Shrill ringing bounces off the walls and amplifies with each passing second. Four sentences are lost as Harry bolts out of bed to kill the noise. He knew it was going to go off soon and that he should've just waited in the kitchen with his textbook, but his back was killing him and the bed was far more appealing than leaning against the hard counter in his kitchen.

Once again, rushing isn't a good idea and an explosive pain pummels his legs and nearly sends all one hundred and thirty-two pounds of him toppling to the floor. A startled and rather high pitched noise escapes his vocal chords before he finds his footing again and continues his path to the kitchen.

He's taking too long and he refuses to slow his pace because the cookies already smell like they've started to burn. It's already bad enough that he's made an absolute mess trying to make them in the first place, burning them would ruin everything.

The ringing is significantly louder in the kitchen and Harry finds himself wondering why anyone would create a device that produces such an obnoxious noise. Sure, it's helpful for cooking, but it serves the same purpose as an alarm clock and those drive him crazy too.

As quickly as possible, he reaches over the stove and pushes the dial back to zero and ends the incessant ringing. Smoke is starting to float through the corners of the oven door, churning in the air and floating in images behind his eyes. Images of burning buildings and burning men float around in his head like they're wearing Mae West's and determined to stay afloat.

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Peggy's done something similar before and it helps her win the war over her memories, so he figures it might work for him too. Normally, he writes his memories down after he sees them, but the notebook is on his nightstand and the cookies are already burning.

Unfortunately, he's still breathing in smoke and it's making his throat scratchy. The fire alarm has started blaring to make up for the lack of noise the timer has ceased emitting. Annoyed with the shrill noise ricocheting off the walls and back to his ears, he reaches into the oven without oven mitts.

Searing pain consumes his hands as smoke clouds the room. Harry nearly throws the tray against the wall. The fire alarm is screaming at him and the smoke is trying to smother him the longer he lingers in the kitchen.

Burnt. The cookies are definitely burnt.

He waves his hand in front of his face to clear the air a bit as he shuts the oven off. Baking cookies seemed like a good idea and now he's starting to regret getting the idea in the first place.

Everyone in the building is out except Peggy because she took the day off. Harry hopes that she'll stay in her apartment. The need for her help has become less embarrassing, but he doesn't want her to see that he can't even make a batch of cookies by himself without nearly burning the building down.

Outside, the snow has stopped smothering the city, but the air is still determined to gift some lucky individuals with frostbite. Unfortunately, the only option he has is to open the window and forfeit his warm air for frosty air that wants to kill him.

Lola's coming to see him tomorrow and it looks like she's going to have to deal with the smell of burnt cookies for a few days. Hopefully, she won't mind it too much. It's not like she'll be staying with him for the few days that she's in town because she's used to nice hotels and his apartment is nothing like any kind of fancy hotel.

Harry pulls on another sweater and starts fanning the smoke out the window with yesterday's newspaper. Five minutes pass before the fire alarm stops screaming and his hands start to feel like they're made of ice. The smell of smoke still lingers in the air even though all the gray tendrils have floated into the snowy city outside.

With a small hope that the smell will go away with time, he leaves the window open and heads back into the kitchen to see how badly he's ruined the cookies he was making for Peggy. On the surface, they look alright, but he practically has to scrape them off the bottom of the pan.

They look salvageable and he uses a butter knife to scrape off as much burned dough as possible. The result isn't pretty, but Peggy doesn't care much about pretty. She sees hundreds of things that aren't pretty every day and she's still just as happy with her work and with her life.

Sure, he knows that she enjoys them, but at least the cookies will make her laugh. He hates how sad she's been these last few days and he hopes that some misshapen cookies will at least get her to smile.

Two days have gone by since he walked to the cemetery with her and laid in the snow beside her father's grave. She won't tell him how he died. He asked a few times when he was trying to get her to talk about it so she would feel better, and she told him that he didn't want to know.

Harry's decided not to ask again. If she wants to tell him, she will. She's always so patient and kind with him and it's the least he can do besides trying to make her smile with burnt cookies and a book he found in one of the shops downtown.

Sadly, he's also made a huge mess of his kitchen and his clothes. With a heavy sigh, he closes the window and trudges into the kitchen to clean up his cookie disaster. If he leaves it, he won't get back to it for days and he doesn't want Lola to think he's a slob.

Cleaning the kitchen isn't too bad, but he knows things are going to get messy when he gets in the shower because there's a thick layer of flower in his hair. He really should start to rein in on his habit of running his hands through his hair, it isn't ideal in certain situations.

Maybe he should just cut it again. The memories aren't as bad anymore and his hair is getting rather long...

Harry flicks the light on in the bathroom and uncovers his mirror. He can still hardly recognize himself even though he did look a few months ago. His long hair throws him off, but at least it saves him from being sucked back into the war.

But is saving himself from the memories really helping? Ignoring the problems seemed like a good solution at first, but now he's thinking that facing it would have been a better decision. At least if he faced it he wouldn't have to worry so much about other people finding out about his past or seeing his scars.

And quite a few people have proven that the scars that litter his body don't matter, he just hasn't been paying attention. Lola's helped him recognize that and he's incredibly grateful to have her in his life, Peggy too. Both women have helped him step back into society and out of the melancholy attitude that had started to consume every aspect of his life.

Cutting his hair again might augment the good things in his life again and he thinks now is the time to make that change. A pair of scissors sits in the drawer beside him and taunts him the longer that he looks at his reflection.

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to clarify his conflicting thoughts. If he does this, he can't go back and he runs the risk of amplified flashbacks. And, if he doesn't, he's still running away from his problems and that's not the man that he wants to be—not the man that he is.

For the last time, he runs his right hand through his tangled and flour coated hair. No more running away.

With slightly trembling hands, he opens the drawer and fits the scissors on his fingers. Time hasn't touched them at all and the silver shines even in the dim lighting.

He needs to fix the light too. Using his bathroom has felt like being inside a cave for months and he just hasn't had the motivation to fix the damn light yet.

Silver scissors rise slowly and gradually snip away at his brunette curls. The metal is slightly dulled from lack of use and some strands take a few tries to cut loose, but that doesn't deter his task at all.

Eight minutes pass before he lays the scissors on the counter and deems his hack job haircut alright for now. A trip to the barber shop will fix it after he's cleaned himself up.

Harry turns on the shower and disposes the remainders of his long hair in the waste bin. The bathroom quickly fills with steam and the gentle hum of hot water falling from the showerhead and into the porcelain tub below.

Baths are easier on his legs, but they make it harder for him to get up and he wants to go over to Peggy's soon because he needs to do this for her. She's always done more than necessary for him and it's the least he can do.

He discards his clothes and shoves his hand under the water to make sure that he likes the temperature before he steps in. The water always must be just under scalding or he won't get in. Cold water sends his mind into a frenzy and traps him in the war, and water slightly above tepid does the same, but in a different climate.

Everything about his daily routine holds some significance and he hates that it's that way. War ruined all chances of him living a normal life. It doesn't matter if he can make the memories less painful and more tolerable, something will always trigger one and he won't ever be able to forget.

A relieved sigh passes his lips as he steps into the nearly scalding water. The spray from the showerhead feels heavenly against his skin and it soothes his aching muscles momentarily. Despite how simple his job is, it takes a lot out of him. He's grateful to have a job in the first place because there are a lot of people like him who can't find work.

Running his fingers through his fresh haircut is strange, but the lack of weight there is rather nice. Although, it does make him feel like his head is a lot smaller than it should be.

He's not being careful and soap finds its way into his eyes and burning the sensitive membrane instantly.

Water embraces him like a mother, holding him close and promising never to let him go. It fills his lungs and burns his eyes as it drags him down with the boat. He hit his head on something when the bomb hit and woke up alone and drowning in the ship that was meant to keep him safe.

All his comrades are gone and his only company is the water that's threatening to drown him. Something's got a hold of his arm and its grip is like a block of cement, keeping him a prisoner in this watery grave.

Harry knows that he shouldn't pull it, but his oxygen is escaping him rapidly and he refuses to die like this. Something snaps and a scream erupts from his lips and releases precious bubbles of oxygen.

Panic takes root in his mind.

Unnoticeable tears stream from his eyes as he wrestles with the heavy object that's trapped his arm. He's screaming at the top of his lungs and no one can hear him. Everything's blurry and black dots are taking over his field of vision.

There's a splash from somewhere above him and the weight on his arm evaporates. Black consumes his sight and his lungs are screaming for even the smallest amount of oxygen. Someone takes his arm and pulls him to the surface.

An unfamiliar hand slaps his face and pulls at his clothes. Mumbled words float through his ears in jumbled syllables that don't make sense.

Harry's about to ask whoever it is to repeat themselves, but the sound of a plane's engines closes in and bullets fall like rain. The unfamiliar man pushes his head underwater and suddenly he's drowning again.

There wasn't enough time to reanimate his lungs and his brain isn't functioning like it should. Bullets smack into the dark water and spiral past him at various angles, each one getting closer to grazing his skin.

Only seconds have passed and his lungs are already collapsing. The torrential downfall is still raging on above the surface, but he needs to breathe or he'll have no chance of trying to stay alive. His head breaks the surface and a bullet tears into his right palm.

Harry's head smacks against the porcelain and a loud groan echoes in the small room. The water's cold now and not at all relaxing as it coats his skin. He's not drowning again, but his lungs are still working in overdrive and he can hardly breathe.

To make matters worse, he's definitely hurt himself and he's not entirely sure that he can get up on his own. Fortunately for him, his fall made quite a bit of noise. Peggy's already knocking on his door with her lip caught in a tight vise between her teeth.

"Harry? Are you alright?"

It's incredibly hard to hear her over the water, but he already knows what she's asked and shouts back, "No! Can you help me? The door's unlocked!"

Peggy doesn't hesitate to twist the knob and enter his apartment. She's never seen the inside before and it looks a lot nicer than he lets on. It smells like he burnt far too many pieces of toast and it takes some effort to keep her laughter to herself.

There's steam floating under the bathroom door and she can hear the water running. He's probably fallen in the shower and she's incredibly nervous to help him even though she knows that he needs it.

"Harry?"

"In here!"

She hesitates with her hand on the doorknob and her teeth in her cheek. "Are you naked?"

He really wants to laugh at the question because he's almost forgotten that he is naked. "Unfortunately, yes."

Peggy doesn't answer immediately and he adds, "Could you hurry? The water is like ice."

The door swings open two seconds later. Peggy steps inside the foggy bathroom with her eyes cast to the floor. She's seen him naked before but she doesn't want to look because it won't help anything between them.

With quick hands, she puts an end to the ice water and retrieves a dry towel from the rack across the room.

"Can you get up by yourself?"

Harry shakes his head and shifts uncomfortably in the bathtub, "No."

The towel feels heavy in her hand. If he can't get up himself, she has to look in order to help him up.

Easy laughter floats up from the bathtub and warms her ears, "If you're worried about seeing me naked, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

She can't help the soft laugh that falls from her lips in return. He's right, even if he doesn't know how much it hurts her to know that he's over it like it was last week's news. But, there's no avoiding this and she told him it was fine, so she's going to pretend like it is.

"You're right. Let's do this then, yeah?"

Peggy sets the towel on the counter and reaches for his hands, her eyes glued to his torso. Everything will be fine if she doesn't look down. Don't look down, Peggy.

Harry pulls on her hands and she nearly falls on top of him. This was a bad idea from the start. She's not strong enough to pull him up on her own and if he tries to use his legs too much, he risks making them worse.

"Would it hurt your legs too much if you planted your feet and push yourself up a little?"

Pain is already shooting through his ankle, but he knows she can't do it alone. "I can try."

Trying is excruciating. He hurt more than just his ankle when he fell and, God, can he feel it now. Walking to the bed is a challenge he never expected, but he pushes through it and practically cheers when his body falls into the mattress.

"I'm never going to shower again."

Peggy laughs as she covers him with the soft towel, "Don't be ridiculous."

Harry looks at her as seriously as he can manage, the smallest of smiles playing with the corners of his lips, "Oh, I meant it. No more showers for me. Too dangerous."

She playfully rolls her eyes, "I'll be sure to write Lola and tell her to wear a nose plug the next time she comes to see you."

"I won't smell by then."

One of her eyebrows lifts curiously and he adds, "She'll be here tomorrow."

Peggy avoids his eyes as she starts looking for noticeable swelling and bruising. "How long is she staying for?"

"A few days. I hope you'll get a chance to meet her, she's lovely. You'd like her."

Except she knows that she already doesn't like her. The woman took an entire month to phone him and her excuses really didn't sound too believable. She hasn't met her yet, but she already doesn't like her and it doesn't help that it looks like she's only using him for sex. He hasn't told her if he's mentioned his past yet, but she has a feeling that he has.

Lola is a wonderful singer, but she's not sure how good of a person she is.

"What hurts and how badly does it hurt out of 10?"

Harry notices the change in subject and figures she doesn't know what else to say to that, "My left ankle, my head, and my...uhm...and my bum. Five, three, and seven."

"Why didn't you say something! Laying on your back certainly isn't helping! Turn and lay on your side, I'll see if anything's broken."

With flushed cheeks, he does as he's told. "How can you tell without an x-ray?"

Peggy bites her cheek to keep her thoughts professional, "Feeling around and checking for swelling. I'd take you to the hospital, but I could barely get you out of your bathtub."

"How lovely."

"Could always just let you suffer."

Warm laughter fills the space around them, "Please don't."

Cold hands greet his skin and a small gasp escapes his lips. He wasn't expecting her hands to be so cold.

Everything about this is incredibly awkward and he's not sure if he should say something to fill the silence. Peggy beats him to it, "Sometimes it's just deep bruising. People usually writhe around in pain when it's broken. It might be different for you, though. I'm sure you've been through worse pain."

"You have no idea."

Nothing feels out of place, but there is some swelling and light bruising. Luckily for him, all he's done is bruise his bum.

"The good news is that you've just managed to bruise it. Bad news is that it's not going to be very pleasant for a few days. Does your ankle feel like it's fallen asleep?"

Harry shakes his head, "No, feels like someone got inside it and started cutting things that shouldn't be cut."

Peggy frowns and pulls the sheet up to cover his backside since the towel is exclusively being used to cover his manhood. It sounds like he's pulled a muscle and he's probably sprained it too.

Her fingers gently press into his skin, "Can you move it at all? Or your toes?"

She watches all five of his toes wiggle and hears him wince as he lifts his ankle. "Hurts like hell, but I can move it if I want to."

Nothing feels broken, but she's positive that he's sprained it. "Also not broken and will be painful for a while. I'll have to grab some bandages from my apartment and a torch to check your pupils."

"My pupils?"

Gentle laughter floats behind Peggy as she makes her way to the door, "We'll learn about that during your next lesson. I'll be right back."

She's true to her word and pops back in only a minute or two later with bandages, a bottle of pills, and a small torch. Harry sits up and does his best to ignore the pain in his backside so her job is a little easier.

Peggy sits on the edge of the bed and starts asking him questions that he never even knew were supposed to be asked when someone hit their head.

"Are you nauseous?"

"No."

"Can you hear alright?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a headache?"

"Not exactly."

He's warned about the light before she turns it on and directs it toward his eyes. It burns and he tries his best to keep his eyes open as she pivots the light between them. Only second pass before the light vanishes and Peggy's looking at him with a slight smile.

"No concussion. Just another bump and bruise. All that's left to do is bandage that ankle of yours and have you take two of those pills. You won't be good as new right away, but at least it's not as bad as it could've been."

Harry practically snorts, "Yeah, I could've actually broken my bum."

"Well, at least now Lola can baby you while she's here. I'm sure if you whine enough she'll give you lots of kisses. Now sit up a little and pay attention, I can't always be your nurse, you know."

But I would be if you wanted me to.

She shows him which end to start with and makes sure that he's paying attention before she starts to wrap the fabric snugly around his ankle. "Make sure that it's tight, but not too tight or it will cut off circulation and give you more problems. It should feel snug but comfortable. Don't shower with this on and make sure the area is dry before you wrap it again. And don't push it, Harry. You don't need any more problems with your legs and I don't want to see you in the hospital, okay?"

He knows she means well, but he can't miss the opportunity to joke. "You sound like my mum."

Peggy smiles to herself and pats his ankle, "I'm supposed to, it's my job. Regardless, you should call your mum. I think she'd like to hear from you and I know that you miss her. Things are better than you believe they are."

Music starts to float down the hall and Peggy carefully regains her footing, "I think that's my cue. Try to be a little more careful, okay?"

"Okay."

Something is picking at his mind and he can't grasp it firmly enough to figure out what it is. She's already across the room with her hand on the doorknob when his lost thought obnoxiously rattles inside his skull.

"Wait! I made you some cookies earlier and I have a book for you! Was gonna come over later to give them to you and, well...you know how that worked out."

A nearly unnoticeable pink tints her cheeks as she turns around and looks at him with an admiration he hasn't taken notice of before. "You made me cookies?"

Harry nods, "Yeah. They're sugar cookies, but I don't think I made them very well. I picked up a book at one of the shops downtown too, thought you might like it."

Peggy wants to cry. He didn't have to do any of that and she can't remember the last time anyone other than her brother was so nice to her.

"I...thank you. Are they in the kitchen? You really should stay in bed for a few hours at the very least."

Another nod, "The cookies are on the counter and the book is on the table. Does this mean we can't have lessons tonight?"

She disappears around the corner and returns with a plate of cookies and the book he'd gotten her, "You already had your lessons tonight. I'm going to quiz you on concussions and breaks next time. Do you remember how to treat a wound that needs stitches?"

Moments pass before a lightbulb explodes in his mind and a smile lifts his lips. "Clean the area of blood with a warm cloth and then disinfect the wound with alcohol. Sterilize the needle being used before starting the stitches and make sure to leave the area breathable when bandaging. Make sure to tell the patient to clean the wound with warm, soapy water and to change the bandage twice every day. If the stitches get infected, the same thing goes with the soapy water and the bandage, but also rub some ointment on it."

Peggy grins, "Correct. But you did forget to tell the patient to stay off the wounded area as much as possible. A minus. Skim over the chapter about the eye, we'll go over that the next time you come over. Get some rest. Oh, and by the way, I like your haircut."

She leaves him with a feathery kiss to the cheek and a warm smile. As long as they're still friends, she's happy.

Harry doesn't see her at all in the time that it takes Lola to make it to the building and settle into his apartment. Apparently, he was wrong and she wants to stay with him instead of in some fancy hotel.

The idea of living with her for a few days is exciting, but it's also terrifying because he doesn't want his living space to turn her away. Even though she calls him every night, he still doesn't know her as much as he'd like to and certain things pick away at his brain until he's paranoid that she'll leave him.

Fred's cut down on his weekly dalliances and there isn't music drifting down the hall when Lola arrives. She loves the normality of the building and how certain things are out of place in his apartment because he rushed to clean up for her.

It's been a while since she's been in a place like his, and she finds that she misses the simplicity of it all. The moon is already keeping its watchful eye over the city and its inhabitants, but neither the late hour or Harry's injuries stop them from reigniting the raging flame between them.

He's never told her about the night he spent with Peggy and he doesn't plan to. They both agreed to pretend that it never happened and that's what he's going to do. A part of him feels bad about keeping that from Lola, but a bigger part recognizes that they weren't together and that it would ruin any chance he had if he opened his mouth.

Downstairs, the building's furnace is working hard to heat the building and producing a barely noticeable hum. Lola's cuddled into his side, her bare breasts pressed against his chest and her legs slotted between his.

Sex wasn't on his mind at all and he's not entirely sure how they ended up like this. Dinner was a success and he managed to make everything the way it was supposed to be made instead of burnt, and everything after that is one heavenly blur.

Lola certainly initiated it, but he wasn't going to say no. However, he does make sure that the lights are out every time they're intimate. He doesn't want her to see the ugly scar tissue that covers his legs or his bum. It's different with Peggy, but he won't let Lola see him like that.

Church bells chime loudly down the street and announce the hour like it's celebrating the passing of another day. Harry presses a soft kiss to Lola's temple and detangles himself to get out of bed and get dressed.

She's watching him curiously with her elbow pressed into the bed and her head atop her hand. "Going somewhere?"

Harry avoids the light coming in through the window as he pulls on his pants. "Next door for those nursing lessons I was telling you about. Been a while and I was promised a lesson on the eye and how that's relevant to concussions. Did you know that the nurses and the doctors are supposed to ask a ton of questions and shine a flashlight in your eye for that?"

Her smile is bright against the darkness that surrounds her, "I didn't know that. Peggy teaches you, right? Your neighbor?"

Gentle cotton welcomes his shoulders as he pulls on a sweater, "Yes. I know it's a weird hour, but she works all day and I have trouble sleeping sometimes, so it's just become our study schedule. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not! I think it's wonderful how she helps you learn how to be a nurse! Do you think she'd mind if I came too? I'd really like to meet her and thank her for being such a good friend to you."

Harry grabs the textbook from the bedside table, "I don't see why not, but let me ask first. It will give you some time to get dressed." He presses another tender kiss to her cheek, "Be back soon."

There's a faint melody floating through the hall, but it isn't coming from Fred's apartment tonight. Peggy's playing another Patti Page record and he can hear her humming to herself through the door.

A massive smile pulls at his lips. She's bloody awful when she sings the actual words, but her humming could trick anyone into thinking she's brilliant.

His knuckles rasp loudly against the door and a gasp of surprise slips under the door. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he waits for her to realize that it's him. She told him that he doesn't need to knock anymore, but he likes knocking because he feels rude just walking into her apartment.

Seven seconds pass before the door swings open and Peggy greets him with her hair in a messy ponytail and a bright smile. "Oh! You want to do your lessons today? I didn't think you'd want to considering..."

"Actually, I have a question for you. Lola would like to join us for lessons tonight, if that's alright with you. She'd really like to meet you."

Peggy's not sure how to respond. Lessons are usually just the two of them and she likes it that way. Harry coming over at twelve in the morning is normal, but Harry bringing his girlfriend over at twelve in the morning? The thought has her stomach churning.

And she's happy that he's found someone to spend time with that nurtures his heart—she is—but she's jealous and a little upset that he didn't notice how she was doing that first. It couldn't hurt to meet her, though. She can tell how much this means to him from the size of his eyes and the nervous smile he's trying to hide.

"I don't see why not. I'll just have to pull another teacup from the cabinet. Does she like tea?"

Harry's lips part and he's at a loss for words. The question is simple and it's something that he should know about his girlfriend, but he has no idea. Blood rushes to his cheeks as he tries not to bite them out of nervous habit.

"I don't know."

Peggy pretends that she doesn't notice the soft nature to his voice or the tint in his cheeks. "I'll get a cup out just in case."

He leaves with a muttered thank you and returns three minutes later with Lola at his side and holding his hand. Peggy already knew that he was dating the Lola Simmons, but seeing her standing outside of her door still stuns her a little bit.

Lola notices the slight wideness to her eyes and offers an easy smile, "You must be Peggy, it's so nice to finally put a face to the name! Harry tells me all about your lessons and what a great friend you are. I'm Lola."

Despite her appearance, she's rather charming and Peggy's slightly irritated because it's hard not to like her already.

"Yes, that would be me! It's so lovely to meet you as well! He never shuts up about you, you know."

Sometimes they can't even finish a lesson because he'll remember something that she said over the phone and go on about it for hours. Most of the time, he doesn't even pause for a breath between long winded sentences.

A light blush rushes to her cheeks and she unconsciously takes a step closer to him. Peggy invites them in and soon they're sitting around the table, drinking tea and pouring over her old textbooks.

"What does the cornea do?"

Harry's hands cover his face as he thinks. He knows this, but the words are escaping him. Lola's hiding her smile with her hands and Peggy's trying not to laugh because they just went over this two minutes prior.

The cookies that he made for her the day before are sitting in the center of the table, practically untouched because all three had collectively decided they were the worst cookies they had ever tasted.

"It...bends light as it enters the eye. Right? Or is that the iris?"

Lola doesn't know much about this stuff, but she does remember that the iris is the colored part of the eye that controls how much light enters the eye.

"The iris is colored and controls light, it doesn't bend it."

Peggy laughs and nearly chokes on her tea. She certainly wasn't expecting Lola to be paying any attention and she's thoroughly impressed.

"Your first answer was correct. Lola's correction was also spot on. Two more questions and we can call it a night. What's the optic nerve?"

This one he knows right away, "A bundle of sens...sensory neurons at the back of the eye."

He's so happy that Lola can't help but to kiss his cheek. Peggy does her best to ignore the gesture.

"A plus. Last question, what do you look for in the retinas of someone with a head injury?"

Harry laughs and unconsciously reaches for the knot on the back of his head, "If their pupils retract and are the same size. If they don't and aren't the same size, there's a problem."

Peggy grins and asks another question just for fun, "And do you have a concussion?"

A proud grin spreads across his lips and he chirps happily, "No, I do not!"

Lola doesn't really know what they're talking about because he only told her he had an accident the other day, but she doesn't question it because Harry's happy and he's so lovely when he's happy.

"Congratulations, you've earned another A plus mark! Earn two more and I'll make you cookies that don't taste like rocks."

Harry playfully rolls his eyes, "Hey, at least I tried."

Everyone closes textbooks and Peggy starts to take their empty dishes to the sink. She'll get them in the morning.

The Patti Page record is still playing at a soft volume and Lola's discussing something with Harry that she can't quite make out. Once she's settled the dishes in the sink, she makes her way back to the table to find the two of them looking at her sheepishly, like they've planned something and just decided to tell her.

Lola's slightly rocking back on her heels and she nudges Harry to speak so she doesn't have to.

Harry flushes slightly and stumbles over his words, "I...well...we're going on a cinema date tomorrow and I may have set you up with a friend of mine. Lola thought a double date would be cute and he's really nice, you'll like him. But you don't have to come if you're busy or don't want to. We just thought it would be nice."

Peggy blinks and stares at Harry for a long moment. She knows this was more his idea than it was hers and she's not sure how she feels about it. A part of her hates that he's set this up without asking, and another part loves it because he was thinking about her and he's trying to make sure that she's happy too.

"I...Harry, I haven't been out in ages and I don't...I'm still trying to get over someone."

Lola brightens up a little, "Even more reason to come! Oh, please come. It will be so fun and Tommy's incredibly nice and handsome. He reads a lot too. If anything, at least come for the film. I've heard it's well worth seeing and I'm taking care of all the expenses. We'd really love you to come."

The argument is incredibly convincing and, really, what would it hurt to try and get over her silly crush on her neighbor? It's been ages since she's gone on a date with anyone and it would be nice to put herself out there again.

But there's one question she's compelled to ask. "Is he one of your war buddies?"

Harry bites his lip nervously. He knew she would ask, but he was hoping she'd ask later when Lola wasn't there to hear her.

Peggy watches his eyes soften and his tongue poke out to wet his lips. "Yes, he was with me at Dunkirk."

Lola's gone silent and she won't look at him anymore.

"What time should I be ready by?"

Suddenly a spark has gone off and Lola's animated again. "Five! We're going to head to dinner first, if that's alright with you! And you don't have to wear anything fancy."

A weak smile tugs at her lips, "Sure. Have a good night."

Harry mumbles something to Lola and she kisses his cheek before heading back across the hall. Peggy watches as she disappears before she asks another question that she couldn't ask while she was there.

"Does he get them too?"

"I'm not sure. He doesn't like to talk about it. He's really nice Peggy, and you know I wouldn't set you up with someone you wouldn't like."

He still doesn't understand her feelings and she tries her best to pretend like she's alright—that she hasn't been up late at night because of how awful she feels for letting him take advantage of her feelings and use her.

"I know. Get some sleep, Harry."

There are so many things running through her mind and all of them pertain to him. Peggy remains silent and offers him a soft smile as he walks through the door and bids her goodnight.

Goodnight doesn't make much of a difference and she's up all night thinking about how their double date will go and if she'll be able to get over him. She's liked him for a while and when they slept together a month and a half ago those feelings only grew stronger. He used her, she knows that, but she can't exactly help what her heart wants.

Hours fade away quickly and the sun rises and sets in the blink of an eye. Sleep evaded her for most of the night, but Harry and Lola slept like hibernating bears. Five o'clock comes rapidly and Peggy's nervous as she sits in her living room and reads the book Harry bought for her.

She can't remember the last time she's been out on a date—or a double date for that matter—and she's incredibly nervous because she's never even met his friend. Does not fancy mean casual or slightly fancy? Is her skirt alright? Should she have put her hair up?

Two timid knocks interrupt her anxious thoughts and she nearly drops her book. Peggy takes a deep breath and marks her page before answering the door.

Dirty blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes greet her. "Hi, I'm Tommy. Or Tom, whichever you prefer. Sorry I'm a little early, I like to build in some time just in case."

Bright flowers match his luminous smile and Peggy beams as she asks, "What would you like to be called?"

If it's even possible, his eyes light up even more. "Tom. Tommy makes me feel like a kid, don't know why my mum thought it was a good idea. Do you just go by Peggy, or is it short for something?"

Peggy laughs, "What would it be short for?"

Embarrassed laughter follows, "No idea. Sorry, I'm really nervous. It's been a while since I've been out with anyone."

She steps away from the door and lets him in with flushed cheeks, "Me either. Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love some."

Tom is much better than Peggy anticipated and she already likes him a lot by the time they leave her apartment to meet Harry and Lola for dinner. It was Harry's idea to set her up in the first place, but he keeps giving them looks every now and again like he's jealous.

And he is. Harry doesn't know why he's jealous, but he is. He set this up and he's jealous that another man is making her smile and laugh so much. Lola's practically glued to him and he's still thinking about how his lessons won't be as long or as frequent.

The movie takes his mind off of Peggy and her new romance, but the thought is still in the back of his mind. Lola's giving him subtle hints that she wants to have sex when they get back and he's not sure that he wants to now that he knows he doesn't know as much about her as he thought he did.

Peggy hardly even says goodnight to him as they part in the middle of the hall and Tommy walks her to his door. Harry lingers for a few moments to see what happens, and there's a sinking feeling in his chest as he watches Tommy lean in for a kiss.

"Can I see you again?"

He doesn't think he's ever seen Peggy smile so bright. "Definitely."

The night passes quickly and Lola's gone a few days later. Harry doesn't see much of Peggy for a few weeks and he's upset because he's learned a lot and he'd like to show her, but she's always out with Tommy.

She's been taking a few late night shifts at the hospital so she'll have some afternoons for dates, but tonight she's off and Harry's waiting patiently for her to come home. He bought some tea for her and he's hoping to talk to her about different types of trauma.

Four hours pass before he sees her and he finished the book she lent him four days ago two hours prior. Peggy walks into the building with her head down and her coat tightly wrapped around her. He calls her name but she doesn't seem to hear him as she brushes past him and pulls out her keys.

Since the first time didn't work, he tries again, this time gently reaching for her arm to ensure that he captures her attention.

As soon as his fingers touch her arm, she jumps and drops her keys. Confusion blankets his features as she bends down to retrieve the fallen pieces of metal. She still won't look at him and he wants to know why she jumped and why she won't let him see her face.

"Peggy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Harry, we can have lessons tomorrow. I'm sorry about the recent lack of them, but I can't tonight."

He catches a glimpse of her face as she turns toward the door and his blood runs cold. It's hard to tell, but he's almost certain there's a dark bruise forming around her right eye and he knows that she didn't do that to herself.

Without any warming, he spins her around to get a better look. She doesn't have much of a choice to face him now and tears are already rolling down her cheeks.

"Please don't say anything."

Fire ignites his veins and he's almost certain that steam is coming out of his ears. "Did Tommy do this?"

Peggy doesn't answer and her silence confirms that it was.

"I'm gonna kill him."

She reaches for his arm like a lifeline, eyes wide and lips trembling. "No!"

His blood was already boiling, but her quick defense has him enraged. "What do you mean 'no?' He fucking hit you, Peggy!"

Warm tears fall to the floor in small puddles. Silence consumes the air around them. Peggy can't breathe.

"How long has this been going on?"

No answer.

"How long."

"Please stop."

Since she won't answer, he takes matters into his own hands. "Fine. I'll go have a chat with him myself."

"He's like you! Damn it, he's like you!"

Harry stops dead in his tracks and she continues, "The war still has his mind and he can't help it so he drinks. I'm trying to help him. Please don't go."

"That's not a proper excuse to hit you, or any woman for that matter."

Neighbors poke their heads out to see what's going on, but neither of them are paying attention. Harry storms down the hall and Peggy trails after him, pulling on his coat and begging him to just leave it alone.

It doesn't seem to matter and they're standing outside of Tommy's apartment in a matter of minutes. Peggy's still crying and Harry's practically glowing with anger. Tommy takes a while to answer the door because he's been drinking, but as soon as he does Harry swings and sends him spiraling into the snow.

Tommy's pissed and tries to fight back, but Harry's angry and sober and it makes little difference.

Peggy turns away and sings under her breath—a feeble attempt to drown out the sounds behind her. Minutes pass like centuries. By the time Harry's finished, her tears have stopped and everything has started to feel numb.

She's silent for the entire walk home. Harry doesn't attempt conversation until they're standing in front of her front door.

"I'm sorry."

Again, he doesn't receive an answer.

"Peggy..."

She won't look at him, "Please, just go. Go before I do something selfish and stupid."

He doesn't make her ask again and disappears behind his door. Tommy wasn't ever like that and he just doesn't understand how he turned out like that. Sure, the war was awful, but it isn't an excuse to hit women.

Horrible thoughts keep him up and torment his mind. Peggy's alone and heartbroken and probably crying and it's his fault. He's the one that set her up with Tommy when he knew that he might be plagued with the same thing.

The moon is slowly receding and being replaced by the sun when he steps into the hall and makes his way to Peggy's door. It's locked and he doesn't have to check because he heard her lock it when he left.

She keeps a spare above the door just in case he ever needs to get away or borrow a book when she isn't there and now is the perfect time to use it.

Everyone's asleep and he's as silent as possible while he fumbles with the lock and steps inside. The curtains are drawn tightly together and there are empty teacups and open books strewn about the table. Harry's heart hurts for her.

Quiet sobs sneak past the bedroom door and his feet carry him faster. He knows that he upset her by pummeling her boyfriend, but there was no way he could let it go. It's his fault for introducing them and the thought is already spreading like poison.

Slivers of moonlight peek through the curtains and bathe the room in enough soft light for him to enter the room without tripping over everything. Peggy hates sleeping in complete darkness and he's thankful for that tonight because it makes comforting her a little easier.

Harry climbs into bed beside her and makes sure he's near the middle of the bed so she can feel the heat that radiates from his body and know that he's there.

Peggy wipes her eyes and turns on her side to cuddle him and burry her face in his neck. "I really liked him, Harry."

He kisses her forehead and holds her a little closer, "I know. And Peggy?"

"Hmm?"

"It's not stupid."