entrancelogs | i was left to my own devices

Entry tags:

i was left to my own devices

Who: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff
Where: The clinic.
When: 4/22
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Steve's decided to discharge himself from the clinic, which is when a certain someone finds him.
The Story:
As far Steve's concerned, he's done his time here in the clinic. He'd even forced himself not to get up out of bed the moment he woke from a sleep that felt too long (and these days, anything more than five hours tends to count as "too long" for him), taking some time to recover and speak with the doctor on duty. A nice British woman named Martha. The second British woman he's met here, in fact. Steve's starting to wonder if he's out of place here.

Supposedly, all of them are, if he's going to believe what everyone's told him. This is all bizarre enough that he doesn't have many other options. Steve's done the whole waking up in a foreign place where he knows no one thing before, and he's not too thrilled to be going through it again.

He needs to find out what happened to the others. Sam, Natasha, Fury...

And Bucky.

Not that he's going to find anything out here, and while he's been told again and again that escape isn't impossible, he's never been one to lay down and accept something for what it is.

Martha had given him a helpful pamphlet that answered a good chunk of his questions, and he'd also spent some time in bed learning in the ins and outs of his new Wonderland-prescribed phone. The hardest thing to wrap his head around so far is that people are from a variety of different worlds. The Chitauri had been one thing, but this is edging toward too much to swallow.

What Steve needs to do now is get a better lay of the land, and since he's decided he's well enough to walk, he takes a moment when all of the doctors are otherwise occupied to get up out of bed. He's sore all over and his face won't stop stinging, but he can stand on his own and that's what counts.

[ Warning: Spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier under the cut! ]

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He had missed a lot, hadn't he? At the reminder, her lips curved downward in a frown for a moment, returning to serious business without the witty commentary.

"He's dead. Fury shot him," she answered simply, showing no sign of distress over that, not going into details about the tense encounter either. She stuck to the important bits. "So's the World Security Council. Still debating if that's good or bad, personally, but at least Pierce is out of the picture. We accomplished what we went in for. All of Hydra's secrets we had access to are out there now. SHIELD's too. We made a really big mess for a lot of people but at least we're not covering for Hydra anymore. I suppose that should count for something, right?" Her lips quirk, a faint attempt at dry humor as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

Steve can't say he feels much distress over Pierce's death either. It's not like they had the infrastructure to lock him up at the moment, and in the end Fury's quarrel with him is far more personal than Steve's. He's going to assume that he had his reasons and leave it at that.

"It counts for a whole lot, Natasha," Steve says, his own expression and demeanor growing more serious. He can't be certain she was entirely on-board with the idea of tearing SHIELD down, but she also hadn't protested it, and that had been good enough for him. "Now maybe we can actually get some work done." Once they get out of Wonderland, that is. "Thanks for handling it."

They'd all played their part, and somehow they had pulled it off. With no small amount of help, either. Apparently his words over the SHIELD HQ intercom had done some good.

Having satisfied his curiosity at least for the moment, Steve grabs for the change of clothes and glances over at Natasha. "Could you, uhh..." He makes a circular movement with his free hand, indicating that she should turn around.

"If you have an idea of how to get work done from here, I'd love to hear it," she returns, chuckling as she shakes her head, still casually lounging against the wall. "Also considering we just sent our employers the most definitive resignation in history and they were the ones to find most of the work that needs doing? I'm not so sure that's going to be as easy as you make it sound. You get points for unfailing optimism, however."

Her humor fades though and she averts her gaze, arms still crossed in front of her, the pose looking more defensive than comfortable for the briefest of moments. "I didn't do it for you. I did it because it needed to be done. And we made the world vulnerable in a way its never been before. Not for a long time. I'm not sure you should be thanking me just yet." He didn't know the half of what she'd put out there, after all.

When he motions to her, her lips quirk and she arches an eyebrow, looking for a moment as if she's going to make this difficult for him, but she bites back the retort on the tip of her tongue and obligingly turns her back to him. "Before you do that, you might want to cover the mirror with something. Apparently those are used to spy on us. Magic voodoo and all that."

And every room she'd been in so far seemed to come already equipped with one. It was starting to give her the creeps.

Natasha makes a good point about the mirrors, and so before addressing anything else she's said, Steve yanks the covers off of the unused bed and drapes them over the mirror. It occurs to them that their voices might still be traveling through to the other side, which for the most part is a mystery to him, but he knows enough to be cautious about it.

With that done, he starts to change, but it's slow-going because of his stitches. He's got to be careful with his movements or he'll end up tearing something and having to drag himself back to the clinic, and then he'll get chewed out by some very nice doctors—and really, who wants that?

"Sometimes you've got to go with the harder choice, if it's what's right. I'd rather there be chaos for a while than have order that's maintained by HYDRA." It's nothing that Natasha doesn't already know, but Steve wants to make it clear that he understands the consequences of his actions. To him, it had also been personal, about finishing a job he thought he'd taken care of when he'd crashed the Valkyrie.

He couldn't have been more wrong, but at least he's put things to rest now, even if it is seventy years late. "Sounds like I'd already decided what I was doing with myself next." It's not like he would be able to focus on anything else until he tracked down Bucky. "So how about you, what's your plan?" Even he's having a hard time imagining what Natasha would do with herself now that SHIELD's gone.

Her smirk is directed at the wall, since she's still turned away from him, but it's audible enough in her voice if he's listening. "What makes you think I have one?"

It's a delaying tactic at best, but if his last memory is the helicarriers crashing then he hasn't seen the aftermath. Hasn't seen the media circus, the agencies clamoring for answers, for justice. Hasn't seen the treasure trove of secrets unleashed across the internet, now being mined for every minute detail.

Of course she has a plan. She enjoys living too much not to have half a dozen in place at any given time. And there were a worrisome amount of people looking for her right now.

"I blew my covers," she answers finally, staring across the room, listening to him change. "My aliases. Everything. The secrets are all out." Or at least the ones SHIELD had on record. "I was headed off to make some new ones."

Natasha always has a plan. She probably has multiple plans, in fact, for every given situation. It's an impressive trait, something to be admired because any soldier should be prepared, but the various different agendas get tough to keep up with.

Maybe it's easier for them to not be looking at each other during this portion of the conversation, since her admittance is not something Steve could have predicted. The Black Widow, laying herself bare for everyone to see? He thinks about when they first met, and back then he never could have pictured her making such a bold move.

But after what they've just been through? He believes her.

"There's gonna be a lot of backlash from that," he says quietly as he gets the shirt over his shoulders and then carefully pulls it down. "You did it for yourself, right, Natasha? Not for anyone else." Everything's been changing, shifting, and Natasha's a part of that. Steve just has to make sure she doesn't feel like she was somehow strong-armed into this.

"There already has been," she drawls, her voice dry. "A lot of suits throwing around blame, talk of imprisonment. They're always looking for a scapegoat. Someone to take the fall. Don't worry, I can handle the backlash. And if not, I fully expect assembling and a jail break, Rogers. Prison food is abhorrent, I hear."

It's easy to keep her reply light, to brush off any real concern, and it's not like this is the first time she's had to dodge accusations like that, she has her own emergency contingencies in place, should things ever get that dire.

She flicks a glance over her shoulder, figuring he's had plenty of time to dress and yes, he's dropping his shirt into place, so she timed it right anyway. She meets his gaze, her own serious. "I did it because it needed to be done. Don't worry, Cap, I'm not over here wallowing in regrets. It's not the first time I've had to start from scratch."

As casual as she may be about it, Natasha is still talking about people wanting her behind bars, and that's not something that sits well with Steve. Not when she's the one person who had been at his side when the entirety of SHIELD—no, HYDRA—had wanted him dead. Natasha's proven herself ten times over as far as he's concerned.

"You're right," he says, catching her gaze. He's still got that somber look on his face—maybe Peggy had been right about him being too dramatic. "You're not ending up in prison, not on my watch." And all of them will be there to bust her out if it comes to that.

He has no idea what the media's been doing to him back home, but in a way, it's nice to have a break from that. Having such a reputation can be a real double-edged sword. At least their time here in Wonderland will allow them to regroup.

"Guess this is one more detour before we have to worry about our next step," he says grimly. He wants to be out there looking for Bucky, and Natasha probably has her own set of priorities, yet here they are. One step at a time, then. He's dressed now, so that's moving in the right direction. "How much of this place have you searched so far?"

She goes still for a moment when he meets her gaze, pausing in a way that's at odds with her typical smooth behavior and light disregard for anything dipping too deeply into serious topics. She can't quite brush that off so easily as everything else, not when that means something. Because when he says it, she can believe it. As much as she believes anything from anyone, at least. And that surprises her almost as much as his words do.

"Careful, Rogers." She tries for light, she really does, but it's not the flawless execution she typically manages. She tucks her hair behind her ear, a subtle distraction, giving her a moment to wrangle her composure. "That could be a taller order than you're prepared for. But I appreciate the backup. Really."

And she did. It was new and strange, the understanding that he would actually have her back if she needed it. It made her a little uncomfortable, to be honest, not sure what she was supposed to do with this. She'd always had Clint, of course - the number of times they'd bailed each other out of trouble is something she'd lost track of long ago but she could also admit that he was just as likely to be neck-deep in trouble with her. And Fury she'd trusted but only to a point and she'd always been aware of that point, knowing that he would do all he could until it served the grater good to turn a blind eye. He was ruthless and he got the job done and that was why she respected him and followed his orders, but she knew it was foolish to ever trust him wholeheartedly.

Steve Rogers, though. He was something else. And just when she thought she'd started to figure him out, he'd go and say something like that and surprise her all over again.

Pushing that aside for the moment, she turned her focus instead to his question and the topic at hand, preferring to focus on that rather than the strange knot in her stomach. "It's a hell of a detour. I've made it through most of the first floor so far. I got here late yesterday, saw the kitchens, got the typical welcome speech, found a room upstairs. I've been mapping out what I could as I go."

"Tall order or not, I'll be there," Steve replies easily, and the fact that he can say the words and actually mean them is probably what shocks Natasha so much, but he thinks she should be used to this by now. They're teammates, they've been through a hell of a lot together, of course he's going to be there to bail her out.

And he knows she'd do the exact same thing for him. They've been over this by now, so he won't let her dwell on it too much. Not when they've got a host of other problems to deal with at the moment.

He nods, not surprised to hear that she's already gathered information and done some searching. "Sounds like we should cover the rest of the floors, then, and maybe the surrounding area while we're at it."

Should he be moving around that much while still stitched up in a few different places? Probably not. But it's never stopped Steve before, and so he exits the room again, glancing up and down the hall. "I need to sneak back into the clinic for a second and grab my shield, if that's okay. Then we can keep moving."

She lets him change the topic, nodding as she turns fully now and moves to fall into step with him as he heads for the door. Hearing his plan has her giving him a skeptical look behind his back.

"That's a lot of ground to cover. And from what I've picked up, the floors above us that hold the living quarters for the residents here? They stretch on for quite a long while. Possibly infinitely and no don't ask me how, I don't know any more about magic than you do. I gathered what mentions I could of places other than bedrooms that exist upstairs - not a lot, but there's a diner, an art gallery, a bar... Everything else seems to be on the first floor, or close to it. Or outside, which I haven't gotten to yet. Besides, are you sure a hiking adventure is wise right now?"

Because you're still not moving very well, Cap, don't think she hasn't noticed that.

"Your shield arrived with you then?" That was helpful. "You're ahead of me, then. Showed up in my normal clothes, no tac suit, no weapons. I'm going to have to start bartering with my closet, see what I can come up with."

Is it wise for him to go running around when he's stitched up in multiple places? No, probably not. But Steve doesn't see how he has any other choice.

He handles the easier question first. "Yeah, it washed up with me. My uniform was completely trashed, though." He hasn't had much of a need for one yet, but that's bound to change. He doesn't know if the closets will actually give him a replacement, but it's worth a shot.

He moves back toward the clinic, motioning for Natasha to hang back so that he can slip inside and locate his shield. It doesn't take him too long and when he returns to the hallway, it's strapped against his arm just like always.

"I know I'm not moving too quick right now, but I can't just sit around at a time like this. We need to get a lay of the land." If that means he's got to push himself a little harder, then so be it. His body can take it. Natasha forgets that for the first twenty or so years of his life, Steve had run around while dealing with asthma and heart problems. This is nothing compared to that.

"The land isn't going anywhere, and for the moment, neither are we," Natasha interrupts, because shield or not, having Steve at his best should probably be a priority. And of course he's going to be stubborn about it, so she starts pulling in backup plans.

"I think we need to assess what we do know so far and go from there. Make sure we're on the same page. There's a lot of information to parse here and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. And hungry. Did you eat yet today? Have you seen the magical kitchen buffet yet?"

She doesn't wait for him to argue, instead taking the lead this time as she heads back towards the room she'd first arrived in the night before. She didn't look back to see if he was following - she just assumed he would.

Steve sees exactly what Natasha is doing. She's giving him an out, a series of good reasons to not go running all around the mansion until he's feeling more up to it. He doesn't like to be pitied, but at least she backs it up with some good points.

Like the fact that he is hungry, and should probably do something about that before he burns off more energy. "I haven't," Steve admits. "It's just been the beach, then the clinic, and then you found me." So he's curious, enough that he follows her without any protest.

In the end, Natasha is right. Comparing notes, sorting through everything they've learned, that's all important too. There will be plenty of time to go explore, but there's a part of him that's still feeling antsy.

It's not pity. She's had her fair share of injuries and when it was necessary she pushed herself past them to get the job done. Right now it wasn't necessary for him to do the same, they were not on critical levels of alert, the world was not imminently ending so the smart thing to do would be to take advantage of the time they had to catch their breath and prepare for the time when it might be.

Still, she's relieved when he doesn't argue. Barton she'd be dragging by the ear right about now.

"You're in for a treat then," she answers, smirking over her shoulder at him. "The real question is, do you feel like cooking something by pulling ingredients out of magical cupboards or would you rather head to the dining room and just have our meals magically cooked for us too? Unfortunately there is no option C without the magical interference as far as I can tell, unless you feel like mounting a hunting or fishing expedition."

Magical food, was it? Steve's a little uncertain about that idea, but if the ingredients are coming out of the closets too, then there's really no way to avoid it. He's not in the mood for cooking and he doubts that Natasha is either. He doesn't even know if she does cook, if he's honest. Strange, how he's known her for over a year now and yet there are still these basics facts they don't know about each other.

"Let's go with option B," he says after a moment of consideration. Getting some food in him will make him feel a little more human, and taking a moment to slow down and consider their situation will at least allow him to feel less guilty about the fact that he isn't mapping out the area.

If they really are trapped here, then he'll have plenty of time to heal up and then get a look around. You win for now, Natasha.

"Dining Room it is then," Natasha answered, modifying her pace so he could fall in beside her as she led the way towards the stairs. She flashed him a crooked smile and a sideways glance as they walked, because she assumed for now that he was onto her real motives but was going along anyway. "At least then you can exercise your way up a flight of stairs."

She hasn't actually had a chance to use the Dining Room just yet, although she'd peeked through the door earlier long enough to get an idea of where and what it was. Finding it again, she wandered inside, heading towards one of the many tables that filled the opulent room.

"Well. They certainly didn't skimp in here, did they?"

Going up one flight of stairs doesn't seem so bad in theory, maybe, but Steve finds himself grabbing tight onto the railing as he follows after Natasha. He doesn't let himself lag behind, but by the time that they reach the dining room, he's winded and sore. Looks like she had a point after all, not that he's about to admit to it out loud.

He takes a look around, finding that this is far too luxurious for a place that's meant for nothing but eating. He crosses his arms, a distasteful look on his face as he takes in the sheer indulgence of it all. He's never felt he fit into settings like this.

"Seems like the whole mansion is overdone to the extreme. At least the clinic was functional," he mumbles as he moves over to take a seat at the large table set out for them. "So where do we get the food from?"

If she notices the struggle he has, she's tactful enough not to give any hint of it, although she might purposely measure her own stride so he doesn't have to push himself so hard to keep up with her. She does look amused at his obvious dislike for their surroundings though.

"Come on, Cap, live a little. I suppose if we're going to be held captive anywhere, we can enjoy the fact that at least we get to stay in style." Small comfort, but she's been held in much worse places. "And I think we just... sit at the tables and wish for what we want, like we do with the closets? Maybe it works the same way."

What bothers Steve is that this place is set up to be comfortable, to set them at ease and make them feel at home. He will never find this sort of setting enjoyable, though, so he figures that gives him some kind of advantage.

Wish for what he wants, is that it? Steve feels like he's a kid making a wish before he blows out the candles on a cake, but he decides to give it a shot. Closes his eyes and thinks of New England clam chowder...

He hopes his eyes, and there's a steaming bowl sitting in front of him.

"Huh. This place really is magic," he murmurs before lifting up the spoon so that he can start eating.

"So they keep telling me," she counters with an amused tone when a plate of dumplings appear a moment later and she prods at one curiously with her fork. "Lets hope there's fewer misfires here than the closets occasionally have."

After taking a few bites, Steve can easily say this is no misfire. Not unless the food is poisoned or something, but he imagines someone would have warned one of them about that by now. The soup is actually delicious, and he gets through about half of it before he remembers that he's got someone there with him.

He'd been hungrier than he'd realized.

Steve lets out a breath and sets the spoon down. "Can this sort of thing really just appear out of thin air? Seems like it's gotta come from somewhere." In his experience, you can't just make something out of nothing.

"I hope you don't expect me to start explaining magic to you," she counters in wry amusement, glancing over at him from across the table, dumpling balanced in the end of her fork.

"A hundred other topics, Rogers, and I will be happy to enlighten you on what I know. Magic is not a skillset I possess. Or know anything about. Up until the Asgardians dropped in on us, I was convinced it was all pulling rabbits out of hats and badly-executed card tricks. This... I don't have answers for this. Why can't it pull something out of nothing? It certainly seems to excel defying all other rules of logic. I saw someone pull out one of the most expensive bottles of vodka I'd ever seen out of one of the closets in my first hour here, and that was on top of wearing a king's ransom in jewels. Either someone out there is furious over the theft or we're encountering something else entirely."

It's not that he expects Natasha to have the answers, and Steve shakes his head. "Sorry, I was just... thinking out loud." Neither of them have much experience in this area, which is what makes it so maddening. (Pun not intended.) They're out of their depth completely, and just having to accept that something works without knowing the theory behind it makes him a little nervous.

"That's what I'm worried about, that these items are coming from somewhere, in which case we're essentially stealing. Not that we have much choice, but..." It means that he's going to think twice before pulling things out of the closets, at least. He'll only take what's necessary.

"Anyway, what concrete information have you found out so far? All I really have is a lot of hearsay." Seeing how he's been bedridden for his entire time here so far, he's got a lot of catching up to do.

"Hey, look at it this way," she points out with a hint of a smirk, waving her now-empty fork at him. "Maybe if we steal enough expensive stuff, someone will get suspicious and come looking for it."

She takes another bite before answering his question, giving herself a moment to try and wrangle the information she's gathered so far. "All of it is hearsay on my end, except for what I've shown you so far. The basics of this place seem fairly well-known. And everyone I've encountered has been very open about sharing the information they have. Which is refreshing, I admit. Then again, I suppose we're all in the same boat, it doesn't help anyone to keep this hushed."

She cast him an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly to the side. "What happened to you when you arrived?"

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