Figuring out how to carry. [For Sam Wilson]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Eight months in this world and she's still trying to adjust. Still trying to come to terms with the fact that she's all alone here, that when she helped save her world and stop an apocalyptic war from ever starting, she didn't get the reprieve of starting over the way everyone else had. No, she'd been picked up and dropped into this world that is like her own but so completely different. No mutants, no X-Men, no one who remembers the war that haunts her every moment of every day.

SHIELD picked her up shortly after her arrival, the portal not exactly unnoticeable to people who knew what to look for. They offered her help, a job, and she'd taken them up on one but not the other. She was still being watched by the organization, by a specific set of folks there, and she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that -- but the help they'd given her was appreciated nonetheless. (Not that she didn't wonder if they might want something later in return for that help.)

A made-up history and the credentials to back it up were the most useful part of the package. With them, she was able to find a job, rent an apartment, start a life... But there was help she needed that they couldn't give her. That fake history included a brief military career so she could have access to VA services - fighting in a war that didn't exist here didn't exactly get her through the door. But with that record she could walk through the door and take a seat among others who had been through similar experiences, who are still haunted by their memories. The only difference is that she has to be vague in any responses she gives, as few and far between as they are, but still. Even listening helps her to feel like she's not so alone, if only for a little while. ]

Comments

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[ Sam's no stranger to having to give vague responses, to having to select and modify the experiences he shares. It'd become a habit by the time he actually started leading these things - and by then the experiences he shared were more for other people than himself. Things he'd repeated often, opening up and putting himself out there first to show that it was okay, that they didn't have to be alone.

It was more about the way it affected him and the things he learned from it than the details. But still, there were times he wished he didn't have to hide so much. And he started being able to recognize it in other people - other special operatives, the ones on missions so classified they couldn't share details even to other vets. He gravitated to them sometimes, to let them know that they weren't alone either.

But he's not here to lead today. He's more of a guest speaker these days anyway, since admitting just how much time he was devoting to this whole superhero thing and officially becoming an Avenger, but he's not even doing that.

Today he just - needed something familiar. A reminder that there's a hell of a lot of ways to try to do a little good, that this place'll always be a part of his life.

There's more than a handful of people he doesn't recognize, but that doesn't bother him. There'd always been new faces even when he was here every day, and it's no surprise that there's even more now that he isn't. Sam talks with the ones he knows before things start, and purposefully sits among those who doesn't when it's time. He's quiet, listening to others share, watching the crowd out of his peripherals so he doesn't look like he's staring at any of them.

When there's a pause, for people to take a break or chat with their neighbors, Sam turns to the woman he'd sat next to, giving her a small smile. ]

How long you been coming here?

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ The new faces are as comforting as the old, all of them welcoming and looking for the same sense of solace she is. As the minutes tick by, a clock echoing in the silence that surrounds their little group between each person's story, she feels more and more at peace. It makes no sense, she's having to lie with every other sentence, there are a hundred things she can never tell anyone here, and yet... She finds that she belongs here, with these people, in a way she hasn't with anyone else in this world.

The break starts and Rogue considers getting up for a cup of coffee when her neighbor turns to her. He's someone she doesn't remember seeing before, or perhaps she had a long time ago when passing by in a hallway. There's something familiar there, but maybe it's just their shared experiences offering up that sense of kinship. ]

A few months. I started coming after moving to the city. What about you, sugar?