oblivion. ▷ captain america. [1] •••DISCONTINUED•••

iii ▷ the procedure.

T H R E E

03. | the procedure.
don't forget to breathe

steve.

•

AFTER THE conversations I had with Genevieve and Doctor Erskine last night, I've been feeling a whole lot better about all this. This morning was a little rough; I got the jitters and almost gave myself a panic attack, but all is still pretty good.

I ride in a car with Agent Carter in the passenger seat next to the driver and Doctor Edwards sits to my left in the backseat. We're driving through a city that I know all too well, and I can't help but tell them that.

"I know this neighborhood," I say, nostalgia flowing through me.

"Really?" Genevieve asks sweetly.

I smile. "Yeah. I got beat up in that alley. And that parking lot. And behind that diner."

"Did you have something against running away?" Agent Carter inquires from in front of me, turning around in her seat to face me.

I shake my head. "They'll never let you stop. You stand up, you push back. Can't say no forever, right?"

Genevieve scoffs, glancing down to her lap. "I used to get beaten up in school," she mumbles. Her sad expression turns into a soft and heartwarming giggle. "It was because I was a whole lot smarter than them, mostly because of their lack of brain cells."

I laugh. She doesn't seem like the type to get teased or beat up. She's too nice or too aggressive for most people to deal with. After seeing her with Hodge the other day, she doesn't take anyone's trash.

"I know a little of what that's like, to have every door shut on your face," Agent Carter pipes up.

That makes me even sadder. Both of them? How? "I guess I just don't know why you would want to join the army if you're beautiful dames. Or— or beautif— women. A doctor/agent and an agent, not dames. You are both beautiful, but—"

Genevieve shakes her head, laughing softly at my attempt.

"You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" Agent Carter asks.

"I think that's one of the longest conversations I've had with one," I smile. Last night was longer and more meaningful, but I've barely spoken directly to a woman for a few seconds let alone fifteen minutes and two feet away from each other.

My smile falls. "Women aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy that might step on 'em," I mumble.

"You must have danced," Agent Carter says.

"Not everyone has, Peggy," Genevieve mutters under her breath. I'm guessing she hasn't either, so I definitely feel more comfortable.

"Well, asking a woman to dance always seems so terrifying. And the past few years, it just didn't seem to matter that much," I say. "Figured I'd wait."

Genevieve nods, glancing out of her window as she pulls the sleeves of her uniform down to her palms. "For the right partner, right?" she asks.