RUSTED

one

1940, July.

It was a lovely tombstone, really. 

'Captain Michael J. Carter

1914- 1940

loving older brother, son, and soldier' 

Underneath the writing, in smaller, finer print, was a line of prayers their mother had insisted on having carved into the stone as well. The dirt was still fresh and raised, covered in rows of flowers and other offerings people had left as they departed the cemetery. 

Zachary stared numbly as he sat in front of the flowers. His dress pants were no doubt covered in dirt and grass, but he couldn't care about the state of his suit at the moment. He was certain that if he were to stand right now his legs wouldn't be able to hold him up. A hand was placed gently on his shoulder and although he turned to glare at who it belonged to, he wasn't sure how much heat it held with his red rimmed and tear swollen eyes. 

Peggy stood over him in a similar state and glanced at the tombstone one last time before gently brushing some of Zachary's hair from his face. 

"Let's go Zach," She reached up with a gloved hand to elegantly wipe at her nose with a handkerchief and sniffled.

She doesn't wait for a reply because she knows she won't get one and gets a hand under his bicep, giving it a slight pull. Peggy is strong, but Zachary isn't a little boy anymore even though he's most definitely still growing. It's enough to get the younger man moving, shakily pushing himself off the ground and to his feet. He turns to look at his older sister and her heart breaks a bit more at the sight. She gets her arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug, gently rubbing his back. 

"I'm sorry Zach." She said quietly. 

"Why are you apologizing? He's your brother too..." Zachary's words faded into a choked sob as he held his sister and buried his face in her shoulder. 

Later that day Zachary would return to base, dressed in uniform once again and ready to work. People would glance at him warily, unsure if they should send him home or if they should let him do what he felt was right for him. After all, if the boy wanted to continue working the day of his brother's funeral, who were they to stop him? They did it all the time, in fact, insisted that the men continue to move forward despite losing friends and brothers and sisters left and right. 

August. 

"Carter!"

Zachary stopped what he was doing to peer over the wing of the plane, just so he could show his crewmate his disapproving frown. Currently perched on top of it, it gave him a great overhead view of the rest of the crew working on the aircraft underneath him. 

A man's face appears from underneath, grinning up at him with his grease-stained hands rested loosely on his hips. 

"How's it going up there?" 

"Fine." Zachary replied quickly. "Pass me a wrench please?" 

The man obliged and handed him the tool, lingering hesitantly underneath. Zachary continued to work but after seeing the man in his peripheral far longer than he was comfortable with, he peered over the wing once more to raise a brow.