America's Sweetheart (Steve Rogers) - 1

1

1943

Mo Carter woke with a start, the sheen of perspiration on her forehead now being wiped with the back of her hand. Her heart was racing. It was the same dream – or rather nightmare – every night. It was always Michael. Always him who she watched die first-hand. He'd been killed in action just a year prior and had been her number one advocate when she'd joined the Air Transport Auxiliary. Her parents had thought otherwise, not wanting their daughter (who acted like anything but the lady she was meant to) to waste herself on the war effort when she could be married to a nice young man and keeping house. That was the real nightmare for her.

Harrison and Amanda Carter had tried to raise their daughters to be respectable young ladies, sending them to the best all-girls school to receive a high standard of education. Peggy had been a little calmer, but being the youngest, Mo, whose real name was Elizabeth (and boy did she hate it), had been the one who wanted attention growing up. She'd even gone as far as to hang the headmistresses knickers from the schools flag pole – an act that her classmates had hailed her for, but one of which she'd been reprimanded by both her parents and seething headmistress. In the eyes of her parents, Mo was nothing like Peggy and Michael, and they spent most of their time trying to mould her into the perfect lady who she would never become.

"I truly have no idea why on earth you want to do something that will not gain you any favours when it comes to meeting a man." Amanda had fanned herself as her daughter had delivered the news about joining the war effort. "Surely you could do your bit another way?"

Mo had stood there like a schoolgirl being scolded – something she'd been used to. "I am doing my bit. These planes won't deliver themselves, fix themselves..."

"The men should be the ones flying, us women should be keeping out feet on the ground."

"I would be a waste in an ammunitions factory, as an air raid marshal..."

"Then for heavens sake become a nurse!" Amanda snapped. "My goodness Lizzie when will you learn to be a lady?"

Mo rolled her eyes. "I told you not to call me Lizzie."

"We gave you that name, so we shall darn well call you that!"

Michael, who had been silently watching the drama unfold whilst smoking a cigarette now stepped in. "Mother...Mo isn't like any other girl; we all know that. The men in the RAF stand no chance when it comes to her." He grinned. "Her tests for the force were off the charts, she's handy with a spanner, my goodness if you saw her take that plane up..."

"I want to see her married and settled. Not being bombed out of the sky!" Amanda rubbed her temples. "At least Peggy was able to secure something a little more, respectable."

"Yes, but our Peg is good with numbers, always has been. Believe it or not mother, we need more women to do their bit, and Mo's doing just that. This war is already going south in some respects, and we will need all the help we can get."

Her brother had been the real hero, not just during the battle that was currently raging across Europe but at home too. Her parents had reluctantly let her go, but had refused to support her in any way. It had been Michael who had put her and Peggy's names forward for the SSR before he'd died. Peggy had originally refused – having been engaged at the time, but that had all changed and now they both found themselves across the pond in a small cabin on an army base.

American men were a far different cut to British ones. She'd found that out quickly. They were cocky for one thing, and the comments she and Peggy had received on their arrival had only made her determined to prove to them that she wasn't one to be messed with.