Act I

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Steve woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming in his window. For the second time, it took him a moment to remember where he was. Nightmare of all nightmares, he'd thought he was in the SHIELD room again where he'd been placed after they thawed him out. He was supposed to have been 'gently worked into the new world' but that had ended abruptly when he'd gone charging into the middle of Times Square. Fury had asked him if anything was wrong; stupid question- of course something was wrong! He'd been MIA for seventy years, yeah, he would've thought that counted as wrong.

But the only thing that had really bothered him was missing his date with Peggy. He could picture her crestfallen expression whenever she thought of the Stork Club; he could see her reluctant to dance again for a while after the war. It hadn't mattered to her if he couldn't dance, she would have taught him how. An image materialized unbidden to his mind of Peggy's smiling grimace after he had stepped on her foot for the tenth time. Something that would most likely have happened had he not put the plane in the ice. But it was his only option at the time; he couldn't have waited for the SSR to help. Wouldn't it? What might have happened had he not put the plane in the ice? He would've gone dancing with Peggy, that was what would have happened. Other than that...

No, he told himself. Snap out of it, Rogers, it doesn't do well to bode on the past.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and yawned, stretching his arms over his head before getting to his feet. After a few minutes of fiddling with the knobs and plugs, he figured out how to work the shower. When he finished, he made his way to the kitchen and found breakfast in the cupboards in the form of cereal. The coffee maker was too complex to figure out now so he settled to go without and was soon heading out the door.

Today was much warmer than the previous day, the sun beating down from a cloudless sky. There was no breeze as he walked toward the designated address, but voices still carried through the stagnant air toward him. Somewhere off to the right side of the city, sirens wailed before fading away, out of his hearing range.

The people here, he noticed, always seemed in a good mood. Except Antoinette. He'd already spoiled his first attempt and after today, there would be no other chances. Either she agreed today, or- He didn't want to think about the alternative.

As he rounded the final corner and began down the stretch of sidewalk toward the theatre, he heard a familiar voice call out behind him, "Monsieur Steven!" Steve turned to see Jerome and Jason running over to him. Their mother and Jean were close behind but Jean had just broken into a run to catch his younger brothers. Steve laughed as they began to tell him about their morning out doing chores with their mother. Each tried to talk over the others and it became a battle to see who could capture the most of Steve's attention, though he was trying his best to give them all an equal portion while they bombarded him.

"Garçons! Un à la fois. Vous voyez pas qu'il est débordé?" their mother scolded. Immediately, the three boys backed off and quieted. "Maintenant, if 'e 'as no where 'e needs to be, you may tell 'im," she continued, asking it as a question to Steve himself.

"I am headed somewhere, Ma'am, but it's not urgent. I have time," he answered.

The boys began to bounce with eagerness to tell him their stories. One at a time they each told their own story of how their morning had gone, making Sunday chores sound like a great adventure. When it was time for them to leave, Jason again was last to obey the command. The young boy tugged on Steve's sleeve to bring him down to his own level and Steve obeyed. "Are you sure you're not le Captain?"

Steve chuckled. This kid never gives up, he thought. "I'm sure."

"Can you be?" Jason asked, wide eyed.

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