002 ✪ audio + action

[redactions]

Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide audio.
Action: On the moon.
When: Sept. 20th.

Good morning. This is Captain James Barnes. By now we've assessed the damage to the ships — seems like it only slowed us down some, and whoever the enemy was they don't seem to have followed us. That's not why I'm here.

[ a half-beat of pause, then, ]

We can't guarantee there'll always be shields or weapons aboard our ships at any given time. That doesn't mean we can't work out a system to make sure we're covering for each other in a fight. If we can form groups of two or three ships, at least one with weapons, and coordinate a few flying formations, we stand a much better chance.

As for communications, if they're taken offline like that again we are going to need a solution. We used manual signalling in my War; I'm open to options that don't have us scrambling blind during a crisis like that.

[ a beat ]

We got lucky, this time. We might not be again.

Barnes out.




→ shooting range

[ You know. This is simple. The pistols take getting used to, but it's a matter of practice. Assembly. Disassembly. Ready, aim, fire. One end of the shooting range is devoted entirely to Jim trying out all the variants he can get his hands on. They are laid on the table in front of him neatly. ]

[ All the shots hit the centre ring of the target, if not, damned closed. He's not concentrating too hard or scowling, just seems perfectly placid, and steady. When he feels eyes on him, ]

Sorry, did you want [ gesturing to the row of pistols ] one a'these?

→ some seedy bar

[ This alcohol is completely algae-free and that might be the entire reason he's even bothering with it. This place doesn't look quite as ripe for sudden violence either; but there's still murmuring in the background and a card game that looks like it might be heating up. ]

[ He's sitting alone, in the corner, nursing a glass. Another one sits beside him, completely untouched. It's always been for Steve. ]

Comments

[redactions]

[ A pistol that happens to be approximately the same weight as her famed Walther. Jim smiles at her. ]

I dunno; I bet you could charm the owner.

[ a beat ]

Yeah, he said I could use the range for free if I got these things workin'. They just needed some vigorous cleaning, s'all.

[mucked]

Industrious.

[ the chamber's empty. the gun isn't loaded, of course. but peggy raises it all the same, and makes a point to keep her finger off the trigger. she aims down the range's length -- eyes the distant targets, nodding to herself. ]

He told me you carry a piece of your own. Generally. [ the winter soldier. she's gleaned bits of information from him here and there. ] I thought the masterminds of this scheme stripped us of our weapons. So how did you manage that?

[redactions]

I got it from the armoury aboard the ship — [ he frowns ] nothing t'say we can't buy these, either. If folks on the other ships have swords and bows...

[ They aren't less dangerous. ]

They stripped me of my shield, but not my arm, or his.

[ His shield, which he wields as easily as a knife. ]

[mucked]

[ his shield. she doesn't want to think about it -- and half-believes she can still imagine the grooved feel of that particular metal beneath her fingertips. old memories, ghosting through the empty rooms of her head. peggy shakes her head and a curl slips loose. trust her, of course, to fuss with setting curls at night even now. ]

The arm is quite the piece of-- [ she finally comments on it, and only because he's finally brought it up of his own volition. ] Whose work is it?

[redactions]

Zola's.

[ This name is a thundercloud; nothing shows on his face. ]

Present to remember him by. I got it in '43. Stark — both of 'em — have had a look, it's safe.

[mucked]

[ friendship falls away. of course, it isn't that she doesn't feel it any longer -- it's there, buried under the work and the duty and the responsibility that now surfaces with a vengeance. the name might be a thundercloud to him, but for peggy it is an ancient call-to-arms. her expression glosses over as she does the math (tries to do the math) and is left with a chronology that is wanting. ]

Doesn't add up. [ she splays her fingers on the desk's surface -- holding them tense against the top. ] '43 shouldn't -- what about his. When did he get his?

[ two versions of the same story. she must work to sort them out. ]

[redactions]

[ And in some world, SHIELD goes through with Operation Paperclip and hands HYDRA a direct route to their heart. He frowns, almost tensing along with her, a product of being on the same battlefield for so long. ]

I didn't ask. It's not like he remembers.

[mucked]

There must be a way to learn it.

[ almost callous. indeed, after a moment, she must rein herself back in from the cold calculation of it all. this isn't an ssr office; it's his office. and he touts the shield, and she must dredge up some sort of respect for that beyond the natural affection already afforded him.

and some part of her knows she's speaking unfairly about a man under his protection. so to speak. so she sets the pistol aside and crosses her arms instead. ] In time. Eventually. I suppose that mystery isn't meant to be our priority. Not here.

[redactions]

[ He shakes his head; he knows where she's going with this. ]

There probably is. I checked it out as soon as he let me touch him [ which he offers as a goal for her too, that the Winter Soldier's trust can be earned to that extent ] it's clean, just some kind of kill-switch embedded in it. I'd remove it, but I don't know how.

[mucked]

Kill-switch. [ she plucks at the word with care. round vowels and crisp consonants. peggy shakes her head, because she doesn't like the sound of it. whatever other problems she might have with both men (and whatever nascent affection she feels), there are some concepts that supersede the personal. ]

A switch for what? The arm, or the man? [ her eyes narrow. it's an important distinction -- because she isn't quite certain whether barnes is implying the arm includes its own stylized cyanide pill. ]

[redactions]

Both. It has some kind of receiver, and a manual switch. Flip it, and he's in agony.

[ His mouth presses into a thin line. ]

I wouldn't be surprised if that's not the end of it.

[mucked]

[ peggy says nothing. not a word passes her lips, but she glances -- pointedly -- and his arm. the one she'd touched, held, accepted on minor occasions with minor fanfare ever since they'd first met face-to-face.

please, god, tell me yours lacks this particular feature. the silent question ripples through her expression like a stiff breeze through leaves. ]

[redactions]

[ Except he can't read her like he once did, and he looks at it, then at her. ]

What? What's wrong?

[mucked]

You share things. You and he. [ pistol abandoned -- long before it was ever fired. she reaches for his shoulder (reckless, perhaps, but she's governed by more than mere sensibility) and should he fail to flinch away she can feel the the rigid structure beneath his sleeve. ]

Different paths, perhaps. But you've both got this. [ it twists her gut to feel so much personal concern over a man who never quite existed in her experience. he is like the unknown offshoot of a familiar river. ] Have you got a kill-switch, too, James?

[redactions]

[ He is inhumanly still as her hand presses his sleeve and the ridges of the underlying plates show in the creases of the fabric. ]

No, they didn't have time to install one. I got lucky.

[ Lucky he didn't fall. Lucky he survived encased in ice. Lucky it's another man who doesn't deserve suffering, instead of him. Damn his luck. ]

[mucked]

[ the moment is intimate. friendly. and after a heartbeat or three, it passes. her fingers linger long enough to identify the existence of plates -- like a lobster shell -- encasing the space that should have housed only flesh. but before her touch outstays its welcome, she retreats. they are islands again. ]

Lucky, indeed. [ dry. ] Is it permanent?

[ that is, was it fused to him? or was it like any number of prosthetic pieces that cropped up after the war in that it could be set aside. she expects not, but the question is worth asking. ]

[redactions]

[ She could've held on a little longer, or asked to see it. He wouldn't have minded; but this bridge is still being built, and a need for familiar and warm touch can be set aside. ]

Yes. The shoulder section hasn't been replaced with a newer model. I couldn't explain the specifics to you.

[mucked]

Couldn't and shouldn't. I'm not an engineer -- and it's enough to know it's there for good. [ she can't help but remember what jim had said about winter having allowed him to touch the arm. and when she thinks on it, her one hand tightens around the other. navigating these new boundaries--! ]

[redactions]

[ There's a moment where he says and does nothing, and then, you know, he's had a lot of those moments recently. ]

[ Softly, ] Do you want to see it?

[mucked]

Yes. [ a little too quick; a little too honest. peggy inhales, and lets her shoulders drop. ] I can't say I'm not...curious.

[redactions]

[ A different man (Bucky) would've made a joke, about being a prime cute of meat. It's in poor taste, considering the Winter Soldier. Jim just smiles at her, ruefully. ]

All right. Now, or later? We'll have to go somewhere more private.

[mucked]

[ she almost wishes he would be the different man -- and make the joke. there's a tension to the moment that screams for a bit of relief, and she can't help but think about the soldier who would once have seized upon the turned phrase. over time, she'd grown to welcome his playful crass remarks. because he meant them well. because he knew his lines in the sand. because they'd been friends, he and her.

her and him. not this man, she must remind herself. not this barnes. ]

One clip. [ she diffuses her own uncertainty by reaching for the pistol once again. ] Wait for me to shoot one clip and, if you're amenable, we'll find a closed door.

[redactions]

[ A chance to watch her shoot, and be reminded of a better time? He gestures, airily, to the lane. ]

Be my guest, Agent Carter.

[mucked]

[ equilibrium is gained when she slots the magazine smoothly into the pistol. everything clicks into place. a round is chambered, and she cocks her elbow: muzzle down, just in case. ]

Watch carefully, Captain. [ bittersweet. she knows he's the better shot -- but only by a narrow margin. it's the narrowest margins that count the most in sharp-shooting. gun up, she breathes out. squeezes the trigger once twice three times.

three percussive blasts later and her bullet-holes have married themselves to a few of his -- piercing near enough as to make the holes seem misshapen and imperfect. ]

[redactions]

[ Softly, as she fires her first shot, ] I'm always watching.

[ But that fades, and the world becomes this lane, with Peggy at one end showing off her marksmanship, which never faded over the years. It's no direct transport back to the War — he hates going there. It's a step, a bubble out of time. Them both on a foreign planet, a universe away from home, finding it here in the squeeze of a trigger, the meeting of bullet to target. ]

Impressive. We should have a contest, sometime, three of us.

[ The Winter Soldier can join them. ]