Rumors of War || The First Avenger

Chapter Nine: Withered Roses

Picture is Tatiana Maslany as Emma Holmes.

Music is "A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square" by Vera Lynn.

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CHAPTER NINE: Withered Roses

Not even a day passed before I was back to work. The tossed thoughts in my head kept fighting for dominance. Who will win: fear or anger? That is the age old question.

Teaching a bunch of wild, uncontrollable forth graders was the job of today. All twenty of the students just decided to run wild before the bell rang, running around the room chasing each other like they were half their age.

"Children!" I shouted, slamming my ruler down on the wood desk. "You are ten, not five. Sit down this instance!"

Before I can jump to extreme measure of discipline, the bell rings, signalling the end of the school day. I sighed, opening the door for all the wild children to walk free. "Remember your President reports!" I shout after them, into the hallway. "Have them on my desk soon! Nicholas Fury, that means you!"

"Yes, Ms. Holmes." Poor Nick. He can never turn his work in on time.

As I close the door, I take a huge breath in, walking back to my teachers chair to relax into it. My shoulders slump and I let my head fall back against the blackboard. "Ugh, why did I have to choose teaching? And teaching children. I couldn't have chosen to teach tenth graders."

"Tenth graders just like to punch things for answers," a familiar voice says from the doorway. I jerk my head to see Steve leaning against the frame, smirking at the classroom. "A hurricane come through here or somethin'?"

I laugh and stand up. "Or something. Those children never cease to amaze me at how much mess they can make in eight hours time." I begin to straighten up the room, placing chairs back in their rightful places behind their rightful desks, taking papers off the floor, and making certain that everyone's homework is laid on my desk. I chuckle to myself at what Bucky would do if he were here. "You know, Bucky would've just come in and entertained the hell out of those kids. He could've gotten them to calm down."

"Can I help?" Steve asks, not knowing what to say to that.

"Sure," I sigh. "Hand me those pencils. The children decided to play darts with them."

"You don't rule with an iron fist, do ya, Em?" Steve smirks, gathering up the remnants of the disaster.

"I prefer the love over hate method of teaching. Most days it works." I stand up and place my hands on my hips. "Someone gave them sugar over lunch bream, I tell you. I will find out who." I turn to Steve, changing the subject. "How was school?"

He shrugs. "Alright. Same ole, same ole." Steve looks to the ground.

"Steve," I say, "I know when you're lying. You always look to the ground. Now, tell me the truth."

Steve runs his hand through his hair. "I, um, didn't go."

"Why not?"

"Promise you won't be mad?"

I roll my eyes. "Steven Rogers-"

"-Sit down, Emma."

His words take me by surprise, but I do as he says anyways. "What is this about?"

Steve sits down in one of the children's chairs. "I didn't tell you yesterday because... of Bucky." We both look down at the mention of his name, the sting of his departure to the war front still hurting all of us. "I didn't even tell Bucky because I didn't want to worry him."