[ Steph could hear the music and the laughter from the women's barracks, and she had, in fact, already changed into her uniform to join in the revelry, but she couldn't make herself do it. So she's still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring down at her hands, which are shaking when they shouldn't be.
There had been many horrors in that HYDRA factory: their soldiers in cages, Bucky half-dead on that cold metal table, Schmidt peeling back his face, the weapons that disintegrated people in flashes of blue light, the deafening sounds of gunfire. But none had been as horrifying as the first time Steph had swung her shield right into a man's throat, killing him instantly. She can still feel his warm blood on her face and neck, no matter how much and how hard she'd scrubbed in the shower when they'd returned to camp.
She turns to reach for the sketchpad tucked under her pillow. The pencil nearly snaps in two from how much her fingers are shaking, and she has to pause and close her eyes and take in a deep breath. Then she starts to draw the outline of Peggy's familiar, comforting face. ]
[ There's always a vague sense of guilt on nights like these, when the camp is in high spirits and eager to celebrate a victory - any victory - at all. She can't blame them for wanting to live life to its fullest when it could end at any moment but it's still hard to ignore the missing faces in the crowd. There's one face, however, that it is impossible to ignore, and Peggy finds herself slipping out of the main hall and going in search of the woman of the hour.
She's alone, sitting on her perfectly made bed with a sketchpad and pencil. Peggy contemplates leaving her in peace but somehow a celebration without her feels impossible. She can still feel the remnants of her heartache when she'd been unable to raise Captain Rogers on the comm earlier that day, only to have her and the others walk into camp a few hours later. She had squeezed Steph's hand so tightly that she was sure she would break it, super soldier serum or not, because she'd been unable to give her the hug she desperately wanted to in front of the others.
She approaches slowly, careful to make her heels heard so that she doesn't actually catch her by surprise. If she wants to be alone, Peggy won't deny her that. When she's close enough to view the sketchpad she glances at it, her breath catching slightly at the detail and softness of it. There's no doubt that it's her, but it's beautiful in a way that is rarely reflected in the mirror these days. She tries to check her flattery, her voice cheerful but tired, measured but soft. ] Moved on from monkeys, have we?
[ Steph doesn't bother covering up her sketch, though at any another time, she would have. Instead she finishes shading the eyes, letting Peggy watch.
Not even looking up, she answers, her voice soft and far away: ] I needed to think about something good. Something... real.
[ Bucky had felt real enough. So did Peggy's hand in hers. But once she was alone, she'd felt trapped not just in her new body, but in a living nightmare. She'd drink the feeling away if she could, yet even that was a luxury she couldn't have now. ]
Agent Carter. [ She finally closes the pad, peering up at Peggy with a small smile. ] You should be out there enjoying yourself. I know at least one soldier who'd love to dance with you.
[ Something good. Peggy feels a warmth move through her at that. It's not something that she thinks anyone has ever said in regards to her. Certainly not her mother who had always been quick to find faults with her tomboy ways. Certainly not her superiors who had been all too eager to lend her to the Americans for Erskine's experiment, if only so she would be out of their hair. She's sure they found some other female agent willing to pour their coffee and tea without insisting on sitting in on their meetings. She reaches out a hand and puts it lightly on Steph's shoulder, watching as she puts the pad away.
Peggy smiles back, moving around the corner of the bed to sit down beside her uninvited.] And I know of a dozen who would love to dance with you. But we're not monkeys. I think you've done more than enough to lift their spirits for one day.
[ The Colonel has already put in for an award, all it needs is senate approval. But Peggy thinks that knowledge would embarrass Steph more than flatter her. That's not why she'd gone behind enemy lines.] I thought I might find you with Barnes, actually. Not by yourself.
He's probably danced with the whole chorus line by now.
[ Steph's feelings for Bucky have always been complicated at best, but there's now an added layer to it. He hadn't been mad, but he hadn't exactly been happy to see her either. Part of her worries about what HYDRA might've done to him; it's not lost on her how fast he seems to have recovered from the half-dead state in which she'd found him. Another part of her can't quite yet reconcile the boy she'd grown up with and the soldier who could shoot another man in the head with lethal precision and detached calm.
Then again, she's killed without second thought, so how is she any different?
She shifts as though uncomfortable, but she scoots closer to Peggy instead, setting the sketchpad aside and balling her hands into fists on her lap. Maybe because she is uncomfortable and yearning for genuine human contact. Sure, the boys had welcomed her, but only because they knew her from the posters. They'd said so themselves to their foreign counterparts: America's favorite pinup girl, come to save the day.
Only Peggy hasn't started looking at her and treating her differently. ]
I got what I signed up for. I... I still don't know how I feel about it. It's been... too much.
You got a lot more than that. [ Peggy would like to think that she knew what she was asking of Steph when they'd approached her about the serum, but even she couldn't foresee the changes that it would make to her appearance or the way the men would react to it. She's faced enough discrimination on her own, but at least her uniform had afforded her some modicum of respect. Steph had been dressed up like a show girl and paraded around to get money for bonds.
Even now, after she'd risked everything to save Barnes and his battalion, the things she heard in the hall had been enough to make her want to find Hodges and punch him again. She reaches for one of Steph's balled up hands, placing hers lightly over it. She's seen the horrors of war up close and personally. She's been in the middle of battle beside the Colonel and seen man after man after man gunned down, she's been in the war room and seen thousands of troops reduced to toy soldiers on a table. She knows it's not anything that ever gets easier to deal with. She swallows, squeezing her fingers over Steph's fist.] Do you want to talk about it?
[ She should've been happy, right? She'd gone from plain to unforgettable through the miracle of science, just like that. All because the SSR hadn't wanted to risk one of their soldiers, not when a sickly woman desperate to get to the front lines had been available. One of the dancers had once advised her to embrace it, to just enjoy it, but how could she?
She stares at Peggy's hands over hers. Her resistance only lasts for a moment; her fingers uncurl and, somehow, lace together with Peggy's. She wants to draw this now, too. Such a simple gesture, yet so charged with meaning. ]
I... I've been trying so hard to be in control. [ Even now, as tempted as she is to squeeze Peggy's fingers, she doesn't. She doesn't want to hurt her. ] But I've never been in battle and— [ Her breath hitches, and she shakes her head. ] I don't even remember who he'd been aiming for. But I was close enough, I had a shield, and it shouldn't have been strong enough to cause any damage, but I was, and... oh, Pegs, what have I done? And how many more do I have to— [ She hesitates, before finally saying, in a small, fearful voice: ] ... kill?
[ Peggy presses her lips together and is silent for a long moment, studying her blood red nails entwined with Steph's plain ones. She knows she has much more blood on her hands than Steph does, even if Steph has more power in her little pinky than Peggy does in her entire body. It's not a surprise that she's capable of killing with the shield. That's what the serum was supposed to help her do, regardless of the hopes Erskine had in how it would be used.
She squeezes Steph's fingers, leaning slightly into her shoulder for more contact, to ground her. She fights the urge to tilt her head so that it's touching Steph's, though there's nothing more she wants than to comfort her. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, her words measured and careful. ] This is war, Rogers. Unfortunately, lives will be lost. Many already have and many more will before it's all over. [ She knows how cold she sounds. She wishes there was a way to soften it, but there isn't.] Erskine picked you not because you were a good soldier, but because he saw something good in you. He knew that the serum wouldn't corrupt you the way it did with Schmidt. But that doesn't mean you're not capable of killing or hurting others.
[ She swallows.] Do you believe saving those men today was worth the life of one of their captors? Would you take it back if it meant leaving Barnes at their mercy?
I know. [ It comes out as frustrated instead of the quiet acceptance she'd intended, and she immediately regrets it, squeezing Peggy's fingers in apology. ] Sorry, I just—
[ She stares at their joined hands. At Peggy's red nails. The color of blood, and the color of Schmidt's now inhuman face. But also the color of Peggy's lips, and the color of passion. Steph is feeling so many things at once that she has trouble finding her words.
Eventually, she manages, though with all pretense of formality forgotten: ]
I don't wanna end up like them, Pegs. Like him. Schmidt.
[ She'd given the Colonel and Peggy her initial report earlier, including her encounter with Schmidt. It hadn't been Schmidt's appearance that had scared her, however, but his utter lack of humanity, and how, on the march back to the base, she'd started to see traces of that in their soldiers' eyes, too. ]
You won’t. [ She can say it with complete confidence. She’s seen enough of Steph firsthand to know that she would never and could never become the monster that Schmidt was. Schmidt had been a monster before the serum; it had just given him the strength to carry out his plans. Steph had been someone who had been overlooked and discounted her whole life because of her appearance, because of her gender. Even now, she worried about doing the wrong thing when half the world was killing each other. That spoke to more character than most of the men Peggy had met, who were all too willing to kill not to save others, but in the name of their country.
She takes a breath and reaches up with her free hand to tilt Steph’s chin up so that she can look her directly in the eye. ] You may doubt yourself at the moment, but I don’t. You won’t forget where you came from or why we’re fighting. You won’t ever take a life that you don’t have to. And that’s why you’ll never be like him. That’s why I trust you to wield the power you’ve been given.
[ Steph is moved. Peggy will catch it in the blonde's eyes. Not just the glistening hint of tears, but also the realization that she's been seen.
It's that, and the feel of Peggy's fingers on her face, that makes Steph lean in — but she stops just when a sliver of a space is all that exists between their lips. It's impulsive, she knows. And so, so stupid, the kind that'll get her slapped or even punched. But she can't help herself, or the feelings that are threatening to burst out of her. Having been out there, in the thick of battle, has only made the latter especially worse.
Yet she ain't gonna rob Peggy of her choice. Or the chance to get as far away from her as possible. ]
[ Peggy’s aware of the distance shortening between them, but she doesn’t move, lost in Steph’s eyes. She sees a lot of herself there, but something else, too. Something better.
She lets out a small, amused breath when Steph asks permission and then crosses the sliver of distance to press her lips to Steph’s. Something warm and lovely bursts in her chest, a release of the feelings that have been building in her gut since the first day they met. Still, she knows what would happen if they were caught. Her sense of self-preservation won’t allow the moment to linger, no matter how much she wants it to. She pulls back, reaching up to smooth down Steph’s hair gently. ] Would you like to come to my quarters? For a drink?
[ Steph's blinking, still shocked at what just happened. She can't believe it. She'd expected to be shot down, though hopefully in a kinder manner than Peggy would've done to others. For a moment she's at a loss for words, licking her lips with a half-dazed, half-bewildered expression.
When she finally recovers, she grins and answers playfully: ]
Yes, Ma'am.
[ She gets to her feet, then holds a hand out to Peggy. Peggy doesn't need any help, but who says Steph can't be chivalrous about it? ]
[ Peggy grins at Steph and then takes her offered hand before standing and smoothing down her skirt. ] Alright, then.
[ She leads the way through the barracks, her heart fluttering in her chest like a tiny bird. When she reaches the door to her room, she opens it, gesturing Steph in. She closes and locks the door before immediately moving to the window and pulling the curtains tight. She tries to keep her voice unconcerned. ] Will Private Barnes miss you?
[ She moves to her nightstand, pulling out a bottle of whisky and a single glass, pausing to look back at Steph before pouring a finger's worth into it. She holds it out to her.] Go on. You've earned it.
[ Peggy's not the only one with her heart pounding in her ears. Steph finds herself almost unable to breathe when Peggy locks the door and starts closing the curtains. There's nothing wrong with two women having a private conversation, of course... but they both know they're not only here to talk.
She snorts at the question. ] Nah. He'll be too busy with the chorus girls and won't surface until morning. Besides, we've had time to catch up on the trek back.
[ Something in her voice says that hadn't gone well, but she doesn't expand. She's not here to talk about Bucky.
She accepts the drink with a murmur of thanks, then tips it all back in one go. She feels the burn in her throat, though only that and nothing more. Sighing softly, she looks at the glass before handing it back to Peggy. ] Guess it's for the best. I wanna remember every moment of tonight, anyway.
Oh? [ There's an invitation for Steph to say more about the trek back if she wants to. Peggy knows how much Bucky means to her. She watched her brave boot camp at Lehigh and the dismissal of every man in the room before the serum, and she'd seen firsthand the way they'd dressed her up and wound her up like a porcelain pin-up afterwards. All so she could join the fight. So she could do the impossible when the 107th was in danger.
She gives her an apologetic smile as she takes the glass back and pours herself a finger before knocking it back. She wants to remember every moment as well, but she could use a little courage of her own. She sits on the bed and pats the spot beside her. ] Do you miss it?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@nohelprequired
There had been many horrors in that HYDRA factory: their soldiers in cages, Bucky half-dead on that cold metal table, Schmidt peeling back his face, the weapons that disintegrated people in flashes of blue light, the deafening sounds of gunfire. But none had been as horrifying as the first time Steph had swung her shield right into a man's throat, killing him instantly. She can still feel his warm blood on her face and neck, no matter how much and how hard she'd scrubbed in the shower when they'd returned to camp.
She turns to reach for the sketchpad tucked under her pillow. The pencil nearly snaps in two from how much her fingers are shaking, and she has to pause and close her eyes and take in a deep breath. Then she starts to draw the outline of Peggy's familiar, comforting face. ]
no subject
She's alone, sitting on her perfectly made bed with a sketchpad and pencil. Peggy contemplates leaving her in peace but somehow a celebration without her feels impossible. She can still feel the remnants of her heartache when she'd been unable to raise Captain Rogers on the comm earlier that day, only to have her and the others walk into camp a few hours later. She had squeezed Steph's hand so tightly that she was sure she would break it, super soldier serum or not, because she'd been unable to give her the hug she desperately wanted to in front of the others.
She approaches slowly, careful to make her heels heard so that she doesn't actually catch her by surprise. If she wants to be alone, Peggy won't deny her that. When she's close enough to view the sketchpad she glances at it, her breath catching slightly at the detail and softness of it. There's no doubt that it's her, but it's beautiful in a way that is rarely reflected in the mirror these days. She tries to check her flattery, her voice cheerful but tired, measured but soft. ] Moved on from monkeys, have we?
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Not even looking up, she answers, her voice soft and far away: ] I needed to think about something good. Something... real.
[ Bucky had felt real enough. So did Peggy's hand in hers. But once she was alone, she'd felt trapped not just in her new body, but in a living nightmare. She'd drink the feeling away if she could, yet even that was a luxury she couldn't have now. ]
Agent Carter. [ She finally closes the pad, peering up at Peggy with a small smile. ] You should be out there enjoying yourself. I know at least one soldier who'd love to dance with you.
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Peggy smiles back, moving around the corner of the bed to sit down beside her uninvited.] And I know of a dozen who would love to dance with you. But we're not monkeys. I think you've done more than enough to lift their spirits for one day.
[ The Colonel has already put in for an award, all it needs is senate approval. But Peggy thinks that knowledge would embarrass Steph more than flatter her. That's not why she'd gone behind enemy lines.] I thought I might find you with Barnes, actually. Not by yourself.
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[ Steph's feelings for Bucky have always been complicated at best, but there's now an added layer to it. He hadn't been mad, but he hadn't exactly been happy to see her either. Part of her worries about what HYDRA might've done to him; it's not lost on her how fast he seems to have recovered from the half-dead state in which she'd found him. Another part of her can't quite yet reconcile the boy she'd grown up with and the soldier who could shoot another man in the head with lethal precision and detached calm.
Then again, she's killed without second thought, so how is she any different?
She shifts as though uncomfortable, but she scoots closer to Peggy instead, setting the sketchpad aside and balling her hands into fists on her lap. Maybe because she is uncomfortable and yearning for genuine human contact. Sure, the boys had welcomed her, but only because they knew her from the posters. They'd said so themselves to their foreign counterparts: America's favorite pinup girl, come to save the day.
Only Peggy hasn't started looking at her and treating her differently. ]
I got what I signed up for. I... I still don't know how I feel about it. It's been... too much.
no subject
Even now, after she'd risked everything to save Barnes and his battalion, the things she heard in the hall had been enough to make her want to find Hodges and punch him again. She reaches for one of Steph's balled up hands, placing hers lightly over it. She's seen the horrors of war up close and personally. She's been in the middle of battle beside the Colonel and seen man after man after man gunned down, she's been in the war room and seen thousands of troops reduced to toy soldiers on a table. She knows it's not anything that ever gets easier to deal with. She swallows, squeezing her fingers over Steph's fist.] Do you want to talk about it?
no subject
[ She should've been happy, right? She'd gone from plain to unforgettable through the miracle of science, just like that. All because the SSR hadn't wanted to risk one of their soldiers, not when a sickly woman desperate to get to the front lines had been available. One of the dancers had once advised her to embrace it, to just enjoy it, but how could she?
She stares at Peggy's hands over hers. Her resistance only lasts for a moment; her fingers uncurl and, somehow, lace together with Peggy's. She wants to draw this now, too. Such a simple gesture, yet so charged with meaning. ]
I... I've been trying so hard to be in control. [ Even now, as tempted as she is to squeeze Peggy's fingers, she doesn't. She doesn't want to hurt her. ] But I've never been in battle and— [ Her breath hitches, and she shakes her head. ] I don't even remember who he'd been aiming for. But I was close enough, I had a shield, and it shouldn't have been strong enough to cause any damage, but I was, and... oh, Pegs, what have I done? And how many more do I have to— [ She hesitates, before finally saying, in a small, fearful voice: ] ... kill?
no subject
She squeezes Steph's fingers, leaning slightly into her shoulder for more contact, to ground her. She fights the urge to tilt her head so that it's touching Steph's, though there's nothing more she wants than to comfort her. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, her words measured and careful. ] This is war, Rogers. Unfortunately, lives will be lost. Many already have and many more will before it's all over. [ She knows how cold she sounds. She wishes there was a way to soften it, but there isn't.] Erskine picked you not because you were a good soldier, but because he saw something good in you. He knew that the serum wouldn't corrupt you the way it did with Schmidt. But that doesn't mean you're not capable of killing or hurting others.
[ She swallows.] Do you believe saving those men today was worth the life of one of their captors? Would you take it back if it meant leaving Barnes at their mercy?
no subject
[ She stares at their joined hands. At Peggy's red nails. The color of blood, and the color of Schmidt's now inhuman face. But also the color of Peggy's lips, and the color of passion. Steph is feeling so many things at once that she has trouble finding her words.
Eventually, she manages, though with all pretense of formality forgotten: ]
I don't wanna end up like them, Pegs. Like him. Schmidt.
[ She'd given the Colonel and Peggy her initial report earlier, including her encounter with Schmidt. It hadn't been Schmidt's appearance that had scared her, however, but his utter lack of humanity, and how, on the march back to the base, she'd started to see traces of that in their soldiers' eyes, too. ]
no subject
She takes a breath and reaches up with her free hand to tilt Steph’s chin up so that she can look her directly in the eye. ] You may doubt yourself at the moment, but I don’t. You won’t forget where you came from or why we’re fighting. You won’t ever take a life that you don’t have to. And that’s why you’ll never be like him. That’s why I trust you to wield the power you’ve been given.
no subject
[ Steph is moved. Peggy will catch it in the blonde's eyes. Not just the glistening hint of tears, but also the realization that she's been seen.
It's that, and the feel of Peggy's fingers on her face, that makes Steph lean in — but she stops just when a sliver of a space is all that exists between their lips. It's impulsive, she knows. And so, so stupid, the kind that'll get her slapped or even punched. But she can't help herself, or the feelings that are threatening to burst out of her. Having been out there, in the thick of battle, has only made the latter especially worse.
Yet she ain't gonna rob Peggy of her choice. Or the chance to get as far away from her as possible. ]
Ma'am... if I may—
no subject
She lets out a small, amused breath when Steph asks permission and then crosses the sliver of distance to press her lips to Steph’s. Something warm and lovely bursts in her chest, a release of the feelings that have been building in her gut since the first day they met. Still, she knows what would happen if they were caught. Her sense of self-preservation won’t allow the moment to linger, no matter how much she wants it to. She pulls back, reaching up to smooth down Steph’s hair gently. ] Would you like to come to my quarters? For a drink?
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When she finally recovers, she grins and answers playfully: ]
Yes, Ma'am.
[ She gets to her feet, then holds a hand out to Peggy. Peggy doesn't need any help, but who says Steph can't be chivalrous about it? ]
no subject
[ She leads the way through the barracks, her heart fluttering in her chest like a tiny bird. When she reaches the door to her room, she opens it, gesturing Steph in. She closes and locks the door before immediately moving to the window and pulling the curtains tight. She tries to keep her voice unconcerned. ] Will Private Barnes miss you?
[ She moves to her nightstand, pulling out a bottle of whisky and a single glass, pausing to look back at Steph before pouring a finger's worth into it. She holds it out to her.] Go on. You've earned it.
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She snorts at the question. ] Nah. He'll be too busy with the chorus girls and won't surface until morning. Besides, we've had time to catch up on the trek back.
[ Something in her voice says that hadn't gone well, but she doesn't expand. She's not here to talk about Bucky.
She accepts the drink with a murmur of thanks, then tips it all back in one go. She feels the burn in her throat, though only that and nothing more. Sighing softly, she looks at the glass before handing it back to Peggy. ] Guess it's for the best. I wanna remember every moment of tonight, anyway.
no subject
She gives her an apologetic smile as she takes the glass back and pours herself a finger before knocking it back. She wants to remember every moment as well, but she could use a little courage of her own. She sits on the bed and pats the spot beside her. ] Do you miss it?