Rogue Agent

Chapter Three

"So you love period pieces?" Wanda laughed, "I wouldn't expect that of a teenager."

"Absolutely- whether it be Jane Austen or a World War II drama." I was enthusiastic about my period dramas, most everyone knew that. I suppose that's what happens when you're from England.

"You're quite odd," she laughs uncomfortably, working on sorting through some papers.

"Wanda, they never answered my question... how long till I can go back in time?"

"They need you to study the period a bit."

"Period dramas!"

"No, using books."

"That's awfully annoying," I pouted.

"But they'll also slowly take away things from this era, starting with your phone. You're going to have to call and say your goodbyes."

"That's going to be awfully harsh."

"Indeed. We'll give you period style clothes to change into once you get there, tell you the do's and don'ts, among other things. It'll take a month max."

"Dear God!" I snap.

"For example, that may not pass."

"Oh, what do you know about the fifties?" I rolled my eyes.

Wanda didn't bother to fight, changing the subject. "Go talk to Bucky, he has something for you to see."

I'd been at the Headquarters for a day. During this period of time, we'd discussed the mechanics of time travel (they tried to explain, I understood nothing), and eaten a very awkward dinner. The worst part was when Bucky began talking like a grandad, talking about Steve and the 1940s. He went on and on about how they were best friends. He talked a bit about Peggy too, but said that he didn't know her too well and that's why he didn't have more to say. I wasn't NOT looking forward to talking with Bucky, though. I liked him, even if he did talk like a grandad, so finding him outside at picnic tables with an envelope waiting for me was not at all awkward.

"Mr. Barnes, Wanda said you had something to give me?"

"Yeah, from Steve. He gave it to me. Said that I'd find a use for it at some point... so I wanted to give it to you." I took a seat at the table across from him. He handed me the envelope. "Open it."

Inside the envelope was a worn piece of paper. Written on it was the name of a hospital. It was clearly a birth certificate. Josephine Ann Rogers- that was my name. Born on April 15th, 1952. So that meant... that meant that chronologically, I was 73 years old. What a load of shit that was! Born to Margaret Carter and Steve Rogers, in New York.

"It isn't much, but... but you know your birthday, Jo. I think Steve would've wanted that."

"Thank you." I put down the paper. "I'm awfully nervous to go back..."

"Don't be. They're great people."

I smiled, "I'll take your word for it, Mr. Barnes."

Period training, as Bruce called it, was the Avengers assembling and watching Grease, Gidget, and Back to the Future. It wasn't at all serious, in anyone's mind. Especially Carol, who brought popcorn for us all. We laughed our way through the movies, but were reminded that this was serious once they were over.

"I thought I was supposed to learn something..." I muttered, which caused Carol to laugh a lot.

"You did. You learned not to forget plutonium when going back to the future."

"Carol, your jokes are bad," there's a new voice, one I don't recognize. An intimidating man with an eyepatch walks in, holding an orange cat. He was intimidating, at least until I saw the cat, which quickly jumped out of his arms and went to Carol.