Steve Rogers | Captain America (movingspeeches) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-04-27 20:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel 616: au: sharon carter, marvel 616: canon: steve rogers |
Who: Steve Rogers (616) and Sharon Carter (AU)
What: Steve has arrived, and seeks out the first familiar face he knows
Where: Sharon’s place
When: 3 in the morning / Date: April 24th.
Rating: PG-13 because heavy talking willhappen
Notes: Talk of Character death at the very least.
To say that Steve had seen a lot in his life, would not have been inaccurate. He was willing to admit that, even with so much of it having been spent under ice, even with the extreme nature of his day to day life, and the fact that he was a man out of time, hadn’t entirely prepared him for this though. Steve could roll with it, could smooth a hand down the ruffled bits of the uniform and clean himself up. He’d soldier on because that was what he did, even if he was exhausted. He’d pick himself up, even after losing consciousness and waking up seemingly well outside of his cosmic element. When you were a symbol, you didn’t have the luxury of laying down on the job, it was that simple. He knew that the world he’d apparently, somehow, managed to leave behind was in a peril, he knew he needed to get back, but he also knew that the way to go about that wasn’t to go charging about blind and in a panic about it. He needed to stay calm, to consider his presentation, that was important here, and get his bearings before doing anything at all. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in a strange place with no explanation that really made sense and he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be the last time either. That, like all those other things he’d seen, was just the way his life went. He was more than willing to take the small victories though. He wasn’t an unknown here, the literal ground beneath his feet wasn’t trying to eat him, and nothing seemed on fire or in any kind of immediate chaos. The fact that there were names and people he knew who seemed to be in charge of this, who seemed to have a clue about what was happening, and who could provide him with details and information he could use to get his boots on the ground? That sure didn’t hurt either. Of course, it had taken him less than five minutes of looking over the arrivals roster for him to make up his mind where his first stop would be. He wouldn’t even bother checking into his space in the barracks and instead would find a space to clean himself with splashes of cold water on his face. This was… Today had been a day and he was not about to show up at...at… The fact that Sharon was here at all, which made about as much sense as anything else right now, but Steve wasn’t about to question it. Those weren’t the kind of things you asked about, even if with his life he probably should have. With the frayed way his mind worked, even with as tired as he just wouldn’t let himself be, Steve was double-timing it in her direction. Maybe she was a Skrull. Maybe this was all some weird fever dream. Maybe somehow he’d ended up back in Dimension Z all over again...but it didn’t matter. Even if he was about to wake up and forget all of this, he was not going to pass on a chance to go knock on that door. But he damn sure wasn’t about to show up empty handed. The uniform didn’t carry much in the ways of currency, but it was enough for him to get a strong drink, something he was certain they were both going to need. He thought it was rather considerate of his dream self, because the more he thought about the more that was what made the most sense, to even give him something to drink. Of course he only wished that it wasn’t all that tied to the rest of the things in his head...about the last time he’d seen her...about what had happened with… No. He couldn’t think about that now. He needed to square his shoulders, set his jaw, and put one foot in front of the other. Whatever this was, whatever was going on here, he’d figure it out. He’d find his way home or, like the very place he was trying to keep out of his thoughts, he’d make the most of it. Maybe there wouldn’t be a child here who needed him, maybe there wasn’t a tribe that needed saving, or even an old evil that needed to be crushed under the weight of the shield, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered right now was who he was marching towards. When he arrived. a final quick moment was taken, his large hands pushing through blond hair to try and make sure everything smoothed out. He even adjusted his uniform, righting his shoulders and folding his arms behind his back when it was done to stand at attention. It was something familiar, a place he could find ease and a breath of air that would give him the strength to stand there and face whatever was on the other side of it. It was at least ten minutes of standing there, outside her door, before Steve was able to raise a heavy fist to rap on it. He was a man who’d stared down evils, who’d gone toe to toe with gods. He had faced down armies without flinching. He’d battled titans and monsters of every make and model. He’d been hit hard, he’d been broken, and he’d died, and none of those things made him half as… …If this really was Sharon...whatever this was...Steve was at least convinced it would be okay. Sharon never went anywhere without being fully prepared - as it was, that included keeping enough cash on her that might make the average person nervous. The blonde, however, knew damn well that no one that could actually take her in a fight or manage to get her purse or her wallet would actually be there for the money and that meant that, well, she didn’t really tend to pay attention to some social conventions like that. That meant that she got to spare herself hunkering down in the barracks, it meant that she could spare herself only having one set of clothes - granted, all she’d done was rented a small studio, bought a nightgown, and like two shirts, but the point still stood. Sharon had distracted herself by doing that, distracted herself by giving herself something to do until Cosmo had started shopping around the idea of people taking up jobs around the time of the town hall. She was glad for it. Sharon needed the breathing room. She needed to come down from everything. Sure, her world wasn’t nearly as much of a mess as other peoples’ was - it wasn’t even the biggest mess it had been… but it was the biggest mess for her, though that was more personal. Everything about the moment in her life she’d been pulled out of was a mess. Everything except having successfully started to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D., that was about the only thing that had been going right for her lately. Other than that, Sharon wasn’t doing so well. One didn’t do too well when they felt burdened by the crushing guilt of having spit in the face of a beloved Aunt’s memory. One didn’t do too well when they were dragging the weight of loss of half of their friends up a steep hill that you couldn’t see the top of. One didn’t do too well when they felt the stab to the gut of loss that could only come from knowing that losing one of the most important relationships in your life was a loss solidly saddled across your own shoulders. Sharon had no problem owning to any of this, no, denial wasn’t Sharon’s problem. Seeing no way to fix things, that was Sharon’s problem. The guilt was Sharon’s problem. Guilt weighed heavily on someone like Sharon. Someone who only felt like she had two people left to talk to. She’d never lost her friendship with Maria nor Natalia, but they had stayed. Maria had backed her when she went against every gut feeling, every ache in her bones to back Tony. It was better for S.H.I.E.L.D., ’S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to stay on the side of the government, we can’t risk more splintering, not again, not when we’re just getting to a good place in rebuilding…’ She’d played that day over in her head so many times. Agent 13, she mentally corrected herself to say Director Carter, laid there in her bed looking up at the ceiling. Her curtains were open - she could see outside to the rest of Knowhere. It was a… city? Was it technically a city? It didn’t matter. Whatever this place was never slept and the constant buzz and lights that streamed through her windows reminder her of New York. New York never slept either. Someone was always doing something. The street lights were always on. The rattle of the subway could be heard at most hours of the night. Knowhere reminder her of that. It was nothing like Richmond. It wasn’t a good train of thought, it was a train of thought she didn’t want to have, not right now. She wanted Knowhere to be anything but a reminder of all of that. She couldn’t fix things here. She could only move forward. Sharon was good at moving forward. It was what she did. Whether it tightened her chest, whether it made invisible claws dig at the lining of her stomach. Sharon Carter was never idle. She didn’t sit and weep. She moved forward. The sleepless nights that she hid well under concealer, damn good genetics, and a well trained ability to go without sleep made it very easy to pull off an aura of a lack of regrets. In reality, she was full of them at this point. Maria had always known better. Maria had called her out on it. Sharon had listened, sort of. But now, now she was here. Her thoughts were interrupted harshly by the rap on her door and she immediately grabbed the FNX-45 from her nightstand as she pulled a loose silk robe on over the simple shift she’d been laying there in. The movement was instinctual, it was familiar. The rap was too loud to be Natalia and she knew damn well better than to go about just showing up in the middle of the night unannounced and she had no idea who the hell else it could be. Sharon wasn’t paranoid, she was prepared. Wetting her lips she cautiously moved across the small studio apartment. You could take her out of her Earth. But you damn well definitely take the spy out of her. There weren’t a lot of things that could make Sharon freeze in her tracks. She was a soldier, she was a spy, she was one of the best. That, the sight of him standing there - that was actually probably about it. Her gun was trained on him, the door awkwardly open as she stood there a moment, frozen, just breathing as she looked him straight in the face. “Steve?” She said, the tone of her voice was soft. It was some unfamiliar mixture of confusion, absolute shock, and maybe even just the tiniest hint of relief in there. She didn’t lower her gun. Steve just…smiled. There should have a lot of things. He should have been tense about the fact she was pointing a gun at him, should have been trying to find words, something he could say, something she deserved to hear...but what? What did you say to Sharon Carter? What did you say to the woman who...and the last time he saw her when… The smile cracked for half a second, breaking under the strain of that weight. He had fought so hard for that boy. He’d raised him, taken him out of the life he had been given by Zemo, and had done everything he could to make the inhospitable world they lived in something that contained hope. It had all been lost, or so Steve thought, but he’d refused to give up on it. Even with a hole in his gut, even tired, exhausted, and bleeding out, Steve had refused to quit. All he’d needed was that one moment, that one spark of belief that Ian could have something more, and it had been so close. Ian had been right there, reaching out, and then… ...And then he’d lost them both. Steve was a man who could probably move a mountain if he had to but, right now, his knees felt weak. Blue eyes traced out lines he’d drawn hundreds of times since he’d lost her, certain it was the only way he’d ever see them again. There was a brief moment where the oceans above his nose seemed like they were a little glossier than usual and the steady rhythm of his breath faltered and hitched. This was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was nothing he couldn’t handle. A clearing of his throat saw the resolve return, with feet planted firmly and calves told to shape up and get in line. Broad shoulders flexed arms behind his back before his gaze finally found purchase in her own. He searched for a long, long moment. Or was it just that it felt like a long moment? Steve couldn’t be certain, not with the way it felt like time had frozen more than it had when he’d crashed into the ocean. The reality of the situation was that there was barely the breadth of a heartbeat between that clearing and the words he’d speak...but this was Sharon… Steve could write anthologies of poems about her in that heartbeat. “I’d ask if you missed me, but considering you haven’t pulled that trigger, I think it’s pretty obvious.” Because she didn’t need to know that she died. She didn’t need to know how or why. She didn’t need to know about the awful things that had happened, assuming she didn’t already and Steve was absolutely going to bank on the hope that she didn’t. Now he just had to promise not to get too emotional. He didn’t know how this was happening...and while he knew he needed to figure that out...it...it could wait. At least a minute. Five minutes. Twenty. However long it took them to… God, he’d missed her. She’d seen him, or maybe it wasn’t him but it was some version of him, a few times since everything had happened. Since she’d put S.H.I.E.L.D. before her morals. Before she’d yet again picked being a spy over being a woman. Sometimes she could be very bad about that, it wasn’t that the spy and the woman needed to be separate - but there were definitely times, absolutely times when she’d been very badly equipped to being able to spot the moments where the two should be divided. The 50 States Initiative had been one of those moments. Sharon, the woman and the spy, should have won out over S.H.I.E.L.D. director - but she hadn’t. After that, they’d only spoken once. It wasn’t even a conversation really. It hadn’t taken more than that singular look across the room - the way his eyes pierced right through her, the way he’d squared himself up for her to know what was going on. To know she’d caused it… so to find him standing here. To see him standing here in front of her not only unchanged but… but not angry with her? Sharon was confused, the confusion was washing over her in waves as the moments replayed themselves. That time she’d been in Berlin and she’d known he’d seen her. He’d seen her as he walked away with Bucky. There’d been another time in New York too, she’d gone to pick up some things from the FBI - some intelligence she wanted to acquire personally and in person because sometimes, that just had to be done and… she knew she’d seen him standing across the street. She could count the moments on one hand, though she remembered each and everyone. They were seared into her mind. Multiverse. Natalia had said it and the word ran through her mind. Multiverse. Her stomach sank, but she didn’t let it show on her face. If there was one thing that Sharon could be counted on for, it was control. Every inch of her body, every ounce of her soul had missed him. But she didn’t put her gun away, she only lowered it - both hands still solidly in place. Sharon wasn’t paranoid, she was prepared. Her breath was ragged, not that she noticed at the moment - it was the only hint of distress on her. Okay, well, except the gun. The gun, however, should have been expected. The gun was absolutely normal. She never went anywhere without that gun. The bedside table was just about as far as it ever got from her and right now she clutched to its familiar feeling as she ran through things in her head. How. That one was easy. How. How as how they all got here. They just did. Why wasn’t he still furious with her? That was more difficult. The options ran through her mind as he spoke. There were three most likely. Completely different timeline than her own, Natalia’s timeline that seemed just sort of off kilter from her own, or… he was from before everything. Before she’d betrayed him. Before that look. “You’re late.” She said simply. “Nat’s been here over a week. I’ve been here a few days.” She didn’t loosen her grip, but at least she was speaking. She was still, honestly, mostly frozen in place. He sure as hell looked like her Steve and she must have looked like his Sharon at least so… well, the worst case here was like Natalia… he’d be expecting a woman who made a very different decision during their ‘little’ Civil War. Either way, the anxiety was already rising in her chest. No option was particularly good. An angry Steve here to demand answers would have been best. She could have fixed things, she could have fixed things if she’d only been given a chance but…. right now? She’d be a liar if she said she wasn’t relieved just to be looking at some form, some version of him. Some version of something that had such a knack for keeping her steady... And Sharon Carter? She was decidedly not a liar. “Sorry about that.” There was a soft little pause to his words as that boyish smile ticked at the corners of his mouth the way it often would when he knew the things he was about to say might get something thrown at him. “There was a long line at the store…” And with that the bottle was passed around to the front of him and held out to her with a single, muscular, hand wrapped around the neck. “The clerk didn’t believe me when I showed him my Military I.D. I tried to use the AARP card...but that never works either.” He tried to force out a smile, tried to just keep right on going on as he always did, as she’d expect him to. “You’d think one of these days I’d learn.” This was...one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time. Every instinct he had, every wish, whim, and desire, told him to just…move. She was so close, he could just take a step in, sweep a wide arm around her shoulders and just...no. He needed to root himself. He needed to plant his feet, be strong. Or so he told himself. The truth was...was...was that he was still so unsure of this that he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. If this was a dream, that would be the moment where it all collapsed and Steve just… How many years had it been? Even trying to think that far back hit him harder than a Hulk fist. He just...he needed to focus. He needed to focus on Sharon. He needed to take long looks at her. He needed to hang onto this moment. Maybe it would all be gone, maybe it all still was gone and he was just losing his mind. Maybe the Mindless Ones, or the Orb, or Fury, or…who even knew..but something had happened. That..it didn’t even seem unreasonable with everything else that had happened in his life but… Even for a man who lived on hope, this one felt like a lot to ask for from the world. “Natasha’s here?” Calling her that was sometimes a little stiff, but Steve had known Natalia since she barely came above his knee. The news didn’t entirely come as a surprise, though the timeframe didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Not that anything about this did, but she’d been right there alongside him. How had she been her for a week when he’d, at best, been here an hour? No doubt Sharon could have seen the way his eyes dialed in on that detail, as they got that fixed and, at the same time, distant look they always did when he was thinking about something intensely. “Surprised you two aren’t running things around here then.” Because, even in spite of all this, Steve was a master of keeping things below the surface when he felt like someone else needed him more than he needed to deal with things. All it took was one more slow breath, one more little smile as eyes would drop to the bottle in his hand and lift back up to Sharon. “Don’t suppose you could catch me up over a drink could you, Agent Carter?” The title at the end, which was easy to read as a faint term of endearment, passed easily across the space between them but… There was more...more that was heavy and tied to just how intensely he’d missed her and just… “It’s really good to see you Sharon.” Even Steve, who could stem the tide of time and the Universe itself if that was what was asked of him, couldn’t fight the feeling back from dashing out of his mouth. Sharon came to a crashing realization of just how tightly she was gripping the gun in her hands when he held out the bottle of liquor. Why had she been gripping it that tight, anxious wasn’t her thing. Sharon didn’t get anxious, or at least she didn’t admit to it or think about the fact that it was a reality in her life. The truth was, anxiety had been a consistent for her since she’d signed the papers putting the Initiative into effect within S.H.I.E.L.D.’s protocols and it had been a constant and nagging companion for months. She hadn’t noticed that her knuckles were all but bright white when she loosened it and finally looked down from his face to the bottle in hand. She pulled her lower lip through her teeth - the corner of her mouth going up not in a smirk, but in a sort of thoughtful little look that was a habit for her that was practically as old as time. She was almost afraid to touch him. To take the bottle because it meant, very likely, her hand would graze against his. A bunch of crazy ideas ran through her head; Skrulls, zombies, dreams, ghosts, if people could come through - what would stop other things? This could be a really, really cruel trick. God did she hope it wasn’t. But at the same time, damn him for being just about the only person who could actually make her afraid. The groan that followed his little joke was all but involuntary. It was somewhere between habit and just outright instinctual to react to his horrific Dad-jokes about his age. And they were horrific - if she wasn’t holding her gun he probably would have gotten whacked on the shoulder for it. All of her other emotions aside, she just couldn’t help but react to that. Even if he wasn’t from precisely where she was, she had no doubt that unless this was some shape shifting, Skrull invasion level joke on her that… this was at least her Steve in some way, even if it was just his core being. It was an oddly comforting thought that she wasn’t quite reconciled with even as she cleared her throat and let her left hand completely release her gun - keeping it at ready in her right. The fear, the anxiety, the guilt - it had faltered for a brief moment and the little hint of a playful eye roll, that audible groan had won over for the moment. The moment, however, didn’t last. She let out a long breath, it wasn’t quite a sigh and it wasn’t a huff, there was something… frustrated about it and something else to the way the breath came out. Sharon couldn’t, no, Sharon didn’t want to put a finger on the other emotions laden in such a simple sound. A breath, it was such a simple sound and yet some how between the two of them those little sounds actually might be more telling than the words that they were actually speaking. Neither of them was a liar, but that didn’t mean either wasn’t masterful at compartmentalization. Neither of them was a liar, but that didn’t mean that either was lacking for skill about how to keep your cool even when your cup was overflowing with water threatening to scald you. And every feeling that was coursing through Sharon’s nerves were threatening her with third degree burns. Sharon nodded, sending blonde waves tumbling over her shoulders - her free hand moved to instinctually brush them back, the hold hand still gripping that pistol for dear life. “It's, complicated.” She answered simply, this probably wasn’t a conversation for the hallway and it was definitely a conversation to be had with that bottle, but she was scared again. Inviting him inside might crush her. Being near to him might threaten to burst the little bubble she’d tried to start putting around herself the last few days she’d been here. Steve being there would… Sometimes she really did want to slap him for no other reason than that Steve was, well, Steve. This was one of those moments. A moment caught between a trifecta of relief, fear, and longing. Damn him. “Well, the dog is Russian.” She asked, forcing out a little amused huff. Sharon could fake it with the best of them but she was exhausted. Months of not sleeping well. The shock to her system that was Knowhere. She wasn’t on her top game and she damn well knew it and she didn’t like it because while most people wouldn’t see through it, he might. Maria had seen through it, it’d take her time, but eventually she had. But Steve? He wouldn’t need time to. And there it was, she would have eventually plucked it up to ask him inside, but he beat her to it this time. Either he wanted to kill her or he had no idea what she’d done or… she pushed the thoughts aside, he wanted to get caught up. The’d both get answers, whether they liked them or not, soon enough… Sharon was sort of afraid of that… If he didn’t know what she’d done… She pushed the thought away again, “Director Carter to you, Captain Rogers.” She answered - a smirk easily falling onto her lips. A little bit of sarcasm went a long way to feeling a little bit of normalcy. ‘Its good to see you, Sharon.’ The statement made the breath catch in her throat and she reached forward, quickly taking the bottle from him - her hand grazing his for just the briefest of moments before she wet her lips. “I’ll get glasses.” she said, heading back inside to rummage through the cabinets to see what was there. She hadn’t really done too much exploring of exactly what came with the apartment yet besides knowing that there were some basics stored away in the cupboards. She closed her eyes once she put the bottle down on the corner, a shaky breath escaping her lips that she could only hope he didn’t notice as she lingered for just a moment before quickly opening them up, glad to find a very odd assortment of glasses inside. Grabbing two that seemed reasonably similar in shape and size she began pouring each of them a reasonably stiff drink. Like Sharon, Steve was exhausted. That was the nature of their lives, of always working late nights and sacrificing shoulders to the weight of the world. It was why Steve would spend countless hours staring at screens, piecing things together, instead of out celebrating with the other Avengers. It was why he passed on social gatherings, working so other people didn’t have to, not even Veterans Day, or his own Birthday, were things he willingly took for himself. It was just simply the way he was, the way he thought. If someone had to sacrifice, if Steve had a choice, it would always be him. He wasn’t a martyr, he wasn’t trying to attone for a failure, he simply wanted other people to have it more. Exhausted or not, he wouldn’t miss the subtle signs. A lifetime of diplomacy and warfare, of spending time in rooms with killers, thieves, and spies all working towards a common goal, had taught Steve a lot. This said nothing of the times it had been his job to question and interrogate, to try and understand (a place he’d dropped the ball more than once) or how all of that had come together to form a sense of perception that didn’t miss much. Steve would absolutely admit on more than one occasion he was wrong, that he’d been so focused on his own thoughts he had missed the big picture, but that’s not what was happening here. Sharon Carter was alive and well and Steven Grant Rogers wasn’t about to miss a damn thing. “Leave it to Natasha to stack the deck in her favor even when she lands in Alien territory.” Which was a compliment about her more than anything. Steve had known her since...forever. As long as he’d known Logan and neither of those two were known for getting in over their heads even if it was only because they’d literally cut the legs off the ocean to keep from drowning. It was also a clever sidestep away from the things he didn’t quite know how to address, but it bought him another moment to look her over. The white knuckles, the way she pulled her lip through her teeth, the way the gun was immaculately cared for so it would always be at the ready, even the way she groaned at him was taken in. He’d pair it up with her hair, it was a little different than the last time he remembered seeing her (which was something he’d never forget), but when you got zipped into the disembodied head of a Celestial, some things could be overlooked. It was like Sharon had just said, things were complicated. The game had changed and the rules themselves seemed to be in flux. It’d be fine, he’d find his footing, sort it out, and with Sharon. “Director Carter. My mistake.” It wasn’t, but he played it off easily and without thinking. He had encountered enough people in his life who had lost memories or come from different places that he knew better than to raise an alarm bell too quickly about anything. For all he knew, this could have been Sharon from somewhere way, way off in his own timeline. She’d been the Director before, albeit briefly and knowing Natasha didn’t give him any kind of clues as to what was going on here, she’d been with the organization too long for that to be of much help to anyone. Whatever was going on here, Steve knew he was going to have to spend more time with her to figure it out… Not that there would have been any question about following her inside. She could have been a Skrull, a Super Skrull even, and Steve probably still would have followed her. Even just watching her walk, a few steps in front of him, soothed that long festering wound that was at the very center of his heart. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe something was wrong, maybe she wasn’t Sharon… No, she was, she had to be. He was sure of that, or he wanted to be sure of it. If he was wrong, if his worst fears were realized and she was a shapeshifter, or a celestial even, well, they’d destroy that apartment in a battle that would shake the walls of Asgard, even from here. For now, he’d just let her pour the drink, taking it once it was done and raising it in her general direction. “Any ideas for a toast?” The amber liquid poured slowly from the bottle - it was purposeful, Sharon actually might have started shaking if she let herself, if she’d moved too quickly. She wasn’t prone to things like that but, standing with your ex who you weren’t actually sure was your ex and who you decidedly would have preferred to not be your ex (in the sense of not being broken up, rather than their presence, of course) in a barely furnished apartment that happened to be located in a Celestial Alien God’s head in space? Well, if the Civil War had put her on edge, if confronting Tony just before she ended up here hadn’t damn near pushed her own it - well, this was a lot even for Sharon and she was just trying to take it in slowly. Apparently, fate didn’t give a damn if she wanted to take things in slowly. Fate had decided that she wasn’t going to get time to decompress. Well, at least something felt familiar there. Sharon had never been granted a lot of time to decompress from anything. Finishing pouring her own glass, she started on his, “She sure does have a hell of a knack for that.” Sharon said - there was a light laugh in her underlying tone but, there was still that hint of exhaustion there. That hint of something else in her voice that wasn’t normal for her. Sharon had never had a problem with being honest, but there was something about the sheer amount of emotions all hitting her at once that was different and it was getting to her, even just a little bit. If the feeling in the pit of her stomach as she poured his glass was any indicator, she was a little displeased with herself. She was displeased with herself because she was allowing herself to hope and that could end so badly. Allowing herself to hope right now even though nothing seemed totally off felt like she was allowing herself to go too against her instincts. It was probably just how exhausted she was. She was exhausted physically and she had a feeling that was about to be followed up by sheer emotional exhaustion whether she liked it or not. She’d caught something in his tone with the way he’d repeat Director Carter back to her, she wasn’t sure what it was but she caught it. She couldn’t blame him though, whether he was from Natalia’s timeline or her slightly divergent one - Director could easily be shocking to him. For all she knew she’d been Director at some point in Talia’s timeline and for all she knew that was far in the future or deep into the past for him. Hell, the same could be said for her own timeline. It didn’t answer anything, not yet. The only hint she had towards things right now, the only hint, was the fact that he wasn’t angry with her. That those bright blue eyes weren’t looking through her like she’d punched him right in the gut with betrayal. Sharon finished pouring the second glass and reached for the cap, closing up the bottle of liquor and putting it behind the two glasses on the counter before she picked them both up - handing one to him with her right hand. Her fingers grazed his as he told the glass from her and she wet her lips gently with her tongue, it was an instinctual move to stop herself from clearing her throat nervously. Damn him, only he could do this to her. Only Steve Rogers, Captain America, the man standing right in front of her could do this to her. Make her feel afraid, nervous, confused. Only him. Damn him. Arching a slender eyebrow she tilted her head slightly to the side, blonde locks of hair shifting again as she looked up at him. “Speeches have always been more your thing.” She said, that little smirk pulling at the corner of her lips again as she raised her glass. There was a very real part of Steve, primarily the part of him at the back of his calves, that wanted to push him up behind her. He’d known her long enough to spot the small things, they way her voice would shift or her shoulders would slump just slightly when she was trying to convince him she wasn’t tired for instance, and the reflex to assuage those feelings by smoothing a hand up and over the curve of her shoulder was a very real thing. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move. This was all too real, too raw, and knowing just what to do with it was...or felt..impossible. It wasn’t. He’d done this before. Countless times people he knew had lost their lives, only to come back to him down the road. Both of his oldest friends had done it. He had done it himself more than once, or so the world told him. This was not the same though. This was Sharon. This was Sharon. When he’d lost her in Dimension Z he’d...never really recovered. Some people thought he did, but these were the same people where he never said what had happened. He never told them about Ian. He never told them about what had happened to Sharon. It was just a thing that went sideways and had cost him a fortune in the heavy bags he’d put his fist through. “One of her many.” Steve agreed, because that was easier to focus on that anything else actually going on in the room right now. The room itself however, would be taken into account. The furniture, the walls, the lack of general decor, all of it painted a picture that this was all new. It fit with what she’d said about her own recent arrival and, while Steve had accepted that when she’d mentioned it, it made him want to reach out to her all the more. Had she been pulled her from Dimension Z? It...Steve couldn’t think about that. All he could do right now was take the drink when she offered it to him and try very hard to keep his poker face up when he felt the fingers brush for the second time. “I seem to recall one or two of them in your time.” The smile that followed was easy after that, even if the memories that were tied to what he was talking about did punch him in the gut. “I suppose calling them speeches might be a bit of stretch.” He actually found himself smirking at her and the thing would blossom into that boyish smile that was uniquely his and just about as rare as the times when Logan would say he liked someone. “Lectures might be the better word for it, usually about whatever stupid thing I was about to do.” There were a lot of things that came after those fights too, when he’d done something incredibly stupid but...well...that memory wasn’t as pleasant to visit. “So it’s on me then is it?” And he couldn’t help the way his eyes settled on her. He couldn’t help the way blue eyes softened as they took in her own. He didn’t want to look at her like that, didn’t want to give her gaze the chance to punch a crack in the dam he was already struggling to hold together. He didn’t want her to see into him, to even catch a glimpse of what was there. He didn’t like hiding it from her, but that was simply the way it was right now. Until this made more sense, until he knew where he stood and what he should think about all this, he wasn’t going to let all that filter into this moment. Sharon deserved better than that. She deserved that little grin of his, she deserved all the confidence in the world as his glass raised in her general direction. She deserved him looking strong and surefooted. She deserved him looking happy at her, which was surprisingly easy in spite of everything. Every and any world where Sharon was a part of it was better for it. It was so very easy to be happy about all this now that she was a part of his again. This wasn’t to stay she’d ever stopped, but it was decidedly different when the other person was alive. “Then we’re gonna drink to you.” Natalia did have a lot of talents and she was going to hear about this later. Oh, Natalia was definitely going to hear about this later. Now, she wasn’t convinced that Steve would have exactly hidden himself a few days, but there could have been a reason. Something could have kept him held up, especially if he’d thought this was some sort of Skrull plot or something. It did cross her mind that it was entirely possible he did. And there would have been no way that Natalia wouldn’t have been aware. If there was one thing about Talia that could be counted on come hell or high water it was that she had a knack for knowing everything. Steve himself had alluded to that and, as skilled as Sharon was, she’d never be one to deny the other woman had a way of acquiring knowledge in any setting that anyone should not only respect but buy a hell of a lot of stock in. “You get lectures.” She said, a quirky little smirk on her lips as she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Other people get speeches.” That much was true, Sharon had never been the sort to hold her tongue. She took pride in that. Actually, it was probably one of the reasons their relationship had worked until… It had worked because she’d never lied to him. Sharon didn’t lie to Steve - she might not give him every gritty little detail but she never held back. If she was going to do something dangerous? She wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for him and tell him she was just going to be hanging around a coffee shop doing surveillance. Oh that all hurt her chest to think about, there was a lingering tightness there that she was having a real problem reeling in. She didn’t want him to feel bad, no, she didn’t want him to see that but she knew that if one person was going to see through it, it was him. It was Steve. She was worried he already actually could. Add it to the list of feelings only he could cause. True fear of detection. Sure, in her line of work people seeing through you was always a healthy fear at some level, always a risk. But it wasn’t the same with him. Steve knew her. Steve knew her better than anyone. Where others might fall for just about anything she said, he knew the small little twitches that would pull at that left corner of her lip, the way she looked up and away and back, how her shoulders shifted when she was thinking something through… A movement she’d made that very moment with her shoulders and hadn’t even realized. She raised her glass, “You should be very glad I don’t have something to hit you with. What a terrible toast.” She joked, it felt weird to joke. She hadn’t joked in a long time - there wasn’t really time for such casual emotions when she’d felt like her world was crumbling around her and her friends were busy spending half their time shooting at each other. It was actually scary how easy it was to just fall back into normalcy with him. Too easy. It made her feel vulnerable when it crossed her mind again this could all be a joke, this could all be fake, this could all be a trick. The smirk continued to pull at her lips and she took a healthy sip of her liquor - it burned, she needed the burn. She was pleasantly surprised with how close to tasted to anything she might get back on Earth as well. There had, admittedly, been at least a little fear there that it might be something horrific tasting. Then again, apparently they had easy enough access to Earth through Cosmo. So perhaps she could get some actual whiskey more easily than expected. The Director wet her lips again, Sharon felt like she was staring at him in an almost over the top way - but it’d been months since she’d been closer than several yards away from him. The width of a street was as close as she’d been since he’d slammed the door to their apartment and she hadn’t seen him after that for quite awhile, except in surveillance photos. She was such an idiot. How could she have done all that, how could she have betrayed the man standing in front of her. How could she have sided with Tony over him. She’d told herself time and time again that it hadn’t been about who and it hadn’t even been about what it had been about something else. It had been about saving S.H.I.E.L.D. She’d told herself that so many times when she couldn’t sleep at night, when she sat across a table and listened to someone blather on about how to set up digital systems to track people, as she read reports on how many mutants were feeling the United States. Her eyes stayed trained on his face and she did something she didn’t even process that she’d done until she had, and even then she really didn’t quite put two and two together. She’d put her hand on his arm - her left hand had reached up and rested itself against his forearm.”Sit?” She said, motioning towards the small couch near the window with her glass. Everything about this scared Sharon, made her anxious, but she couldn’t just stand there. Maybe if they sat they could… talk… or something. “Don’t think I don’t remember. I’m just glad the only one I got this time was about being late, and it was pretty short.” The words left his mouth easily, in a soft but playful kind of tone, but they were a wrecking ball to his insides. There was nothing Steve didn’t remember about their relationship, about the way he and Sharon would clash sometimes for the best of reasons, or about how they wouldn’t always do their best to try and put the pieces back together together. It wasn’t always easy, but that was the way life was sometimes. You had to work hard for what you wanted, for what mattered, and what you believed in, Steve had been raised to believe that and had built the whole of himself upon that foundation. He’d spent his whole life, even before the serum, trying to do what he thought was right, what he thought mattered, and he’d paid a high price for it. Never once thought had it been something he questioned, and certainly not since Sharon had come into the picture. Every time there was a push, every time Steve had to plant his feet and say ‘’No, every time they fought and made up, or he shouted at Fury for the dangers he’d put that woman in the middle of, every time he...what mattered was what was there at the end. He fought for a better world for everyone. He fought to make sure people could have the lives they wanted, that they deserved just because he believed everyone deserved a chance at a good life, and he never once questioned it. At least not until he’d lost Sharon. Now, face to face with her for the first time in years, there was a deep, selfish, pang of guilt that rang out in his chest. Whatever this was, however this had happened, would it last? That was the big question. Was this another situation like Ian, or, and God above did this question crush him like a building, Rikki? Was this another example of another world, one that would give him a life and someone he loved, only to strip it away because he...but...but could he? He could. He would and he knew that, if it came to that it… Blue eyes caught the way her shoulders slumped and, amidst being very grateful that her back was to him and she couldn’t see the torrential storm of uncertainty in his gaze, there was another reflex to reach out to her. Something was on her mind and she was thinking about it as intently as Steve was his own thoughts. What could it have been? Had something happened? Obviously, with the title of Director, Steve knew there were going to be some discrepancies, moments where time or memories had been scrambled and…and that didn’t matter. Standing here, about to share a drink with her, was what mattered. That she was here, that he could see her and touch her, was what mattered. He wouldn’t say he didn’t care about the differences, about her story, about whatever life they might have shared, but he cared about them because they were hers not because they were a problem. So things were different..He was Steve Rogers, Captain America, he could adapt. He could do anything, and certainly for the woman who… He was getting ahead of himself. For all he knew they were never…And then she was just so damn Sharon. “As long as it was something soft, I don’t think I’d mind. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed it.” That was more honest than he meant to be, but it was easy to put that aside with a sip of the drink. Like the woman standing opposite him, it was better than he’d expected, smoother at the very least, though Steve wasn’t entirely sure he couldn’t have drank pure alcohol right now and found it tasted good. He was rattled, confused, and uncertain, even if he was actively working very hard to keep those things from showing on the outside. It was even something he managed to so very well. Right up until her hand slid onto his forearm. Immediately Steve’s large and muscled free hand slid on top of hers to try and hold her in place and his eyes flitted away from her at just how...how.. He’d forgot how warm she felt or how she smelled, and he was so sure those things were gone forever. And now they weren’t. “Wait.” He finally managed, his voice uncharacteristically hitched in a way that most of the world might have missed entirely, but probably not her. It paved the way for slight pivot and turn, so he could square himself off again facing her. It made his other hand move, trying to find real estate on the counter where he could set the glass down before fingers would curl and move to slip briefly through her hair… And that had been a mistake. Well, no. Not a mistake but it was just... Steve cleared his throat, shaking off the alien tones that he never should have let be there in the first place. He didn’t say anything he just..looked at her. He took a long, long moment to stare in silence, to look over her face for some sign that this was wrong. He wanted some clue, some hint this wasn’t even Sharon. Part of him even wanted her to look at him different, to scowl at him in a way she never had or to push him off, to throw that drink in his face and toss him out on his ass...to tell him that she’d just...moved on with her life or that there was nothing for him here… That would have hurt, but he could have handled it. It was almost easier than looking her in the face and not showing the wellspring of deep emotions that had long been buried in the ruins of his former life. That would have been something he could have swallowed with the last of that whiskey before figuring out what to do to keep himself busy while he was here. That would have been...but it didn’t happen. Instead, when his mouth opened, the words that came out were simple, short, and so sincere in a way that said a lot for a man who tended to be more forthright than most of the planet. Until he knew the facts about who this person actually was, he couldn’t dare say more than that. Say nothing about it though, right now, when she was so close, when he was touching her and she hadn’t vanished? Steve Rogers could stem the impossible tide. He could battle titans, Gods, and Celestials alike. He could raise his shield and brace against the crashing waves and hold back the sea itself if need be.. But what he couldn’t do was stop those words. “Sharon…” Even saying her name felt hard, and easy, and tangled and jumbled, and just.. “It’s really good to see you again. I’ve missed you.” He wouldn’t, couldn’t, bring himself to say why, but the sentiment needed to be brought out all the same. Just like he felt the absolute need to thread fingers that laid atop her own and squeeze softly before trying to move them both in the direction of the window seat she’d indicated once he’d collected his drink. Sharon couldn’t help but keep that smirk on her features, “Only one for now.” She said with a little amused huff. As much as Steve was faking it , so was she. It was so easy to lapse into that sort of behaviour, it was so easy to lapse into ease with him, but that didn’t quash the demon trying to claw its way out of some deep recess of her stomach. Sharon was really having a hard time keeping it together and she couldn’t believe it. She’d never been this weak, felt this fragile, not even really around him. Sure, Steve got to her in a way no one else did. In a way no one else could. But they’d, they’d shared too much. How she hadn’t known that first time they’d met, in retrospect, that he’d play such a big part in her life. Even when he’d helped her with Batroc (good luck getting her to admit he’d saved her ass, Sharon would gladly admit she was too fresh for that mission, too inexperienced, but she’d defend to her dying breath he hadn’t saved her and that the help had just been much appreciated). They’d always had something so natural about…. There was a very soft laugh that followed the statement. It was nothing more than an attempt to force her face to do something other than what it wanted. There was only so much she could hold back this tired, she was good and she was trained so well, but… Damn him. In the most affectionate way possible, damn him. Everything was too familiar, it actually probably would have been easier for her if it wasn’t. Why did whichever Steve this was have to be so much like himself. So much like… but that look. She’d never forget that look. Her laugh trailed off at that thought, but she was good enough to make it seem natural - thank God for that. She didn’t want her training, her experience, her life as an agent to come in handy when it came to Steve, not when it came to him… but right now she’d have to take it. She was too tired, she was too overwhelmed, she still wasn’t lying and that was what mattered the most. Relief was all she could feel for a brief moment when he responded to her little threat and it had been a very credible one. Sharon was a little bit too fond of very affectionate thwaps with objects when it came to Steve. It was the Dad jokes, it was all of the Dad jokes and that boyish smarm that he’d never outgrown and God did she hope he never outgrew it. But God was she terrified that if he did it had been her fault… that she’d somehow killed that in him by being such a… “Well, no pillows in reach. What a sad da…” She’d started to say the word ‘day’ when he’d put his hand on her’s. It stopped her from talking dead in her tracks. She hadn’t realized she’d reached her hand out, she hadn’t even realized she’d touched him because it was such an instinctual response to his presence, to him being in front of her that she’d just… she hadn’t consciously done it and… and now his hand was on her’s and... She didn’t know what she’d been expecting when she touched him - he’d either shove her off, remember he hated her or… or she hadn’t expected that. The familiar way he touched her hand, the memory triggered by the way it felt against her own. There was an unmistakeable look on her face, vulnerable. That was it pure and simple. Sharon looked up at him in a way that was a state of vulnerable that even he’d seen less than a handful of times. At least she managed to stop herself from gulping, at least she managed to stop herself from… And then his hand was in her hair and it was so much worse, she felt nauseous. She felt sick to her stomach because she didn’t feel like she deserved this moment. She hadn’t gotten to fix anything, she’d just appeared here and she’d been trying to and… then she was here and… The paperwork to cease S.H.I.E.L.D.’s protocols revolving around the 50 States Initiative was already signed and on her desk. The only reason no one had been served with it was Sharon was in no mood to blindside anyone. She’d called that meeting to make her position known and then…. Elevator. Now here. And the way… the way he said wait, the way… Sharon was dangerously close to breaking down, not because she was prone to that or not because she was weak she was just… Director Carter was exhausted and this was Steve. The way he was looking down at her pierced her in a way she hadn’t felt since… but that look had been so different. She could have never scowled at him, never, not for a second. She could have never looked at him with any anger, not right now. All she could do was look up at him with that vulnerability that she hadn’t so much. Sharon Carter would go to her grave to demand she wasn’t a vulnerable person, to demand that she wasn’t prone to such things. Even she had an Achilles’ Heel though… and it was decidedly Steve Rogers. If the way he’d said wait had had been too much, the way he said he’d missed her hit her so solidly in her chest she thought she might have been at risk of actually stumbling backwards, instead, she was left speechless. She couldn’t talk, but she probably didn’t need to, no one would have been able to read the look on her face like he would. No one would have been able to read the wordless reciprocation of that same feeling. Longing was an understatement. It almost made her shoulder hurt to think about, a very physical reminder of her mistake. Steve may have been able to speak, but she couldn’t. If she did she risked crumbling. The look was already too much, the look already gave so much away if she started to speak… She knew her voice would crack. She’d be soft spoken, quiet in a way that was so rare for her she could probably count the times she’d sounded like that if you gave her a minute. She could probably recount those moments like nothing else and most of them involved him. Damn him. She felt guilty again, it hit her in a wave as he pulled her towards the couch. Sharon sat herself down, taking another hefty sip from her glass as she did so - rolling her shoulder to resettle the light robe she had on in a more comfortable position, she didn’t pull her hand away though. Without any ability to admit it, she wasn’t able to make that move. Pulling her hand away from his felt… she didn’t know. She supposed… Well, it didn’t matter. |