driftfleet | ( video )

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Who: Peggy Carter and YOU.
Broadcast: Fleet-wide, from inside the Marsiva.
Action: Y, for any other newcomers between now and the Shuffle.
When: This Week.

[ let us not dwell too long upon the awkward silences and humiliating nascent moments of agent carter's awakening. let it only be said that she woke with a start (despite the afforded comfort) and the broadcast didn't quite zoom in close enough to adequately witness the depth of her horror when she first raised a tentative hand to her forehead only to find an empty glass vial still sitting there. steve's blood had been poured away: returned to his native lands by way of the east river. both guilty and triumphant, she pockets the vial in her blazer and tells herself it's a problem for another time. after all--- ]

Bollocks. [ mistaking herself for a person alone, she swears. loudly and colourfully as she crosses the bay and knocks her knuckles against the too-intact viewing window separating herself from the rest of creation -- and no familiar blue-and-green marble in sight. peggy swears again: bollocks, damnit, and hell. unable to peer into the void for much longer, she turns her back on oblivion and is confronted once more with the too-sterile hospitality deck. she may be a tidy and precise sort of woman, but this much tidiness and precision makes her stomach turn. where is the stink of new york? the heat? the mess? the humanity?

feeling charged with purpose, she springs into (moderate) action. feeling alarmingly comfortable with technology she swears she's never seen before, she plays her fingers across a panel she doesn't know will connect her to the rest of a whol damned fleet -- but she's left with the burning certainty that it'll connect her with someone. imperiously: ]

I would speak with the individual -- or individuals -- in charge of this operation. Believe me when I stress there is a whole bloody cavalcade of laws, both domestic and international, you're breaking by holding me here. I demand to...

[ some of the fire floods from her belly. a little desperate, she changes tactics: ] Is anyone there? Hello?

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Just as you said: helpful.

[ after a moment, she prods the communications device with a kind of curious and clumsy inquiry. the speaker crackles into existence. peggy can't leave well enough alone, and she asks: ] Can't you speak?

[ The sudden voice throws him off, causing him to drop the communicator. He fumbles with it, pressing the button on the side, choosing his words. ]

I can speak.

-- So why didn't you? [ why, she wonders, did he not want to speak? there's something to be discovered (she thinks) in the reasons why he might have chosen to communicate textually first.

but then again, she doesn't yet understand the depth of what they stripped away from him. ]

The other way is easier.

[ Maybe no one else will really understand exactly why the text communications are easier for him. They're comfortable, and he can think about how he needs to reply before actually doing it.

It's a precaution. Tells are harder to see in a written message. ]

I suppose it is. [ easier. peggy sounds tired -- quite above and beyond the problem of space-travel, she must swallow a brace of other bitter pills. ] But we don't do ourselves any favours by only taking the easy ways, Mister Winter.

[ she nearly chokes on the name. ]

[ He's quiet for a few moments and sighs wearily before actually responding. ]

..No. I understand.

Nor any favours to those around us. [ ... ] Besides, I had to hear your voice.

[ had to hear it for herself. ]

My voice? Why?

I thought I mind find it recognizable, Mister Winter. [ and she did. just barely, if she's honest. it doesn't harbour the same tones as the man she once knew via the commandos. but a spy's ear must be trained and keen, and she can spot the similarities lurking below his laconic syllables. ]

Did you find what you were looking for?

[ She doesn't look or sound the type to be involved with HYDRA-- which is where his mind instantly goes. She's fishing for information without really asking questions, and it makes him more than a little wary. ]

I did, I'm afraid.

[ and it makes her very sad -- confused, a little out of sorts, and very sad. ]

Sorry for the disappointment.

[ It doesn't hurt quite as much as the thought of disappointing Jim, but the feeling still sits heavily in the pit of his stomach. ]

If the man calling himself a Captain is being honest, then I understand the disappointment isn't your fault.

[ hydra. oh, she has a hate for them. ] But if he's being honest, then you and I knew each other once.

[ Winter seriously considers not responding. His frustration at not having anything save for his training before his last mission is really starting to wear on him. He can feel that there should be more, but nothing is really forthcoming, no matter what he tries.

He does think Jim's stories are helping somehow, though..

Steeling himself, he switches the feed over to video so he can at least read her face for deception. ]

I wouldn't know, really. There isn't much I can remember.

[ and peggy, in turn, doesn't hide the hardness in her face. she doesn't play this conversation false -- because why should she lean into deception when so many of her cards are already in play with the other barnes?

there is a wrinkle on her brow. not a softening, but a slackening instead. she has to digest his appearance. ]

He told me as much. [ ... ] They took it from you.

[ He isn't suspecting her of deceit, her voice has been fairly even through their conversation.. But he has to make sure. He has to assure himself of this one connection.

Perhaps the biggest difference between Jim and himself is the haggard appearance. Worn down, expression on the edge of blank. There's a distinct lack of life in his eyes, though they're not quite so dead as they used to appear.

Peggy will at least be able to pick up the noise the plates of his arm makes as he shifts position. ]

They did.

The bastards.

[ perhaps (once upon a time) she would be less forgiving. less pliant to providing her cool cold mercy to even him. but she'd watched what leviathan could do -- what that man could make men believe. had watched what dooley had done under the influence of another's evil. and if the story pans out, then that is precisely the sort of ruination that had befallen her old comrade.

she isn't at ease. far from it. but she knows where to put the blame. ]

[ He offers her a faint nod, not sure what else to say in the moment. She's not pleased- not by a long shot- but there's nothing he can do about that.

What's done is done, and in the event he does get to go home, well.. he's still stuck in the situation. ]

[ there isn't much else to say, is there? except, perhaps, in a smallish sort of voice: ] It ought never to have happened.

..Maybe not. Nothing changes it now, though.

[ Whether it ought to have happened or not is..debatable. Something in his gut says it was unavoidable one way or the other. Perhaps it's the paranoia setting in. ]

...True enough, I suppose.

[ storm clouds pass over her voice. whatever else might be done -- and however different the other barnes is -- this one has still had his very identity cannibalized by institutional evil. and yet she finds him more civilized than she'd anticipated. ]

[ Oh Peggy, if only you knew. The storm tends to start beneath the surface, and he's very good at keeping emotion off of his face.

While the ice has melted a fraction while he's been away from HYDRA, he's still what they've made him into. It's remarkable what difference can be made of letting the mind heal from grievous injury. ]

I would rather not discuss it..

-- We needn't discuss it. Any of it. Simple enough. [ her cheeks puff out. she sighs. little signs of stress on the surface of a woman more accustomed to keeping herself...ironed. controlled.

silence hangs between them -- crackling on the airwaves because she doesn't know how to qualify her sharp staccato sentences. doesn't know how to tell him the craving she experiences: to still discuss other things with him, and at greater length. but that desire is a selfish one, because he's not the same man who once would have shared her grief without guile. ]

...Thank you.

[ He's not quite sure what to say in the silence, but he does feel pressed to say something. Winter worries his lower lip between his teeth as he tries to think of anything in order to keep talking to her. He's compelled.

This silence doesn't feel as companionable as it is with Jim, but it's not the worst feeling.. ]

When you get stationed-- [ He pauses. ] You're welcome to visit?

[ am i? she almost asks. a welcome wasn't precisely what she expected. but gift-horses have mouths, and she's no dentist. so why should she stare too long into its maw? ]

I think I might like that. [ hesitation. ] I confess, I'm curious.

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