Steve Rogers / Captain America (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
assembles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-07-03 08:49 am
assembles) wrote in entrancelogs2017-07-03 08:49 am
Entry tags:
to the morning we're cast out [closed]
Who: Steve Rogers & Peggy Carter
Where: Room 515
When: 07/03
Rating: PG
Summary: Steve has some fessing up to do.
The Story:
[ Now that the shock of Peggy's arrival here has worn off and she's settled in as much as anyone can really settle into Wonderland, Steve knows that it's time. A mixture of guilt and obligation has settled over him ever since she got here, a reminder nagging at the back of his mind that he needed to clear something up with her as soon as possible.
Because they're from different times and places now. Peggy's only a couple of years out from the war, whereas for Steve it may as well be a lifetime ago. He's had four years in the future, three in Wonderland, and when he looks at her she's still how he remembers her, except that there's more grief in her now, and it's hard to reconcile that it's grief for him that's worn her down.
Steve knows what Peggy's life becomes, or at least the broad strokes of it. She'd moved on after his death, and he's had to do his own kind of moving on, but Wonderland complicates everything.
This is a conundrum he'd had to struggle with once before, when Peggy had been here a previous time, though he'd never had the chance to resolve it back then. Not before she'd vanished.
All it takes is a text message, though he hesitates for a few minutes on hitting send. Steve has no idea how Peggy might react to the news of him and Bucky, if she'll be shocked or upset or confused or a mix of all those things. He knows how it'll sound, but all he can do is stay calm and explain himself.
Once she gives him the okay to come to her room, Steve appears within minutes and knocks firmly on her door. ]
Peggy? It's me.
Where: Room 515
When: 07/03
Rating: PG
Summary: Steve has some fessing up to do.
The Story:
[ Now that the shock of Peggy's arrival here has worn off and she's settled in as much as anyone can really settle into Wonderland, Steve knows that it's time. A mixture of guilt and obligation has settled over him ever since she got here, a reminder nagging at the back of his mind that he needed to clear something up with her as soon as possible.
Because they're from different times and places now. Peggy's only a couple of years out from the war, whereas for Steve it may as well be a lifetime ago. He's had four years in the future, three in Wonderland, and when he looks at her she's still how he remembers her, except that there's more grief in her now, and it's hard to reconcile that it's grief for him that's worn her down.
Steve knows what Peggy's life becomes, or at least the broad strokes of it. She'd moved on after his death, and he's had to do his own kind of moving on, but Wonderland complicates everything.
This is a conundrum he'd had to struggle with once before, when Peggy had been here a previous time, though he'd never had the chance to resolve it back then. Not before she'd vanished.
All it takes is a text message, though he hesitates for a few minutes on hitting send. Steve has no idea how Peggy might react to the news of him and Bucky, if she'll be shocked or upset or confused or a mix of all those things. He knows how it'll sound, but all he can do is stay calm and explain himself.
Once she gives him the okay to come to her room, Steve appears within minutes and knocks firmly on her door. ]
Peggy? It's me.
no subject
While Steve may not have regrets for how things turned out between him and Bucky, he does feel guilt all the same. He knows he can't have it both ways, but it could have just as easily been the other way around, if Peggy had been the one stuck here with him for months and months, back at the start. His heart belongs to both of them in equal measures.
He lifts a hand and runs it over his mouth, a nervous action. ]
I was surprised at first. Wasn't really expecting it. Bucky was always so good at sweet talking, but... well, I knew it was the only chance I had, so we decided to make it official.
[ It's hard not to feel like he's just pulled the rug out right from under Peggy, and he wishes there was some way to soften the fall. ]
He's been home and back a few times since then, but that much has stayed the same between us. With some work.
no subject
but she forces herself to listen -- hoping that maybe the the brunt of it will shock her system like an ice bath and teach her to know better than to pin her heart on half-made promises. grief-stricken daydreams. steve speaks about surprise, about an 'us,' about work.
peggy feels her stomach turn. and it's got nothing to do with the prospect of best friends becoming more. it's got everything to do with the meager hope she'd nursed for years after his voice had crackled into little more than static over the radio. ]
Is that all? The long and short of it? [ to protect herself, her voice runs chilly. hard and impersonal, although the sudden glimmer of something wet in her eyes suggests there's nothing impersonal about it. with grace, she rises to her feet and makes for the door -- prepared to open it for him and see him out of her room.
her voice quivers. ] Honestly, Steve, I don't see what the fuss is -- your personal life never was and still won't be any of my ruddy business.
[ already, and with a lie, she tries to distance herself. already, she tries to shrug it off as though it means nothing. but in the process she betrays precisely how deep she's been hurt. enough to make her skip the part where she gets angry and makes a scene. this isn't private lorraine and four fired shots. this is something different.
different enough (aching enough) to snap up her walls and her armour as though he were anyone other than himself -- someone less privy to her inner-workings, exiled from any vantage point from which he might see a scrap of vulnerability. ]
no subject
She isn't doing a very good job of keeping up that act, not with the wetness at the corners of her eyes that makes Steve want to draw her close and wrap his arms around her once more. Not that he suspects she would take that well at all.
For all that Peggy might claim that this is none of her business, they both know better. They both know what they'd promised to each other. Maybe it had just been a dance, but it had meant so much more, a promise of something beyond that. Once all the fighting was over, once they could be themselves with each other.
But it was not to be. Not when Steve went into the ice for almost seventy years, leaving Peggy to tough things out on her own. Of course she'd moved on; it's only what he would have wanted for her.
That doesn't make the thought of what could have been that settles between them any easier to bear.
Insisting on staying here when she's upset wouldn't do any good, but simply leaving without another word doesn't feel right either. Steve stands and moves toward Peggy, dipping his head to look in her eyes. His hand twitches with the urge to touch her, but there may as well be a solid wall between, even where there's only a few inches of space there. ]
I'm sorry. [ The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them. ] I know... none of this turned out the way that we thought it would.
no subject
that's it. that's all of it. as close as they'll ever come to 'what we wanted' -- a bad radio soap opera and the dreams she'll never cop to having dreamed. while steve thinks about how she might have moved on, peggy is left adrift under understanding that she'd not yet managed it. she'd poured his blood into the east river, yes, and she'd taken a chance on a man who'd not returned her calls and...
and however much she might move on in future, she feels very stuck in this moment. stuck, and humiliated, and hurt. even so, she meets his eyes as readily as ever. she's never had a hard time staring him down. ]
You should go. [ peggy tells him tersely. she doesn't miss the flicker of his hand and before he can do something stupidly noble -- anything gentle or sweet or tide-turning at all -- she sees fit to banish him from that duty. if his personal life isn't to be her business, then she'll equally make hers none of his. this is a mess he's got no obligation to help clean up. ] Please, [ she exhales the word more than speaks it, ] go.
[ she'd much rather be alone with her sore feelings. ]
no subject
Well, it doesn't seem that likely right now, not when she's asking, practically pleading with him to leave her be. When she asks something of him, like that, there's no way that he could deny her. As much as he'd like to somehow make things right here and now, he knows that isn't possible. She at least needs some time to let this all sink in, and to grieve.
He swallows heavily and nods. ] All right, I will. [ He turns to the door, still half-open, and lets out a breath. This still feels wrong, but staying any longer, saying anything more, would be directly against Peggy's wishes, and he's already done enough damage here.
So with one last look at her, his brow pinched and his eyes full of guilt, he steps out of the room and closes the door behind him. ]