( HOW WAS THIS FAIR? )
THE NEWSPAPER SLAPPED THE TABLE AS IT WAS THROWN DOWN IN FRONT OF HER, EDITH TRYING NOT TO SPILL THE TEA SHE WAS TAKING A SIP OF IN SURPRISE. The front page, above the fold, read in huge, black letters 400 PRISONERS LIBERATED. Edith wasn't able t read more before Francis was slapping a well manicured hand over the article, smiling widely, "Well, it seems I was wrong about your Steve."
Edith found herself blinking up at her, carefully settling her cup and saucer on the table in front of her, moving Francis' hand off of her paper to get a better look. Dorothy, Connie, and Colette were watching the two, Edith giving them each a look over the top of the paper before she started to read the article. Steve had been gone for a couple of weeks, traveling around Army bases to give the same show to the soldiers and boost moral over in Europe. He had wrote to her that it was more rainy than New York and how he missed her, wishing that he could stay with his wife, but that this needed to be done. Though, that had been a week ago, which had slightly worried her, but it seemed she now knew what he had been up to.
He had saved the lives of four hundred men.
Edith soaked up the article, the worry melting away, being replaced by pride. She couldn't believe that that was her Steve, her husband. He was getting everything he wanted, clearly a war hero now. Captain America had become a symbol from the USO tours, but now he was so much more. He was hope. Hope that they could beat the Axis, that the Nazis weren't going to take over and implement whatever agenda that Hitler had.
"He was in the USO tour, was he not?" Colette asked after Edith put the paper down, her face hurting from how widely he was beaming from the article and pride. She nodded, looking at the others who were giving her smiles back. Francis was even smirking at her with a look of interest. Something about it made her a little uncomfortable. Like Francis was thinking something she shouldn't be.
"Well, hopefully he's serving with Bucky. The two of them seemed to be basically attached at the hip," Connie commented, side-eyeing Francis the same way that Dorothy was, both of them obviously thinking something along the same lines as Edith. She was going to say something she shouldn't. Edith could feel herself bracing for it, her muscles tensing. She glanced down at her tea, watching it ripple with movement. Someone must have bumped the table.
"How close are you and Steve now?" Francis asked, Edith eyes automatically going to her face where her smile had turned sharp. "I mean, with him touring and now getting into the Army, you must have grown apart some, right?" Edith eyes flicked down to her left hand, taking in the blue ribbon that was firmly on her ring finger. The only time it came off was when she needed to bathe or she was cooking and didn't want to make it dirty. Even though it was already darkening from the wear and collecting of the dirt. Pleasant shivers cascaded down her spine when she remembered what had happened before Steve had tied the ribbon around her finger.
"I don't think so," Edith mumbled, meeting Francis' shark-like smile with her own, knowing what the girl was thinking. Now that Steve was bigger, he could have his pick. Women were now interested in him because he was beautiful. Tall, blonde, muscular, the perfect man. The all-American boy, with pretty blue eyes and the friendliest smile anyone could have. Plus, he was just good. But, of course, nobody had noticed that before, except Edith. And that's why Steve had married her. "I mean, I hope not, considering I've been Edith Rogers since the day before he left for Europe."
Francis paled. Edith took pleasure in watching the colour drain from her face. Colette snorted int her tea, Connie tried to cover her laughter by pursing her lips, and Dorothy was snickering, clearly not caring about whether Francis heard it or not.
"But, I don't take it personally that you're asking me if you can try to steal my husband. I understand, he's a very attractive man."
Edith took her tea in hand and sipped it, smiling pleasantly at Francis, whose body couldn't seem to chose between being pale or blushing from embarrassment. She was glad that Francis realized that she obviously made a mistake. Edith was still kinda surprised that Francis would actually ask her if Steve loved her enough to see if she could be a homewrecker.
Edith couldn't wait for Steve to write her so she could have the address to write to. She was going to tell him about this and then warn him what he could expect now that he was a hero.
⚬ ⚬ ⚬
The letter came four days later. Edith read it. And read it. And then read it once more just to make sure she was actually reading it correctly. Then, she promptly ripped the letter. First in half, then again and again and again, until it was in small pieces and she couldn't rip it up anymore. The envelope was picked up and she stared at it, at the address in the corner where she could send letters to Steve and they would make their way to him, wherever he was.
Edith wasn't able to send a letter to Steve until a week later. Every time she had sat down and tried, an almost overwhelming rage would settle in her gut, the words another woman kissed me seared in her brain. Steve had apologized, explained how as soon as he was done fumbling to find words to get her to stop flirting with him and realized that oh, she was kissing him, he had gently pushed her away and told her he was married. And Edith forgave. Of course she did. She was just angry about the fact that another woman had kissed Steve.
The only up side of that week was the water pressure seemed to be better. Other than that, Edith was miserable because she wanted to talk to Steve and hold him and have this conversation in person because it was one of those conversations. But she couldn't and with everything that had happened with Francis (who was no longer invited to the weekly tea and gossip sessions), Edith was understandably a little on edge about the whole thing.
Plus, Colette's marriage didn't seem to be suffering from the distance. In fact, it was like the distance seemed to be bringing her and her husband closer together, the two of them able to write about everything and anything and were currently planning to try and have a baby together the next time he was able to get leave.
She knew Steve loved her. Was in love with her. He wouldn't have told her otherwise. And God, she loved him so much that it hurt sometimes.
The thing that chased the rage away and let her sit down to write to Steve was the letter from Bucky she received. Apparently, Steve was a mess. He was able to function for the Generals and for the mission they had been assigned, but whenever there was downtime, he always sat glumly in the group, not offering anything to the conversation and lost in his thoughts. He was also a little bit more brutal to the Nazis than he first was, which was okay, but he was being reckless. Knowing she had made Steve suffer, even if he did deserve it a little bit, hurt Edith too.
So, she sat down, wrote the letter, and made sure to send a picture of herself with it. She even made sure to leave a lipstick stain over the Your Darling she had written. And if she had apologized for taking a little longer than she should have to reply, it was really only her and Steve's business. Steve was still her Steve and it seemed that women trying to seduce him wouldn't change that. He was still the man she had fallen in love with when he was short and sickly, who probably cared too much for a world that had ignored him before he was the symbol.
The letter she had received from him after that one had a drawing. She cried when she had examined it, depicting her as she laughed at something, her hair in curls and the dress clearly the emerald one Steve loved so much. Her nose was scrunched up cutely, her eyes screwed shut, laughter lines clear on her face. It was obviously from after the World Exposition of Tomorrow, when Steve had convinced her to go to one of those diners that were open late to celebrate the fact that he had gotten into the Army. It was beautiful, made her feel beautiful in a way that only Steve could. She'd pretty sure that she fell in love with him all over again but deeper this time.
It almost felt like she was drowning but she never wanted to come up for air because it didn't hurt. It was the best feeling in the world. Edith really hoped that that was how Steve felt about her. Because she'd gladly live her life gasping for air if it meant he would always be by her side.
⚬ ⚬ ⚬
There was a knock on the door. Edith furrowed her eyebrows, wondering if Mrs. Finch was having a problem with anything. Ever since Rupert had died, she's been having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that it was 1944 and the war was still going on. And when you mentioned the war, she always thought it was either the American Civil War or World War I. It was really quite sad to see and Edith was trying her best to help the older woman in anyway she could.
Putting down the clothes she was working on, Edith got up after securing her needle into her pin cushion, wiping her clammy hands off on her skirt. Another knock sounded, this time more impatient, so Edith quickly walked over to the door and swung it open, only to freeze. "Gordon?"
"Little sister!" He cheered, wide smile on his face as he dropped his duffle in the hallway, moving forward to scoop Edith into his arms. The girl found herself shrieking, tears falling down her face as she hugged him tightly, Gordon carrying her into the living room. Gordon was digging his face into her neck and she could feel his smile, Edith holding the back of his head as she clutched at him.
They hadn't seen each other for a long time, the war keeping Gordon away. But they wrote every chance they got, Gordon hating that he hadn't been able to walk her down the aisle and Edith taking every chance to poke fun about the French woman who always gave him the best coffee.
They hugged for a while, clutching tightly to each other. Edith was crying, the tears just spilling over her cheeks, her one hand petting Gordon's hair, the other one holding him tightly to her. Gordon placed her back on the ground a however long later, pulling back but keeping his hands on her shoulders, staring at her. Taking everything, from the curls in her hair and everything about her face, before smiling widely at her and moving to wipe the tears off of her cheeks. "Should I be expecting a niece or nephew soon? You're usually never crying, Edith."
She smacked his shoulder, before shaking her head and laughing, "No, not yet. Steve doesn't get a lot a leave." He was Captain America and was doing wonders for the war effort, whether it was from motivating soldiers to going on missions that meant he wouldn't be writing for awhile. The last time he got leave was around New Year's Eve, a couple months ago. They had spent the days no more than five feet apart, always close. At night, the were basically laying on each other, touching as much as they could be. And sometimes in the sexual sense, but mostly it was just them trying to get as much skin on skin intimacy as they could before Steve went back to war.
"Well, I want the first one named after me," Gordon told her seriously, poking her stomach. She swatted at him, glaring. Edith opened her mouth to question him about if it's a girl, to which he covered her mouth quickly with his hand and shrugged, "Then the girl's name is gonna be Gordon. Better have a good middle name we can call her." Edith licked her brother's hand, who yanked it back as soon as her tongue touched his hand, "Geez, save it for Steve!"
"You're disgusting," Edith told him, sneering at him as she shoved him away, glaring at him as viciously as she could. Which wasn't much. Edith had missed her brother dearly, hoping the war was over so her, Steve, Gordon, Bucky, and whoever they decided to marry could all be a big, happy family. Living in different houses, but getting together as much as they could. Speaking of marriage, or girls really, Edith felt a smirk start to spread on her face, "So, how's the coffee in France?"
Edith felt a sort of sick glee as she watched her brother turn a brilliant red, one that could have rivaled the colour Steve turned whenever she got him to blush. He didn't say anything, just stared at her for a moment before turning around to grab his bag still in the hallway. Edith was sure she had never seen his neck look that red before and felt pride swell in her chest.
They spent the days that Gordon had catching up, teasing each other, and just being family. Edith was left with her heart full of affection and almost made Gordon leave for his transport back to his post, too busy hugging him to care about when he needed to leave. Their last spoken words were Edith cursing him out when he said the next time he came back, she better be pregnant.
⚬ ⚬ ⚬
Steve was sitting on the couch beside her, book resting lightly on her ankles, his free hand rubbing soothing circles in her exposed calf. Edith was trying to fix up one of Steve's shirts that had gotten ripped at one of the under arm seams, her tongue poking out. And Steve didn't want to be too far, so she had decided that instead of him crowding into her space, she would rest her feet in his lap. Him rubbing his fingers over her calf was just the relaxing bonus that came with it.
Thinking about the last words that Gordon had said to her, she stopped her needle work and looked up to Steve, "Hey, honey?" Steve hummed, looking up from his book, his thumb never stopping on her leg. "What do you think about trying to have a baby?"
Steve jerked a little, seemingly taken aback by the question. Edith felt her eyebrows furrow, worrying her lip as she looked at him. Did that mean he was against the concept? Or that he was just surprised at the question?
Steve seemed to think about it for a moment, before he was marking his page in the book and he clasped his fingers together, resting them on her legs. "Well, with how sick I was before the project, I didn't think about it because I wasn't sure if I would have a chance for it," one of Steve's hands came up and rubbed across his jaw. "But, I guess since it's a possibility, I mean, yeah, I would love to have a baby."
Edith felt herself beam. Steve gazed at her expression, then his own smile was mimicking her's. Edith could picture it now: Steve was going to be an amazing dad. They would get a nice house with a nice yard, Steve could teach them to ride a bike and would try to spoil them rotten when they could afford it. He would provide for them and Edith would stay home and cook and watch the baby and made sure the kid grew up in a good environment.
"Put a baby in me."
Steve's eyes widened at the request, "Right now?"
Edith nodded, moving to set his shirt to the side and out of the way, moving so that she was in Steve's lap, his hands resting respectively on her hips. She leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss, trying to convey all the feelings she was feeling. Most of it was a love that burned so brightly she's pretty sure that it was going to consume her and make her combust spontaneously. She broke away, leaning her forehead on his but kept her eyes shut as she imagined it. Steve taking her, trying to get her pregnant, the amount of times that they would try. A whine escaped her as she opened her eyes and looked into Steve's darkening eyes, "Please."
She's pretty sure that a growl escaped his mouth, his hands moving to grip at her hips to help her move against his lap, where it was very obvious that he was more than interested with the idea. It didn't even surprise her when Steve stood up, his lips meeting her as he used his strength to move them to Edith's room. Distantly, she thought about the book that Steve had been reading and was now on the floor, but then Steve sunk his teeth into her bottom lip and she was consumed with the need to be taken by Steve.
⚬ ⚬ ⚬
A knock on the door startled Edith from her reverie. It wasn't like Steve's or Gordon's knocks. This one seemed like it was a more professional one, not one that was to get Edith off her ass to get to the door. A hand came to rest on hr stomach, hoping that after the last time Steve was here, during the Christmas of 1944, that she finally had a baby in her. That they were going to have a family. Edith cautiously approached the door and opened it slowly, feeling her heart stop when she saw who was standing on the other side.
It was a telegraph boy.
Her ears were ringing as she took the paper, trying not to freak out too much. Once she got the paper, she simply nodded, closing the door on him. She didn't mean to be rude. As soon as she heard the lock click into place, which seemed to echo in her ears, too loud, her back was against the way beside it and she was sliding.
Her vision was bleary from tears, which she just noticed. Edith was pretty sure that she had been crying since she saw the uniformed boy standing at the door. She didn't want to know who this was for. If it was Steve or Gordon, she knew both of them would rip out her heart.
A sob escaped her mouth as she raised a shake-y hand, something jingling in the envelope that was in her hand. Dog tags. It had to be. That meant they were probably dead. She find herself shaking her head, whimpering as she threw the paper clutched in her fingers. Her arms hugged her knees as she brought them up to her body, dipping her head to hide her face.
This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair at all. Gordon and Steve deserved the world. They deserved everything; they didn't deserve to be buried in the ground. Maybe not even that. For all Edith knew, they were lying, dead, in some field somewhere, wishing that someone would come save them.
She needed to know. She needed to know who she wasn't able to hold and calm down and tell that they were loved.
Edith moved to where the paper had hit the ground. She picked it up and with her hands shaking so hard it took her three times, she opened the envelope. The dog tags slid out, clanging on the floor. She ignored them, grabbing the letter.
I regret to inform you, Sergeant Gordon Rutherford has been killed in action.
A sob wracked Edith's body as she curled into herself. She was trembling, shaking so hard she could barely move. Why was it so hard to breathe? Why couldn't she breathe? She just wanted to tell him she loved him, somehow wish she had been there to hold his hand and take the pain he probably felt as he laid in the cold, hard soil. Or was it muddy? Was it so dirty that the wound wasn't even noticeable and the hadn't been able to care for it because it was too infected?
Was there any chance that he could have survived?
She wondered if this is what Steve used to feel like when he had an asthma attack? With added bonus that she's pretty sure her heart was being ripped out.
With shake-y fingers, her hand moved to grip the dog tags. She smoothed over the words, finding herself sobbing harder when she saw Gordon's name and serial number. He was just another soldier lost to them. To Edith, he was so much more.
She slid the chain around her neck, glad that they had put it on one, and gripped the metal tag so hard in her hand she's sure it was cutting it, her sobs echoing through the empty apartment.
How was this fair?
____________
y'all probably thought it was steve.
so, gordon died in january of 1945. i know it's quite a time skip, but just know that he was had a few leaves in which edith and him bugged the fuck out of each other. i feel so sorry for edith. she about to lose steve and bucky in the next chapter.
that means there is two more chapters to this 'volume'. holy moly.