6902/The Framework: The Day After

The Framework: The Day After
Date of Scene:	12 July 2021
Location:	Melinda May's Office, The Playground
Synopsis:	Peggy and May catch up in May's office after they both get out of medical. However, the amount of feelings between them is still debilitating in its own ways.
Cast of Characters:	Melinda May, Peggy Carter

---

Melinda May has posed:
There is a small room that's not much bigger than an an arms locker tucked in between the gun range and the armory. It wasn't being used for very much when everything was first moved in. So, in light of her new position as STRIKE Commander, May quietly rearranged it into a private retreat where she could work on rebuilding the STRIKE roster without undue interruption.

Now, weeks later, less than 48 hours after their escape from the Sphere, it's turned into a retreat of a different kind. Oh, she's still using it to work on STRIKE business -- rosters, evaluations, mission assessments, and after action reports. But it's doubling quite handily as a place where most people forget to come look for her. Her quarters, they'll check. The hangar, the gym, even the range itself... These are all expected places to find her. But this little office that most people forget about? Not so much. Which makes it an ideal hiding place.

She is currently sat in an old bent wood chair that's straight out of the era in which the Playground was first built. Her feet are up on the brick wall beside her. She has a tablet in one hand and a stylus in the other. There's a tense frown on her face. Her expression suggests she's either deep in thought, or not overly happy with whatever she's reading.

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's taken a little bit of looking, Peggy starting many of the places she suspects she will find May (the gym, maybe her quarters) but, eventually, she stumbles upon that little make shift office which contains her friend. Peggy's been just about as stubborn as the STRIKE commander, checking herself out of constant supervision even if she's promised to go back for checks. Those red, faint lines of welts still dwell beneath her skin and she's not bothered to cover them with make up today. She looks half slept but as put together as can be expected. A fresh suit, pressed shirt, high heels. She is the Chief in charge again.

However, the look on her face is not one of a commander. It's softer, more worried, more understanding. For a Brit, she's as close to emotional as she gets. To those who don't know her she still seems reserved, but May knows better. "...May I come in?" She asks softly after knocking, sticking her head in the door without completely violating the woman's space.

Melinda May has posed:
May's had a shower -- that was a relief -- and changed her clothes. But she's in normal work wear for her. Black tank top, black trousers, heavy black boots. Her hair is tied back, which suggests she was probably in the gym or on the range earlier.

Despite the fact she's been trying to pull her emotional radar in as tightly as she possibly can, exhausted by its constant overload while she was trapped inside the Framework, she still senses Peggy's approach. Moments before the woman breeches the door, she closes her eyes and lets out a breath, trying to shore up those emotional walls that are so pitted and cracked right now.

All she really succeeds in doing is giving herself enough space to school her features into a calm, focussed expression many others would think is her usual default. And to them, it is. But Peggy has seen her friend open and relaxed. Not in a long time, it may feel like -- a lifetime, almost. But she knows better than most the depths Melinda May conceals behind that 'safe' exterior.

May gestures lightly in assent as Peggy sticks her head in and asks for entry. Her feet come down off the brick and she turns her chair a little bit away from the small desk she's shoved in against one wall. "Sorry there's not a better visitor's chair," she says. All she could find was one of those metal things so popular in the 40's and 50's... and even now in various military bases. Sturdy as hell, not completely uncomfortable, but hard as steel.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It's alright. God knows I bought most of the furniture in this place, I should suffer through it as well." Peggy admits with a rough little laugh, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She's also ignoring the chair for the moment. Short of May pulling away or pushing her back, Peggy's coming around to not just invade her space, but pull her into a tight, long, almost crushing sort of hug. It's not the sort of embrace Peggy gives often, but then she's not generally a hugger. It's the sort that matters. Something meant to speak a thousand words she doesn't know how to say right now. A mix of grief, understanding, forgiveness... She just tries to hold on tight. To help May push through that stiffness and maybe let the wall down just an inch.

Melinda May has posed:
The hug surprises May, who finds herself dragged to her feet by it. It shouldn't surprise her; she can feel the depths of Peggy's emotions. But, it does, nonetheless. She's been so sheltered behind her carefully constructed walls, desperately trying to keep away from everyone, that the normally reserved Brit's display of affection catches her entirely off guard.

So, yes. She does stiffen. And it's a very long moment before she begins to bend at all, before her hands finally settle on Peggy's back and she returns the hug. Not so tightly, perhaps, as Peggy's own, but enough that her body relaxes a little.

"I can't--" she gasps softly. "Peggy, it's too much..." Too many emotions, too strong, too much for her to handle like this. In an effort to keep glassy eyes from spilling, she inhales a deep breath and pants softly, fingers curled into tight fists.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"If you don't now... At least start, this is going to break through at the worst times. We're... fucked. We are all absolutely fucked. If you can't, then I can't... Then we just sit on this mess of... everything. I know there's parts of me that want to scream. Claw my skin off. Do anything to go back there, get those children... Back. And I didn't even work for HYDRA. I can't imagine how you are feeling but not feeling it... It helps no one." Peggy breathes out raggedly against May's throat, still holding onto that hug. She's trying to get the woman to dare ease into those tears. To let herself feel a scrap of anything.

It might not be Peggy's hug or words that do it, but as she dares to admit how hard it is to be back in her own skin, two tears escape free from her eyes. A silent streak of moisture down her cheek and into May's chin where she's pressed against the woman. She's not sobbing, but she can't hold back that bit of moisture. There is more grief where it came from.

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda's body begins to tremble as Peggy's grief swells and those tears escape to dampen her skin. It's not the trembling that comes with an easing into loss or sorrow. It's the tight vibration of grief transmuted into anger -- which for The Cavalry is the only way to maintain any sort of control.

"You don't understand," she says through gritted teeth, jaw tight. Her breath comes in ragged gasps between words, arms shaking against her friend's embrace. "I... felt... it all."

She starts pushing breath out between tight lips, drinking it in deeply and pushing it out in a manner akin to combat breathing. "The whole. Time."

Her eyes screw shut now, moisture on her lashes as she pushes her forehead against Peggy's collarbone. "You. Bobbi. Fitz. And then the others. Daniel. Daniel. Jemma. Daisy. I. Felt. Everyone. All. The time..."

Her voice cracks. "And it hasn't stopped."

But there is something Peggy says that finally breaks through. "I miss Lily..." she admits so, so very softly.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The embrace doesn't let go, especially as May begins to tremble a bit. Peggy's fingertips splay out against the woman's back and her other hand comes up through her hair, just trying to give her someqhere to lean as she bends her head to dive into Peggy's collarbone. This close, Peg smells like rose and vanilla, a mix of her perfume oil and the soap she loves. She, apparently, took a self affirming shower at some point recently as well. They are old fashioned scents, especially the way Peggy wears them, but she's an old fashioned woman. Her body is harder against May's now, not the softness of a woman who recently bore several children. But it's still those familiar arms and that soft hair. It's still Peggy.

"I swear... though it feels like a life time ago as much as it does last month... You were feeling things then too. That's how you knew something was off with Jemma, right? I don't know what's going on in your head but... this is more than spy training. And to feel everything in that fucked up place... Hell, Melinda, if I knew it wouldn't kill you, I'd be putting you on leave right now an sending you to a shrink because no one's brain can get through that in one piece." Then she hears that last confession. It's not what she expected, but it makes another wave of that quiet grief crash up in her throat again.

"...I do too."

Melinda May has posed:
"I was..." Melinda admits "I didn't know. Didn't understand." She's still stiff in that embrace, fighting for control and being inadvertently battered by the depth of Peggy's own grief. The love and forgiveness mixed in with it only add to Melinda's guilt.

"And then she made me Inhuman and I felt everyone else, too..." Jemma. The crystals. The game changed and the only way May could hang on most of the time was to cling to her anger.

That might explain why she screamed in such agony when she came out of that obsidian cocoon.

Now, however, she doesn't know how to let that go safely. She came through the transfer in the heightened state of rage from holding onto that rage staff until the last possible moment. While it's no longer controlling her actions, it has burnt pathways through her synapses, through her veins, through every fiber of her being. And it still burns.

"I just want to go back to work," she tells her friend. "I need to not feel everything. I need to be numb again." Like she was when she came out of the first cocoon in Nepal.

"You hurt too much," she says softly, breaking as she says it. "Daniel hurts too much. Fitz. Bobbi. Even Underwood is angry and confused. I hurt too much. I miss Lily because she was happy. She didn't know..." that her Aunt Mel was a monster or that the SHIELD agent whose memories and regrets formed the basis of the HYDRA agent's life can't help but conflate those not-hazy-enough memories of a VR simulation with the far too sharp memories of Bahrain and every other failure she thinks she's had since.

"I just want to find HYDRA and kill it. Kill them all before they turn this world into that one."

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's when May says that she hurts too much that Peggy forces herself back just a bit. She doesn't totally let go, but she's looking into the woman's eyes, her own glassy with tears and a little red. She's not bothered to stop the quiet grief from spilling from her eyes, but she's also not let herself fall into the wracking sobs that she probably needs before she can even start healing. "...should I walk away? I don't want... want to drown you with me. I just want you to know you AREN'T alone. This is... a fucking mess. I want nothing more than to hunt down ever last inch of HYDRA and claw them apart with my bare hands. And... and we will. Hell, so much of this happened because we were already getting too close. We're a danger to them, and we won't rest until it's all done."

Peggy forces herself to take a stablizing, slightly calming breath. She squeezes Melinda's shoulders instead of keeping her clutched in that hug. A bittersweet smile pulls at the corners of her mouth as she studies her friend's face. "And Lily saw you for *you*. Not for all the mess the world had put on you. She was... she was good at that. And in the end, even with all that shit, you took care of those girls. You helped us get Melly. You... you're good even when the whole damn world tells you to be awful. To be one of them. You're *not*. I think...there is some comfort there. Even if it was all one fucked up dream."

Melinda May has posed:
They will both likely need body-wracking sobs before healing will truly begin. May's not at that point, yet, either. She's still fighting far too hard for control. And though her eyes are wet and her sinuses swollen, her willingness to let go isn't there yet.

Even when Peggy releases that tight hold, stepping back just a little, it's not really enough space. May's powers are strongest with physical contact, after all. That said... there is something to be said for feeling the strong conviction behind her friend's words.

It gives her enough breath to shore up that crumbling sense of control. Her expression is bleak. "I killed him, Peggy," she says softly, more evenly than she could before. "No matter what he remembers or doesn't... I know I killed him."

She stands there with Peggy's hands on her shoulders, feeling everything the other woman feels, waiting for the pain and anger to wash over her. And for the forgiveness to evaporate. "He'd been to re-education too many times. The Doctor," not sweet Fitz, "wanted him. I knew he wanted him -- a time traveller and a man capable of resisting the worst the Faustus protocols to could do to him. Over and over again. So, I killed him. And he let me. Because it was mercy."

She shakes her head. "And if I were in that same situation again... I'd do it again. *That's* who I am, Peggy... Lily could never know that. But you... you *need* to know that."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Instead of the missing forgiveness and anger, May will just get a quiet stillness from Peggy. She knows her friend, here and there. Knows there is more to the story. Peggy's emotions are almost holding their breath until May can get through everything she needs to say. Then the explanation comes. Her watery smile returns, but instead of hatred, there is understanding. Perhaps even a hint of gratitude. None of the viciousness May thought would be there has come. Peggy is too old a spy not to understand.

"Melinda. I... I *do* know that, about you. I don't think I entirely understood it, but I knew you hurt him. I knew it was for his own good. I accepted that much. And if I were in the reverse situation? I think I'd have done it too. We're spies, Melinda. Old spies. We all have signed up for this knowing you probably don't get out alive. Daniel included. You... you made the right call with the information at hand. We just got lucky -- damn lucky -- it wasn't... real." Peggy's fingertips squeeze again gently against Melinda's shoulders. It's like that story has helped her get control of the worst of her emotions, though. It's a reminder of the dark, cold world they've all agreed to work within. It's a reminder, to Peggy, of the organization she now leads.

"I was...softer in that place. Let myself get soft. I can't afford that here and... I know it. You doing what had to be done let us get soft. You took on those burdens when I just ran from them." But now she is Chief again. There is no running.

Melinda May has posed:
"None of it was real," Melinda tells her friend, knowing that includes those children they both miss -- born and unborn. "I *know* it wasn't real. But I can't shake the feelings. Everyone's feelings, Peg. Not just my own."

She shakes her head, though she's clearly regaining a more calm control, now, the anger receding, sublimating, and settling deep down inside again. "I'm one big raw nerve and until I figure out how to turn this damned 'gift' off long enough to know what's my own grief and what's everyone else's, I don't trust myself unless I'm angry. Because when I'm angry, I'm in control. Getting sidelined won't change that. It will only make it worse."

She gives a dark, unhappy smile. "Hitting things is a much better outlet for me than a shrink. Ask Andrew."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A deeper smirk twists at her lips as May tells her to ask the woman's ex-husband about things. "I somehow think he'd disagree, but I'm not about to go telling on you to your ex. And I won't sideline you either. I know... work gets us through. But we should try to find someone who... has *some* experience in this. Can help you build walls or shields or... Something. You've been thrown into the deep end and it's no surprise that you're drowning. No one's taught you how to swim."

Peggy makes no more comment about the place not being real. About how much she misses those children. She's trying to swallow it back for her own sake as much as she is May's, but now there is a new set of guilt trickling into all those emotions. The guilt for making May feel what she's feeling. Knowing that she is leaking all over and she has no way to protect her friend from it.

Melinda May has posed:
May somehow expects Peggy to pull back. She senses the guilt and knows, in the past, it's driven Peggy away. There's a part of her that would welcome the peace. But another part of her needs the others around -- Peggy, Daniel, and all the rest... the family that is SHIELD. There's comfort in knowing their feelings overlap with hers, in understanding that she's not alone.

It's just that it's so much to sort through after so long spent drowning, out of control. "I need to find my knife," she says -- seemingly randomly. "I haven't seen it since we were extracted. But I need my knife."

She has carried a small dagger in her boot since about the same time Daniel arrived from the 50's. It's possible Peggy may not actually be aware of its importance to her. She glances to her friend. "Abcde enchanted it... somehow. It... mutes the outside emotions, gives me a little breathing room."

Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peggy feels guilt for her own emotions, she also isn't pulling away. Her hands remain on May's arms, her eyes to the woman's gaze. She's giving every inch of support she can even from a place of not understanding. At least May knows she's not alone. She gives the smallest squeeze of her fingertips, as if a part of her sensed just how much May needed her there. Maybe the projections are still happening? It's hard to say. But, stalwart and stern, Peggy is not leaving her friend's side.

"Your... knife? And you know it was with you when we went into the pods? They probably had it with all your other clothing when we were removed. Everything was covered with that... Gel. But I know McLaren and Collingwood. They wouldn't throw anything away. It's in evidence bags somewhere, but it's not gone. If you want, we can march down there right now and look for it?" At least it'll give them both something to do. For now, it seems drowning in emotions has been put on the back burner once more.

Melinda May has posed:
"We probably should," May admits. She doesn't like admitting it. It's like saying she needs a security blanket -- though maybe she does. But she knows the damned thing works.

And, right now, she's willing to wear it on a cord around her neck, against her skin, if it means just a small amount of peace. A notch or two lower on the volume.

She steps away from Peggy now to collect her tablet. She never actually leaves anything of value in this office, for some reason. Probably because it still feels like a storage closet.

"We went out, one day, shortly after Daniel arrived. Drove all the way out to this crossroads in the middle of nowhere on Long Island. I had to stand in a pothole and talk to... I don't know. Thin air." She shakes her head. "Magic makes no sense."

And, yes. She was desperate, at the time. It was the one other time when Peggy's emotions got the better of her -- but, again, not just Peggy. Everyone. They were all hurting then.

Have they ever really stopped?