Freelancer New York (freelancer_york) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-09-13 15:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | haloverse: canon: york |
Who: Steve Rogers and York
What: Steve offers to do some PT and pancakes with York
Where: A run around Knowhere
When:Backdated to after their conversation in July.
Rating: PG
Status: Log, complete.
There had never been any real argument Steve had needed to hear that some good exercise was often the best cure for an ailment. He’d spent many late nights, as a kid, a soldier, and a symbol, honing that behavior down to a science really. He knew some things you just couldn’t solve by staring at them. He knew the pitfalls of getting caught up too much in a pragmatic loop of reasoning. He’d been guilty of doing both of those things before and knew, all too well, what happened when you didn’t try and step outside of it (quite literally) to gain some perspective. Steve also knew how important routine and rituals could be to keeping going, especially in a place like Knowhere. Time was difficult enough to track here without a series of motions to keep you moving and, for some it seemed, that seemed to be more of a problem than not. York at least seemed to know space and, despite the strangeness that came along with it, seemed to be taking to Knowhere at least reasonably well. That was all well and good, but the bottom line was that Steve had offered, had said he’d come by. They were both soldiers, they understood what that meant. Just as much however, was the fact that Steve took great pride in being a man of his word and, now that the insanity finally seemed to be settling down for a moment, he thought this was the perfect opportunity to do just that. So it’d come to be that, once the two had made plans via the network, Steve took the time to plan a route and show up, bright and early, for a good morning run. He’d even promised one of his pancake breakfasts at the end of it -- because really that was just his way. He’d even dressed in plain civvies, had even left the shield at home. He wasn’t here as Cap, but instead as Steve. That was how he liked to be seen most. It was why he always told people he was just a kid from Brooklyn. He understood what a symbol was, but it was important too that people knew the man underneath. When he got to know someone, he always wanted it to be personal. It was why he always shook your hand, always gave genuine praise, and keep his word. He’d even be exactly on time, announcing himself with a clear and practiced knock. York seemed to be getting on well enough, as long as he was dealing with other soldiers, or at least other people who had fought. He wasn’t any good with civilians, he’d been so awkward with a girl that he’d met, he felt like he had to shower afterward. How was that possible? Why was it so easy with people he knew were just like him, and so difficult with people who gave him that look. That look that they gave you when you said you were a soldier. What was that look? Pity? Sorrow? Disgust? It depended on the person you were talking to-- and that was why York did his best to avoid it all together. He sometimes got that look even from other soldiers here in Knowhere. It wasn’t something he’d worried about back at home, they were all in the same boat, they’d all grown up the same way.. But here? Well. He’d learned just to keep his mouth shut about himself, it was much easier. He’d give his title, his rank, and be happy to mention he was a Spartan in the UNSC, but didn’t explain what that entailed. Whatever they were imagining was better than what would come out of York’s mouth. Of course, none of that applied to Captain America, who had been his hero since he’d been able to read. As the knock came, the Freelancer nearly jumped out of his skin, but he flashed Mouse a smile and headed for the door to tug it open and he got his first good and proper look at Captain America. Wow. They really did look alike. Minus the shorter crew-cut and scruff York sported, and the missing eye, of course. Oh, and the massive scar running along his cheek. He was also 6’4” in his boots, so it was particularly easy to tell the two of them apart, no one had any issues with it yet. And who would? It looked like Captain America, and Alternate Universe Captain America, who’d survived the Apocalypse. Or maybe a Halloween version? It didn’t matter, really, because while York was well aware of what he looked like, he really didn’t care. It wasn’t something that was particularly important to him. “Sir.” Came his immediate greeting, hoping the Captain would ignore the silly grin on his face. He felt like a child. Was this how children felt? It was wonderful. “Good morning.” Finally, an actual greeting. He’d had to think on that for a second, what a normal person would say when meeting someone. If the military had taught Steve anything, again, it was the importance of ritual. It was why, when the door opened and he was greeted by a ‘Sir’, Steve hardly flinched. It was also why he didn’t even seem to take notice of the look on York’s face. Sure, he saw it, but he had the practice at not showing that. It was important to Steve to seem approachable, like he was, in fact, just that kid from Brooklyn he always said he was. He also knew it was important not to make a big thing out of other people’s reaction to him. It tended to just make them feel awkward.That was the last thing he wanted to put anyone through really, especially just from meeting him. “Morning Soldier.” He returned the greeting with a chipper kind of warmth that was unique to Steve really. It was that jolly, old fashioned, gosh darn, and down home sort of feeling. “Hope I’m not stopping by too early?” He knew he wasn’t and, judging from the look of York, he was more than up to the task they’d set out to do this morning, but it was still just a courtesy to ask. “If you need a cup of coffee or anything before we get started, I’ve got the time.” Which was also his way of being, well, Steve, about things. He wanted York to know he’d blocked out the time, that he was spending it as a one-on-one, because he knew how easy it could be to feel lost at a time like this and Steve always had a soft spot for fellow servicemen. “And if you’ve been living on the space stuff, don’t worry, we’ll set you up right when the PT’s over.” He added. “Let me tell you, that Earth run for supplies is a pretty priceless thing up here. Don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get proper coffee or a good cheeseburger.” Because Steve, again, liked to make himself seem much more normal than the world tended to make him out to be. Yeah, he’d been in World War II, yes, he was kind a legend where he was from for, what some would argue, good reasons. Steve? Steve just wanted to be the kind of guy you could get a cold beer and a steak with, who really cared about what happened in your day. It was just the way he’d always been and, after enduring decades of eyerolling from his loved ones about it? Well, he wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.. “But if you’re up and ready, I figure we can get a good run in, show you a few spots I’ve learned to avoid and where’s good to get food if you’re in need, assuming you haven’t handled the basics of all that yourself already. I know how it is to want to get the lay a place as soon as your boots touch down.” “Truth be told, sir, I haven’t done much exploring. I’ve got the lay of the barracks down pat,” of course he did, “And the walk from here to the med bay is all stuck right here,” he tapped his temple, “And to the market for food.” Which he was fine with. Space food tasted awful, just like MREs, just like the space food he’d had growing up. So, you know, that was just fine with him. He’d had a few things that had been delicious, but he’d gone back to what he knew. It was the same reason he often found himself sleeping on the floor, or propped up against a wall. York had found it very hard to sleep here, so hard in fact that Delta had needed to put him out a few times so that he could get adequate sleep. It was too quiet. He was too far from other people. He was used to literally being shoulder-to-shoulder against someone while he slept.. And now? Now, the closest thing he had was an entire room away and he felt so incredibly alone. He felt like he was back on P11-118, in that bombed out apartment building, the only man on the entire moon. And that was a lot to take in for a human mind, being the only human being on an entire ball of rock, where a million people had once inhabited. It was just.. Gone. Rubble long since abandoned. The silence was deafening. But there York had been. Stuck there. The only other people on that moon were the corpses left in the street, long since decomposed, their tattered clothes and their tell-tale positions.. Laying on the ground, curled around children, holding one another. A group of people huddled close to a building. And on more than one occasion, York had sat down near those bodies, just to be near someone else. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have a pulse. Delta had been the only thing that held his mind together, until Tex had found him. And now he was here. Now that there were people? Well, he found it hard to adjust all over again. He wanted to hear breathing-- how weird was that? Just to know that the person near him wasn’t a corpse. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it? “But anything beyond that you could show me, sir, I’d be grateful.” A casual little running tour would be nice, the conversation would be nice. “I’ve thought about going on one of those Earth runs, but..” He rolled up his shoulders in a shrug and smiled over at the other man. York was always smiling, which looked a little strange on his war-torn face. He’d one been so handsome, as Steve was surely intimately aware. Not so much anymore. Not that it had ever mattered to York, it wasn’t like people saw his face often with his helmet on. “Well, I’m afraid it won’t be what I expect it to be, like I’ve made it out to be more than it is. That’s a lot of pressure, you know?” He was sure Captain America knew all about that. “Knowing your way around where you sleep and where to get patched up is important.” Steve chimed, his voice bordering on warm praise. “So it’s good you’ve got those down. We’ll add a few points of interest on the route today, how’s that?” There was a light pause there, with Steve rolling back on his heels some to make way so they could actually start walking before he continued. “And if you ever want to check out Earth? Well, this one isn’t exactly the same as the one I know back home, but I’d be happy to show you what I can.” It was a bona fide Captain America offer too. One that made Steve smirk for a moment. “Just be glad we wouldn’t be going to the one I’m from.” He set into an easy pace, having already plotted a route and guessing it would be easier on them both if he set an easy tone. “I’ve got to say, this one’s kind of nice, not having anyone know.” It might have seemed a strange thing to add but, to Steve, he wanted to distance himself somewhat from the mantle. He wasn’t dumb, he knew that was never completely possible. It’s why he presented himself so much the way he did. It was what the world needed and expected when it came to Captain America. It was solid. It was consistent. It was something you could bank on. Steve also knew however, how important it was to just be the man. A friend. Someone who could be trusted as a confidant and supporter. He enjoyed that part of the role too and found both parts to be pretty important. “So what do you think so far York? Of Knowhere I mean?” Steve let them pick up speed after the question had asked. He kept it where he knew most people could have handled it -- years of having very few running partners who could keep up with him had taught him how to gauge it. “I’ve got to say, I’ve been to a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but this place has a real sense of community -- kind of reminds me of New York -- back in my day anyway.” Because he knew the value of those well placed and, once again, expected little isms. Besides, part of him always loved the faces people tended to make. Steve may be surprised to find that York could match any pace he set. Not only could he match it, but he could maintain it. So as they picked up speed and that question was asked, York would flash a smile over at him and shrug his shoulders, arms lifting a bit in an ‘I dunno’ gesture. If nothing else, the Spartan was exceptionally animated, not only in his body language but also his facial expressions. It was strange, sometimes, how he could come off as so normal when he was anything but. However, like any good soldier, he’d adapted to what he needed to be a long time ago, and this was simply how he’d turned out. “It’s pretty great. Feels a lot like home, actually. No sun, weird gravity, dense population with nowhere to escape.” Like a little floating prison. Just like home. “Like New York, huh? I’ve heard a lot about New York, I’m not sure how much of it is true and how much is exaggerations grown over the years, but it sounded pretty great.” As they ran, York fell into a more comfortable, quicker pace. He had a certain cadence he usually ran at, unless he was running with Texas, then it always became some sort of race and by the end of it, they were both running as fast and as hard as they could. “But I second your sentiment, it’s pretty nice when no one can pick you out of a line-up. No one knowing who you are or what you’ve done. Or what you can do. No one thanking you constantly or building you up to be some sort of great hero,” he tilted his head some, a grin racing across his face, “or villain, depending on the day. It’s nice to just be another soldier.” He hadn’t said ‘person’, or ‘man’, York had never really considered himself to be either one of those things. He was a soldier, that was what defined him. He had been since before he could remember. Or, really, it was the first thing he could remember-- but a trauma like that would always stick in the brain. “Do you like baseball, sir?” The Spartan knew about it, he knew some teams, he knew some rivalries.. It was a dead sport, but it’d been so popular in the 21st century that it had certainly made it onto York’s radar, being as obsessed with the time period as he was. Like York, Steve found the pace easy to keep. He could out sprint most anyone he knew who wasn’t a God, Mutant, or didn’t have fancy tech to give them an edge. Now, Steve was never the ignoran type to think that meant anything. A lifetime of battle and tactics, of planning and engaging a multitude of enemies who had every conceivable edge against him (whether he knew it at first or not), had taught Steve the value in never assuming you had an edge on anyone. If nothing else it was his takeaway from his friendship with Logan. For a man as short, stout, angry, and ferocious as they came, Steve had seen him move with remarkable speed and finesse. So it was that Steve wasn’t surprised when York seemed to have no problem keeping up with him and actually took it as an opportunity to up the speed at which the two men were moving. He wasn’t trying to test York any more than he was trying to race him though. The simple fact was that, when Steve Rogers went out for a run, not many people could keep up. If he’d found himself someone who he could share that with, strange as it might have been to look across at a more grizzled version of himself while he did so, Steve wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth. He’d been raised better than that and, more than, he had every intention of enjoying this run to the best of his ability. “So that’s home?” It sounded like nowhere Steve would have chosen to be but, he supposed, the same could be said for Knowhere. New York, for that matter, was probably someplace a lot of people who were from this neck of the woods, would have probably chosen to avoid too. Home was what was familiar for many, even if Steve personally felt like that qualifier was woefully inadequate on the best of days. Even if he would have always wished anyone who wanted a home to have one, to have it be something more than just the four walls they knew but a place of refuge and relaxation; where one’s proverbial hat could be hung. It made his heart sink a little to think there were people out there who still didn’t have that, even if he hadn’t known them at all. “If you’ve got questions, I’d be happy to answer them.” Steve’s voice was even, unbroken by the physical exertion or the need for extra oxygen to get to his muscles. They were, by his tally, hardly even at the point where Steve would worry about breaking a sweat. “New York’s one of a kind, can’t beat if you ask me…” His voice trailed just slightly as Steve plotted a course for them around a pair of people walking with some kind of purpose. “Especially not Brooklyn, but I might be a little biased there.” He offered freely, turning a smile in York’s direction while quite enjoying the pace they’d set. “Seems to me, on a world like the ones we’ve got here, we can be a lot more than soldiers if we want to be.” It was Steve being, well, Steve. Regardless of how he saw himself, of what he understood his role and function to be in the world he was from, he always wanted more than that for others when it was an option. It’d been the same for Bucky and Natalia. It’d been the same for Logan even, as well as every last one of the next generation of people like him he’d met. Steve’s place might have been on the front lines, standing to the last as the man who would defend truth, liberty, love, and justice, but that was his place. It was a burden he often shouldered because he didn’t think anyone else should have to, impractical as that thinking often was. “Can’t deny that though.” Steve agreed. “Being able to just be, just breathe, without a world of expectations coming from the outside?” Because, again, Steve knew himself. He knew most of his ‘obligations’ were entirely self imposed. “It’s nice. Just sit down somewhere in France, have a cup of coffee…” Steve always espoused himself to be ‘Just another kid from Brooklyn’ but he knew the world didn’t see him that way. It was why he never turned away someone who looked up to him, or felt him worthy of praise. It was why he was always mindful of the image he presented to the world. It was why most days Sharon had to beat him over the head to remind him he didn’t have to always be the symbol. All that was cut away however at York’s next question, when Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do I like baseball? Son, if there’s one thing I live and breathe more than the stars and stripes, it’s a good game around the sandlot.” He smiled over at York. “You?” “Yeah, that’s home. Space. I spent a little time on a planet, but not much. I honestly wish I had more time with solid ground beneath my feet.” But he was thankful for what he had so he’d never complain. All the Spartans were soldiers, trained to accept. Well not all of them were so accepting anymore, they’d grown out of their blind trust. Truly, he’d never wanted to be anything but a soldier. He’d never known anything else, were Steve had a family, friends, gone to school, he’d chosen to join up. York hadn’t. He didn’t even remember a life without a uniform. He often times had difficulty picking clothes in the morning because he was so used to being told what to wear. But as the question came back around on him about baseball, he laughed a little and nodded. “For the snippets I’ve seen, it seems like a pretty great game. I’ve never actually seen a full game, but little videos that managed to get saved.” And it looked like fun to him. As they rounded a corner and picked up their speed, the conversation would turn to baseball fully as Steve explained it, but inevitably they’d end up running at a speed that was surprisingly fast, but comfortable for both men-- comfortable in a way that pushed them both pretty hard. Hard enough that by the time the finished, York would actually be breathing hard and smiling like an idiot. He’d found a running partner. |