Chapter 1: Under My Skin
Stephanie twisted the throttle, picking up speed as she directed her bike off the Brooklyn Bridge, finding herself riding through familiar territory. Beat up behind that diner, in that parking lot, in the back of that alley; the mental count as horrible as it may seem made her smile. It may not have been the exact Brooklyn she remembered, but it was still Brooklyn. Filled with mothers shouting at their sons from apartment windows to be careful playing in the streets, girls playing jump rope on the side walks, carefully avoiding the many pot holes and trash bins, young men and women speaking loudly from diner patios, all with that familiar twang in their voices. Not exactly home, but close enough.
A crisp, early March wind cut through her jacket, but the sun still shined through peaks in the heavy clouds, so all in all, it was a perfect day for riding. Chilly but clean, a welcome break from the miserably cold slosh of February. Glancing up at the sky, Steph watched dark blue clouds loom out over the bay with the promise of rain. She'd better be fast.
Her task of the day was one she'd been working toward for quite some time. A few months back, she'd began trying to locate the family of her old landowners, who'd rented her a small apartment back in the 40s. It was a slow process, with her role as Captain America among other things hindering her from achieving contact quicker. Henry and Betty Harisson were, of course, long gone, but their daughter whom Steph remembered as a lively seven year old, had grown up and had a family of her own. Over 70 years, they never strayed from Brooklyn, and even continued to live in the same apartment building. Even if just for nostalgia purposes, Steph asked if she could stop by to look at her old place, as long as it was okay with the new owners, and to her surprise she'd found that it hadn't been touched since 1943. Odd, but extraordinary.
Turning down a narrow street, the tall rows of apartments blocking the sun and casting long shadows across the block, Stephanie's eyes swept over the bronze numbers on their doors. The street had long since been renovated, updated to the style of modern times, and for a moment she felt lost, until she spotted the tell tale hand prints in the sidewalk concrete, under the initials "S.G.R." and "J.B.B." Reading the numbers 942 on the door, she knew this was it. Steph pulled her bike to the side of the road, kicking down the stand and dismounting, finding it difficult in the restricting clothes Pepper had picked up for her. Modern clothes were still a mystery. Women wearing pants was nothing new, but in her day they weren't so... tight. And it wasn't like she was going to wear a skirt on a motorbike. Just another thing to get use to, she supposed.
Making her way up the stone steps to the front door, Steph took note of all the little things that'd changed. The new flower pots, the old railing, the new paint, the old windows. She was so immersed in recalling the building from her memory that she barely noticed when the door opened, until a small voice called into the house. "Daddy! Daddy, someone's at the door!" Standing in front of her was a young girl, probably about 10 years old, the mirror image of a girl she'd known long ago. She looked up at her through a fringe of thick auburn hair, wide brown eyes curious. "What's your name, lady?"
Steph bent down on one knee to speak with her at eye level. "My name's Stephanie. What's yours?"
The girl looked hesitant for a moment, before answering while clinging to the door, halfway hiding her small frame. "Nina."
Steph flashed her a friendly smile, holding out her hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Nina."
She looked at the outstretched hang as if it would spring out and attack at any moment, though there was no mistaking her temptation to take it. A middle aged man appeared in the door way, standing behind the girl. The laugh lines around his eyes crinkled the slightest bit as he smiled down at them. "Go on Nina." The girl's eyes shot up to the man before snapping back to the hand, to Stephanie, and back at the hand. She reached out slowly, then quickly tapped her hand and in a split second was running off into the building, giggles echoing off the narrow walls. The man laughed, deep and hearty in his chest, before extending his own hand. "My daughter. She's a handful, but she keeps me on my toes. Benjamin Thompson, pleased to meet you."
Rising to her full height, Stephanie took his hand and shook it, brief, firm, but friendly. "Yes, we spoke over the phone. I'm-"
"Please," Benjamin cut her off as he ushered her inside, "no need to introduce yourself. I know who you are. It's an honour to meet Captain America. You know, my cousin was in that bank during the Alien attack last year, you saved his life."
Steph smiled bashfully, brushing her hair behind her ears. She'd never get use to this, people acknowledging something she would have done regardless of whether she had the Super Solider Serum. During the war, it was a pat on the back, a drink with her team, and on to the next mission; and oddly that was how she liked it. In her opinion, a real hero did good things and wasn't put on a pedestal. They just did it because it was right. But times had changed, and fame came with the job, so she'd just have to deal with it. No amount of show girl, circus monkey acts she had to endure before actually getting to fight could have prepared her. "Just glad I could help, honestly. And I'm off duty, you can call me Steph."
"Well, make yourself at home, Steph. My mother's just in the living room, right there on the left. You can settle down in there, I'll go look for the key." Benjamin pointed her toward the living room before heading off down the hall, calling to who she assumed was his wife about where the key to her apartment was. Making sure her shoes didn't track dirt out of courtesy, Steph made her way toward the living room, finding a quaint little sitting area, well decorated, in which sat an elderly woman watching reruns of "I Love Lucy."
"Dinah?" She called out tentatively from the door way. The woman turned at her name, smile brightening at finding her company. She stood from her seat, slowly but still strong, to greet her. "I'm not sure if you really remember me, you were so young at the time-"
"How could I forget? You were the best baby sitter I ever had, looked up to you as a big sister. I even remember bringing you band-aids after you rough housed with some of the boys down the street." Dinah laughed, her voice paper thin, yet still lively. She had to be bordering 80 years old, but it was obvious the spirit had yet to leave her. She embraced Stephanie, who hugged her back, letting the relief of seeing a somewhat familiar face, however much it had changed, settle her. Dinah guided her to the couch, where she sat next to her on the worn, old cushions. "So, how have you been, dearie?"
"Oh, you know, I've kept myself busy." Steph shrugged, not really going into detail. She didn't have to, it was all over the news. A bit of a violation of privacy if you asked her, but again, another thing to deal with. Her eyes swept over the room, the cellphone left on the coffee table, one of those touch screen tablets on a vacant chair, even the colour TV. "It's a lot to take in." She found herself saying.
"I know it is, I'm still amazed by what they've come up with these days. Of course, I've had time to get use to it." Dinah replied.
A one-breath laughed escaped her, head dropping between her shoulders. "Yeah, this is all very new very suddenly. It's not really a bad thing though, fascinating actually, just takes some time to get use to." She faced Dinah again. "But enough about that, what about you? How were things after I left?"
"It was alright. Daddy died in a car accident in the city just after you left, in 1945 if I remember correctly. It's been a long time, I don't remember him much. Just the little things, like teaching me how to ride a bike. So it was just me and Mum until she remarried in '54."
Stephanie's face fell. "I'm sorry to hear that." Henry and Betty had practically adopted her after her mother died when she was a teenager. They gave her cheap rent, and whenever money was tight, were always there with a nice diner at her doorstep. She'd taken care of Dinah whenever they had to be somewhere, like a free babysitter. She'd come to terms with the fact that they were long gone, but hearing that Henry had gone early was disheartening.
"It's alright. Patrick, that's the man Mum married later, was a good stepfather to me. A little awkward, but he was great at magic tricks and made her laugh again." Dinah looked about ready to launch into a story, which Steph had been plenty eager to hear, when Benjamin appeared in the doorway, dangling a set of keys in his hands.
"Found'em in the cellar in Grandma's old cabinet." He announced.
Dinah rolled her eyes at her son. "Well, I could have told you that, Benny.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because you're old, son. You needed the work out." Dinah laughed, pushing herself off the couch. Steph followed suit, making her way over to the doorway. She took the keys from Benjamin with a quick thank you, before Dinah shooed her up the stairs.
.-.-.-.-.
Apartment 602 sat on the west corner of the top floor of the building, down a hallway covered in cobwebs and under the light of a flickering bulb. She wished she could say it was so unpleasant due to no one walking through in years, but in all honesty it had been like that even when she lived there. Passing down the hall, she glanced up at the light as she passed underneath. Must be a faulty wire. At the end of the hall, she found the old green door, the white numbers she had painted her on herself faded into the cracked wood. Fumbling with the rusted key for a moment, Steph opened the door with a loud crack, as a lock that hadn't been moved in 70 years snapped open.
The door creaked open, and before she could even step inside, a cloud of dust was stirred. She covered her mouth with her hand, coughing while her other hand waved the air clear. The dust covered everything in a thick coat, preserving the apartment as it had been 70 years ago. It was like stepping into a time capsule, everything just the way she had left it before leaving for her performance tour for the soldiers in Europe. She's had no idea at the time that she'd actually be fighting.
Closing the door slowly behind her, Steph flicked on the lights, which to her surprise still worked. She stepped lightly, as if one wrong move would make the whole place would crumble. Stopping in the living room, she picked up an old picture frame, gingerly wiping the layer of filth covering the photo. James Buckerman Barns grinned back at her, arm slung around a frail young woman. A slow smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she placed it back over the obvious space it left in the dust. Rolling her shoulders back, her eyes swept over the apartment, trying to decide right then and there what she'd do with the place. She was living at Stark Tower, so she really didn't need it... but she supposed she could take some time to decide whether she wanted to keep it or not. So, shedding her jacket for the time being, she got to work on going through her old things, picking out what she wanted to take back with her.
.-.-.-.-.
She'd underestimated how quickly the approaching storm would roll in. She hadn't even made it to the Brooklyn Bridge before the skies opened up and let loose the heavy rain. She'd had to pull over to the side of the road and take her jacket off to drape it over the cardboard box she carried in her lap so that it would protect its contents. That, of course, left her soaking wet by the time she stepped out of the elevator and into the main living floor of Stark Tower.
A towel was tossed her way, landing on her face before she could even take in her surroundings. She took it off, freeing her vision to find Tony Stark standing before her with that trademark and ever-so present smirk of his. "You're melting, Capsicle." Balancing the box on her hip, Steph used her free hand to run the towel through her dripping hair. Mug of black coffee in his hand, Tony strode over to her, prodding the box with the screwdriver he produced from his pocket (He always seemed to have some sort of tool on him... whether he knew he had it, or just forgot about it.) "Whatcha got there?" He asked, eyeing it like he could deduce its contents simply by staring hard enough.
Steph set the box down on the coffee table by the wall-to-wall windows, throwing the towel around the back of her neck. "Just some stuff from my old apartment." She explained, turning around with every intention of heading into the kitchen to grab her own cup of coffee, when a palm-sized Janet Van Dyke, a new recruit along with her partner Hank Pym, appeared hovering before her face, bug-like wings flapping rapidly.
"Like where you lived in the 40s?" She asked before flying toward the box, removing the jacket draped over it to see for herself. "Vintage! Nice!" Inside the box was a cluttered mess of old photos, family heirlooms, books, journals, and a few pieces of clothing she could have "updated". She'd never had much, but these few things were precious to her.
Returning to her normal height, Janet dropped herself to the floor, sitting cross legged in front of the low table, picking out a shoe box filled with pictures. She handled them carefully, respecting that they were old and fragile, while taking a handful and flipping through them. "Wow, Steph, is this you?" she asked, holding up a picture. Sure enough, a skinny young Stephanie Rogers stood posing for the picture in front of what looked like an open metal pod, standing next to three other people. Peggy Carter stood to her right, hands behind her back and posture perfectly straight, as it always was. To her left, Doctor Abraham Erskine smiled cheekily, one hand on her shoulder, and to his left, Howard Stark, flashing that winning smile that drove the girls crazy. Steph herself looked nervous, but attempted a smile for the press.
"Yeah, that picture was taken right before they gave me the serum. That's Doctor Erskine, Peggy Carter, and that right there is Howard Stark." She explained, pointing each of them out.
Janet pulled the picture back, holding it right under her nose, eyes wide. "That's Howard Stark? Tony's Dad?"
Tony, who hadn't been paying any attention until he heard his name, walked around the table and behind Janet, looking at the picture over her shoulder. "Yup. That's him." He confirmed, before leaning in a little closer. He grinned up at Stephanie. "Damn Cap, you were a twig."
"I think that was the whole point of the experiment, Tony." Steph rolled her eyes.
It was at this point that Darcy, Jane, and Dr. Selvig, who had become regular guests at the tower when word came that Thor would be coming back to Midgard as he was that night, became interested in the conversation. Darcy leaned forward from her seat on the couch, glancing between Steph and the photo Janet had placed on the table in favour of going through the others."You know, I've always been curious... no offence or anything, but why didn't they... you know, chose a guy for the serum?"
"Well," Steph began, sitting on the arm of the seat opposite her. "the program was originally meant for a man. But Doctor Erskine saw me at the W.A.C Sign Up HQ, how I kept getting rejected but kept going back. After talking to me about volunteering for the trail, he took a few months to adjust the serum to a woman's body."
"And then you went on to become a Star Show Girl in a national gimmick." Tony interrupted with a flourish of his hand and a smirk, before his expression changed to one usually followed by an idea. Which in his case, could be a good, or bad thing. With nothing but a hammed up 'evil cackle' he set his coffee mug down and took off down the hall.
Glancing up from another handful of Steph's old photos, Janet quirked a brow. "What was all that about?"
"Something tells me I don't want to know." Steph answered honestly.
And she really didn't. Twenty minutes later brought Clint, Bruce, Natasha, and Hank up to the penthouse, chatting away with their teammates, friends, and colleagues. The storm grew stronger outside, creating a haze of light cast over the city through the rain and clouds. With every crack of thunder, Steph watched out of the corner of here eyes, Jane glancing toward the window, playing anxiously with her sweater sleaves. The soldier smiled. She liked Jane. She was smart, stood her ground, and easy to get along with. But most of all she made Thor, her friend and teammate, happy. The smile, though, was soon wiped from her face when Tony appeared coming from the same hallway he'd ran off into, carrying a dust old phonograph and a cardboard box balanced on the base. Setting it down, he held up his hand as if to hault all questions, then went about setting it up. Once satisfied it would work, he produced an album from the box, a large square with long faded print, and slipped the record from its case. He set it on the phonograph, placed the needle on it, and after a few blank skipping noises, a grand tune, scratchy and distorted by old recording, began to play.
Steph's face immediately flushed. "No. Please, no." She begged, hoping her assumption was somehow wrong. But sure enough, the chorus began to sing those god awful lyrics. Tony hummed along with a smug grin.
"Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way?
Who vows to fight for what is right, night and day?
Who will campaign door to door for America?
Carry the flag shore to shore for America?
From Hoboken to Cashmere?
The Star Spangled Woman is here!"
Steph dove at the phonograph before the song could continue, quickly shutting it off. Glaring up at Tony through the hair thrown in her face in her lunge, she huffed and straightened herself up once again. She opened her mouth, most likely to call him an Ass, only to find herself bursting into laughter. God, she hated that damn song. Tony soon joined in, more out of relief at not being choked to death by America's Strongest Woman (still totally would have been worth it though.)
"Alright, alright, let's try something else, shall we?" Tony pulled a random record from the box and replaced the previous record with it. Ella Fitzgerald's "I've Got You Under My Skin" began to play, upbeat but easy going. Steph smiled, backing up into her previous seat on the sofa arm rest. She'd never heard this one before, but the style was familiar, one she could understand. She tapped her toes on the floor, making a mental note of the artist and title.
"Well," Tony interrupted her train of thought. "dance for us, Cap!"
"Oh! Please?" Janet piped up in excitement.
Steph could feel a blush crawl up her neck once again as she averted her eyes to her lap. "Uh... I don't.. really know how." She admitted. It had been embarrassing enough back in her day, now it was just plain sad.
Clint stood from his place sitting by the bar. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" He hopped off his bar stool and walked around the couch to move the coffee table out of the way. Now with adequate space, he held his hand out to Steph. "I learned when I was a kid. Trust me."
Steph shrunk back from his hand, before laughing, shaking her head, and taking it, allowing Clint to bring her to her feet. He directed where to put her hands, one in his and one on his shoulder, while he put one on her waist, keeping a firm hold on her hand. He began counting out steps to her, stepping in time with the music. Steph couldn't keep herself from laughing as she watched his feet intently, trying to match without much success. More than once she stepped on her dance partner's feet.
As the second verse came around, Dr. Selvig stood from the sofa and gave a dramatic, bow sweeping bow to Darcy, who gave him her hand and let him twirl her up. Bruce soon followed, offering his hand to Natasha, who ended up leading just to tease him. Tony and Jane, and Hank and Janet joined in, not wanting to miss out. Steph hid her face, both embarrassed beyond belief, and having the time pf her life. With her unable to see, Clint sent a wink at Jane over her shoulder, jerking his head to the side. Seaming to understand while her partner remained oblivious, she separated from Tony just in time for Clint to spin Steph away. They caught each other just as the bass instruments blew their final notes and dropped in unison. Both tried to catch their breaths, eyes locked. Steph was the first to break the silence between them, laughing and smiling so much her face seemed brighter than anyone in the tower had ever seen it. Tony chuckled, eyes never straying from the woman fallen against him.
"Next song!" Janet cheered, diving into the box and taking out the first record her hands came into contact with. Taking a moment to figure out how the phonograph worked, she set the needle on the record, and the soft chords of a new song began to play.
Steph seemed to snap back to reality, stepping back from Tony to get closer to the phonograph. "This is Vera Lynn..." She nearly whispered as if in a trance before repeating louder. "We'll Meet Again. Vera Lynn... she was use to come around and perform for the soldiers. She was Peggy's favourite." Taking up her seat once again, a glazed look came over her eyes as she let herself become lost in the memories this particular tune brought her.
.-.-.-.-.
The rest of the night had been relatively calm after that. Thor arrived on the landing pad on the roof, only to come inside dripping wet, but with a hearty greeting for everyone. They sat around, chatted for a while longer, before everyone gradually trickled off into the tower. Now well passed midnight, Steph found herself in the kitchen, clad in a nightgown and robe, fixing herself a cup of hot chocolate to help her sleep. She'd lied in bed for an hour, but sleep seemed to evade her despite the soothing rain gently hitting her window. So, hot chocolate it was. Warm mug in hand, Steph began her journey through the dark halls back to her bedroom, passing a soft glow down a corridor to her right. She frowned, having assumed that everyone had gone to bed at this time, and allowed her curiosity to guide her down the narrow hall.
She soon found herself standing at the doorway of Tony's workshop, having forgotten that it was down that way. But then again, there were so many different passages that it was difficult to remember them all, let alone recognize them in the dark. Steph watched as Tony bustled about the cavernous room, picking up pieces of wire, metal, and the like, dumping them on his desk. He caught her figure in the door as he turned from the table. Tony flashed her a smirk, lifting a pair of goggles from his eyes. "It's past your bed time, old timer."
Steph shrugged, having long since grown immune to his constant cracks at her 'age'. "Couldn't sleep.
"Well, as long as you're standing there, you might as well make yourself useful. Bring that circuit board over here, will ya? The green metal thing with all the wires on it."
As much as she wanted to tell him off for talking to her like she was a five year old, she really wouldn't have known what he was talking about unless he'd described it. Looking to her left, she found what she was looking for sitting on a pile of other metal scraps. She picked it up, turned it over a few times in her hands as if to examine it, before crossing the room and placing it on the work bench. Her eyes wandered over the equipment scattered around the room, trying and ultimately failing to even comprehend what their uses were.
"Culture shock, eh Cap?" Tony teased, bringing down his goggles once again, adjusting a few switches on the sides as he went about modifying the circuit board she'd brought to him.
"You could say that." She answered honestly. "Did Howard teach you how to do all of this?"
Tony's nimble fingers paused in their work, before he resumed as if to cover it. "The basics, yeah. Probably the only time we really spent together. But I pretty much taught myself the rest, built on what he gave me. Pioneered my own way forward. He wasn't exactly father of the year, but he knew what he was doing in the shop."
Steph leaned back against the desk, far enough away to not be in Tony's way. "Doesn't sound like you two saw eye to eye all that much."
"You could say that again." Tony shrugged, eyes never straying from his work.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Steph's attention continued to wander. "It's strange to hear that... I mean, I knew Howard. We were friends, he was a good ally. You know, you really remind me of him sometimes-"
"We are nothing alike." Tony suddenly snapped, standing straight as he pulled the goggles off his head. His leather gloved hands clenched tightly, his eyes hard, boring into Steph's.
But Stephanie refused to avert her gaze, locked with Tony's, just as strong. She pushed herself off the bench, arms dropping to her sides. "Alright..." She broke the thick silence. "Alright. There are obviously more issues there than I thought. So I apologize. But I didn't know. So don't think for a second that you had any right to react like that, and look at me like I just stabbed you in the back." She spat, turning on a dime to walk out of the workshop, her pace brisk and cold all together.
Tony didn't move as she left, staring at the spot she once stood. Composure falling with a heavy sigh, his hands unclenched as he spun around. "Steph, wait. I-"
Pausing in the doorway, Steph faced him once again, holding up her hand to silence him, expression soft. "Hey. I get it. Don't worry about it." She flashed him a small smile, barely visible in the dim light, but there. "Goodnight, Tony."
Tony watched her leave, making her way down the hall in a flow of light fabric dancing as she walked. He ran his hand through his hair, muttering long after she'd gone. "G'night Steph."