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

Entry tags:

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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All things take time.

[ her teeth grit. she'd like to take a seat at his side and slide her palm against his -- show compassion, because she's not made of stone. but peggy doesn't know how to go from standing steely straight to settling next to him. that kind of fluid motion takes a certain emotional vulnerability that she's not willing to show. she isn't like him; she isn't so graceful in the face of her own mortality, no matter how full a life it might have been. she's on edge until it's said. aired. dispensed with. ]

And some things take more time than others. Waking up here, again, robs us of that time. When it happened to me -- [ extra memories; fresh experiences ] -- I woke up certain that I'd just a day earlier been stuck through the gut with a bit of rebar. The pain was still there -- but there wasn't any blood. No wound, either. Just a scar. [ she lays a hand on her stomach, indicating the place. but she doesn't try to show him the mark in question. ]

Didn't matter. It was like my mind refused to believe I was anything but what it thought I was. [ ... ] Have you spoken with the others?

[ the ones who remember. ]

Just Natasha, last night.

[ and that has been a turmoil of emotions. This, here, will be even harder, once he finally processes it all. Everything else will have to wait. he wipes his knuckles clean with a thumb. ]

Should have known she spends some of her nights in that gym.

[ especially after the trick the Atroma played on her. ]

[ -- it's his ineffective swipe at his knuckles that does her in. there's a flicker of pain hidden beneath impatience, and she helps herself to a standard-issue terry cloth from his locker. she doesn't know how long a half-finished cup of water has been sitting next to his bed, but she commandeers it to wet the rag. peggy sinks down onto the bed, crossing an ankle behind her knee as she sits to face him side-on. ]

Here, [ firmly, ] let me see to it.

[ her touch is ginger when she draws her fingertips across his palm and pulls his hand into her lap. it's an odd moment, considering how rarely he needs such basic care. she brushes a curl out of her eyes before bending to her work. lightly, she dabs the cloth against his knuckles.

she works in silence -- allowing him to elaborate on speaking with natasha, if he wants. ]

Edited 2017-01-01 19:43 (UTC)

[ he's not very good at hiding things, least of all from her. even if he were, he doubts he could have. Some secrets are possible to keep hidden but his grief is too evident an she's far too perceptive.

He looks at his own fingers, lets her work for a moment. The truth hangs between them but he can't address it. if he does, there's a chance this turmoil will start all over again and he doesn't allow himself to break in front of her. ]

It's alright.

[ he covers her hand with his. ]

It's far from alright. [ she chides him -- waving off his hand with a sharp and abrupt motion. ] Don't be brave for bravery's sake.

[ she eases her fingers down his palm so she can instead brace his hand at the wrist. peggy tilts his knuckles towards her and continues her work. undaunted, it seems, by his dismissal. ]

[ he barely manages a soft exhale, to release the breath he was holding for what feels like days. it's strict and sharp, her words and they're all a cover for something else. He almost wishes he could have been like Natasha or Vision, to hide these things better. It's of little use, these what ifs, a dangerous sort of thought and he pushes it away at once.

the first time he'd seen her he couldn't take his eyes off her and now - now she's here and his eyes follow every strict movement until something shifts and he moves an arm around her, tucks her firmly against his side. ]

I'm not feeling brave at all.

[ a soft confession, barely more than a whisper. ]

[ was it a good death? she wants to ask. the question burns in her. and don't lie to me, steve rogers. but he pulls her nearer and the words escape her. she can't form the sounds.

peggy fidgets her shoulders settle under his arm and she keeps her attention fixed carefully on hand. ]

How are you feeling? [ at least this question can be direct. direct, and sincere. peggy holds her breath for a moment before adding, ] and don't lie to me. I'll know if you do.

[ at least she thinks she'd know. hopes she would. ]

I don't know.

[ it's as honest an answer as he can find. being away from the starstruck has been one thing but seeing her now, it's easier to breathe, easier to feel like himself again. There's heartbreak, certainly but it's not the only thing to feel anymore and that is already a relief. ]

Glad to be back.

[ that, at least, is certain. ]

[ glad to be back counts for something. she supposes. peggy nods her head -- and touches his knuckles only briefly with the terry cloth. little dabs, mopping up the drying blood. she decides not to remind him that (technically) he'd never left. ]

I won't ask you anything you don't want to answer. [ she doesn't meet his eyes. ] Except -- except there is one question...

[ she trails off. perfunctorily awaits his permission to probe. ]

You can ask whatever you'd like, Peggy.

[ a dangerous permission to give but the one lesson this surge of memories had taught him is that sparing others the truth does nothing and he doesn't want to leave this information in the hands of the Atroma who might use it down the line.

better here and now then what might happen later. He doesn't like this, hates being driven to it but if he learns nothing from all that happened then whatever happens next will also be his fault. ]

Anything.

[ dangerous permission, indeed. so much so that she wonders whether she ought to forget he ever gave it. better for him, she knows, if she doesn't pivot completely to an interrogation. there's plenty she wants to know -- but likely shouldn't.

including this. ]

Was it a good death? [ peggy's hand falls still. she doesn't pull away from him, but rather turns her head so she can watch his eyes. rip away the bandage, so to speak, and then maybe they can start breaking ground on other subjects. ] I can see it all over your face, you know. I only hope it wasn't too jarring.

[ for his sake, and for hers. ]

Yes.

[ that's all he manages. in her sleep, the message said and someday, when his heart won't be so broken, he'll be able to find some comfort in that. That - and in her vast family and her long, thrilling life.

But now, now he mostly know that between home and here, he would rather simply stay, if only for the rare peace of mind he has by her side. He thought he would give it all for another moment or another conversation; here, he can still seize those.

It's enough conviction to make him blink against the familiar sting in his eyes and clear his throat and force himself to clarify, ]

It was good. It was peaceful.

Good. I'm glad.

[ -- she meets the news of her death with a stiff upper lip. christ, she nearly smiles. because before steve let slip her survival no more than a few weeks back, she'd convinced herself she was long dead by his future.

peggy puts aside the blood-dotted rag and gathers his hands between her own. ] Honestly, I always assumed the end would be anything but peaceful. And when the war didn't take me, I figured the work would.

[ if she is strong, now, then it's because she cannot abide faltering when he appears so vulnerable. peggy pulls his fingers up her mouth and kisses their joints. ] There's plenty more I want to ask but -- but I suspect it's rather unhealthy to know so much about your own demise.

[ it's a peaceful way to look at it. She's lived a good, long life. The trouble is that thinking of Peggy in past tense makes him tense and he focuses on her now, in this specific moment. ]

Peggy, you're the most incredible person I know.

[ he manages a half smile of a sort. ]

Think about life, your life.

[ not her death. He can barely accept it as it is. ]

-- Rather difficult, I think. Turns out I've not yet lived even half of it.

[ her life. she has ages to look forward to, according to him. and again she feels that selfish urge to ask about the sort of things it might hold. but no. she knows she's better off not knowing.

instead, she's caught between one contemplation and another. ] But enough about me. [ she sighs, dispenses with the topic, and eases herself further back on his standard-issue bed. peggy tugs on his wrist, coaxing her to lean with her. lean against her. and to maybe set his exhaustion aside for a short while. ]

Tell me about what's happened, Steve.

[ she knows enough from the others. but she doesn't know his particular take on the conflict, nor how he felt in its wake. those things are far more important to her. ]

[ he's quiet for a moment but it's a content sort of silence. Leaning against her, breathing her in - it's been two days but they felt like years. If he missed her, it's all the Atroma's fault. ]

First, there was Loki. After Loki, no one felt secure. SHIELD started Project Insight, they wanted to take out threats before they formed but it was all taken over by HYDRA. After that, Tony thought Ultron will be the best line of the defense but that - went south in Sokovia.

[ a terrible chain of events that led them to where they were. ]

We located one of HYDRA's Strike Team's leaders, Rumlow. We followed him to Nigeria but the OP went bad. That's when the Accords came in.

[ she settles him snug against her body. peggy runs her fingers through his hair and coaxes his head to pillow on her chest. she likes the weight and warmth of him -- despite the possible awkwardness involved with being the smaller of the pair trying to snag her arms around him, who is broader. ]

The Accords. Yes. I remember. [ she's been talking to other people. wanda, first. then natasha. then tony, although he was hardest to talk with and isn't here any longer. ] A short leash made from too many ideas that sound better on paper.

[ so she isn't entirely on his side. only mostly. even before anyone started talking about the accords, she had deep-seated concerns about the breadth of the avengers initiative. but she'd gone toe-to-toe too often with srs administration: legitimization has a way of sucking the goodness out of something, in the long run. she can't blame steve for getting spooked. ]

HYDRA lived inside SHIELD for years. The uprising was terrible. I trust the Avengers but beyond that - to let in politics and agendas into the whole thing felt wrong. Tony thought we owe it to the world, I thought otherwise.

[ but that's not even the heart of the matter. With Tony gone, he's not sure how freely he can talk of his parents' murder. ]

Some thing I kept from him that I shouldn't have. There was a fight. In the end it all ended, the Avengers were split in half and we all became criminals. They locked half of the team behind bars for a while.

[ her breathing stays even. she doesn't like thinking about the infiltration -- it doesn't jive so well with her notion of a long and productive life. how had it grown so cancerous under her nose? how does she even jump from being a field agent in the ssr to establishing its descendant? selfish questions, once again, when this moment isn't about her.

she kisses the top of his head. whenever her words grow hard, her touch stays gentle. this is the freedom afforded to her by the months previous, but the hotel, but christmas day. by all of it. she now longer needs to stand across the room and spit her hard-as-nails ideas and hope he can see the good intentions behind them.

instead, she can toy with his hair. ghost the pad of her thumb from the corner of his eye back to his ear. settle her palm flat against his chest and hug him close. ]

So it's not really about the Accords, is it? [ it's the secret. whatever it is. peggy sighs. ] They're the unfortunate -- unfair -- fall-out.

Edited 2017-01-02 00:35 (UTC)

It's trust. The world doesn't trust the Avengers, some of us didn't trust the UN and now there are problems of trust inside the team. I made a mistake.

[ that's what it comes down to, in the end. ]

In the end, he said I don't deserve the shield. We agreed on that. Captain America - that's over and done with.

[ her fingers pause in their caresses. ] Done? [ a note of disbelief.

peggy hadn't quite taken his earlier implication to heart: half the team are criminals. he's on the run. quite literally, it would seem. and it's hard not to feel a spark of sudden, virile sympathy.

(although -- truthfully -- she's amazed 'captain america' lasted as long as it did.) ]

Where is it now? [ the shield. ]

Here. At home - with Tony.

[ though he has no desire for it, not even here. If tony were here, he'd give it to him once again. ]

It was all too much. Cap meant a lot to people but lately - in places like Sokovia, they called us all fascists and after all of that -

[ he goes silent for a moment, lets himself feel her touch. ]

It was too much to try and live up to.

[ she sucks in a slow breath. by all signals, she seems about to chastise him for abandoning the shield. it's a damn good shield, after all, regardless of its colours and its symbol. but (in the end) she lets it slide. fascist isn't a word either of them throw around lightly. not after what they've survived. so, instead, she resumes her slow, swirling affection against his scalp.

she keeps her voice low. ] I suppose signing the Accords would have felt a bit too familiar. Like you'd put the monkey-suit back on.

[ it's not quite the same. she knows it. selling war-bonds and coming under someone else's jurisdiction. but they were similar in the most important way: they ran counter to how steve rogers saw himself, and what he could offer the world. as ever, she insists he was meant to be himself and not what others molded him to be. ]

[ there's a smile, rare and honest, pressed into her shirt. There are things he could never readily explain to most people and it's those things she usually knows at once. ]

That and maybe - Captain America never made mistakes. Lately, I make a lot of them and I feel like it might be a disappointment. They expect a lot from Cap, less from me.

[ a disappointment! he was only the scientific 'find' of a century, so to speak. and damn near unique when compared to his counterparts. peggy tries not to laugh, because laughter would belittle the way he questions himself. and (ultimately) it's never a sin to question. ]

Captain America could've made plenty of mistakes. Difference is, Captain America never had the chance. You and the Commandos ran 'round for -- what, just over a year? And then in a flash, you were gone. All anyone could do craft a legend from the bits that remained. [ ... ] I remember Captain America, such as he started. I remember his blunders, too. It's the comics and the programmes and the bloody lunch tins that forgot.

You had to inherit that when you came back to the world. [ ... ] It can't have been easy.

[ he isn't a perfect man -- but he's a damned good one, and peggy holds him in highest esteem because of it. but the post-war halcyon days turned him into something else. steve inherited a legacy he had so little hand in building. ]

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