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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.
“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.
~~~
1. Balcony Seats
“Heyyyyy, Granddad.” Angela’s voice came through on the other end of the line. “You busy the last Saturday of the month?”
Her tone was so pointedly casual that it immediately made Steve suspicious. Angela was sixteen, full of personality, and never sanguine about anything. “Don’t think so,” he said, a little warily. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I thought we could spend the day together. It’s been forever since we went into the city!”
“Sounds nice... any particular occasion?”
Angela scoffed, exaggeratedly indignant. “What, I can’t want to have a night on the town with my great-grandfather without an ulterior motive?”
He chuffed. “I don’t know, honey, can you?”
“Jeez, Granddad, don’t you want us to spend time together?”
He had to chuckle at her wounded tone. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Of course I do. What did you have in mind? Museums? Dinner?”
“Oh, I was just thinking we could…” She paused, thinking just a little too long. “Maybe take in a show!”
“A show?” She was working damn hard to make it seem like it was off the top of her head. If he’d been suspicious before, now the alarm bells were staring to go off.
“Yeah! Broadway, right? Best theater in the world! And you know what’s really hot right now...”
Slowly the extent of the horror started to dawn. “Oh, honey. You don’t mean...”
She did. “Yep! Rogers: The Musical!”
Steve groaned. That was it. He’d heard of its existence from some newspaper headline over breakfast a few weeks ago, since he’d gotten back to his own timeline after his brief dimensional skip back to hand off the new shield to Sam. He choked a little on his morning coffee to see his old surname, all in caps and followed by the clarifying subtitle, in an article about a band-new biographical musical, about the remarkable true life story of the heroic Captain America. Or, at least, as true to life as two hours of singing and dancing could be, when you hoped to sell tickets at fifty to a hundred bucks a pop.
“Angie,” he sighed. “Anything but that.”
“Come on, Granddad! They’re saying it’s a smash!”
“Not sure that’s how I’d describe that period of my life.”
“Well, it’s art!” Angela said impatiently. “There’s bound to be some artistic license. Aren’t you the least bit curious? As to how they interpreted things?”
“Curious isn’t the word I’d use,” he deadpanned. “Avoidant, maybe? Or, on the bare edge of horrified?”
She considered that, then forged blithely ahead. “Well... I already got the tickets, so there’s no use letting them go to waste.”
Again he groaned. “Angie…”
“And I got pretty good seats. One of the nice balconies— you know, so you’d be comfortable!”
“How considerate,” he grumbled. “How much did that run you?”
She made a noncommittal sound. “I don’t exactly remember. But I did use your credit card, so you can probably just check that.”
“My credit card? And how, young lady, did you get a hold of that?”
“That’s not important,” she scoffed. “But I’m pretty sure they’re non-refundable. So you might as well just come and get something out of them!”
He sighed. “You can’t just take one of your friends with you?”
“Granddad! Of course I can’t. Not without telling anybody about my secret time-traveling great-grandfather. You know, like somebody asked me not to.”
“Uh-huh. For which I thank you.”
“Yeah, I’m cool like that. And, well, I’d rather folks not think I’m crazy.” She paused, and her airy tone got a little more down to earth. “Besides, it’s your story. Of course I want to see it with you.”
He couldn’t help but smile a little. “You know it’s not going to be really how it happened, right?”
“Well… who better to tell me the real story than you?”
One of his eyebrows raised. “You really want to hear all that?”
“Of course I do.”
Genuinely touched, Steve chuckled. “Well. Can’t argue with that. If it really means that much to you…”
She cut him off excitedly. “Aw, yes! I knew you’d get into it.”
Steve didn’t know if tagging along grudgingly under the duress of a stolen credit card counted as getting into it, but he was happy that she was happy. “What time is curtain?”
“It’s a two PM matinee. I thought you’d want us to get out in time to catch the early bird specials.”
“How considerate of you, dear. In that case, I’ll meet you at the train station at one-thirty.”
She made a disappointed whoop. “Awww, you won’t pick me up?”
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at her wheedling. “Hey, you’ve already got me coming out to the city. Don’t you push it, kiddo.”
Angela blew out, making a sound like a horse.
He grinned. “Eh, don’t pout. You can put that ticket on my card too.”
“Oh, you can count on that!” And she smartly clicked off the phone.
~~~
Next chapter: 2. The Overture
1. Balcony Seats
“Heyyyyy, Granddad.” Angela’s voice came through on the other end of the line. “You busy the last Saturday of the month?”
Her tone was so pointedly casual that it immediately made Steve suspicious. Angela was sixteen, full of personality, and never sanguine about anything. “Don’t think so,” he said, a little warily. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I thought we could spend the day together. It’s been forever since we went into the city!”
“Sounds nice... any particular occasion?”
Angela scoffed, exaggeratedly indignant. “What, I can’t want to have a night on the town with my great-grandfather without an ulterior motive?”
He chuffed. “I don’t know, honey, can you?”
“Jeez, Granddad, don’t you want us to spend time together?”
He had to chuckle at her wounded tone. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Of course I do. What did you have in mind? Museums? Dinner?”
“Oh, I was just thinking we could…” She paused, thinking just a little too long. “Maybe take in a show!”
“A show?” She was working damn hard to make it seem like it was off the top of her head. If he’d been suspicious before, now the alarm bells were staring to go off.
“Yeah! Broadway, right? Best theater in the world! And you know what’s really hot right now...”
Slowly the extent of the horror started to dawn. “Oh, honey. You don’t mean...”
She did. “Yep! Rogers: The Musical!”
Steve groaned. That was it. He’d heard of its existence from some newspaper headline over breakfast a few weeks ago, since he’d gotten back to his own timeline after his brief dimensional skip back to hand off the new shield to Sam. He choked a little on his morning coffee to see his old surname, all in caps and followed by the clarifying subtitle, in an article about a band-new biographical musical, about the remarkable true life story of the heroic Captain America. Or, at least, as true to life as two hours of singing and dancing could be, when you hoped to sell tickets at fifty to a hundred bucks a pop.
“Angie,” he sighed. “Anything but that.”
“Come on, Granddad! They’re saying it’s a smash!”
“Not sure that’s how I’d describe that period of my life.”
“Well, it’s art!” Angela said impatiently. “There’s bound to be some artistic license. Aren’t you the least bit curious? As to how they interpreted things?”
“Curious isn’t the word I’d use,” he deadpanned. “Avoidant, maybe? Or, on the bare edge of horrified?”
She considered that, then forged blithely ahead. “Well... I already got the tickets, so there’s no use letting them go to waste.”
Again he groaned. “Angie…”
“And I got pretty good seats. One of the nice balconies— you know, so you’d be comfortable!”
“How considerate,” he grumbled. “How much did that run you?”
She made a noncommittal sound. “I don’t exactly remember. But I did use your credit card, so you can probably just check that.”
“My credit card? And how, young lady, did you get a hold of that?”
“That’s not important,” she scoffed. “But I’m pretty sure they’re non-refundable. So you might as well just come and get something out of them!”
He sighed. “You can’t just take one of your friends with you?”
“Granddad! Of course I can’t. Not without telling anybody about my secret time-traveling great-grandfather. You know, like somebody asked me not to.”
“Uh-huh. For which I thank you.”
“Yeah, I’m cool like that. And, well, I’d rather folks not think I’m crazy.” She paused, and her airy tone got a little more down to earth. “Besides, it’s your story. Of course I want to see it with you.”
He couldn’t help but smile a little. “You know it’s not going to be really how it happened, right?”
“Well… who better to tell me the real story than you?”
One of his eyebrows raised. “You really want to hear all that?”
“Of course I do.”
Genuinely touched, Steve chuckled. “Well. Can’t argue with that. If it really means that much to you…”
She cut him off excitedly. “Aw, yes! I knew you’d get into it.”
Steve didn’t know if tagging along grudgingly under the duress of a stolen credit card counted as getting into it, but he was happy that she was happy. “What time is curtain?”
“It’s a two PM matinee. I thought you’d want us to get out in time to catch the early bird specials.”
“How considerate of you, dear. In that case, I’ll meet you at the train station at one-thirty.”
She made a disappointed whoop. “Awww, you won’t pick me up?”
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at her wheedling. “Hey, you’ve already got me coming out to the city. Don’t you push it, kiddo.”
Angela blew out, making a sound like a horse.
He grinned. “Eh, don’t pout. You can put that ticket on my card too.”
“Oh, you can count on that!” And she smartly clicked off the phone.
~~~
Next chapter: 2. The Overture
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