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(no subject)
Who: Peggy Carter and OPEN
What: Arrival
When: early Tuesday morning
Where: Cornucopia and exploring Main Street
Warnings: none yet
Peggy had thought her life had prepared her for any number of odd situations, yet none of them could have prepared her for this. The only redemption to the costume they had forced her into was the boots and cape. The rest would have to go. Immediately if possible. She couldn't be expected to run in all this, stay well hidden or even defend herself. God only knew what the men were wearing. That she had been briefed at all seemed like something of a miracle, but they didn't tell her anything more useful than what she was going to be doing.
She stepped off the platform and into the arena with the sobriety of someone walking to the gallows, but even then she couldn't help gawking. She had seen wreckage. Seen smoldering remains and hollowed homes, bodies falling into mud and on fire and exploding into millions of pieces, yet she still couldn't pretend the sight before her was anything less than extraordinary.
And it was early.
People who managed to sleep would soon be waking and God knew what other kinds of dangers there might be lurking in the hidden shadows, but she was only as good as her knowledge of her surroundings, and there was nothing left for her if she just stood there. Staying alive would be nice, but if she had to chose between death through violence and starving she would pick a fatal wound every time.
So she needed to find food. Food and then shelter and if lucky a place to ditch this bloody awful dress.
What: Arrival
When: early Tuesday morning
Where: Cornucopia and exploring Main Street
Warnings: none yet
Peggy had thought her life had prepared her for any number of odd situations, yet none of them could have prepared her for this. The only redemption to the costume they had forced her into was the boots and cape. The rest would have to go. Immediately if possible. She couldn't be expected to run in all this, stay well hidden or even defend herself. God only knew what the men were wearing. That she had been briefed at all seemed like something of a miracle, but they didn't tell her anything more useful than what she was going to be doing.
She stepped off the platform and into the arena with the sobriety of someone walking to the gallows, but even then she couldn't help gawking. She had seen wreckage. Seen smoldering remains and hollowed homes, bodies falling into mud and on fire and exploding into millions of pieces, yet she still couldn't pretend the sight before her was anything less than extraordinary.
And it was early.
People who managed to sleep would soon be waking and God knew what other kinds of dangers there might be lurking in the hidden shadows, but she was only as good as her knowledge of her surroundings, and there was nothing left for her if she just stood there. Staying alive would be nice, but if she had to chose between death through violence and starving she would pick a fatal wound every time.
So she needed to find food. Food and then shelter and if lucky a place to ditch this bloody awful dress.
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"Peggy," he says, finally. It kind of hits him like a wave, natural and enveloping but threatening to drag him under. With one arm still around her, he turns, cautiously looking around before taking a step. "We have to talk somewhere else."
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She isn't going to lie to herself. She is utterly compromised in this moment. She is not all right and no one should expect her to be.
"I don't know this place at all. I wouldn't know where to go."
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It dawns on him, that he'll have to leave her behind again.
"Trust me," he says, attempting to usher her over to somewhere else. Somewhere slightly more secluded.
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Peggy grabs his wrist and stays low, looking back at the cornucopia with something akin to disgust. She didn't get to see what happened when others had arrived.
She was late to this game. That didn't mean she wished to die immediately.
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As soon as they're in the relative safety of an enclosed space with a chokepoint and a piece of furniture he can possibly use to defend them in case they need it, he pulls out a can of food and offers it to her.
"Are you hungry?"
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She wasn't naive. People would always be awful to one another given any thin reason, that didn't mean she wished to understand a future where this was a normal course of behavior. To cheer for others pointless slaughter.
Peggy watched Steve move to set a barricade, for whatever that was worth. What did they know of the other's here with them? Of the creatures that could be roaming? Of the hazards in the area?
"There's nothing that can be done here, is there?"
She had been thinking it since she had arrived in the Capitol. Long before they outfitted her to enter the arena when she had been lain on a metal table and primped within an inch of her life. She never saw so much of her own skin taken off without an actual wound to show for it.
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"This is my second game. I haven't learned much about this place, but we're stuck here until they let us leave. And..." He looks rather guilty. "I know these circumstances could be better, but I'm happy to see you." Gently, he rests a hand on her arm, and god what he wouldn't do to kiss her, slow like they're not in a warzone and he isn't going to leave this little house to go die.
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Peggy drew in a stuttered breath and let it out again. His hand was warm and familiar and she had to look up at him.
"I'm glad to see you too. So very glad."
God knew how much. Steve was the one good thinhg here. Her one good thing. Just his presence settled her and made her not just need to but want to think. He made her want to play this game and get out of it with her soul intact.
because this icon breaks my heart
"The first thing I thought... was that I missed out on seventy years with you." He's standing close to her now; it's a natural progression. He doesn't even realize he's inching forward.
WELL GEE THANKS :|
Peggy reached for him, not hesitating, not in that moment, and brushed her fingers along his cheek and down over his jaw. He was every bit as she remembered him. Every inch the few photographs she had coveted and stolen from headquarters and kept pressed between the pages of her books.
"We never were going to stop looking."
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A large part of him wants to march up to the ninety-year-old Peggy Carter and ask for her hand in marriage so they can enjoy what time they have left together. But a larger part of him would rather she spent those years he now knows he was gone, happy, cared-for, and loved, even if it was by someone else.
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She appreciates the sentiment but it's utterly unnecessary. Romance was never high on her priority list to begin with. There were much more important things and now knowing that Steve did not die in that crash, she's only going to work harder to make the world a place fitting for his return.
She's never been like other women. She always knew she would be alone in that sense, but she has a family. Friends. Colleagues. People to care about and to care about her in turn and it was only Steve who ever turned her head in such a way as to make her think she might want a little more.
She might be an old woman by the time he returns, but she wants to be there to make certain he doesn't feel so alone.
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For the longest time, he thought there's no way he stood a chance with her, and even if he did he'd mess something up and she'd come to her senses. That's what's caught in his throat right now, that thing he doesn't want to drive her away with.
"Um," he says smoothly, to change the subject. "I've gotta meet up with some of my friends. Will you come with me? They won't hurt you; I trust them."
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"Of course." The other option would be remaining here and there was no chance of that. It was safer to keep moving. Harder to find that way.
She also didn't want to lose sight of Steve. The last time she did ended poorly for them both.
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Back to serious, he says: "I'm... sorry I missed our date."
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She managed it without even a hitch in her tone though her chest ached a little more than it already did when looking at him. There had been a few days where his name alone made it hard to breathe.
She can't claim the same calm when she speaks again. "I forgave you weeks ago."
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He doesn't realize he's begun whispering, doesn't know he's come close enough to do it. He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, takes to it like a man who's regained feeling from a long time without it.
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She even missed his inability to hold a proper conversation with her without getting in over his head, and the blush that would always, always go along with it.
"Steve..."
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"I love you," he says, and then is completely conscious of all the silence surrounding them, and he needs to quickly fill up that void. "I've loved you for years."
That's what he wanted to say.
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And it was utterly unfair that it would happen in this place.
"I love you too."
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And alright, somewhere in there he also thought he was coming home to Bucky, to his mother, to finally get to meet his father. But all that happened in a delirious jumble and he can't exactly remember who precisely got to occupy the last of his thoughts, only that it would be fair to name any of those people.
He leans in to kiss her, slow and calm and nothing like they've got a whole life ahead of them.
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This was a dream, a terrible, wonderful dream and she was afraid thinking might just startle her out of it.
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For a moment she felt more cherished than she had ever imagined possible. For a moment she let herself imagine the war had ended and they had all survived to see that great day come. That this, here, was their reward for service and no one could come interrupt them any longer. That they were anywhere but in the middle of a different sort of battle where the costs were just as high, but the end was nowhere in sight.
It was a foolish wish. That didn't stop her from desperately wanting it.
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That life he sees, that one he could have had, is just so clear to him now that he's here, now that she's back. It doesn't matter that they're in this warzone; he has that opportunity again.
He knows he should be figuring out a way for them to survive, but instead he buries his face in her hair and hooks an arm around her waist, just basking a bit.
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