You're given new life in Carolina

[paragon]

Who: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and Lydia Martin
Where: The Twoof household
When: March 9th
What: Visiting Lydia while she's convalescing.
Warnings: Probably none, will warn in subjects if necessary.
[Closed]

[ Natasha meets him downstairs for breakfast. It's not how he'd gotten used to seeing her in the mornings (and he thinks it's something he could've gotten used to fast regardless of mostly hazy recollections of a life together), but all things considered he'll take it. She catches him with a piece of toast in his mouth, leaning against the counter after coming in from his run, still mostly clothed in the winter appropriate gear he'd gone out in but his hair damp and askew from removing his baseball cap, ears tinged pink. True to form — or at least history — he's moved on from punching bags to hitting the pavement to clear his mind. But when she sits at the table he silently turns to get out a plate and drops the toast onto it before reaching for more plates, going to the fridge to pull out more bread, jam, eggs.

They make small talk that still feels important to Steve, so it's not really out of the blue when she mentions Lydia. He thinks he remembers her, too — red hair the same color as Natasha's, hunched over one of the long tables in Steve's classroom with a focused precision. Natasha doesn't say too much about her conversation with her the night before, but Steve can tell she's worried. It doesn't seem like the right time to bring up Caroline, so he doesn't and instead suggests she go visit today. Neither of them need to point out that Lydia's not really her cousin — they both know, but they're both also people who feel responsible anyway, even when maybe they shouldn't. Natasha doesn't ask him to come so much as tell him he doesn't have to; Steve knows an out when he sees one but doesn't need to give it more than a second's thought to know he won't take it.

They both shower and get dressed before meeting downstairs again. They bundle up (as well as either of them ever do) and head out the door, walking toward Main Street for Natasha to gather an impromptu care package before they head back the way they came, to the house Lydia's sharing with her friends. He lets Natasha approach the door first to ring the doorbell, crossing his own arms as he climbs the steps to stand behind her on the porch and wait for an answer. ]

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[banshe]

[ Even with her little impromptu escape from the hospital, Lydia isn't forced back since she'd apparently had been held against her will there in the first place (though a part of her still instinctively feels convinced that she'd been trying to escape somehow). She's told that resting up at home would probably be the best course for her ultimately, bound to get a speedier recovery surrounded by friends and family, so they say.

Though even now, she isn't sure what she's recovering from. Not exactly anyway, which really ends up being the answer to that very question. Her head, the banshee inside of her that kept wanting to scream, that kept wanting her to find things that she didn't want to see. She knew it was tearing up at her, or that it had been, and this was her time to try and heal from it, to become normal again. If that were possible at all.

Lydia's mostly confined to the couch these days, not trusting her mind to be trustworthy enough while she's out there, not for now. She even floats in a temporary confusion when she hears the ring of the doorbell, a fleeting fear coursing through her at the possible visitor until she remembers the call from the night before.

Jumping on her feet, she rushes to the door, opening it to quickly survey the guests. ] Nat. Steve. [ She looks at each of them, taking a moment to take in a deep breath before stepping forward and draping her arms around the redhead. Be surrounded by friends and family, they'd said.

And here was family. ]

[vdova]

[ The hug catches her off guard only for a moment. Natasha tenses for not even a half second before hugging her 'cousin' back, holding her close. Memory tells her they were never particularly close, but Natasha cared for her, like you do family. They might not actually be, but in speaking to Lydia, Natasha knows she has a duty. Something terrible happened to this girl, and Natasha knows about terrible things happening to girls. Related or not, she can't let it happen again.

She lets the hug go on for a moment longer, but it's chilly outside, and Lydia doesn't need to be standing in it. Natasha pulls away, resting a hand on Lydia's shoulder. ] Let's get you back inside. How are you feeling?

[paragon]

[ Few of Steve's memories of this place could be called clear, but he remembers people well enough, for a certain meaning of the word. It's the same with Lydia. When she opens the door he realizes he does know her, more than his previous impression from hearing her name, even if the details are lies. But she doesn't know that, not yet, and it's going to be up to Natasha to tell her anything. He wonders if that's just the memories talking — an inevitable sense of obligation to family that Steve's not really a part of, not even in their mutual memories of this place — or if it's simply that he doesn't think he has much room to make that choice when Natasha doesn't even know about Caroline. Probably both.

So Steve gives Lydia a small smile when she looks at him and follows as Natasha leads her inside, shutting the door behind them before any more of the cold can get in. He still hangs back slightly, listening for Lydia's answer. It doesn't really occur to him to step forward to greet her himself, even after Natasha pulls away. Until a few days ago it'd been a long time since he'd even been on the receiving end of casual familial affection, let alone been able to offer it. He wouldn't quite know where to start. ]

It's good to see you're up and about, [ he says, to append the question. ]

[banshe]

[ It isn't so surprising that Natasha had brought Steve with her, like the back piece to an earring, it had always felt like one would be too vulnerable without the other. Memories had slipped into more of a haze since her banshee attack, but from what she was able to immediately piece together, she had too many memories of the two side by the side, save for their individual lessons with her: art with Steve and self-defense with Natasha.

She nods when her cousin suggests getting inside, shuffling backwards with her hands sliding over her arms to give a gentle rub over her now chilled skin. She immediately thinks of the other day, of standing out in the freezing winds with nothing but a hospital gown and somehow the memory makes her colder. ]

Not dead. [ She gives a small shrug with an attempted smile, trying to lighten the situation. It comes with a playful tone, but in her head, the seriousness to that statement is most definitely there. ] Better. My head's been a little funny these days but — but things are getting more clear. [ She thinks so. At least with the memories. The gaps were still there but things were slowly becoming stitched up.

With a small gesture of her hand, she flicks her wrist to point towards the couch, offering seats for the pair. ] I could get some coffee started.

[vdova]

[ Natasha nods in response to her answer, taking note of the chill. At least the house is warm, and she glances at the couch, and then towards Steve. There's an unspoken line in that glance: do not tell Lydia we broke up. She's already been through a lot, and Natasha's certain trying to explain their actual relationship (none, she doesn't know this girl from Adam) wouldn't sit right.

Sometimes it's better to perpetuate the lie. ]

You sit. I can make the coffee.

[ That, at least, she's decent at. ] Black, right?

[ It's asked as Natasha makes her way towards the kitchen, tossing a glance over her shoulder at Steve as she says it. ]

[paragon]

I'm fine, thanks.

[ Steve's no good at faking it, so lately he's just been making the attempt to eliminate wholesale the feelings he's not proud of and that Natasha doesn't deserve for simply being honest with him. That doesn't mean they never show up despite his best efforts, and her glance — which he can read just fine and didn't particularly need, like he's been the one avoiding ever sitting on the same piece of furniture together — causes something stony in his expression that's unfortunately more likely to be telling than if he'd been left alone. His answer is honest, though, and the expression is brief and quickly softened by the memory of the coffee they'd shared before coming here, if it surprises her enough to make her glance back.

Either way, his focus turns to Lydia as he sits on the couch. He doesn't mistake her answer for anything but what it is; he's no stranger to humor that edges toward gallows. It's why the smile he gives her is actually something closer to what she'd been attempting. ] May not be able to say that once Nat finishes with the coffee. [ It's one thing, at least, that's true in his own memories, both the reliable and the less so: Natasha is a menace in the kitchen. ]