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[Natasha takes a drink of her coffee, letting that sit for a moment. She bites back her first response—there's always room for more self-loathing.]

Imagine that would just end up with more of the same.

Edited 2016-11-10 23:43 (UTC)

[ the ensuing snort is likely wry, but muddied. ]

Yes, well. There's something to be said about the lack of variation in that particular diet.

Why do I get the feeling that you and Barnes aren't on the best terms right now?

[Equally wry.]

Because we're not. [ there isn't much use in lying about it. peggy knows she could -- and although she knows natasha would guess it was a lie, she's at least convinced it wouldn't look or sound like one.

but it also isn't exactly a problem she can comfortably bring to anyone else. ] Haven't been, really, since it all went down. [ ... ] And now he's awake again.

He is. I talked to him a little.

[Mostly making plans to spar, which Natasha counts as information not productive to this particular conversation.]

Very little. He's not exactly verbose.

[ another low chuckle. bit of an understatement, there, natasha. ]

I tried to arrange a face-to-face, so to speak. [ she points at the other woman's coffee, indicating perhaps the level of casual meeting she'd suggested. ] It took off like a lead balloon.

[ so, poorly. ]

[Natasha winces a little, a silent gesture of understanding before she chooses her words.]

Is he not a tea drinker either?

I offered to do coffee. [ but he'd deferred. instead of taking hold of the brutally honest offer to spend time together, he'd suggested some hazy future possibility. a brush-off, it seems. and a further implication of how much he simply doesn't care, despite so much evidence to the contrary.

a bit defensive, she twists it into a joke: ] The offer mustn't have been enticing enough. Just as well. I'd have a helluva time trying not to wince after every mouthful.

Not really a surprise. He didn't strike me as in a social mood when he woke up.

Even for him.

[No reason to Peggy to see it as personal.]

[ a hum of understanding.

she sheds a little more light on the complexity: ] Like I said, it's been a year -- he was already here when I arrived. [ and at first, they actually got along quite well. ] But I still remember Barnes. The sergeant, that is. What a different man.

[ it's not fair of her, but some days she feels as though she needs to find a glimpse of that man again. she'd seen him in jim, when he was here. and on those same days she finds she misses jim a great deal. ]

That has to be hard. [Natasha's tone is understanding, but not too pitying. Between British stiff upper lips and Russian stoicism, it's not their style, is it?

But she does understand.]

I can't imagine. I would have liked to see him then. In a way it's easier only knowing him as an assassin.

Once, I walked into a pub to touch base with some of the Commandos. The sergeant made a pass at me -- imagine that, if you will. [ a far far cry from the stilted and broken man still trying to find his words, now.

but then it wasn't so long after that when she was signing off on a report of the sergeant's death. what a swirl of mixed emotions. ]

Edited 2016-11-11 00:59 (UTC)

Hard to picture. [A thoughtful hum and another sip of coffee.] He does have his moments though. Maybe not the guy from sixty years ago, but every once in a while you get a flash of something.

Personality that survived the conditioning.

[Natasha doesn't know about the Winter Soldier's training specifically, the exact methods used to create him, but she knows enough about training methods, about people who'll get in your head and make you something else to know what she's talking about.

That familiarity shows subtly, a shadow in her voice and eyes.]

Maybe that makes it harder.

[ a slow -- if reluctant -- nod. the glimpses pain her, at times. not least of all because she feels responsible. and there's a particularly cruel irony in hating oneself for how much self-hate another person is experiencing.

but she isn't so much lost to those thoughts that she misses the shadow. peggy's lips fall into a hard line, and then: ] Does the name LEVIATHAN mean anything to you?

[ a non-sequitur, perhaps. but only because she hasn't voiced the connection pre-existent in her mind. ]

[Natasha doesn't bat an eyelash, not in recognition and not in confusion. If she knows the name, she keeps that information to herself.]

Why? Are they behind what happened to Barnes?

[Baldly taking advantage of the sudden change to avoid a committal answer.]

Possibly. [ her eyes are on the tea. peggy shakes her head. ] Possibly not. That's the sort of question which keeps me up night.

Does it really matter what the answer is? Either way, you can't put that on yourself. You're not responsible for HYDRA. Or Leviathan. Or any other shady organizations with ominously mythical names.

Of course, [ she exhales with falsified relief. she's not responsible for hydra, or leviathan, but she certainly did her part in bringing in dr. fenhoff and jailing him in the belly of the beast, so to speak. she might not be aware of any specific cellmate assignments -- but all it had taken was jim barnes warning her about zola, and about the hydra takeover, to put the rest of the pieces together.

she practically giftwrapped a highly effective hypnotist for hydra. and yet, as fate would have it, her name doesn't appear on the file. thompson took that collar; history would absolve her. ] It's not my fault. To claim otherwise would make me quite the hypocrite, wouldn't it?

[ after all, she routinely insists that the violence on the iskaulit wasn't bucky's fault. and yet. ]

It would make you complicated. We all are. It's natural to blame yourself, but you can't save everyone.

[Natasha doesn't let her apply her words too much to her own life. That's a rabbit hole she doesn't need to go down.]

But trust me, it's not worth beating yourself up over other people's sins.

[ so, she doesn't quite have the same light touch as edwin jarvis. not quite the same idealistic bent to her responses. and yet peggy finds a kernel of comfort in the conversation. ]

That's just it, though. I tried to save him. [ -- 'save' is more a twist on her words than the legitimate feeling behind the confession. peggy had no chance in hell of saving the winter soldier. she understands that, plain as day. ] I should have emptied my clip into his chest -- his head -- when he was coming at me. Maybe it wouldn't have stopped him, but I ought to have tried.

[ but peggy didn't defend herself the way she ought to have done.all because she felt guilty over leaving fenhoff alive. it becomes a complex web: she missed her marks on purpose because she feels culpable for the creature barnes became -- if not because of fenhoff himself, then because hydra was allowed to rebuild itself in guts of her organization.

peggy finishes her cup of tea with no flourishes. ] I promised him I would try.

I do understand. But that's still blaming yourself for Barnes's actions, the things other people put in his head. You didn't stop him because he was your friend. Because you feel responsible for him.

That's not a trigger everyone can pull.

[ peggy swaps out her teabag for something fresh -- studiously avoiding a careful glance in natasha's direction. her natural inclination is to read into the negative spaces of a statement like that, but she files those questions away for later. ]

I suppose it isn't. [ if her statement hedges any semblance of conviction, it's only because she matches the way natasha's statement sounded more like a platitude directed to deflect the conversation a little longer. ]

I'm not very good at this, am I?

[Natasha can own that.]

You have to realize, I get that it's hard. I do. But it also sounds a little like being upset that you're a good person.

Of course. [ she pours fresh water in her mug and returns to the table. ] After all, isn't being a good person something of a liability?

[ in our line of work. and there, perhaps, is the very crux of peggy carter's personality. a good spy, inspired by a good soldier who (at heart) was more a good person than a good soldier. it's hard to ply tradecraft and be something of an idealist, but ever since meeting steve rogers she's tried to balance those two parts of herself.

but before natasha can answer: ] And I wouldn't say you're bad at this, incidentally.

[ whatever this is. ]

You didn't have to say it. I did.

[Natasha presses her lips together, considering whether or not she should even come back to the first statement. She can read the queue to let it rest.

But there is something to say.]

As for whether or not it's a liability... the people who trained me thought so. The people who trained Barnes probably did too. I wouldn't call that the company to aspire to.

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