Disclaimer: Okay, let's put this out here first thing – I own nothing. Well, except Judy Anne Fox. She's mine and you can't use her unless you ask nicely. I'm always open to asking nicely. But seriously, no Marvel or Marvel universe character is mine.

Prologue

Atlanta, Georgia – he'd only been down South once before. But he'd taken the bike SHIELD had given him all the way down Interstate 95 from Boston. He had discovered he kind of liked Savannah. When he asked a waiter in Kevin Barry's Irish Pub what else in Georgia was worth seeing, the fellow had said Atlanta. Really, not much other than that, the guy told him. But if he just got on I-16 and went up through Macon, he'd hit 75 in two hours. Captain Steve Rogers decided not to mention he'd been to Atlanta before.

And so he had gone. Honestly, he'd never seen a more boring stretch of road than the two and a half hours he'd spent on I-16. Yeah, it took an extra half hour because of a good sixteen miles with a full lane blocked off with barrels. All that mess and he couldn't see any actual work being done…

He'd stopped in Macon, at a diner-type place in a dingy shopping-center type place. A pretty waitress with her hair in a ponytail hanging all the way down her back approached and seated him. She had a friendly smile in bright red lipstick and hazel-green eyes. Somehow, she managed to talk him into a triple-decker burger with Swiss cheese and portabella mushrooms. Her face looked familiar.

"Do I know you?" he asked her, looking at her face carefully.

She tilted her head at him – her name tag said 'Maria.'

"Don't guess so," she said, eyeing him just as peculiarly before scurrying into the back. He could hear her shouting, "Hey Mikey – I got one for you!"

In moments, she returned with a tray – upon it, a large frosted glass topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

"But I didn't order…" he started to protest.

Maria shook her head, flinging her long ponytail back and forth.

"You're one of the good guys – you deserve a chocolate malt now and then," she told him, dropping her volume. "Don't say anything to my manager, okay?"

She smiled at him and gave him a "V for victory" sign before scampering off again.

That had been one of the best lunches he could remember in a while.


So now he had wound up in Atlanta. In exactly the same part of it that he had been last time… This time, he headed for the Vortex – the big place with a door shaped like a skull with flaming eyes. He'd been in the Varsity, recommended to him by a lady in a gas station – great place, really. But he'd found himself joined by a friendly guy in an Atlanta Braves jersey. Since the guy's lady friend had a friend who needed a date, he found himself invited to a Braves game.

That had been amazing – 11 innings and the Braves clobbered the Cubs. He'd had a few beers with the guy and his two friends. The girl they'd fixed him up with – her name was Shellie. A redhead who could hold a beer in each hand, perfectly follow a game of baseball, and belch to beat the band. He wasn't sure what to make of her. Pretty soon, he was sure she was bored with him.

They'd insisted on taking him out for a few drinks after the game. It was a Friday night – the Vortex would be open until at least 2 AM. Shellie and Megan had tucked right into some Red Brick Brown Ales. Paul had refrained during the game so he and Steve could look out for the ladies. Captain Rogers could appreciate that. It wasn't that the girls couldn't hold it, but they sure as heck weren't driving. So Paul had sprung for a Bucket of Skulls and promptly put away two of them. Just for a laugh, Steve took out two more. Megan had downed the last one, polishing off her ale just before.

"Oh hey!" screamed Shellie, jumping down from her barstool and rushing over to someone. "I haven't seen you in forever! Meg, get over here!"

And the brunette had clambered down, thanking Steve when he caught her from turning her heel. The two young ladies were exchanging impossibly-pitched squeals near the end of the bar. Paul, with a beer in his hand, got down too – apparently he knew this person as well. Steve didn't know any of them all that well, so he waved down a young lady with violently pink hair.

"What can I getcha, sugar?" she yelled over the rest of the crowd. "You want another beer?"

Steve shook his head.

"No thanks, not right now," he answered. "Just a glass of water?"

Within seconds, there was a highball glass full of water and ice leaking condensation all over the bar in front of him. He took a deep drink, chasing the cigarette smoke ambient in the place out of his throat. He looked around the place and found himself damn near dazzled… A picture of a half-naked lady hung off the ceiling in one corner! He caught himself staring and averted his eyes to a very fake boar's head with a Santa Claus hat on it. He heard his new friends' voices coming closer to him again.

"So who's your new friend, Shell?" a new voice, a female voice, asked brightly.

Steve got down off his barstool and stood a little straighter. He looked her over and couldn't help his eyes and mouth opening a bit wider than normal. She had wavy auburn hair, pinned into several soft rolls. A tan, heart-shaped face smiled at him and long eyelashes blinked back at him,

"Captain Steve Rogers, Ma'am," he introduced himself.

The lady extended a gloved hand – black cotton.

"Fox," she said simply.

His brow furrowed, and he didn't return the handshake yet.

"Ma'am?" he asked, trying to be polite – this gal had already wrong-footed him.

She smiled brilliantly – he noticed that she used the same shade of red lipstick as Peggy had, so he smiled back.

"Pardon me…" she giggled. She shook his hand, quite a bit stronger than he expected. "Miss Judy Anne Fox."

The other girls giggled, as if they had seen this kind of performance many times – Paul grinned at Steve, holding up his beer in salute.

"P-… pleasure's mine, Miss Fox." Steve tried not to look and sound completely awkward – he still was no good at talking to women. Okay… that one time he kind of had to, the whole 'they're breaking Manhattan' issue. Looking around, he gestured to the bar. "Uh… would you like to sit? I mean… um… Have a seat?"

She smiled, this time showing very white teeth.

"I'd love to," she agreed.

All right, this time he knew what to do – he pulled the barstool back for her and offered her his hand. She nodded to him and pushed herself up into the black leather seat. Paul and the girls joined them. Shellie turned to Megan and the two of them started to giggle. Somehow, Steve didn't feel nearly as embarrassed he normally would have. Miss Judy Anne Fox had immediately stood out as someone he did not know how to react to.

"So…" he turned to her, still feeling so out of place that he might as well have been wearing somebody else's skin. "Would you mind if I bought you a drink?"

She tilted her head at him, arching one perfectly-done eyebrow.

"I do when you ask like that," she all but snapped.

His eyes widened for a moment – how the dickens had he done that wrong?

"Beg your pardon, ma'am?"

She crossed her ankles and sat up rather primly.

"Ask me with some conviction, why don't you?" she commanded – okay, this was new.

He processed this for a moment.

"All right, let me rephrase that," he started carefully. Her eyes, a striking shade of green, flashed at him as though she might explode. He took a deep breath and asked her, "What would you like to drink, Miss Fox?"

Her entire face lit up and that expression seemed to light their end of the bar – Steve scowled inwardly at the look she earned from a biker.

"That's much better!" she praised him. Then she turned to the bartender, the same young lady with the pink hair. "Dorothy, can we get two Skull Crushers over here?"

The girl's eyes, lavender courtesy of specialty contacts, widened and her pink-dyed eyebrows went up.

"One of those better be for him," Dorothy threatened good-naturedly.

Miss Fox laughed, her eyes closing for a moment.

"Of course, of course!" she assured the pink-haired girl. "Meg and Shellie and I are splitting the other one."

The two other ladies mentioned all of a sudden looked very interested.

"We're doing what?" demanded Shellie.

Steve all of a sudden looked very uncomfortable – he glanced at the content of that particular drink and could see this going badly. It came bigger than a pint glass, for Pete's sakes, and had more alcohol in it than most after-shave lotion! But Dorothy put two of them in front of him. He sniffed the air near the glasses – it smelled strongly of paint thinner and peaches. Shellie quickly grabbed the handle on one and the bartender produced three straws. Noticing his demeanor, Miss Fox turned back to Steve.

"Oh don't worry, Captain – I've got this," she said in a confidential sort of voice. "Mom taught me never to let a man pay for my drinks."

Somehow, this made him smile – it was actually quite a sensible rule.

"Well, not how I was raised, but whatever you say, ma'am," he assented, looking down at the drink in his hand as if it might be radioactive.

With Miss Fox watching him, he lifted the glass and tried it. Dear Lord! The stuff froze the inside of his mouth the way dentist stuff did! Dr. Erskine's serum had made his metabolism run four times as fast as a normal person's right? Well, with half that drink gone, he realized that did not mean he could never get drunk. Maybe it just meant it took a whole lot more…

"Here! Steve, we can't finish it!" slurred Meg, who was far more intoxicated than she had been not very long ago. Apparently the rest of the night had caught up with her rather suddenly. "We don't waste shit here!"

And she nearly fell off her barstool, giggling. Shellie wasn't far behind her, sniffling and singing "Hotel California" along with the radio. Paul got down from his barstool and tried to get his arms around both girls. Steve put his drink down, three-quarters empty, for a second and looked back at his new friends.

"Are they all right?" he asked, everything around him just barely turning fuzzy every time he blinked.

Paul nodded, fishing in one pocket for his cell phone.

"Yeah, they'll be fine," he told Steve. "It's just, I've been drinking, so I've gotta call my buddy to get my car."

Steve nodded, the action feeling just slightly more difficult than it should.

"Great to meet you," he told the other man, nodding to both girls as well. "Good night, ladies."

They giggled and held onto each other as Paul helped them out the door, struggling with his phone. Miss Fox, on the other hand, still seemed perfectly coherent. He hadn't really seen her drink all that much, but maybe he wasn't watching the drinking very closely… All of a sudden, her green eyes were fixed back on him and he put away the rest of his first drink before picking up the second – it was a little less than half gone.

"So, remind me of your name, Captain?" she asked him, smiling inscrutably.

He blinked at her and swallowed his drink hard.

"Steve Rogers, ma'am," he answered, speaking a bit more carefully than usual – it only just touched him. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Fox…"

She smiled again, this time slower and… almost dangerous.

"Call me Judy Anne," she told him. "I like you, Steve."