(no subject)

[onlyforthedream]

Teaching helps me keep my mind off of the past few days. Since the 11th, every morning's been a trial. They haven't gotten easier, the way I'd expected them to. The events of that day, that Bucky and I were trapped in, what came after- they follow me around as much as the actual events ever did. The first week I was unbearable to be around, and I knew it, and I tried to make myself as scarce as possible. Bit by bit, I'm getting back to myself, I'm being less distant, I'm brooding less- at least visibly.

But it's not getting easier, and I don't know that it ever will, and the thought is troubling.

So I do what a lot of people seem to. I pile more onto my plate, try to keep busy and distract myself, and teaching is maybe my favorite way of doing so. The class is going well- those who were already trained, or skilled, are advancing in their personal styles and grasp of an artist's tools. Those who took the class for the novelty all know how to sketch, now. They're learning quickly, and well, and doing good work. I'm considering encouraging a collaboration between the drawing and painting classes, though I'm not sure how yet.

I stayed after, today, to work on my own. The extra room in the gallery I teach the classes in is airy and large, and quiet, and I like spending time in it. I just washed the white button down shirt and khakis I'm wearing, but they already have graphite smudges on the collar and rolled up sleeves, a little forest green paint on my belt loop. I don't mind it. I leave the larger piece I'm just starting to sketch out covered and in the back, and small sketchbook tucked into my back pocket, stubby pencil absently turning on my thumb, I head for gallery's exit, entrenched in thoughts of what to do next and where to head, now, if there's any distraction I can conceive of.

The day has been an easy one, the class a good one, and it'll be light outside for another few hours. Time enough for something, though I'm not sure what. I absently scratch my cheekbone with the thumb of the hand my sketching pencil's in, and when I drop it again there's a figure in my peripheral vision, one of the infrequent visitor's to the gallery, I assume. As badly as I thought I needed a distraction, though, I find myself hesitant to look over and risk having to interact.

Maybe I can finish the repairs to Captain Thrace's punching bag. Then maybe she'll let me use it again.

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[youlosetrack]

One night and morning she'd been on this island, and Peggy could still hardly believe it. She hadn't slept at all, though fatigue had begun to wear her down shortly after dawn. She'd spent hours upon hours detailing their strike on Schmidt's fortress, hours preparing to move forward and fight the actual battle, only to arrive here and spend more time learning about the new land she'd inexplicably arrived in. She'd registered with the council, discovered she had indeed arrived in a tropical paradise, met some of the residents and made use the facilities, though the clothes were not to her taste and she ended up wearing the outfit she'd arrived in. All were, of course, ways to put off the one thing she truly wanted to do.

Just like the last few months of her life, it always came back to Steve Rogers.

It wasn't hard to believe he was alive and well here, and even teaching; Steve would thrive no matter where he was sent, and if anyone deserved a vacation, it was surely him. She'd been warned, of course, that he may be different, that those who arrived on the island could come from different times and, even, universes. That didn't matter; she had to see, with her own eyes, that Steve was alive and well.

Once the afternoon rolled around, Peggy found her stomach tied up in a dreadful series of knots, each emotion stranger and more overwhelming than the last. They'd never gone and said anything, nor had they ever had much more than one kiss. A promise to dance after the war didn't seem to hold up against her new situation, and she questioned whether Steve would even feel the same way for her anymore.

The only thing she could do to answer her questions and settle things once and for all would be to face Steve, and Peggy was no coward. She made sure to arrive at the gallery as his class ended, standing just outside the door as students began to leave. Their curious glances merited only a polite smile, and she waited until there was nothing but the sound of him cleaning up, his measured steps moving around the room, before she entered.

"Steve?"

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

Damn. I stop and lift my head, determined to be at least polite, and find myself stopping short.

Her face.

I don't recognize the woman, exactly. She's beautiful- even if there wasn't something hauntingly familiar about her, I would see from a mile away that she's beautiful- but there's something about her mouth, and the shape of her face, her nose.

She looks so much like Peggy. Her hair is a different color, a different cut. Her eyes are a warm soft brown, not the startling, clear blue that Sharon inherited from her aunt, but coloring aside, the women could be sisters.

They could be twins.

And she knows me.

I know I'm staring, peering at her like a puzzle, like I'm being faced with something I can't remember being either real or dreamed up. Slipping the nub that was my sketching pencil into my pants pocket, I turn toward her and take a few steps across the room.

"Yes?"

[youlosetrack]

He hardly needed to answer her for Peggy to know it was Steve. From his shoulders and the blue of his eyes to the careful way he looked her over, as though trying to figure her out without having to ask.

That he had to think about who he was talking to had her pause a moment. She wasn't sure what she expected; heartfelt reunions weren't the way she went about things, but there was a part of her that very much wanted to close the distance between them and simply kiss him.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted and finally looked away, unable to take that inquisitive gaze any longer. Either he was her Steve Rogers or he wasn't, and it seemed he was leaning toward the latter. She felt ridiculous. "Do you remember me?"

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

I feel like a crazy person. The equation can't be that simple, because there are exceptions- Pepper, Thor- but Peggy Carter's eyes are blue, and this woman's eyes are brown. She's English. Her poise is different. This is not the woman I fought beside.

Which doesn't meant she's not-

"Peggy?" I ask softly.

[youlosetrack]

Her shoulders dropped slightly, posture sacrificed for the pure relief that flooded through Peggy. That initial hesitation still brought up a score of questions, but for Steve to know her was, for the moment, enough.

"Yes," she answered, losing just about all the confidence she'd worked up over the past few hours since finding out he was on the island as well. "You're alive."

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

This would be difficult, awkward, and complicated enough but I have no idea when she's from or how things fell out in her timeline. I do know she's upset, though, for all that she's relieved. It's written into every line of her, and I'm at least partly the cause.

"I am," I tell her, approaching her slowly, "I never actually died. I was just missing, for a time, with no way to get back." From what I know of Tony's timeline, that detail seems to remain unchanged across most universes. I hope I'm not lying to her, now.

"For a long time. Peggy, we... We need to sit down. Talk."

I need to tell her who I am, or more importantly, who I'm not. It's not going to be easy.

[youlosetrack]

"Then we'll talk," Peggy replied, but made no move to do so. She couldn't take her eyes off Steve, silently cataloging the little differences. He seemed slightly older, experience lining his face and speaking to a life lived after his supposed death.

She was actually quite interested in hearing how he'd gotten out of that one.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

I realize belatedly I'm staring, again, but the differences- and the similarities- it's a lot to take in. I don't know her. I have to remind myself I don't, and with the accent and the hair it shouldn't be difficult, but there's something fundamentally familiar about her.

"Please," I say, stepping back a little, touching her elbow with one hand and gesturing with the other into the room with the stools and broad shared tables.

[youlosetrack]

"You're a teacher," she said with a small amount of wonder as she stepped into the room, as though looking around at the tables and evidence of sketches and paintings was more convincing evidence than simply hearing about it. She was acquainted with Steve's talent, and it made sense he would teach.

It just wasn't the sort of role Peggy had ever considered Steve in, despite his natural talent for leadership.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"Not for very long," I reply, ducking my head briefly. I pull out a chair for her.

"The skill set I've developed over the years isn't as useful here as it was back home. There are emergencies, but day to day life is... probably the most peaceful I've ever seen," I tell her, waiting until she's seated to pull out a chair of my own, across from her.

"And I guess I couldn't handle being useless, so I thought... why not."

[youlosetrack]

"I'm not sure I remember what peace is like," Peggy admitted, taking the offered seat. "I'll have to find ways to keep myself busy now, I suppose."

She still hadn't thought of being here for more than an hour or two in the future at a time; any further would strain her already thin belief in what was happening.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and clasping my hands, looking over her face.

It's difficult to stop.

"...Peggy, I don't want to confuse you, or shock you, any more than the circumstances necessitate. I hope this doesn't seem an unfair request, but could you brief me on events, for you, how they happened and how long ago?"

[youlosetrack]

"We were storming Johann Schmidt's base," Peggy replied after a moment. It was the last thing she wanted to recount, and even less so if it meant pointing out the varying differences between this Steve and hers.

"He took off in his experimental plane, and you boarded it. I assume you defeated him, and...you took the plane down in the Atlantic before anyone would be harmed." There were details missing -- their kiss, their conversation -- but Peggy wasn't ready to bring them up until she was sure of her footing with Steve.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

...My God, what?

"That is..." I blink a few times, looking down at my hands, absently digging my thumb into my palm.

"That is not entirely dissimilar to what happened to me, but a few things are markedly different. The last day of the war for me was in May, 1945, when Private James Barnes and I pursued intel we'd been given about an experimental drone plane being launched by Baron Heinrich Zemo. It was rigged to explode, and when we intercepted it, it did, over the north Atlantic."

[youlosetrack]

A few things?

Peggy had nothing to say for a few long seconds, trying (and failing, in some respects) to understand what Steve was saying. Being told things may have been different was no protection against the shock at being confronted with how much so.

"1943. Sergeant Barnes was killed in action a few weeks past," Peggy compared, the confidence slowly draining from her voice, though she did her best to cling to it. "I'm not the same Peggy Carter you know, am I?"

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

I can't remember the last time I felt like such a heel, but it can't be helped. She has to know.

In her world I was KIA by '43, and Bucky before then. It's too strange a thought for me to make sense of, but then, I don't have to. What's happening now is more important.

"No," I say softly.

"In my timeline, Special Agent Margaret Carter was an American working with the French Resistance."

[youlosetrack]

Strange as their entire conversation was, Peggy found certain details more bewildering than the rest.

"American?"

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"From Virginia," I confirm, with a brief nod. I prefer her looking a little miffed to her look a little heartbroken, so I'll take it.

[youlosetrack]

"I'm not sure I know how to take that," she admitted. "American. Honestly."

It was enough of a distraction from the conversation at hand, something to clear her head and bolster herself back up with. "Were you close?"

She wasn't quite sure how to feel if the answer was yes. On one hand, it was a version of herself. On the other, it wasn't her, and she still remembered the fury and disappointment she'd felt when she spotted Steve in some other woman's arms.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

Uh oh.

I don't know why I'm hesitant to answer this, but I feel some kind of alarm bell going off somewhere in my head. Any kind of prior, relevant experience would be welcome, here, but I don't have anything to draw from.

So I'm honest.

"Yes," I tell her, my gaze dropping for a moment to the floor, "though we didn't see as much of each other as we would have wanted. The war took me all over, and the missions that brought us into contact were relatively few and far between."

[youlosetrack]

There were very many places her mind wanted to go, a million questions to ask -- but none were constructive, and all would drive her mad. There was no stopping what was already in motion, and for now, it had to be enough that Steve was alive and well.

It would be.

"So were we." Peggy didn't want to admit as much and invite rejection, but she couldn't keep it from Steve when he was doing his best to be honest with her.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

Look at you, Peggy, I would have had to've been an idiot not to.

"I can believe that," I reply quietly, then sit back and run my hand briefly over the back of my neck.

"I'm-" I make a small, barely audible frustrated sound, dropping my hand and smearing graphite somewhere, because there's a streak of it across my palm.

"I'm not him, Peggy. I'm sorry. I wish I were." For her sake, at least. I hope she doesn't find me disappointing by comparison.

[youlosetrack]

"I understand, Steve. I wasn't asking you to be," she replied, but she couldn't deny the slight hope that he might have been. The disappointment wasn't unexpected, but that hardly made it any easier to take.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"I know," I answer, smiling thinly, "you haven't asked anything of me, yet. I wish you would, I'd feel more helpful."

Because right now, I mostly feel like a jerk. I'm totally blindsided and I have no idea how to handle this gracefully, how to make it less awkward or make her feel...

I don't know how I'm making her feel.

[youlosetrack]

"I don't know that I'd feel comfortable enough asking anything of you just yet," Peggy responded. "I was lucky enough to have a nice young man show me around when I arrived. But...I saw Sergeant Barnes's name in the council files. Is he well?"

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

No, but I can't tell her why. With the events of the past 24 hours piled on top of what we went through a few days ago, it would be safe to say he's the worst he's been in a while. There isn't a thing I can do about it, of course, and that combined with the still-fresh, aching pain of living that day through over and over makes me out to be lousy company.

"He's the head of the task force, here, manages to keep busy. The day we- When the drone exploded, I was flung wide from the blast, into the water, but Bucky lost an arm. It took him a long time to come back, to get where he is- be who he is. But I'm grateful that he has." I'd leave it there, except it only breeds more questions, and that isn't fair, either.

"I would have frozen to death in those waters- any man would have- except the serum... It kept my body running, kept me in a kind of stasis." I drop my hands from where they're clasped.

"Tony Stark thawed me out over half a century later."

[youlosetrack]

She'd never been as close to any of the men as she had to Steve, but Peggy had grown fond of Sergeant Barnes (aside from his inability to keep himself from staring at everything but her face) over time, and she made a mental note to call on him. Once her mind stopped spinning, of course.

"Half a century...Tony Stark? As in Howard's son?"

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"The very same," I reply with a brief nod.

"It may not be much comfort, but I can understand what it's like to wake up somewhere where everything's... strange. And different."

[youlosetrack]

Trying to imagine any progeny of Howard's -- who were just like him, of course -- was enough to send Peggy's mind spinning.

"Different is a word for it," she agreed. "It will take me some time to get used to everything I've seen and heard."

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"It's a lot to take in," I agree.

"Peggy, if there's... If there's anything I can do, any questions I can answer, any help I can offer, please know that I want to." I wasn't ready for this. The offer must seem horribly clumsy, but I honestly don't know what else to do.

[youlosetrack]

"I do know, Steve." She puts her hands together in her lap, resisting the urge to reach out for a simple touch -- a hand on his arm, to still his nerves (and hers, she had to admit), anything. "Thank you for offering, but I honestly don't know what to ask first."

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

I nod a little, clamping down on the instinct, sudden and grossly inappropriate, to reach over and take one of the hands folded so carefully in her lap.

"You can always find me here, around class time. My house is easy to hunt down, too, once you learn where the streams are. Have you thought about your living arrangements? The compound's a little... well," I say, smiling slightly, "military. There are standing structures available, usually, small homes, but I can introduce you to a man, Duck MacDonald. He helped me put my place up, he's a wonderful carpenter."

I may or may not sound like a rambling idiot, it's hard to tell, objectively, from this side of things.

[youlosetrack]

While he seemed to sure of himself, there was still a spark of the old Steve in him -- the man she'd first met, who could hardly hold a conversation with Peggy if he thought too hard about the right things to say or how to say them.

It put a smile back on her face, and made her feel more at ease.

"I would like that, thank you. I haven't had a home to call my own in years." She still wasn't sure if she could begin to call this island home, but she would damn well try to make herself as comfortable as possible.

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"Well, maybe we can fix that," I say, knowing immediately that I do so more softly than I intend to, that I'm-

Staring. Again. I glance briefly at my hands before offering Peggy another quick smile.

[youlosetrack]

Peggy was quiet a moment herself, returning Steve's smile and feeling almost shy. "I would enjoy a tour sometime as well."

[onlyforthedream.livejournal.com]

"Anytime," I tell her, and feel myself smile a little more in reply to her own.

"...It is so good to see you again."

[youlosetrack]

There weren't many words in the English language more pleasant to hear than those few strung together, and Peggy felt as though a small burden was lifted off her heart. Yes, he didn't know her as well, and yes, they obviously weren't comfortable around each other, but she had no doubt that would eventually pass.

After listening to what she'd fully believed were his last words, Peggy would do anything to have Steve in her life, no matter the capacity.

"And you, Steve."