"You. You stole it."

Startled, Steve looked up from the carton of biographies he was unpacking and turned to face his accuser. They were in the back aisle of Time Was, and there wasn't much room here, but the tiny woman pushing the walker was heading his way with as much arthritic determination as she could, her blue eyes wide. Steve rose up, waiting politely until she reached him, and tried not to react when she bumped his stomach with the front bar of her walker.

"You stole my A, Rogers!" she blurted at him, tipping her head back to look up into his face. "Cost me half a week's pay for that damned thing, you fink! I was stuck eating toast and jam all the way back to Calais because of you!"

Steve looked at her, lost for a moment but the tilt of her head seemed familiar and within seconds he had reached back through the decades to find a name to go with that face.

"Maisie? Maisie Abbott?" he blurted as delight, worry, and guilt flooded him.

The old lady held her glare for a moment longer, and then broke into a smile, her overly red lips parting to show bright dentures a little too large for her mouth. "Haven't been Abbott in ages; it's Gustafson now, but yeah, that was me, Maisie, first A in the chorus line. Can't believe you actually remember me!"

Steve gave a little chuckle and ran a hand through his hair to hide his embarrassment; Maisie didn't look much like she did nearly eighty years ago during the War Bond tour, but a second rush of memory brought back a curvy brunette with rolled hair and a carmine smile. "How could anyone forget you?" he offered gallantly and let her pat his arm. "You were the one who gave me the nod when to hit the lights."

"You bet!" Maisie chuckled a little creakily. She blinked at him, her rheumy eyes brighter now. "Such a good kid you were, even if you did come from Brooklyn. The girls and me thought you were the bee's knees you know, all polite and full of muscles. I'm surprised Kate didn't try to jump you within the first week we were on the road."

"She did," Steve confessed, blushing. "Try, that is. I, uh, told her I was already spoken for."

"I remember," Maisie nodded, "just made you all the sweeter, honey. That is, until you grabbed my helmet and left me to pay the tab. Jack—you remember Jack don't you? Stage manager? Well he docked my pay for it but when those photos of you in the newspapers came out it was pretty damned clear who'd nabbed my A."

"I'm sorry Maisie," Steve murmured, pangs of guilt in his voice. "Honest to Pete I am. I needed a helmet and yours was the first one I spotted so I grabbed it and never gave it a second thought. I'm sorry."

Maisie stared at him a moment longer and broke into a wheezy laugh, her thin shoulders shaking. "It's all right now, Steve. Oh I was good and mad for the first couple of months but after that, it got funny, you know? A great story. A family story. I told my husband, and his friends, and then our two kids and now my grandkids. They all know about the time Captain America stole my helmet so he could go rescue the 107th."

Steve fought his chuckles, but a gentle swat from Maisie undid him, and he finally laughed, joining her for a moment of bittersweet camaraderie. When it died away, Maisie shifted a little and reached up a knobby hand to pat his cheek. It was too far, and Steve bent down so she could.

"I'm proud of you, honey. All of us were. Every single one of us in that show knew you had it in you."

Carefully, gently, Steve leaned over the walker to hug Maisie, taking in the fragile warmth of her as he whispered, "thanks."

Dear sepia-toned memories flared through his mind along with sweet emotions and it was a long time until they let go of each other. When the pair of them finally pulled away, a new thought occurred to Steve, and he leaned around the end of the aisle to look back towards the pie counter.

Joe was there, working on his laptop, with Lauren close by. Steve grinned. He glanced down at Maisie and asked, "would you be willing to tell the story again to some folks who'd really really love to hear it?"

Maisie gave a delighted shrug. "Sure."

"Good, because I know a particular someone who wants to get the goods on me," Steve grinned, "and your story will make the other one's day."

"Lead the way," Maisie nodded. She hesitated a moment and asked, "You still spoken for?"

Steve blushed. "Engaged, two months ago. We're getting married at the end of this one."

Maisie twinkled. "Does she know you're a helmet-stealing fink?"

"She's about to find out," Steve assured her, and helped to turn the walker around, grinning.