therighttime | AU Milliways

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AU Milliways

The door opens from one pub to the next. A rosy-tinted, warm little English pub filled to the brim with uniformed soldiers and local girls, crowing and laughing and being alive, really feeling it for the first time in longer than any of them would like to admit.

The woman who is leaving that particular pub is tall - very tall, inches over six feet - shapely in her 1940s olive dress uniform. Her make-up is fresh, her tie in perfect order, her hair is even curled in classic victory rolls (it took three showgirls three hours to make it happen, but they're all used to it by now).

Stephanie Rogers is grinning, flush-faced and filled with joy as she waves to a dark-haired soldier at the bar and steps purposefully into -- another bar.

She recognizes a shift, a difference immediately, and keeps one hand on the knob even as she frowns thoughtfully at the room around her.

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Steph Rogers.
Captain Steph Rogers.

Well.

After less than a seconds hesitation, Maggie puts out her own hand. She doesn't take the offered one, just places hers in the space like she's independently offering herself.

"Maggie Murdock. Pleased to meet you, Captain."

Steph's only had her Captain title - a real captain title - for a couple of days. In that time, she's been almost entirely surrounded by men and women who know personally what she did to earn it. She knew, eventually, she'd run into people who didn't, who couldn't possibly, and that there might be some hesitation, some disdain.

She looks forward to proving herself, her right to be on the lines, her right to this uniform and any other.

All of those thoughts go rushing right out of her head the moment Maggie holds out a hand close to, but not in Steph's grip. The glasses, the way she's facing in her direction but not her face, oh Lord, Stephanie Rogers is an idiot.

"And you, ma'am," she says, pressing her hand to Maggie's, fingers curled loosely as she gives it a gentle press. The only luck she's had so far in this conversation is the privacy of a fierce blush her conversation partner can't see. "Have you been coming to this place long?"

"Not too long," Maggie says, pressing slightly firmer in a confident shake. "Enough to get the hang of the weirdness that comes with time and dimensional travel. Not so long that I'm blase about it. It's the best place to go for a morning coffee without losing office hours."

"I'd heard of that," Steph agrees, scepticism warring with hope. "Sounds all kinds of useful, if it's true. Bringing my men here between missions for a good rest, a hot meal - can't put a price on that sort of luxury these days."

Right, because she's actually in the middle of the second world war. Maggie, in her realization that this was Captain America may have lost track of that detail for a second.

"I've got to be honest with you, though. I don't know that anyone's had any luck bringing people in with them. I know no one I know at home has found the bar."

"...I can only come in alone?"

Of all the damned useless contingencies a place like this could have, offering rest and comfort to the only enhanced human on her team is right at the top of the list. Steph's dismay is tinged with more than a little frustration. "I was holding the door open for a spell. They couldn't just follow me through?"

They'd all agreed to follow her into danger. The least she could do is lead them somewhere good now and again.

"You could try it," Maggie says - and she really hopes it works. "I haven't tried it, but the worst my partner has to face without me is a really angry opposing lawyer."

"You're a lawyer?" Steph hopes she doesn't sound too surprised. She wouldn't have pushed it so far, held her ground this long, if the right for women to do anything, everything hadn't been a goal.

It's a pretty good vocal regulation, but her heartbeat picked up very very slightly, and there is the slightest rise in tone suggesting that she's pleased with this. It makes Maggie grin as she shifts in her seat and pulls out a business card holder from which she presents Stephanie with a card for Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law.

The address is on 11th avenue in the mid 40s. It wasn't a good neighborhood in the nineteen forties and it still isn't, really.

"Personal cases, mostly."

Stephanie takes the card and grins at it. Miss Murdock's name is part of the actual business and that's a hell of a thing.

"Tough neighborhood," she says after a moment, still smiling as she hands the card out, the corner just brushing Maggie's knuckles. "You must do a lot of good there."

"I grew up there," Maggie replies as she takes the card back. "You sure? i have a few."

Continuing on the neighborhood conversation: "I like to think I do good there. Sometimes it feels like an uphill struggle."

"Oh!" Steph immediately pulls the card back, embarrassed. "Sorry, I-- no, of course, I'll hang onto it. I'm, uh, not really in a place to use it these days, but you never know, right?"

She's pretty sure she couldn't afford a lawyer anyway, even if she needed one. Though at the moment, what she's really referring to is her location. Italy's a little far from New York.

"Goal's only worthwhile if it takes some struggle, it seems like."

"You never know," Maggie confirms.

"And yeah, I think that's true of most things. Doesn't seem worth a thing if you don't have to fight for it."

"Or too good to be true," Steph agrees with a small smile. "I'll be glad to call on you, if the time comes I'm in your sort of trouble."

"If I'm even born yet," Maggie says lightly. "But if you run into me in the bar, I'll do what I can to help."

Steph pauses, then smiles a little sheepishly. "That obvious, ma'am?"

Part of the reason she'd be proud to call on Maggie is because Stephanie would be glad to support any woman who goes out doing men's work - and doing it well.

Maggie grins. "Well, Ma'am is a giveaway. Plus you were really surprised and happy to hear of a female lawyer. Not that it's not hard at this end of the century."

And there's the Captain America thing.

Steph laughs, head ducked, accepting that answer. "Yeah, sorry about that. But I hope you're not too far ahead of me. It'd be nice to think a lady could get that job in time for me to see it back home."

Maggie echoes it, in tone as well as timing. "I'm absolutely certain you will, Captain Rogers."

"That'd be nice." Steph's smile is soft, hopeful. It would be really nice if she could get Peggy to believe her about this place and tell her the same story. She'd love to hear it, Steph's sure, since so far as the captain is concerned, the agent earned her uniform through sheer competence, not a big boost of science.

"I suppose it's in bad taste to ask much about the future? No one told me that was against the rules."

"I don't think it is," Maggie says. "But there's no guarantee it will stay the future just because I tell you. What would you like to know?"

Steph pauses, thinking. She hadn't found a place for Maggie's business card yet, so it's twisted thoughtfully between her fingers, careful not to bend the corners. "I guess just... what it's like. I'd guess you know more about my time - I mean, assuming we're from the same universe and all."

She frowns a little. That part hadn't been entirely clear in the introduction.

"...but if you have flying cars, I know a fella who'd love to know how it was done."

"No flying cars, I'm afraid."

She's disappointed too. "Well, none in public use. I can tell you that while we're probably not from the same universe, I think we're like - one universe over."

"Really?"

Steph is kind of disappointed about the car thing, too. Especially when Howard had gotten it to hover for a minute or two. If Maggie's that far in the future, surely some sort of progress could be made.

Though that's only half the reason for her response. The other is pure curiosity, her head tilted as she lays the card flat, fingertips skimming the edges. "What makes you think so?"

"Well," Maggie says, "and believe me, I know first hand how weird this is to hear, but in my universe there was a well known soldier in that war, called Captain Stephen Rogers."

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