“His Part to Play” - 10. Suiting Up
Jul. 18th, 2020 07:19 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
4. Bonds
5. Ghost
6. Stag Night
7. Wingmen
8. Mr. Carter
9. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
Chapter summary: Peggy may be struggling with pregnancy, but there's someone who knows what she's going through, and has an idea of how to help.
“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
4. Bonds
5. Ghost
6. Stag Night
7. Wingmen
8. Mr. Carter
9. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes
Chapter summary: Peggy may be struggling with pregnancy, but there's someone who knows what she's going through, and has an idea of how to help.
~~~
10. Suiting Up
Steve found it bracing, to know he was not alone. Thank goodness, too, as Peggy was relying on him to support her through the challenges of pregnancy. As she grew stouter, she became frustrated by her own clumsiness, and by all her clothes that no longer fit. The other women in the neighborhood were happy to pass along their old maternity clothes— at least, what had not been repurposed for other things during the war —but few were the kind of thing expected for a working girl to wear to the office. Or, in Peggy’s case, into the field.
“What in the world am I going to do?” she grumbled one evening, as she stood over all her old fieldwork gear spread out uselessly over their bed.
Steve leaned against the doorframe. “Ask someone in the quartermaster’s to help you?”
She growled. “I hardly think they keep anything stocked for expectant mothers. And I’m sure there’s someone who’d love to use this an excuse to push me to the sidelines.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was weighing the feasibility of suggesting making something on short notice, since neither of them were expert hands with a needle, when suddenly the doorbell rang.
They turned to look at one another. In a neighborhood like theirs, it was rare to have a visitor at this time of night. Quizzically they went together to answer.
“Mrs. Hayward?”
It was indeed their neighbor Rebecca, sometime known as Rishun, wife of former supply clerk Don Hayward and another veteran of some kind of special assignment. She smiled up at them cheerfully, her hair covered with a kerchief and a basket hung from her arm.
“What brings you here?”
“Pardon me for disturbing at this time of night,” she said. “But I heard you were in need of some maternity clothes. I thought I might be able to help.”
“Thank you, Rishun, that’s terribly kind,” Peggy said, as the woman walked past her into the house. “But I’m afraid it’s not your everyday sort of dress I’m in need of--”
Peggy’s mouth fell open when Rishun unfurled the contents of her basket with a snap. In her hand she held up a canvas jumpsuit, military issue with quilted leather pads at the knees and elbows.
“I thought so. Might this be something you had in mind?”
In no time, Rishun had the suit on Peggy in the living room, bustling around with her pins to nip it in here and tuck it in there.
“Hmmm, just as I thought,” she murmured as she worked. “A little too long in the leg, but the sleeves and shoulders are about right."
Peggy regarded herself in the mirror Steve had obligingly brought out from their bedroom into the living room. “Rishun,” she breathed. “How is it that you have this?”
Rishun smiled, and took the pins from her mouth to slip them into the fabric. “You are not the first woman I’ve known to do the kind of work that needed it.”
Peggy and Steve exchanged a glance as the petite neighbor lady surveyed and adjusted the fit. Steve had suspected an unconventional wartime background of her from the way she’d spoken of her period of service, but her instinctive understanding of the needs of a woman in Peggy’s position seemed to confirm it.
“Yes, this should do nicely,” she said, after Peggy had taken the pinned garment off and she folded it back into her basket. “Give me a day or two, and I should have it finished by then. Unless you need it before then?”
“That’s perfect, Rishun, thank you.” Peggy clasped her hand in gratitude. “You’ve saved my life.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. It wasn’t too long since I was expecting my Keiko.” Keiko was the Haywards' little daughter, just coming up on two years old. “I remember how difficult it could be for a woman in your position. A little help from a sister can make all the difference.”
Steve showed her to the door as Peggy disappeared into the bedroom to redress. She smiled at him and was about to disappear into the dark when suddenly he called out to her.
“Mrs. Hayward— Rishun?”
She turned, and he had to ask.
“The suit,” he said. “Was it yours? From… your special service?”
She laughed as if the very notion was ridiculous. “Grant,” she chided. “I’d be swimming in that one. Peggy’s quite a few inches taller than me, after all.”
She continued down the walk toward home.
It wasn’t until Steve had gone to bed and just about fallen asleep that it occurred to him. Rishun had served in a unit. It wasn’t just her— there were others like her. Others a bit taller than Peggy, but close in the sleeves and shoulders.
He filed this away for future reference.
~~~
Next chapter: 11. On Maneuvers
10. Suiting Up
Steve found it bracing, to know he was not alone. Thank goodness, too, as Peggy was relying on him to support her through the challenges of pregnancy. As she grew stouter, she became frustrated by her own clumsiness, and by all her clothes that no longer fit. The other women in the neighborhood were happy to pass along their old maternity clothes— at least, what had not been repurposed for other things during the war —but few were the kind of thing expected for a working girl to wear to the office. Or, in Peggy’s case, into the field.
“What in the world am I going to do?” she grumbled one evening, as she stood over all her old fieldwork gear spread out uselessly over their bed.
Steve leaned against the doorframe. “Ask someone in the quartermaster’s to help you?”
She growled. “I hardly think they keep anything stocked for expectant mothers. And I’m sure there’s someone who’d love to use this an excuse to push me to the sidelines.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was weighing the feasibility of suggesting making something on short notice, since neither of them were expert hands with a needle, when suddenly the doorbell rang.
They turned to look at one another. In a neighborhood like theirs, it was rare to have a visitor at this time of night. Quizzically they went together to answer.
“Mrs. Hayward?”
It was indeed their neighbor Rebecca, sometime known as Rishun, wife of former supply clerk Don Hayward and another veteran of some kind of special assignment. She smiled up at them cheerfully, her hair covered with a kerchief and a basket hung from her arm.
“What brings you here?”
“Pardon me for disturbing at this time of night,” she said. “But I heard you were in need of some maternity clothes. I thought I might be able to help.”
“Thank you, Rishun, that’s terribly kind,” Peggy said, as the woman walked past her into the house. “But I’m afraid it’s not your everyday sort of dress I’m in need of--”
Peggy’s mouth fell open when Rishun unfurled the contents of her basket with a snap. In her hand she held up a canvas jumpsuit, military issue with quilted leather pads at the knees and elbows.
“I thought so. Might this be something you had in mind?”
In no time, Rishun had the suit on Peggy in the living room, bustling around with her pins to nip it in here and tuck it in there.
“Hmmm, just as I thought,” she murmured as she worked. “A little too long in the leg, but the sleeves and shoulders are about right."
Peggy regarded herself in the mirror Steve had obligingly brought out from their bedroom into the living room. “Rishun,” she breathed. “How is it that you have this?”
Rishun smiled, and took the pins from her mouth to slip them into the fabric. “You are not the first woman I’ve known to do the kind of work that needed it.”
Peggy and Steve exchanged a glance as the petite neighbor lady surveyed and adjusted the fit. Steve had suspected an unconventional wartime background of her from the way she’d spoken of her period of service, but her instinctive understanding of the needs of a woman in Peggy’s position seemed to confirm it.
“Yes, this should do nicely,” she said, after Peggy had taken the pinned garment off and she folded it back into her basket. “Give me a day or two, and I should have it finished by then. Unless you need it before then?”
“That’s perfect, Rishun, thank you.” Peggy clasped her hand in gratitude. “You’ve saved my life.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. It wasn’t too long since I was expecting my Keiko.” Keiko was the Haywards' little daughter, just coming up on two years old. “I remember how difficult it could be for a woman in your position. A little help from a sister can make all the difference.”
Steve showed her to the door as Peggy disappeared into the bedroom to redress. She smiled at him and was about to disappear into the dark when suddenly he called out to her.
“Mrs. Hayward— Rishun?”
She turned, and he had to ask.
“The suit,” he said. “Was it yours? From… your special service?”
She laughed as if the very notion was ridiculous. “Grant,” she chided. “I’d be swimming in that one. Peggy’s quite a few inches taller than me, after all.”
She continued down the walk toward home.
It wasn’t until Steve had gone to bed and just about fallen asleep that it occurred to him. Rishun had served in a unit. It wasn’t just her— there were others like her. Others a bit taller than Peggy, but close in the sleeves and shoulders.
He filed this away for future reference.
~~~
Next chapter: 11. On Maneuvers
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