[ If she's been more short than normal today, it's because she knows that Steve and the Commandos are due back any time now. It's been nearly a month since she's seen any of them, Phillips insisting that she stay at the large house they've turned into a makeshift officer's quarters. She's been assisting Howard and has been pushing for more missions that would take her even closer to the front lines, but she gets the distinct impression that Phillips thinks putting her anywhere near Captain America is asking for trouble.
It would be insulting if there isn't a part of her that thinks he may not be entirely wrong about that. There is never a lack of things to do in a war and yet she finds her mind more and more drawn towards the pin on the wall that indicates the Howling Commando's position.
She hears the whoops from outside and knows without a doubt that the heroes have arrived. She moves to the window and watches as the men jump out of the jeep, her eyes looking for Steve's broad shoulders. She moves across her room and opens the door, descending the stairs at a measured pace that doesn't in any way imply she's been waiting for him. ]
[steve has needed — time. it feels like the worst kind of indulgence when he's already taken so much, when years after no longer being frozen, he'd still been stuck. when years after the war had ended, he'd been unable to find another way of life.
but what do you do with something like this?
he has no idea where to start, and doesn't even have precedent to guide him, since he'd never known his own father. if he had to take a guess, though, he's probably doing a terrible job; it's all but confirmed when he gets this message. the guilt is familiar, settles in like stepping into a well-worn shoe, takes what's already been weighing on him for days and makes it crushing. no matter what the circumstances, different universes or anything else, this is his son, and he hasn't been there for him.
(in his mind's eye, he sees snow, sees fingers slip from railing, sees his best friend fall. that's his greatest failing; he's never there when it really counts.)
it's a good minute or so before, finally:]
I'm sorry. [weak, paltry, definitely not enough. so he adds:] I didn't mean to make you feel ignored.
( james is being cruel and he knows it, but steve's not the only one who doesn't know what to do. he never thought he'd meet his father, doesn't have any memory of him to draw upon for comparison, but he'd thought — something. that steve would be different, somehow, or maybe he would be. one of them would know what to do, and they'd slip into each others' lives naturally, like it was meant to be that way. they're father and son, after all. even across universes, that has to count for something.
but steve said nothing, and nothing, and nothing, and james realized that he was going to have to do something about himself. how do you approach the father who died before you could form memories? how do you approach captain america and try to build a relationship with the man whose legacy you're sure you're failing? james is the older between himself and sarah, but she's always been the leader, of the two of them. she's the one who uses the shield. she'd know how to deal with this, but she isn't here, and that absence aches as acutely as steve's inattention. james feels the lack of all the children he was raised with, but being separated from sarah is akin to losing a limb, leaving him feeling off balance, looking over his shoulder for her only to find she's nowhere to be found.
it's all festered and grown inside james over the week-long period it's been since he arrived in this universe, and by now he's not even hurt by steve's inattention, he's just angry. it's easier than dealing with anything else he's feeling. )
Were you even going to talk to me before Tony figured out a way to send me home, or were you just going to let him deal with your problems the same way you did when you died and left me and Sarah with him?
( at this point, it hardly matters that this steve is not james' real father, nor does it matter that he doesn't even know who sarah is — james is angry, and he's a teenager, and he's had all of this pent up for a long time. )
Edited (the grammar was gonna kill me) 2016-07-25 16:07 (UTC)
[the tone of the message is as much a mirror as james's appearance had been when he'd first laid eyes on him. steve recognizes something he knows all too well, something that's been a constant companion for so long he can barely remember life without it. when it's been anger versus loss, he's chosen anger almost every single time, punched his way to trying to find some kind of direction.
he deserves everything that james is throwing at him; in fact, he actually deserves a lot more. it stings, hits something raw and deep with palpable force, but he takes it. that's the least he can do to start making up for the things that aren't technically his fault, as well as the things that are; responsibility falls on the same place regardless.
it isn't much of a plan, but right now, it's the best he's got. (the questions — sarah? — are one thing that can wait.)]
There's no excuse for what I did, and you have every right to be angry with me. I should've been there for you.
[in this universe, and the other one, too — he should've been there, not repeated history. it's the most unforgivable thing he could ever do.]
( the acknowledgment takes a little of the wind out of james' sails — but only a little. he's still angry, and homesick, and he misses his sister and his companions and tony and the parents he never knew. this was supposed to be, if it had to be anything, a chance to connect with a man he'd never know in his own universe. now tony's working to send him home, and he's spent more time with the counterpart of his surrogate father than the man who should have raised him. )
Do you know how long I've wanted to meet you? To see what you and mom were like, to know what it was like to be part of a complete family? I tried so hard to remember the two of you so I could have something to tell Sarah, but I had nothing. I've tried to live up to your legacy my whole life, everyone looks at me to be a leader, and I just wanted to make you proud.
And now I'm here, and I can finally talk to you, and you haven't said one word to me. You're supposed to be my dad, and you won't even talk to me.
( by now, james has truly lost track of the fact that this isn't his own universe — he hasn't been sent back in time, he's been sent sideways, to a world that might have been, if conditions in his own weren't met. but this is steve rogers, and no matter what universe they're in, he's james' father. all the frustration that's built up over the years, all the abandonment and the sleepless nights crying over people he couldn't remember has caught up to him, and he doesn't want apologies anymore. )
Why? Why won't you talk to me, why did you leave me with Tony, why didn't you fight harder? Why was dying trying to do something impossible more important than staying alive for your kids?
[a long time ago, in a whole collection of back alleys and street corners and parking lots, he'd always chosen to take punches rather than abandon his ground. even when facing bullies two, three times his size, even when he'd been beaten black and blue and almost knocked unconscious, surrender had never been an option.
and even in a world where things are so much more complicated, it still shouldn't be.
i just wanted to make you proud — that'd been his own wish once, too, something, he can admit, that had driven him to continue to try to enlist, even as he'd faced nothing but rejection; something that he'd felt he'd finally achieved for the first time when he'd stepped onto the front lines. you're supposed to be my dad — why didn't you fight harder — staying alive for your kids — all the blows are dealt in rapid succession, and though each one somehow hits harder than the last, he takes them without flinching and without question.
in the aftermath, he stands back up; that's what he knows to do.]
I don't know what was on his mind, but if I had to guess, he was doing what he thought would protect you. What he thought was right.
[("for as long as i can remember, i just wanted to do what was right.")]
That doesn't mean that it was. [("i guess i'm not quite sure what that is anymore.". but:)] I can't change what happened, in your universe or in this one, but I can make different choices with the time that we have.
[time, he knows, is something he can no longer afford to squander.
[when steve calls and asks if he can meet her, sharon says yes.
she doesn't think to question why until later. natasha had already told her with one of those cheshire cat grins that steve had her number and that, possibly, if he could ever get his head out of his own ass, he might even call. steve and sharon aren't friends, but they are something more important: they're allies. they're both ex-SHIELD operatives, and they both fought HYDRA. sharon isn't arrogant enough to say they couldn't have stopped project insight without her, but she isn't self-effacing enough to deny the truth. she was there. she fought. she did her part.
she'd told her great-aunt about SHIELD's fate during one of her lucid stretches, and peggy had just sighed and closed her eyes. that's that, then. nothing's ever built to last forever.
sharon can't imagine living long enough to watch a part of her legacy come to a close. she's not sure she'd want to.
(you know i'm proud of you, right? she held her great-aunt's hand as she said it, unsure if she should've told peggy at all.
peggy just smiled. you always had a knack for taking the words right out of my mouth.)
sharon's perched at a tall table in the starbucks, hands wrapped around a steaming venti coffee (plain, no sugar, no cream); her seat is angled with her back to the wall, good sight lines to the entrance and windows. it means she notices steve as soon as he walks in. she resists the urge to get his attention, curious how long it'd take him to spot her.
[later, he'll tell nat that he called, and when he does, it won't be a lie. just like he hadn't lied when he'd said that, no, that hadn't been his first kiss since 1945. he's honest with those few he's managed to regard as friends in this century, even when trying to get this particular one off his back. she means well, he thinks, and he appreciates it, he does, but he needs some breathing room; he isn't above leaving select things out of the story to make that happen.
things like the real reason he'd scrolled through his contacts list and found the entry that'd been put in for him.
that, though, isn't the whole truth either. he could use a source in the CIA to help fill in some gaps in the file that nat couldn't, but also — he wants to apologize. wants to start over, maybe. she'd only been doing her job, and the way he'd acted toward her in the aftermath hadn't been fair, especially when she's only proven competent and loyal to the right thing in return.
he finds himself a little nervous when he calls, has half a mind that she'll turn him down again — but that'd been as kate the nurse, his former neighbor, and kate the nurse had never actually been real. it's a fact that he has to remind himself of a few times, up until the moment she agrees and he exhales his quiet relief, even up until the appointed time of the meeting.
it doesn't take him long to find her once he walks through the door; she's at the table he would've chosen, the one tucked in the corner with full view of everything else. strategic. a few minutes later, he makes his way over with his own coffee, and:]
Thanks for meeting me, [he says with a small smile as he slides into the chair across from her.]
["Retired" didn't mean "completely divorced from," as Clint had known when he stepped back from the team. At least once Nate was over two months old and slightly more self-sufficient than a teddy bear, there was rarely a month he didn't make the trip out for two or three days for... something. Team building, helping train, just talking to Nat and Wanda and the others. He was still the best marksman on (and possibly off) the planet, after all, there was still a lot he could do for the team. Not to mention stealing some of them away for babysitting time required some kind of repayment for the glitter in everyone's socks.]
[So he's at the compound one weekend in January, fairly late - not quite midnight but approaching that, and he's in the kitchen that always feels so clean and sterile to him but hey, he wasn't consulted on interior decoration or design. He'd almost feel a semi-professional insult was at work, but he's pretty sure Tony just got the same team that put his mansion and the Tower together to work on the compound, and they really seem to like wide expanses of glass and neutral colors. Boring, all of it. But it's not his home and it's not like he spends as much time there as pretty much everyone else does, so it doesn't matter. He's making coffee - because of course he is, he's him - and contemplating either making a bag of popcorn or mixing up some pancake batter when he hears steps coming from the hallway behind him, and he glances up over his shoulder to see who the newcomer is.] Hey, man.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It would be insulting if there isn't a part of her that thinks he may not be entirely wrong about that. There is never a lack of things to do in a war and yet she finds her mind more and more drawn towards the pin on the wall that indicates the Howling Commando's position.
She hears the whoops from outside and knows without a doubt that the heroes have arrived. She moves to the window and watches as the men jump out of the jeep, her eyes looking for Steve's broad shoulders. She moves across her room and opens the door, descending the stairs at a measured pace that doesn't in any way imply she's been waiting for him. ]
#lubeflix au family text
not the patriotic colors i would expect from you, captain
weeps
maybe he should've just stayed on that mission infinity years longer]
Not exactly what I meant when I asked for a sitrep.
;*
all is bitten on the western front?
no subject
That's not relevant to what I asked.
no subject
if you were hoping for sleeper agent ambushes instead, no dice
[ (those would probably be preferable.) HURRY HOME, CAP. don't you want to experience this trolling in person? :') ]
no subject
Thanks. Good to know.
[sincere? sarcastic? possibly both at the same time??]
no subject
no subject
Don't
[accidental send-pressing, because he's just that flustered]
say anything to anyone. Keep this between us. Ok?
no subject
it's in the vault, of course
you just weren't here for me to give you a thorough yet subtle eyeballing
surprise!!!
screams
but what do you do with something like this?
he has no idea where to start, and doesn't even have precedent to guide him, since he'd never known his own father. if he had to take a guess, though, he's probably doing a terrible job; it's all but confirmed when he gets this message. the guilt is familiar, settles in like stepping into a well-worn shoe, takes what's already been weighing on him for days and makes it crushing. no matter what the circumstances, different universes or anything else, this is his son, and he hasn't been there for him.
(in his mind's eye, he sees snow, sees fingers slip from railing, sees his best friend fall. that's his greatest failing; he's never there when it really counts.)
it's a good minute or so before, finally:]
I'm sorry. [weak, paltry, definitely not enough. so he adds:] I didn't mean to make you feel ignored.
[but it's still not enough.]
no subject
( james is being cruel and he knows it, but steve's not the only one who doesn't know what to do. he never thought he'd meet his father, doesn't have any memory of him to draw upon for comparison, but he'd thought — something. that steve would be different, somehow, or maybe he would be. one of them would know what to do, and they'd slip into each others' lives naturally, like it was meant to be that way. they're father and son, after all. even across universes, that has to count for something.
but steve said nothing, and nothing, and nothing, and james realized that he was going to have to do something about himself. how do you approach the father who died before you could form memories? how do you approach captain america and try to build a relationship with the man whose legacy you're sure you're failing? james is the older between himself and sarah, but she's always been the leader, of the two of them. she's the one who uses the shield. she'd know how to deal with this, but she isn't here, and that absence aches as acutely as steve's inattention. james feels the lack of all the children he was raised with, but being separated from sarah is akin to losing a limb, leaving him feeling off balance, looking over his shoulder for her only to find she's nowhere to be found.
it's all festered and grown inside james over the week-long period it's been since he arrived in this universe, and by now he's not even hurt by steve's inattention, he's just angry. it's easier than dealing with anything else he's feeling. )
Were you even going to talk to me before Tony figured out a way to send me home, or were you just going to let him deal with your problems the same way you did when you died and left me and Sarah with him?
( at this point, it hardly matters that this steve is not james' real father, nor does it matter that he doesn't even know who sarah is — james is angry, and he's a teenager, and he's had all of this pent up for a long time. )
no subject
he deserves everything that james is throwing at him; in fact, he actually deserves a lot more. it stings, hits something raw and deep with palpable force, but he takes it. that's the least he can do to start making up for the things that aren't technically his fault, as well as the things that are; responsibility falls on the same place regardless.
it isn't much of a plan, but right now, it's the best he's got. (the questions — sarah? — are one thing that can wait.)]
There's no excuse for what I did, and you have every right to be angry with me. I should've been there for you.
[in this universe, and the other one, too — he should've been there, not repeated history. it's the most unforgivable thing he could ever do.]
no subject
Do you know how long I've wanted to meet you? To see what you and mom were like, to know what it was like to be part of a complete family? I tried so hard to remember the two of you so I could have something to tell Sarah, but I had nothing. I've tried to live up to your legacy my whole life, everyone looks at me to be a leader, and I just wanted to make you proud.
And now I'm here, and I can finally talk to you, and you haven't said one word to me. You're supposed to be my dad, and you won't even talk to me.
( by now, james has truly lost track of the fact that this isn't his own universe — he hasn't been sent back in time, he's been sent sideways, to a world that might have been, if conditions in his own weren't met. but this is steve rogers, and no matter what universe they're in, he's james' father. all the frustration that's built up over the years, all the abandonment and the sleepless nights crying over people he couldn't remember has caught up to him, and he doesn't want apologies anymore. )
Why? Why won't you talk to me, why did you leave me with Tony, why didn't you fight harder? Why was dying trying to do something impossible more important than staying alive for your kids?
no subject
and even in a world where things are so much more complicated, it still shouldn't be.
i just wanted to make you proud — that'd been his own wish once, too, something, he can admit, that had driven him to continue to try to enlist, even as he'd faced nothing but rejection; something that he'd felt he'd finally achieved for the first time when he'd stepped onto the front lines. you're supposed to be my dad — why didn't you fight harder — staying alive for your kids — all the blows are dealt in rapid succession, and though each one somehow hits harder than the last, he takes them without flinching and without question.
in the aftermath, he stands back up; that's what he knows to do.]
I don't know what was on his mind, but if I had to guess, he was doing what he thought would protect you. What he thought was right.
[("for as long as i can remember, i just wanted to do what was right.")]
That doesn't mean that it was. [("i guess i'm not quite sure what that is anymore.". but:)] I can't change what happened, in your universe or in this one, but I can make different choices with the time that we have.
[time, he knows, is something he can no longer afford to squander.
there's a pause between messages, then:]
I want to, if you're willing to give me a chance.
no subject
she doesn't think to question why until later. natasha had already told her with one of those cheshire cat grins that steve had her number and that, possibly, if he could ever get his head out of his own ass, he might even call. steve and sharon aren't friends, but they are something more important: they're allies. they're both ex-SHIELD operatives, and they both fought HYDRA. sharon isn't arrogant enough to say they couldn't have stopped project insight without her, but she isn't self-effacing enough to deny the truth. she was there. she fought. she did her part.
she'd told her great-aunt about SHIELD's fate during one of her lucid stretches, and peggy had just sighed and closed her eyes. that's that, then. nothing's ever built to last forever.
sharon can't imagine living long enough to watch a part of her legacy come to a close. she's not sure she'd want to.
(you know i'm proud of you, right? she held her great-aunt's hand as she said it, unsure if she should've told peggy at all.
peggy just smiled. you always had a knack for taking the words right out of my mouth.)
sharon's perched at a tall table in the starbucks, hands wrapped around a steaming venti coffee (plain, no sugar, no cream); her seat is angled with her back to the wall, good sight lines to the entrance and windows. it means she notices steve as soon as he walks in. she resists the urge to get his attention, curious how long it'd take him to spot her.
birds of a feather, after all.]
no subject
things like the real reason he'd scrolled through his contacts list and found the entry that'd been put in for him.
that, though, isn't the whole truth either. he could use a source in the CIA to help fill in some gaps in the file that nat couldn't, but also — he wants to apologize. wants to start over, maybe. she'd only been doing her job, and the way he'd acted toward her in the aftermath hadn't been fair, especially when she's only proven competent and loyal to the right thing in return.
he finds himself a little nervous when he calls, has half a mind that she'll turn him down again — but that'd been as kate the nurse, his former neighbor, and kate the nurse had never actually been real. it's a fact that he has to remind himself of a few times, up until the moment she agrees and he exhales his quiet relief, even up until the appointed time of the meeting.
it doesn't take him long to find her once he walks through the door; she's at the table he would've chosen, the one tucked in the corner with full view of everything else. strategic. a few minutes later, he makes his way over with his own coffee, and:]
Thanks for meeting me, [he says with a small smile as he slides into the chair across from her.]
Because this has to happen
[So he's at the compound one weekend in January, fairly late - not quite midnight but approaching that, and he's in the kitchen that always feels so clean and sterile to him but hey, he wasn't consulted on interior decoration or design. He'd almost feel a semi-professional insult was at work, but he's pretty sure Tony just got the same team that put his mansion and the Tower together to work on the compound, and they really seem to like wide expanses of glass and neutral colors. Boring, all of it. But it's not his home and it's not like he spends as much time there as pretty much everyone else does, so it doesn't matter. He's making coffee - because of course he is, he's him - and contemplating either making a bag of popcorn or mixing up some pancake batter when he hears steps coming from the hallway behind him, and he glances up over his shoulder to see who the newcomer is.] Hey, man.