La Petite Fleur

Fin

With the target in Dallas taken care of, he moved on to the target in Charleston, South Carolina. Curse this mission, he thought as he crouched on a rooftop. Not that hiding would do him that much good. Gazing down, he noticed the layout of the streets. Just another difference between modern, ever-changing America and the steadfast European beauty of Paris. Unbidden, he recalled a night on the coast, leaning with his elbows on the side of a bridge, Antoinette beside him. Her skirt got caught in the breeze, but she didn't seem to mind. Lights in the city, lights lining the roads, lights reflected on the water. A purple sunset and a velvety night sky over the Mediterranean. He could almost hear the soothing sound of the tide, like the ocean inhaling and exhaling, and with every exhale, pushing foam onto the white sand.

He was so lost in memory that he almost didn't feel a bullet ricochet off a metal roof and graze his arm. Almost. In an instant, he had raised his shield and heard another muffled gun shot. Whoever was shooting was using a silencer. Wise, he thought. So they don't want to cause panic.

Tracing the path of the bullet backwards, he glimpsed the black uniform of the shooter. Without thinking, Steve leapt off the roof and raced across the next. He tucked his legs close to his body and rolled through an open window. The shooter couldn't get the evidence of his mission packed fast enough. With one hit from his shield, he watched the man slump to the ground. Target finished. He found a heavy piece of furniture to place across the man's chest to pin him long enough for the police to come.

Finished, Steve made his way to the nearest SHIELD base and caught a Quinjet back to New York. Antoinette had been in the city for an entire week by this time. An entire week he hadn't heard from her and hadn't been able to contact her either. How was she doing? Had the ballet gone well? Had she been disappointed he couldn't be there? Surely someone had explained his situation to her? Would she act as cold and aloof as she had in France?

His fears were dispelled when he arrived in the lounge and was greeted by cheers, laughter, and a glass of Tony's best scotch. "What are we celebrating?" he asked, certain it wasn't his arrival. "You guys are never this happy to see me."

"Oh, it's not you we care about," Natasha laughed, raising her own glass of scotch. "Tony would kill us if we opened this bottle for you."

"Naw, this is for Antoinette," Clint chimed in. "Why don't you tell him?" He smiled and gestured with the one arm not supporting his reclining frame. Between him and Thor, and appearing dwarfed beside the Asgardian, Antoinette set down her drink and rushed to give Steve a hug.

"Hey, it's good to see you again. How did it go? Your last performance, huh?"

She shook her head, blonde hair flying. "Not at all! I 'ave audition for ze American Ballet Theatre! Zey need a principle dancer, and a turner, and I am both et je ne peux pas croire qu'ils demanderaient pour moi, mais ils ont vu la performance et m'a demandé en personne, il au théâtre d'auditionner pour eux! C'est demain!"

Steve understood enough to congratulate her and return the hug. "That's great!"

"Well, don't just stand there," Clint scoffed. "Come celebrate!"

The night continued in laughter, games, jokes, and plenty of Tony's good scotch. By the time the clocks displayed past midnight, Banner and Thor had left and Clint was too drunk to string two words together. Natasha excused herself and Clint, dragging him off the couch with plenty of threats and Russian curses. Now alone, Steve faced Antoinette. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here to welcome you back-"

"It is your job." She interrupted with a nod and a tired smile. "I understand. And I am 'appy you are safe."

"Thank you. Still, I'd like to make it up to you somehow. Maybe we could go sightseeing together after your audition?"

"Zat is not necessary," she said, shaking her head. Her accent thickened the more drinks she'd had. "I would love to sight see with you, but you do not 'ave to make it up to me."

"I insist."

"If you are that stubborn, then there is something you can do."

"Anything," he replied, easily.

"Will you dance with me?"

Steve hesitated. He had never danced before. Hadn't he told Peggy- Peggy. He had promised Peggy she could teach him to dance. It was too late for that now. After so many years, after decades of waiting, wishing, regretting, and reliving old memories, maybe...maybe he could find a new dance partner. Maybe it was time he let go of the forties and embraced this crazy century.

"I've never danced before," he warned her.

"Zat is okay. I will teach you." Antoinette stood and took his large hand in both her smaller hands. More than an hour ago, she had taken off her shoes and let her hair down from its braid, and even tipsy, every movement was graceful.

Nodding, Steve let her pull him to his feet. "Okay. But I'm apologizing now if I step on your toes."

She giggled and led him to an open space in the lounge where they would have room to dance. Jarvis- that sneaky robot- changed the music playing to something soft and lilting. "You place your hands..." She set both of his hands on her waist. "And I..." Both of her hands reached up to his shoulders. "Start with your right foot."

After a pause to match the music, they stepped together. The first few minutes were a bit awkward, but once Steve got the hang of it, Antoinette could look up from her feet without worrying about her toes. Laying her head on his chest, she closed her eyes and relaxed. He could feel her breathing slow down as they turned and swayed. Too soon, the song ended and she lifted her head. For some reason, Steve didn't want to let go just yet. "Hey, Jarvis, play us another like that. I think I need more practice."

Briefly, Antoinette tilted her head to look at him. "You are da- ahhhh, yes, more practice would be nice." With a nymphean smirk, she nodded. "Oui. Another slow song, s'il te plait."

Again, they danced in the peaceful atmosphere, uninterrupted by worries, missions, or past mistakes. This time, when the music faded and Antoinette raised her eyes to Steve's, he didn't hesitate to bend and gently kiss her.

When he straightened, he realized Antoinette was smiling in a way he'd never seen before. Not triumphantly like after a good performance, or jovially like after Clint told a joke, but blissfully. "I think," she whispered. "I like New York."

I do too, he decided. And for once, he wasn't imagining the Brooklyn of the forties, but the Manhattan outside the windows, a city he finally felt comfortable calling 'home'.