6865/Coming to Grips

Coming to Grips
Date of Scene:	10 July 2021
Location:	Teddy's Bar, Brooklyn
Synopsis:	Cael Becker comes to Steve looking for some advice on how to help Bucky. Steve admits that where Bucky's involved, helping is sometimes more an act of faith than science.
Cast of Characters:	Steve Rogers, Cael Becker

---

Steve Rogers has posed:
In an ironic twist, Captain America had never been in Teddy's Bar prior to 2018.

Oh plenty of the Howling Commandos had; it was a favorite haunt of many of the veterans of the 107th, and the Great Lakes Defenders had made it a watering hole during their time in New York. By extension, it had become an unofficial watering hole for many of those heroes of yesteryear. News clippings of Captain America! punching out Nazis were stacked up next to pictures of the first Flash blurring through the camera lens and even rare photos of Owlman cleaning up crime in New York's docks.

It was a grand place for a drink and a hot meal in 1940, but an altogether different experience the first time Steve had returned there almost eighty years later as a living legend with the names and faces of his best friends plastered on the wall.

It's also one of the few places where Steve can beg some anonymity and not be bothered. The regulars know who he is, and give him his space if he needs it.

So he's waiting for Cael Becker to arrive; the agent had made a vague statement about 'needing a drink' and Steve pressed her if it was a general remark or a plea for help. Sure of the latter, he'd headed to the bar in jeans, plaid shirt, and a brown aviator jacket. One of the two-person corner tables was claimed, and Steve considerately claimed the tall chair that would put the other person's back to the wall. While waiting for Cael, he's very slowly nursing a good stout, and his smartphone's out in front of him exchanging texts with someone. The effort to reply on Steve's part is slow and laborious, but there's an unknowing smile on his face that suggests it's a labor of love for the soldier to be muddling through how to interpret the language of emojis.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael was grateful for the chance to sit down and unwind. Down time with people you keep getting thrown into danger with is //essential,// and she knows enough to know that. Besides, she's hopeful that some of the things she's been afraid to ask might actually get answered.
    The lack of questions was a considerate act on her part. She knew how it was - there are things you can't say, questions you can't answer without putting your work at risk. Asking questions that can't be answered just puts everyone in an awkward position. But not knowing what she was getting herself into? It was maddening, and a sign of her trust and loyalty to Bucky.
    As the agent enters the bar, she looks around curiously - taking in some of the displays of Cap's past deeds. Huh. "Interesting choice of locales," she remarks quietly. Was it an act of egotism? She hadn't gotten that impression of Cap. She ponders over that as she gets herself a pint of IPA - and carries it over to the table, offering a nod of greeting. "Steve," she remarks as she takes a seat. "Thanks for taking the time," she offers.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Cael." Steve smiles at the agent when she approaches, and half slides off his seat and invites Cael to take hers. Pulling a chair out for her might have been over the top, but the instinct for etiquette's clearly still there.

"One sec, lemme send a last text." He seats himself again and fires one last message off, then clearly puts his phone on mute and tucks it into his jacket pocket. A brief glimpse of the screen shows a laughing brunette in black and gold before the phone disappears.

"Bucky and I used to come here, back in the day," Steve explains. "No drinking ages in Brooklyn you know. Bucky was, uh, friendly with one of the dame-- the girls who worked here. Her dad owned the place." Steve looks around, taking in some of the sights. It's certainly not about Captain America, then; Steve's expression is a little wistful, lingering on pictures of friends long past.

"Anyway. Sounded like something was on your mind, so I figured someplace low key would be in order. Drink?" He uplifts his chin at a waitress to flag her down; there's a dark stout in front of him that's about a third empty.

Cael Becker has posed:
    //That// makes more sense. As Steve asks about drinks - she hefts her pint of beer, taking a sip with an amused smile on her lips. "I'll have another one of these in a bit," she adds towards the girl as she comes over, before returning her attention to Steve. "Is the bar still in the same family?" she asks curiously. That's a rarity now-adays. Hell, the fact that it's still even a bar is remarkable.
    After another sip she adds a dry, quiet voice, "Is something on my mind? All the shit we've been going through. Fish... people?" Yeah, Cap missed that one, "weird tech. Whatever happed with that cage fight, with the claw-lady that attacked Barnes. And how all those scientists just-" She doesn't finish the thought, instead she takes another drink from glass. "Hell, is all that just another day at the office for you guys? I've been trying not to ask - I don't want to put you guys in that position where you want to answer a question and can't, but..." She lets out a sigh before repeating, "Hell."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Yeah, that's ... I guess you'd call it nine-to-five stuff," Steve admits with a wry grin. It disappears after a beat and he looks at his drink, then takes a long sip. "It's probably a shock for someone used to civil operations," he concedes. "You work mob cases, mostly, right? OrgCrime? Those are--" he uplifts a chin vaguely in the direction of the docks. "There's a few interesting individuals from time to time, but most of them are just regular guys with nasty personal dispositions."

His head tilts slightly, eyes searching Cael's face. "If I can't answer a question, I'll tell you," he remarks. "And it's not because I don't trust you, but because the truth puts other people at risk. But if there's something you want to know about..." His free hand flexes, palm up on the table. "Just ask. You've earned some answers."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "We had one drug runner - turned into some sort of... demon thing? He started tearing the hearts out of some of his men. Hell of a thing, but we put him down," Cael remarks. "But yeah, that case... rather stood out from the crowd. Most of them are just //guys,// sometimes with some minor mutant power to back it up, but... Just guys."
    She lets out another sigh, taking another drink from her pint before adding, "And I know it ain't about trust. Things - secrets - are a lot more complicated than that. Especially when they come with that 'top secret' stamp."
    She's silent for a moment - but her first question is a simple one, "What was with all those guys? Did someone trigger some sort of implant? Or did they really willingly- I mean, //all// of them?" It was clear that lab filled with cherry red faces bothered her. It was clear at the time, as well.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve whistles tunelessly. "I guess that'd leave an impression," he concedes.

"But, uh... willingly's not a word I'd associate with HYDRA," Steve points out after thinking the question over. "It's hard to know where the line is. It wasn't an implant, though. HYDRA trains their top assets to protect secrets at all costs. I'm no psychologist, though," he cautions Cael. "If there's a line there between willingness and brainwashing, it's above my pay grade. I just know that HYDRA kills their people before letting them become prisoners. Cyanide, guns... they once directed an air strike on a bunker we were clearing just to make sure we couldn't take their people out of there. I would rather die than be tortured into betraying my friends," Steve admits. "But the idea of calling in an airstrike on my people -just in case- someone starts talking... I can't wrap my head around that kind of mentality."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Hell," Cael repeats - staring at Steve as he explains Hydra's usual M.O. "I mean - 'messed up' doesn't begin to cover it. I- I can't imagine working beside others that I didn't believe had my back. That wouldn't take every effort to get me out of there, and vice versa. Working beside someone I knew would shoot me in the head if I got taken?" She shakes her head. "//Why//?" she asks, keeping her voice low and tense. "Who signs up for something like that? And how is it they don't just... extinguish themselves in a blaze of self-destructive horror? If we go after them again, that's- that shit keeps happening?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve's hands open and spread, a gesture echoing that sense of helpless frustration. "If you figure it out, let me know," he says with a deep sadness. "We've been fighting them for eighty years now. It doesn't make any more sense today than it did back during the War."

Steve exhales heavily and looks out the window. All that bustling foot traffic; cars, trucks, the city of New York, endlessly alive.

"It was something Savage understood," Steve remarks after a moment. "I mean he -got- it, how to speak to people. Really reach down into their gut, grab what they love, and twist it to their ends. I only met him twice, y'know." Steve glances back at Cael. "Briefly. Once was an accident. Second time he slipped the noose of a trap we set. You could hear it in his voice. The way he spoke, he just..." Steve shakes his head, dumbfounded. "Old Adolph, he could get you angry, sure. He had a hell of a talent for those furious speeches. And Schmidt appealed to a man's vanity and pride. People who wanted to believe they were inherently better than everyone else."

"But I watched Savage turn good men-- moral men-- into becoming monsters. And every one of them believed they were doing humanity a -service-. Like genocide and eugenics cleansing were just..." His lips thin. "Necessary chores."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "That's the rub," Cael remarks in a sad voice. "No one truly believes they're evil. I mean, some are self-aware enough to realize they're //selfish//, but no one thinks they're evil. They have ways to justify it. It's for the good of humanity. It's for their family, or their people. Everyone else is profiting, everyone else is just as cruel and brutal - why should I play by any other rules?" She lets out a sigh. "I mean... I very nearly fell into that last trap, myself. But that's the way it is, the whole world over.
    "And if they are killing... they convince themselves that anyone outside of their own group aren't really people. Or at least aren't as deserving." She shakes her head as she adds, "But it's the way these guys go after their own that's just... wrong.
    "And they're the ones that had Barnes?" she asks, before another deep pull from her glass.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Yep." Steve purses his lips and nods wearily. "HYDRA was Schmidt's brainchild, and Schmidt idolized Savage and Hitler. That was-- you gotta understand, this is something that people to this day still don't really 'get'," Steve says, with a sudden emphasis. "Hitler was the enemy, but he wasn't /the/ enemy. His whole shtick was racism and righteous anger. The Germans got a bad deal after Versailles, and Hitler convinced them that they had a divine right to rule over Europe. The 'Aryan Entitlement'," Steve quips.

"But Savage was the one who held the Axis powers together with this... idea, that it's not just necessary to sacrifice people for a greater good. It's *moral* to do so. So they didn't see torturing and brainwashing Bucky as a bad thing. They saw it as a necessary step on the road towards eliminating anyone who opposed their mission."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Hitler was the face," Cael remarks. "Got all the publicity, had all the charisma. It's easy to pin all the blame on him." She's not going to even try to debate the finer points of the war with someone who was actually there. It's just not her area of expertise, anyways. She takes another drink from her glass, finishing it off, and catching the attention of one of the staff with a gesture so they know to bring her another.
    She seems to be taking her time formulating her next question, but finally she remarks, "Even I can see Barnes is struggling. I don't want to add to that, but for all he did to change the course of my life - I don't really know him. I don't really know his past - beyond what I was able to get out of a heavily redacted and classified file on the 'Winter Soldier' - and what's available online and in museums on 'Captain America's best friend.'" That's still not question. She pauses briefly before asking, "What do I need to know? I mean, I'd ask him myself, but- I feel like he's hanging by a thread. And I'm not sure how to help him when I feel like I'm in dark with nothing but a single match to light my way."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"I know your heart's in the right place, Becker," Steve reassures Cael earnestly. "I do. But you gotta realize there's some stuff that he won't talk about. Some stuff he -can't- talk about. I've known him since we were in shorts and there are still things that he can't share with me."

Steve looks at his stout, then drains it and sets the glass aside where a waitress can pick it up on her rounds. "We used to call your situation 'clearing a minefield with a hammer'," Steve tells Cael. "It's risky, slow, and not very efficient. Bucky's got-- you realize he spent almost four years on the front, right? He enlisted in '41, came back for a few months, and went back out in '43. He bit it in '45. And then what HYDRA did to him was so ... even the best psychologists we know are struggling to figure out how to help him."

"So if you think that it's somehow 'on you' to help Bucky, or that you're not doing enough because you can't dig him out of those foxholes he's still hiding in--" Steve smiles lopsidedly, trying to goad a laugh out of Cael. "Well, you're either way more egotistical than I had you pegged... or you're going to drive yourself right to the funny farm trying to do the impossible."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael holds up her hands in a sign of surrender. "I'm not gonna fix him," she admits readily. "I'm not crazy enough to believe something like that. I meant more..." She lowers her hands, and lets out a sigh. "I don't know. I want to understand better. I want to make sure I help, more than I hurt. I wanna be there for him. You know?" she asks.
    She shrugs her shoulders before adding, "So - if you've got any tips or insights you think might help with that - I'm all ears. But if it's not something you feel all that comfortable talking about, I get that too." She's silent for a moment before adding, "I mean, I think I screwed up some, just before we got into the truck to go to the Expo. Rather not do that again." She pauses a moment then adds, "I mean, I probably will, but as infrequently as possible would be nice."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"If I knew -how- to help Buck, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Steve concedes. "I know him better than anyone. At least, I like to think so. And I still screw it up. Sometimes he needs to be calmed down. Sometimes, trying to calm him down just makes it worse. I wish I could tell you I've got some ... secret trick, or something, but the truth is I just go off my gut with him. I know how to get him to laugh; that's sometimes the best I can do. And if he doesn't wanna laugh, he ain't gonna do it. In those cases where he's... locked in, the best you can do is let him know you're watching his back and try not to get in front of him."

Steve gets to his feet and pulls out his wallet, counting out enough to cover the drinks and a tip. "But that's easy for me to say because I know if push comes to shove, I can lay him out long enough for him to get his bearings again." The money's put on the table and Steve adjusts his jacket to settle on his shoulders. "You gonna be okay, Becker?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...that's fair," Cael admits in a wry tone. People aren't so simple as to be summed up in a few pro-tips, as much as she might wish otherwise. She let's a heavy sigh, staring at her glass for a moment, then back to Steve as he prepares to leave.
    "I'll manage," she answers simply, but honestly. "I mean - this shit's heavy, you know?" And she definitely has some disturbed sleep in store. "...but I've been through rougher patches than this." She manages a tight smile as she adds, "And you guys still got me at your back when you need me.
    "...but sooner or later, I want to learn how to fly that jet," she remarks. There's a flash of teasing amusement to her eyes, and to the quirk of her lips on that last bit, but also a hint of determination. She means it. The quinjet has her fascinated.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve grins at the determined remark, looking out the window, and then back at Cael. "Kid like you, flying a Quinjet? I'm surprised they even let you drive a car," he says, with mock surprise furrowed into his brows. The grin spreads a bit, though. "You want to fly a Quinjet, you should talk to Sam," Steve suggests. "SHIELD isn't big on loaning theirs out, and Tony would probably blow a gasket if he found out I was lending ours out for driving lessons. Get your pilot's license, get some ratings in place... then maybe we can work something out. Okay?"

He slaps the table lightly. "Thanks for the drink, Becker. I'll see you around," he promises her.

Cael Becker has posed:
    A //pilot's// license first? She lets out an exagerated sigh even though - yes. She must admit, that only made sense. "Fine. I'll talk to Sam, and get some piloting under my belt," she remarks. With all the free time she has these days. "And Cap - ...Steve, you //can// call me Cael, you know. If you feel like it."