Chapter Text
June 17, 1940
Steve woke to a sharp knocking on his apartment door. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and glanced at the clock. 8:17 AM. Monday. He groaned, and grabbed his pants on his way across the small bedroom.
“I’m coming!” he called, as the sharp knock came again. He pulled his pants on, and opened the door.
A woman stood on the other side. Tall. Blonde hair. She looked at him, her gaze traveling down his body and then back up. He felt heat blooming across his cheeks, even though he didn't find any judgement in her gaze. Curiosity, maybe. He straightened painfully, just the same, gaining a couple inches of height. “Good morning. Can I help you?”
The woman smiled, a big, friendly expression. “Hi. Sorry to bother you so early. Jacqueline Jones,” she said, holding out her hand.
Steve blinked. What was going on? He took her hand, giving it a quick shake. Her hand is warm and soft, and fits perfectly in his. “Steven Rogers. I think you might have the wrong door, ma’am.”
“No, I’m at the right place. Get your shoes on, Steve. Where’s a good place to go for breakfast around here?”
Wait, what? He thought over her words, trying to figure out if he was missing something. “Sorry, do I know you?”
She smiled again, and it lit up her whole face. “Not yet, but you will.”
Steve opened the door the rest of the way. He was pretty certain that the woman was crazy, but she didn’t look dangerous. “Do you want to wait inside while I get ready?”
Jackie followed him in, slipping her shoes off at the door. She was antsy, switching her weight from one foot to the other, and then blushing when she saw him notice. For all of her bluster and confidence a moment ago, she suddenly seemed nervous and out of place.
“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, gesturing to the couch. He wanted to applaud himself for not falling into a panic attack, for being in close proximity to a beautiful woman and being able to talk to her without tripping over his own tongue. She flashed him another smile, and took a seat. It was odd, not being alone in the small apartment. Bucky was the only one who ever visited, every afternoon like clockwork since his mom died. He swallowed back another fresh wave of pain, and headed for the bathroom. Steve washed up real quick, pulled on a clean shirt and tie, and came back out to find her still sitting on the couch. He slipped on his shoes, and grabbed his jacket. "There's a diner three blocks from here. They serve the best pancakes in the city." And he still had enough money left over from his last paycheck to cover their meal. Crazy or not, it didn't sit right, letting a dame pay.
Jackie stood, and followed him out the door. He led her down the steps to the sidewalk, noting the way she took in all of the sites, not that there was anything too interesting in this area of Brooklyn. Still…
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
She laughed a bit. “You could say that. I grew up in Virginia. The Northern half, but our cities aren’t anything like this.”
“I can tell. You’re going to strain your neck.”
“It might be worth it,” she said with a smile, but she brought her focus down to street level.
“Is this your first time to the city?” he asked, looking over and nearly working up the courage to meet her gaze.
A playful smirk twisted up the corners of her lips. “More or less.”
“Are you here for a visit, or did you move up here?”
“A bit of both, actually.”
He huffed. His ability to hold a conversation with a woman was weak enough without these half responses. “Do you always give such vague answers?”
“Not always.” She smiled again, and he was surprised to feel a small smile tugging at his lips in response. “It just depends on what’s being asked. Do you always ask this many questions?” Jackie countered.
Steve blushed. “Sorry. I’m being rude.”
Jackie laughed, and touched his arm. She was awfully forward, but Steve wasn’t entirely certain that he minded as much as he knew he should. She’s a distraction, and he really needed one right then. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Really.”
Despite her longer legs, she fell into an easy gait beside him, not making him feel rushed to match her stride. He came up to her shoulders, if he stood up straight, so he knew that it must be taking some effort on her part to make the slower gait seem natural.
“I grew up here, in Brooklyn. I was born in the hospital about fifteen blocks southeast of here.” It was the same hospital where- No! Don’t think about it. “My high school is just five blocks west of where we are, right along this street here,” he pointed out the way, “and there’s a nice park just around this corner.”
She looked around, and he got the feeling that she was trying to imagine growing up here. Her eyebrows creased a bit. “This is very different from what I’m used to. I grew up in a small city, about an hour from DC. Two of my closest friends growing up were raised on a farm. I’m used to more space, I think. Everything feels bigger here, but it’s almost suffocating.”
He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. And when you grow up in a city, you get used to finding space to play.” He stopped in front of the diner. “Here we are.”
He walked up to the door, and held it open for her. A waitress seated them at a back table, and he pulled out her chair. She smiled and thanked him,, and he wanted to crawl under the table when he feels a hot blush crawl up his neck.
There was a menu in front of him, but Steve didn’t bother picking it up. He came here often enough, with either Bucky or his-- No. Not now. He swallowed thickly, and watched Jackie browse through the menu. After a moment, she looked back up, meeting his gaze. “It all looks good. What do you recommend?”
“I usually order the blueberry pancakes with the sausage.”
She nodded, and set down her menu. The waitress came over, taking their order and leaving with the menus. The silence stretched between them for about two seconds.
“You have beautiful hands,” she said. “Artist's hands. Or maybe a musician's.”
He blinked, feeling like he just missed a step somewhere. “I’m sorry?”
"You have the hands of an artist." She gently took his right hand, turning it over, and running her fingertips along his palm, letting them trail up his fingers. He is too shocked to pull away.
Besides, it felt nice.
He reminded himself again that she was a crazy woman. It wasn’t supposed to feel nice when she touched him. It shouldn't feel like anything. He’d have to figure out where she belonged, and lead her back home. Idly, he wondered if he had time to do it before work that afternoon. Wouldn’t he have a story for Bucky tonight, though.
Jackie looked up, and let his hand drop. “Sorry. I keep touching you, don’t I? You look so uncomfortable. I don’t handle nervousness well. It makes me...awkward.”
“I draw,” he responded, a bit uncertainly. “But I don’t think I’d call myself an artist. It’s just something to pass the time, really. I’ve had a few things in the Times, though.” He stopped, considered her words. “What are you nervous about? Is everything alright?”
“Hmm? Oh, great. Everything is fantastic. It’s just been a bit of an odd morning.”
He laughed, startling himself. “You’re telling me.”
She winced. “Sorry, again. I probably should have found a better way to introduce myself, but I wasn’t sure how to go about a casual meeting, so I sort of just blundered into it.”
“Which brings us back to your reason for knocking on my door at 8:17 this morning,” Steve prompted.
“Ah, yeah. We have a mutual friend in the city, so when I mentioned moving here, he said to look you up, and gave me your address.”
“A mutual friend?”
She shrugged. “Fine. A guy named Charlie down at the train station. We spent the afternoon talking over pretzels, and he told me I should look you up. He was worried, a young woman in the city alone. Apparently, you're a 'sweet guy who knows how to treat a lady, and you have a good head on your shoulders’." She almost perfectly mimicked Charlie's speech patterns.
Things started to make sense. He knew Charlie. He'd been one of his mom’s regular patients at the hospital who became something of a family friend over the years. More than likely, Charlie was trying to look after him, too, Steve thought.
"Charlie does enjoy his pretzels. When did you get to town?"
"Four days ago. I have an apartment, a couple leads on work, and I managed to find a small market without getting lost. I thought maybe today would be a good day to go out and meet someone. I'm sorry for showing up so early, though. I live a little closer than I thought, and I ended up not getting lost along the way, so it didn't take as long to get here as I was planning on."
"You scheduled extra time for getting lost?"
She shrugged with a self-mocking smile. "It happens a lot, so now I just plan for it."
"Maybe I could show you around sometime." No, Steve. What the hell are you doing? He bit his tongue. Maybe she'd say no. That could happen.
"Do you mean that? I'd hate to impose. Really, I can figure it out on my own, given a day or two to wander."
He thought about the guys who hung out around downtown, and he was pretty sure he didn't want her running into them alone. "It'd be my pleasure. Besides, Charlie said that I’m a good guy."
"You don't want to disappoint Charlie."
"I really don't." He smiled a bit. That made twice now. Huh.
Their waitress brought their breakfast over, and they lapsed into an easy silence. Several minutes passed before Jackie spoke again.
“These pancakes aren’t bad,” she commented, cutting off another piece and taking a bite.
“Not bad?”
She shrugged. “I’m not a great cook, but pancakes are the one thing I do really well. Everything else, there’s a decent chance I’m either going to burn it or try to serve it half raw. My mother despairs,” she revealed with a smile, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
Steve dropped his gaze down to his plate, something in his chest tightening painfully. The silence started to stretch out, but Jackie jumped in again.
“So, what do you draw?”
He let out a little shaky breath of relief. Back on comfortable ground, he started talking about his art, mentioning the still lifes and the portraits, even a little about the bit of cartooning. With just a bit of prompting, he got into his fascination with the cartoons they showed before the movies at the pictures, or the way he loved studying all of the different ways that light played off of the streets and buildings of the city. Before he knew it, both of their meals were gone, and they were both on their second coffee. If she was bored, she didn’t show it, listening intently, asking questions, and making thoughtful comments.
The waitress brought over the check, and they both reached for it, hands touching. Steve felt a blush spread across his cheeks again.
Jackie glanced up. “I invited you. I think that makes it my treat.”
He shook his head. “No. Let me.”
“Steve--”
“I insist.”
She withdrew her hand. “Fine. Can I get lunch when you show me around, though?”
“My mom would box my ears if she heard that I let you pay.” He set out a few bills on the table, and stood when she did. They left the diner, and he was almost reluctant to let the morning end.
“Where are you staying? Can I walk you back?”
“I’m not far; I’ll be fine, but thank you.”
He nodded. “Are you free tomorrow? I have the day off, and maybe I could show you around some.”
Her face brightened. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”
“I’ll meet you outside your building, say maybe 10:00?”
“There’s a cafe’ on the corner, two blocks from my apartment. That might be easier.” She took a slip of paper from her purse, and jotted down an address and the name of the cafe. “Here.”
He accepted it with a glance, and then looked back up at her, a smile tugging his lips upwards. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
He watched her go. She was confusing, and bright, and everything he wasn’t going to be able to hold onto for long. He still wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t crazy, but she was nice, so maybe crazy wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
***
Jackie walked away, fighting the urge to look back, to make sure that he was still there and this whole thing wasn’t just her imagination gone into hyperdrive. The last few days, she’d been waiting to wake up, to realize that her device hadn’t worked at all, and she was on Stark’s medical floor, lost in a coma.
Hearing Steve’s voice from the mouth of the much smaller version of him had been surreal, but there’d been no mistaking that it was him. Some things, in spite of the serum and all of the years, hadn’t changed. Being here was everything and nothing like she expected. It was exhilarating, and terrifying, and lonely.
He’d warned her about the last one. That very first morning they met, with a broken expression on his face.
Still, it was only for six months, and she’d already completed her first objective. In no time at all, she’d be back to her own time, and back to her own Steve. In the meantime, well, she would accept this as one fantastic adventure. An opportunity to explore a time that wasn’t her own.
And as a bonus, she got to spend the next day with Steve, even if he wasn’t her Steve yet. He was younger, his gaze burning bright still, without having ever seen the horrors of war. Still innocent in so many ways. And Jackie was going to embrace every moment with him until it was time for her to go back home.