radicalize | [contact] voicemail + texts

[ calling, calling... ]

[ seeing his name on the display, she picks up on the first ring. it's a few seconds, though, before Lucy can manage to say anything, too stunned, her heart stuck in her throat. ]

Steve?

I got your message.

[ his voice comes out rough, words sounding harsher than he intended, and he regrets that instantly. he wasn't prepared for the sound of her voice, even though he replayed her message over and over, trying to decide whether to respond. he waits too long before speaking again. ]

I know.

Oh. Right. That's —

[ that's good, she almost says, but that isn't actually a word that applies to any of this. hearing the way he sounds, she almost wonders if she shouldn't have called, but it was better to be on the safe side, and anyway, there's no taking it back now. still, it hurts more than she'd have thought it would. ]

I wasn't sure. It seemed better to let you know, just in case.

Thank you. I — appreciate it.

[ he doesn't like it, how impersonal he sounds, how heartless, but he isn't sure there's any better way to be right now. even if he was ready to forgive her, it's best to keep her at a distance. with everything that's happened, with hydra now lurking in every shadow, he isn't safe to be around. ]

I didn't think you'd call.

[ it's an apology, of sorts — another one — though he's the one who chose to call her back when he didn't have to. given the way he sounds, she has to wonder why he did. she doesn't have the heart to ask. ]

I owed you the courtesy.

[ and he wishes that was it, the beginning and the end of it, just a man showing the same consideration he was given. this would be so much easier that way. but even if he can't say for certain what the ulterior motive is, he knows that he has one. ]

You don't owe me anything, Steve.

[ it's true, more than she can handle. while she's been okay, for the most part, up until now, it's suddenly too much, the combination of the guilt she hasn't been able to shake, and hearing Steve's voice again, and having found out about Bucky earlier. she has to swallow hard to try to keep herself composed. it doesn't do anything about the tears in her eyes. ]

[ you're damn right, he almost says, the part of him that's still angry speaking. but he's had time. if not enough to forgive, or understand, at least enough to be levelheaded. ]

I just meant that it wouldn't have been right, keeping you in the dark.

Edited 2014-05-08 06:57 (UTC)

[ unable to help it, she lets out a breath that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob, tilting the phone away from her mouth at the last second in the hopes that maybe the sound won't carry. he can't mean it like that, she's sure — no matter what she's done, it's too hard to imagine Steve deliberately twisting the knife like that — but that sure as hell doesn't make it any easier. ]

Not like I did, you mean.

[ he doesn't realize until too late, hearing the words echo over the line, the double meaning sinking in like a knife. he wants to believe that he didn't mean it, not in that way, but maybe, unconsciously, he did. hearing her sob, the sound distant but unmistakable, doesn't make him any more inclined to think of best of himself. ]

No. That wasn't what I —

[ he trails off, taking a deep breath, willing the right words to come. ]

I didn't mean it like that at all.

[ had it come from anyone else, she'd be nothing but skeptical. a part of her, some old, bitter, vindictive instinct, wants to be, to turn it back around on him. didn't you? is on the tip of her tongue. but even if she could believe that he might have said something like that on purpose, it's too difficult to imagine him lying and saying he didn't, especially when she deserves whatever he could throw at her. somehow, that only makes her feel worse. ]

Whether you did or not, it's still true, and we both know it.

[ she's right. as much as he wishes he could, he can't argue. but he isn't about to just say so. he may still be angry with her, but he's twisted the knife enough already, however unintentionally. to continue to lay on the blame would be unnecessarily cruel, and that's something that's never sat well with him. ]

It's not the reason I called.

No, I — I know that.

[ no matter what he's said, it's one thing she can be sure of, even if she still can't figure why he might have called her. Steve isn't like that. besides, if he were, his silence over the past month has said more than any cutting remark over the phone could, anyway, though she suspects that same silence is part of what makes it so hard to hear. her own guilt accounts for the rest. ]

You just wanted to tell me, right? And now you've told me.

I guess I have.

[ he knows what comes next. they both hang up and go about their separate lives. he has no one to blame for that but himself; he's the one who cut her out. but even if he were ready to forgive her, his life is too much of a mess right now, and he can't in good conscience let her get tangled up in it.

the next words are hard to say. but it's the right call, and believing that makes him able to force them out. ]

Goodbye, Lucy.

[ it is, unexpectedly, a relief to hear just as much as it hurts. there's a part of her that just wants to keep talking, to find an excuse to stay on the line so she doesn't have to go back to them not speaking, but it's better this way. she's barely keeping it together as it is, and she doesn't want that to be made any more apparent than it already has. ]

Take care of yourself, Steve.

[ she doesn't wait to see if there's a response before ending the call. ]

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