Late Dance

DJ Dubois

August 2011

Notes: Captain America and the other characters from the movie belong to Marvel Comics.

Timeline: Set during the present day between the end of the movie and The Avengers.

Chapter 1 [Recovery Center—Times Square, New York]

Fall had begun to creep in on the northeastern United States in those days. The hills exploded in their annual October blaze of glory. A cool wind bit through the residual warmth clinging to the countryside. For some, it was time to rummage through the closets and find those winter clothes before Jack Frost came to visit.

Steve Rogers sat in wonder before one of the computers in SHIELD's old library section. As with everything in this "future-present," he struggled to understand how the world's information now came on a screen two-third's the size of his shield and with such speed. I'd rather the microfilm and books. Just something else to get used to.

"How's it going, Captain Rogers?" a pretty brunette intern inquired helpfully. "Can I help you with a search?"

"I'd appreciate that and…" He turned to look at her and stopped cold.

Her chocolate brown locks flowed the same. Her lipstick matched a past familiar red. Her eyes held a confident yet gentle glance for him. She held her posture in just the same way. The British accent topped it off for him.

"Margaret?" he asked almost in a daze/

She straightened up. "Excuse me? Sorry, sir. Who's Margaret? I'm sorry. Did I do something?" She knew from his file that his mind often flashed back to his roots before and during World War II. From what Colonel Fury had said, she allowed him a minute to catch up.

His mind clicked back to reality. Despite his misgivings, he kept his composure. The formula does boost everything include regret and mourning. Wish we could've had more. He put on his best façade and got up from the chair. "I'm done for today. Can you power this down for me please?"

"Of course, Captain Rogers. Are you all right? I can escort you to the clinic if you'd like," she offered.

"Thank you, Miss. I appreciate it but I'll be okay. If anyone asks, I'll be in my room," he declined while trying to be pleasant in the process. He walked out of the library slowly and back toward his room.

The intern sat down at the terminal. She logged him out and logged herself in. Then, according to protocol, she reported the situation to Fury. I hope Captain Rogers is going to be okay!

[An hour later—Steve's Room]

Once he had returned to his quarters, Steve paced about the room and stared out the window toward the twenty-first century pandemonium outside. He turned on the MP3 player as the colonel had shown him and let big band music echo through the space. He felt a lonely ache in his heart. Despite the stiff upper lip he carried, he felt the pain of loss.

…loss for his world…

…Bucky….

…the Howling Commandos….

…and most of all, Agent Carter….

They're gone. Everyone's gone. He grabbed a coffee cup and tensed as if to throw it across the room in frustration. Then his own sense of decorum fought down the destructive impulse. "Just something else Schmitt took from me. Thankfully he can't hurt anyone else."

"Too bad you didn't throw that thing. I wanted to see what kind of an arm you had, Chief," a cocky almost sarcastic voice presumed.

Steve wheeled around and stared at a flashback from his past. "Howard?"

Tony Stark considered the remark. "Close. You knew my old man. Man he looked for you forever. Glad to finally meet his personal holy grail. Name's Tony Stark. You're his big super soldier, Captain Steven Rogers." He held his hand out. "You get to work with me now."

Steve grudgingly took the other's hand. Tony obviously took his father's brashness to a new level. Still if he was even a fifth of the elder's intellectual peer, the industrialist would be a valuable ally. "Your Dad was a great guy, Mr. Stark. I got to fly a mission with him over Italy actually."

"Yeah that deal to free the 107th. What did they call themselves? The Hooligans or something?" Tony recalled.

"The Howling Commandos." Steve let a bit of anger flash through his eyes. "Those men fought hard for our country. Show a little respect. Please."

"My Dad wasn't exactly the greatest guy either, Rogers. Just so you know. Oh so caught up in his work," Tony countered.

"Be that as it may, Stark, Captain Rogers is right. Have some respect for the guys in uniform," Nick Fury asserted. His good right eye cut right through the other visitor. "You're on thin enough ice as it is."

Stark rolled his eyes. "You need me, Colonel. No me. No Iron Man. Remember that. I'm happy to help get Rip Van Winkle here up to speed."

"Are you done?" Fury supposed while folding his arms. He wasn't impressed by the industrialist's latest threat. "I need to speak with Captain Rogers about something. Why don't you come back later?"

"Yeah I can see that. Too bad we can't get that chick from MI-6. What was her name? Marge? Millie? Dad said she was really great looking and…."

"Her name was Margaret," Steve asserted. "I'll thank you not to talk about her like that either!"

"That's enough, Stark. Take off before I put you in detention," Fury ordered. By now the fire burned clearly in his right eye.

"Yeah I'll do that," Stark groused and stalked off.

"Thank you, Colonel," Steve expressed while slumping onto the bed. "What's with him?"

Fury took a deep breath. "Howard and Tony never really got along. That became worse when his mother, Maria, died. Howard pushed himself after that. Tony did after that. Sometimes I wish Tony wasn't such a genius. I'd love to shove my boot right up his ass and out the door. Sorry about that remark about Agent Carter." He listened to the music wafting throughout the room for a long minute and considered the context. "Is this her song or something?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. We never had a chance to go dancing."

"The date you mentioned that day outside," Fury presumed. "I know how hard it is to lose people you love, Captain. Now you understand why I wanted to take it slowly with you?"

"I appreciate that, Colonel. Thank you," Steve expressed.

"Not a problem. Just trying to be sensitive. By the way, if you want to visit her, I can arrange that," Fury offered.

"What? Colonel, she has to be dead! It's 2011!" Steve protested. Then he saw the frank affirmation in Fury's right eye. "Please don't joke about this."

"I never joke about such things, Captain Rogers. I didn't mention it before because I wanted to double check all of the details," Fury assured him. "While we were double checking all of the details of your life and the missions, Margaret Carter—or as she is now, Margaret Simmons, came up prominently. When I realized your connection to her, I had her tracked down. MI-6 came through for us. Especially when I said it was for you, the British expressed us the information with their deepest thanks and well wishes." He handed Steve a manila folder. "This is it."

Steve slowly and hesitantly took it from the superior. He opened it to find two pictures and a dossier. The picture on the right was of a slightly heavier set woman with snow white hair. But the eyes and mouth still held the fire they had during the forties. He looked at the picture on the left side.

Agent Carter, as she'd been when they'd served together, looked back at him.

He smiled and shed a tear in spite of himself. He wiped it off quickly lest he seemed too emotional in front of the superior officer.

"No shame in that. We're behind closed doors and I know how you feel about her." Fury looked him in the eye. "You've been waiting for a mission. This is it. Get that dance with her, Rogers. Just don't let it get out that I'm soft. Okay?"

Steve nodded while feeling a surge of energy throughout himself. He stood and saluted. "I appreciate this, Colonel. When do I leave?"

"We leave immediately. No offense, Captain, I trust you but in case there's any issues with technology or adjustment issues, I'd like to be on site just in case. That okay with you?" Fury supposed while returning the salute.

"Yes, sir. I'll get to packing. Should I bring my costume?" Steve queried.

"We're set. I've already taken the liberty of loading some things including your costume and shield in case we need it," Fury told him. "Figured you wouldn't mind that. Wheels go up in forty-five minutes."

Steve turned off the MP3 player and shut off the lights. Grabbing his brown swede jacket, he headed from the room and followed Fury down the hall toward the waiting car.

Destiny, it seemed, would honor that rain check after all…..