1963-11-08 - Did You See What I Saw?
Summary: Ava and Peggy wake up in the hospital and discuss just what happened.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
ava peggy 


Emergency services were already on the way by the time the man in the mask left the scene of the crime and his erstwhile victims on the pavement. It was a good thing for Ava that it took them a few more minutes to actually arrive on the scene. The trigger words he used - meant to compel obedience from someone who'd undergone all the proper conditioning - only triggered a debilitating rush of the memories belonging to the woman who would have been triggered by them. It took a solid two minutes for her to stop sparking, and even then she vomited onto the pavement for another two minutes.

The paramedics gathered up both of the women, rushing them to the hospital where the doctors saw to their wounds as well as they could. Ava, for all of her skills, was a mess. Her arm where she was grabbed bears a massive hand-shaped bruise, the bone underneath not yet broken, but spiderwebbed with fractures - enough for the doctors to put it in a sling to keep her from using it. They stitched up the deep slice in her calf from the glass, bandaged her cut hands. Her ribs where she took a punch to the gut are fractured too, though there's nothing more to do for them than wrap them. And otherwise? She's a mass of bruises. Her back is covered in them thanks to cars and walls, and her throat and one side of her face are likewise colorful.

She's been hovering near alertness for a few minutes now, her mind trying to protect her from what waits on awakening. But eventually, the painkillers wear off enough that her eyes flicker open, followed almost immediately by a groan and a curse in Russian. A string of Russian curses, actually.

*

For all of Peggy Carter's strength, determination, sheer stubborn authority, being choked out for almost a minute after a fight? It's not something she could fight through. She was unconscious when she finally hit the pavement and Bucky Barnes — the Winter Solider — dashed away. She was vaguely coming to when the medics finally got there, but a woman her age and pregnant? She was quickly being carted off to the hospital. It's only been her vaguely conscious determination and air of authority that got her and Ava in a private recovery room together. A few phone calls have made. Proper SHIELD guards are on their way. But, otherwise, they are momentarily alone…

Both hooked up to monitors, probably Peggy a few more than Ava considering her 'delicate' condition, the Director looks over to her younger associate and blinks quietly. The string of Russian curses are both reassuring and unnerving. Were things activated in Ava she did not know? She turns her entirely too sore head, mainly her neck, to look in the woman's direction. "Ava, dear…Please tell me something that lets me know you are yourself, or I am goig to have to get out of this bed and immoblize you further, which I do not wish to do. Talk to me. Are… are you yourself?" Peggy's voice is a touch sluggish, some pain killer in her, but they are careful with the baby. So, she's mostly sane and sober. And a little bit terrified

*

"Yes," Ava answers, voice a raw croak. She tries to roll toward Peggy's voice then winces, head falling back against the pillow again. "Yes, I am myself. Or most of myself. I think all of me is here." She peels her eyes open again, shifting enough to lift her blankets with the arm not in a sling. "Yes. All of me is here."

She takes a deep, careful breath, taking stock of the creaking ribs and the blossom of pain as the bruises in her back press more firmly against the mattress. "The words didn't work - I was never conditioned. I just…remembered everything that happened to the woman who was. It was not pleasant."

*

The first few words, not Russian, very much the stubborn young woman that Peggy knows Ava to be? Those are the brush of relief. The director's head sinks back into her pillow, achingly, but she releases a breath she was holding and takes a calming, deep breath in, relaxing a few of the monitors that had been on the edge of alarm at the adrenaline that was running through her system in response to the fact that she might have to take out the girl she's been trying to protect for so long.

"Glad…you are here. I…am sorry. I don't know what that was…" Peggy murmurs softly. But then she realizes she is wrong. Much of her knows exactly what that was. "Well, I mean…I suspect someone tried to kill me. You intervened. Thank you… Truly." She turns her head enough she can study the woman, trying to discern injuries before calling a doctor in. "…I'm glad the words didn't work. I'm sorry…they reached that part of you. No one should go through that."

*

"He was Red Room," Ava says quietly. "Or something close to it. The way he fought? The words?" She frowns, musing over all of it as she replays the events in her mind. "He was enhanced, though. Strength, certainly. Speed as well, I think. Something about his hand was off."

Analyzing it means she doesn't have to think about how much she hurts, or about what it means that they were found. She doesn't have to think about that sea of memories. "He was trying to get to you. Do you think they tracked me to you?" She sounds concerned about that. Whether it's the idea of leading someone to Peggy or just that someone was tracking her, though, is less certain.

*

"Metal…I think his hand was…Metal." Peggy didn't see enough to realize it was the whole arm, but she was observant enough to realize that much. It was a hint. A something. A slight shiver runs through her body at the memory of that hand against her throat and she tries to swallow back against damaged throat and vocal chords. It all hurts, but it's not so damaged she can't speak or function. She's gotten lucky. He could have collapsed her wind pipe.

"I…don't think it's you. I've been in the news enough. If someone wanted to get to… to the head of SHIELD, I am a clear… target." Peggy admits raspingly, though that thought alone is now calling in to doubt her position. How dangerous it was. What risk she placed her family in. Instinctively, one hand comes up to wrap around the roundness of her stomach. She'd taken no direct hits, but the trauma alone… She worriedly brushes fingertips against her side. "And… I knew him. Or, he knew me. I… I think we knew each other. Maybe I am going mad. Did you see his face… when I got the mask off?"

*

"Yes, I saw him," Ava says quietly, lips pressing together. "I could draw him." More carefully this time, she rolls to one side to better look at the other woman without having to turn. It at least gets her back off of the mattress, though it doesn't help the ribs much. "Who did you think he was?"

*

A slight shake is given of Peggy's head, but even that hurts, so she adds quietly, "I…don't want to tell you. I want you to draw him. Get…get with one of the sketch artists. I want confirmation before… before I say a name. Because I think it's someone I know and I…don't dare bias you." Peggy whispers quietly. However, the weight in her tone, the emotion behind it, it says that the person is someone big. Someone who matters far more than an errant trainee. Something that terrifies her, makes her sick.

*

"I'll draw him," Ava says quietly. She can still see him, clearly. Burned into her mind with the words he spoke, with what she thought for a moment might have been the last thing she would ever see. "I should have shot him," she grimaces then. Sometimes it's easier to analyze the fight than what it means. "But I saw him heading for you and I just…reacted. Also there are no bullets in the gun."

*

"Soon as I can get a sketch artist in here… do it. I… Need to see what you saw." Peggy whispers quietly, staring at the ceiling. There is something strange and distant about her, something off that Ava's never heard from the woman before, not in the decade plus they've interacted. Peggy takes another deep, slow breath, closing her eyes tighting and running a single hand up and down her side. "…I tried to shoot him. He took out all the guns. He was fast. Too…fast. Or maybe I'm getting slow. I… should… stay out of the field." She admits, though it breaks something in her to say that.

*

"At least for the next few months," Ava agrees. At least there's no judgment in her voice. To hear her speak, it's just a matter of practicality. "Not for you. For the baby. It's lucky he didn't throw you." Which is at least part of why she kept flinging herself at him. And getting flung back.

*

"…A few months. Yes." Peggy echoes quietly, because Ava is right. Daniel is right. Peggy's been trying to deny it but, after tonight, she can't any more. She just lays there, staring at the ceiling, trying to center her breath and her thoughts. There is nothing more she can do in these seconds. She gulps back a tight breath of air and sighs, "…I am sorry he… was so violent with you. No one should have to take a bullet or a hit for me. That… is not how things are set up." Even if she is director. And she SHOULD have body guards. Peggy has never been like that. It bothers her that things operate that way now.

*

Ava quirks a brow at that, frowning. "That is what we do." She shifts on the bed, leaning carefully closer. "That is- That is who we are, yes? SHIELD. The thing that guards everything else. That stands between to take the bullet, to take the hit. That you were the target changes nothing. I would have done the same if it was any woman on the street. He doesn't get to walk the street and kill people. Not while I'm here to stop it."

*

A quiet breath is given in return and a slight hiccup of a laugh. Agreeing. Tired. But Ava has got her on that one. Peggy reaches up her good hand, the other firmly splinted already and so stiff at her side. She rubs that hand across her face tiredly. "Yes… that is what we do. I am just not…accustomed to being that person. At least, not without being able to defend myself."

*

Ava nods once, rolling slowly onto her back once more. "Well. It is what, five more months out of your life? Six?" A faint smile tugs at one corner of her lips, a sidelong glance aimed at the director. "At your age, how long is that really?" Brat.

*

Peggy gives the woman a small glare, but there is a chuckle huffing at the back of her voice. "Brat." She echoes the thoughts, teasing and caring, all said in good heart. Then two SHIELD agents, ones not well known but loyal, duck into the room. The exchange between Peggy and them is brief but earnest as she demands a sketch artist be brought NOW. Right now. As soon as possible. She wants Ava to report while fresh, even if they are both drugged and Peggy might be a bit too insistent. Once that is done, she breathes out and looks back to the woman. "…Still want to be a SHIELD Agent?" She asks tiredly.

*

"You know, I fought an assassin to save your life," Ava laughs weakly. "I think that makes me a SHIELD agent." She looks to the new arrivals with a critical gaze. One might think she didn't trust them to protect the pair, but then again, that's how she always looks at people. And other agents, for that matter. Ava's standards are a little bit different. "Not a suit-wearing one, though."

*

"I… think you may be a touch more effective as a plain clothes agent. All things considered. We can make an exception for you." Peggy only half teases. She is good at recognizing people's assets, and Ava has certainly been an asset in the accidentially undercover department. Peggy then breathes out quietly, sinking back into her bed and letting her eyes clothes as she just rides on the light touch of pain meds and mostly uncomfortable pillow. "…I…need to call my husband. He is not going to be happy."

*

"I should call the PIs," Ava starts to say, then frowns. "But not until after the initial investigation. They may want to come to see me, and a room guarded by SHIELD agents would be not very good for cover." She shifts in the bed, a careful stretch that judges just how much she really hurts when she thinks about it. "Someone should feed Sasha cat." Of course she has a stray. "I'm sure your husband will understand," she says with all the certainty of a teenager. "You did not choose it, and you won."

*

"Remind him of that when he comes in here asking me why I can't just take it easy for once, yes? I did not plan for us to get into a life and death fight with a man who is supposed to be a ghost…" Well, there is something that has slipped, Peggy too tired to complete keep in her fears and worries about who the man they attack them was. Or perhaps it's just that jarring to be attacked by a dead man. She then arches a brow, "…Sasha…cat? You have a cat? Do you even have anywhere to LIVE?" She asks with a weak laugh, but it's worried. "You are staying with us. That's it. I…order it. Until you find a place. I…perhaps… Should have some back up anyway, at all times," Bodyguards, but Peggy doesn't want to call them that, "Considering he got away. I… don't care to think of it, but they may try again."

*

"I have a place to live," Ava replies archly. "And I don't have a cat, so much. Sort of. She stays with me, and I feed her." Little does Ava realize, this is all there is to having a cat. "But there's a bed, and there are showers, and it's out of the elements. I can't stay with you," she adds. "What if someone saw? They know who you are. The only cover for staying with you would be to say that I was trying to infiltrate SHIELD, and that's an extra layer of cover to worry about." She shifts uncomfortably, wincing. "Besides. When the doctors release us, I am going to visit the free clinic in Harlem. I think someone there has healing powers."

*

"Firstly? That is all there is to having a cat. She stays with you and you feed her. I think those are LITERALLY the only rules to cat ownership, Ava, so you have a bloody cat. Secondly, the Y is not actually a place to live. If that is what you are still discussing, then I am going to order that you come back with us until you find a proper apartment. THirdly, we will just be careful about being seen together. We are all the way out on Long Island. People don't trace us there. If you are good enough to stay hidden, and you SHOULD be good enough if you are an agent, you can get in and out without being seen. That is your challenge. Are you up for it, or not?" Peggy states rather stiffly, but yes, she is going to make this a straight up challenge to the woman's capabilities. Maybe that will be the one way to convince her.

*

"Or," Ava suggests, "I could stay with Barton. Or the PIs. It is an opportunity. Being injured makes me sympathetic and less suspicious, which means I can get closer." Challenge or no, the memory of the facility where she lived for five years after Russia, with nothing but a television and SHIELD agents for company is too strong for her to give in to the idea of moving in - even with the director on Long Island. "Besides, who would take care of Sasha cat? She is a city cat."

*

A slight grunt of disapproval escapes the Director's lips. She's rather accustomed to people just falling into line when she gives such orders, but Ava is even more stubborn than other agents. "…Once we are out of here, I am giving you two days to find another, more permanent arrangementm for you and your cat. If you do not, you will come back with us until it's settled. Is that understood? You have the money now. You will not live like some vagrant." Peggy mutters, protective and stubborn herself.

*

"Then I'll need a cover job, unless I can move in with someone," Ava wrinkles her nose. "I've lived like a vagrant because that is what I can afford, because I am eighteen years old, have no ID, hardly any education, and skills that are…not marketable in a normal market. So unless I have become a lady of the evening, then there is no reason for me to be able to afford these things."

*

"A delivery woman for the Wing Sing. It's a good restaurant, you need to go there most days. Cheng will vouch for you. Done." Peggy states flatly, as if it were really that easy. It probably is, in her drug added mind. She turns her head enough to study Ava and give her a long smile, perhaps on the edge of saying something else, but then the Agents come back. Sketch artist in tow. Apparently, when she says to get something done, it gets done. She nods towards them. "…Her. She saw the perpetrator. Get the best description you can."

*

Ava eyes Peggy, but she has no argument for that suggestion. She even speaks Mandarin. Foiled. Luckily, the sketch artist arrives. Even then she's contrary, reaching for the pad herself and holding out a hand for the pencil. "I can at least start the drawing," she says, bracing herself to carefully start to sit up. Stubborn. "I draw. Oksana was surprised when-" But she doesn't talk about that. Painful memories. "I can start it. I'll let you know what I can't get down."

*

The sketch artist looks a bit confused, eyes flickering back to Peggy because when the director was in the room, EVERYONE looked to Peggy. It was just habit. She was their commander, their loud, leading voice. She nods simply, "Let her. She knows what she saw." And then the man hands over his book and delicately sharpened pencil, made for detailed work. Peggy, for her part, tries to shift a bit more in her bed. She uses her good hand to prop herself up a touch straigher so she can somewhat see what Ava is working upon. The demons in her head tell her that what she saw should surely be a dream.

*

Ava bends over the sketch pad, pencil flying. In her little basement at the Y, there is a notebook full of sketches. Of places she dreamed. Of a particular face, again and again and again. It's not something she talks about, but she's a fair hand with a pencil. The outline comes first, just the shape of a face. Then the eyes. She remembers those eyes. Lips. A moment of hesitation there, where the words that came out of them loom large. Cheekbones are scarce, and then she slows down. This and the nose. Harder.

*

It's a little too far, the night time lighting of the hospital too dim, so Peggy can't entirely see the details of that face. Especially at this angle. But she swears from the outline she can make out it's the face she knows. Knew. The face of a dead man. She is half holding her breath as she waits for the woman to finish, her hand tightening against the sheets of the bed beside her. She forces herself to take in a slow, calming breath through her nose. "Just…let him know when you need help." She finally coaches, too eager to see the final out come. The artist stands by, waiting to be tapped in for anything, but it really does seem Ava has this in hand.

*

Ava does look up near the end, offering the pad over to the sketch artist for fine-tuning on the smaller portions. But the truth is, the likeness is already good enough to tell. It doesn't take long for her to nod her approval, turning the pad toward Peggy. "That's who I saw," she says quietly. "So who is he?"

*

As the final product is turned in Peggy's direction, it doesn't even take a second for her to recognize the face. It's who she expected to see, who she never thought possible. Her breath catches a moment, just entirely halting, as she takes in the implications of this all. She swallows back tightly, trying to organize her thoughts. Little shocks the woman, but if there was any color left on her cheeks, it's gone now. Finally, she realizes she was asked a question. She breathes again, shakily, and whispers. "…I knew that man as… as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Steve…. Everyone called him Bucky. And he died in 1944. Or so we thought. He…he was Steve's best friend. The only Howling Commando to die during the war…"

*

"Well, the good news for Steve is that he definitely isn't dead, I guess," Ava says quietly, carefully lying back down in her bed. "Also, he should be proud that his friend takes a hit much better than he does." Steve went down like a rock. Bucky did not go down at all. "Maybe he's angry everyone thought he died? He didn't look that old, though. Then again, neither does the Captain." She pauses, brows furrowing in a frown as she turns back to Peggy. "Did you do it again and not tell anyone?"

*

That last question gets a gentle shake of her head and a genuine furrow of her brow, "No…Not… Not that I know of, and I was quite involved in the project. Once Dr. Erskine was killed, we… We could never replicate his work. He was the true genius of it all." Peggy admits softly. And then a slight yawn takes her, the pressures of the day, the drugs, all of it was utterly exhausting. She reaches her good hand up to rub at her eyes once more. "…Well. WE have confirmation. We'll both have to file reports. In… in the morning. Tonight, I should call Daniel…"

*

"Well. Somebody figured something out." Ava lets out a breath at the talk of reports. Stupid work. But she nods all the same. "I'll call the PIs once we have a release date. Sasha cat will be all right for a night or two." Because she can't fathom being kept here longer than that. Nothing is actually broken, after all. "We will figure this out, director," she says quietly, stifling her own yawn.

*

Another, quiet breath, and Peggy nods, "Yes… we will. We are SHIELD, and we have certainly been through worst. What's an assassination attempt to routinely saving the world?" Peggy asks with a half wry smile, but there is something strained behind her eyes. This all hit a bit too close to home for comfort. She then is reaching to the side, for the phone between their beds. Fortunately their was one here. "…Get some rest, Ava. You did good work today…Damn fine work." Then, finally, she's dialing her home number. It'd wake their daughter, the phone ringing, but she couldn't leave her husband wondering any longer…

*

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