Knock, knock. [Log: Complete] Despite Bucky saying he’d talk to the Conductor for him, Steve waited until Barnes was asleep and sought out cabin 8 on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Bucky - quite the opposite, really. But Bucky wanted to help him with everything, and some things… Steve was telling himself that he needed to try and do some things for himself. Bucky would gloss over the damage to the room, explain that it wasn’t Steve’s fault, make excuses… all with the best of intentions. But Steve knew better. He was responsible. And the Conductor deserved to know what had happened.
He still hesitated outside the door for several minutes before knocking. And shuffled his feet, looking at the ground once the knock had sounded.
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The Conductor was not a morning person. Her eyes opened blearily and she groaned slightly hearing the knock on the door. It wasn’t on purpose. The Conductor took her customer service responsibilities seriously, but her eyes couldn’t help but slide to the clock. The alarm wasn’t set to go off for another thirty-eight minutes.
Using her fingers to straighten her hair the best she could, The Conductor slipped her feet into blue slippers that matched her official blue and white striped pajamas before opening the door. Really, she tried to smile, but the best she could do was blink sleepily and let her eyes focus on the passenger in the hallway.
“Steve? Is everything alright?”
The Conductor yawned and rubbed at her eyes, hoping her hair didn’t look too ridiculous.
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He blinked at her for a moment. Her hair was rumpled, eyes bleary but concerned, and her pajamas were slightly unruly from sleep. The thought crossed his mind that she looked cute. That stunned him into silence for a few moments.
“Um. Sorry. I, uh…” He shut his eyes for a moment. “I broke something. Sorry.”
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“Oh,” she said. There was a less charitable part of her brain that wondered why he couldn’t have waited another thirty-two minutes or so to tell her, but she quickly pushed the thought back and smiled, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Did you need to get something replaced? Are … you alright?”
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His brain put together the pajamas, the hair, and the eyes. “Were you sleeping?” Guilt poked him, hard, in the gut. “I’m sorry. I’m… no, it’s just the floor… and the wall… and the, uh… the sheets.” He winced. “I… Idon’twanttohavetoleave.”
The words came out as one, almost too fast to be understood.
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The Conductor needed tea, maybe even coffee or a nice espresso shot. She had no idea what he was going on about. How does the floor break?
“Huh? Come on, let’s go have a look.”
She wasn’t thinking about personal space or the knives he regularly kept on his person when she reached up and gave his metal arm a reassuring couple of pats. Her brain still hadn’t put it together why he would look so worried or ashamed. Maybe the first destination would be a nice theme park. Something lovely. Steve looked like he could use lovely.
The Conductor walked with Steve to his room and waited for him to open the door.
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He tensed when she reached for him, but didn’t otherwise react. The pat on the arm was unexpected, but reminded him of the gentle pats from Baymax. She didn’t seem angry or upset. Yet. He wasn’t certain how she would react when she saw the holes in the floor.
He moved back down the car with her and opened the door when she waited, then stepped aside so that she could survey the damage. There were gouges in the floor and wall from his fist and elbow, the rich wood cracked and splintered. There was indeed a hole in the floor, though it thankfully hadn’t penetrated to the undercar - the rail was not exposed. The wall had two holes. The bed was a mess, with torn sheets and pillows spilling onto the floor.
He didn’t say anything, only stared with a vacant gaze as he waited for her verdict.
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“Oh dear…”
The Conductor stepped into his room to survey the damage, inspecting the gauges and holes, looking down at the torn bedsheets. The bedsheets were the least of her concerns as she looked back at Steve with her mouth slightly agape.
“How did you…?” Walking back toward him, she took both of his hands and examined them. “Are you alright? Was it with the metal one?”
She even gave his metal hand a little shake as she looked him over for injuries.
“How did this happen?”
It was a good thing he had his own room. The Conductor let go of his hands and thought.
“I have another single room left. We could move you until the repairs are done. Room number…” It was too early to recall as hard as she tried. “Well, I know I have another one vacant.”
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His expression didn’t change until she offered another room. That was when Steve looked at her, surprise clear in his eyes. Surprise and confusion. “You… why aren’t you angry?”
He could (somewhat) understand Bucky not getting mad at him. Bucky was a sentimental idiot. And his best friend. Apparently the two traits went together. But the Conductor was the closest thing to a handler he had. Why was she concerned about him?
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Her expression dropped slightly. The Conductor did look slightly annoyed at that, but who could blame her? It was early. She’d asked him if he was alright and what happened and he had answered neither so she went about checking his flesh arm and hand a little more carefully for cuts and scrapes. There were abrasions on the knuckles there but that looked like it.
“Did you purposefully intend to damage the room?” she asked him, before walking him back toward her room. There were a few small first aid kits on the train but the closest her morning brain could recall was in her room. She took the kit and started to clean up his hand.
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He went with her, silent and obedient. AAt the question, he shook his head. “No. I had a bad dream. And I attacked Bucky.” His voice was quiet, dispassionate. He didn’t react when she began to clean the scrapes on his knuckles.
A flicker of emotion crossed his face for an instant. “I’m sorry.”
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The Conductor had nearly been reassured. A bad dream, that made perfect sense. Why on Earth would she be upset until he mentioned attacking another passenger. Then the Conductor froze and she realized just how very awake she was.
“Next time lead with that!” The Conductor did sound alarmed and mildly cross, but tried to restrain her emotion until she had more information. “Is he alright? Do I need to call a doctor?”
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Steve blinked. “Um. Bruises? On his cheek and… and his throat. But he seemed okay. We heal pretty fast.”
He furrowed his brow. “I was dreaming about my last mission. I was supposed to kill him. But I didn’t. He… he was my friend. But in the dream… I woke up and I was still there.”
He didn’t know how else to explain it.
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“Steve, I have a duty of care to you and to all the other passengers.” Satisfied his hand would not be getting an infection, she packed up the small first aid kit. Her shoulders slumped. “You… have to be more careful. Promise me you won’t…”
The Conductor frowned, feeling a little lost.
“There are a few different doctors on the train. Will you please see one about the dreams?”
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He frowned a bit, confused. “Can a doctor make the dreams stop?” Steve worried at his lower lip. “I… I don’t want to be this. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
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“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her fingers went to the watch chain on her uniform. “But you have to try something.”
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He was quiet for a long moment, considering what she was suggesting. “If I see a doctor about the dreams, I can stay?”
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The Conductor let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m not kicking you off the train, Steve! But that doesn’t mean you should sit around on your bum and simply hope it doesn’t happen again, either. There are a small handful of people on this train you should at least try to consult with.”
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Steve was surprised by her exasperation, and blinked. Then he nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it.”
His flesh hand closed lightly over hers. “I’m sorry. Bucky said he won’t let me hurt anyone else. I… I promise I won’t hurt him again.” He didn’t like that she’d been upset by that.
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The Conductor looked down at his hand. In some ways, she realized, he was already doing so much better than when he first arrived. She nodded her head and then shook it, “No, you promised me to go to one of the physicians on the train.”
She looked him in the eye to make sure he’d follow through.
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Steve met her eyes in return, then blushed, looked away, and quickly looked back. “I promise,” he said, “to go one of the physicians on the train about my dreams.”
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“Okay. Good.” The Conductor smiled. “Did you want to move to the other room until the repairs are made?”
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He shrugged. “I'd rather stay. I don't want to mess up another room if something happens.” His jaw clenched slightly. It was his room. He didn't want it taken away, even for a little while. He didn't have much that was his.
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“Alright,” The Conductor nodded. She was about to let him go, but instead added, “And you’re really alright? All things considered?”
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For a long moment, he was silent. His hand tightened on hers for a second, and then he let out a breath. “Physically, I'm alright. The rest?” He shrugged. “I'm getting there.”
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The Conductor’s expression softened, “I know you will.”