driftfleet | Heron Mingle

[Sam obviously can't speak to the man Bucky was before HYDRA got its hands on him - from the stories Steve's told him, he was a charmer. (Sam also thinks that the old Bucky's achieved a larger than life quality in Steve's mind, something nobody - even Bucky - could ever hope to live up to.)

But former Winter Soldier Bucky? The one with the piecemeal memories and a mind like a moth-eaten quilt? Well. He'll have to take Peggy's word on that one. She knows the man better than he does, after all.]

Not as good as the Starstruck, I'm guessing?

Now, that's unkind. Painting me immediately into the corner where I'm forced to reveal my bias. [ as though it's not already glaringly obvious. ] The Starstruck has plenty of advantages. I wouldn't be much of a guest if I started listing them while aboard someone else's ship, however.

[ careful, but not too careful. her words are more like a caricature of courteous conversation. nice enough, but with a vein of mischief just below. ]

Especially to its newest recruit.

So how do you get from ship to ship, anyway? Do you have...you know, teleports or something?

[Obviously the Marsiva does, but he doesn't know about the rest of them. And there seems to be a good bit of travel in between ships, so he'd better find out how before he ends up looking like a total idiot.]

All ships are equipped with short-range teleportation capabilities. [ these words used to be downright batty to say. impossible-sounding, at best. but she's been here long enough; she's adjusted to the technology. ] But there are shuttles, as well. Their engines don't last longer than about twenty-four hours, however.

[ a beat. ] Today, I beamed. Shuttles are bit dull without a pilot's augment.

Hours traveling through space in a tin can? Not my idea of fun, even with a good book. The teleports sound easier.

[Not something he ever thought he'd say. But he didn't think he'd be hearing a woman straight out of the 1940s talk about teleporters in the first place, either. Sam's life is just full of surprises.]

You bring the human Dorito along with you, or did you come by yourself?

[ -- give her a moment. there's a clear cloud of confusion at the word dorito. her eyes narrow and her lips contract into a thin line. peggy dislikes feeling so at sea, but it unfortunately happens more often than she'd like to admit when speaking to anyone from the future.

it takes a heartbeat (or two) but she proceeds with a cautious hunch that this must be some means of referring to steve. determined not to be caught off-guard, she proceeds as though she isn't gagging to ask what the bleeding hell a dorito is. ]

Myself. [ ... ] Someone needs to stay back and keep the home fires burning.

Just as long as he doesn't take that literally. You know how enthusiastic he can be sometimes.

[A beat.]

And if you don't know, then I'm seriously gonna have to have a chat with him.

[Please don't let it just be limited to missionary with the lights off.]

[ -- again, a pause. but there's no confusion muddying these waters. sam's implication doesn't go unrecognized. by now, peggy's certain she's heard them all. every innuendo; every jest; every taunt. she'd come back to a world eager to fill her margins with sly comments about her history with captain america. rarely did they fluster her; more often, they enraged her.

sam receives the benefit of mercy. because he's steve's friend, or else because she's been away from home for so damn long. regardless, she pretends like nothing of the sort has been said. ]

He'll manage. [ then, with a bit of pep in her posture. ] He always does.

Yeah, well, if he doesn't, you just let me know.

[Peggy, Sam is Very Concerned, okay? He's only looking out for your best interests here. Also, he knows that his best friend is dumb.]

Who got here first, you or him?

[It's a sudden question, and his tone slips into something a little more serious than simple light-hearted joking.]

[ that's a trickier question that it ought to be. steve wasn't here when she arrived, but there was a man with steve's face and the wrong history: some alternate version of him, twisted nearly beyond recognition. the most honest answer would carry too much nuance and disclaim.

so peggy falls back on what's easier. it, too, is true. in its own way. ]

I did. [ and then steve arrived, then steve left, then he arrived again. shrewdly: ] Why do you ask?

I'm wondering what he was like when he got here. What sort of emotional state. 'Cause it's been a year, and he might be better now - might just pretending to be better, 'cause we both know Steve Rogers. But when we were back home, he wasn't doin' so hot.

[Understatement of the year award there.]

And if there's anyone he talks to about anything, it's probably you. Which doesn't mean you're going to tell me about it, but it's worth asking, I figure.

[ a breath she'd been holding now releases in a soft sigh. this isn't her ideal conversation -- far from it. but it's easier, if only because peggy's already well aware of what happens. happened. ]

You're not asking the right questions. [ a beat. ] It isn't your fault; you're freshly arrived. These aren't the sort of details that come up during orientation.

[ if this is going to be one of those conversations, then peggy breaks posture long enough to lean her shoulders against the corridor wall. ]

When Steve first arrived, he didn't come from 2016. But I'm assuming that's precisely when you're from, given your worry. [ she doesn't put so fine a point on it, but her meaning is clear: she knows. ]

Once here, all of us have the potential to fall into a kind of coma. When we wake up? We might have new memories. Fresh ones from home. That's what happened to him -- months ago, now.

You know, I've said this before, but there really needs to be a goddamn guide to this.

[Sam sighs, his brow furrowed with concern. At least she knows why he's worried, which means that Steve didn't close himself off completely. She's got some idea of what went on, what Steve went through.]

Yeah, great, that's a fantastic way to handle things. You wake up, and suddenly there's a clusterfuck of new memories in your brain. [Sam closes his eyes for a moment.] So. What happened after that?

Why are you asking me? Why not him?

[ -- she'd been so forthcoming thus far. but peggy pauses, now, to reassess the conversation. she mayn't know sam well, but it's enough to know that steve trusts him. more than that, she know steve feels responsible on top of all else. after all, he's not the only one who was suddenly a fugitive in over a hundred nations. he'd taken half his teammates with him. as vouches go, that one's significant. but she's never been one to make things easy.

and peggy suspects exactly why sam's asking her and not steve. perhaps she wants to hear it from sam's mouth, first. ]

You can't be so foolish as to think I'm prone to gossip.

[ least of all about him. ]

Uh, because Steve's a delusional product of his time and too goddamn stubborn to admit to any sort of emotional problems, especially to another man? He was that way before and he only had the usual problems a combat vet frozen on ice for decades might have. God only knows what else he's developed.

[Sam shakes his head, and the look he gives Peggy is a little stern.]

And you're smart enough to know that this isn't gossip, that I'm asking for a reason, and that I wouldn't ask if I wasn't goddamn worried about him. If there's something wrong, Peggy, I want to be able to help. What happened back home was just- like a boiler under too much pressure for too long. I don't want him to get like that again.

[ his outpouring surprises her. not so much the sentiment -- that could be guessed at, assumed, predicted -- but rather the flush of words used to paint a broad picture of sam's concern. thing is, she isn't much accustomed to such frank emotional chatter either. she, too, is a product of her time. her stomach churns at the thought of anyone (anyone) discussing her in a manner so raw and open as the one employed when sam attempts to discuss steve.

but there are bits that ring too true. like a boiler, sam says, under too much pressure. she'd read it in the lines of steve's posture once she'd finally tracked him down, months past. that afternoon marked the first time he'd slept in her bed; afterward, it seemed she'd have no hope of prying him from the room. and at least this way she knows he sleeps.

peggy cards her fingers through her curls, teasing her thumb along her temple. sam must understand, she hopes, that nothing about this is simple for her. she hates discussing steve with other people -- it runs against every grain in her soul. ]

No, you're right. [ wait for it. ] It's far from gossip. But nor is it proper that I should jumped headlong into a conversation as weight as this one while we're slumming about in the bloody hallway.

[ like pulling teeth. ]

I presume you know the way to the Heron's kitchen?

[He's not surprised by that, frankly, just from what he knows about Peggy. A woman surrounded by men can't allow herself to be emotional, not when the men would use any emotion to bring her down. And as for the war - Peggy experienced the same sort of things Steve did, although she's (presumably) been able to decompress, to recover from her experiences in a healthier manner than suddenly finding herself in a new time and place. (Given time, Sam will probably develop a certain level of concern for Peggy and her well-being.)

He gives her a tight smile and fits the panel back in place easily.]

You're right, I should've offered you a cup of tea first. But you've been around Americans long enough to know we have terrible manners.

-although, [he adds as he heads down the corridor in the direction of the kitchen,] you can't tell me that the tea in space is decent by your standards.

Rubbish, mostly.

[ warm, rich tones seep back into her voice the moment she can fall back on neutral conversation. like pulling on a familiar jacket. she's clearly steadier, here, treading ground that goes nowhere near the tremulous hours spent with steve in the wake of his memories hitting him. ]

But I have my sources. [ ... ] Very rarely must I settle for the bog standard swill the dispensers pass as tea. [ green tea, at that. ] However, I can't speak to this ship's stores.

[ good lord, she's going to have to settle for coffee. isn't she? generally, she does slum it with coffee on the heron -- but that's to humour barnes, like adding another brick to their shored up friendship.

regardless, she follows. ]

I haven't done much investigating, but you're probably going to be disappointed here.

[Although the kitchen is less of a disappointment than Sam might have thought. From the way everyone's talked about the food, he'd expected more gel everywhere. There's actually cooking equipment, though the space is cramped, and he's not sure what sort of ingredients are available (he'll have to look later). A bit of investigation turns up both a coffeepot and grounds, and he raises an eyebrow at Peggy.]

How's coffee? Not too blasphemous?

Utterly blasphemous. [ peggy enters the kitchen as though she's comfortable with it. familiar. she beelines for a spot at the galley table, sliding into a seat. ] But I'll take a cup. As long as you're confident you can swear to me you'll never tell Steve.

[ it's a sly sort of request. she doesn't just mean the coffee, although that's an important secret to keep. peggy also expects sam to hold his tongue about anything she might divulge going forward in this little tete-a-tete.

so she continues her sad little tradition of enduring coffee aboard the heron. ]

He'll never hear a word of it from me.

[Sam grasps the double-talk; obviously the coffee isn't the root of the matter here. And of course he won't tell Steve about their conversation, because he's not dumb enough to risk future intel.

(Plus he already likes Peggy and simply doesn't want to make her angry by betraying her confidence.)

Sam fills the coffeepot with water and sets it to brew before he takes a seat at the table, directly across from Peggy.]

Shellshock. [He begins simply, with a single word.] That's what you call it. We call it post-traumatic stress disorder, because it doesn't just happen to soldiers. It can happen to anyone who experiences a traumatic event, no matter how minor. Or how major.

[ a slow, knowing nod. ]

I'm actually aware of the updated terminology. [ it's a wonder the things she's learned after living in space. some horizons have been truly expanded; others merely gain new window-dressing. still, she frowns. ] Mostly because my pilot shows rather serious symptoms. From time to time. Most recently it took both Steve and myself to subdue him during an episode.

[ -- and there she goes, deflecting smoothly off steve's emotional state and delving into someone else's. it's her best and easiest access point; whether she'll manage to loop back around to steve himself is yet to be seen. ]

[Sam actually winces at that, because oh Jesus, they're stuck on a spaceship with someone who has episodes that are severe enough to need restraint? Please just ignore him while he scrubs his face with a hand.]

Christ.

[There's a whole dictionary of meaning in that single word, and years of experience behind it. He breathes in through his nose, then, slowly, out through his mouth.

(And, also, he takes note of the way she quite deliberately directs the conversation away from Steve.)]

If you think he'd be willing to open up about it to a total stranger - and from the sound of it, that's not likely - then have him come talk to me. I help vets at home, so I have experience with it.

[Which is why he's asking about Steve.]

[ she watches for his reaction -- nodding through it, too. until peggy offers scant additional details: ] He's not much willing to open up about it to anyone, really. But he's been here nearly as long as I have. Progress has been made. Slow; agonizing. I'd have warned you anyway on your first visit to the Starstruck. He sticks to the shuttle bay and if a fresh face startles him? Well, he's lashed out before.

[ she's circumspect in her explanation. that said, her tone isn't without affection. max is dear to her, in his own way. he'd been little more than feral when he'd arrived; since then, she's seen him take such leaps and bounds.

more importantly, however, peggy gets what she's been fishing for: sam's angle in all of this. friendship, certainly, but there's a professional edge to the inquiry. ]

What sort of help?

[ she needs it justified, perhaps, before she'll go on the record about steve. ]

That sounds like a severe case to me - years of trauma, I'd guess. His brain gets stuck in fight or flight mode easily because that's what it's used to, hence the lashing out. It's good that you've made progress, but there's still a hell of a long way to go. I can teach coping mechanisms to both of you, 'cause it's hard to remember them in the middle of an episode, and sometimes it helps to have someone there who knows what you're supposed to do. Help him figure out what's most likely to trigger it, and any ways around that.

[Sam gives her a slightly wry smile. His credentials might make her clam up about herself, but what can he do?] After I came back from Afghanistan, I wanted to help people. So I went back to school and got a degree in psychology, with a focus on treating patients with PTSD. I've been working for the VA - the Department of Veteran's Affairs - for years, running group sessions for vets. I'm a licensed therapist.

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