sixthiterationlogs | Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Fountain, Inn
WHEN: June 19 - 20
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None yet, but will update

[ Fountain ]

[ It's over. Right? It's definitely over. A letter has been sent, friends are rescued, some of the dust is settling. Steve can sit down and take one damn minute to catch a figurative breath. To get his head together, so he can figure out what to do next. Oh, there will be a next. There's always a next. He settles down on a bench in an otherwise empty hallway in Wakanda's palace, grateful for the lack of company. That won't last, of course. Someone will come to fetch him soon but, for now, solitude.

It's great. He hunches his shoulders, elbows braced on his knees and heaves a tired sigh.

Then, abruptly, there's a lot of water surrounding him and when the hell did he fall asleep? Where the hell did he fall asleep? For a moment, there's panic and sputtering, and then Steve's instincts take over. Kick down, swim up, head for what looks like the light. It seems a long way off, though, which means he has to keep reminding himself not to take a breath and risk drowning.

He surfaces in a fountain, throwing one arm over the edge, and takes a couple of seconds to just breath. Before completing the task of hauling himself out and rolling onto the ground in a heap. And stays there, too, for ... he's not sure how long, actually. A minute, maybe two. Maybe even three. Whatever. He takes stock without moving: wet clothing, wet boots, there's something lying against his back, but he's going to have to wait until the disorientation fades. The air doesn't smell stale or like medicine, so this probably isn't a medical facility. No giant tank of icy water and god knows what else, no artificial voice offering stilted reassurances while he endures a panic attack. No hint of the needles-and-pins sensation that comes with being defrosted.

Steve takes a shaky breath. The lack of a frozen, watery tomb is. Good. Very good. Eventually, sitting up seems like a good idea, so Steve follows that instinct too, shoving hair (and water) out of his eyes and peers down at the white, wet scrubs he's currently decked out in. The heck? Then he looks up and around, blinking in confusion. There's a .. little square with a fountain behind him, and a whole lot of bushes. And trees. But not the kind of trees found in Africa.

Which means this isn't Wakanda. Well, shit. ]

[ Inn ]

[ Later, when he's has had a little time to adjust to the idea of a brand new set of omniscient beings deciding to screw around with his life (protip: he hasn't actually adjusted yet), Steve decides to do a little scouting. Of the informational variety. There are also some sketchy plans to wander around and see what can be seen and learn the layout of the immediate area. Then learn the layout of the not-so-immediate area. Here's hoping he'll only be here a couple of days. There are people, back home, who are counting on him and Steve doesn't intend to let them down.

But first, something to eat. He chooses a seat near the wall, where he can see the exits and probably anyone trying to sneak up on him for nefarious purposes. Because people don't sneak around for non-nefarious purposes in his experience. He hunches his shoulders a little, to try and negate some of the space his body takes up, and starts watching other patrons. Best way to figure out local customs, also in his experience.

And locate someone who looks like a waiter. Or who can point him in the right direction. ]

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[She waits, patiently, because while she's used to seeing Steve Rogers pop up into her life again like the skinny brave soldier who turned up in her group out of nowhere. He, however, isn't quite as accustomed, which means that she's going to have to give it a moment, she suspects. Still, that moment can't last too long or she's going to make him feel uncomfortable.

Settling into the chair opposite him, she sits straight and as regal as possible, hands on the table like she's about to interview him rather than bask in the fact that he's here.

Despite the fact that he keeps vanishing on her, he always comes back, and perhaps that's a message or a sign that she shouldn't ever give up on Steve, because if anyone is more stubborn than her, it's the man sitting right across from her.]

Last time I checked, I'm Peggy, yes.

[It hurts, of course, to see him. It hurts only in that she's not sure how long she's going to get this time and she's not improved at saying goodbye.]

You know, a girl could be either happily impressed or insulted by that reaction. Which should I be choosing?

[ Steve shuts his mouth and sits across from her for a long time, at least two or three minutes, just staring. Trying to wrap his head around the fact that she's there, alive and well. Looking almost exactly like she had during the last raid on Schmidt's stronghold. He even replays it over in his head, matching her features now to the old reels he alone seems to remember.

Eventually, his mouth curls into a half-smile, like he's still not quite sure this is real, and his shoulders relax. It seems reality has made a strong argument in favor of believing. ]

If it were me, I'd be a little impressed. [ A pause, the other half of his mouth curving upward. ] And maybe insulted too.

I won't presume to tell a dame like you how to choose. But it's ... it's very good to see you, Peggy.

[She wonders how long she ought to wait before telling him the history of the others that have been here. It's always too short, honestly, and Peggy tends to find herself reeling from that. Several of those times, she's had Barnes at least, but she's not sure that she should talk about that either.]

I'm assuming since you're here and not currently trying to tear down the doors that someone's given you the briefing?

[She can, of course, but perhaps Steve is tending to the basics before he gathers information; getting food to keep his strength up. Her gaze slides over him and she drinks it in, given that she's so glad to see him too. She should say that, make sure he understands.]

You have no idea how happy I am to see you again. It's been far too long.

Yeah. Bucky found me after I got here. [ he makes a face, still very much not a fan of almost drowning again. ] Gave me a rundown on how ... well, how the village works.

[ Steve shifts on the seat, turning a little bit so he can face her more fully, and braces an arm against the table top. It's a habit left over from his days with the Commandos; being behind enemy lines so much meant they all had to be ready at a moment's notice. Not that he thinks Nazis are going to storm in.

Or at least they'd better not. ]

Yeah, it. It has been a long time. [ Since he's seen her like this, anyway. And maybe he'd better explain that, just in case she takes offense. It is a fact that he's never forgotten the time she shot at him. Shot at Howard's shield. ] You might not believe this, Peg, but. Where I come from, I haven't seen you for almost seventy years. Not ... as you are now.

[It seems that while Barnes had done a good job explaining the village, Peggy gets the delightful task of filling him in on his previous incarnations, which she's sure will be frustrating and strange to him, as much as it was to her.]

Actually, I know about that. When I first arrived here, it was with Sam Wilson, but soon after, you came here. Then again. I got the explanation from several people as to what happened.

[She ought to start ticking off Steve Rogers on her wall at this point, honestly. Peggy knows what happens to her, as well, though this is a topic she's not sure she wants to linger on for very long.]

I'm so sorry that we never found you, but you have to know that we looked for a very long time, Steve. Years, in fact.

[She'd only really convinced herself to stop when they'd nearly lost Howard to Fennhoff, but even then, he'd still gone and kept looking, which had resulted in Steve being saved.]

[ A little knot of pain settles in his chest. Peggy knows what happened to her? That's maybe the worst kind of knowledge he can think of, and Steve instinctively reaches out across the table for her hand. Funeral or no funeral, seventy years or no seventy years, he'd be a terrible friend if he didn't offer some sort of comfort. Or even try. ]

I'm sorry too, Peg. I'm sorry you had to look. I'm sorry I never showed up to the club.

[ Not that he could have, down and frozen in Schmidt's death plane, but still. Anyway, he has something worse to apologize for. Even if he'd do it all over again. ]

... I'm sorry I had to destroy your legacy. Yours and Howard's.

[Her jaw tightens slightly at the reminder of the Stork Club, because while it's been over a year, she had gone and sat there, waiting for someone that never came, watching happy couples. It had been a terrible thing to subject herself to, but sometimes she suspects herself a glutton for that sort of punishment.

When it comes to the rest, though, that's easier to bear.]

I hadn't yet started anything. I had the glimmers of an idea, but I was still just an agent at the SSR, so to know what happened is awful, but it's more awful to imagine an agency where Hydra retained their control.

It had to be done.

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore

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