letterblade

So I have found, like, NO canon info on personality and so forth for Reinstein-Erskine. And after a while I just kind of said, oh, fuck it, it's an AU and it's Blogathon, I'll write him how I like. So this may be WTF. But. It suits my porpoises.

*****

Virginia, Camp Lehigh, winter of 1942

"Why are you here?"

The man behind the desk isn't wearing a uniform. Lab coat and glasses. He's got a folder in front of him. Stella stands in the door, watches the genuine bewilderment on his face.

"Because I want to know how I can help, sir."

"I'm not an officer," he says. His voice is gentle and he sounds, frankly, exhausted. He has a thick accent that she can't quite place. "You don't have to call me sir, Miss--" He frowns faintly, shuffles on his desk.

"Rogers."

"Miss Rogers." She hesitates for a moment. "Are you a doctor?"

"A medical doctor, yes."

"I'm not a nurse."

He smiles wryly. "That's what they told me. That there's a girl hanging about looking for work who isn't a nurse." She realizes, suddenly, what his accent is making her think. He looks at her like he could read it right off her face. "And, yes, I am German. I defected when Hitler invaded Poland. The thing I was working on--could not go into his hands. Instead, I entrusted it to America. Your people. I have been given trust at the highest levels, I can assure you."

For some reason, that makes her feel oddly proud. "I--well, thank you. But I still don't understand why..."

"Why you're here? I don't suppose you want to work as a lab assistant either, would you?"

She thinks about it, but only for a moment. "No."

"I thought not." He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "You look like the sick boys who get rejected. Come in all hoping to save your free world, told that they're not good enough to be useful just because of the body they're trapped in." Looks back up at her with the sun coming in the window behind him. "What do you want to do? Air traffic control? Technical maintenance? They're thinking of deploying ladies in all sorts of places..."

"I want to save the world," she says. Doesn't feel silly saying it, either; he said it first.

"That's about what I thought."

"Well, I...I wish I could help you."

She looks down for a bit. Finds herself smiling wryly just like he does. "They all say that."

"They do, I'm sure. I'm sorry. I..."

He closes a folder with a rustle of paper, shoves his chair back, and stands.

"Would a lovely American girl who wants to save the world find it in herself to honor a completely forward request from a tired old German man?"

He isn't that old, Stella thinks. Just humble. "What do you mean?"

"May I--take you for dinner?"

She feels herself turning faintly, faintly pink.

"Just dinner," he adds, sounding hurried. "It isn't often that I meet a lady who wants to save the world."

She used to know boys down on the docks. It's not like she doesn't know when a man wants too much of her, and she's damn sure he doesn't, much as that surprises her. And it's been so long since she's had anyone--be like this to her. "I suppose so, then, Doctor--"

"Reinstein. Josef Reinstein." He rounds the desk, offers his hand. "But please, if you don't mind, call me Josef."

She takes his hand. He shakes, pleasantly, as if among equals, then raises it. Not to his lips. Just a foot or so, and a little bow of his head, as if to merely indicate his intent, not take the liberty.

"Stella," she says, with a smile.

*****

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