Soft music floats down the hall as Harry's fingers fumble with his tie. He's been trying to knot it the proper way for ten minutes now and it's not working out for him. Peggy's home, but he doesn't want to bother her just to help him with his tie. And, well, it would also make him look pretty bad because he's twenty-five and he doesn't know how to properly knot his tie.

He knows that she won't judge him for it, but it's still embarrassing. Peggy knows that his hands sometimes shake a little too much for no reason at all and that he can't always focus like he wants to, but he still doesn't want to have to ask her for help because it's another blow to his dignity.

Tonight doesn't have to be super fancy, but he wants it to be because he wants to impress Lola in hopes that she'll return for a second date. He really likes her already and he's hoping that she'll give him the opportunity to love her because he's got a heart that's aching to love someone and to be loved in return.

Love is something that never leaves his mind. Harry's constantly craving the affection of a woman and it bothers him because he should be married with a kid right now. He thought Eleanor was it, but when she left him, he realized that he's never been more wrong in his life. She was never right for him, but he loved her all the same and it took him a little over a year to get over her after she left.

This time he wants to find someone who loves him unconditionally, even with his damaged legs and fucked up mind, and he hopes that maybe it's Lola because he's tired of this. He's tired of living alone and coming home to an empty apartment, tired of spending holidays alone, and tired of the empty feeling in his chest. Tonight, he's going to do try and do something about it instead of just waiting for someone to walk into his life.

Waiting around has gotten him nowhere and tonight things are going to change, even if Lola decides that she doesn't particularly like him in the way that he's hoping she will.

But, in order to do that, he's got to get his damn tie on the proper way and it's painfully obvious that he can't do it himself. With a heavy sigh, Harry shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair before deciding to ask Peggy for help.

He doesn't recognize that the soft music isn't coming from Fred's door until Peggy's standing in front of him with her hair falling out of her bun and into her face. She's surprised to see him and welcomes him with a smile.

"Wasn't expecting you until later. Everything alright?"

The music is a little louder now and he smiles a little because he didn't know that she enjoyed listening to this type of music. Peggy's got a Patti Page record playing and the window open to let in the cold winter air. She's got on a nice gray sweater and a black skirt that falls to her ankles.

Once again, it's strange for Harry to see her in normal attire because he's so used to seeing her in the middle of the night in clothes that aren't ever meant to be worn in public. Even though her hair isn't to the typical standard of neatness, she looks really nice.

He doesn't remember what he's come over for because he's still surprised to see her in everyday clothes.

Peggy shifts on her feet and slightly rolls her lips in for a moment. She nods to the tie in his right hand to refocus his train of thought. Harry follows her nod and frowns.

"Oh, right. I seem to be having some trouble knotting my tie and I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to help me?"

A soft laugh passes her lips as she steps forward and retrieves the tie from his hand. "Of course. Can't have you looking like a closet case for your date."

Harry laughs as she threads the tie through his collar and checks the lengths of each side before she starts to knot it. "That's exactly what I was thinking."

Peggy smiles as she settles his tie into place, "Might I ask who taught you how to knot a tie?"

Harry beams as she smooths his jacket and takes a step back, "Taught myself because my sister always made fun of me. Hands were shaking too much today and the knot wouldn't come out the proper way."

Even though she doesn't particularly enjoy knowing that he's going on a date, she's glad to see him so happy.

"Nervous?"

He runs his hand through his hair, "A little, yeah. It's been a while since I've been on one of these. Do I look alright?"

Peggy thinks that he looks more than alright. There's a new brightness to his eyes and a constant lift to the edges of his lips, and that suit...God, that suit. Sure, he's in need of a serious haircut, but it looks pretty damn good on him despite the what the constructs of society say is proper.

She offers him another smile, "You look right smashing."

A light blush rises to his cheeks and his smile grows, "You really think so?"

She wants to tell him that he's an idiot because of course she thinks he's attractive. She's always thought that he was attractive, even when she saw the scars on his legs and heard him scream in the middle of the night.

But he still doesn't notice and she doesn't have the courage to deliberately tell him that she fancies him: hard.

"If you wanted me to lie to you, all you had to do is say so."

Harry laughs and shakes his head, "Definitely not. Thank you, Peggy. You look beautiful yourself."

He's said it partly because she does and partly out of kindness. Peggy knows that he's only being nice because she's just complimented him, but it still makes the blush rise in her cheeks.

She knows that she isn't wearing anything special and that she isn't exactly the prettiest woman alive, but it's nice of him to say.

"Thank you."

It's a little awkward for a moment as they both stand in her doorway and try to think of something to say as a parting note. Harry wants to ask her if there's anything that he shouldn't do-shouldn't say, really-but he doesn't want to take up more of her free time than he already does.

Peggy clears her throat slightly and the corners of her lips lift into a shy smile, "Well, I'll let you go. Wouldn't want you to be late for your date."

Harry blinks twice because he's forgotten about his date for a few moments. He really likes talking to Peggy and it's a little difficult to reign his thoughts in sometimes because he's not used to having someone to talk to and he always wants to talk about everything at once.

"Right. Thanks again, Peggy. I'll tell you all about it when I get back, yeah?"

She smiles even though she knows that he probably won't remember and that there's a high likelihood that he won't even come home tonight. He's got a chance of a lifetime and she knows that he'll take the opportunity if it presents itself.

Harry hasn't been handed a lot of good things in the recent years and she knows that he wants something nice just this once, even when he has something just as nice right in front of him. Peggy doesn't blame him for that, it's only natural to want better things, especially if the said better things have the probability of healing what the individual can't heal.

"I'll make sure the tea's still warm."

He offers her another smile before mumbling another thank you and heading back to his apartment a few steps down the hall. Peggy smiles in return, but it's a weak smile and it disappears as soon as she shuts the door.

It shouldn't bother her that they're just friends. After all, it's better than nothing, but she can't help the slight pain in her chest. He doesn't seem to notice how much she likes him and it bothers her, but she still can't gather the courage to tell him.

At least she has him as a friend. If nothing else, she can still have his company and that's alright too.

Harry's hands shake a little as he dabs a spot of cologne on his wrist and spreads it so that he smells a lot nicer than he would without it. He won't look in the mirror though. That's something that he hasn't done since he was in the hospital recovering from the landmine he'd stepped on.

There's a sheet over the mirror in the bathroom and his fingers are reaching for it without much thought. He hasn't seen his face in a mirror for so long and he's almost afraid to because of what happened the last time. Sure, he shaves his face often, but he won't look unless he misses a spot and he always looks in the reflection of a spoon or something of the sort. It's not the best remedy, but it works for him.

Five seconds pass and the sheet falls to reveal a stainless mirror, untouched by grimy hands or dust particles. Green eyes meet in the reflective surface and for a moment he doesn't recognize himself.

His hair that was once short and cropped close to his skull is now a long, curly mess that nearly reaches his shoulders. And his eyes...he remembered them as much brighter and now they look rather dull in comparison. There's still a haunted quality to them even now as he's bubbling with anxiety and excitement for his date.

Harry's not looking at himself for very long before the memories start flooding back.

A white flash. Three seconds of numbness followed by excruciating pain, Light floods through his eyelids and he winces. He's got no idea where he is. The last thing he remembers is the look on Craig's face as he begged him to save his life.

Someone's talking to him but he can't focus because there's too much pain in his head. Everything feels foreign and he's not entirely sure if he's dead or alive. It's too bright.

Harry feels like his head is stuffed with cotton. He can hear them calling his name now, asking him if he can hear them and if he can see them. Weakly, he nods. There's not enough moisture in his mouth to generate a proper response.

Nurses start to poke him with things and write things down. He can feel them poking and pulling at his toes and his legs and he wiggles his fingers and toes when they ask him too, but it still feels like he's not really there.

A nurse brings him some water and he drinks it greedily, as if he's been stranded in the desert and without water for a week. He manages to ask for more and someone brings back a pitcher so they won't have to keep leaving the room.

Once they're done running tests on him and he's had enough water, Harry asks how long he's been out and how he's managed to keep his legs. The doctor hesitates with his answer. He's not sure if Harry can handle the news so soon, but he knows that he needs to hear it eventually.

Silence fills the room and Harry's getting angry, wrapping the sheets around his hands and tugging hard to control his temper because his mother's told him that he's rather frightening when he's angry.

"How long have I been asleep?"

The doctor sighs and decides that it's not worth the argument, "Nearly a month. You were comatose until eight this morning. In answer to your previous question pertaining to your legs, there was enough salvageable tissue and the nerves weren't dead when your comrade brought you to the medical tent. We had to pull from some other areas and some functions have...changed, but your legs will still operate as they normally would after you go through some physical therapy."

He's silent for a long time and eventually the doctor leaves. Time passes like an eternity until they allow him to get out of the bed, but he's only allowed to walk to the bathroom and back to the bed.

It's absolutely excruciating to put his weight on his legs and force them to move forward, but he grits his teeth and makes it happen because he needs to see what he looks like, needs to see the aftermath and how he's going to look for the rest of his life.

So far, he's refused to look at his legs. But he needs to face it today if he's ever going to be able to accept what's happened to him. He knows that he probably won't ever truly accept the condition of his body, but there isn't anything he can do to change it.

Two female nurses are watching him and making sure that he doesn't fall. He wishes that they'd at least turn around for a second, so that he'd feel less like a child and more like a patient who's trying to get better.

One look. Harry takes one look in the mirror and immediately wishes that he hadn't. He looks like something straight out of a horror film. There are healing cuts all over his face from where the shrapnel tore his skin, he's missing good portions of hair, and it looks like they couldn't wash enough dirt from his face. He looks tired and worn and awful and he hates it, not because he's vain, but because he knows that people won't look at him like everyone else anymore because the first thing that they'll see are the faint scars sprinkled all over his face.

What he saw in his face was already bad and he's absolutely terrified to look at his legs. Slowly and painfully, he takes those few steps over to the toilet so he can sit and actually see his legs instead of bending over and risking hurting himself even more.

He hates the stupid gown that they're making him wear, but now it's actually a little useful because it makes it much easier to see his legs instead of having to deal with a pair of pants. The nurses wear sad smiles as they let him be.

Five minutes pass before he gathers the courage to lift up the stupid gown and see the damage. As soon as he looks he wants to cry. He's never been a fan of crying because that's just how he was raised, but he can't help it as he looks at his mangled legs. He doesn't even want to know about the rest even though they've already told him.

Harry knew the war was going to be hell, but he never knew it would be like this.

The soft sheet falls atop his feet and snap him out of his memory. Harry shakes his head and runs his right hand through his hair as he fights to calm his breathing. Everything is alright, his legs still work and everything still functions as it should. Lola won't see them anyway, so it doesn't matter.

He checks his watch and sighs because he's probably going to be a few minutes late if he doesn't rush to get to Lola's hotel. Keeping up a fast pace hurts his legs almost as soon as he makes it outside of his apartment complex, but he tries his best to ignore the pain so he'll pick Lola up on time.

There's a light snowfall halfway through his speedy walk to a hotel that's three blocks away. Whispered curses fall from his lips as the cold white particles stick to his hair and his coat. As soon as he steps inside he's going to be drenched and it won't matter how much time he spent preparing so that he'd look decent.

Perhaps he'll just leave his coat with the doorman and save himself some trouble. It won't look too great on his end, but it's better than getting soaked and being uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

By the time he makes it to the Claridge's, the night is alive with headlights, clouds of smoke, and laughter. His coat plan works out pretty well even though the doorman doesn't seem too happy with him, and he's called for Lola already.

She takes a minute or two to come down in the lift, but Harry doesn't mind at all because she came down and she looks absolutely radiant. He greets her with a compliment and a kiss to the cheek and they're in a cab that's headed toward the restaurant in no time at all.

During the cab ride, he asks her all about her life in America and what it's like to travel back and forth like she does. He's always wanted to travel, but it hasn't been safe when he wants to and the only travel he's done wasn't voluntary and it was part of the war.

Listening is easy because he likes the way that her lips move to form the words and the way that her voice sounds when she speaks. She's got a way with words, although he's heard and read better from Peggy and the novels that she lends him during the night.

Lola doesn't ask him much in return because she wants to have something to talk about during dinner and she's trying to figure out talking points in her head. It's easy to talk to someone that clicks with her, but he doesn't click that well even though he's trying and he's certainly very handsome.

She likes him because he's sweet and she's more than willing to give him a chance because she's had men change her mind after the first date, but she's not entirely sure that things are going to work out between them.

It'd be nice if they did, but she can tell that he's got a lot of damage to take on just by looking at the little scars on his face and the look in his eyes. Lola can take a lot of things, but she's not sure what he's been through and if she can handle it herself.

Harry takes her to a nice restaurant on the other side of town where there is warm lighting and a high end dress code. He knows that he's spending a lot on her, but he really wants to try his best this time around, even if he's just wasting his breath.

The host seats them near the center of the restaurant and leaves them with two menus. Lola's not from England so she's not aware of the terminology for nearly all of the dishes and Harry's smiling from ear to ear as he explains them to her.

She ends up ordering what he recommends and he orders the cheapest thing he can find because he likes everything and it'll save him some stress later.

Harry's got his elbows on the table as he leans forward to hear her better over all the chatter. She's finally started asking him questions about himself and he's happy to answer because she hasn't accidentally touched on any of the bad things yet.

Astoundingly, nothing's triggered him since he left his apartment and he feels great. Maybe it's Lola or maybe it's the journal he's started keeping, he's not sure, but he's happy to equate the change to Lola.

"I've been trying not to ask this all evening, but I can't help myself. Is there a reason that you don't cut your hair? Trust me, it certainly looks good on you, but I'm incredibly curious."

His smile falls considerably at the mention of his hair. It's gotten rather long and today was the first day where he really noticed the difference. Society was fine with a certain hair length, and now it's much more acceptable to have hair that isn't shaved or cropped short, but his hair was much longer than that and a good number of people don't necessarily like that.

"Well...that's a long story. The short version is that I was drafted for the second war and I stepped on a landmine. After I recovered some and saw myself in the mirror, I couldn't handle living with a haircut that reminded me of the war and the awful things that it did. So, I haven't cut it since."

She doesn't say anything right away and he adds, "I hope that doesn't sound really strange. It's just that...I've seen some horrible things and it's a small way to keep those things out of my mind, if that makes any sense at all."

He's rambling now and she thinks that it's awfully cute. Lola really likes how he's chosen to stick with something that helps him live better even if people look down on him for it.

"Perfect sense, actually. I didn't know you were in the war, if I say anything insensitive, please tell me. Nothing is worse than accidentally offending someone, especially when on a date."

Despite how his mind is running in circles, dancing around memories of smoke and blood and in between thoughts of love and lust, Harry's rather content at the moment, even if he's thinking about sinful things.

He's certainly not in love with Lola by any means, but they've been drinking a lot and he's been wanting for so long that it's hard not to think about physical aspects of a woman. And it certainly doesn't help that she's got on red lipstick that he can't keep his eyes off of.

Harry's not usually so drawn to the physical attributes of a woman. He really likes to get to know who they are out of work and what goes on in their minds because he knows that there's far more to a woman than just a pretty face. It's always been that way for him, even before he had some damage of his own, and he still enjoys getting to know the heart and mind of a woman better than getting to know a body of a woman because physical things will always change and the real love is inside.

Tonight he's feeling a little different though. Usually, he drinks a lot more to clear his head-which never really seems to work, but he keeps at it anyway because it gives him something to do-but tonight he hasn't had too much and he's craving the physicality of a relationship more than he's longing to know who she is on the inside.

Lola asks him more questions about himself and by the time she's run out of things to ask, they're both pretty smashed and laughing at just about everything. Somehow, Harry manages to call another cab and stumble inside after Lola does, without of course collapsing or falling over.

He likes the feeling of being drunk because it takes away the pain in his legs for a while and sometimes it keeps the memories away for the night. It's not a good thing-and he knows that-but it's something that's become a bit of a habit and he's not sure if he'll ever be able to stop.

The cab rolls to a stop and Lola practically flings herself out of the car, reaching for Harry's hand and pulling him along without any explanation at all. Laughter floats around them as they stumble through the hotel lobby and into the lift. It's late and mostly everyone is in bed at the hour, but there are a few people who are awake and they don't make a single move to disguise the disapproving looks they cast upon the two drunken strangers.

Neither Lola or Harry are paying attention though, they're too busy laughing and trying to keep themselves from falling over. Harry's not really thinking like he should anymore, and they're nearly to Lola's floor when he leans in and hastily presses his lips to hers.

The need for a woman's physical touch has finally overwhelmed him and, in his drunken state, he doesn't quite mind just going for it and seeing what happens. If he was sober, things would be much different, but he's not it's too late to take it back now.

For a long few seconds, Lola doesn't move a muscle. She knew that he would kiss her eventually, but she still wasn't expecting it and she certainly wasn't expecting to like it as much as she does. Harry's dismayed at her lack of response and starts to pull away, but she's quick to regain her senses and pull him back in for more.

She's just as needy as he is and part of that has to do with the alcohol, and part of it has to do with the fact that she hasn't had a lover in a little over three months and she's missing that companionship.

A simple kiss turns into passionate kisses just as the lift dings to signal they've reached their floor. Lola laughs and breaks their contact as she takes his hand and stumbles into the empty hallway. She wants this just as much as he does and it's not like they're going to fall in love after they sleep with each other. One night of passion doesn't change things that quickly. Nothing does, really.

Harry follows her without question even though he knows that there's something he's forgetting. He has to do something tonight and he can't remember what it is. It's also not helping that Lola's encouraging him to go further, his mind clouding with lust instead of rational thoughts.

Everything happens so quickly. Lola pulls him into her room and kisses him hard as soon as she's closed and locked the door. He's lost all train of thought and all he's thinking about is Lola, Lola, Lola.

She's got the softest pair of lips he's ever kissed and he's in no mood to stop any time soon. Lola's got her hands in his hair and she's pressing herself closer to him with every passing second, like she'll die the moment they part.

His hands are on her waist, fingertips pressing into her skin as he complies to her want of proximity. Lola kisses him with more pressure and his hands find her backside as he mumbles for her to jump. She does as he asks and they're on the bed in a few moments, hastily pulling at each others clothing and kissing like tonight is the last night of their lives.

Lola's been here many times before, and Harry doesn't even get to ask if she's sure about this before she's got him on his back as she slides down the bed to sit between his legs. He's seconds away from telling her not to because he wants it to be about her, but she doesn't give him the chance to even mutter a syllable before her lips are wrapped around him and gentle moans start to pass through his parted lips.

His hands tangle in her hair and tug gently as she continues to bob her head and hum occasionally as she meets his eyes. Harry's not even sure how he's managing to keep his eyes open at this point, but he's damn glad that he can.

Lola's kind enough to let him finish before she withdrawals and he's far more invested now than he was ten minutes ago. He's got her under him with his mouth on her center before she catches her breath. Lola raises her hips in eagerness as a string of whispered curses falls from her lips. Harry gives in to her wants and adds his fingers to the mix because she took care of him when she didn't have to.

A number of torturous minutes filled with moans and silent curses pass before she's finally reached her peak. Although he enjoyed savoring the taste of her very much, Harry's relieved because the pressure in his lower region has returned and he's aching to fill her and hear her say his name as his hips smack into hers.

He allows her a few moments to catch her breath and come down from the clouds, peppering her skin with kisses and rutting against her to urge her along. Lola pulls him in for a few deep kisses before she makes him take a step back so she can find a condom.

Harry's not very patient with her and sponges her neck with kisses as she looks in one of the drawers on the bedside table. She finds one rather quickly and rolls it on for him hurriedly because she wants to feel the overwhelming excitement of her body again.

Now he takes things a little slower for her because he's not sure what she's used to or when the last time she'd done this was. Lola doesn't agree with his slow pace though and urges him further, lifting her hips to meet his so that he's fully immersed in her.

A gentle sigh passes her lips as she adjusts to him. He's bigger than what she's used to and it's a little painful on her end. Harry starts kissing her neck and Lola relaxes, telling him that it's alright to move and swiveling her hips a bit to encourage him.

He's just as impatient as she is at this point and it's not long before his hips are slamming against hers, fingertips digging into her hips and likely leaving bruises in their wake. Lola's an absolute mess beneath him. There's so much pleasure coursing through her body and she can't stay still for more than two seconds. His name passes her lips every now and again and pitchy moans fill the room when he shifts a little to the left and reaches a spot that no one's ever touched before.

Lola's legs tighten around his waist and pull him impossibly closer, her nails tearing the skin on his back as she clings to him and practically screams his name as she comes undone beneath him. Harry's not far behind and the precision of his thrusts vanishes as he pushes her to her limits and reaches his own high.

As soon as he's done, he starts to feel the strain on his muscles and the pain in his legs. Harry nuzzles his face in her neck and carefully lowers himself over her before he pulls out and rests beside her for a moment.

Lola's quiet until he gets up to discard the used condom. She likes the view he's given her and she thinks that his butt is rather cute. It's too dark for her to really see any of his scars and he's incredibly thankful for that as he settles back into the bed and she cuddles into his side.

She's tired and ends up falling asleep after only a few moments, but he's regained some clarity and something's bothering him still. He lies awake for thirty minutes before it finally hits him.

Peggy. He told her that he'd come over to talk after his date and she's probably been waiting for him for hours. There's nothing he can do now, it's far too late to even call a cab and he's exhausted himself, but he feels rather terrible for not keeping his word.

Eventually, he ends up drifting off and catching a nice dream, but, back in her apartment, Peggy stares at a cold cup of tea and doesn't sleep. She should've expected that he wouldn't actually come over after his date, but he told her that he would and she waited for him for hours with the hope that maybe she did mean something to him.

The dull pain in her chest is enough to keep her up all night and she wishes that she didn't feel this way about him. He's going to hurt her and she knows it, but she can't help that her heart's been pulled to him since the day he moved in down the hall.

Maybe someday he'll notice her as more than a friend. Maybe someday she won't fancy him anymore. Maybe, just maybe, things will work out between them in the end. For now, all she can do is wait.