tushanshu_logs

Peggy keeps her arms wound tight but comfortable, especially with the continued signs of distress. Everything she's saying is making Peggy think long and hard about the world Steph is from, the people she knows and associates with. What kind of environment lends itself to creating a thought process like that in someone like her?

"Well, they're wrong." She says it with absolute finality, and maybe a little anger. Because Stephanie Brown is not a fuck up. "As humans, we all make mistakes, but that doesn't make us - it doesn't make you - a terrible person."

She gives Steph's shoulder a squeeze. "If they don't listen to you, it's their loss, and whatever happens in the future will be their own fault."

The anger surprises her a little, and reminds her of how Steve talked to her after she told him about what happened. But it still sits heavily with her, and she can't help remembering how guilty she'd felt all over again. For what she'd done.

"Tell that to the people I got killed," It's quiet, resigned, like this is a weight that's never going to leave her shoulders. No matter what she does, not matter who tells her it wasn't her fault, the names of everyone who died in the gang war are going to stay with her for the rest of her life.

Her face falls. She doesn't and won't try to admonish guilt, because Peggy knows it won't do any good. She's grappled with similar feelings herself, over accidental casualties and assassinations alike. It's a personal struggle, and there's very little she can do to appease it.

She just pulls Steph even closer, plants a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "You're still not a terrible person. If you believe one thing I ever tell you, let it be that."

The kiss reminds her of her mom, and while it makes her feel a little homesick, the comfort of it loosens some of the tightness in her chest and she lets out a slow breath. It also helps to hear that she's not a terrible person, because she respects Peggy's opinion and does want to believe her.

"I believe you," Quiet, but - true enough, even if it might be a work in progress sometimes. She sighs, rubs her hands over her face, "Sorry. This wasn't what I meant to dump on you when I came here."

"You don't have to apologise at all," Peggy says, softly but also a little sternly. She tilts her head a little, so she can look Steph in the eye. "It doesn't matter what you intended. You are always, always welcome to come to me. For anything."

Because it really doesn't matter. Peggy can read people with ease, and mistakes made or otherwise, she knows when and how to balance honesty with support. She's come to love this girl so much, there's never a second thought about showing it as she can.

"You might regret that one day," Her smie is a little wry, teasing, an attempt at a joke that Steph probably shouldn't be given free reign like that. But her expression behind the smile is genuine, grateful, she's just not good at actually articulating that, so she's relying on humour.

More seriously, and quieter, she adds, "Do you really think people would listen to me?" It's a strange thought to get used to, even if Batgirl is starting to get a little more respect than Spoiler and Robin did.

"Never," she replies, even if as she senses the humor and teasing attempts. And as if to drive it home, she gives Steph a squeeze of a hug, for however close she's already holding her.

Peggy's still looking her in the eye, and she offers a tiny, assuring smile at the question. "I absolutely do."

In some ways, Steph reminds her of herself - there was something forceful in both of them that could easily command attention when wanted.

She's quiet for a while, letting that sink in, trying to believe it, and eventually she relaxes entirely, settling against Peggy, "Thank you."

It's still strange to have someone support her without ever questioning her at other times. She knows Peggy wouldn't get away with any crap, but she's never put her down like Bruce, Dick, or Tim have, never purposefully tried to break her spirit like Babs did. Dinah is probably the only one who never doubted Steph, but even then, she still left.

It's nice, if confusing.

"God, these--" She hates saying zombies, "These things have really messed me up. I hope it ends soon."

She brushes her lips against Steph's forehead again. "You don't have to thank me. But you're still welcome."

There's a slightly wry smile at the zombies. "I wish we had answers to how long we'll be under. It might help to see the sun again." She pauses for a moment. "And you know you can stay here as long as you like. We've secured it, and you'll be safe."

She knows Steph would prefer to be out in the fray, because Peggy is much the same way - but she also knows her limits. That's why she's here now, and why she'll keep Steph here as long as she can. It's a security she knows the young woman could stand to have right now.

"I know it's just an illusion of freedom, but yeah, I don't really like the reminder that we're trapped," It feels stupid that it makes a difference, whether she can see the sky or the sea. They're trapped either way, all of them caught in the bubble of god knows what origin.

But at least she doesn't feel so claustrphobic, when she can see the sky.

There are words on the tip of her tongue about answers, about how little the kedan will tell them, but she doesn't feel like being angry right now, so she swallows them down, saves them for another time.

Instead, she sighs, "I should go back out." There's so much unspoken in those words, the knowledge that she's exhausted and Peggy knows it, that it'd be dangerous to go out again when she's like this, that it might do more harm than good.

But she doesn't know how to make herself stay, without it driving her crazy.

Peggy nods, in understanding. "At least above water, there's natural light. Open air." Being stuck on the ocean floor is an element out of their control that's more tense than when Tu Vishan is sailing like a boat.

"No." The response to Steph going back out is almost instant, full of both concern and warning. "What you should do is try to sleep. You won't do anyone good, yourself included, by going out again right now. We have limits. Everyone." Herself included. Steve included.

She pauses for a moment, then adjusts her grip on Steph's shoulders. "Come here," she says, gently tugging her backwards on the bed.

Idly, she wonders if air can get through the barrier, if it closed up more during the dive or if it's always been like that and they're their own little ecosystem cut off from the world. She's not even sure if that would work, but exhaustion is making her thoughts go in odd directions.

There's relief in her expression, when Peggy tells her no, because it gives her an excuse to stay, it gives her a way to make her guilt complex shut up for a moment.

Still, Peggy is tugging her onto bed, and no matter what the other circumstances are, she can't let that go without comment, "You know, I think this is the first time a woman's dragged me into bed." She gives Peggy a bit of a rakish grin, even as she does move with the tug.

"Um," says Steve from the doorway.

He has a tea tray. He was going to knock. But then he heard that, and while he can't imagine - he knows what the situation must be, still. After overhearing their last conversation that went this way, he mostly wants to save himself the embarrassment of another exchange happening within earshot. "I could hang something on the door and come back later."

Peggy sighs, simultaneously in mild amusement and exasperation. She successfully starts tucking Steph into her side of the bed, when she hears Steve at the door.

"No, come in, please." Besides, he probably has tea, and Peggy figures they could both use a cup right now.

She's laughing, it's a bit shaky around the edges in that sort of way where things are funnier than they should be, because she's so high strung, but at least she's smiling.

And Peggy's comment just makes her smile more, and she leans up enough to waggle her eyebrows at Steve, "There's room for one more."

Sometimes she wonders how they haven't gotten fed up with her nonsense yet.

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