sarah grant 🇺🇸 [steve rogers] (charcoal) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-03-21 23:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, r * laura, r: sarah grant |
WHO: Sarah Grant
WHEN: tonight
WHERE: her studio
SUMMARY: Sarah remembers the Bucky/Steve vs Tony showdown and reflect on friendship.
When Sarah admitted to Mikhail that she drew what she’d seen, she might’ve downplayed it, but she hadn’t been lying. She tried to stick to charcoal or pencil drawings -- canvases took up way too much space, and she and Margaret weren’t blessed with a ton of extra storage just for Sarah’s paintings. And pencil was cheaper than paint, in the long run, even if Sarah chose to use paper. At least with pencil, she could fill up notebook after notebook full of scribbles of what she saw, of Steve’s memories, of his experiences, of the people who he loved. Bucky featured prominently, of course. So did Peggy. The other Avengers were present, too, and Sarah thought she should feel guilty for how unequal the representation was … but she didn’t. It was what it was. She’d had some trouble getting images out of her head that week, and whenever that happened, Sarah retreated with her notebook to try to do something with the memories, instead of letting them fester. What haunted her that week were mountainous, snowy landscapes, seemingly devoid of all life. An empty quinjet, save for two figures, who were inescapably linked through the years, whose lives had run parallel to each other ever since childhood. It seemed nothing more than sheer luck, in Sarah’s eyes (and in Steve’s), that Steve was the one who’d been born sick and not Bucky, that Steve was the one who’d been too frail for the Army and had wound up in Erskine’s care instead. Their lives could have been so different, so easily. Instead, Bucky had wound up damaged by years of forced servitude. What ran through Steve’s mind as they flew towards Siberia, to set things right, was that if things all went to hell again and they couldn’t free him from the accusations and the words that followed him, at least they would be together in the end. Steve hadn’t counted on Tony’s presence. The deep wound in his eyes haunted Sarah's thoughts, too. Limping away from that bunker deep in the frozen cliffside, Steve had felt unrelenting despair, even though they’d managed to get the answers they needed, even though the threat was stopped. It didn’t feel like a win. As they flew away, Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off the doors of the bunker. He thought about Tony, who he’d left behind there. Tony, who he wasn’t sure he could trust. (Tony, who wasn’t sure he could trust Steve). Steve had salvaged one friendship, at the cost of another. Had it been worth it? (He guessed Bucky would’ve said no, but Bucky didn’t think highly of himself at the moment.) Sarah’s brow furrowed. She knew exactly what painting she was going to give to Mikhail, and she didn’t think he needed to come over inspect the options or make an requests. She knew exactly what was right for him: it was a cityscape, a street in Brooklyn. Two figures walking on the sidewalk, one with his arm slung around the other’s shoulders. The figures were distant enough that they could’ve been anyone, but Sarah knew Mikhail would understand. The gravity of what Steve and Tony had done to each other had been weighing heavily on Sarah since dreaming of it earlier in the week, and she didn’t know how to shake it. She chewed on the end of her pencil. None of them deserved any part of what had happened. She’d sketched a quick image of Iron Man in her notebook -- not as she’d last seen Tony in the dream, but how Steve truly saw him, brave and heroic and standing up against forces beyond their control. Their lives didn’t have to take that path, though. That was one of the blessings about Dunhaven. As much as it hurt to relive Steve’s worst moments, there was hope at the end: this was a chance for a new life, a new ending to the story. And maybe Mikhail wasn’t the only one who might appreciate a Sarah Grant original. Maybe that was presumptuous. It probably was. Sarah wasn’t sure. There was only one way to find out, however. |