![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Forever Captain:
“The Show”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: Steve’s teenaged great-granddaughter cajoles him into going with her to see Rogers: The Musical. And like any good theater experience, they’ll laugh and they’ll cry.
Previous chapters:
1. Balcony Seats
2. The Overture
3. Kids From Brooklyn
Chapter summary: A very important character shows up in the play— and Steve takes serious issue with the portrayal.
“The Show”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: Steve’s teenaged great-granddaughter cajoles him into going with her to see Rogers: The Musical. And like any good theater experience, they’ll laugh and they’ll cry.
Previous chapters:
1. Balcony Seats
2. The Overture
3. Kids From Brooklyn
Chapter summary: A very important character shows up in the play— and Steve takes serious issue with the portrayal.
~~~
4. So Damn Lucky
When the light came back up, the setting had changed to an office, vision charts and recruitment posters pasted on the partial walls. Show-Steve hunched in a chair by a woman at a desk, chewing on a pencil and staring at a clipboard. She was blonde, pretty in a slightly overdone way, far too much for the standards of enlisted women in the era, and in a manner that clearly was afraid not to cater to modern tastes. Honestly she reminded Steve a bit of that woman they’d sent in to greet him when he’d first woken up in SHIELD custody, with her hair too long for regulation, and, frankly, in the strangest-shaped foundation garments he’d seen up to that point.
She was busy noting down his litany of medical conditions, with an increasingly dubious expression on her face. “So… let me make sure I have all this straight.” She tapped her pencil against the form on her board.
“You’ve got… asthma, scoliosis, a heart murmur, stomach ulcers, pernicious anemia, and… you’re deaf in one ear?”
“Just a little deaf,” show-Steve answered, looking down at his shoelaces. “At least my feet aren’t flat.”
“Thank heaven for small favors,” the woman deadpanned, while Steve quietly scoffed—seeing as they definitely had been.
“Jesus Christ. Were you really that sick?” Angie asked, as the woman took down a medical history that included TB exposure and fevers both scarlet and rheumatic. “Pernicious anemia sounds really bad.”
“There’s a reason they don’t call it friendly anemia.” He pulled a face, remembering. “I don’t miss the raw liver, that’s for sure.”
“Raw liver? Ugh, really?”
“Take my advice, sweetheart— don’t ever get chronically ill in the first half of the century.”
Even as he joked, however, he found himself distracted by the character of the woman. Steve was no writer, but they were spending an awful lot of time on her for her not to be important. “Hey, this lady— who is she supposed to be?” He groped for his program, in case the cast list would give a clue. But he then noticed Angela looking at him almost pityingly, as if he were a little slow.
“What?” he asked her.
Her tone was almost pained. “Granddad. That’s Grandma Peggy.”
“What?” Steve’s head whipped back to regard this pencil-thin, pencil-skirted pencil pusher sitting behind a reception desk. He sputtered with the sheer indignation. “That’s— that’s supposed to be Peggy?”
Angie tapped the playbill. “That’s what it says in the program.”
“But— she wasn’t at the recruitment office!” Outrage made his voice way too loud. “Did they think she was…some secretary?”
Angie’s gaze began darting side to side, for the first time concerned that they might be disturbing their neighbors. “Granddad, keep your voice down. People are looking.”
Oh, now she was worried about that? Steve certainly wasn’t at this point. “As if she didn’t have anything better to do?” He waved his hand in the direction of the stage. “Than to… take notes on scrubs like me?”
“It’s just a narrative expediency. Gets her in the story faster!”
“She was an officer! She was out on the front lines! For God’s sake, she founded an entire intelligence agency.” He fixed narrowed eyes on the actress, in all her slim, blonde, American glory. “And this little slip of a thing playing her— with that accent—”
“Granddad!” Angie hissed. She jerked her head this way and that, indicating the glares that were now starting to turn their way. Steve bit his tongue grumpily, as the actor playing him was pleading with the woman to give him a chance.
“I just want to do some good,” Show-Steve said. “If somebody will just give me a shot.”
He could see Show-Peggy’s expression soften, her sympathy growing. “Well… I know a little bit about being underestimated by folks.”
She may have been a little slip of a thing that Peggy could have broken over her knee, but when she opened her mouth to sing, she had a voice that seemed too big for her body.
“When nobody sees what you’ve got to give,
What are you supposed to do?
When every eye is turned your way,
And they only look straight through?”
On the second verse Show-Steve stepped forward, picking up on the theme.
“How do you make the world see you,
And all the amazing things you can do,
When they’ve all got scales in front of their eyes
And they’re shaped like folks like you?”
Soon their voices blended, weaving in and out of each other in a pretty harmony, his clear strong tenor and her rich contralto.
“At least she’s a decent singer,” he conceded. “If they’re not going to bother getting her accent right.”
“Guess they have to make her American. You know, to fit with you.”
Steve groaned quietly. He actually had heard that before, people’s surprise that Cap’s best girl could have been English. “She wasn’t marrying the shield, for crying out loud.”
“As far as they know, she didn’t marry you at all. Couldn’t be that unpatriotic, I guess!” Angie waved her hand at the stage. “But, see, they’re making it clear she was a huge part of your story. Right from the beginning!”
But Steve wasn’t buying it. “Because, what? Her real accomplishments weren’t enough?”
“Well…” He was surprised to see how subdued Angie became, whose opinions were usually so strong they ought to come with milk and sugar. “A lot of that stuff wasn’t widely documented. So much of it was classified, if you look it up… there’s not that much to find. Even if they wanted to.”
He turned to look at her expression, now oddly sheepish. That gave Steve pause— and not about the motivations of the dramatists. Angela had only been eight years old when Peggy passed; the girl had known her, but her memories were that of a child, and of a woman at the end of a long life.
Steve’s indignation softened a little. “Honey, how well do you remember your great-grandmother?”
Angie shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I mean… I remember her, of course. Some things. But… she was over ninety when she died. I loved her, but… I think I missed a lot of her.”
“Ah. I see.” He reached across the armrest between them to wrap her in his arm. “She did amazing things, sweetheart. She never got credit for them the way she deserved. And yeah, it was partially because it was all covert. But she was also ahead of her time. Women didn’t get to do the things she wanted to do… and she did them all anyway. And she kept doing them, no matter what anybody said.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hell, I showed up late. I had to run to keep up, so I could be of any use to her at all.”
He could hear her little sound of pleasure in the dark. “Sounds like Grandma Peggy didn’t need you to save her.”
Steve’s throat went tight. “She didn’t,” he murmured, warm with the memory. “She didn’t need me at all.”
Angela laughed, as if for a moment she thought he was joking. But he wasn’t at all. “She didn’t need anything or anyone. She chose me. She could have had any life she wanted… and she chose to make one with me.” His throat tightened with emotion. “Damn, I was lucky. I was so damn lucky.”
Steve groped in the darkness until he found Angie’s hand. She clutched him tightly with a small happy squeal. “Maybe you would have preferred to see Carter the Musical.”
A laugh broke out of him, overcome. “And not just because I don’t go by my maiden name anymore.”
She joined in delightedly. “Not a bad way to be remembered forever.”
He patted her hand in his. “Forever’s a long time, kiddo. And I was married to your grandma… forever.”
At last the two figures on the stage were facing each other, voices swelling as one in the song’s final stanza.
“If nobody else will look our way,
It’s up to us to open the door.
If I see you, and you see me,
Maybe then we can do something more.”
When the applause died down, show-Peggy excused herself offstage. “I’ll go get Dr. Erskine.”
~~~
Next chapter: 5. Rebirth
4. So Damn Lucky
When the light came back up, the setting had changed to an office, vision charts and recruitment posters pasted on the partial walls. Show-Steve hunched in a chair by a woman at a desk, chewing on a pencil and staring at a clipboard. She was blonde, pretty in a slightly overdone way, far too much for the standards of enlisted women in the era, and in a manner that clearly was afraid not to cater to modern tastes. Honestly she reminded Steve a bit of that woman they’d sent in to greet him when he’d first woken up in SHIELD custody, with her hair too long for regulation, and, frankly, in the strangest-shaped foundation garments he’d seen up to that point.
She was busy noting down his litany of medical conditions, with an increasingly dubious expression on her face. “So… let me make sure I have all this straight.” She tapped her pencil against the form on her board.
“You’ve got… asthma, scoliosis, a heart murmur, stomach ulcers, pernicious anemia, and… you’re deaf in one ear?”
“Just a little deaf,” show-Steve answered, looking down at his shoelaces. “At least my feet aren’t flat.”
“Thank heaven for small favors,” the woman deadpanned, while Steve quietly scoffed—seeing as they definitely had been.
“Jesus Christ. Were you really that sick?” Angie asked, as the woman took down a medical history that included TB exposure and fevers both scarlet and rheumatic. “Pernicious anemia sounds really bad.”
“There’s a reason they don’t call it friendly anemia.” He pulled a face, remembering. “I don’t miss the raw liver, that’s for sure.”
“Raw liver? Ugh, really?”
“Take my advice, sweetheart— don’t ever get chronically ill in the first half of the century.”
Even as he joked, however, he found himself distracted by the character of the woman. Steve was no writer, but they were spending an awful lot of time on her for her not to be important. “Hey, this lady— who is she supposed to be?” He groped for his program, in case the cast list would give a clue. But he then noticed Angela looking at him almost pityingly, as if he were a little slow.
“What?” he asked her.
Her tone was almost pained. “Granddad. That’s Grandma Peggy.”
“What?” Steve’s head whipped back to regard this pencil-thin, pencil-skirted pencil pusher sitting behind a reception desk. He sputtered with the sheer indignation. “That’s— that’s supposed to be Peggy?”
Angie tapped the playbill. “That’s what it says in the program.”
“But— she wasn’t at the recruitment office!” Outrage made his voice way too loud. “Did they think she was…some secretary?”
Angie’s gaze began darting side to side, for the first time concerned that they might be disturbing their neighbors. “Granddad, keep your voice down. People are looking.”
Oh, now she was worried about that? Steve certainly wasn’t at this point. “As if she didn’t have anything better to do?” He waved his hand in the direction of the stage. “Than to… take notes on scrubs like me?”
“It’s just a narrative expediency. Gets her in the story faster!”
“She was an officer! She was out on the front lines! For God’s sake, she founded an entire intelligence agency.” He fixed narrowed eyes on the actress, in all her slim, blonde, American glory. “And this little slip of a thing playing her— with that accent—”
“Granddad!” Angie hissed. She jerked her head this way and that, indicating the glares that were now starting to turn their way. Steve bit his tongue grumpily, as the actor playing him was pleading with the woman to give him a chance.
“I just want to do some good,” Show-Steve said. “If somebody will just give me a shot.”
He could see Show-Peggy’s expression soften, her sympathy growing. “Well… I know a little bit about being underestimated by folks.”
She may have been a little slip of a thing that Peggy could have broken over her knee, but when she opened her mouth to sing, she had a voice that seemed too big for her body.
“When nobody sees what you’ve got to give,
What are you supposed to do?
When every eye is turned your way,
And they only look straight through?”
On the second verse Show-Steve stepped forward, picking up on the theme.
“How do you make the world see you,
And all the amazing things you can do,
When they’ve all got scales in front of their eyes
And they’re shaped like folks like you?”
Soon their voices blended, weaving in and out of each other in a pretty harmony, his clear strong tenor and her rich contralto.
“At least she’s a decent singer,” he conceded. “If they’re not going to bother getting her accent right.”
“Guess they have to make her American. You know, to fit with you.”
Steve groaned quietly. He actually had heard that before, people’s surprise that Cap’s best girl could have been English. “She wasn’t marrying the shield, for crying out loud.”
“As far as they know, she didn’t marry you at all. Couldn’t be that unpatriotic, I guess!” Angie waved her hand at the stage. “But, see, they’re making it clear she was a huge part of your story. Right from the beginning!”
But Steve wasn’t buying it. “Because, what? Her real accomplishments weren’t enough?”
“Well…” He was surprised to see how subdued Angie became, whose opinions were usually so strong they ought to come with milk and sugar. “A lot of that stuff wasn’t widely documented. So much of it was classified, if you look it up… there’s not that much to find. Even if they wanted to.”
He turned to look at her expression, now oddly sheepish. That gave Steve pause— and not about the motivations of the dramatists. Angela had only been eight years old when Peggy passed; the girl had known her, but her memories were that of a child, and of a woman at the end of a long life.
Steve’s indignation softened a little. “Honey, how well do you remember your great-grandmother?”
Angie shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I mean… I remember her, of course. Some things. But… she was over ninety when she died. I loved her, but… I think I missed a lot of her.”
“Ah. I see.” He reached across the armrest between them to wrap her in his arm. “She did amazing things, sweetheart. She never got credit for them the way she deserved. And yeah, it was partially because it was all covert. But she was also ahead of her time. Women didn’t get to do the things she wanted to do… and she did them all anyway. And she kept doing them, no matter what anybody said.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hell, I showed up late. I had to run to keep up, so I could be of any use to her at all.”
He could hear her little sound of pleasure in the dark. “Sounds like Grandma Peggy didn’t need you to save her.”
Steve’s throat went tight. “She didn’t,” he murmured, warm with the memory. “She didn’t need me at all.”
Angela laughed, as if for a moment she thought he was joking. But he wasn’t at all. “She didn’t need anything or anyone. She chose me. She could have had any life she wanted… and she chose to make one with me.” His throat tightened with emotion. “Damn, I was lucky. I was so damn lucky.”
Steve groped in the darkness until he found Angie’s hand. She clutched him tightly with a small happy squeal. “Maybe you would have preferred to see Carter the Musical.”
A laugh broke out of him, overcome. “And not just because I don’t go by my maiden name anymore.”
She joined in delightedly. “Not a bad way to be remembered forever.”
He patted her hand in his. “Forever’s a long time, kiddo. And I was married to your grandma… forever.”
At last the two figures on the stage were facing each other, voices swelling as one in the song’s final stanza.
“If nobody else will look our way,
It’s up to us to open the door.
If I see you, and you see me,
Maybe then we can do something more.”
When the applause died down, show-Peggy excused herself offstage. “I’ll go get Dr. Erskine.”
~~~
Next chapter: 5. Rebirth
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}