Don't Follow Your Heart-- Anne

Then - Happiness

Hey, Wattpadians!

This is just good old fashion fanfiction that me and my bestie, linkel01, dreamed up. No flames, please--but reviews are appreciated.

linkel01 is writing a different account of this story on this user, so you know.

This version is a series of vignettes, and you need to have seen Captain America: The Winter Soldier to understand the plot.

Aethea out. ❤

* * *

Once, there was a blonde and a brunette.

They were inseparable at birth, and their mother used to joke that God had certainly know what he was doing when he made them friends, as their poor parents could never have handled them as sisters. Born in the late twenties, the two girls flourished and grew into beautiful young ladies, somehow blossoming even under the pressure of the war, which seemed to suck the color from every aspect of life.

Anne Sanders, the older of the two by a couple of months, was a quiet, shy, and introspective young woman. With dark hair the color of coffee before the cream and jade-green eyes that always seemed to see past any facade, she had a fierce heart underneath the quiet outer layer, and a stubborn streak that grew deeper and wider with every day that passed. She was always trying to stick up for what she believed in, but being shy, small and a girl in those days made it nearly impossible to not walk away with a bloody lip and tears in her eyes. Her heart was easily broken, but beneath the hurt was a soul that couldn't be touched.

Melinda Jo Roylyn, or MelJo, as Anne affectionately called her, could not have been more different if she had tried. Bright, effervescent, always laughing, and with a flick of pale golden hair and a wink of her blue eyes, she had the world at her feet. "Jump first, ask questions later" was her motto in life. She was always getting into scrapes for her best friend, helping her walk away unbroken since her lucky combination of beauty and powerful strength made her the most feared and adored girl in school. She fought hard and lived to the fullest every single day of her life.

Anne's parents died when she was only fourteen, taking part of her soul with her, and for time out of mind after, she was a shadow of herself, only able to smile for her friend. Being her family's only heir, the house was passed down to her, but she hated its cold, empty rooms and usually found herself in Melinda Jo's apartment, which was always cheerful and warm. Happily, she was able to avoid the orphanages, and with her friend's help, was able to scrape together a living.

The war came, and both gave what they could spare to the effort. Melinda Jo would have given anything to be out on the front lines, but being a woman meant it was nearly impossible. Anne had a burning desire to protect innocents, but though she tried to volunteer as a nurse, she was turned down due to her aversion to blood.

Then, when they were both seventeen, Melinda Jo's parents went off on vacation and never came back. The search for their flight was the topic of search and newspaper articles for months and months, but as nothing was found, eventually the stories were delegated from the front page to a small area in the back, and eventually disappeared completely. It was Anne's turn to comfort her distraught friend day after day as Melinda Jo's hopes faded and turned to dust.

Boys came and went, time passed, and jobs rushed past Anne, who would be a sales associate one week and a secretary the next. Being in high school was no reason to be inactive, she declared. War continued, but in the small corner that was their world, nothing changed but the choice of what was for dinner.

Then, through a friend of theirs who knew a girl who had a boyfriend who bought from a shopkeeper who knew a lady who told her, there was an open call for all willing volunteers, male and female, for an experimental sect of the Army.

Nobody was surprised when, a week after their class graduated, MelJo volunteered, grin a mile wide.

Everyone was surprised when Anne stepped up and said she would go with with her.

*

The last night, the girls lock up Anne's house, walk the couple of blocks to MelJo's house, and stand on the doorstep together, watching the sun's rays die away from the sky before they go in.

"One last night here?" MJ asks Anne as the standing on her from steps.

"Yeah, I guess so." Anne feels a sickening pain rising in her chest, but she pushes it back down. "Have you got it sold yet?"

"Yes, the people, a lovely couple, just signed the mortgage over." The blonde smiles wryly. When the people came to see the house, the house she grew up in, the house that had seen her in good times and bad times, and where her parents had lived their whole lives, she almost refused to sell it. But she remembered her parents were never coming back, and if she can help it, neither was she.

"You know it's not too late for you to back out," she reminds Anne for what seems thousandth time.

"No can do, kiddo."

All is silent, and it's unbearably solemn as the two girls sit down on the couch, the only piece of furniture into the living room that hasn't been sold off.

"This is it." Melinda Jo finally says, averting her eyes to pick a thread off of her ruffled sleeve. "We're really doing it."

"Yeah." Anne laughs, breathless and disbelieving. "We are."

"We're idiots."

"You are, you mean."

"Who's more idiotic, the idiot, or the idiot who follows her?"

There's a snort, and then a warm, soft promise.

"Melinda Jo, I'll follow you anywhere."

*

In the morning the girls wait for the bus outside with their bags. They turn around and whisper a quiet goodbye to New York, the house, and all the memories that took place there.

The house's covered porch is rundown, white paint peeling off. The porch swing on the right squeaks when the wind blows through, and the yard is covered in dead grass with patches of dirt scattered about. What once was a picturesque white picket fence surrounding the yard is now worn down and peeling paint.

There's a few soft taps as Anne clicks her high-heeled feet together with a wistful frown. "No place like home..."

"Home isn't a place." Melinda Jo replies, gently. "It's a feeling."

They turn and leave before they can't.

The trip to the base takes forever and a day, all by train. New York is quite a ways from New Jersey, after all.

The taller brunette constantly kicks her heels against the floor, almost vibrating with nervous energy. The blonde tells her to stop, or she'll find herself stuffed in the overhead luggage compartment.

When they finally arrive, they're surprised to see the lack of any women. The camp is filled with sweaty, hulking men running around in drills and chanting in loud, barely intelligible rhythm, and Anne feels so homesick that she almost turns around and leaves right then and there.

Before she can blink, though, a sharp looking woman in scarlet lipstick has stepped up to them with all the confidence and poise of a queen, and they're swept away by Agent Margret Carter to the dining hall where they'll meet the other volunteers.

Anne looks over at Melinda Jo, who smiles and shrugs helplessly.

"Here goes nothing..."