stark_spangled | [Personal Log] It's Just an Old-Fashioned Love Song ; Peggy Carter, Deck 7

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[Personal Log] It's Just an Old-Fashioned Love Song ; Peggy Carter, Deck 7

[Right after this happens...]

Peggy. Peggy is on the Enterprise.

Bucky had been upset -- whatever they talked about had really done a number on him -- but all Steve can think about is Peggy is on the ship. At first he thought she would be old, much like he was even if he didn't look it; the Peggy he left in DC. As Bucky ranted and raved, it became clearer that it was more possible it was the Peggy he knew during the war. Steve has a hard time processing that, even if her picture never leaves his mind.

Once Bucky's settled, and Steve's sure he's not going to do anything to hurt himself, he moves into the halls, bent on hunting down the chief of security. If Peggy is here, he'll know where she is. There's a ball of nerves nestled tight under his ribcage, making him anxious, impatient, aggravated when he can't find the lieutenant, movements quick and choppy. For whatever reason he needs to find her, and he needs to find her now. He's about to start knocking on doors until he finds the right one, but his eyes drift to the computers instead.

Right. This shouldn't be too hard. Steve walks to the wall panel, leaning both palms against it, and stares blankly at the LCARS display. "Uh. Computer? Do you have a Margaret 'Peggy' Carter on file?" It chimes, and the automated voice answers: "Peggy Carter is located on Deck 7, Room #0733."

Steve cranes his neck down the hall, pushing off in the direction of her room before he remembers his manners.

"Thanks," he says, before jogging away from the computer. His feet move quick, that ball of nerves turning into a small boulder; he doesn't know why he feels nervous, why he's breathing fast and fighting off panic, why he has to get down the hall as fast as he can to make her door chime sound, why every second he waits outside, hoping for her to answer, is a kind of slow torture he was never trained for -- but that's where he finds himself, braced against the doorjamb, hoping she'll answer.

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When first she speaks, it brings a little pang to his heart. It had taken some time for him to pick up the phone and call her, back in his "new time" after the Battle of New York. But the second he did, the second he heard her voice, it didn't take any time at all to visit. Because that was Peggy, always brilliant and magnetic, always so easy to be with even when he was making a complete ass of himself.

He looks down at her with nothing but kindness and appreciation, thumb brushing gently across the apple of her cheek. The laugh makes him smile on instinct, and the little jab has him huffing a chuckle. It's true, in so many ways; he did need to hear it.

"I'm working on it," he says. He can work on his timing so much easier than he can learn to forgive himself for all those missed opportunities. "We can talk about anything you want to. It's just good hearing your voice."

He needs to tell her about waking up, about what happened, but he hasn't thought hard enough yet on how to explain S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers and knowing about her future. And maybe he shouldn't even tell her at all. He'll do right by her, because he could never stand it otherwise, but if she'd rather have a moment to just be together he isn't going to argue. "Um. Do you want to... go for a walk?"

The hallways aren't exactly cozy or inviting, but it's how he learned to ask a girl to spend time with him, and entering her room -- it doesn't feel right.

Similar yet different. Although Peggy can't begrudge those differences when Steve has gotten past his shyness enough to hold and touch her. There are other changes that will probably concern her later but for now she'll enjoy this luxury.

"I'd prefer that you continue to be late if those improvements mean another situation like the last one." Somehow she keeps her tone light despite the ache in her chest. "My ego can withstand your tardiness."

Smiling up at him, she realizes she has no idea what to ask. Yes, she could as the how and whys but they don't seem as important now. "I knew that I'd hear your voice again." Her last memory of it wouldn't be filled with static and loss. That certainty might have wavered occasionally when Stark's reports had been filled with no hint of where the wreck might be, but she had known Steve wouldn't disappoint her. He was far too stubborn to not find a way to return. "I think your stories will be more interesting than mine."

Part of her didn't want to move yet Peggy knew that they couldn't stay like this no matter how much she might want to. And that walk might mean more than just a chance to catch up, knowing she would have considered it more than that if he had asked during the war. "I would love to, Steve.

He lets out a soft breath, something almost like laughing and getting the wind knocked out of him at the same time. He doesn't know if he can ever get used to this feeling, like his heart is in a vice and light as a feather all at once; guilt over that 'situation like the last one' mixing with amusement at her following jab. She really is something, and he'd never want to put her through that kind of pain again. Which just makes everything weighing on his mind that much harder. He takes a deep breath and returns the smile, stepping to one side so she can pass.

"I couldn't leave things between us on the threat of squashed toes," he jokes, mimicking her light tone. "I've missed that about you. Your faith. Your stubbornness."

His laughter is a little stronger this time. They share that in common, at least. Steve believes that Peggy could move mountains if she wanted to; calling him up from the dead would be child's play. He nods a little, more to himself than anything, working out where he should start. His hand instinctively moves to the small of her back as she leaves her room, but he soon pockets them both, a little overcome with shyness like he half expected she'd say no.

"I know you and Howard did everything you could to find me. I must have been a real pain, always disappearing like that. The, uh. The ice -- shifted, and the plane was almost irrecoverable. It wasn't your fault. When they found me, they had to cut me out. I don't know if even Howard had the kind of tools they needed to find me." Which brings them to the most important part of his story. "The year, back where I was before I ended up here, was 2014. They only found me 2 years ago. It's -- been 70 years for me, Peg."

He glances over at her, waiting to see how she reacts.

"I think that was an idle thread, Captain." The rank sounds more affectionate than she would have allowed in the field. Now that she's accepting the shock of it, she feels steadier, ready to move forward to whatever is next. Steve had been given a gift, a second chance - or is it third now? - and she isn't going to let it be ruined by regrets. Not when she would have made the same choices if their roles had been reversed. "If you can fight, then you can dance."

At least he seems more settled now, thinking of the present instead of radio call. "My stubbornness? You have more than your share of that trait. And of faith." How else could he have went through the procedure and everything that followed if he hadn't had faith in them all.

Biting her lower lip, she hides the smile that almost gets the better of her when she notices that familiar shyness. It's sweet and reassuring that some things haven't changed. Stepping closer, Peggy rests her hand on his elbow. "You weren't a pain, Steve. I just wish we had had more to go on."

Perhaps then they would have been able to track the plane and find him before...

Her thoughts still when he says how much time it had been. Seventy years. Her steps falter, hand trembling minutely on his arm. They'd failed. They had left Steve to what had must have been a frozen hell for seventy years. The color drains from her face and for a moment, she's afraid she'll be ill. She attempts to speak, but she can't seem to make a sound, looking up at him in horror.

Barnes had hinted at what had happened, but she had thought it was part of the instability that had caused him to lose his memory. "I..."

It all feels like a walk in the park at first, her smile and Steve's laughter, the comfort that comes from having her beside him, the way her hand curls around his elbow and he involuntarily keeps his arm crooked the way a gentlemen would. He's missed her spark, too: the way she gives no quarter, pointing out his flaws in tandem with her own (not that he would ever deny it); the cut of her jib, and her easy poise.

It's enough to make him want to tease back, to fall into idle conversation about the Stork Club, or that day back in Brooklyn, or Howard Stark, or really anything other than what they're going to talk about. He doesn't get the chance before he senses the hitch in her step, watching the color drain from her face. His smile instantly turns into a frown of concern, and he slides his hand over the one trembling at his elbow.

"Hey," he says gently, half turning to face her. "I'm OK, Peg. I promise. For me it was like taking a nap. A really, really long nap."

His lips twitch, but the humor is forced and a little flat. His fingers curl around hers. "I missed out on some really great years, but the future isn't so bad. The worst part of it was knowing that all that time you thought I was dead. I'm-- I'm sorry. I wish I could have done things differently."

Part of her knows that she shouldn't react until she's alone. She's been hoping for this moment for too long to ruin it but the idea of what Steve had went through is too terrible to be simply pushed aside. Even if Steve is telling the truth and it had been relatively painless, it still is horrifying.

Swallowing hard, she manages a faint quirk of her lips that perhaps they both can pretend is a smile. "Of course it was. With all the finest amenities." At least her voice doesn't crack or betray the guilt she knows will be shadowing her thoughts.

"If things had gone differently, then Schmidt would have won." It's one of the beliefs Peggy had clung to so the grief didn't get the better of her. It still had at times, but she'd always managed to struggle through it.

"You can't regret not being there with us or for making the same decision we all would have made." Slowly her smile becomes more genuine despite the guilt. "There's no need to apologize. You were saved and you're here now. That's what truly matters."

He knows when she's bottling up, holding back, and as much as he has always loved her smile, right now it's breaking his heart. He doesn't know what to do, and that's not a good feeling.

So he takes his cues from her, smiling tightly, tenderly pushing her hair behind her ear. He breathes a wry laugh. He wouldn't have known even if there was a 5-star hotel buried under the ice with him, but he doesn't joke about it. Not this time. There may not be anything he can say to keep her from her regrets, just like there's nothing she can say to keep him from his. Fact is, he does regret not being there with them till the end of it all. He does regret not asking her out on a proper date.

But he doesn't regret his choice to stop Schmidt, no matter the cost. And they both know it.

"Yeah," he answers lamely. At least now she knows what really happened to him, and he can make up for that one thing. "And Peg? There isn't anyone I would have trusted more to keep doing what we started than you."

He makes sure she can see the depth of his sincerity in his eyes. If she were to fall apart right now it wouldn't ruin a thing in Steve's mind; he's not asking her to be OK with everything that happened, and he's not asking her to accept his apologies, but above everything else he wants her to know he's proud of her.

For what feels like a long time, she simply watches him, taking in the little details that would tell her the truth. Almost everyone thought Steve was a terrible liar, but she knew that he could when needed. Before the serum he had been forced to pretend that the world's insults hadn't bother him just as Peggy had. If hiding the truth meant she wasn't hurt, then that was what Steve would do.

But the signs aren't there. It hadn't been as awful as her imagination supplied, or if it had, he didn't remember it.

"There were a few bobbles along the way but I did what I could." Even if that had been serving coffee to agents who didn't have a bit of common sense. "Or... I will?" The words come out more as a question because she hasn't exactly had that much impact on their work. Howard had promoted her but she hadn't even had a chance to speak with him before she'd ended up on the Enterprise.

For a moment, that thought is almost as important as knowing that Steve is alive. After all the setbacks and doubt, she had done something important. "It's really not fair that you know so much about me. You should tell me about how you got here." That should be a relatively safe topic.

He watches her sharp eyes dance over him like she can see straight through him, right down to the marrow, and instead of feeling uncomfortable it just makes him smile. Small, and affectionate, and a little bashful, wistfully remembering all the looks that preceded this one. Even in the heat of conflict, they'd always found time.

It's probably not the answer she's hoping for, but there's pride in his eyes to go with the knowing grin. Past, present, and future, Peggy has always been his greatest support. His ally, and his standard. In a lot of ways, she was always the better of the two of them.

"I promise, it's all good things," he laughs, offering her his arm before he turns back to the path ahead. His steps are slow and absent, his mind more on the question and all the things he should (and cannot) say. "The story's not that interesting. I've taken up working with a -- international security agency. One of the headquarters is in Washington, D.C.. That's where I was when suddenly I found myself in the middle of the bar here. I think I was one of the first to arrive."

He glances at her, the look lingering long past casual. "How about you? Where were you when you were brought aboard?"

It shouldn't be so easy to fall into the roles that they'd had before. So much had changed for them both but in some ways, it seems like nothing had. Steve still had that shyness that had seemed to conflict with the sheer stubborn drive that had impressed her during his training. Perhaps if he hadn't smiled at her like that - the same sort of smile that had always made her heart flutter no matter how much it made her feel like a foolish schoolgirl - things would seem different.

"I don't completely believe that. There are always mistakes." But her voice sounds more hopeful than her usual seriousness. Honestly, there are times when Peggy wonders how she kept her sanity during the last few months.

"I'm sure that it was more interesting than you've let on." But if Steve didn't want to talk about it, she won't push for answers. "But all of that is classified?" It's an easy solution and one that Peggy really won't have to rely since most of her work had been as a secretary.

The thought causes her to hesitate a moment, not wanting to ruin their reunion with those frustrations. "I returned to the States after the war and worked for the SSR. Howard had just called to announced that I would be running his latest project."

Looking up at him, she laughed softly. "I cleaned out my desk and stepped onto the lift. When I stepped off, I was here."

Maybe it's because Steve and Peggy have lived relatively the same amount of years apart that makes this easier. There are no 70 years of memories, no children or grandchildren, no modern D.C. to contend with their reunion. Just the soldier, and his best gal.

"Classified, yeah," he nods slowly, because that is a complicated question to answer. In his day she's long been retired, but is there really anything a former Director of SHIELD couldn't know? Before he can think too long on it, she's continuing. He looks at her, piecing together the year she must be coming in from down to the exact month. Her career is one of the first things he caught himself up on after the Battle of New York. "What kind of project?"

He may already know the answer, but it's smarter to let her tell him herself.

Classified, just like Howard's new project, but she knows that Stark would have recruited Steve along with her if it had been possible. And if she is chosen as Director, then it's her choice to tell Steve.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Howard chose me as Director. He was one of the few left that thought I might have a use outside of the office." The frustration she'd felt before has been tempered by her new circumstances, distance soothing old wounds. "Not everyone was as willing to have a woman out in the field as you were."

But that doesn't seem to be a problem now. The ship is a wonder in its equality. Peggy's seen every sort of person imaginable and some she never would have thought of important roles. "It seems that in the future, that problem has been corrected. It makes me hopeful that things will get better."

The shift in his demeanor will be noticeable to someone like Peggy, as subtle as it is. OK, so she knows about S.H.I.E.L.D.. There are a lot of long decades ahead, a lot of history and missions -- not all of which Steve has the clearance to know about -- but at least tiptoeing around the future has gotten a little easier.

"I've heard of it," he says, in his dry Brooklyn way. He pulls up short when she continues, the lopsided smirk knocked from his face. "What?"

It shouldn't surprise him, really. He remembers the way things were, the way things sometimes still are; but Peggy Carter was a war hero long before he disappeared. Decorated, dedicated, her competence beyond dispute. What general or director in their right mind would stick her in an office? Steve's brows knit, unhappiness marking his face.

"We've still got a lot of work to do," he mutters, lumping himself in with the rest of the country and the world beyond that. If the climate isn't changing, it's as much his fault as it is anyone else's, and he takes responsibility for that. "But it's definitely not the world it was before the war. I'm sorry it didn't change faster."

She'll know that final remark is more of a veiled 'I wish I could have been there to teach those schmoes a lesson' than an apology. He knows Peggy took care of herself, so while he can't say he doesn't wish he was there to look out for her, it's more like he can't stand the idea of any fellow, high rank or not, squandering their best chances at rebuilding based on prejudice.

"You have? Let me guess... that's classified as well." She doesn't expect an answer but it does seem possible that Steve might have worked with S.H.I.E.L.D.. She's about to tease him about that when she notices the sudden seriousness, confused by it for a moment. "The office? I was demoted after the war. No one would put a woman in the field. Even one who had fought beside Captain America."

Especially one who had fought beside Captain America. She wouldn't tell him the rumors of how she had earned her place with the Howling Commandos. Not unless he demanded it. "My role in the war has changed from soldier to damsel in distress." Keeping her tone light, she gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Every great hero needs someone to rescue."

Squeezing his arm, her expression steadies as she looks up at him. "You gave me a chance, Steve. You changed the world in that moment. It's not your fault that those idiots couldn't see things the way you did." Pausing for a moment, mischief brightens her eyes. "Although, there were times when I would imagine you teaching Dooley a lesson in manners."

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[Personal Log] It's Just an Old-Fashioned Love Song ; Peggy Carter, Deck 7

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