“His Part to Play” - 12. Waiting
Feb. 17th, 2021 10:45 am![[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
10. Suiting Up
11. On Maneuvers
Chapter summary: Steve arrives in the hospital waiting room in DC in hopes of meeting Peggy there.
“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
10. Suiting Up
11. On Maneuvers
Chapter summary: Steve arrives in the hospital waiting room in DC in hopes of meeting Peggy there.
~~~
12. Waiting
“What do you mean, she’s not here yet?”
When they told him he could hardly process the words. They’d arrived in the maternity ward at George Washington after a fair bit less than four hours, thanks to the speeding Steve could get away with at that time of night. Lottie had proved competent enough with the map, when she could be convinced to attend to it amidst her nervous rambling, and better company than he could appreciate, given where his mind was. Now they found themselves eye to eye with the girl working the graveyard shift behind the administration desk, as she flipped through a stack of charts.
“If you’re referring to Margaret Carter, we received a call that she was on the way. But she wasn’t in an emergency vehicle, so we don’t know when to expect her.”
Steve stared, thoroughly knocked for a loop. What did it mean, that she still hadn’t arrived? Had she been pinned down somewhere while she was out on the mission, unable to escape? Had she been waylaid on her way to the hospital? Or had something terrible happened, that meant she was no longer in a condition to travel?
In wracking the possibilities he recalled something. He turned to ask Lottie, where she was lingering nervously a few steps behind him. “She had a contact, you said. Somebody she met in the field. Have they checked in since? Is there any way to reach them?”
Lottie swallowed, and marshaled herself. “I’ll— I’ll get on the wires, Mr. Carter. I’ll see what I can find out.”
He reached out and gave her hand a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Lottie. In the meantime… I guess I’ll be here.”
She shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose with purpose, then marched her way down the hall. That left Steve on his own in the lobby to the maternity ward, to sit on his hands until somebody told him something.
He heaved a gusty sigh and turned to pace, running his hands through his hair. He was distracted enough to have thought he was alone, but a voice cut through his distraction.
“Let me guess. Is this your first?”
Steve turned to see another man in the waiting room, seated in one of the chairs behind him. He was a little older than Steve would have expected, for a man waiting on a new baby, and a little rumpled in the way one was after sitting up into the wee hours of the evening.
“Yes,” Steve admitted, dropping his gaze and forcing himself to stand still. The man offered him a sympathetic smile.
“Of course. The first time’s always rough— for the likes of us, I mean.” He winced apologetically. “Sorry about that. Don’t mean to make things worse. The name’s Harlan, by the way. Harlan Page.”
“Grant Carter,” he answered, taking the man’s hand, hoping he didn’t sound as distracted as he felt. “I take it you’ve been through this before?”
Harlan nodded. “Third time for us. Practically old hat by now— though I certainly remember what it was like in your seat.” He held up an unlit cigarette. “Do you mind?” Steve shook his head; he was no fan, but he had more pressing things to worry about.
Harlan struck a match on a book of them. “I don’t envy where you are right now. I was a grade-A wreck our first time through— and at least I was with my wife when the ball got rolling.” He paused, tilting his head curiously. “What was it that took your missus away?”
Steve explained that they were New Yorkers, but her work had called her away to Washington on an emergency. Harlan’s eyes went wide.
“At nine months? Must be one important lady.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “She is. But when things began happening, I was told to meet her here.” He swallowed hard. “I— thought she’d be here by now.”
Harlan’s face drew in sympathy. “That’s rough, pal. I thought I’d been through it.”
“Yeah?” Steve decided to take what distraction he could get. “Mind if I ask what happened?”
“Pearl and I— Pearl’s my wife —we were just kids when we had our first. Didn’t know a damn thing about expecting, or babies, or any of it. One step past figuring a stork was coming.” He winked at this, and Steve snorted despite himself. “But she was only eight months and a bit when we’d gone visiting her folks for Christmas. They lived out on a dairy farm, way out in the Virginia sticks—the hell out of the way of anything in the neighborhood of a hospital.”
“Oh, no,” Steve groaned, able to see where this was going.
“Oh, no is right. Because of course, we dumb kids figured eight months wasn’t nine months, right? Ain’t that the schedule babies come on? We had plenty of time for a trip out. But wouldn’t you know it— turns out, nobody told our little one he supposed to wait until after we got home.”
“Let me guess,” Steve said. “Christmas morning?”
Harlan grinned. “Christmas eve. Just our luck, little pal didn’t have the patience for that trick. And even if there had been a hospital anywhere near, poor gal was so sick on the trip up I think she would have run the car off the road first.”
“What did you do? Call for a doctor?”
The older man laughed. “Whoa there, city boy! You think you can just ring up a doctor and he’ll come ‘round on your schedule?
The nearest sawbones they got was two towns over, and he made his stop in their neck of the woods once a month, whether folks needed him or not.”
“Well, shut my mouth. So what happened? Were you on your own?”
“That’s what I thought at first. But turns out we were in luck.”
Steve blinked. “In... luck?”
“Sure as shooting. Pearl’s papa was a twenty-year calving man. Delivered more calves in his day than you’ve eaten hamburgers. Folks for miles called him in when a heifer needed a helping hand.” Harlan chuckled. “So there I was, working myself into a panic, while Pop’s there, cool as a cucumber, telling me not to worry— he reckons he knows what to do. And I look at him, and I’ll never forget what he said. ‘Well, son,’ he said, ‘I know I can catch a calf, and those are a hell of a lot bigger than a baby.’”
Steve laughed, imagining the calving man’s earnest face and Harlan’s gawping one. “And did he? Catch yours?”
“Took the rest of the night and into the morning. But that lucky so and so, he was the first one to hold my son Nathan in his arms after all.”
“God bless you,” Steve said, shaking his head. Harlan smiled, and puffed a little on his cigarette.
“So, you know. It doesn’t always have to go all right to turn out right in the end.”
Steve was trying to get a grip on the words when Lottie reappeared, Mary Janes skittering on the tile in the hallway. She was calling for him, breathless. “Mr. Carter? Mr. Carter!”
He shot to his feet. “Any word?”
“Yes,” the girl gasped. “Sir, she’s here.”
He gaped. “Here?”
Urgently she nodded. “Yes, sir. They took her straight in, through the ambulance bay.”
“Jesus, and nobody told me?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to make for the door into the ward. With a few strides, he found his path blocked by the stern nurse matron in her tall white cap.
“Excuse me,” said the matron sharply. “Where you do think you’re going?”
“My wife, Margaret Carter, was just admitted. I’d like to see her, please.”
She stared him down like he was a wayward child. “Fathers aren’t admitted beyond this point. You’ll have to stay in the waiting room until there’s an update.”
“But nobody’s told me anything—”
“As soon as there’s progress, we’ll be certain to inform you.” For all that she came up to his collarbone, she still managed to look askance down her nose at him. “Now, take a seat, Mr. Carter— and try to pull yourself together.”
With a sweep of her starched white skirt, she turned on her sensible heel and marched out.
~~~
Next chapter: 13. The World’s Oldest Battle
12. Waiting
“What do you mean, she’s not here yet?”
When they told him he could hardly process the words. They’d arrived in the maternity ward at George Washington after a fair bit less than four hours, thanks to the speeding Steve could get away with at that time of night. Lottie had proved competent enough with the map, when she could be convinced to attend to it amidst her nervous rambling, and better company than he could appreciate, given where his mind was. Now they found themselves eye to eye with the girl working the graveyard shift behind the administration desk, as she flipped through a stack of charts.
“If you’re referring to Margaret Carter, we received a call that she was on the way. But she wasn’t in an emergency vehicle, so we don’t know when to expect her.”
Steve stared, thoroughly knocked for a loop. What did it mean, that she still hadn’t arrived? Had she been pinned down somewhere while she was out on the mission, unable to escape? Had she been waylaid on her way to the hospital? Or had something terrible happened, that meant she was no longer in a condition to travel?
In wracking the possibilities he recalled something. He turned to ask Lottie, where she was lingering nervously a few steps behind him. “She had a contact, you said. Somebody she met in the field. Have they checked in since? Is there any way to reach them?”
Lottie swallowed, and marshaled herself. “I’ll— I’ll get on the wires, Mr. Carter. I’ll see what I can find out.”
He reached out and gave her hand a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Lottie. In the meantime… I guess I’ll be here.”
She shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose with purpose, then marched her way down the hall. That left Steve on his own in the lobby to the maternity ward, to sit on his hands until somebody told him something.
He heaved a gusty sigh and turned to pace, running his hands through his hair. He was distracted enough to have thought he was alone, but a voice cut through his distraction.
“Let me guess. Is this your first?”
Steve turned to see another man in the waiting room, seated in one of the chairs behind him. He was a little older than Steve would have expected, for a man waiting on a new baby, and a little rumpled in the way one was after sitting up into the wee hours of the evening.
“Yes,” Steve admitted, dropping his gaze and forcing himself to stand still. The man offered him a sympathetic smile.
“Of course. The first time’s always rough— for the likes of us, I mean.” He winced apologetically. “Sorry about that. Don’t mean to make things worse. The name’s Harlan, by the way. Harlan Page.”
“Grant Carter,” he answered, taking the man’s hand, hoping he didn’t sound as distracted as he felt. “I take it you’ve been through this before?”
Harlan nodded. “Third time for us. Practically old hat by now— though I certainly remember what it was like in your seat.” He held up an unlit cigarette. “Do you mind?” Steve shook his head; he was no fan, but he had more pressing things to worry about.
Harlan struck a match on a book of them. “I don’t envy where you are right now. I was a grade-A wreck our first time through— and at least I was with my wife when the ball got rolling.” He paused, tilting his head curiously. “What was it that took your missus away?”
Steve explained that they were New Yorkers, but her work had called her away to Washington on an emergency. Harlan’s eyes went wide.
“At nine months? Must be one important lady.”
He didn’t know the half of it. “She is. But when things began happening, I was told to meet her here.” He swallowed hard. “I— thought she’d be here by now.”
Harlan’s face drew in sympathy. “That’s rough, pal. I thought I’d been through it.”
“Yeah?” Steve decided to take what distraction he could get. “Mind if I ask what happened?”
“Pearl and I— Pearl’s my wife —we were just kids when we had our first. Didn’t know a damn thing about expecting, or babies, or any of it. One step past figuring a stork was coming.” He winked at this, and Steve snorted despite himself. “But she was only eight months and a bit when we’d gone visiting her folks for Christmas. They lived out on a dairy farm, way out in the Virginia sticks—the hell out of the way of anything in the neighborhood of a hospital.”
“Oh, no,” Steve groaned, able to see where this was going.
“Oh, no is right. Because of course, we dumb kids figured eight months wasn’t nine months, right? Ain’t that the schedule babies come on? We had plenty of time for a trip out. But wouldn’t you know it— turns out, nobody told our little one he supposed to wait until after we got home.”
“Let me guess,” Steve said. “Christmas morning?”
Harlan grinned. “Christmas eve. Just our luck, little pal didn’t have the patience for that trick. And even if there had been a hospital anywhere near, poor gal was so sick on the trip up I think she would have run the car off the road first.”
“What did you do? Call for a doctor?”
The older man laughed. “Whoa there, city boy! You think you can just ring up a doctor and he’ll come ‘round on your schedule?
The nearest sawbones they got was two towns over, and he made his stop in their neck of the woods once a month, whether folks needed him or not.”
“Well, shut my mouth. So what happened? Were you on your own?”
“That’s what I thought at first. But turns out we were in luck.”
Steve blinked. “In... luck?”
“Sure as shooting. Pearl’s papa was a twenty-year calving man. Delivered more calves in his day than you’ve eaten hamburgers. Folks for miles called him in when a heifer needed a helping hand.” Harlan chuckled. “So there I was, working myself into a panic, while Pop’s there, cool as a cucumber, telling me not to worry— he reckons he knows what to do. And I look at him, and I’ll never forget what he said. ‘Well, son,’ he said, ‘I know I can catch a calf, and those are a hell of a lot bigger than a baby.’”
Steve laughed, imagining the calving man’s earnest face and Harlan’s gawping one. “And did he? Catch yours?”
“Took the rest of the night and into the morning. But that lucky so and so, he was the first one to hold my son Nathan in his arms after all.”
“God bless you,” Steve said, shaking his head. Harlan smiled, and puffed a little on his cigarette.
“So, you know. It doesn’t always have to go all right to turn out right in the end.”
Steve was trying to get a grip on the words when Lottie reappeared, Mary Janes skittering on the tile in the hallway. She was calling for him, breathless. “Mr. Carter? Mr. Carter!”
He shot to his feet. “Any word?”
“Yes,” the girl gasped. “Sir, she’s here.”
He gaped. “Here?”
Urgently she nodded. “Yes, sir. They took her straight in, through the ambulance bay.”
“Jesus, and nobody told me?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to make for the door into the ward. With a few strides, he found his path blocked by the stern nurse matron in her tall white cap.
“Excuse me,” said the matron sharply. “Where you do think you’re going?”
“My wife, Margaret Carter, was just admitted. I’d like to see her, please.”
She stared him down like he was a wayward child. “Fathers aren’t admitted beyond this point. You’ll have to stay in the waiting room until there’s an update.”
“But nobody’s told me anything—”
“As soon as there’s progress, we’ll be certain to inform you.” For all that she came up to his collarbone, she still managed to look askance down her nose at him. “Now, take a seat, Mr. Carter— and try to pull yourself together.”
With a sweep of her starched white skirt, she turned on her sensible heel and marched out.
~~~
Next chapter: 13. The World’s Oldest Battle
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