the Marlboros from the packet before closing the lid and pocketing it again. "They're supposed to be for women which is probably why I don't mind this particular type. Bucky's been buying them since one of those girls he took on a date once got him hooked, and now he's convinced all the other Commandos of how nice they are. He's got packets and packets in his room. Thought it might warm us up."
Steve hurriedly pats his pocket and pulls out a lighter. Isabel puckers her lips around the stick and Steve's lights the end of it, eliciting a small sizzle. Isabel takes a deep drag, letting the smoke swirl in her lungs before puffing it out into the night air. She hands the smoke to Steve, who plucks it carefully from her fingers and takes his own whiff. Before the serum, he'd never had a cigarette before; couldn't because of his asthma. He can't say he considers he's missed out on much, maybe because the nicotine has no effect on him, but he can see the appeal. It's got a sweet taste the others he's tried were missing.
They pass it back and forth and smoke it down to a stub, which Steve squashes into the concrete beneath the toe of his dress shoe. Then, Isabel leans her head on Steve's shoulder under the warmth of his arm, her eyes flicking rapidly as she takes in every aspect of the section of the city in front of them plunged into darkness. They sit silently, content, as still as the lion statue beside them, before they're interrupted.
Bucky's hand on Isabel's shoulder makes her jump closer to Steve, eyes wide. She looks up at her brother, who has Peggy hanging off his arm, both of their eyes sparkling in the dim orange light. Bucky, with a smirk on his features, jerks his thumb behind him to the pub where the Commandos are. They can vaguely hear their voices, rising high above the others and echoing into the streets.
"There's only a few minutes 'til midnight," Bucky informs them. Steve's eyebrows rise and he checks his watch, not realising three hours have passed since they'd arrived at the Square. "Thought it might be high time to collect the other boys for the countdown, though I may need a hand. They're causing quite a ruckus."
"And I believe they'll be causing quite a bit more," Peggy adds, smirking toward the pub. "The night is only young, Sergeant."
"Of course, doll. You think you can pull 'em into line?"
"I can only try my best," Peggy replies off-handedly with a smirk that implies that she can, and she will.
Steve and Isabel hop off their spots on the wall and follow Bucky and Peggy toward the bullet-ridden pub, walking into its hazy atmosphere, the air thick with smoke and smelling strongly of alcohol. The bar is packed tightly, a maze of people for them to wind through. Isabel waves a hand in front of her face as she walks right into a fresh puff of smoke from one of the men standing by the bar, who then looks admiringly at her retreating figure. He quickly looks away when Steve follows her, glaring at him in warning.
They make it, eventually, to the back corner of the room. A dartboard is mounted to the wall and the rest of the Commandos are crowded around it, an impressive number of glasses and bottles on the table beside Monty, who's perched on the edge watching Dugan take his shot. Dugan holds the dart loosely in his fingers, one eye closed and his tongue sticking out as he aims toward the board, swaying slightly where he stands.
"Dum Dum, are you shooting lefty tonight?" Morita asks from next to him, watching Dugan with amusement.
"Why do you ask?" Dugan replies, distracted from his task.
"Well I'm curious, considering you're right handed," Morita replies, attempting to keep a straight face.
"Oh," Dugan mumbles, looking down at the dart he holds in his non-dominant hand. "Thought it didn't feel right," he says, flashing a smug smile at Morita as he switches hands. "What would I do without Jim Morita?"
"Hey, c'mon," Jones grumbles, tossing a dart between his hands as he waits patiently for his own shot. "We coulda won if you hadn't told him."
"Well we'd never win if Serge had been playing, anyway," Morita argues. He looks up then, spotting the four who have emerged behind them, Bucky watching Dugan's attempts with an amused smirk. "What'd'ya say, Serge? You wanna game?" Morita asks Bucky.
"Nah fellas, I'm okay. I wouldn't want to make you feel inferior."
"We haven't got time to finish the game if we want to see the new year anyway," Monty says, standing from his perch and looking at his watch.
"It's time to come outside for the New Year's celebration, children," Isabel informs the men, mainly Dugan, who is still attempting to line up his shot. Dugan swings around to face her, and she ducks when the dart comes around wildly with his hand, just skimming the tip of her nose. "Watch it!" She cries, jumping away from him and holding a hand over her face. The other Commandos laugh while she glares playfully at a drunken Dugan. It isn't exactly their first rodeo reigning him in.
"I'll come out and watch if you get a bulls-eye," Dugan bargains, handing the dart clumsily to Isabel.
"I've never played darts before. That's hardly a fair proposition," Isabel replies.
"You've gambled but you've not played darts?" Morita asks, outraged. "You've done the one past time that costs a shit tonne of money?"
"I told you, we played with candy," Isabel reiterates. "We were kids."
"I've played darts once or twice," Peggy speaks up, stepping forward. "Does your offer stand, Dugan, if it's me that hits the bulls-eye?"
Dugan eyes Peggy for a moment, swaying slightly on the spot. "You got a deal, Agent Carter. Make me proud."
He hands over the dart, letting go of it before it's in Peggy's hands. Peggy swiftly moves to catch it mid-air before it hits the floor, raising an unappreciative eyebrow at Dugan. She takes her spot in front of the small piece of tape stuck to the floorboards, heels clacking on the boards. Getting into position, she lines up the shot within a second, and throws the dart with an expert-level stance. The dart flies through the air in a flash, landing with a rattle and a shake in the dead-centre of the bulls-eye.
Peggy turns with a smug smile, holding in a laugh at the gobsmacked expression from the Commandos and a few nearby onlookers. "And that, gentlemen, is how you play darts," she informs them, before taking Isabel's arm and leading her outside.
"That's my girl," Bucky says proudly, following after them, Steve at his six, the Commandos left to scramble after them and fulfil Dugan's promise.
The group returns to their original positions in the somehow even more crowded square, the Commandos filtering out behind them. Monty and Jones have in their hands four flasks of whiskey from Monty's own stash, which he periodically has refilled for every mission and every event, one for each pair to share and toast to the new year. Monty hands one to Steve and another to Bucky, the latter who unscrews the cap and takes a long swig immediately.
"What's going to happen then, if we can't have fireworks?" Isabel asks Peggy, assuming the Brit has attended the ceremony before, or at least knows something about it. She looks around, wondering if anything at all will happen. Perhaps there'll just be a countdown and nothing else.
Before Peggy can respond, a man's voice counts everyone down from three, and a hush of singing takes over the Square, quickly gaining velocity as the crowd of Londoners begin to sing along to the lyrics, their pronunciation somewhat resembling the Scottish accent.
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And old lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
It isn't a song that the Americans have heard, though Monty and Peggy sing along. They vaguely recognise the tune, since they think its been used before for other songs from their childhood, but they can't be sure.
"Originally it was a Scottish folk song," Peggy quickly explains to a confused Steve, Isabel and Bucky, speaking in hushed tones so as to not interrupt the singers around them. "It's sung at New Years, but also to symbolise an ending or a new beginning – farewells, funerals, graduations…" Peggy trails off, picking up the song again.
And surely you'll buy your pint cup!
And surely I'll buy mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We two have run about the slopes,
And picked the daisies fine;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
Since auld lang syne.
We two have paddled in the stream,
From morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
Since auld lang syne.
And there's a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right good-will draught,
For auld lang syne.
Everyone sings together, faces solemn for those who are no longer with them to welcome in the new year, for others who they presume will be coming home. But those who are together are united closer together. It's heartbreakingly melancholic, the melody, drifting through the crowds that join together to mourn and reflect on what they've lost, but also incredibly hopeful for the days and year ahead. A few people join hands toward the end of the song, strangers and friends and family as one. Isabel threads her hand into Steve's, gripping it tightly.
The song peters out into silence again, and the seconds tick past in silence as though everyone were taking a minute of silence. Then, someone cuts through the quiet like a knife and counts down on their watch ten nine eight seven six... The rest of the crowd joins the countdown at seven through to one, gaining momentum and excitement five four three two one. Big Ben chimes loud and mighty in the distance along the river, the clock blaring through the city and declaring it twelve o'clock. A loud cheer erupts through the crowd, followed by laughter and squeals as men grab women around them and draw them in for a new year's kiss, spreading love and kindness and warmth and a thirst for fun.
Peggy grabs Bucky in a long smooch, making his eyes widen in surprise and leaving a red lipstick stain across his lips.
Steve takes Isabel's hand and spins her once, dipping her down low to the ground as she squeals in surprise. He plants a kiss on her lips, slow and timeless, before pulling back with a lovesick smile.
"Happy new year," Isabel says, a little breathless as Steve lifts her up again, holding her close.
"Happy new year," Steve replies. "My second new year's kiss with you."
"You mean your second, ever," Bucky adds helpfully from where he was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation.
"Bucky, keep your big nose out of our business and lay off," Isabel berates her brother without looking away from Steve, a hunger in her eyes and a smirk on her lips.
They hear Bucky sigh. "When I was at basic, I stipulated no one mention anything about my nose," he says with a grumpy tone. Isabel snorts, Steve looks a little confused, and Peggy laughs aloud, pinching Bucky's cheek to wipe away the faux frown.
Isabel and Steve finally stop making eyes at each other long enough for everyone to get their flasks out and unscrew the cap, the strong smell of whiskey rising up to meet them.
"To nineteen-forty-five," Monty says, raising his metal flask toward the cloudy sky.
"May we be successful," Morita toasts.
"May we stay safe," Steve adds.
"May we be free," Jones supplies.
"And may the Captain finally land that knock on ole' Hitler's jaw," Dugan cheers to a round of agreement and laughter.
The four flasks chink together loudly as Steve, Monty, Bucky and Dugan bring them together to conclude the toast. Morita winces at the strength of the whiskey, earning a clap on the back from Dugan in mocking. Peggy, unsurprisingly, takes her drink the best of anyone, barely batting an eyelid at the burn that warms their bellies.
Steve takes a long swig, wincing at the taste before handing it to Isabel, who takes a much smaller sip, swallowing down the burn. She frowns down at the now half-empty flask in distaste; she still can't get used to the stuff. Then, she looks up at Steve, who senses her eyes and follows them, smiling back at her.
"To nineteen-forty-five?" Isabel says, though it sounds more like a question.
Steve seals the promise with a kiss, bringing his lips down to hers.