𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙔- [MAJOR EDITING]

TWENTY

"We can't leave you here alone, Mom," Sadie said, honestly.

"Call that sister of yours, she flew across the ocean to keep me company," Shan laughed. "And if you stay, all I'll do is sleep, and all you'll do is read those files of yours 'till your eyes fall out."

"Mom, I-"

"Steve, this woman needs dragging out of here," Shan said, matter-of-factly. "Take her to one-seventy second street. You're looking for Josephine's, on top of that old Louisiana kitchen. Tell her Shan sent you."

And that was that, it seemed. Sadie spent part of the car journey to the Heights making calls- to Savannah, to tell her their mom was awake, and Adrianne to confirm that yes, 'I don't mind taking the kids on Friday."

When Sadie had called Strange to say thank you, he'd responded that it didn't make up for the fact that she doubted his abilities to begin with. She'd argued that her distress the previous day wasn't a professional criticism, but a human worry. Strange, of course, took that with some skepticism.

The knowledge that her mother was getting healthier calmed Sadie in a way that was indescribable. To see Shan laughing and smiling, trying on the many different head wraps she'd requested Sadie bring her to keep her shaved head warm, and to see the progress of her condition confirmed- it was glory at its finest. And what was almost as glorious, was to have Steve Rogers in the driver's seat of her car, as they sang badly to radio tunes they didn't know the lyrics to.

When they reached Josephine's shop- or practise, Sadie felt was more the word- it was an adventure of itself, up rickety staircases and through bead curtains. Josephine was an interesting lady, who looked nothing at all like Sadie would expect.

She was pale skinned, with neat red hair and blue eyes, and she was quite young for the legends Sadie had heard. Her frame was large and voluminous, and her voice held a thick Scottish accent that stuck out in the sea of New York tones. It turned out that Shan's name pulled them no strings whatsoever, and they had to haggle for the price of even a five minute consultation. But Steve ended up striking them an impressive deal.

"Where did you learn those tricks?" Sadie asked him, quietly, as they followed Josephine through the shop. She caught sight of her reflection in a crystal ball and pulled a tongue at it.

"German occupied France," he shrugged. "Trying to get market stalls to take American dollars. Dernier, he was in the Commandos, used to translate- I could hardly speak a word of it then."

"And now?"

"Je suis un expert, ma chérie," Steve said, lowly, and her heart skipped a beat.

"That sounds pretty simple simple to me," she grinned. "Did being flirtatious work back then, too?"

"It's France, everyone's flirtatious," Steve said, but his smile didn't last long as he glanced around them. "I'll be honest, Sadie, I'm not sure about all this. She's leading us deeper and deeper into this place."

"Sit," Josephine said suddenly, as she sat herself down on a low stool in front of a table of reclaimed wood, and poured them two cups of tea.

"We're here now," Sadie said to Steve, settling herself down. He sat beside her.

"Give me your hand," the woman said, and Sadie complied. Steve was a little slower to. "Yours as well sir!"

Sadie grinned over at him as he reluctantly put his left hand forwards beside her right, palm up.

"If you're going to tell me I'll live a long life, I know that much already," Steve said, and Sadie held back her chuckle.

The palm reader smiled, with a certain twinkle in her eye. "Palm reading isn't to tell you how long you will live, sir. It's to tell you how you will live."