stark_spangled | [Personal Log:] A Dream is but a Dream... for peggy

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[Personal Log:] A Dream is but a Dream... for peggy_carter

Steve feels like he's just getting back on his feet. Not that he'd ever willingly admit it out loud, but losing Peggy for the second time in a row was hard on him. It took the better part of two years to get over her after waking up the first time ... and only then because he could see her, and talk to her in D.C. (once he worked up the nerve to pick up the phone). Even if time had different plans for them than dancing at the Stork Club and sharing a kiss on V-E Day, he still considered her one of his closest friends and most trusted confidantes.

And then he came here, and there she was. Not retired Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Margaret Carter, but Peggy. His Peggy. Like looking back through time at the second chance they never got.

And he squandered it.

There's a part of him who believes he did the right thing. She lived a life after he "died". A good life, full of family, children, love; a life where she rose to all of her aspirations, not that he ever doubted she would. Director Carter. He's damn proud of her for that. Everyone on this ship talks about getting home, stopping Q, and could Steve have lived with himself if he took Peggy away from that life because he selfishly wanted his second chance? He finally broke down, asked her on a date, and maybe it was fate punishing him that sent Peg home before that date ever happened. Still, there's some other part of him that will always kick himself wondering what if?

It's taken a few months to stop brooding, mostly at the prodding and eye-rolling of his friends on board, but he thinks maybe things can get back to the way they were. Maybe he can move on this time.

And then he sees her again.

He's walking out of the room he shares with Akito on his way to the gym, pocketing an iPod that's going to run out of battery life eventually, when he catches her going into a room a few doors away out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he's just seeing things, but the way his chest constricts and his mouth turns to cotton is without reason.

"Peg?" he calls, twin lines forming between his brows, watching and waiting to see if the apparition turns back.

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She knew the feeling, though she had given up foolish dreams in favor of devoting herself to her work. But perhaps there was more than that. "I did see you, everyday in the men who lived through the war and in the pride of your country." He might not have ended the war singlehandedly but he had contributed so much that it became possible to end it at all. He was in everything, they even still made comic books about him.

Her own contributions were rarely recalled, but for her that was alright. She'd come to terms with having to measure her own worth and not need anyone else's approval for it. Her free hand covered his, an act so simple and yet not something they'd had the time to share before.

"No, I was always rather more interested in the man behind it." As hard as that might be for him to believe. No need to go into the imaginings of her late nights or the ways she might have envisioned things going if he had survived and come home.

"If you're not comfortable with the idea, it's not something I want you to feel pressured for." He hadn't resisted her kisses, nor had he fought off Private Loraine. But that didn't mean he was ready or willing to step further than that. Her respect for him was too great for her to ever presume, regardless of personal attraction.

Back in D.C., there'd been opportunities for them to talk more freely than they ever got during the war with Peggy distinguished, married, neither of them restrained by 1940s sensibilities -- but it's still hard for him to get his mind around the way she looks at him. To him, every last one of his successes go right back to the men and women who backed him up, Peggy foremost among them.

God help the first person to tell him about the Captain America radio show, or a choice number of those old comics. If he knew half of what she's been going through since the war he'd find a way to punch right through the time-space issue and have those producers and the S.S.R. schmucks pinned to a wall.

He smirks softly as she speaks on. He wasn't going to presume what she meant until she makes it pretty inescapable to him. Maybe it will surprise her that he doesn't hem and haw, shift around in his seat or act like a frightened puppy; the touch of her hand grounds him every bit as much as it excites him, and he thinks back to the dozens of times he wanted to hold her just like this and never took the chance.

"That's not gonna be a problem," he answers, exhaling a short laugh. She has to know how attracted he's always been to her. There weren't enough Hail Marys in the world to atone for the number of times his own late night imaginings took an intimate turn. While the other soldiers had Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth pinned to their tents and tucked into their breast pockets, Steve fell asleep picturing her dark eyes and full lips, confident she could chase off the horrors burned into his mind with just one sure, refined word. Peggy knows how soldiers can be, and Steve had months before the front lines touring with the USO girls. There's a difference between being inexperienced and wholesome-minded, and choosing to stay a gentleman for the right gal (and for his ma, who raised him to be the man Erskine saw and who, as it turns out, Peggy Carter fell for). He shyly looks away, free hand rubbing at his neck, but two years in the service and another two in the belly of "the future" has rounded off some of that kid from Brooklyn's blunt edges, and the difference between the kid who sat next to her in the back of a 1939 Buick Special and the guy sitting next to her now is visible in all the small ways he carries himself.

"It's just that ... I waited so long before, and yeah, now I could tell myself we'd be making up for lost time, not wasting another minute; I could sweep you up like Rhett Butler and carry you next door," he begins, pausing with one hand stretched toward his bedroom. It's like he realizes what he's saying for the first time and pulls his hand back, brow pinched and Adam's apple bobbing. "But, uh. But I don't want to rush into this, Peg. We've still got a lot to talk about, and you've always been ... "

Again, he's at a loss for words. Nothing in the dictionary could ever do her justice. "You deserve the best, and I want to do this right."

Knowing he was attracted to her, and him actually acting on it were different things. He was a gentleman and previously he had been nervous to even speak to a woman. That he could react with confidence if not bravado said much for how he had changed. And that change had only begun when they were toward the end of their association. He had changed much since the man she knew had vanished. Someone had been responsible for his change.

"I don't mind waiting, and as you say there are things worth waiting for. So long as I know it's something we both want, and we both want it to be right." She smiled, it was a particular curl of lips that was reserved only for him. It spoke of her pride, her admiration and her surprise in him. He was an evolving and changing man in all the best ways and that was not something one treated improperly. Something likes good tea, fine wine, a home cooked meal or him were best when savored in their own time.

"So, let's talk." She sat back, her hands moving to her lap to give him space enough to feel like he could speak freely. She didn't want him to feel pressured or rushed, like him she too wanted this to be right. After being so long denied to them, this chance needed to be taken, but in it's proper time.

"What have you been up to in, what I can't believe I am saying but, the future." it was a question she both wanted to have an answer to and feared.

She's right. He has changed in a lot of small ways, but in a lot of bigger ways he's still the same. His team in the future don't know him half as well as his team back home did, despite the fact that dying only increased his celebrity, but given enough time Peggy's bound to meet a few people who won't be shy telling her just how hopeless he still is with women. Or with being social in general. Every time his neighbor pokes her head out to say hello to him when he's coming home from work, he feels like a little kid.

He doesn't feel that way with Peggy. He trusts her with everything he is, and the fact that she still cares about him after all the things he's done wrong does give him confidence. And if he messes up again, at least his shield is close by. He's missed the way she smiles at him, and instead of that awkward uncertainty he used to answer with, he just smiles back a little more fondly. At least until she pulls her hands back, and he remembers where they are and why.

He clears his throat and settles back another few inches. Part of doing things right means not just courting her slowly, but making sure this is what she really wants. He's burdened with knowledge of the future he can't just forget, no matter how much he wants to. So he pulls his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, exhaling it in a soft laugh.

"Well, you don't have to boil everything anymore, no polio, better food -- but they moved the Dodgers to L.A.," he says, making a face. "Actually, I uh. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. They're the ones who -- 'woke me up'."

All colorful jokes about him being Sleeping Beauty or a giant Popsicle notwithstanding. It's still a strange thing to talk about as if it's just an everyday piece of information. "My partner's on the ship, actually. I know she'd like to meet you." Again.

And there's the someone responsible for Steve's change, though maybe not exactly in the way Peggy might have suspected.

There was always more to Steve Rogers than met the eye, it was a given. But he had always been that way, and so often been overlooked for it. She still admired the strength and will he had displayed in his efforts to become a soldier, it was what made him so fitting for the program and quite frankly for her.

Though he is lucky that he has the shield, even if she was not making a habit of carrying a loaded weapon with her. Upon her arrival it had bean made very clear to her that it was not safe for such projectile weapons to be used on a starship. If they were surrounded by space it would make sense that they would have even more care take than air planes or submarines. He was safe on that front at least, and she highly doubted there would be a reason for any repeat performance, she had grown in year he'd been gone.

That movement and the following breath could not be good. She knew him well enough to see it was not a subject he was thrilled to be discussing. But she knew he would do what was right, he unfailingly seemed to.

"Steps in water purification is wonderful, and I would wager there have been a few medical advances. To know polio will no longer cripple children is wonderful." She demurred comment on the Dodgers as she was no great fan of American sports, she knew little enough to get by in police passing conversation and even more so when to play dumb.

Her eyes went wide that SHIELD had been responsible for his recovery. She only recently been drafting orders that the search not be shelved but ongoing, if only to bring the rest of him home where he belonged. Apparently that had worked in the end; an idea that left her joyful/

Which turned to an awkward somewhat faltering smile. "Partner?" She would want to meet Peggy. Of course, she'd been silly to think he wouldn't seek or be sought out for companionship. Perhaps he had found a great deal more freedom in the future than she had thought originally. "I'm sure I would be happy to meet her as well." She made her smile bright and slightly neutral, quickly adapting to the surprise.

Talking about himself has never been something he was completely comfortable with, even taking the future out of the equation. He never felt there was much to say. Now, he deflects with wry humor and general remarks so he doesn't have to think about how he still doesn't have a solid place in the world, a home, family, or friends, even after two years. The fact that he thinks about it at all is just another thing to thank Natasha for, otherwise he would bury himself in work and never come up for air.

"Yeah, I mean -- to be honest, I think she's supposed to be more of a babysitter," he says, a little of that old familiar righteous indignation shading his wry smile. "But we've learned ways of trusting each other. Sort of. She's a spy, and you remember how bad I am with stuff like that."

Steve knows his strengths. Subtlety and misdirection are not among them. And while he would say that attention to detail is, he hasn't picked up on the hitch in her smile. It's maybe a credit to Peggy's acting ability, or the fact that Steve doesn't look at Natasha in that way. He knows the beautiful woman is there, but he always sees the fighter, survivor, and spy first.

One thing he does pick up on at least is the way her eyes widen when he mentions S.H.I.E.L.D. It hits him that maybe he's saying too much, even though she doesn't look upset. "I can talk about something other than S.H.I.E.L.D. You probably don't want to hear too much about that anyway."

And he wants to know everything about her life, too. Even if he has the advantage of knowing her future, it doesn't make up for the small moments he missed. Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly penitent, he shakes his head, brows pinched together.

"I'm sorry," he says, letting it hang between them for a second while he gathers his thoughts. "I know I said that already, but I need you to know how much I wanted to be there."

8 o'clock, on the dot.

don't you dare be late.

"A babysitter?" She was half offended on his behalf. "I doubt there is a man less in need of looking after than you." Though hearing that this partner might not be the term she would think of as far as close working relationships. After all she had Steve had been partners at one time and had grown very close.

"I'm just glad to know it continues on and that it has been a force for good in the world. Howard and I had such plans and hopes for it but... well you never really know when things are just starting out." Her hands lose a bit of the tightness in them and she can relax more. She had been inserted into places where keeping a cool head was necessary for survival so it would make something like this easier to conceal.

And then he looks so sorrowful, so apologetic that he had been taken from her time, her life. She could never be angry with him about it, and she never would blame him for his choices, he did what he felt was the right thing to save his country and by extension the world. "I would have wanted you there, I'd allowed myself plans and dreams of a potential future. I saw you in it," she licked her lips and smiled just at the corners of her lips. "I saw you as a large part of my life. But you saved so many that it didn't make sense for me to be upset that my personal dreams were curtailed. So I lived and tried to make that life mean something. I wanted it to be something you would be proud of if you could see me."

All of that, everything he has done since, they each had lives on the other side of all this. "Others have told me of people who come here and then leave, if I go back, will I remember what happened here?"

Steve's never outgrown that street-smart suspicion that served him through his first 20 years in New York, not even when people started noticing him, looking up to him, and celebrating him as an American symbol. It shows in his expressions, eyebrows typically gathered in thought, the corners of his lips turned down, eyes sharp and focused. Laughter is rare, even when he's quick with a joke or a reassuring word. But there are certain people who draw soft looks out of him: Bucky, of course; Erskine even started to break through that wall; and then there's Peggy.

For as remorseful as he is, and as sad as her responses make him, he feels strangely at home sitting beside her, comforted and gently amused. Even after everything she's said in the past hour, the idea that she imagined a life with him still knocks the air out of him as surely as a sucker punch. Sometimes he forgets how similar they are, how easily their thoughts align; that a big part of the reason he fell so hard and so fast is because she never told him to sit out the fight, to run away, thanking his lucky stars fate dealt him the hand that it did. She always supported his decisions or else gave him a damn good reason why he was being an idiot. She always had faith in him. And knowing that she could never be angry with him for the choice he made makes him love her all the more, because if he had it to do all over again he would do the exact same thing. He knows they both would.

It's who they are.

He glances down, flexing his jaw and giving his head a soft, abortive shake. When he looks up, he's found enough daring to reach for one of her perfect curls, rough fingers ever-so-gently stroking.

"Everything I've done since waking up, I've done because I wanted it to be something you'd be proud of." He could tell her that most days the only reason he's stuck with SHIELD is because of her. That even when he and Fury are at their most combative, he suffers the distrust and babysitting because Peggy believed in SHIELD, and Steve believes in Peggy. He could tell her that so far the only way he's managed to carve out meaning for himself is to go on living for her, Howard, the Commandos, Erskine -- to be the good man and the force for change he always wanted to be. But he says it all with a look instead.

He loves her, and it bleeds from him when she asks that last question with such depth in her eyes. Getting over her has been the hardest thing he's never done. He wants to say yes; he remembered enough to spend a few days in quarantine when Q sent him back, after all. But she was here before, and she doesn't remember anything. "I don't know," he answers honestly. "I don't think there's any guarantees."

As much as it might break their hearts.

So they had both spent a lifetime trying to offer something that would be worthy of the other. It seemed odd that they they had known each other such a short time and had formed such a deep attachment. Or perhaps it was the very nature of how they had come to know each other that had contributed to their depth of feelings. They worked surrounded by death, deception and war it was perhaps a personal rebellion that they could see the future beyond it as something sunny.

But there was something to the fact that he had held on to those feelings so far into the future with so many other distractions and possibilities, was flattering. And it offered her hope of things that might come of this future, in this strange new world.

Her wistful thoughts were cut shirt with his movement, she was sure he was simply wiping a piece of dust or perhaps an errant bit if fluff form her. But instead he touched her hair, there was no way to feel such contact be even so she had to remind herself to breathe. How was it men had laid on far more charm or been far more involved with her in the course of a mission and yet his slightest action elicited such a reaction from her. Howard would chalk it up to the laws of attraction or some such, with a salacious grin she was sure.

His answer is not what she might have wanted to hear, but it also held another promise. "Life has no guarantees anytime. But this at least provides us with a chance. And if I am to return to a life outside of this with no memory more than I had before then there is no way for anything here to interfere with any life I might have upon that return. What we have here, as I see it, is a situation in which the risk is as level as any we may ever have." And not trying would be more painful than any loss she could face from trying.

It's his unquenchable hope that drew him to fight in the war in the first place. He always saw the thing worth fighting for, not the thing worth fighting. Peggy's thoughts aren't far from the mark -- you could blame his optimism or his inherent goodness, but everything he's done, from falling in love in the middle of war to just surviving, has been an act of rebellion.

He's young, and he's a little old-fashioned, but his feelings aren't a passing whim. They didn't need time on their side for him to figure out how he felt about her.

And even though he'd thought out every outcome, he'd somehow missed Peggy's conclusion. He opens his mouth and then stops, the weight of that realization sinking in. On the one hand, it lifts so much guilt and responsibility off his shoulders thinking that he won't disrupt her future; on the other, there's a quick jab of jealousy in his gut at the thought that she could go home and forget him and meet her ... other him. The opposing feelings war inside of him for a few moments until he gathers his wits, clearing his throat.

Life has no guarantees anytime. He puts on a smile for her, and looks up through his lashes. "Sounds practical."

He thinks about reaching for her hand again, but isn't sure if that would be too much too fast, so he leaves it resting by his side. If this is another act of rebellion -- against fate, against time -- he'll make it a good one.

"Do you want to go dancing sometime?"

Life was worth fighting for, and the things that give life meaning. She had devoted herself to her work so much that she had begun to lose sight of those things. The simple joys of spending time with people who matter in your life, or sharing a dance. These things were what filled the long hours of life that could otherwise lose focus.

She was willing to give him whatever time he needed, as far as she was concerned he would always be the love of her life. She had given up on that dream before, but never on the attachment of her feelings.

"Love should be anything but practical. Like falling for a man who looked like he could be knocked over by a stiff breeze." She countered. "But somethings just happen." Not that she regretted it at all, Steve had always been exceptional even if it hadn't always been for his physicality. At least she had seen what more there was to him, she felt lucky to have been in the place to do so.

His invitation was, well it was shocking. It took her a few moments to process and a few more to do more than smile delightedly back at him. "I'd like that, very much."

She makes him laugh -- a real laugh, not the self-deprecating snickers or quiet chuckles he usually lets off, but a flash of white teeth and his head bowing in embarrassment instead, hand briefly covering his eyes.

"You won't have to worry about stiff breezes anymore," he says, coming back up for air. His eyes are dancing with merriment, although the way he feels is caught somewhere between pride that he's bigger and stronger, and wistfulness for that kid he used to be. He was never ashamed of who he was, he just wanted to do more. "If I have it my way, you won't have to worry about anything else for as long as you have to live."

As sappy as it is, he's as genuine as they come. Whatever happens between them, all he really wants is to make her happy. And the way she reacts? Boy, it makes him the happiest Joe on this ship. That smile on his face isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"O-OK," he stammers, breathing a laugh. "I still don't know my right foot from my left, but if we're picking up where we left off, I've got time to learn."

That laugh is gold to her, she has seen the darkness in his eyes and the deepened furrow that creased between his brows. He hadn't always looked so intense even if he felt it. He was bright and full of possibility. It was awful to see the loss of his idealistic view of the world, but that was something that had started with the grim realities of war. The brief, sparkling moment of his laughter was a return to who he was before he had seen quite so much.

She didn't think either of them had much to worry about anymore. At least here, there seemed to be little that they were facing that was worse than they had already seen. This star-ship was something new for them both, more-so for her but it was beyond anything either of them had imagined. It seemed fitting for a new start in a new place and a new era.

And his declaration of..of what? It wasn't love per-say but it was surely more than friendship. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers laced with his and the other closed over the top.

"I'll teach you." She'd said it before but this time there was more assurance in her tone. This wasn't saying goodbye, this was greeting a new life; together. "There is so much I would love to show you."

It won't surprise her then to know the darkness is still there, and in a lot of ways deeper than it ever had been during the war. Things seemed so much simpler then than they do now. Some days he still feels like a performing monkey -- for Fury, for SHIELD, for the government, and now for Q -- after learning about Phase II, it's hard to trust things are always what they seem. But with Peggy's hands curled around his and her smile reaching all the way to her eyes, it's hard to be anything other than bright. It's like he's sitting in the sun.

He watches her hands, the way her fingers fit between his, the way their callouses match, how she embraces them with her free hand like something ... precious. Even with the first time she said those words echoing in his memory, he feels hopeful for the first time in years, in a way it's hard to pinpoint. It's like a feeling that he's ...

Home.

He runs his fingertips along the delicate bones of her hand, cradling their linked hands for a moment. Just a heartbeat, and then he's reaching for her jawline again, looking at her the way a dying man looks at heaven. Thumb grazing her cheek, he kisses her. It doesn't presume, it's gentlemanly to the point of being chaste, but it's filled with so much tenderness.

"Me too," he murmurs once he's pulled away, fighting the childlike urge to grin like an idiot. His cheeks are a little red. "There's nothing else pulling me away, so why don't we start now?"

For the first time, there are no interruptions. No gunfire, no grenades, no meetings, no missions. They can start right now. "I mean, not the dancing. Or we could -- I wouldn't complain. I mean ... Friday night. 8 o'clock. I'll -- I'll take you to dinner. Like a -- like a proper ... date."

And there's that hopelessly shy side of him again.

"But I mean, right now ... have you seen all of the ship? I could show you. I could even show you what it looks like in 2014 back home."

He looked at her and she had never been gazed at that way before.It was all intensity and admiration and something gentle and protective all at once. As though he, like she, had found the place he truly belonged.

And then he kissed her, it wasn't fumbling or heated. There was nothing about it that forced or took, or demanded. It was like truth poured from him to her, open and honest with his heart. She made a soft sound and returned the kiss gently, her hand briefly moving to rest over his heart.

It was over in a moment, but it left an impression. Steve might not have vast amounts of experience with women but he was hitting all the right buttons with her. His spirit, his integrity had drawn her to him and he had manged to fold that into a kiss, well done Captain, well done.

He was speaking and she was listening with half an ear as her mind was lazily drinking him in, she almost missed what it was he was saying and scrambled to catch up to the conversation. A real date, something neither of them had had time for and both had dreamed of in their own way. His very suggestion was enough to have that smile pushing her cheeks higher and a bit of a red flush rise to her cheeks.

"We have time, I would like to be able to do things right this time. We don't need to rush or hide and we are both rational adults." They could set whatever pace they wanted and beholden to no one but themselves. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"No, I haven't seen beyond sick bay and my quarters really, today was the day I'd planned to find something to occupy myself." A plan which had worked far better than she could have dreamed.

It's completely possible she's going to be the end of him with those soft sounds, and the way her touch is so light and so passionate all at the same time. He doesn't suppose she knows what it does to him, but that's not a bad thing. He's all eagerness and pent up feelings waiting to explode, and it takes discipline to go one step at a time.

He doesn't realize he's still grinning even after they've parted, his eyes caught up in her and his mind all tied in knots. He can barely think of anything at all besides the warmth of her hand on his chest. But her sensibleness finally brings him back to a little reason, and he clears his throat and tries to look serious.

"We are," he nods, with a good deal of respect in his voice. "If we were anything else, I'd expect Sister Margaret would have already been by to break us up. You know you're safe with me."

He covers her hand with his, and gives her fingers a squeeze. He means it in more ways than one -- whatever the days bring, he'll always put her first. "Can I escort you around the ship? There's an observation deck that will take your breath away, and if you don't know what the holodecks are yet -- well, you kind of have to see them to believe them."

The grin made of sunlight, how can a man who has seen so much still be so happy? It astounds her as much as it fills her with hope. If he can be such, so can she. So can everyone.

"Sister Margaret?" She blinked for a moment wondering if there was something or someone she needed to be aware of. But then it dawned on her it was likely a joke from his upbringing. Sher seemed to recall him talking about such strict school mistresses or other.

"I know I'm safe with you, in every possible way save one, Steve." She spoke softly and with a gravity to her words. "Because I'm afraid you've already stolen my heart, you thief." The last given with a light mirthful laugh and a mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes.

"I'd love to tour the ship with you, since I suppose this is our new home. I mean for all of us here, not just you and I." Oh the thoughts she'd had though. Picket fences and toe headed children running in the yard and playing on a tire swing. She'd conjured images from idyllic pictures in imagines; what life could have been like if things had gone differently.

"Show me, Steve, I want to see everything with you."

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[Personal Log:] A Dream is but a Dream... for peggy_carter

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