"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."
Well, that had been a damn lie, hadn't it. It seemed that the instant Bucky had left her for good, the second he shipped off for real, Steph went and did something monumentally stupid: she signed up to be a test subject for a military project so secret that she didn't even understand what it was supposed to be when she signed her name on the dotted line.
Look. She's not stupid, despite all evidence to the contrary. Without Bucky around to help her cover rent, with her ill health preventing her from getting factory work, without generous family members around who might bail her out in an emergency, the best she could hope to scrounge up to survive on would be a single bed in a boarding house full of other women, someplace probably damp and crowded, with no heat in the winter and no shade in the summer, somewhere that would only make her already numerous health problems even worse.
What did she have to lose?
Nothing. Which is why she let herself be assessed by a parade of scientists, why she hardened her expression and didn't react when she could hear them talking about "wasting the serum on someone like her," why she didn't let herself think about the possibility that maybe Bucky would come home after all, and what if something happened to her instead? He'd be furious with her for getting herself offed somehow when his back was turned, but she couldn't focus on that thought at the time. Besides, he was doing exactly that to her, wasn't he?
Stepping into that iron coffin had felt like dying for real. Her overwhelming memories of that day are ones of excruciating pain, the kind that makes you think that Hell is real, the kind that tears you out of your own head in an effort to save your mind while your body gets ripped apart and re-made.
Colonel Phillips was pleased to see her stagger out of Stark's contraption. If that serum could turn a weak little runt like her into a movie star, then think of what it could do for an actual soldier. Think of what an asset it would be, to have an entire squadron of men that were taller, broader, stronger than the average soldier. Think of how quickly they could win the war!
It's hard to think back to that day, and not just because she had to watch Dr Erskine bleed out beneath her feet as her body buzzed with adrenaline and sweat cooled at the hollow of her throat. It feels like a million years ago, even though she knows it's only been a few months. It feels like it happened to a different person. She knows she's lucky that the army decided to make her useful instead of locking her in some lab somewhere to let people run tests on her to try and recreate Dr Erskine's work. She's grateful she's not spending her days strapped to a table under a bright light while her blood is stolen and bits of her are excised.
But does she really have to do high-kicks all the time?
At least the other girls are sweet to her. There's a little awkwardness, sometimes, since Steph isn't really very good at all the peripherals of womanhood — she can put on her own makeup, more or less, but she's hopeless at doing her own hair, and has to beg some of the other girls to help her set it every night — but they get along well enough, and she's never dropped a single dancer when she lifts them up over her head, not even once. It's kind of nice, having girlfriends. She still desperately misses Bucky, though.
Maybe after the show tonight she can ask around, see if anyone has any idea where the 107th is stationed. Even if they're not on part of her tour, she might be able to get someone to get a letter to him, wherever he is. She hopes he's being safe. He better be, or she's going to kill him.
The opening chords for her act start to play, deafeningly loud from the speakers set nearby, and she shakes herself out of her idle thoughts. Linking pinkies with the girls she'll be dancing with, she lets them complete the ritual she's grown so used to after all these shows, each of them leaning in to kiss the air above the other's cheek so no makeup is smudged, a quick good-luck before they dart on stage.
Taking a steadying breath, Stephanie tosses her hair over her shoulders, straightens her spine, and sweeps on stage. ]
this got a little long... oops
"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."
Well, that had been a damn lie, hadn't it. It seemed that the instant Bucky had left her for good, the second he shipped off for real, Steph went and did something monumentally stupid: she signed up to be a test subject for a military project so secret that she didn't even understand what it was supposed to be when she signed her name on the dotted line.
Look. She's not stupid, despite all evidence to the contrary. Without Bucky around to help her cover rent, with her ill health preventing her from getting factory work, without generous family members around who might bail her out in an emergency, the best she could hope to scrounge up to survive on would be a single bed in a boarding house full of other women, someplace probably damp and crowded, with no heat in the winter and no shade in the summer, somewhere that would only make her already numerous health problems even worse.
What did she have to lose?
Nothing. Which is why she let herself be assessed by a parade of scientists, why she hardened her expression and didn't react when she could hear them talking about "wasting the serum on someone like her," why she didn't let herself think about the possibility that maybe Bucky would come home after all, and what if something happened to her instead? He'd be furious with her for getting herself offed somehow when his back was turned, but she couldn't focus on that thought at the time. Besides, he was doing exactly that to her, wasn't he?
Stepping into that iron coffin had felt like dying for real. Her overwhelming memories of that day are ones of excruciating pain, the kind that makes you think that Hell is real, the kind that tears you out of your own head in an effort to save your mind while your body gets ripped apart and re-made.
Colonel Phillips was pleased to see her stagger out of Stark's contraption. If that serum could turn a weak little runt like her into a movie star, then think of what it could do for an actual soldier. Think of what an asset it would be, to have an entire squadron of men that were taller, broader, stronger than the average soldier. Think of how quickly they could win the war!
It's hard to think back to that day, and not just because she had to watch Dr Erskine bleed out beneath her feet as her body buzzed with adrenaline and sweat cooled at the hollow of her throat. It feels like a million years ago, even though she knows it's only been a few months. It feels like it happened to a different person. She knows she's lucky that the army decided to make her useful instead of locking her in some lab somewhere to let people run tests on her to try and recreate Dr Erskine's work. She's grateful she's not spending her days strapped to a table under a bright light while her blood is stolen and bits of her are excised.
But does she really have to do high-kicks all the time?
At least the other girls are sweet to her. There's a little awkwardness, sometimes, since Steph isn't really very good at all the peripherals of womanhood — she can put on her own makeup, more or less, but she's hopeless at doing her own hair, and has to beg some of the other girls to help her set it every night — but they get along well enough, and she's never dropped a single dancer when she lifts them up over her head, not even once. It's kind of nice, having girlfriends. She still desperately misses Bucky, though.
Maybe after the show tonight she can ask around, see if anyone has any idea where the 107th is stationed. Even if they're not on part of her tour, she might be able to get someone to get a letter to him, wherever he is. She hopes he's being safe. He better be, or she's going to kill him.
The opening chords for her act start to play, deafeningly loud from the speakers set nearby, and she shakes herself out of her idle thoughts. Linking pinkies with the girls she'll be dancing with, she lets them complete the ritual she's grown so used to after all these shows, each of them leaning in to kiss the air above the other's cheek so no makeup is smudged, a quick good-luck before they dart on stage.
Taking a steadying breath, Stephanie tosses her hair over her shoulders, straightens her spine, and sweeps on stage. ]