entranceway | video; guess who's back, back again

[ The feed snaps on, and the frame is on the crowded side. In the foreground Steve and Wanda are seated, arranged on a couch in one of the mansion’s tea rooms, while Natasha stands behind them, leaning against the wall near the door. Steve has his phone tilted so that all of three them are visible, Wanda’s arm linked with his.

Steve’s in civilian wear, his expression composed and collected. He isn’t here to give out orders or make any speeches, though. ]

So it looks like Wonderland sent all three of us home at once. Sorry about that. [ As if they had any control over it. ] But we’re back now and more or less in one piece. [ Which isn’t the full story at all, but that isn’t something that needs to be shared with all of Wonderland.

Natasha pushes away from the wall at this and moves closer into the frame of the video, leaning on the back of the couch over Steve’s shoulder, expression mild. ] I don’t know if any others of us were sent home recently, but if so, letting us know would be greatly appreciated.

[ Her lips quirk briefly. ] Either way, I think some of us will need to be assembling for a SitRep soon regardless. But we wanted to let you know we were back to keep people from worrying.

[ Steve glances over his shoulder at Natasha, nods, and then returns to looking at his phone. ] Let us know if we’re needed anywhere.

[ With that, the feed cuts. ]

[ They’ve done their duty and reported their return, which means that it’s time for all three of them to go and lick their wounds. Steve returns to his room first and foremost, finding Bucky even sooner than he had expected when it turns out he’d camped in his room.

Once they’ve reunited, though, Steve laces up his shoes and goes for a run up and down the beach, needing some time to clear his head. Everything that happened back home has him on edge, searching for a way to take action, to do something, and yet none of it means a thing here in Wonderland. There are no Accords here, but a secret that had been revealed in the worst possible way back home remains a secret here, and it’s eating at him.

He also heads up to the roof, as if hoping that a bird’s eye view of everything will somehow cause it all to make more sense. Wonderland isn’t where he’s supposed to be, but at least some of his team is here. They maybe be prisoners, but they’re not caged and collared. It’s something. ]

[ Once Natasha parted ways with Wanda and Steve, having had a chance to - finally - compare information, she briefly stopped by her room upstairs, checking to make sure everything she'd accumulated here was as she'd left it. Then, after replying to a few text messages that had been waiting for her, she headed to the fifth floor. And the bar.

Because damn, did she ever need a drink. Or twenty. ]

[ For most of the day following their return to Wonderland, Wanda remains out of sight. There's no trace of her in either of her usual haunts, the training room or the magic study: she shuts herself away in her room for the better part of the afternoon, door locked tight, though she'll likely answer for those who seek her out. It's been months since she's been this withdrawn-- longer, considering how much time had passed during her trip home, but she finds herself feeling very much like the Wanda who had first come to Wonderland one year earlier, skittish and wary of human contact, unnerved by the idea of having to explain exactly what had changed to rob her of the confidence she had spent so many months building alongside her teammates and new friends alike.

Eventually, it's one of the most basic of human needs that forces her to emerge, hunger driving her to leave her room behind and make her way down to the communal kitchen. After spending time in government custody, the need for a real meal as opposed to whatever the closets might be able to supply is enough to make her brave the mansion beyond her room. She keeps her focus narrow at first, rummaging through the pantry to see what it might have to offer in the way of ingredients, occasionally turning her attention to the kitchen at large to see who else might have wandered in since her own arrival, an attempt to remain aware of her surroundings. House arrest followed by more severe isolation has done very little to put her at ease, and she finds herself unwilling to trust even the slightest creak of the floorboards, regardless of the fact that here, the word fugitive means very, very little. ]

[ OOC: One or all of them will respond to any network replies. If you reply to any of the action options, please specify who it’s for! ]

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[ He manages fine on his own, and she rests a hand on his arm, query. Her world needs a Cap, of course, she doesn't know about his. ]

[ Quietly, ]

Did it make you happy?

[ His world probably needs some one too, which is what had made the decision so difficult. They'd cast him out, called him a criminal, and yet Steve isn't sure what will happen without him at the helm.

He isn't self-important enough to think that they can't get by without him. Someone else could take up the mantle.

There's a long pause, and he clasps his hands tight in his lap. ] It... wasn't that simple. The circumstances that made me give it up weren't good ones.

[ Natasha leans in. Gently, ]

That's not what I asked, Steve.

[ Gentle as she might be, Steve feels the pressure of what she's asking. He heaves out a sigh. ]

I don't know.

Okay.

[ It sounds more like that's enough. Poison in the body is removed by sucking it out. Natasha closes what little distance there is between them. ]

It was a bad situation. It could have been worse.

[ Her friend could be dead. ]

[ Steve leans too, and their arms press against each other, allowing them to share each other's warmth. It's not quite a hug, but it's some sense of closeness.

He nods, well aware of how else it could have played out. Bucky could have ended up dead -- or Tony, or him.

Quiet for a long while, Steve finally gets some words out of his dry mouth. ] I think I just need to not be Cap for a while. [ Maybe forever, but he can't quite bring himself to say that. ] I need to just be Steve. [ He probably isn't worthy of the title anymore, after what happened. Steve's not sure he ever really lived up to it, but he's tired of trying. ]

[ She's sitting up, still, a few loose strands of hair brush his temple. Soldiers do this: helmets together. It's the closest they get in combat. ]

I think that's all right.

[ She's not sure it's that easily separable for him. Steve doesn't do very well when the ground cracks open, he's not accustomed to liquidity. What this feels like is something clawing its way to the surface, desperate for air, unwilling to meet defeat. ]

You think Steve would like to tell me a little bit about Brooklyn?

[ It's only one person saying it, but all the same, hearing from someone that it's all right if he doesn't want to be Captain America for a while eases some of the weight on him.

More than that, Natasha knows when it's time to change the subject. Talking about home is always a double-edged sword. Nice as it might be to reminisce, it fills Steve with that hollow sense of yearning too. ]

Which version of Brooklyn?

[ He can already guess what she meant, but he'd rather clarify. ]

[ She shifts a little, next to him. ]

Before the war.

[ There's so much that Steve could say that he barely even knows where to start. He's silent for a while as he gathers his thoughts. Natasha doesn't seem to mind. ]

I remember watching as they built the Empire State Building. They were always looking to hire more people for it, strong young men who weren't afraid of heights, I guess. [ They'd never looked twice at Steve, even when he'd been desperate for work.

Another moment of silence, and he continues: ] I remember this sandwich shop around the corner from my apartment. It was cheap, and sometimes the butcher there would give me the meat leftover at the end of the day. I didn't really like taking scraps, but he said it'd be going in the garbage otherwise.

video; guess who's back, back again

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