Chapter 9: Steve

I was dressed nicer than usual, given that I wasn't in a lab where there was the potential for strange chemicals getting spilled on me. For my trip into Brooklyn I'd donned a navy skirt and blazer, a white button-front and scarf, and black heels. A black beret rested on top of my head and my hair was pulling back into a long braid and tossed casually over one shoulder.

I squinted up at a street sign and turned at the corner. I scanned the stores as I passed, looking for the right one. The antique store was on my right. When I ducked in, a little bell rang. I peered around. Like many antique shops, it was silent as the grave with the odd smell that came with age lingering in the air.

An older woman in a peach blouse smiled at me from behind the counter. "Wonderful weather we're having," she commented. I saw her right hand move beneath the counter. I had no doubt she had some kind of weapon or alarm under there and was just waiting to press it.

Hastily, I said, "Yes, but I always carry an umbrella."

She relaxed and gestured for me to follow her behind a curtain to the back room. I stepped behind the counter and glanced at the spot where she'd been standing, smiling slightly when I saw the automatic weapon resting in a little niche.

The backroom was lined with bookshelves. The woman pulled one back. I couldn't resist smiling at the cheesiness of it all as a section of the shelves slid back and revealed a long, white-tiled hallway. It looked like a hospital more than a secret government laboratory.

"There you are!"

A head popped out from the hallway with a neatly-trimmed moustache, slicked back hair, and a wide, cheeky grin. I recognized him from the press clippings, although he looked different in slacks and a button-down with rolled-up sleeves instead of the classy three-piece suits.

Howard Stark winked at the older woman. "I'll take it from here, Mary."

Mary smiled back, eyes glittering in amusement. "Of course, Mister Stark."

Howard grinned after her as she left the back room. "Love that old gal, great sense of humor. You must be the Herr Doctor's favorite little scientist, the one who's trying to replace me as benefactor," he wagged a finger at me chidingly. "Josephine Ealum, right?"

"Josie," I said, and offered him a hand. He took it, shook once, and then tugged me into the hallway. I got my feet back under me quickly as the bookcase slid shut behind me, nearly catching my skirt.

"Do you have my file?" Stark asked as we started down the hallway. I dug into my handbag, flicking past my pocket book, and copy of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I'd brought with me to read on the ride to and from camp, and finally found the file. I passed it over. Stark took it and immediately began flicking through the papers, making a face at some of the numbers. I didn't blame him. The latest projections for the likelihood of any test subject surviving the procedures were currently in the low twenties.

"Well this just all sounds horrible," Stark announced, gesturing to the papers in his hands. "Tell me, what are things looking like on your end?"

"Currently?" Stark nodded. I drew a finger across my throat. "It could go one of three ways. Either something like the muscle replicating so fast that it bursts out of the skin or crushes the internal organs, the body burns through energy so fast that we might as well have just induced cardiac arrest, or the body begins to mutate in unexpected ways and who knows what happens from there."

Stark winced. "Extra eyes, that sort of thing?"

I shook my head. "If we're lucky."

"Great," he sighed, pushing open a pair of doubled doors. We stepped onto a grated platform. Below us was a lab in various stages of construction. Several white-coated figures rushed around with clipboards and files while others in jumpsuits tinkered with the massive amount of machinery being assembled.

"Oh," I said in awe. "That's… beautiful."

Stark grinned. "Girl after my own heart. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."


I felt like I'd just had one too many spins on the dance floor as I stepped out of the lab. Not only was I reeling from the laboratory – I could have gushed for hours about the equipment alone, some of which was the only of its kind – but also over meeting Howard Stark. He was the sort of person who just rolled up, made your head spin with his genius, and then vanished.

I was dazed as I walked along the sidewalk. After throwing a few ideas around with Howard Stark – I had a few theories on how to improve the serum. I was mentally running trade-offs and making switches in my head, lost to the world around me as I made my way back to where I was to meet the car back to the base.

The smell of blood pulled me out of my thoughts.

I jerked to a stop and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk to stay out of the way of the other pedestrians. Pressing up against the hardware store behind me, I pretended to fiddle with something in my purse, ducking my head to disguise a long, deep inhale.

The smell of blood was coming from an alley at the other end of the block. I listened hard and could vaguely hear the sounds of fists on flesh.

Snapping my bag shut I power-walked down the last couple of yards to the mouth of the alleyway, peering down it. At the very end, half-hidden by a cluster of trash cans, a tall man with the build of a football player had a young blonde boy by the collar and was laying into him.

Indignation welled up and I shouted, "Hey!" before I even thought about it. The man stopped throwing punches and whipped around, giving the blonde time to stagger away and sag against the brick wall, wheezing disconcertingly.

"Move along, ma'am," the man barked at me. "Nothing to see here."

"On the contrary," I disagreed, stepping down the alley. "Let that poor boy go this instant!"

The man scowled. "He was mouthing off, lady, I was just teaching him some manners."

I crossed my arms, giving the man a thoroughly unimpressed stare. "What, by beating them into him? That's civilized."

The man sneered. "Whatever." He sent the blonde a dismissive glance. "Good thing your girl was here to save you, shrimp."

He storm out of the alley, bumping me with his shoulder as he passed. I glared after him, debating about whether or not to demand an apology. That would have only made the situation worse, so I let it pass. That boy needed my help more than that man needed a verbal kick in the pants.

"Come here, let me have a look at you," I said, beckoning the boy out from behind the trashcans. He stepped out, holding the sleeve of his jacket to his bleeding nose. His cheeks were pink. I got the feeling that he was embarrassed about having someone see him get the stuffing knocked out of him.

"Don't do that," I said, reaching out and gently pulling his hand away from his nose. I observed it with a wince. "Ooh, that's broken," I diagnosed. I reached into my purse, pulling out a handkerchief and passing it to him. "Use that," I urged.

"It'll stain," he protested.

"A stain on my handkerchief is close to the bottom of my list of concerns right now," I assured him, catching his unbloodied hand and leading him gently out of the alley. I glanced around and spotted a bench outside a photography studio. I headed towards it, towing the blonde behind me.

"Sit down and I'll see what I can do about that nose," I said, seating myself and patting the bench beside me. The boy sat down, pulling the stained handkerchief away from his face.

Up close, I could see that his face was that of a man, and I remembered his voice being deeper than expected. He was probably about my age, he was just so tiny he looked younger.

"You don't need to bother," the man said hastily, lifting up the handkerchief again to catch a dribble of blood before it ran off his chin. "I'll be fine."

"No you won't," I disagreed. "You'll have a twist in your nose and it'll make it harder to breathe. You already seem to have trouble with that, judging by the way you're wheezing."

It was fainter now, but still present. The man immediately tried to correct it, taking deep, slow breaths like it didn't bother him.

"Asthma," he admitted sheepishly. I nodded in understanding.

"I see. Then you should definitely let me fix this."

"Are you a nurse?" he asked curiously. I shook my head.

"No, but I've fixed my own nose a couple of times." I healed fast, but I had to get the cartilage straightened out or it healed crooked, and I was better off to rebreak it and fix it properly. "It will hurt," I warned him. He straightened up, trying to look tough, but I could almost smell the nerves on him.

"Go ahead," he approved.

I braced my hand on his forehead to keep him from jerking with me and delicately pinched his nose between the knuckles of two of my fingers. Ruthlessly, I jerked. The man let out a yip of pain as the cartilage slid back into place. I quickly released him and his hands jerked up to cover his nose, his eyes watering.

"Sorry about that," I apologized. "There's really no better way to do it."

"That's fine," he gasped, wiping at his eyes with the handkerchief. He scrubbed at his face, trying to get rid of the blood on his face. "Thank you," he said as he dabbed at his cheek and winced. I guessed he'd probably have a bruise there later on.

"Onions," I advised.

He blinked at me. "What?"

"Onions," I repeated. "Or mashed-up cabbage leaves. They help with bruises. I'm guessing you'll have some here in an hour or two."

He wiped the last of the blood off his chin and frowned down at the handkerchief. It was more red than white now. He looked up at me sheepishly. "Uh…"

"It doesn't matter." I took the handkerchief from him, wadded it up, and tossed it in a nearby trashcan.

"Thanks for all your help, ma'am," he said.

"Josie," I introduced myself, offering a hand. He started to take it with his bloody hand, but quickly switched. We shared an awkward, fumbling handshake before he said, "Steve."

That sparked a memory. Skinny guy with asthma, always getting in fights, named Steve.

"Do you by any chance know a Bucky Barnes?" I asked him slowly.

Steve jerked in recognition, staring at me with wide eyes. "Buck? Yeah, he's my best friend. How do you know him?"

I smiled. "You're the Steve I've heard about that's always getting into fights."

Steve winced. "Ah. He told you about that?"

I nodded before assuring him. "Only good things, I promise. There aren't many good topics for conversation on an Army base."

Steve stared at me askance. "You met Bucky at basic?"

I winced. "Oh, yes, it sounds odd. I work on the base. Nothing I can talk about," I added hastily before Steve could open his mouth to ask. "But we've met. He's been a relief, actually. One of the only men there I can have a conversation with without getting propositioned."

Steve smiled fondly. "That's Bucky. Whatever you need, he's there. How is he doing?" Steve asked eagerly.

"Well," I assured him. "He's seemed happy every time I've spoken to him. He's gotten into a few fights of his own," I smiled.

Steve scoffed. "And he gives me a hard time. Thanks for telling me, I'll have something to hold over him when he gets back in a week."

I winced slightly, staring at my lap. My fingers twiddled the end of my scarf. That was right, Bucky would be leaving Camp Lehigh in a week. His basic was almost over. I would miss him a lot. More than I'd realized, actually. I hadn't realized until I considered him leaving how much I would miss hearing him yelling "Belle!" and listening to me without judgment.

I shook my head slightly and dug my fingernails into my palms. The familiar pricks of pain grounded me.

"Glad I could help. Mind telling me what happened back there?" I asked, nodding to the alley. Steve winced.

"Oh, uh… Just this guy… shooting his mouth off… bad-mouthed a couple of soldiers."

I nodded in understanding. With a best friend in basic I could understand why Steve wouldn't take well to that. And I had to admit, I probably would have done the same thing had I heard it.

I glanced at my watch. The car was due in ten minutes and it would take about that long to walk there. I was certain they would wait, but I didn't want to waste the driver's time. "It was wonderful to meet you Steve, but I had a meeting I have to get to."

"Good to meet you too," Steve said jovially as we both stood up. "Wish it could have been under better circumstances. Thanks for the nose though."

"Not a problem," I assured him, waving as I left.