Stephanie Grace Rogers found herself flat on her back in an unfamiliar clearing, staring up at the sky and surrounded by strange machinery.
Before that, she'd been on her way to the Army Nurse Corps' recruitment office in Queens, prepared to make the lie of her life. But she'd been mugged in the alley by a blonde woman in a strange suit. "I'm sorry, but you have to disappear," the woman had said in a voice that Steph could swear was familiar but just couldn't put a finger on. Then she'd blacked out.
Groaning, she rolled to her side, then let out a hacking cough that sounded like she was about to spit out a lung. It took her a moment to realize that her things were gone; her satchel, her falsified application form, her sketchpad and pencils, Bucky's letters. It took another for her to notice that she wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore, instead it was the mugger's weird suit that was several sizes too big on her, and that a crumpled piece of paper had been stuffed into her right fist.
She unfolded it only to see her own handwriting.
Buck,
I hope you'll forgive me one day. But I have to try.
If I don't return, then in at least one timeline I have saved you from your fate.
Yours, Steph
"What the fuck?" said Stephanie Grace Rogers, the one who never became Captain America, the lovesick dying girl from 1945.
@hadagreatpast
Before that, she'd been on her way to the Army Nurse Corps' recruitment office in Queens, prepared to make the lie of her life. But she'd been mugged in the alley by a blonde woman in a strange suit. "I'm sorry, but you have to disappear," the woman had said in a voice that Steph could swear was familiar but just couldn't put a finger on. Then she'd blacked out.
Groaning, she rolled to her side, then let out a hacking cough that sounded like she was about to spit out a lung. It took her a moment to realize that her things were gone; her satchel, her falsified application form, her sketchpad and pencils, Bucky's letters. It took another for her to notice that she wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore, instead it was the mugger's weird suit that was several sizes too big on her, and that a crumpled piece of paper had been stuffed into her right fist.
She unfolded it only to see her own handwriting.
"What the fuck?" said Stephanie Grace Rogers, the one who never became Captain America, the lovesick dying girl from 1945.