1572/Meet the Carter

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Meet the Carter
Date of Scene: 08 May 2020
Location: Recovery Room 01: Triskelion
Synopsis: Peggy wakes up. Peggy learns about Steve. Peggy sleeps.
Cast of Characters: Peggy Carter, Dane Whitman, Jane Foster




Peggy Carter has posed:
Recovery is going... well enough. Not stellar, Peggy isn't up doing jumping jacks and starting her morning cardio routine. But she's also not fading faster. The radation-damage like patches of raw skin on her body haven't increased. More hair hasn't fallen out. The bruising from the CPR Jemma did has faded to yellows and greens instead of awful purple, which is a good sign. Her vitals are stable. For all intents and purposes, it seems to have worked. She's not a miracle cure, but she's no longer dying and 4 days later that's a great sign. She is still sleeping a lot, her body gobbling up every inch of rest and recovery she can get, but she's been more responsive in the last 24 hours.

She still looks somehow frail in that bed. Maybe it's the effect of a hospital bed, gown, and too-sterile looking sheets, or the muscle mass she's lost over the course of it all. But her vitals are even and there is the strangest little smile on her lips as she sleeps.

Dane Whitman has posed:
There's still a process of scrubbing up and donning proper protective attire that's required to look in on Peggy, now more because of her weakened condition than concerns about the process (though those do linger). So Dane Whitman goes through said process and makes his way into the room. He's not a medical professional but he has picked up quickly on the things that might be required. So seeing Peggy asleep, his first inclination isn't to disturb her, but rather to try to put a fresh bag of saline solution into place on the IV stand next to her bed without rousing her. Non-medical professional or not he's one of the relative few that are read-in to Peggy's return so far, so he gets tapped for monitor duty. Not that he overmuch minds.

Jane Foster has posed:
"There's a million things I haven't done, but just you wait, just you wait," Jane sings in a fairly good voice, able to carry a tune as she brings in a pretty potted plant arrangement. No cut flowers here. Instead, the plant is one probably easily transplanted into a window box or a yard, assuming that Peggy even has such a thing. A pot in front of a window will do. Spiky stalks and pointed, wide leaves suggest it's one of the lily family, though probably not "of the valley" as a varietal. More likely an Oriental, a hybrid. A string of tiny flags wraps around the pot, and two of them stand crossed like a pair of dueling swords, Union Jack and Old Glory on stiff toothpick sticks. She sets it aside to be placed somewhere out of the way but adding a spark of green to a room otherwise designed by government mandate to be sterile. Isn't that the truth? Maybe it can sit in the observation window.

Being the child of a doctor isn't a guarantee of knowing the ins and outs of medical privileges, but being in the hospital substantially as a volunteer, visitor, and rarely a patient certainly helps with the protocols. Coat, booties, gloves, facemask: all of that is depressingly routine. Dane goes ahead of her, but she adds that plant in sight. No need to keep singing lyrics from /Hamilton/, but it's better than /The Pirates of Penzance/ or some awkward showtime. She looks over her shoulder as he handles the first moves around Peggy, smiling wearily. No one else has to know that little sliver of truth on display.

Next comes the swift review of any projected vitals. These she can manage well enough. "It looks like we're seeing some marginal improvements around blood sugar, that's stabilizing. The flotilla of tests they need to run should demonstrate she is leaving the danger zone. Still a way to go," she murmurs. "But it looks better. A lot better, at least from over here." Which means about nothing.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peggy's normal habit if she wakes up when people come in is to remain with eyes shut, gathering information about her company before actually giving herself away, most of the caretakers have caught on. Modern medical equipment makes playing asleep near impossible. So, she was genuinely, mostly asleep for the first part of Dane changing out her IV bag, but her trained paranoia brain can't remain that way for long. Especially not as another voice comes in. She gives the most quiet of little laughs at something only in her head, turning her head drowsily in her company's direction.

"Dr. Foster... Agent... Whitman, yes? I shall take the good news. It makes leaving that dream behind better." SHe drowsily opens dark eyes, easily focusing on them instead of the normal fight to actually force her mind awake. It's getting easier. That felt better too. "Your genetic therapies have strange side effects, I must say. I had the most vivid... Vivid dream about Steve Rogers. Things I haven't thought about in years."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Agent Whitman, that's right. Or just Dane if you prefer." Dane replies with a smile, though only the eyes are visible to show it. "Good morning, Director Carter." Not that she's currently Director, of course, but it's usually protocol to address someone by their highest rank achieved, right?

At the comment about dreaming of Steve Rogers, he laughs softly, "Well, maybe you can tell him about it the next time he comes to visit. How are you feeling otherwise this morning?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane briskly pushes away one of the motes of dust trying to cling to her white coat, and she looks no doubt like a feminine version of Dane: dark eyes, smaller stature, but wrapped up to the brink. Her melting cinnamon-brown eyes spark with curiosity and crinkle at the corners, while the mask over her nose and mouth is thoroughly filtering anything that might be a problem. "Welcome back, Director," she says. "And welcome home. I hope that you are having good dreams."

She casts a look over to Dane, and then gives a light roll of her shoulders. The air temperature might be cooler than she is used to. "That's right, Jane Foster. Delighted to meet you, ma'am. I trust everything is comfortable. Do you want me to shift any pillows for you, or are you settled well?" Hey, she can play nurse, at least, with the best of them.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Dane. Peggy is fine as well. I do not imagine my title is near in effect any longer." They've seen her at the absolute worst of herself and while a good friendship it does not make, it certainly makes people closer. The older woman gives the man a drowsy but earnest smile even as she dares shift forward and sit up just a bit straighter. Yes, sometimes even that was exhausting, but she wasn't going to lay there like a beached fish while she had company. Then Dane's words register. She blinks slowly, taking in the confirmation that wasn't a dream in any way. "...Oh. Not... a dream then. Well. That's..." She draws in a slow, steadying breath through her nose. "... good news."

The offer of shifting pillows from Jane is a good distraction. A way Peggy can actually show independence, "As kind as that is, Doctor, I am finding myself capable of conquering pillows, at least. I'll take what little wins I can get in this instance." She cracks a bit more of a wry smile, definitely fight and wit behind her eyes even if she's still fighting exhaustiong. A body rewriting genetic code and coming back from that sort of damage is hard! "A certain Agent May snuck me tea the other day and while I hope not to get her in trouble, I may kill a man for another cup soon."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"I think we might be able to arrange that without any homicide." Dane replies, chuckling a bit behind his mask, "Especially since I'm the nearest target at the moment." He speaks no more on Captain Rogers, astute enough to gather that may be a sensitive subject.

"If you're not careful, we might try getting you real food before long. You know, something that's not jell-o." Dane warns, that bit of humor still in his voice. He glances at a few of the monitors, "Blood pressure is on the low end of healthy ranges, but still in a healthy range, and improving day-by-day. Blood Oxygen is good. Looking like you might be able to advance to conquering physical therapy before much longer."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Especially given we managed to bring a plant in, tea is possible. Earl Grey, English breakfast, Irish breakfast, something a bit more exciting? I fear nudging a sampler in here might bring down the displeasure of the lead doctor," Jane confesses. She still suppresses a laugh, leaning in a little towards Dane. Good news is something she has enough empathy to sidestep around, leaving the star-spangled man-shaped hole free for someone else to discuss. Probably several days in a situation room, and then reintroduction after thirty years sleeping is ahead.

"I assure you, you can captivate those pillows or wrangle them into submission." She still has the splint on her wrist, the neat wrappings covered in sparkles approximating the stars while keeping her fingers from being any more damaged as the bruising goes down. It will be there at least another week, probably two. Not brandishing any demands, she chuckles softly. "You look very much on the mend. I have high hopes you will be sneaking out after tea and scones in no time at all. Avoid the crumpets, though, they are abysmal in the cafeteria." A wink as she warns Peggy of the perils, though her shoulders roll back. "I can imagine you'll want to log some time in the pool as part of the reconditioning process. I daresay you must want to get some fresh air sooner than later."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Sitting up was a lot. Having someone who is clearly modern, has been here since she first woke up, and has no reason to lie to her about Steve being alive? That is also a lot. Tea sounds lovely but sometimes she pushes too fast, having literally just woken up, and it hits her practically all at once. Peggy tries her best to be graceful about the fact that she wants to do nothing but close her eyes once more, but it's clear something has just taken all the fight out of her. "...that is all... excellent news. I look forward to parallel bars and... much cursing. And tea. But perhaps a touch more sleep, first... If you both excuse... me..." And she's out cold again. Still even just sitting up. Maybe her vitals are falling just a touch, or maybe it's simple exhaustion, but nothing overly concerning right now.