“His Part to Play” - 4. Bonds
Apr. 4th, 2020 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Forever Captain:
“His Part to Play”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “Steve Rogers has retired to the 1940s to build a new life with Peggy. In leaving behind the mantle of Captain America, at last he’s got a measure of peace. Still, Steve will never stop feeling the responsibility to step up as a hero— except he's not sure how much power his actions have at this point in the timeline. Somehow he must reconcile his new life and identity with the responsibility and burden of being a hero out of time.”
Previous chapters:
1. Lost Time
2. Building
3. Reaching
Chapter summary: Steve makes connections with the people in his life— some old friends, and some new. And comes to a decision about the connection that matters most.
“His Part to Play”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “Steve Rogers has retired to the 1940s to build a new life with Peggy. In leaving behind the mantle of Captain America, at last he’s got a measure of peace. Still, Steve will never stop feeling the responsibility to step up as a hero— except he's not sure how much power his actions have at this point in the timeline. Somehow he must reconcile his new life and identity with the responsibility and burden of being a hero out of time.”
Previous chapters:
1. Lost Time
2. Building
3. Reaching
Chapter summary: Steve makes connections with the people in his life— some old friends, and some new. And comes to a decision about the connection that matters most.
~~~
4. Bonds
Once Howard picked his jaw off the floor, of course he had a million questions. About what had happened to Steve, where he’d been, how he’d come to be there now. Steve told them, if not every detail, at least a version of the truth, enough to satisfy them. But he’d had to think long and hard of what was safe for him to say. Howard was interested in the mechanics of how the timeline worked, but Steve maintained he didn’t know enough to say. It was not completely false; even with his experiences, all he had was best guess. But he leaned on the notion that in the tangent dimension of his return, it was impossible to really know what consequences were to come.
Still, Howard was no fool. He realized immediately that Steve had seen at least some version of a future with him in it, and no matter what Steve said, it was clear curiosity was eating him alive.
“Why would you want to know everything that’s coming?” Steve said. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Howard was sheepish but couldn’t help himself. “Not even a hint?”
Steve grinned. “Doesn’t work that way, Stark. Can’t go getting your hopes up.”
Howard heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I liked you better when you were a boy scout. Being of service and all.”
“I could help you across the street, but I’m older than you now.”
He kept it light, but he was resolved. Peggy had been conflicted when he’d explained it, reluctant to commit to a lie. But he’d thought this carefully through. He couldn’t be certain just how much of history was in flux, but with all he knew from his original timeline, there were things he simply couldn’t tell Howard about. How could he? Howard was not married yet— he had not even met Maria —and of course Tony wasn’t even a glimmer in his eye. Would he exert undue influence about what was to come for him? Or would he crush the man with the burden of knowledge of things he could not change? He knew the hour and means of Howard’s violent death. Nobody needed the weight of that hanging over them.
He and Howard had never been exactly friends, though their close work during the war had bonded them. Now, however, he had come to genuinely appreciate the man’s company, and Howard seemed to feel the same for him. It seemed so, anyway, as with his typical extravagance Howard threw all manner of offers and overtures at him, usually at ridiculous expense. Steve fended him off at every turn— “How am I going to keep a low profile in a Rolls Royce?” —but he was touched by how sincerely overjoyed Howard was at his return. Some people, he’d learned, only knew how to express their emotions with their checkbooks.
All over again, he was struck by how like Tony, and how unlike Tony, he was. The same had happened in reverse when he’d first gotten to know the younger Stark. The energy, the ambition, the ceaselessly roving brain and lightning-quick sense of humor, all that had passed straight from father to son. But there was none of Tony’s constant rawness in him, that deep edge of hurt he salved with addiction and pushed limits— a consequence for which Howard himself was in large part responsible. Was that as inevitable as the rest of the path ahead? If Howard was fated to have a son, was it just as fated for that damage between them to be done?
And then of course there was his murder. He and Maria Stark were to die at Bucky’s hands during his period of brainwashed service as the Winter Soldier. That cut at Steve— that he had to dread its coming, and his strong suspicion that there was nothing he could do. The Ancient One had said that the course of history ran strong, and even somebody like Captain America had only limited power to shift it. But he had chosen to return to this time, live his life, with the burden of that knowledge as its condition. It was strange, knowing absolutely everything about this man’s life. But he still wasn’t certain how possible it was to change the course of history. It was a burden he would just have to bear.
Still, Steve hadn’t known just how good it would feel to have friends who really knew him again. Little by little, Peggy brought him into her circle of acquaintance. Though they didn’t dare identify him to everyone, there were those she wanted to know the man in her life. The Jarvises bent over backwards to make him feel welcome, making good on their promise to have them over every chance they got. They were pleasantly down to earth, for all the strangeness of their lives, though it took some time to get Jarvis out the habit of calling him Captain Rogers.
“Sorry, sir—” Jarvis said, then caught himself. “What would you prefer I say?”
“Well… I guess it should be Grant now,” he answered. “But you know I’m just Steve.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Jarvis chuckled, in that restrained English way of his. “But if that’s who you want to be, it would be my honor to help.”
Mrs. Jarvis, at least, was easy around him. She treated him with warm but not diffidence, as if she understood intuitively that he needed someplace to be safely himself. Ana knew, after all, what it was to have to hide in plain sight. And while Steve would never compare his situation to hers, it was nice to have a few people in his life for whom he needed to neither perform nor pretend.
They debated what to do in regard to the Commandos. They had fought and endured so much together through the course of the war, it was no exaggeration to call them brothers in arms. But Peggy’s contact with them was intermittent, since they spent so much time out on classified maneuvers. Any communications sent ran the risk of interception— by the US Army if no one else. Until they knew how to make secure contact, reaching out to them would have to wait.
But she did introduce him to Angie Martinelli, the sassy waitress who had, like the Jarvises, been there for her in the difficult early days adjusting after the war. She was sharp and funny and full of stories, and all Steve ever had to do was ask her how her day had been. She could go on for an evening about the funny anecdotes one collected, auditioning for Broadway during the day while working in a downtown diner at night. Lucky for him, he had a great face for listening.
“Geez, English,” she said, looking him up and down. “A tall drink of water who listens, and can cook? Keep your mitts on this one, or I might snatch him up.”
“Never knew you had such a thing for Italians,” he teased Peggy gently later. “Glad I learned to make a decent spaghett’.”
She’d laughed, a little self-consciously, aware that he included Daniel Sousa in that joke. He hoped it would be okay for him to joke about, but fortunately it did not seem to be a sore point. He was reassured by Peggy’s desire for all her most important people to know him. Steve had been afraid there would be no place for him in her world, with all she had to do, and all the baggage that came with him. But this proved that they could lead lives together, not just love one another but live every day in that love. And that led him to make the decision he’d been turning over in his mind for weeks now— to ask Peggy to marry him.
By some reckoning it might have been too fast. It had only been a few months since their reunion, and for him there was still a great deal of healing and adjusting yet to do. But after being ripped apart by time and space once, Steve knew with a crystal clarity what he wanted more than anything now. He was not about to miss his chance again.
He agonized over the choice of the ring. He was determined to do this right, and that meant making a choice that showed he knew her. She didn’t have the taste for fussy things, not with as often as she was called upon to throw a strong left look. But she did treasure the few pieces of simple, modest jewelry she’d inherited from her mother. And in the back of his mind, he remembered the one she’d had back in the other timeline, the one given to her by another man, that she’d worn until the day she died. He studiously avoided anything that reminded him of that one. But he knew if he chose the thing right, it would matter to her.
He thought about making a reservation somewhere romantic. Howard certainly offered to pull strings for him at all the fanciest places in town. But Peggy had been working a lot lately and didn’t seem keen on going out, and he knew he’d have to wait on that longer than he wanted. So instead, he put together a quiet night at home together, over a carbonara and a nice bottle of wine. She had kicked off her shoes and was telling him about her day, venting her frustrations about the bureaucracy and red tape that tied her up at the SSR. He had to admit he was not listening with his usual attention that night. He was distracted trying to gather up his own thoughts, wrangle together the right words. His hand kept drifting to his trouser pocket, where he held the box with the ring.
“Peggy,” he said at last, when there was a lull. “Are you happy?”
She chuffed. “I know I’ve been grumbling too much about work. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. But I meant… since I’ve been back. With me.”
She reached out and twined her fingers in his. “Steve… I never thought I could be so happy. Not until you came back.”
His throat caught. “Really?”
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
He was silent for a moment, too overcome to speak.
Peggy went on instead. “And you, Steve? Have you been happy since you came back?”
He breathed deep. “For a while… I think I forgot what happy was. I lost so much, and was responsible for so much, all I could think about was to keep it all going. It came to the point where I forgot about even wanting anything else.” He knelt on the carpet in front of her. “Except for you. Even through all of that, I could never forget about you. So that when I had a chance to do the impossible and come back to you… it was the first time in forever I could imagine something more. Something for myself. Peggy… you brought me home from the war. That’s where I want to be for the rest of my life.”
He gasped again, trying to steady himself, reaching out for the words. He thought to reach for the ring in his pocket, but he could not bear to take his hands from hers. Then Peggy slid from her chair to the floor in front of him, gazing at him with her enormous brown eyes.
“Steve,” she breathed. “Will you marry me?”
He kissed her until they were both flushed and breathless, words and ring forgotten.
~~~
Next chapter: 5. Ghost
4. Bonds
Once Howard picked his jaw off the floor, of course he had a million questions. About what had happened to Steve, where he’d been, how he’d come to be there now. Steve told them, if not every detail, at least a version of the truth, enough to satisfy them. But he’d had to think long and hard of what was safe for him to say. Howard was interested in the mechanics of how the timeline worked, but Steve maintained he didn’t know enough to say. It was not completely false; even with his experiences, all he had was best guess. But he leaned on the notion that in the tangent dimension of his return, it was impossible to really know what consequences were to come.
Still, Howard was no fool. He realized immediately that Steve had seen at least some version of a future with him in it, and no matter what Steve said, it was clear curiosity was eating him alive.
“Why would you want to know everything that’s coming?” Steve said. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Howard was sheepish but couldn’t help himself. “Not even a hint?”
Steve grinned. “Doesn’t work that way, Stark. Can’t go getting your hopes up.”
Howard heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I liked you better when you were a boy scout. Being of service and all.”
“I could help you across the street, but I’m older than you now.”
He kept it light, but he was resolved. Peggy had been conflicted when he’d explained it, reluctant to commit to a lie. But he’d thought this carefully through. He couldn’t be certain just how much of history was in flux, but with all he knew from his original timeline, there were things he simply couldn’t tell Howard about. How could he? Howard was not married yet— he had not even met Maria —and of course Tony wasn’t even a glimmer in his eye. Would he exert undue influence about what was to come for him? Or would he crush the man with the burden of knowledge of things he could not change? He knew the hour and means of Howard’s violent death. Nobody needed the weight of that hanging over them.
He and Howard had never been exactly friends, though their close work during the war had bonded them. Now, however, he had come to genuinely appreciate the man’s company, and Howard seemed to feel the same for him. It seemed so, anyway, as with his typical extravagance Howard threw all manner of offers and overtures at him, usually at ridiculous expense. Steve fended him off at every turn— “How am I going to keep a low profile in a Rolls Royce?” —but he was touched by how sincerely overjoyed Howard was at his return. Some people, he’d learned, only knew how to express their emotions with their checkbooks.
All over again, he was struck by how like Tony, and how unlike Tony, he was. The same had happened in reverse when he’d first gotten to know the younger Stark. The energy, the ambition, the ceaselessly roving brain and lightning-quick sense of humor, all that had passed straight from father to son. But there was none of Tony’s constant rawness in him, that deep edge of hurt he salved with addiction and pushed limits— a consequence for which Howard himself was in large part responsible. Was that as inevitable as the rest of the path ahead? If Howard was fated to have a son, was it just as fated for that damage between them to be done?
And then of course there was his murder. He and Maria Stark were to die at Bucky’s hands during his period of brainwashed service as the Winter Soldier. That cut at Steve— that he had to dread its coming, and his strong suspicion that there was nothing he could do. The Ancient One had said that the course of history ran strong, and even somebody like Captain America had only limited power to shift it. But he had chosen to return to this time, live his life, with the burden of that knowledge as its condition. It was strange, knowing absolutely everything about this man’s life. But he still wasn’t certain how possible it was to change the course of history. It was a burden he would just have to bear.
Still, Steve hadn’t known just how good it would feel to have friends who really knew him again. Little by little, Peggy brought him into her circle of acquaintance. Though they didn’t dare identify him to everyone, there were those she wanted to know the man in her life. The Jarvises bent over backwards to make him feel welcome, making good on their promise to have them over every chance they got. They were pleasantly down to earth, for all the strangeness of their lives, though it took some time to get Jarvis out the habit of calling him Captain Rogers.
“Sorry, sir—” Jarvis said, then caught himself. “What would you prefer I say?”
“Well… I guess it should be Grant now,” he answered. “But you know I’m just Steve.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Jarvis chuckled, in that restrained English way of his. “But if that’s who you want to be, it would be my honor to help.”
Mrs. Jarvis, at least, was easy around him. She treated him with warm but not diffidence, as if she understood intuitively that he needed someplace to be safely himself. Ana knew, after all, what it was to have to hide in plain sight. And while Steve would never compare his situation to hers, it was nice to have a few people in his life for whom he needed to neither perform nor pretend.
They debated what to do in regard to the Commandos. They had fought and endured so much together through the course of the war, it was no exaggeration to call them brothers in arms. But Peggy’s contact with them was intermittent, since they spent so much time out on classified maneuvers. Any communications sent ran the risk of interception— by the US Army if no one else. Until they knew how to make secure contact, reaching out to them would have to wait.
But she did introduce him to Angie Martinelli, the sassy waitress who had, like the Jarvises, been there for her in the difficult early days adjusting after the war. She was sharp and funny and full of stories, and all Steve ever had to do was ask her how her day had been. She could go on for an evening about the funny anecdotes one collected, auditioning for Broadway during the day while working in a downtown diner at night. Lucky for him, he had a great face for listening.
“Geez, English,” she said, looking him up and down. “A tall drink of water who listens, and can cook? Keep your mitts on this one, or I might snatch him up.”
“Never knew you had such a thing for Italians,” he teased Peggy gently later. “Glad I learned to make a decent spaghett’.”
She’d laughed, a little self-consciously, aware that he included Daniel Sousa in that joke. He hoped it would be okay for him to joke about, but fortunately it did not seem to be a sore point. He was reassured by Peggy’s desire for all her most important people to know him. Steve had been afraid there would be no place for him in her world, with all she had to do, and all the baggage that came with him. But this proved that they could lead lives together, not just love one another but live every day in that love. And that led him to make the decision he’d been turning over in his mind for weeks now— to ask Peggy to marry him.
By some reckoning it might have been too fast. It had only been a few months since their reunion, and for him there was still a great deal of healing and adjusting yet to do. But after being ripped apart by time and space once, Steve knew with a crystal clarity what he wanted more than anything now. He was not about to miss his chance again.
He agonized over the choice of the ring. He was determined to do this right, and that meant making a choice that showed he knew her. She didn’t have the taste for fussy things, not with as often as she was called upon to throw a strong left look. But she did treasure the few pieces of simple, modest jewelry she’d inherited from her mother. And in the back of his mind, he remembered the one she’d had back in the other timeline, the one given to her by another man, that she’d worn until the day she died. He studiously avoided anything that reminded him of that one. But he knew if he chose the thing right, it would matter to her.
He thought about making a reservation somewhere romantic. Howard certainly offered to pull strings for him at all the fanciest places in town. But Peggy had been working a lot lately and didn’t seem keen on going out, and he knew he’d have to wait on that longer than he wanted. So instead, he put together a quiet night at home together, over a carbonara and a nice bottle of wine. She had kicked off her shoes and was telling him about her day, venting her frustrations about the bureaucracy and red tape that tied her up at the SSR. He had to admit he was not listening with his usual attention that night. He was distracted trying to gather up his own thoughts, wrangle together the right words. His hand kept drifting to his trouser pocket, where he held the box with the ring.
“Peggy,” he said at last, when there was a lull. “Are you happy?”
She chuffed. “I know I’ve been grumbling too much about work. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. But I meant… since I’ve been back. With me.”
She reached out and twined her fingers in his. “Steve… I never thought I could be so happy. Not until you came back.”
His throat caught. “Really?”
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
He was silent for a moment, too overcome to speak.
Peggy went on instead. “And you, Steve? Have you been happy since you came back?”
He breathed deep. “For a while… I think I forgot what happy was. I lost so much, and was responsible for so much, all I could think about was to keep it all going. It came to the point where I forgot about even wanting anything else.” He knelt on the carpet in front of her. “Except for you. Even through all of that, I could never forget about you. So that when I had a chance to do the impossible and come back to you… it was the first time in forever I could imagine something more. Something for myself. Peggy… you brought me home from the war. That’s where I want to be for the rest of my life.”
He gasped again, trying to steady himself, reaching out for the words. He thought to reach for the ring in his pocket, but he could not bear to take his hands from hers. Then Peggy slid from her chair to the floor in front of him, gazing at him with her enormous brown eyes.
“Steve,” she breathed. “Will you marry me?”
He kissed her until they were both flushed and breathless, words and ring forgotten.
~~~
Next chapter: 5. Ghost
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