| Peggy Checks In | |||||
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| What: In the wee small hours of the hellicarrier, some old friends chat | |||||
Bucky Barnes still hasn't really gotten the hang of regular hours.. maybe that was never a strong suit of his, or maybe it's a recent thing. He's not sure, but whatever the case, this night finds him back in the computer bay wearing SHIELD issue sweat pants and a t-shirt, clicking through tabs with headphones perched on his head. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the distraction these present, he chose a computer in a corner with a good view of the door and room in general. Though he didn't bother to turn on the room's lights. Most of the place is trying to sleep, after all. He is whistling a jaunty little tune idly to himself though. It sounds strangely all alone in the dark, accompanied only by the still hum of computing equipment.
It's late by any sane person's standards, but then there probably wasn't all that much sanity on the SHIELD helicarrier. Peggy got back from the longest day she had since being unfrozen late as it was, then there was the debrief to give, a careful walk back to her quarters and fairly painful re-taping of her ribs. She didn't care for any of them to see that she wasn't near the invincible museum figure they all thought, so she took the bandaging into her own hands. She didn't bother with a dress tonight, pulling on a pair of the training pants she'd borrowed and a white tank top over her bandages and bra. The pants are too large and hang low on her hips. This is the most modern she's possibly ever looked, only her old fashioned hair cut setting her apart from any trainee. Sleep didn't come, so she began looking for the man she intended to hunt down since those nights he'd watched over her in her first days. Time moved too damn fast. Finally, she catches wind of that whistling from the computer bay and steps inside the mostly dark room. She studies his face in the modern light of the computer, silent several heartbeats.
Her entrance doesn't go unnoticed, but this is proven mostly by the fact the whistling stops, and the figure half curled in front of the electric light turns slightly to watch her. He doesn't say anything, but she might notice the surprised raise of his eyebrows at her current state of dress. Yes, it's very nearly the same thing he's wearing, but if he was pressed he'd have to admit this was one person on which he just hadn't expected to see it mirrored. He's not sure if it this would be more less strange than the always put-together Pepper Potts sporting such an ensemble.
Peggy Carter is tired. She is tired to the bone, after the last two weeks and then today? Exhaustion has finally beat the need to keep that fiercely professional guise at all points in time. Especially when she's seen women walking about this carrier in nothing but sports bra and shorts, she is practically Victorian in comparison to that. Peg notices his whistling has stopped, so it's clear that she cannot study him unobserved. She gives him a half smile in the darkness, padding slowly across the room to bring herself up right next to his work station. "...Do I intrude?" Her voice is unmistakable, still calm and put together as always. It seemed incongruous with her frame at this moment.
Bucky Barnes pulls the headphones down around his neck and smiles wanly, though it's hard to tell in the light if the expression is genuine or sardonic. He gestures to the chair next to his hospitably with the hand not resting on the mouse. The fingers, and indeed the whole arm visible to the sleeve flashes silver along overlapping panels in the white light. She's caught him chatting more like she might recall with Widow, or the brazen new agent Morrigan, but he still seems taciturn by default. He does comment though, "You're up late."
"Too tired to sleep." Peggy knows he's had those nights before -- they all have. She does take the chair, though, gently pulling it back and shifting around to sink down into sitting. She keeps 99 percent of the pain off her face, but her motions are a touch too ginger and gentle. Pair it with the fact she stops breathing for just a moment as she sits, and chances are she's re-cracked at least one healing rib. She says nothing about it, just settles into the chair there.
"Right." Bucky agrees with a chuckle to her comment about being tired. If he notices the careful way she moves, he doesn't comment on it.
"...I... I wanted to stop in. Say...hullo. Check on you. I know you stayed those first few nights. You... you didn't have to, Bucky." But her voice is a bit softer as she says that. She appreciated it.
Any trace of mirth falls from his face as she speaks. "I did." Bucky corrects simply, almost gravely. "With how they found you. I needed to." he shrugs, the habitually direct man's eyes now falling away with a frown. He continues though, "Glad you were alright, anyhow. Know he is too."
That comment draws a slight look of concern to her features, her head tilting to the side, "...Needed... to? Why? I... I was fine, Bucky. You know me. Moment I woke up I could have taken on half a nazi platoon. They're just over protective here." Peg cracks a smile as she says that, trying to be reassuring about it, even if she's still a bit confused about his over protectiveness in the room. She doesn't bring up Steve herself, yet, though her expression slips back into neutral as he is obliquely mentioned.
Bucky Barnes laughs at Peggy's cheeky bravado, a surprised sound it seems like he hadn't meant to make. But he shakes his head. "Nah, They got good reason." he replies. Registering the rest of her words, his expression becomes one of someone who is realizing something unpleasant is on the horizon, but it clears quickly. He never was one to mince around something that needed to be done, pleasant or no. "Guess no one filled you in, though. Thing is I, uh. I don't. Actually know you... Not really." he explains, "I don't remember much."
While she'd gotten bits and pieces, how bad the damage was certainly *wasn't* fully explained to her. A touch of surprise, something rare for Peggy Carter, crosses her face. It's followed a heartbeat later by earnest concern. "...He said you... you'd been through shite. Things were bad. They managed to get you back. Not much more. I...I didn't realize you'd lost that much." Her head then tilts, a line of confusion tracing through her dark gaze. She never wavers from watching his handsome face. "...If you don't know who I am, why stay those nights? Why care? What... what *do* you remember?" She dares to ask, never one to hide from the hard questions, even if her soft, accented voice is barely a whisper in the room. She didn't need to be any louder.
"Yeah, it wasn't so great. 'S part of why everyone was all stirred up over finding you the same way, I guess. On ice with HYDRA." at her question Bucky is silent awhile, eyes wandering and expression vague as he mulls it over. No one's really asked him that before, but he doesn't see as that's any reason not to answer."I... remember...I remember he had your picture in..something. Pocket watch, maybe, something round. I remember your voice. That you're a crack shot. Real firecracker... I remember a red dress. Like your lipstick." he gestures to her face, even if she's not wearing it right now with the casual dress and the late hour. He trails off, and then shrugs again. "Not a lot else I can really put into words. Sometimes maybe I think I know how you'll react to something." he seems rather detached about the whole matter.
"That... actually explains a lot more now, instead of my just assuming they were all ready to treat me like a baby barely out of her pram." Peggy had ruffled quite unhappily at being kept in medical those last few days, but her complaining and spitfire attitude had probably been one of the first things to actually help convince people she was firmly herself. "...I got lucky, all things considered." She's not saying that ironically. Compared to what he went through, she did. His next words pull a genuine, little smile out of her, almost shy, just an upturn of the edge of her lips. She might even be blushing a little, but it's hard to tell in the lacking light. She listens, letting him finish, even with his detached way of explaining things. Once he's done, she murmurs softly. "So... the important things. You remember the things that *matter*. The things that...make us who we are." She's not saying it just to be reassuring, she genuinely seems to believe her words.
Bucky Barnes blinks, giving her a baffled, confused sort of look. "Something you wore once is what matters? The fact photographs of you exist? I don't..." he grimaces now. She seemed so sensible and businesslike. No-nonsense, that's Peggy, right? Maybe? "I guess I'll..take your word for it." though he sounds pretty dubious. "Anyhow, yeah. That's why everyone was trying to wrap you in cotton."
That was Peggy, yes, but possibly things forgotten about her is that she can read a person almost as expertly as she can shoot them. She shifts in the chair now, turning it so she can face him dead on straight, so he can see just how calm and certain her pale face is in that dim light. "No. Not just something I wore once. But a dress on a night that...that mattered to all of us. We'd all gone to the bar. You and Steve were being boys about it all, teasing each other, rather making a mess of it. You tried to dance with me, I declined... I suspect that's the night you realized I rather..." She laughs a bit, an earnestly warm sound, happy, younger sounding than she normally is, "...Rather had it soft for your best friend. You remember things that matter to a man who was your best friend. You remember personality. You remember vital things to a combat situation. It's like... like looking at a picture in dim light. You don't have all the details, but the vivid bits, the pieces that help form the bigger picture, they're there. People aren't... we're not history books. We're little moments, passions, relationships, all those things muddled up together, to make something unique." She then goes quiet, perhaps realizing she has carried on a bit too long. The late hour puts her to thoughtfulness.
Bucky Barnes doesn't seem the least bit inclined to interrupt, holding his breath as he listens pensively to her reminiscing, to her assertions. And when she's run them out, he swallows. He opens his mouth to speak, stops, and then tries again. "..But I don't...know -why- those things are in there." he replies quietly, and raps at his head, anxious. "There's so much else that..ah, shit." he turns in the chair and stands up, angrily swiping at his rather over-long hair with one hand, going quiet as he collects himself for a moment.
"James." Peg was one of the few people that could get away with calling him that. Before, at least, during the war. Generally when he was in trouble for something or she was about to hand him a fairly dangerous operation. She says it with the same tone, both stern and caring, meant to immediately get his attention even as he loses himself in his own anger. "James. Look at me." She shifts into standing again, so she can come as close to meeting him eye to eye as possible, even if he still had several inches on her. "They are in there because they *matter*. They happened and they matter. So much else is just background noise. Even if they are in there because whatever bastards had you decided to leave you something to recognize those you cared about... does that change any way you treat people now? Does it mean you're going to stop caring? Are you going to walk off and turn your back on the people that mattered to you, or are you going to stay up in the bloody med bay for three days in a row because it still *matters* to you?"
It seems it still works, because he turns to her with a look that is almost startled in it's attentiveness. A lot of people now call him by the given name he used to barely tolerate, but somehow it sounds.. not wrong, but jarring, weighty, from her mouth. He stands stock still as she says her piece, looking shaken as she finishes with her question. But he doesn't argue this time. "I don't.. I don't know." he says, barely above a whisper. "..But I don't.. think you get that I..I was there watching over you.. in case you were like I was. In case you went after someone."
"Really? Was that the only reason?" Peggy slowly crosses her arms over her chest and levels her gaze with his. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that was the only reason you were sitting in that room."
Bucky Barnes meets her gaze this time, and there may even be a flicker of brash challenge left there from better days. But even if he doesn't turn away, he also doesn't reply. He finally sits back down in his seat, not having answered her challenge.
Peggy remains standing now, stepping just a touch closer so she's in range that she can unfold her arms and easily reach out to touch his longer hair. It's the most gentle of touches, smoothing it behind his ear for just a moment, though her hand comes to gently rest against his cheek a heartbeat later. "None of us is who we were back in the war. We're changed, grown... hurt. Perhaps a bit lost. But what is passed does not matter near so much as what we do now. Who we are now. You still care. You're still that man who cares so much... who would do *anything* to back up his friend -- and his unit. And that scares you because you'd also do anything to make certain he wasn't hurt."
Bucky Barnes' eyes narrow as she reaches out and he leans back slightly, though more from surprise than protest. He blinks when she smooths back his hair and touches his cheek.. and for a moment as she speaks she sees clearly in his eyes all the uncertainty she'd only been inferring to that point. "But I'm not." he whispers. And to his credit, if his voice cracks, it's only slightly. "I made sure to tell him straight off. Didn't want him, y'know, getting his hopes up. That his old pal was coming back." he swallows again, but presses on, reckless and determined despite the topic. "I can't remember the things he wants me to, or act like I'm supposed to. But he's too damn -good- to leave -anyone- in trouble, friend or not. Hell, he'd've helped me for the sake of his 'old friend' and opened the door for me if I was the devil incarnate. And maybe I'm not, but that guy? His friend.. he wouldn't've...he never would've.."
That soft, cool hand doesn't leave his cheek. Peggy remains there like an anchor, giving him a moment of physical grounding even when he fights with the most uncertain, most difficult parts of himself. "Would have never what, James? Tell me. You have to tell someone, or you're going to drive yourself to madness. And everyone has their breaking point. Any person will do anything once it gets to a certain point. No one, not even him, is infallible."
Bucky Barnes draws in a ragged breath, shaking his head slightly against the grounding touch of her hand. "I betrayed him." he barely gets out. "I don't even remember it, but I did, and yeah, yeah, you're right. You gotta do what's in front of you, and I ain't about to just lie down because of the things I did and not get back at the bastards behind it, I'm gonna do what I can to set things right, but it doesn't-- none of that can change what I...I'm not gonna let it drag me down, but I'm not gonna let it drag -him- down either! I'm not...that guy he remembers."
"Bucky..." Peg breathes out, barely a word, more air that sound. Her second hand comes up to brush over his other cheek, framing his face but not in any sort of threatening way. The touch is tender, almost motherly. She stares down into his eyes, her own dark gaze wide and aching. "He isn't either. He is not the Steve who washed out of recruitment four times, or who was even in the bar too scared to dance with me. He's changed too. He thought he lost you. He grieved. He grew. You don't have to be that guy. You *can't* ever be that guy. Too much time has passed. But you can still be Bucky. Here. Now. At his side. His friend. My friend. We grieved who you were before. Let us get to know who you are now."
The seconds stretch out with no answer as her words settle in, she standing, he sitting with his head bowed between her hands. Finally he sniffs, and leans forward, the top of his head bumping lightly against her middle as he draws in another ragged breath. "...Remembered something right..you are a force to be reckoned with." he says, the words tired, and drained of all but a trace of the jibing wit they were probably meant to have.
Those words bring a ragged, tired, but earnest little laugh from her throat. Peggy just shifts, wrapping her arms around his back instead of keeping her hands at his cheeks. She holds him there, close and warm, just letting them sit in broken silence together for a stretch of too many breaths. She finally turns her head, pressing a gentle kiss into that too-long hair, her cheek resting against the top of his head. "While I'm busy being right about things, you should get this bloody hair cut. What would the Lieutenant say if he saw you in this state? You'd be washed out or scrubbing a bathroom floor in two seconds flat." She teases him in a faint whisper against that hair. "But first... sleep. Come on. Both of us. Before they find us sprawled on the floor in here and all the rumors start." She gently tries to guide him out of the chair, hoping he'll show her where his quarters are, or she might end up taking him back to pass out in her's.
Bucky Barnes' breath still hitches from time to time, but he gets it evened out fairly quickly, though it doesn't seem to deter him from staying right where he is, at least for a little. He laughs ragged but honest at her comment about his hair. "Right? In all those old pictures I look like such a charming rascal. 'Guess no one's raised a stink so's this tub can keep running smoothly." he gets up again when she does, visibly wrung out, and sets the headphones down next to the monitor which went dark somewhere over the course of their conversation. He snorts a laugh at the idea of the two of them being found in a compromising position in their borrowed sweat clothes in the computer lab. "Bet they'd be some good rumors, though." he quips, following her out into the hall.
At this point, Peggy doesn't actually even bother trying to find his room. Unless he protests, she just heads back to her tiny set of 'guest' quarters (maybe they'd be her's if she stays on the team), and swipes the door open. "No. No protests. If people want to spread rumors, I will set them straight and they will *know* not to do it again." Even exhausted, that's the tone that can put the fear of god in almost anyone. "You. Down. Get below the sheet and I'll stay above it and use the blanket. Both of us, at least six hours sleep. I'm making it a bloody order." She can still do that, right? This time of the night, she doesn't care. She'll pull back the sheet, nodding him into the small full bed, before settling chastely atop it as she said she would. A warmer blanket is pulled up over both of them and she sinks back into the pillow, killing the light on her way. "...Sweet dreams, Bucky." She whispers. Her breath will even out within minutes.
Bucky Barnes does raise an eyebrow when she starts shepherding him along, but shrugs with a chuckle that suggests he fully believes in her ability to do just as she says if anyone wants to cause trouble over it. He does stall out when he realizes that even being SHIELD's long lost darling apparently doesn't afford her a sitting room, though she's already spouting clipped accented plans and and orders before he can do more than open his mouth. He shrugs in response, and does as she said. He may not remember much, but he remembers enough, especially after her filling in some blanks earlier, to not be the least bit fooled by her comments on his looks. He rolls on his side, giving her as much room as he reasonably can, and then shows no signs of moving for the foreseeable future. He's still internalizing Peggy's words, but. Somehow it's a relief he wasn't expecting.. that sense of belonging. Of acceptance not sprung from some nagging sense of duty or false hopes. "You too, Peg." he answers. It takes him longer to actually find sleep as he turns the matter over in his mind. But in the end when he finally does, it's more restful than he's had in some time.