[ -- it could be anyone at her door. it could be max, or it could be another member of her crew. it could be sam wilson, visiting. or it could be steve. peggy, in dark-coloured slacks, a silk blouse, and with her hair as yet uncurled, answers the door expecting it to be literally any other person besides the winter soldier.
and when she sees him -- her palm steadied on the door -- something in her expression falters. peggy isn't often caught so completely off her guard. she stammers: ] H-hello.
[ silence. she watches him. then: ] Won't...won't you come in?
[ stiffly, she remembers her manners and steps aside. ]
[ Ah. She doesn't want him there, that's easy to see. Really, he should have asked. He wouldn't want the person that assaulted him just showing up at his door. Winter debates on whether he should actually accept the invitation before stepping over the threshold.
He moves to the middle of the room and waits. He gives her a once-over. She seems to be moving okay, though still with an err of caution. Understandable. Unforgivable for him to have laid a hand on her. ]
Better than I did yesterday. [ she stands with her arms at awkward angles. peggy has been surrounded by would-be nursemaids and fussers for too long, and she realizes she's gone soft. her hard outer shell with which she might greet an uncomfortable situation now feels a little foreign to her. ] Every day sees improvement.
[ It's good to hear that she's doing better, even if it's a slow process. He knows he hurt her badly, but she didn't specify just what that meant. He can use his imagination. ]
I'm fine.
[ The answer comes almost immediately. Physically, he's healed. A bit of trouble from time to time in his leg, but otherwise fine. His left arm still hasn't been fixed and dangles lifelessly at his side, though hidden with layers. Easier to deal with the locals without worrying about skin contact. ]
[ she eyes that arm, and can remember the crunching impact of his metal fist on her body. for a moment, she feels woozy. perhaps she wasn't as ready for this as she first thought -- but it's something worth pressing past. getting beyond. peggy must adapt and make peace. the fleet's too small not to. ]
Won't you...[ -- a break. a pause. she clears her throat. ] Take a seat, please. We should talk.
[ It was a mistake coming here, he should have just stayed away until she came to him- if she ever did. His eyes flick between an empty chair and the closed door, wondering if it would just be easier to hastily apologize and make his retreat.
He sighs through his nose, moving slowly and deliberately over to the chair and sitting. His metal arm gets pulled closer toward himself. Look, see? He's not going to cause any trouble over here. ]
I'll have to be. [ she stays standing. perhaps she needs the illusion of power over the moment. ] We can't go avoiding each other for the rest of our stay, can we?
Even if I did -- Winter, say I did say so? We've Steve to think of. [ and rogers wouldn't abide by so sudden and telling a rift. and yet, she isn't doing this for steve. not really.
because before steve came to the fleet, she'd taken this man as her date on the poisoned moon. she loved him like she might have loved a brother, once.
love didn't make this any simpler. even now, she marveled at how easy forgiveness came to steve rogers by comparison to her. ]
[ Of course there's Steve to think of. He's still harboring residual feelings of doubt and uncertainty, but in light of certain events.. the guy is his best friend. Has been for a long time, and damn if he doesn't have context for it now.
Opinions change. Orders change. He's no stranger to that. ]
It is. [ she assures him, as she assures herself. because they both needed assurances in the tossing, choppy sea-water left in the wake of this tragedy. ] It is what I want. I don't care to lose you.
[ but -- she has to ask herself -- has he already been lost? not to his own humanity -- winter's guilt proves that true enough. but she doesn't know how to relax with him again. ]
[ He doesn't expect her to trust him again. It hurts a bit, that the friendship that had been so carefully cultivated has withered. At least she knows what kind of a time bomb she's mucking around with now. ]
I didn't want to hurt you.
[ He says it almost like a plea. Please believe me. She's been in his mind, though she neglected to see his true nature, instead focusing on the past that had been scattered and left to collect dust. Still clinging to the man who died in a snowy ravine. ]
I can say with utter sincerity that I never thought you did. Still don't. [ but sincerity can only do so much. an agent like her doesn't thrive in her occupation by relying on trust, on love, and on pure hunch. it's a melange of mistrust and instinctive uncertainty that brings a spy healthily and successfully through her career. and she ignored those two tendencies when she befriended winter.
it occurs to her she'd ignored it a great deal since having settled into the fleet. being leagues away from her work has softened her. and so perhaps what she resents the most is how he exposed that soft underbelly. ]
Was it the Atroma? [ she tackles the question head on. ] Steve said you heard them.
[ He never expected, or wanted, her to find out about him in the manner that she had. Maybe someone can't truly understand that he's a monster until they're looking him dead in the eye. It's a hard lesson, wondering if they can ever trust again. Who the hell could trust someone who can break your ribs with a single punch? ]
I heard a voice in my head. [ Most thoughts lead to the Atroma, but there's still a part of him that wonders if he imagined it. But why, after so long being okay? ]
A woman. I couldn't block it out. Then everything went dark and I woke up on the Red Fish.
[ He knows the damage done in between, and clearly people are still dealing with his wreckage. Maybe he won't see anyone about his arm. He's, at the very least, easier to take down now. ]
[ her throat is tight. peggy asks the questions he knows she shouldn't ask, but it tumbles out regardless. sometimes, her nature gets the better of her: ] Everything went dark. Barnes, [ -- that name, it chokes her up. ]
[ He looks at her very briefly, then turns his attention back onto the intricate pattern in the woodwork on the table near him. It's something to focus on that's not the face disappointed in him.
The truth is, he really doesn't remember- not much. Nor anything useful. Some of it is coming back, but he's been able to fill in the holes with the network and the path of destruction that finally ended in the gym.
Some of the faces have started to come back in nightmares, though he doesn't trust its accuracy. ]
Then I would feel sorry for you, James Barnes. [ her confession came out like one low breath. ] Because that would be a great deal of awful to remember. Better to not recall any of it.
As far as things he's got to remember goes, hurting people who didn't deserve it or were only trying to help is low on the list of really fucked up memory.
She can feel sorry for him all she wants, that's not his problem. He doesn't want her pity, but if that's what their friendship has become, then it's his fault. ]
I confess, his 'powers' make me nervous -- but...[ for a moment, she seems at a rare loss for her words. ] Tell me, has what happened at all influenced how you see his offer of help?
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and when she sees him -- her palm steadied on the door -- something in her expression falters. peggy isn't often caught so completely off her guard. she stammers: ] H-hello.
[ silence. she watches him. then: ] Won't...won't you come in?
[ stiffly, she remembers her manners and steps aside. ]
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He moves to the middle of the room and waits. He gives her a once-over. She seems to be moving okay, though still with an err of caution. Understandable. Unforgivable for him to have laid a hand on her. ]
How are you feeling?
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[ she swallows hard. ] But how are you?
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I'm fine.
[ The answer comes almost immediately. Physically, he's healed. A bit of trouble from time to time in his leg, but otherwise fine. His left arm still hasn't been fixed and dangles lifelessly at his side, though hidden with layers. Easier to deal with the locals without worrying about skin contact. ]
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Won't you...[ -- a break. a pause. she clears her throat. ] Take a seat, please. We should talk.
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He sighs through his nose, moving slowly and deliberately over to the chair and sitting. His metal arm gets pulled closer toward himself. Look, see? He's not going to cause any trouble over here. ]
Are you sure you're ready to talk to me?
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[ impractical. ]
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All you'd have to do is say so.
[ He'd do it for her if she were uncomfortable with him. Easy enough to avoid one person. ]
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Even if I did -- Winter, say I did say so? We've Steve to think of. [ and rogers wouldn't abide by so sudden and telling a rift. and yet, she isn't doing this for steve. not really.
because before steve came to the fleet, she'd taken this man as her date on the poisoned moon. she loved him like she might have loved a brother, once.
love didn't make this any simpler. even now, she marveled at how easy forgiveness came to steve rogers by comparison to her. ]
I don't care to run away from this.
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Opinions change. Orders change. He's no stranger to that. ]
If it's what you want.
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[ but -- she has to ask herself -- has he already been lost? not to his own humanity -- winter's guilt proves that true enough. but she doesn't know how to relax with him again. ]
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I didn't want to hurt you.
[ He says it almost like a plea. Please believe me. She's been in his mind, though she neglected to see his true nature, instead focusing on the past that had been scattered and left to collect dust. Still clinging to the man who died in a snowy ravine. ]
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it occurs to her she'd ignored it a great deal since having settled into the fleet. being leagues away from her work has softened her. and so perhaps what she resents the most is how he exposed that soft underbelly. ]
Was it the Atroma? [ she tackles the question head on. ] Steve said you heard them.
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I heard a voice in my head. [ Most thoughts lead to the Atroma, but there's still a part of him that wonders if he imagined it. But why, after so long being okay? ]
A woman. I couldn't block it out. Then everything went dark and I woke up on the Red Fish.
[ He knows the damage done in between, and clearly people are still dealing with his wreckage. Maybe he won't see anyone about his arm. He's, at the very least, easier to take down now. ]
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Do you remember what happened?
[ each blow. each stride. each hijacked action. ]
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[ He looks at her very briefly, then turns his attention back onto the intricate pattern in the woodwork on the table near him. It's something to focus on that's not the face disappointed in him.
The truth is, he really doesn't remember- not much. Nor anything useful. Some of it is coming back, but he's been able to fill in the holes with the network and the path of destruction that finally ended in the gym.
Some of the faces have started to come back in nightmares, though he doesn't trust its accuracy. ]
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As far as things he's got to remember goes, hurting people who didn't deserve it or were only trying to help is low on the list of really fucked up memory.
She can feel sorry for him all she wants, that's not his problem. He doesn't want her pity, but if that's what their friendship has become, then it's his fault. ]
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Tell me. Have you been talking more with that professor? The one who believes he can help?
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[ Gone for help and fixed it, to his knowledge. ]
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And?
[ ...was it a success? ]
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[ Honestly, he can't tell whether it worked or not. He certainly doesn't feel any different. ]
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