And everybody was gone

[paragon]

Who: Steve Rogers
Where: Out and about, like the man said. Mostly around the residences, probably.
When: February 22nd, throughout the day.
What: See Steve's network post; now watch Steve plow your snow. Or just run into him somewhere out there. Please feel free to tag just there or just here or both as is your druthers; I just felt like doing a twofer.
Warnings: None to start out with, please include any warnings in subjects.
[Open to all/Closed to Natasha]

ota; i was just soakin' my head to unrattle my brain

[ Steve doesn't actually remember the ice, but as far as he can tell that's nothing new. He hit and his lights went out, and he may as well have died for all he remembers between then and waking up at SHIELD. He thinks if anything was gonna make him hate the cold it'd be living in Brooklyn during the Depression, but that, too, is what it is.

Memory's a funny thing, though, as he's learned well the past few weeks. It's sometimes just as much muscle memory as recall. Your life can be there in broad strokes, with the details coming in piecemeal as needed. Which isn't so different from how it always works. Steve's not sure he'll be able to tell exactly when he's got it all back; he'll probably just realize one day that he no longer gets stopped in his tracks by the things that do or don't come to mind.

He wonders if this is how it was for Bucky but doesn't know how to ask him that question.

So maybe the feeling in his gut when he looks out the window in the morning expecting to go out on his usual jog is due to not having heat in the middle of a New York winter or being frozen in the Arctic for nearly seventy years, or maybe it's simply thanks to having to change his plans. Either way it's a restless sensation, so he offers his services and changes into warmer clothes, gives Natasha a kiss and goes out through the garage so he can pick up the snow shovel before heading out. He'd gotten a few requests right away, so those sensibly still in their homes may see him heading from one job to another, or in the middle of clearing a driveway nearby. One woman even asked him to safely escort her older kids — still elementary school-aged, students of his he's still getting to know — to the nearest hilly slope for sledding so she could stay home with the baby. He's pretty much happy to oblige anyone today. ]

natasha; i'm so surprised you want to dance with me now

[ So, yeah, memories.

It's mostly been broad strokes up to now. The pieces he's gotten never tell the whole story. It's more like remembering parts of himself that the pieces eventually fit into — and sometimes they don't, until he remembers more. He's led an unusual life, that's for sure.

It's no different with Natasha. He knows what he feels. The details are trickier to pin down. He remembers being comforted by her, comforting her in turn. Being kissed by her on the cheek, the mouth. Fighting beside her and with her. It all speaks to an intimacy; he just doesn't know if it's the same one they've been sharing here. One real kiss, and even that— it's nothing like what he remembers of a life here, however vague and untrue. He thinks there should be more. If not everything, at least more.

But he'll give it more time. Wait for the details to fit what he knows in his gut and his chest. He doesn't know what else there is to do about it. Everyone's struggling with what's in (or isn't in) their own heads; he's not special. Mostly he tries to keep his mind and body occupied, with this place and with her. So maybe he doesn't mind the snow so much.

He'd cleared their own driveway first, so he comes back in through the garage, stomping and brushing off as much snow as he can, yanking off his boots on the top step before the door and leaving them in the garage before he goes in. In the hallway he shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it, looking around for her or Bucky or the kitten, who's just begun attempts to wander at will into various parts of the house unsupervised. ]

Comments

[royalpassport]

[ There's not a chance in hell Jefferson's staying inside. Funny, after three weeks of living like a recluse, the thing that finally gets him to leave the house is a message from the sheriff telling him that he shouldn't. Perhaps he's a madman (the memories of decapitation, an enormous prison filled with hats, a mad scientist who claimed to raise the dead, talking animals and tea parties certainly seem to point in that direction, especially when paired with other memories of a string of mental health problems), but there's only so much he can take when it comes to his intolerable living conditions.

So, he should've left a message with the man who offered to clear out the snow. But it seems Jefferson's too impatient for even that. Instead, he gets dressed up in his usual layers-- dress shirt, waistcoat, scarf-- and throws on a dark coat, gloves, and snow boots (a bit at odds with the rest of the outfit, but what does he care?) and trudges outside.

Of course, when coming up with this brilliant idea, he didn't really think on what he'd do after he set foot outside, in the snow. Which goes about halfway up his body, considering there's over three feet of it and he doesn't even break six feet, himself.

Which just means he's stuck at the doorway, kicking at the snow in frustration, when he sees Steve outside with his shovel, finishing up with a neighbor's driveway. He waves, trying to get the other man's attention. ]

Hey! I could use a hand.

[paragon]

[ For the briefest moment, after he lifts his eyes from the white encrusted driveway that's revealed itself underneath his shovel to look for the source of the shout, Steve wonders just what the hell Bucky thinks he's wearing and if maybe he ought to have been keeping a closer eye on him here. As if he's not already, as if he doesn't wonder daily what's going on in Bucky's head and would've caught anything out of the ordinary, like a sudden taste for fancy scarves.

But he realizes quickly that this is some other man, though the resemblance is still a little uncanny. It's not an altogether unfamiliar feeling, though, a mistake that for his own part he knows he's made before. Looking through a crowd and seeing someone who didn't want to be found — seeing what he wanted to see.

Only there's no one else out right now save for the two of them, and therefore no mistaking that the waving is for Steve's benefit, at least. ]

Whaddya need? [ He calls it out and bends over again to dig underneath the last few mounds of snow in his way. ]

[royalpassport]

[ If Jefferson finds anything unusual about Rogers's reaction, he doesn't show it. He just crosses his arms around his torso, almost as if he's bracing himself for either the cold or some other unpleasant thing, and forces an almost sheepish smile onto his face. ]

Ah-- well. I was hoping to go for a walk, but I underestimated how much snow there would be... [ There's a little, awkward pause, before he adds, as if to explain: ] I usually pay people to take care of this. [ That much he knows for certain, given how apprehensive it makes him to set foot outside. ] So... I could pay you?

[paragon]

Already out here, and that's not what I asked.

[ Dumping the last of the snow onto one of the supersoldier-made mounds to either side of the driveway, Steve begins to make his way over to Jefferson. He manages to make it look easy to trudge through three feet of snow in a few strides, and— well, if Jefferson comes out of the house any farther he'll see there are paths cleared along the street on both sides as far as the eye can see, small parallel valleys of snow and asphalt that even curve around the nearest bend in the road to the block beyond. Half the drives in the block have been shoveled, too, and it's been less than two hours since Steve offered his services. ]

Got anyplace in particular in mind?

[royalpassport]

[ He does work fast. Jefferson starts to venture out a little more, shutting the door behind him. It's impressive, how much has been cleared away already, and heartening. Jefferson has options now; he doesn't have to settle for whichever direction's least encumbered by snow. ]

Oh... [ The woods. That's where he'd like to go-- not these particular woods, but some other forest somewhere... ] Nowhere in particular. I thought I might wander around Main Street.

[ He fixes Steve with a curious look. ]

Was there someone else out here helping you? [ HOW CAN ONE MAN SHOVEL SO MUCH SNOW ALREADY? ]

[paragon]

Nope, [ Steve says, glancing back toward the same curve he'd already cleared, his gaze assessing before he looks at Jefferson again. ]

It's a little ways, but it shouldn't be a problem if you don't mind taking your time. [ He gives him a slightly wry smile at that, inviting him in on the joke. ] People are gonna need to get to the middle of town soon anyway.

[ He indicates the garage next to them with a tilt of his chin, where presumably live the tools for dealing with this sort of weather. ] If you've got a shovel you could give me a hand.

[royalpassport]

[ ...is he being drafted into shoveling now? Jefferson casts a quick, worried look at the door behind him, as if he's actually considering a retreat back into the house. Why is this happening? All he wanted was to go for a walk alone!

But. No. No, he hasn't been outside in days. He's not going to run back in and hide, not when he's finally taken this step. So he shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, and when he opens his mouth to start lying, it comes alarmingly easily to him. ]

Ah... I'm afraid don't. [ He actually manages to look chagrined at the admission. ] It's one of the many things Howard's broken recently.

[paragon]

[ The glance at the door has Steve unsure if he believes him, but he's not gonna call the man a liar to his face over something so inconsequential, not when he's the one who made the offer in the first place. He just says, ] Must be a strong guy, [ like he's got any room to talk, and doesn't pry further. ]

I can knock on the door when I'm done here, if you wanna wait where it's warm. [ He hefts the shovel into his hand from where he'd stuck it in the snow beside them, already turning halfway to give the driveway a glance. It's not any different than the dozen or so drives he's cleared already, though. ]