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]

[ 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. ]

[mucked]

[ the three of us. hm, like some sort of family outing -- the doppelgangers and their...their what? what is she to them, in the end? no more than a ghost of a friend. they're all ghosts, here. suggestions of other realities. if she hadn't been so focused on her stance and position, peggy would have shivered.

aloud, she tells a different story: ] Ah, so my aim might be put to shame by two of you. Sounds delightful.

[ crass, perhaps, to talk about them as if they are one and the same. they're not; she knows it. but this sort of flinty humour behaves much like his own blunt flirtation. it deflects and redirects and mirrors the more serious moments away from herself. it's a sin committed in self-defense.

peggy squeezes off two more shots. ] And yet I'd not be opposed, all the same.

[redactions]

[ But they are one and the same, the outside doesn't match the inside, for both of them. Two winter soldiers, only one named for such. ]

Hey! I can't help perfection!

[ It slips out before he really has a chance to stop it. A brag worthy of Bucky, in his cheekier hours, but Jim doesn't clamp down on his mouth, just sort of looks at her with mild surprise, before he nods briskly and decides that yes, that's exactly what he was going to say. ]

[mucked]

[ she pauses before her final shot. ]

Nor your braggadocio, neither -- [ and peggy smiles. it's the first fully felt smirk since she'd suffered the misfortune of waking with this fleet. and this self-same smirk is the finest accompaniment for the last bullet's sharp report. the round buries itself deep in the target's centre: her one bullseye of the clip.

gently (reverently) she sets the gun aside. something about 'bucky' puts her more at ease than this far-more-staid captain barnes. the smirk still lingers at the edge of her mouth when she turns to face him full-on. ] God, that felt good.

[ a bare sort of line, wiggling like a worm on a hook intended to snare herself another buckyism in the face of so much jim. ]

[redactions]

[ He can only see the side of it from where he's standing, and when she turns the effect is profound. Like drowning, gladly, in familiar waters. The ever-present tension in him has almost completely dissipated: he's unfrozen in time. ]

Oh, I've ways of making it even better.

[ He winks at her, roguishly, and then he dissolves into soft laughter. ]

God, how did you stand me?

[mucked]

Your novelty has yet to wear off.

[ sharp, but delighted. like a well-honed knife slicing through leagues and light-years. if she were to try hard enough, she might even believe herself to be back in europe -- unbroken, still. ]

Give it another week. Two, at most. Make hay while you still can, James.

[ her behaviour isn't quite girlish. instead, it's comradely. it stinks of campfire smoke and burning powder. and perhaps it's injected just enough comfort into the moment that she can face the concept of his metal arm with a lot more compassion and considerably less distance. ]

[redactions]

[ It's a carte blanche; an invitation to keep to the tune that's started to play, and he treasures it deeply. Peggy's gentle, warm, entirely of her own volition and not — pity. Not shared grief. ]

A bouquet wouldn't be out of order. Perhaps a candlelit dinner? I take it you enjoy a slow waltz.

[ The right partner. He's not it, the other Nat has the claim on his heart. But there's no harm in dancing, when it's been a long, long time. ]

[mucked]

[ -- she expects her heart to judder, shake, and skip its beat. she expects an awful lot of awfulness when he takes that one step too far. but in its wake, the word 'waltz' still echoing around her skull, she realizes she'd imagined a greater sting than she realistically felt. yes, the ache is hiding there beneath it all. but the ache never left. and james, as he plays fair and even with her, can only make her feel better. she feels more at home in this single moment than she has in all of nyc since the war's end. ]

Something tells me this isn't a slow-waltzing sort of town. [ but she still dismisses his frippery and jesting with conviction. ] But I'll take that closed door we spoke of earlier.

[redactions]

Happy t'oblige.

[ She seemed almost... happy he went there instead of annoyed or distant. He'll take it. ]

If you want one a'these, we can negotiate with the owner, but between you and me I'd hold out for another stopover.

[mucked]

[ she pauses mid-step, and with her arms crossed over her chest she turns her body just so. peggy levels with a look of skepticism. ]

Why on earth would I want to wait? [ ... ] Think I can get a better price elsewhere?

[ but that still leaves her unarmed in the interim. ]

[redactions]

Well — there's better technology on other planets. If you want to get one here, don't let me stop you.

[mucked]

This technology still works, doesn't it?

[ perhaps she distrusts the more futuristic supplies. or else she likes that witch which she's familiar. ]

[redactions]

It does. You have guns that've been invented that don't need reloading, and instead a'bullets they fire something that cauterises the wound when it meets the target.

[ Cleaner, and less work for a doctor. No wonder it appeals to him. ]

[mucked]

[ her nose crinkles. it isn't that she doesn't see the appeal (because she certainly does -- and the humanitarian in her wastes no time in recognizing what cleaner work such weapons would make) but rather that it's still so hard to swallow. even now. ]

Clever, [ she allows. ] But also considerably more expensive, I would expect. Is that right?

[ convenience always comes with a price. ]

[redactions]

I ain't sure how the credits translate to dollars... [ he half-shrugs, one-shouldered ] but money is the least of your problems here.

[ He seems to have a lot of it, weirdly. Ratings or something. And it's not the Winter Soldier uses any except for necessities. ]