1773/One Step at a Time

One Step at a Time
Date of Scene:	21 May 2020
Location:	Athletics: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Dr. Fairchild is brought in to speak to Peggy Carter about her medical issues, and offers Captain Rogers a little comforting reassurance as well.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Caitlin Fairchild

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Peggy Carter has posed:
40 years ago, Peggy would have died if someone told her a light jog around the track would be enough to knock her flat half a day. She'd wonder who finally poisoned her or worse. But a lot has changed in that time, and she's been trying to push a little more each day. She managed one lap of jogging before cutting it down to a Very Serious Walk. It's the sort of walk she used to give across long corridors when she'd broken a code or had an important call coming in, the one that says she WANTS to be running but now isn't the time for running. Still, her cheeks are high with flush and she's breathless for it, but she's abandoned her cane in the corner with her bottle of water and she's still walking on her own. That's a good step.

She's in nothing but a pair of SHIELD sweats, the style barely having changed since she founded the organization, but they might be a bit more stylish nowadays. At least, a bit better fitting. Her dark curls are pulled back off her sweat sheened face and any hint of make up is now well and gone.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve must be the odd duck out in this particular corridor. He's not in any form of athletic gear, instead a deep-blue button-down and beige slacks: rather, he's got a manila folder beneath his arm and he's currently in conversation with a younger red-headed SHIELD member.

"...have to check the pulse oximeters now 'nd then due to the calibrations we do for the various members of the teams," he's explaining on his way to one of the side rooms dedicated to optimizing performance results in the active-duty groups. "Some of 'em can't handle the stress." He's wearing a lop-sided smile; he himself is responsible for breaking a few of the machines over the last few years.

Both pass by the broader double-doors dedicated to the indoor jogging track and he comes to a slow halt, recognizing one of the runners. "...you got a minute, Doctor Fairchild?" he asks, glancing to her again.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin follows Steve's eyeline to the indoor track, and then looks at Steve and nods quickly, twice. "It probably won't hurt anything for me to stop in and see her now rather than later," Caitlin tells Steve as he indicates Peggy. "At least before they spring me on her." The redhead adjusts the subtly tinted glasses resting on her nose, the rims large and fragile looking. A subtle tinting suggests they're to help reduce headaches from screen glare.

Another researcher in a lab coat hardly raises eyebrows; then again, there aren't a whole lot of consultants that come in who even Steve Rogers has to crane his neck at. The spectacularly red-haired woman is hunching her shoulders a bit to help offset the height difference, but even in sensible low flats there's not much to be done about it. A well-worn tote bag is slung over her left shoulder and she carries a couple of binders and a laptop in her hands.

When they come up on Peggy, Caitlin hangs back a half a step; she mouths a 'hi' at Peggy and wiggles fingers, clearly making her body language as unthreatening as possible while she waits for the introductions.

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's not really a jog, but dreaming of a jog, that Peggy is doing when she finally comes up on Steve and the unfamiliar Amazonian red head. The woman's smile and slight hanging back along with the waggled fingers get a slight arch of her brow. Peggy wasn't one to ever feel threatened by anyone, new doctor included, but there was no reason for Caitlin to know that. She slows her step, taking a few ragged breaths of someone who's trying to hide that she's out of breath but not entirely succeeding. She's still going to push through this.

"Steve. And... you can come over... Miss. I promise, I know you don't bite." It wasn't that Peggy read she was trying to be nice. Peg's such a good read of body language that she nailed, exactly, the doctor's attempts to be specifically unthreatening. Without a word being said. Old habits die hard. "Forgive the... state of me. Never pleasant to be seen at the gym."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Admittedly, Steve's ears are a little pink now. In his well-meaning idea of giving the two a chance to speak, he didn't take into account the fact of the running track itself and what it might entail.

"Peggy," he says by way of greeting, keeping the manila folder tucked tight to his ribs. It's not the old khaki uniform, but he hasn't shed the militant upright stature. This is shield in itself over his mild sheepishness in turn. "Didn't mean to interrupt, but thought I'd introduce you to one of our own. You might see her now and then. This is Doctor Caitlin Fairchild. Doctor Fairchild, Miss Peggy Carter."

There is a touch of quiet pride in his introduction, unhelped, just a twinkling.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"It was my fault," Caitlin says, sallying to Steve's rescue a little impulsively. She's not a good enough liar to make it convincing, but her face is earnest enough to be believable. "I wanted to take a second and check on you while you were exercising, it's always good to see how the body responds under physical stress. It's nice to meet you, Miss Carter," Caitlin says, and juggles her armload to offer a handshake to Peg.

An awkward pause is awkward, and then Cait startles. "Oh! I'm sorry," she gets out. "I should clarify, I'm a technical consultant," Caitlin tells Peggy. "I helped work on the team that designed the RNA therapy that Dr. Simmons and Mr. Fitz used. I'm here to see if there's anything I can do to help out, and also kind of, um, check their math and so on. Make sure you don't grow a third eye or extra arms." She laughs once.

"I mean, not that that's ever happened."

Caitlin clears her throat and her body language sways, hoping someone's going to come along and put the awkward moment down gently.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"No, no... somewhat appreciative of the... reason to break, in truth." Peggy admits, still catching her breath, which is embarrassing as hell but considering the progress she's made, understandable. She gives Steve the slightest of embarrassed smiles, the look in her eyes saying it won't always be like this, she won't be this weak. Probably only someone like him could catch it, but there is a part of her screaming beneath the surface.

The rest of her is a warm, winded smile. Up closer, she looks mostly in good health. Her hair is still a bit thinner and where those raw, almost radiation-like damage patches on her skin were present, they are now just the faint echoes of pink, newly healed skin. They'll be totally faded in a few weeks. Even most of the bruising is gone, though the close fitting sweats show she's definitely atrophied in compared to every picture in her file. She looks sharp around the edges, almost, when Peggy used to be all softer curves.

She offers her hand in Cait's direction, relaxing just a bit more as the woman explains exactly what kind of doctor she is. Any explanations or apologies she was starting over her state quickly fall away. Cait would know. "Dr. Fairchild. It's an honor. I... don't have any extra arms yet but promise to let you know if one starts sprouting. Over all, I'd say this... mess of a mixture worked out rather miraculalously. But I'll trust you and the team on that."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve does glance over at the red-headed scientist, surprised to see her step up as she does and attempt to save him from his own mis-step. He watches the introductions and ensuing conversation quietly, his gaze traveling between the two women.

The quip about a third eye or extra arms has him lifting his brows. He glances to Peggy in particular to gauge her reaction.

And so very mildly, as to attempt to break apart any further awkwardness, he adds, "Having a third eye is something Peggy's always had. Never could get away with anything around her."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin actually checks Peggy's forehead with a glance before she processes what Steve was implying.

"N-no, the honor's mine," Caitlin tells Peggy. She stumbles a little over the formal wording, but presses on. "You're a hero. A lot of women are where we are today 'cause of the trailblazing you did. I'm-- I'm just glad to see you up and around."

Stepping on her own proverbial foot, Caitlin manages to regain her aplomb. "Er, uh, anyway, you're probably feeling a little peaked still," she guesses of Peggy. Papers shift and she glances at a medical report inside a manila folder. "I mean, you're recovering very well," she says quickly. "I know it doesn't feel like that right now. A little hypoxic, maybe? Some headaches, seeing stars when your blood pressure goes up?" Caitlin waves a hand in front of her face demonstrably, then pivots a look to Steve. "Is there somewhere the three of us can sit down, Cap? If you don't mind Captain Rogers staying," Caitlin amends hastily, and looks to Peggy. "I've been on my feet all day, I could use a break too," she offers, quite diplomatically.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Steven Rogers... I didn't need a third eye to tell the moment you thought you'd done something untoward. In the rare instance you were up to trouble, you had it written all across your face. It was just a matter of if I was going to join you on that trouble or not." Peggy smirks at him, but the fondness in her dark eyes is painfully clear. Those were good memories, even if of an awful war.

The gentle amusement doesn't exactly stay, though, as she gets the slight feeling she is now being looked at like the grand science experiment, or fragile patient, she now is. She looks back to Caitlin, smile just slightly wavering as she does her best to keep the stubborn, energetic look still slotted in on her face. Even if Cait does well run down all the exhaustion symptoms and more. "...Ahh.. that's... Yes, perhaps, a bit, but you don't need to make excuses for me to... Sit. I'm well acquainted with the... frustrating realities of my recovery." In less British words: she's sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Sure, the pink lingers at his ears, but Steve almost faintly smirks. Barnes was always the better at getting away with anything, at least in front of people. "Never was a good liar," he demurs, again very mildly. He then turns and gestures towards a collection of benches off to the side of the track itself, set there for anyone to use for resting or stretching alike.

"Nothing wrong with a brief sit-down between laps. Do it myself from time to time." He does offer an arm out towards Peggy, just in case, entirely in a gentlemanly manner.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin dithers until Peggy and Steve are moving along, and falls into step a polite pace behind them. There's just not enough room for the three of them to walk anywhere abreast, so Caitlin falls in dutifully at the tail of the little formation.

Caitlin finds the sturdiest looking chair and hauls it over so she can sit. Even then, she braces one foot under her and makes sure her weight descends evenly across it. Only then does she sigh a little with relief.

"I guess I should clarify up front, I'm not a medical doctor," Caitlin tells Peggy. She unfolds a tablet in front of her and tucks her other bags behind the heel of her foot, like someoen accustomed to travelling via mass transit. "I'm a geneticist. The procedure Dr. Simmons came up with was... pretty wild," she admits. "She shot from the hip and it seems to have worked. I'm here to see what we can do to make sure it sticks. I might not even be needed, she's very smart," Caitlin hastens to add. "I'm just the one with the right combination of clearances and know-how. Also, I can get everything off the top shelves really easily," she says, venturing for some humor.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The offer of Steve's arm makes Peggy hesitate. It's a war between her pride and need -- not to mention the simple comfort of touching him. Eventually, a handful of heartbeats later, pride is eaten and she slips her fragile arm into his, leaning gently against the tall super soldier as they move back for the little sitting area. Peggy gives a small nod towards some of the back benches, "I left the cane and water there. Probably as good a place as any." She's using his sturdiness more than she'd ever say aloud, but the lean on him alone shows just how much trust is still there.

Once they are settled, Peggy shifting down in a motion which is both sore and relieved, she looks back to Caitlin with a touch more understanding behind her dark gaze. She gives the doctor a gently respectful nod. "I'd...like for it to stick as well, frankly. From what I remember of my old files and the original drug they gave me, I'm *in* this mess because a serum they thought was initially, wildly successful began to break down. Towards the end, the genetic degradation was... catastrophic. It was like I'd been in a radiation accident in a handful of days. I'm much rather ensure that doesn't happen again. So... whatever you need, you've got my full cooperation."

Steve Rogers has posed:
There's a small part of him mourning how fragile her weight is upon his arm. There's seeing the way the atrophy has taken from her and there's feeling it in action in how Steve has to carefully monitor his steps. An extra effort is given to making it seem that Peggy's not leaning overmuch; he knows how much it must be bruising her pride to accept the arm as it stands. Once she's settled, he too pulls over a chair and sits down as well. The manila file folder is set aside, some nonchalant and nondescript thing with no label.

To hear of precisely what happened...again, it falls under the category of harrowing. A divot forms deeply between his brows. Reading it did no justice, not when hearing it from the woman's mouth puts a painful humanity to the text. He looks to Caitlin, his expression as composed as he can manage it but for a light of hope.

No pressure, Doctor Fairchild.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin flexes her fingers to forestall more comments briefly. "Listen, I really can't make any promises," Caitlin tells Peggy, and includes Steve in the sweep of her candor. "Cellular genetic degredation is a real problem. CRISPr genetic therapy is still pretty novel, let alone trying to shotgun a solution by using multiple healthy donors at once."

"The government's been using the Infinity Formula for a lot of years, with pretty mixed results. It doesn't cause the hyperadrenal psychosis that we see with the Super-Soldier serum," she says, nodding at Steve, "so take that for what it's worth. But the first step is to try and stabilize your native genetic code, and get your stem cells producing original host DNA as soon as possible. That's what I'm going to talk to Dr. Simmons about at our meeting. Then we're going to look at some alternate supplementary genetic sources that might help rebuild the damaged components."

She smiles then, reassuringly. "For now, the important thing is to do what the doctor said: eat healthy, drink lots of water, and get exercise. You're coming out a long period in cryostasis on top of cellular decomposition. It's going to take a while for the new health cells to replace the old ones."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The director-emeritus knows that look in Steve's eyes. He's trying to keep composed, keep it all hidden, but she knows him too well. Peggy gives him the faintest of smiles, leaning over to press a gentle squeeze against the edge of his knee, no words to it, but she's still there. Frail, fighting every inch for recovery, but *there*. That squeeze is far more a reminder of her old self, even when things would get bad in the field. She had confidence.

Then she looks back to Caitlin, taking all the news with neutral, factual flatness to her eyes. She's not talking about her own body, in her mind. Just a file and a list of problems that needed solved. SHIELD was good at solving problems. She gives the other doctor a warmer, business like smile, "...Well, Doctor, I can't say that I understood *every* word, but I get the jist of the issues and...I'm just glad it's in you and Dr. Simmons hands. We bought time. SHIELD can fix anything with time. I'm... glad you're here. And to have properly met you." She's about to say more, but then the physical therapist she's been working with actually ducks his head in the room, searching for her. She looks guilty, like the kid caught goofing off on the playground.

"...but there is my current battleaxe. If you both excuse me, I have to go finish today's torture so he can mark it down in a file and give me a sticker." She's only half joking, her smile turning wry. She then leans over, grasping her cane and water bottle, "Vickers, I'm coming..." And she's off again, a bit faster for having had a few moments to sit.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Sure," Steve agrees, nodding to hear of the results of the different serums. He briefly gives Peggy another faint smile and then returns his attention to Doctor Fairchild, back straight and his hands still resting on his knees as if he'd shoot to his feet at any second for any reason.

With quiet earnesty, he addresses Caitlin directly. "Lemme know if I can be of any help." Of course the Captain offers this even as the physical therapist appears out of nowhere like the fun-sucking boogieman he is -- er, like he's doing his job. This is, of course, one of the physical therapist who's had to deal with both Rogers and Barnes over the years. A lift of his hand towards the PT in greeting.

"You show 'em what for." This for Peggy, quietly, as she departs. He watches her go, unable to keep his face from falling back into a solemn thoughtfulness. His chest rises and falls in a sigh as he looks over at Caitlin.

"What'd'you think, Doctor? Good prognosis?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin makes her farewells while Peggy leaves, then turns to regard Steve with a thoughtful expression. Her tablet and binders are carefully packed up while she mulls over how to respond.

"I'm glad to hear you offer. I might need stem cells or a bone marrow transplant."

And she's dead serious about it. "I'm still going through the research reports from Dr. Simmons, so it's too early for me to say. A worst-case scenario would be to completely kill off her bone marrow and start over with a new DNA source. I don't know how well that'll work on an adult person, it--" she breaks off, and winces. "I really shouldn't get too into it. It doesn't look good, but... it's not without hope," she says. After fretting her lip apologetically, she puts her hand on the table and offers Steve's hand a reassuring squeeze. "But we're very far from out of solutions, so... y'know. Where there's life, there's hope. Right?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Lemme know." And Steve is dead serious about his offer, jaw lightly set as he curtly nods.

He then listens to the doctor further expound, again his golden brows knitting. His lips thin when she pauses and then reaches out. A few more nods follows the squeeze. Again, another sigh, this one gusty now that he's out of sight and hearing of the patient in question.

"Always. What else can there be? Hope's gotten this agency through more'n a few set-backs and over a handful of speedbumps. Got more hope now, in this modern age, than if they'd uncovered her any earlier. Hate to call it luck, but...dunno if she'd be alive if they'd found her ten years ago."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Probably not," Caitlin agrees, quietly. "But good for us, it's not then. Genetics has come a long way." She fidgets for a second. "My, uh.... my daddy was part of the Weapon Plus projects," she says, voice low. Eyes flicker at Steve; that information's sensitive or classified, to the point she looks a little guilty about sharing it with him. "Stormwatch. Team Seven," she clarifies. "There are a lot of people who were affected by the Super-Soldier program. 's why I got into genetics," she says. "Kinda... makes me feel closer to him. And maybe I can use it to help Miss Carter."

She smiles wanly at Steve, then gets to her feet and starts bagging her books up. "Oh! Before I forget-- Father Pat has a favor," she says. Her tone shifts, trying to keep it light and casual. "The church youth camp up at Lake Woebegone is a little shorthanded. I told him I'd take a weekend to come up there and babysit. If you can get some time free, maybe you can drop by the parish offices and let him know....?" she ventures, hopefully.

Steve Rogers has posed:
There's a light of recognition in Steve's true-blues at the information granted for his safe-keeping. Very subtly, he nods, a promise of privacy about Caitlin's father and the work he did in the past.

As he collects up his file folder, he gives her a half-smile, just barely enough to dimple. "Pretty sure anything you're gonna do is going to help Miss Carter. Science is doing...amazing things these days," he says with a plain note of awe. Her request has him pausing, eyebrows lifted.

"Oh, sure, don't mind at all. You want me to tell him anything else while 'm in his office?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Nope; I'm sure he'd be glad to see you. He's got my number if it's an emergency," Caitlin tells Steve, and bundles everything to her chest and hugs it. "I've got to get up to labs and say hello to Dr. Simmons; been ages since I talked to her. It was good seeing you, Cap," she ventures, and smiles. "With Miss Carter's permission, I'll keep you up to date on how things are going."

Fingers wiggle a farewell, then she turns and heads towards one of the hallways.

A few seconds later she returns, going back the other direction. "Got turned around," she mutters at Steve, and shuffles quickly towards the elevators before she does anything else particularly foolish in front of Captain Rogers.