Deck the Halls (does not mean punch them)

[touchofrogue]

Who: Rogue, Remy, those invited who decided to attend, and they’re probably not rude enough to turn down any passerbys who happen to come by and wish to attend
Broadcast: Nope
Action: In an out of the way room with a few smallish windows on the Iskaulit
When: December 23rd, 5ish-8ish


It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas, or it would have been if they were on an Earth calendar. For their celebration and memory-making, Rogue had selected a middle sized room on the edge with two small windows by which an occasional view of the ice planet below could be seen. There would be very few who would be tempted to steal such a familiar view, however, since Rogue had enlisted Loki’s aid in making Christmas decorations and he provided illusions with alacrity and skill.

Lights are strung about the room, housed in brightly colored glass balls. While at first they simply seem to be glowing ornaments, there is something odd about the flames. A close look will reveal they do not dance formlessly, but rather have the shape of tiny dragons. There are bright, evergreen wreaths with red bows, hung strategically about the place which are actually eternal knots, impossible to solve. In the corner immediately spotted upon entering is an illusion of a gorgeous Christmas tree, with decorations all in gold and sparkling lights at the end of each branch - even the smell of evergreen is mimicked flawlessly. Flanking the tree are two tables, one laden in all kinds of food that Rogue and Remy have cooked up, the other with the label ‘White Elephant presents here.’ Loki has also helped Rogue hook up her music to some sort of an audible projection, and she is initially going to be streaming traditional Christmas Carols done by such greats as Ella Fitzgerald, Norah Jones, and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

There are a few comfortable chairs set up along the opposite side of the room as the Christmas tree (just a few, as comfortable chairs are not that easy to find), by an illusion of falling silver leaves that provide a glow of soft light in the area.

The center of the room is free for dancing, or games, or standing about and talking. Remy and Rogue have done their best to make delicious finger foods, appetizers and heartier party fare. There’s delicacies that can be found sourced from the planet, various salted fruits, a small platter of apple slices with a caramel dip, and heartier fare in the way of stews and pastas, the sort of thing that could be put in a cup and eaten standing up. There are desserts as well, spice cookies and peppermint bark and a far too tiny chocolate cake. There is punch - ice strawberry - and Natasha’s gift of vodka, kept carefully separate from the punch, and there’s some leftover wine Loki had magically made more potent for the solstice that Rogue stole in case any of those with suped up metabolisms wanted the pleasure of getting buzzed.

Notably, there is no depiction of mistletoe.

Comments

[redactions]

[ He clinks his glass with hers, and sips, quietly. ]

Hope we get the next one at home.

[ Not the empty places they live, but some semblance of peace. They've more than earned it. ]

[mucked]

To home, [ she agrees. careful and circumspect within her agreement. home isn't all that terrible of a place for her, except that now she knows that to be here is to be alongside these faces. could she willingly leave it behind, given the opportunity?

she drinks deep. ] Can I ask a personal question, Jim?

[redactions]

[ free country, he nearly jokes. ]

Sure.

[mucked]

I never took you for a man who didn't dance. [ ... ] What changed?

[ oh, she knows what changed broadly. but what -- in particular -- had shuttered that part of him? ]

[redactions]

[ He shrugs, one-shouldered. ]

Shoes are too tight. Music ain't to my liking. Or I just don't have the right partner.

[ The last one is a lie, the kind of lie that's truth at the same time. Nat has him, every piece; Natasha here has a few as well, but not for the same reason. They circle like predators more than they ever dance for fun. ]

[mucked]

Now there is a reason I can respect. [ not the shoes -- not even, really, the music. but then he feeds her old line back to her and it's not the easiest thing to swallow. but she can taste its validity, whether he means it or not. ]

Stand-ins simply don't compare, do they?

[redactions]

[ Soft, heavy, ]

No, they don't.

[mucked]

[ she pins him (a moment) with her gaze. those tones -- that sound! -- puts her in mind of a man acutely aware of what he's lost. and for the first time, she begins to entertain the possibility that jim might have...had someone. some one person, and not a parade of doe-eyed dames.

now it's her turn to reach for his hand. ] You're certain I can't compel you to break your danceless ways, Captain? I'm perfectly at peace with being a fine and dandy stand-in.

[redactions]

[ His mouth twists, wry, and he's moved to brush his thumb along her hand. She speaks so lightly, from a place of care and a desire to protect her friend from his loneliness. ]

I've no doubt you could persuade me, Agent Carter, but I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check.

[ She's a stand-in for nobody. Where the hell is Steve? ]

[mucked]

Your loss. [ she responds with a dramatic sort of sigh -- feigned, of course, because it's gentler to both of them if she plays this like a joke or a molehill-into-a-mountain. plays it for the laughs and the smiles and the sighs of relief.

she withdraws her hand so she can wag a finger. ] I can deduce which buttons I ought not to be pushing, I suppose.

[redactions]

[ The James Barnes of 1942 might've grinned wickedly and said something to the effect of being the Brooklyn Lindy Hop champion for three years in a row. Jim just quirks a small, wistful smile. The little joke a balm, the care a tourniquet. ]

Plenty a'others to aim at.

[ Perhaps the gentlest way he can say, I'm messed up and more than that, please help. They never spoke of these things, in their War, they carried on because they needed to. All the pieces of themselves they lost — some more than others — even after, not an open word. Not even now. ]

[mucked]

[ cold comfort on the eve of christmas eve. she tips her drink, and pretends as though she's at least considering his suggestion. ]

Plenty, certainly. But [ until he arrives... ] I'd rather wile away the evening right here. [ a ghost of a smile. ] If you'll have me.

[ that quiet plea of please help does not go unheard, and it roots her all the more to this chair and this corner and this man. ]

[redactions]

[ Some wounds heal not with aspirin but by breaking the bone to set it properly. He expects no less of Peggy Carter. ]

Careful. Ya might make a fella think y'like him.

[mucked]

My nostalgia has been unusually kind to you, Jim. [ her expression is wry. it hides the raw feeling below. ] Sometimes you don't quite realize how much you enjoyed spending time with someone until they're gone. Be charitable about it, won't you.

[redactions]

[ The easiest way she has of telling him he was missed. It's an uncomfortable feeling, a malaise that might spread. His mouth twitches. ]

Sorry.

[mucked]

You made your choice. [ both times, she ventures: on the train, and in the valkyrie. ] It's never been my place to hold that choice against you.

[ indeed, she'd lectured steve to that effect. and now she wonders who'd lectured jim barnes when the opposite tragedy had taken place in his timeline. after all, she can't imagine him having blamed anyone but himself. ]

[redactions]

[ Yes, he did, but, ]

We didn't mean to leave you behind.

[ It hurt, losing people, then. One moment you could be standing next to a man and the next, he'd have lost a limb, or his life. Didn't matter that it hardened them all, it was never easier to carry. Especially not for her or Steve, where there was an expectation of an after. Steve would have expected one for Bucky too, if he hadn't gone and crashed the damn plane. ]

[mucked]

No, of course not. And I never -- believe you me, Jim. I never saw it like that.

[ she doesn't resent the fallen. only aches for them; misses them; pours a drink for them and sits in silence on some evenings. but she'd been getting a bit better at moving on before she'd been dragged to this place. ]

[redactions]

[ Softly, echoing her agreement, ]

We all knew the risks, that's all.

[ All the HYDRA agents they saw eat their cyanide capsules. He never asked if she had one like it; better not to know. ]

[mucked]

The depositions were hardest. [ this is the wrong place for this conversation -- and that wrongness shows in how clandestine her whisper grows. ] Grief can be weathered. I doubt you need me to tell you that much. Lives march ever onward. But the endless interviews about what happened -- about the last hours leading up to his crash.

[ it had torn her apart: the thin line between what duty demands she report, and what the soul wants to keep secret. kisses; promises; tears. she put none of them on the record. ]

[redactions]

[ His brow furrows, and then uncreases, with understanding. He reaches across for her hand. No one is looking. ]

Were you on the line with him?

[mucked]

[ a nod is all she needs. a nod and his hand, firm above her flighty fingers. part of her feels guilty because ever since she'd learned of his switched-place with steve, she's wanted to know -- had anyone been on the line with jim barnes? had anyone shared a last laugh and lingering smile with him? as tragic as steve's loss had been, peggy could not characterize those last minutes as terrible ones. ]

Till the static took over. [ ... ] And I think I might have waited a damn full hour after that.

[redactions]

I know.

[ Not I'm sorry, though he feels that too. It's a choice, to apologise would feel like diminishing the worth of the sacrifice. ]

You were there for me too.

[ Thank God they weren't the last words he ever said to her. ]

[mucked]

[ if she smiles now, then it's only because she can't think of what else to do with her mouth. terse, tight, and terribly dishonest: her smile is the uncomfortable leftovers of a long-worn mask. peggy carter trusts jim barnes -- even this barnes, now -- down to her bones. but she won't let herself crack before him for just any old heartache. ]

Is it so strange that I take that as a comfort? [ she exhales. ] I don't know what I'd think or feel or do if I learned you'd been -- alone.

[ the content of the conversation doesn't matter have so much as its existence does. ]

[redactions]

Just like him.

[ He doesn't clarify which him; he steered the conversation here and he'll be damned if all they do is wallow. it feels like that, a lot, because he only ever acknowledges the grief, and not the joy of having them both here. ]