Steve tried to relax, breathe through the attack, but his chest felt so tight, it hurt, and then the wheezing began. The whistling accompanying every exhale, and a few inhales too, the worse his airways constricted. It was so embarrassing. He had just been laughing, for God's sake. He was happy. It was so stupid. Hermione probably saw him as the weakling he was now instead of her knight in shining armour. He wanted to dig a hole and go hide in it, but he couldn't even do that if he had a shovel, lacking the basic muscle strength to do such work.

But he saw her then, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Breathe in through your nose Steve," she showed him, not caring that she looked a bit silly sprawled on the floor as she breathed in loudly, with exaggerated care, so he followed her example. If she didn't feel ridiculous, he probably shouldn't either. He knew what to do, but it was always easier to follow orders when he was in this state. "Out through your mouth. Again. Slowly."

She pushed his shoulders back gently until he wasn't hunched over so much, forcing him to sit straight and open his airways. It got a bit easier, and he focused on her breathing and her hands holding his own.

"Do you have an inhaler somewhere?" she asked softly.

He had no idea what she was talking about and shook his head minutely. He almost wanted to laugh again, because he'd bet it was something that hadn't been invented yet. She coached him through to the end, until he was breathing alright on his own once more, then picked herself off the floorboards to prepare some coffee. He didn't really feel like coffee but took the cup so as not to be impolite.

"Hot coffee helps open your airways," she said with a knowing smile which told him she was reading him like an open book.

Not difficult when it felt like you were dying a little inside from lack of air and too much shame. So he inhaled and drank the coffee, unconvinced at first, but he felt more like himself already. And through it all, she hadn't lost her cool, hovering nearby, like Bucky always did. He chuckled and began telling her about his best friend. How they grew up in the same neighborhood, then how they became close when Bucky self-appointed himself his protector after finding him bloodied a few times too many and finding out why.

"He's always there for me, whether I want him to be or not. I don't understand why he bothers, honestly, he'd be better off without me holding him back all the time. I know I'm just a nuisance…"

Hermione scoffed. And yeah, that was so much like Bucky. No words needed, just flinging raw emotion right in his face to get his point across. He hoped those two met. They'd hit it right off.

"But I can always count on him. Except now he's getting his stupid ass shipped off. Sorry," he added, realising he shouldn't speak so in front of a dame.

"He sounds like a good friend."

"The best."

He waited for her to bring up his asthma attack, but she merely gazed back at him with a smile playing at the corner of her lips, apparently content to wait him out. She might have to wait a long time since he had no desire to bring up how much of a weakling he really was. He was a wreck and he had no way to fix it, especially not by talking about it. A loud rumble echoed in the empty space between them and she flung her hands up to her mouth, mumbling something that might have been an apology.

"You're hungry?" Steve asked and stood, carefully testing his limits and deciding he would be alright for now, as long as he didn't do something too strenuous like running or… laughing, apparently. Maybe he was getting worse. Shaking off that particular fear, he walked over to his pantry next to the sink, already knowing he didn't have much except cans of beans. And more beans. He slammed the door shut.

"It's okay," she said, too close by half. "I've already been such an imposition. I should go."

"Where?" he asked incredulously.

"I'll find something."

"Just walking out wearing those slacks," and he still wasn't convinced they were because of how tight they appeared, of how they showed off every curve, especially her rump. "Will get you in trouble. Might even get you arrested. And that's only if you don't run into another brute like last night."

Hermione glanced out the window, her left hand idly rubbing her right, just below her sprain.

"What else am I supposed to do? I can't stay locked up here forever and be a burden on you."

Steve had to admit she had a point, but an idea came to him and he smiled.

"I'll be right back."

He forced himself to walk more slowly than usual despite his excitement at the prospect. He wanted to help Hermione as much as he could. He owed her that much for not judging him where so many others had, for trusting him, and just being plain nice. He wasn't used to such companionship, save Bucky's, and admitted to himself he might be a bit drunk on it. Arriving at the flat downstairs, he tapped on the door lightly, smoothing down his clothes to make sure he looked proper. Maybe he should have checked his hair before leaving. He probably had bed-hair, but it was too late to do anything about that because the door cracked open, revealing his neighbour's surprised face.

"Steve? Is something wrong?"

"No?"

"It's awfully early," Maggie explained with a laugh as she opened the door wider. "You're lucky I have an early shift or I wouldn't have opened with such good grace."

Steve blushed. It wasn't the first time he ran headfirst with an idea in mind. Bucky said he was like a wild boar, nevermind that he had never seen a real one for himself before.

"I have a favour to ask," Steve admitted sheepishly, ducking his head.

Maggie nodded and beckoned him in. They'd been neighbours since forever, and she had been friends with his mom, had helped him take care of her when she was too sick to even move. Steve suspected Maggie still kept an eye on him, because he'd sometimes find baked goods waiting at his door when he'd hit a lean week. She always knew somehow.

"Those dresses Eliza outgrew…"

Maggie chuckled, cutting him off.

"She does look much more at ease in your mother's dresses. I still can't believe she's so tall. I don't know who she got it from. But what could you possibly want with girl's frills, Steven?"

"It's for a friend who just turned up. She lost everything… in a fire."

That was common enough, more so in the cramped wooden tenements they lived in. Maggie nodded in understanding.

"I kept a few of them that weren't too threadbare. Always someone who can use the material sooner or later."

She fetched him a small bundle and made him promise to introduce her to this mysterious friend of his. The way she said it… she either had the wrong idea, or was just very hopeful he had found someone. She was going to be quite disappointed in the near future, but Steve thanked her profusely for her help, even more so when she added a couple of biscuits on top of the pile of clothes for breakfast.

Hermione had cleaned herself up when he returned, her face pink from scrubbing and a couple of wet curls dangling around her face.

"Here, try these. They're from a neighbour's daughter."

She looked delighted, as if he'd just offered her diamonds instead of old, second-hand clothes. She really wasn't like other dames he had met.

"Thank you, Steve. I'm starting to wonder how I could have survived the Forties without you."

She left for the privacy of his bedroom to change, returning a mere five minutes later.

"I feel stupid," she said as she pulled on the hem of a pretty blue dress with tiny white flowers around the collar and sleeves.

Steve knew Maggie had embroidered them herself for her daughter so she would have at least one dress that wasn't too plain-looking compared to the ones her better-off friends wore. Eliza had looked good in that dress; Hermione looked better despite the bruises on her arm.

"You don't look stupid," Steve said, then kicked himself because that hardly sounded like a compliment. "I mean you look very, uhm, pretty."

Steve struggled to recall what Bucky had taught him to say to dames. Had he said pretty was too childish? Or was it lovely? He couldn't remember. He hadn't really paid attention because one dismissive look from the "date" Bucky had brought along for him and he knew it wasn't even worth the effort. Now, he wished he had listened.

"You're just saying that so I don't cause a riot outside in my trousers. It's upside-down-land around here."

"Dames don't wear dresses in the future?"

Steve couldn't wrap his mind around it, but he supposed it was probably far from the most important change so far in the future.

"I only wear them for special occasions. Some like wearing dresses and do everyday, but honestly, they're so much less practical. And drafty. And you're much more likely to get harassed wearing a skirt that trousers where I'm from."

She still looked uneasy in her new attire, although he couldn't fathom why, so he offered her a biscuit to divert whatever thought was bothering her and calm her rumbling stomach.

"What are you plans today?" she asked when she'd finished.

"Work. I have a few assignment to finish with the TA. I should probably leave soon… Will you be alright on your own?"

He hated to leave her, but if he wrapped up all his pending work today, he'd have enough cash to feed the both of them for a week.

"Yeah, sure. I'll figure something out."

Steve rummaged in the drawer of the table and found his spare key. Bucky had returned it before leaving for boot camp. Without hesitation, he pressed it into her hand. She opened it, eyes wide at the sight.

"You come back if you need, alright? I don't mind having you here… I like it, actually. I don't get much company nowadays."

He walked to the door, grabbing his coat from the hook and shrugging it on, glad for an excuse to hide his flushed face at what he'd just admitted outright.

"Steve?"

He turned around slowly. Hermione shuffled where she stood, wringing her hands, her eyes suspiciously wet. She huffed, then charged him, almost bowling him over as he stepped back against the door. Then her hands came around him. She was hugging him tightly, like a teddy bear.

"Thank you," she said against his neck, raising goosebumps where he could feel her breath.

Steve belatedly hugged her back, his heart beating much too fast. He wondered if a hug could cause heart failure.

Steve worried for Hermione all day while he was at work. He wondered what she was doing, hoping she was alright and taking it easy. She was still injured after all, even if she had seemed not to be in too much pain today. He was relieved when he finally washed his brushes and returned them to the supply cabinet at the end of the day. He didn't bother trying to get the paint off his hands. In his eagerness to finish all his projects today, he had gotten more paint on himself that usual. Instead, he went straight to the accounting office to get his pay. He'd stop on his way back for groceries so he could be a proper host and offer his guest something to eat. He had a nagging thought at the back of his mind that Hermione might not be there, might not ever return, that the possibility he would never seen her again was actually quite high, but he chose not to dwell on it.

When he finally made it back, his breathing was a bit short from the exertion of carrying more weight than usual with the grocery bags. He gave himself a minute to catch his breath in front of his own door and hesitated. Here, the illusion that he was not alone, that someone was waiting for him at home was still strong, but as soon as he opened that door, it could come crashing down around him. He couldn't hear anything inside, but standing there like a numbnut wasn't going to give him answers, so he took one deep breath and turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked, his heart skipped a beat as he pushed it open.

"Steve!" Hermione greeted him. "How was your day?"

He smiled at the welcome. She was like a ray of sunshine. He could get used to this.

"Fine. Got food so we don't have to eat those old beans."

She laughed and took the bags from him, setting them on the table.

"Don't diss the beans, Steve. They're alright in a bind."

True enough. He wondered if she'd ever been hungry enough to eat the dratted things. It made him worry about the future knowing that people would still go hungry, but maybe some things would never change: there were those who were rich and had never known the pangs of hunger, and those who were poor and lived with them daily.

"How did you fare today?" he asked instead.

"Good! I got hired," she said and his eyebrows shot up. That was fast. "And then I got fired. I'm a terrible waitress. I never realized it was such a difficult job."

"What happened?"

"Well, apparently men can slap my arse without anyone batting an eye, but I'm not allowed to slap them back for being pigs."

Steve was equal parts horrified and amused.

"Sorry you had to go through that."

She shrugged.

"I've known worse. Anyway, after I got kicked to the kerb, I applied to other places but seems word gets around pretty fast. Then I found this library, but they wouldn't hire a woman if you can believe that. It's not like men are all being shipped off to fight a bloody war. Besides, an orangutan could do the work they were hiring for, so I left, but bowled over a man on my way out and spilled his notes everywhere."

"I'm still waiting for the good part of your story," Steve noted as he unpacked the grocery bags. So far, her day sounded horrendous.

"Getting there," she said with a bright smile. "I apologized of course, and helped the bloke gather his notes, but I noticed a mistake in his translation just begging for me to correct it, so I pointed it out to him."

"Translation? From what?"

"Ancient Norse."

"Ancient… what?"

"Norse. You know, runes. I studied it at school."

"Is that a common subject in England?"

She shook her head.

"Not at all. And the man didn't even believe me at first. He dragged me into the library to check it out and had to admit I was right. And then he hired me."

"Just like that?" Steve asked incredulously. "What about references?"

"Well… I gave him your name and address. I hope that's alright?" Steve nodded. "I told him I had freshly arrived in New York with just the clothes on my back so I didn't have my credentials, which is actually the truth, and he gave me this weird look so I'm not sure what he thinks my background is, but he didn't pry anymore. I guess he was just relieved he had found an expert in Runes. It looked like he had been struggling, poor guy. Took him twenty minutes to verify that one rune, if you can believe it."

"So you're some sort of expert in Runes?"

"Amongst other things. Only problem is that he gave me this sheet to translate to convince his boss of my skills, but I can't write correctly with my left hand and my right is still too sore."

He watched the paper she had scribbled on, trying to read what he supposed should be english. He'd seen three years old with better penmanship and had to bite back a smile.

"Need help?"

"I knew I could count on my knight to come to the rescue once more."

Steve did his best not to show how pleased he was and rolled up his sleeves.

"At your command," he said as he sat in her still warm chair, pen at the ready.

Steve expected to write a few words now and then as she deciphered the runes. It looked like a code of small geometric shapes to him, but he found himself writing non stop as if she was merely a filter from one language to the next.

"Whoa, you're fluent. It's impressive. They'd be idiots not to take you on. Do you know how much work they have for you?"

"No. That's one point on which the bloke was rather cagey. But he seemed interested in the other languages I'm proficient at for future projects, so hopefully, I've secured my means of survival for as long as I'm here."

He wondered if she meant here, in this time, or here, in his flat, with him, but he was too much of a coward to ask outright. So he latched on to his next point of curiosity.

"Other languages?"

"Latin, ancient Egyptian, Greek, French and a smattering of Bulgarian, but I think it's the hieroglyphs they're most interested in. I wonder if the History books were right…"

She trailed off, deep in thought, while Steve was, ironically, struck speechless. He didn't know why. He had known from the start she was brighter than most people he knew, but he had not imagined she was so educated. Not many women were, and none that he knew.

"So you're really, really smart," he concluded, feeling inadequate on a whole other level.

"I've been told that, but then I go and do something incredibly stupid like getting lost in the Forties."

After folding the translation and slipping it in her coat for the next day, they prepared dinner together, talking easily about their day. Hermione wanted to know what he did exactly after teasing him about all the colourful splatters of paint on his hands and once he'd told her, she nagged him to show her his sketchbooks. He had no doubt she always got what she wanted, but he liked watching her flip through his old drawings. He was struck with a feeling his life had suddenly turned perfect, too perfect, and he truly feared what would happen when the penny dropped.

He felt bad letting her sleep on the old couch again, but she'd assured him she had slept on much worse. He had to wonder once more how the future was. Hearing her, it sometimes sounded as bleak at it was today.

"Legs! Clothes!" Steve squeaked the next morning when he found Hermione walking around half naked again with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Guess I should go shopping for some clothes. I need more knickers, too."

He slapped his hands on his ears.

"Too much information! Hermione, Jesus!"

She smirked and handed him a cup of coffee, so he was forced to relinquish his ears to whatever scandalous topic would next cross her lips. She hadn't strayed far however.

"What do women wear for bed here, anyway?"

"Nightgowns? I'm really not the best person to ask. Bucky would know."

"Ah, yes. The lady's man. But I think he skips the nightclothes entirely and just takes them to bed naked, right?"

"Hermione!"

She laughed.

"And my friends think I'm the prude one."

"Morals must have really loosened up in the future," he muttered.

"Yeah, guess you could say that."

Steve noticed her mood suddenly plummet.

"Do you have someone? From where you're from? If you disappeared so suddenly, they're going to be worried sick."

"Well… since I travelled back in time, I still have a chance of getting back to the same exact date I disappeared from, and no one would notice, except if I stay here too long and visibly age in which case it might be awkward to suddenly be so much older than my peers. So I guess it's lucky I don't have anyone who's really going to miss me."

"No one?"

She ticked off on her fingers.

"No boyfriend, no family, my friends are all married are popping out babies like they're going out of fashion so they're busy enough as it is, and my cat just died, the very night I disappeared…" She shook her head at the memory of poor Crooks all stiff in her arms, and forced a smile back on her face. "I guess my superior at work might notice my files piling up on my desk in a few more days."

Steve opened his mouth, raking his brain for something to say, but came up short. He hadn't expected to find someone even more lonely than he was.

"Don't bother," she said as if she'd read her mind. "I did that to myself, pushing people away. I-" she sighed. "There was a war and it took my parents away first. Then too many friends, and those that made it through were changed. I wasn't the same either. I couldn't look at the empty spaces where people should be without feeling guilty that I hadn't done more, tried harder-"

"The future doesn't sound any better than the present."

"It is, in some aspects, but humankind is cursed to repeat their errors, I guess. Come on, enough maudlin talk for now. Wish me luck for today?"