driftfleet | ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴜs ( ᴏᴘᴇɴ )

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ᴛʜᴇʏ'ʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴜs ( ᴏᴘᴇɴ )

Who: steve rogers circa civil war + you, yes you
Broadcast: nope
Action: various;
When: throughout january

[ new year, new memories and what begins as one monstrous headache.

it takes a couple of hours to sort through everything that's new, to make sense of a kaleidoscope of memories, images and sounds. at first, he starts writing it all down, lagos, the sokovia accords, the UN, black panther.

Only the dry details and nothing of what starts to weight down on his shoulders, faces and names that inspire a heavy, intimate, terrible sort of pain.

And so an avoidance of a sort begins that lasts through the two days the new year. Hours upon hours spend on the library aboard the Iskaulit, reading books and making nothing of them. It's an odd sight, Steve Rogers in one of the corners of the room, staring at a book and randomly picking up a notepad and writing something down ( another detail that comes up, scott lang or spiderman ) and then staring at the notepad only to go back and stare at the book.

He might also be found at odd hours at the gym; evidently, taking out his burdens on a punching bag, seemingly lost in thought even as takes out what seems to be a world of trouble on the thing.

It will take these two days of isolation before those of the fleet start seeing steve rogers off the Iskaulit. He'll make a return to the Starkstruck, though this return, too, will be a reclusive matter one will have to actively seek him to find him in the weaponry or otherwise, in his room. ]

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[ at first, she gives him ample space. he tells her only what she needs to know -- the suggestion of change, of new intel, and of troubled waters ahead. perhaps she should have began by pushing harder: demanding that he talk, and share his burdens with her. but peggy doesn't so much as prod. she remembers what it's like to suddenly sort through raw memories and rawer feelings. less than eager to stifle him, she hangs back. lets him distract himself (or focus himself, hard to say which) on the iskaulit. but when they see each other in passing during that time she can note the changes on his face. it's not a terribly difficult code to break; sorrow is just another cipher.

but when he finally comes back 'home', she'll be waiting for him. peggy knew the shuttle was docking -- had picked it up on the array -- and so she waits for him in his quarters. she leans against the far wall, thumbing through a book he'd left out before he'd gone into isolation. ]

[ by the time of his return, his list of new things is quite long, though the order is a mess, events mixing themselves together into a blur of arguments and conversations. but the reality of it all is heavy and terribly clear. the UN summit that he was never going to go to, the sudden trip to London.

they're two very clear facts that he tries to make himself accept, Peggy is gone and Peggy is here.

It's an awful contradiction. He barely had time to grieve for her at home, he'll never do it here.

It used to be a bit of a comforting thought of a sort, that if he ever goes back he'll still have something. their conversation in her bright room, a chance to see her again.

It's gone, now. His return will be to a world where she is longer alive and the hours away are spent working out through that, through that sudden sense of grief and loneliness.

He thinks he's quite ready to face her, when he finally comes back.

And he's wrong.

It's as sudden as that, he pauses at her door and continues towards his, buys himself another moment before he sees her - to wipe reminders of blood from bruised knuckles that spent far too many hours hitting things without tape and maybe change his clothes.

She's already there and he stops short, stares at her and then turns to close the door behind him. ]

Hey.

[ some might argue these are the times in which gentleness ought to reign. that she should collect him into a warm, supple hug and seek a path through with kindness. such solutions do no come easily to peggy -- not when she's faced with puzzles unsolved and messages not yet decoded. all she knows for certain is that he can't quite bring himself to look at her without appearing so damned sad. it makes her breath catch -- unhappily, this time. ]

You've been busy. [ she doesn't glance at his hands. they are the elephants in the room. or, at least, the current loudest of the elephantine lot. peggy shuts the book with a gentle thump and lays it back upon his bedside table. ] I thought...

[ she doesn't know what she thought. only what she feared. peggy swallows one confession and angles for another. ] I've been worried about you.

[ all is stiff. she might be speaking more as his captain, now, than as his friend -- or anything else. ]

[ it's all a mixture. A terrible sadness coupled with an overwhelming amount of gratitude and both are processed at once. Until now, he could barely look at her, now, he doesn't feel as if he can stop. He doesn't answer her, outright; he looks at her and sorts it all, once again, in his mind. Seeing her like this almost makes accepting she is gone impossible, how could she be? she's young and vivid and beautiful and worried. ]

Sorry.

[ it's an instinct and he continues before the apology can be dismissed. ]

I'm back now.

[ he wants to say, I'm better but that still feels like a bit of a lie. ]

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Action; after Steve's return to the Starstruck

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