Early Fox Gets The Bird

by flyingfoxtopus

Summary:

Steve is so close to his happily ever after he can taste it. There’s almost nothing standing between him and the beautiful future with the loves of his life. A life more perfect than he could ever have imagined. All he has to do is return the Infinity Stones, repair the damage caused by undoing the Snap, and find a way to protect their now vulnerable timeline.

So close and yet so far.

At least he has both his people with him this time. Sweet Ayame, who tried to warn him. Beloved Bucky, beside him no matter what. He’s sure the three of them can shake the universe, but he’d rather spend the time sketching them while they played with their baby.

Just a little longer and they can have that.

Assuming they don’t mess this up.

Notes:

Stay with me.

Chapter 1: Bad Beginnings

Notes:

So this instalment leans pretty heavily on the plot of Agent Carter season 2. I would recommend either giving it a quick watch, or scanning the wiki.
To that end Wiki.

Peggy wanted to say this was the worst week she’d ever had. Regrettably, she wasn’t sure it even broke the top five. There had been that night in Berlin, which had gotten her shot. That mess in Austria, which had been ‘her fault’, until Steve had managed to drag himself back to camp. The first week after she’d ended thing with Fred, when pretty much everyone she cared about had thought she’d gone insane. Arguably the week everyone else had thought Howard was a traitor. And shining above the rest, the week Steve had lost Bucky, and she had lost Steve.

This was undeniably bad. Deeply irritating not to mention inconvenient. The implications were problematically world ending. There were substantial and worrying gaps in their intelligence that made those implications worse. But it wasn’t that bad. At least not yet. And it wouldn’t get that bad if she had anything to say about it.

Masters being here complicated things, but it didn’t change things. Her ability to work in unusual circumstances and with limited resources was what had gotten her recruited to Project Rebirth in the first place. She’d gotten Steve and the Commandos in and out of Liège despite objections from Churchill and General De Gaulle. And Masters wasn’t nearly as intimidating as say… General Bradly when he discovered that the ‘tip of his spear’ had commandeered a jeep and headed into the Normandy countryside without orders because their sources had caught wind of a Hydra weapons cash.

Admittedly, all she’d had to do then was sooth a masculine ego and let Steve do what he did best. All things were forgiven when the AWOL team returned with half a captured tank division and the locations of seven high ranking generals. Peggy wondered if informing Masters just how many members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had her on their Christmas card list would change his mind.

Probably not. Odds were he was on a similar number, and she didn’t particularly want to know how many were members of the Council. Better not to test the matter. Far better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. She suspected that, like with the tanks, they’d be scrambling to deliver praise and take credit when the curtain finally came down. If only to obscure their own involvement in the matter.

There was nothing for it. They’d just have to break in and steal the warheads before Whitney Frost could.

Not the most impossible plan she’d ever heard. They had the skills. Even if those skills were in bits and pieces that would require her to assemble a larger team than she would like. They were very green and out of practice respectively. It wasn’t that she doubted their abilities. Mr. Jarvis’s enthusiasm was boundless. Doctor Samberly was an undeniably brilliantly inventor. Rose was marvellously talented at what she did. Daniel had been decorated for his ability to disarm a bomb. She was perfectly aware of what her own talents and abilities were. It was just that she’d like a little more time to practice.

Really, she’d kill to have the Howling Commandos here. The Commandos were neither green nor out of practice. She’d feel so confident with them at her back. Denier could disarm the missiles in a heartbeat. Happy and Stark working together could find a way to override the elevator. And if anyone stood a chance at pulling Howard away from his filmset it was the ever-convincing Pinky. There were few forces that could stand in the face of Dugan on a mission. Monty knew what she was thinking almost before she did…

No, what she really wanted, if she was dreaming of the impossible anyway, was Steve. Who was all those things and more. …her Steve…

She’d been doing better lately. Since she’d saved him one last time and said her final goodbyes. Making a concerted effort to live a full life without him. A personal life as well as professional. She had stopped comparing potential suitors to him. It was unfair to everyone involved. Although she’d like to think he’d approve of everyone who could reasonably be placed in that category. She wouldn’t go so far as to call that part of her life successful. But she was making progress. She didn’t miss him when she considered that aspect of her future. At least that was what she told herself.

It was times like this she would fully admit to missing him. When it was down to the wire. Backs against the wall. Scrambling to stop the world from ending. She wanted to see that glint in Steve’s eyes. The knowledge that their idea was crazy, but it was going to work.

Sadly, needs must. She didn’t have Steve. She didn’t even have the howling commandos. Her issue was off book in California. They were under orders in eastern Europe. She’d figure things out and they’d all have a laugh the next time they got drinks.

She had a butler, a scientist who had never been into the field, a skilfully violent middle-aged woman, and an SSR section chief with a rather severe limp.

Roxon wouldn’t know what hit them.

*****

For the third time in his life Steve lurched out of time and onto a New York street. Emerging from the quantum realm between the outdoor seating for a café and a Prius. Considering the world was going to come close to ending in a few hours, it was a beautiful calm day. The sky a smooth expanse of unbroken blue. Whatever happened this afternoon, this morning things in the Village were almost painfully normal. People hurrying along the sidewalks, cabs crowding the streets, all going about an average day. Unconcerned about anything other than their regular lives.

Of course, they hadn’t spotted Steve, and his spouses in their battle gear yet. At some point someone would start to worry if they saw Captain America and what were clearly two assassins hanging around. Steve glanced over his shoulder. Bucky and Amy were there. Looking more confident than he felt. “Let’s move.”

They were half a block from their target. A building Steve had once dropped Ayame outside of after a painful day remembering their lost baby. One of the palaces the industrialists had built when the city was young. Limestone, brick, and wrought iron. A copper roof in the French style, aged to a perfect green patina. There had still been a hundred like it when Steve had been young. Now, they were almost all gone. Torn down or converted into something else. The land too valuable for anything like a single-family home. Somehow, this one had survived. None of its neighbours had. A few of the surrounding buildings had made it through the intervening century. The facades survived. But inside they were stores, restaurants, offices, and apartments.

This mansion had escaped that fate. An observatory window dominated the top story on the front side. A round expanse of glass, crossed with dark iron bars that offered more than support. They turned the aperture into more than a sheet of glass. But portal, anchor, or lens, Steve couldn’t say. Whatever it was it lent the building an air of power that had nothing to do with the monetary excess of the old railroad barons.

The door swung open before they reach the step. Inside, the space was impossibly large. Just the space in front of the grand staircase would occupy most of the building’s footprint. Beyond that, half a dozen other rooms and galleries stretched into the distance. The second story looked just as large.

Steve tumbled through the doorway, dragging Amy and Bucky with him. The door slammed shut again before Steve could turn back to it, separating them from the normal world behind them.

Halfway up the stairs, a head popped up. A middle-aged man in a deep blue robe made up of intricately folded and pleated panels of fabric. He had a rag in hand, apparently in the middle of polishing the banister. “Ma’am, the young Fox is here.”

“They were expecting us?” Bucky muttered scanning the room. He didn’t see any threats. But the atmosphere felt too alive. Too sentient. He couldn’t see anything about to attack them. But there was something in the air that said they would be if they showed aggression.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Amy shrugged. Given what they were here for, it was entirely possible they’d visited before. Even if they hadn’t, her Grandmother’s friend had never been bound a linear experience of time.

A woman in bright saffron robes swept down the stairs, arms open in greeting. Her timeless face warmed by a smile. “Ayame, it’s been too long.”

“Hello, Modryb.” Amy slipped her hand into Bucky’s, Steve’s palm firm on the small of her back. It had been too long. She hadn’t spoken to the Ancient one since before she’d taken time away for university. “We need some advice.”

*****

The sanctum sanctorum’s main hall hadn't been redecorated since the turn of the last century. Everything spoke of genteel comfort. From the dark wood panelled walls, to the couches and chairs upholstered in elegantly distressed velvet and leather, to the dozens of objet d’art, mystical artefacts, and antiques covering every surface.

Working as they were, Ayame and her boys didn’t all cuddle onto the same love seat. Ayame settled herself at the end of one of the couches arranged in an L in front of the fireplace. Bucky next to her, left arm resting behind her. Steve kitty corner, their knees just touching, Mjolnir between his feet. The Sorceress Supreme spread her robes around her as she settled into the armchair opposite the trio. The acolyte set a lacquered tray in the last remaining space on the table. Bowing respectfully before he disappeared deeper into the Sanctum.

“Thank you, Master Hammier.” The Ancient One lifted the heavy cast iron teapot and filled the four waiting celadon cups. “Now then. Why don’t you fill me in on what’s going on?”

“Where do we start?” Steve ran a hand over his jaw. He hadn’t shaved this morning and stubble was already rough against his palm. So much had happened in their lives. So much more needed to happen to protect what they’d built together. Normally, he’d say the beginning. But there was so much beginning to get through before things started to make sense. No. For this story he needed to start right in the middle. “Thanos killed half the Universe. Snapped his fingers and made them disappear.”

They took turns telling the story. Bucky mostly taking a back seat. He knew what had happened, but he hadn’t been there for a lot of it. Steve took the lion’s share. He could tell his girl was as anxious as she was eager for help. Whatever he could do to take some of that burden from her, he would. Amy filled in the gaps and details she thought would interest the Sorceress Supreme

Amy pressed her shoulders down and back. Hands folded lotus like around her teacup. She was silk over steel. Serine. Even if this was all her fault and her boys would be safe right now if not for her. “My interference displeased Great Grandmother. She… She’s worried Kang and his organisation will exploit what I did to attack our timeline.”

Steve hated when Ayame went all tense like this. Inhumanly still and ridged. He knew why. She blamed herself. Despite all the evidence screaming that she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was convinced that they wouldn’t be in this situation without her. And maybe they wouldn’t, but Steve would hate to see the situation they would be in. Without her to get them the Soul Stone, they would have lost at least one team member. No other option. And that was before they got into everything that had happened with Nebula. Steve took her left hand. Folded it protectively between both of his. It felt delicate, but he knew just how strong it was. They could set it all right. All they needed was more information. That was why they were here. “We need to stop that happening. We just don’t know how.”

The Ancient One studied them for a long moment. Weighing their words and the implications. It was a difficult problem. One the one hand, Amaterasu wasn’t one to jump to conclusion. If she said Kang and the Time Variance Authority were searching for opportunities to invade, they almost certainly were. On the other, meddling could lead to collisions and infiltrations all on its own. “Well. That’s not an easy position, is it?”

Steve snorted. Now there was an understatement.

“I believe you are correct. Your presence should prevent a violent branching and allow the timeline to loop back together. Further interference at that moment is likely to only make the situation less stable.”

“You’re telling us Thanos smashing his way through time and nearly killing the people responsible for bringing everyone back isn’t a big deal?” Bucky had come into the middle of it, but skyscraper sized spaceships falling from the sky felt pretty major.

The Ancient one considered him thoughtfully. A fair assessment especially for one so young. Once he’d seen the universe come close to ending a few more times, he’d learn when something disastrous, and when it was merely tragic. “This Nebula used the Stones to dispel him and his army?”

Amy nodded once sharply. Nebula had replicated her father’s snap to beautiful effect. “She did.”

Small blessings. The Stones had a will of their own, and they were bound to this universe. They wouldn’t let it be destroyed without deliberate instruction. “Then the likely outcome is the universe just putting him back so to speak. Reality likes simplicity. Of course, you should return the other Stones. It is always best to tidy up loose ends. And you will promise me. But I would refrain from trying to adjust too much in your own time. Don’t force a fit where one isn’t necessary.”

Amy swallowed. Even if they didn’t have to do anything about Thanos, they still had a lot of loose ends. Some of them easy enough to tie up. Others… less so… “My Grandfather…”

Was a complication all his own. Still a small disaster, but with potential to be more if left untended. But Loki had always been a good son in law. He’d see reason if it came as instruction from his beloved’s mother. And dear young Ayame came bearing Amaterasu’s words. “May have created a rift. Close it. Remind him what he’s waiting for. He’ll do his duty.”

“That’s it?” Steve wasn’t going to let himself get excited. But it was hard not to be at least a little hopeful. It sounded too simple. Too good to be true. If Thanos was fine, and Loki was fine, everything else was fixable. They’d be home by dinner.

“Your wife can be quite convincing when she wants to be.” The Ancient One answered with a gentle smile.

She could be. Steve kissed Ayame’s fingertips. The pearl of her ring pressing into palm. His brilliant, beautiful wife. He’d be lost without her. They both would. He said a silent prayer that neither of them would have to be without her again.

The Ancient One refilled her teacup. Thanos and Loki were minor threats in the grand scheme of things. “What you need to be worried about is Kang and his Time Variance Agency attacking elsewhere along the timeline in an attempt to bring this universe and the universes it defends into line. The Stones and their power represent vulnerabilities in reality. Weak spots in the walls of the universe. Weak spots become tears in the hands of our opponents.”

Bucky froze halfway through reaching for his tea. Her words a slap to his face. Weak spots in reality. Vulnerabilities. Moments they could be attacked and everything could be destroyed. And it sounded like those moments extended from the beginning of time until Thanos destroyed the Stones. “Just any point on the timeline?”

Technically yes. But Amaterasu and her children had done their work well. It took more than a minor deviation to break the protection they had established. “Any point when the Stones themselves are not sufficiently protected. The greatest risk is while the participants of the initial instability are alive. There is more scope for variance that would affect the act itself during that time.”

Steve snapped to ridged attention. They were fucked. All Ayame’s worry and he was the one putting them at risk. He’d wanted to bring back what they’d all lost. Return Ayame’s family to her. Instead, he’d opened them up to a hundred years of attack. One hundred and five technically. One hundred and five years, plus six Stones scattered to the far ends of the galaxy… millions of opportunities for a mad man to exploit. Thousands of cracks for reality to shatter along. It didn’t matter what they did. What repairs they made. There was no way they could defend that much territory.

The Ancient One raised her hand placatingly. His thoughts were obvious. Luckily it wasn’t quite as bad as he feared. “Not all threats are created equal. Most of the Stones are already protected. The Aether is inaccessible except during the Convergence. The Titans are fanatical in their guard over the sceptre. The seas of Morag are impenetrable. The enemy is already barred from Vormir. And of course, I hold the Eye.”

“Which leaves the Tesseract.” Bucky leaned forward over his knees. They should have known. It was always the damn Tesseract. He’d give anything for Schmidt to never have found the thing. Next to him, Amy shifted. Crossing her ankles and tucking them behind his foot. Almost anything.

Steve ran through the cube’s timeline. Scrabbling for hope that he hadn’t doomed them all trying to give Amy back her husband and baby. “I don’t see Schmidt letting anyone touch the thing during the war. It takes Stark months to get it out of the ocean and it’s on heavy lockdown until S.H.I.E.L.D. gets up and running. After today Thor takes it back to Asgard.”

It sounded nice when you said if fast like that. But saying it fast like that glossed over a pretty big issue in Bucky’s mind. Maybe they’d brought the danger down from billions of years, but the two ends still didn’t meet. “So we only have to worry about the sixty odd years in between.”

“Approximately sixty. Yes.” The Ancient One agreed. Her concern softer than his. But then, he was young. Sixty years wasn’t as long as it felt like at that age. The bat of an eye really. Nothing they couldn’t bandage with a little effort. “This requires more thought. The best thing we can do in this moment is repair the obvious damage. Return the Stones, retrieve your grandfather, replace the hammer. As for the rest… I will meditate on the matter and see if I can’t at least assemble at least a reasonable idea of what we’re dealing with. I suggest you do the same. I’m sure we can come up with a solution, although I can’t promise there won’t be sacrifices.”

Amy squeezed Bucky’s knee. Anchoring the connection between them. “We’re pretty used to that.”

Steve brought Amy’s fingers to his lips again. They were. “When do we start?”

“The one thing we have is time.” The Ancient One swept to her feet. She would meditate on the matter. The Eye of Agamotto would allow her to investigate various permutations without forcing them to commit to one over the others. “Shall we regroup here in say… four hours.”

Steve rubbed his eyes. She wasn’t wrong. As long as things stayed stable, they had time. He just hoped things didn’t destabilize while they were thinking. “Call it six. I want to make sure nothing happens to Loki during shawarma.”

Bucky could wait. He was an expert at waiting. More intel was always better. He eyed the case full of Stones thoughtfully. One problem at a time. “You want that back now? Or do we hold onto it?”

The Ancient One smiled. Young. But they had spirit. Easy or no, they would find a way to protect this universe. “You hold onto it. Of all of them, the Time Stone is the most stable.”

Amy stood. Drawing her husbands with her. “Six hours then. Thank you, Auntie.”

Notes:

*auntie (Welsh)

Probably going to be posting about once a week. Enjoy.

Chapter 2: Unexpected Friends

They could do this. Things might not be going well just at this moment. But they could. Peggy gritted her teeth.

Create a distraction. Regroup. Extract the target material. Get the civilians clear. Convince Daniel that she and Rose weren’t really civilians. Make him go with Jarvis, Doctor Samberly, and the warheads. Then she and Rose could --

“You got a plan here?” Daniel should never have agreed to this. He’d been worried something would go wrong, and now look where they were. They were breaking and entering. They didn’t have the warheads. Whitney Frost was here. And so were a surprising of number of Italian gangsters. The civilian they’d brought with them was locked on the other side of a blast door along with the bombs they were trying to steal.

Oh, for a man who would give her a second to think. She had several potential plans. And if he would just give her a moment she could narrow them down to one best option.

“Talk Mr. Jarvis through disassembling the cores.” The plan crystallised in Peggy’s mind in an instant. The glass left behind in the wake of a desert thunderstorm. Brittle and inelegant, but sharp edged. The only solution. Cut the Gordian knot. Burn the hydra’s necks. Work with what they had not what they wanted.

“What?” He had to have heard her wrong. It was a complicated and delicate procedure on a device he’d never seen before. He couldn’t just talk someone through it. He needed to see where things were in relation to other things. Feel the tension in certain wires.

“Do it, Daniel.” Peggy snapped. There were men on this planet who would follow her orders without question. Some of the best, brightest, most respected soldiers in the world. So why couldn’t other men follow directions just once. “Doctor Samberly, get that door open.”

Peggy turned on her heel. They’d either do their part or they wouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter which they chose if she didn’t do her part. Thank goodness she could rely on Rose not to lose her head.

“What are you going to do?” Daniel called after her.

Peggy flexed her right hand. She knew she should have known a manicure was a waste of time. “I’m going to create a distraction.”

She didn’t make it to the end of the hall before a distraction started without her. A very loud distraction. One made up primarily of explosions and shotgun blasts. Interspersed with a generous number of whoops and shouted directions.

Peggy snapped to attention. She recognised that sound. That sound should be on a different continent.

As if in confirmation, a bowler hat attached to a man careened around the corner. “Dugan?”

“Hey Peggy!” Dugan greeted her brightly, already reloading his shotgun. “107th reporting for duty.”

“Why on earth are you here?” She wasn’t ungrateful. She was just surprised. Last she’d heard the were in Romania.

“You call we answer.” Gabe shouted over the noise.

That was true. All she’d ever had to do was ask. But she had very deliberately not asked.

“Allez, allez, allez! *” Denier beckoned for them all to move.

He had a point. Questions were for when you weren’t being shot at.

Peggy pulled herself up to her full height. Letting the strength of her team add steel to her spine. “Samberly, get that door open. Denier, Sousa is trying to talk Stark’s butler through disarming a nuclear warhead. Help him. Everyone else, fall in.”

“You heard the lady.” Dugan bellowed. “No one in or out of this hallway. Happy on the twelve. Monty take the six. Rose, you're with me. Everyone else fire at will.”

Daniel was good at his job. Peggy had never doubted that. But Denier was a maestro with explosives of any description. Between the two of them, they walked Jarvis through disarming and removing the cores. The amount they managed to communicate through the small window using miming and hand signals was truly impressive. Peggy would complement them on it just as soon as they were safely above ground.

All the doors in the hall popped open with a harsh electric buzz. Samberly demonstrating why he’d been invited on this little trip.

A jittery Jarvis half tumbled into the hall. The case with the warheads clutched to his chest. He looked practically giddy. Which might be the success and might be an oncoming breakdown. “I did it. I got them.”

Several shots ricocheted off the wall above their head. They were anything but out of the woods yet.

In a panic, Samberly relocked the door between them and their attackers. It meant they’d have to go the long way around the compound to get back to the elevator. But it did also mean they didn’t have to dodge bullets for the next couple minutes, so Peggy couldn’t be too mad. They couldn’t exactly rest. Or stop moving at all really. It wouldn’t take long for Frost to either get through the door or find a way around. But it bought them enough breathing room for Peggy to figure out what the hell was going on.

Dugan had said she’d called, but that was impossible. She’d thought about calling certainly. But it had been an impractical pipedream and she’d written it off almost as soon as it had occurred. “What were your orders?”

“Don’t know how we could have messed them up, Pegs.” Morita fished his scratch pad out of his pocket and offered it to her. The page it was open to held a single transmission. Morse code followed by the transcription. “They weren’t complicated.”

Peggy read what he had written three times before it fully sank in. Double checked the translation from code to English to make sure there weren’t any errors that changed the meaning. Although she couldn’t come up with any changes that made it make any more sense. Morita was right. It wasn’t complicated. Six words. Report to Polaris. Keep it quiet. Followed by date time and location. They were about twenty minutes late. But otherwise had followed the orders to the letter.

It was the third word that stuck out to her. Polaris. No one had called her that in a very long time. Not since she’d left the army and returned to New York. She’d thought it had been fully retired. Redacted from her file. Completely classified until the end of the official secrets act. Outside of that file there were only a handful of people who knew the name belonged to her. Even fewer who had caller by the name. And all but one of them were in this room. …Or dead…

“Who sent this?” There was no way Colonel Philips could know what was going on here. And the time. Given where they’d been whoever had sent this would have had to know they were going to break into Roxxon before they did.

Morita shared a meaningful look with Happy. “We thought you did…”

“Kinda gotta move here, Pegs.” Daniel wasn’t panicking yet. But even with the Commandos here, they weren’t in a great spot.

A shot hit the wall behind them. He had a point.

“What was the encryption?” Peggy called, already falling into the loping run she remembered from so many days in the field. They had to have miss translated it. It was a fluke, and they were supposed to be in Burma or Leningrad right now. Admittedly, she couldn’t think of any other transliteration at formed anything like coherent orders. And it was a truly impossible coincidence.

“Standard with our normal shift.” Morita called back without hesitation. He’d been the one to receive and decode it. There hadn’t even been any transmission errors to deal with. It had taken him longer than normal, but it had been clean.

“What was the key word?” Peggy asked. They had four or five standards they rotated through. They were all about the same importance. None more meaningful than the others. And yet she was curious.

There was a long weighty pause before Happy answered for them. “Shield.”

Peggy swallowed. None of the key words held more importance than the others, and yet…

Not using that particular key anymore had been an unspoken agreement. Never an official or even considered decision. They’d just shifted the code using other options.

And she didn’t have time to figure out what the hell its use meant now because goddamn Whitney Frost was trying to detonate a goddamn nuclear bomb. “Keep moving. I’ll meet you outside.”

Daniel froze. She couldn’t be serious. “Peggy…”

“Mission first.” If Frost got her hands on the warheads, the entire country was at risk, to say nothing of the rest of the world.

Fuck. Fuck. She was right, and Daniel hated that she was right, but her couldn’t deny that she was. “Dugan, stay with her.” Daniel rounded on her. She might be right, but he wasn’t losing an agent on an off-book mission. Especially not Peggy. “If you’re not out in five minutes—”

“You’ll do your bloody job and get the warheads out of here.” Peggy snapped. She was gratified when the rest of the team fell in around him. Taking the protection of the case as seriously as even she could want. All except for Dugan, who came to stand neatly at her shoulder. Peggy swallowed the warm tightness in her throat. Dum Dum could stay. An extra set of hands never hurt.

*****

Peggy could hear Whitney arguing with her husband even before she and Dugan made it onto the landing. She waved for Dugan to stay back and cover her. No point in giving away both their positions.

It was clear who the dominant personality in the relationship was. Not for the first time Peggy wondered how far Whitney could have gone if she’d been born a man. She was almost glad the men around them were so thoroughly distracted by her looks they failed to realize exactly how brilliant she was. It was almost painful how much Peggy could relate.

*****

“I’m sorry, Agent Carter. Some people just aren’t cut out for Hollywood.” Whitney shoved her hard in the chest.

Peggy jerked, trying to get her balance back. The flimsy wood of the makeshift rail cracked… And she toppled into open space.

Hitting the ground wouldn’t have been an issue. Eight feet. It was nothing. She would have been winded, but she’d gotten up and kept moving after worse.

The rebar was the issue. She could feel it, icy cold inside her. Things shouldn’t be cold inside you.

Notes:

*go, go, go

Chapter 3: Catching Up With Grandfather

Ayame didn’t pace. Not when things were going well. And despite what her gut may say, things were going well. At least at this moment. All they had to do was retrieve her grandfather and return him to New York before anyone noticed he was missing. That didn’t mean she had to be happy about being in the Gobi Desert. Standing stock still on a ridge of rock, gazing out at a largely featureless expanse of sand. Bruce had noticed the energy anomaly here during the initial debrief from the battle of New York. Everyone had written it off as a fluke. A hiccup in his makeshift detector. Knowing what they did now, it made more sense.

There was a small possibility that it really was just a glitch and he’d leapt somewhere significantly further away. That would complicate matters. But one of the benefits of manipulating time was negative travel time. If they had to jump somewhere else, they could do so more than instantly.

She didn’t think they’d have to. This felt like the right place to be. Using the Infinity Stones wasn’t easy. Her Grandfather might be strong enough to manage one with the aid of an artefact built to channel the power, like the Tesseract, but it was still a tremendous amount of power pouring through him. A shorter trip would be easier to handle without lasting effect. Considering he’d recently been on the receiving end of a fairly serious beating, a straight line to the other side of the same planet was less likely to exceed his capabilities than jumping to the next habitable celestial body.

And time felt thin here. Ayame could feel the ripples of energy that warned of the boundaries between their universe and Kang’s. The resistance of two moments that could collapse into one pressing against the boundary that separated them from annihilation.

This was almost certainly going to end with some kind of fight. She flexed the hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Gods, she hopped it ended in a fight.

“Less than a minute.” Steve hoped they were doing this in the right order. He’d felt good about it when they’d roughed it out. Now, with Bucky on the slope overlooking them, the sun starting to dip, his normally serine wife starting to fidget, he felt less sure.

Amy released the hilt of her sword. Slipping her hand into Steve’s instead. She was on edge, he was worse. Maybe she should have sent him with Bucky. Done this part on her own. “This is going to work.”

Steve squeezed her fingers. It would. He didn’t know what ‘this’ was yet. But it would work. Whatever it took to keep them safe.

“We’ve got movement.” Bucky’s voice was low and intense. Surprisingly steadying in his ear.

A ragged electric blue circle tore itself open a few feet from their position.

Amy’s had disappeared from Steve’s. He flexed to make sure his shield was in place. Back to work.

Loki stumbled through the portal. Free from his brother’s clutches. He snapped the manacles binding his hands. Yanked the gag off his mouth.

A hand closed around the back of his neck, yanking him off his feet and throwing him back into the sand. “Stay down.”

Two figures loomed over him. Neither of them focused on him, for all they’d thrown him to the ground. She was a stranger. One with his daughter’s eyes, and hair that could only belong to one of her children. He wasn’t. His brother’s new friend. The serious one with the shield.

Loki didn’t have time for anything like real indignation. The world was already shifting around them. A transparent rectangle shimmered above the sand. Appearing out of thin air.

Ayame had her sword out before the rift in reality finished opening. Always move first. Don’t defend. Attack. Velocity was your ally.

The TVA agents that stormed through were completely unprepared for the assault. They had been trained to stand against most assaults. But not Ayame’s very specific brand of violence. They fanned out into what they probably thought was a defensive formation. All it did was spread them out. Break them into neat little bitesize pieces.

The front ranks were chaff. Nothing but a way for her to warm up and gage their speed. She ducked, pivoted, slashed. Blade flashing as she whirled. The first one went down clutching his throat. The second caught the reverse stroke across the torso, just under his chest plate, and stumbled backwards from the force.

The apparent captain of their little squad attempted to be bold. To lead a charge on her. All it did was left him exposed. A bullet lanced through his head before he got within five feet of her. Followed by a second before the body could drop. Her husband could be terribly protective.

She snatched the grenade shaped object off his belt. Flicking the switch to activate it and tossing it back through the portal. That gave her a time limit to work to, but it was worth it. Call it proving a point. Kang knew better than to make a play for their universe. It might not scare him off entirely. Infantry was practically limitless when you were conscripting and brain washing from imploding universes. But confusion on their side the better.

Amy turned her attention to the rest of the now leaderless team. Blood dripped from the tip of her sword. Violet sparks danced in her eyelashes.

The broke and ran. First one dropped her gun. Then another. Then all of them were running. Scrambling to beat each other back to the perceived safety of the Time Variance Agency. They were wrong about that safety. They’d bought themselves maybe a few moments. Then they’d fall into the trap Ayame had laid.

The last of them tumbled through the portal. The door in reality slamming shut behind them. The last thing Steve saw as it closed was a flash of light on the far side. Accompanied by what looked disconcertingly like the walls of the hall starting to crumple inward like tinfoil. Unnerving. But then so many things with this part of his wife’s life were.

Ayame methodically cleaned her sword. Not looking at her Grandfather in the sand as she recentred herself. “We have maybe fifty years before the Killing Stone breaks, and you will not ruin it for us.”

Loki’s head snapped up. No. It wasn’t possible. So soon? All he’d been waiting for the past thousand years. His love, their children, the end of the war…

But no. It was too much to hope. Too many things stood between them and that future. “My so-called father—”

“Oden won’t be a problem for much longer.” Less than a decade, and he wouldn’t just fall into the all-sleep. Entropy would take him. Of course, telling Loki that stood a very real chance of spooking her grandfather. His relationship with the man who had raised him was complicated. She’d let him work through it in his own time.

“The sun will shine on us again. But not if you screw it up. You had one job. Get the Mind Stone away from the genocidal maniac. I don’t recall anything in your instructions about making off with a different Infinity Stone. We’re taking you back to New York and your brother. You will return to Asgard. And you will wait for Amaterasu’s signal. The goddess of death will fall, and then…” Amy trailed off meaningfully. Waiting for the change in his posture told her he understood.

She didn’t have to wait long. Two heartbeats later, Loki’s shoulders dropped. Not in resignation or defeat. In visible relaxation. He understood. He held his hands out obediently. “Long live the goddess of death.”

“We done?” Steve asked. The sooner they got out of here, the better he’d feel. The last half a century still loomed over him. The potential disaster of it leaving a cold pit in his stomach. He wanted to get this part over with so they could get on with shoring it up.

Amy glanced at the remnants of the fight already fading. The bodies dissolving as the failsafes in their gear activated. TVA philosophy, leave no trace. The desert wind wiping away the disturbance in the sand, burying the last smears of blood. There would be more. But not here. Not today. This doorway was sealed. “We’re done.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Steve glared at the space where the portal had been. Not trusting it to stay closed if left unwatched.

Amy scooped the Tesseract out of the sand and tossed it to her grandfather. There was a reason people deferred to her husband and his plans. His solution to return the Tesseract and Sceptre was beautifully simple. Give people what they expect, and they won’t ask extra questions. “Make yourself look like the Captain.”

“Excuse me?” Loki looked between his granddaughter and his captor. He could of course. He had done so just a few minutes ago to mock his brother. The purpose of doing so now escaped him.

Steve released Loki. Amy wasn’t worried he’d run. Steve trusted her judgement. “Make yourself look like me. And make it good when I recapture you.”

Loki was missing something. Things were moving around him that he couldn’t quite see. For one thing, the man standing in front of him looked almost, but importantly, not quite exactly the same as the one he’d faced earlier in the day. The differences were subtle, but they were there. A smattering of grey at his temples. A worn patch on the shoulder of his outfit. “I’m glossing over a mistake, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. A little bit.” Steve pulled the Sceptre from a pouch on his belt. Expanding it to full size with a flick of his wrist. “Good news is you get to tell people you kicked my ass.”

Loki accepted the glowing spear. Holding it carefully in his free hand. His magic shimmered from head to toe, transforming him into a perfect doppelganger of the man he was facing. The Sun would shine on them again. “I’ll ‘make it good’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Amy reached across and set her hand on top of the Tesseract. With the cube to focus the power of the Stone, opening a portal was easy. The Space Stone wanted to tear holes in reality. Pull disparate places together. Opening a stable portal to a specific location was harder. That took concentration. The kind of concentration you couldn’t generate when you were panicking. Ayame didn’t panic. Not when she was working. Panic was a form of weakness and weakness was for after. She focused on her destination. Letting tendrils of power draw the two sides together like drawing a piece of string into a circle. It helped that it was a place she knew well. Stark Tower in New York. Not to the lobby with its mess. To a small side entrance she used to use regularly when she stayed over. Meters from where the Steve from this time was conducting a frantic search for the escaped prisoner. Her Steve’s hand found the small of her back. Working its way under her shirt to lend her strength. He was the one who nodded sharply. Loki’s signal to move.

The portal closed as soon as he stepped through. Edges wavering and shrinking in on themselves. The last connection to Ayame and her energy snapping. A thread drawn too taut.

Steve caught Amy as she sagged. Scooping the arm that had been resting on her back around her and clutching her to him before her knees could do more than bend. It was just a faint. Her breathing a little shallower than he’d like, but it was steady. It didn’t change that he hated seeing his wife, so fierce and beautiful moments ago, suddenly limp and unresponsive.

“Better get down here, Buck.” He stroked Amy’s cheek. Gratified when her lashes fluttered open, and she smiled at him. Her hand coming up to cup his face in return. He kissed the inside of her wrist. Feeling her pulse slow and even. “Our girl needs some love before we hit up our next stop.”

Bucky chuckled in his ear. Loving, but Steve didn’t miss the relief in the sound. “Be right there. Look after my baby girl for me.”

*****

Loki had escaped. He’d snagged the Tesseract in the chaos of Tony’s heart attack. Kicked Cap’s ass and taken the Sceptre back. And now he was gone. Probably forever. Cap took a long breath of smoke-tinged air. This was starting to turn in to the worst day of his life, and that was a high bar.

Officially, he was out here sweeping the alley. According to Professor Selvig, opening portals wasn’t easy. The shorter the distance, the easier it was. There was an off-chance Loki was still in the area. He’d made one short jump to get to the elevator and steal the Sceptre back. Maybe the second had been just as short. Maybe Loki was hiding close, hoping to blend into the chaos. Make his real escape once he’d gotten a chance to rest and revaluate. It was a good plan. Pretty close to what Cap would do in his situation.

The truth was he was hoping fresh air would help him get his head right. He needed to pull himself together. People expected him to be… People expected him to be something he never really had been. Something he needed to be now. There was too much on the line for him to be the reason things fell apart. Cap found his compass in his belt pouch. Loki had known exactly what buttons to push. He was off balance. Balance he’d only just gotten back. He wanted Peggy. He wanted Bucky. He wanted to be back in London, girl on one side, best friend on the other, laughing, forgetting how awful the world could be, just for a minute. He wanted the last month and a half to have never happened. Only it wasn’t a month and a half. It was sixty odd years…

Everyone who’d loved him was dead. Or didn’t remember who he was. They’d lived their lives. Changed the world. And he’d missed all of it. Now, what was he supposed to do? Start over? Keep saving the world. Make new friends. Figure out how life in this century worked. He didn’t think he could.

He’d thought, maybe he could make it work. Just for a moment. When he’d been standing in the penthouse, his makeshift team around him. A sense of success and purpose starting to come back.

Then everything had gone right back to shit.

He leaned against the cold concrete wall. Maybe he should go back to art school. Wouldn’t that blow everyone’s mind. He could just sit around and paint… He didn’t know what he’d paint. Churchill had painted after the war. What was it that biography everyone had wanted him to read had said? The same pond over and over? For once, the old man might have had the right idea.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cap caught a flash of blue light. Light he knew. He was moving before he registered where he knew it from.

He rounded the corner just in time to see himself leaning on his knees trying to catch his breath. Sceptre in one hand, Tesseract in the other.

Loki.

Shit. He might have to wait to take up painting.

Notes:

Killing Stone: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngNvakLYNto

Chapter 4: Not What Was Expected

Peggy touched the bandages wrapping her side and winced. Pinky had done his best, but it was still excruciating. She’d have to thank him for stitching her up. Would probably have to apologize when she inevitably bled through her bandages too. But that was on her for not sitting down.

She didn’t have time to sit down. As evidenced by the fact Daniel and Happy were standing in the hall waiting for her as soon as she opened the door.

“We have a problem.”

“Daniel. My side is currently held together with bandages and hope. The most decorated special forces our country has ever produced, might be technically AWOL. And I’m reasonably sure we haven’t heard the last of the Italian mob. I have a list of problems that need mitigating.” Frankly she wasn’t in the mood to hear about something that may or may not be an issue.

He held up the cylinder he’d brought with him. The one Jarvis had extracted from the warhead. All of those things were true. Any one of them would keep them up at night. But what he and Happy Sawyer had just found worried him more than all of them put together. “And this isn’t a fuel rod.”

No, it wasn’t. It was a fake. Not terrible, but not amazing either. Good enough to fool them in the moment. But up close it was clearly lead. Given that Daniel was holding it with his barehand, she assumed they’d tested it with a Geiger counter, and it had come up inert.

“The others?” Peggy asked not without hope if unoptimistic. One dummy was a problem. Three dummies were an out and out disaster.

“Same thing.” Daniel shrugged. Three identical cylinders. Exactly what they’d told Jarvis to look for. Exactly what he’d found. With everything else that had happened they hadn’t even thought to look further until Denier had gone to check that they were stable.

“Not quite.” Happy flipped the tube he was holding. It was lighter than the others. The ends a slightly different texture.

Peggy took the new cylinder from him. No, it wasn’t the same at all. Colour and material were right. But the construction was completely different. There was a tiny groove, barely a hairline, running around one end. Peggy just managed to slip her nail into the gap. As soon as she did, the end came off. It was nothing more than a tin canaster painted to look like the other rods. A container to conceal the real prize.

And what a prize it was. A cylinder, just over four inches long. The craftsmanship splendid. It looked like bronze and pewter. Endcaps carved with vine like filigree, one leaf deliberately arranged to form a marking arow. Carefully engraved and polished rings of numbers lining the length of the shaft. She twisted one experimentally and it moved from one position to the next with a satisfying click. It was better than any piece of jewellery she’d ever received. And it wasn’t even her birthday.

Daniel stared at the cryptic device. Of all the things he’d been expecting to find in a high-tech research facility, that wasn’t one of them. It looked like something out of fairyland. “What the hell is that?”

Peggy knew exactly what it was. There was a matching one in the footlocker back in New York. A treasured possession she hardly looked at anymore thanks to the associated memories. “It’s a puzzle cylinder. If you arrange the dials correctly it opens.”

Happy nodded. Of course. Whoever had arranged this wouldn’t want just anyone to get their hands on whatever message they had left. At least he assumed it was a message. “How do we get into it?”

That was the question wasn’t it. Hers was wood. A trinket. Steve had bought it at a Christmas market. And while she was sure he’d paid an exorbitant price, it had been whittled by a grandfather in his spare time. This was metal. Intricately joined and fitted bands polished to a mirror shine. If it wasn’t made by a jeweller, she’d be very surprised. Quality aside, the principle should be similar. Arrange the pieces so the numbers around the outside lined up with the arrows notched into the endcaps.

It was arranging the pieces that was the tricky part. Eight dials. Digits zero to nine to choose from. One hundred million possible combinations. Cracking enigma all over again. At least this time it wouldn’t reset every morning. Of course, it would still take weeks to try them all.

She needed to narrow down the options. Only she didn’t have any intelligence to narrow them down with. …Except whoever had sent the team to her had used shield for their encryption and called her Polaris in their message. If they’d wanted her to find the cylinder... If it was all related... Peggy didn’t believe in coincidence.

She twisted the dials. 07 04 19 18. The most obvious option. She had to try it first. And wasn’t remotely surprised when nothing happened. Still. This felt instinctually right.

Whoever had sent them they were clever. They knew things. They wouldn’t go with the obvious. But they knew what was really important. 03 10 19 17. She tried the end. Just as secure as ever.

But no. This puzzle was for her. 06 09 19 19.

Nothing.

Unless…

Peggy twisted the last two dials. Just a few digits difference.

Click.

The end of the cylinder popped out a fraction of an inch. Inviting her to open the secret compartment.

06 09 19 21. Her birthday. Not the one on her enlistment form. The one that was still listed in her official file. The real one. The one only a handful of people knew. Even most of the Howling Commandos didn’t know it. Her parents. Fred, assuming he remembered. Everyone else…

Everyone else was dead.

She forcibly stopped herself from hyperventilating. There were probably other people. Someone could have looked into her. It wouldn’t have taken that much snooping to uncover the parish records with the correct date. What was important now was figuring out why they’d taken such an interest. And what was important enough to warrant such elaborate presentation.

There wasn’t much that could fit in the narrow tube. Which meant the prize that tipped into her hand wasn’t a surprise. A slip of paper. Rolled tight and tucked away to wait for them. For her. The paper was quite nice. Creamy off white, and slightly velvety to the touch. Heavy as it was, she’d need to investigate for a watermark once she’d established what the primary message was. People so often forgot what they couldn’t see with the naked eye. With dexterous fingers she unfurled the note.

I can explain.

Peggy’s heart stopped. She was seeing things. Hallucinating from the stress of the day. That was the only explanation.

There had been a time when she had spent hours staring at this exact handwriting. Heavy, but precise. Firm strokes, elegant curves. Little skips where the pen moved too fast for the ink. A significant portion of her life had been spent reading that very particular script. Typing up reports and requisitions. Turning scrawled ideas into something more cohesive. Reading and rereading letters and notes written just for her.

But it couldn’t be that writing. She’d read her last note in this hand a lifetime ago at the end of the war. All she had left of it were a handful of letters. Tied in ribbon and hidden away at the bottom of her trunk. Too painful to look at. Too precious to even think of getting rid of.

She thrust the paper into Monty’s hand. He and Dugan were the two most likely to recognise it the way she did. “Read this.”

Monty’s mouth went dry. “What am I looking at?”

What he was looking at was either a simple three-word note, or it was completely impossible. “Tell me I’m crazy.”

That was what he’d been hoping she’d tell him. They were on the same page then. Not that Monty had any idea how they’d gotten on this page or what it meant. “I can’t”

Dugan took the paper from Monty’s suddenly limp fingers. Something had freaked out his brave brits. He wanted to know what it was so they could prepare. Nazis, communists, or gangsters they could handle all of it. They just needed to keep calm and---

He flipped over the page. And understood why Peggy’s fingers were shaking.

“That’s…” Dugan trailed off. Not willing to actually say something so insane out loud. It wouldn’t even occur to him. He’d write it off as strange that it was similar. Except there was the radio transmission with their orders…

“It isn’t.” Peggy squared her shoulders definitively. Wincing just slightly as her stitches pulled. Admittedly, she didn’t know what it was. But it couldn’t be that. Someone was trying to get in their heads. That was all. They’d figured out what buttons to push to throw them off balance and were exploiting them. She wouldn’t let it distract them. They’d figure out who was toying with them, what they were trying to keep them from noticing, and put a stop to it.

Whatever was going on with the commandos and their mystery opponent, they had more pressing issues.

Not that anyone would let her address those issues at this moment. Everyone seemed to feel that just because she had been ‘impaled’ she needed to ‘lay down and take it easy’. Admittedly, Gabe made an excellent point about there not being anything she could do before morning. And Pinky wasn’t wrong about her needing rest if she wanted to heal. Her pyjamas were significantly more comfortable than any of the presentable clothes she could change into. And yes, Peggy’s whole body felt heavy with exhaustion…. She would follow doctor’s orders for now. Just a couple of hours. Then she’d work on untangling the knot of mysteries that were tying them all up.

Chapter 5: Returning The Stones

Three down. Three to go. Steve counted them off in his head. He didn’t have so much as a fragment of doubt that they could do this. Partly because failure wasn’t an option. Partly because the individual facets of the operation were simple.

Returning the orb to its temple was easy enough. The temple had a side entrance. Amy timed it so they arrived just after Thanos’s ship took off. She and Bucky slipped in the side while Steve lined up a shot with a borrowed Widow’s Bite and shocked Quill back to wakefulness. Five minutes, start to finish. Clean and exactly to plan. Just how everything should have gone the first time.

*****

The Power Stone was the second to last Stone they needed to put back. Steve could see the light at the end of the tunnel. True, he wasn’t sure that light wasn’t the train of whatever the hell the Ancient One had been talking about when she had said ‘not all threats are created equal’. But there was light.

Returning the Aether was downright easy. Rocket had left a swath of chaos behind him when he’d fled the room. From What Ayame had overheard during her skulking, the guards all thought he was some sort of lap pet that had gotten loose and bitten the ‘Lady Jane’. The guards were on a mission to track him down. Scouring everywhere other than the Queen’s chambers. All Ayame had to do was slip in in disguise. Stab Jane again under the guise of inoculating her against infection. Then leave her promising that the handmaidens would be by soon to help her dress. There was enough going on, that people would see the bandage on Jane’s ankle and assume someone else had taken care of it without investigating further.

So far, that was holding true. She’d made it back to her husbands without incident. They had taken a little time to reassure themselves that she really was okay. They’d both been overprotective since she’d healed. Understandable. She was a little protective herself. She’d humour them as long they were in the field.

Steve had set Mjolnir outside. Had a serious conversation with the hammer about going back to Thor and looking after him for the next few years. Tried not to feel silly talking to a hunk of metal. Even one that felt at least semi-intelligent when it was in his hand.

Now, they were just killing time. Making sure Thor and Rocket got off alright. Ensuring that the official extraction went well. Waiting for everything to go sideways for this time’s Thor. Steve glanced at his people. Their heads together as they reviewed footage on Bucky’s Kimoyo beads. Waiting, and wishing Ayame could stay in that diaphanous gown. That he could sketch her lounging on one of the curvaceous benches that lined the garden walkways. Bucky could feed her grapes. The big carved beds were about the right size for the three of them. They could have been happy here.

Unfortunately, things weren’t that easy. If they wanted to keep their Lillypad safe, they need to keep moving. Finish returning the Stones. Make sure nothing else went wrong from their meddling.

Most immediately, avoid getting caught in the hall by the approaching guard patrol. Bucky grabbed Amy’s hand, who grabbed Steve’s in turn and the three of them tumbled around the corner together.

They came to rest in a secluded alcove. Steve pressed into the back corner, Bucky crushed to his chest, Ayame sandwiched between them. Steve wrapped his arms around them to keep them close.

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled in Amy’s chest. She shouldn’t be enjoying herself. None of this was fun. But dear gods it was good to have her boys back.

Bucky dropped his head to Ayame’s neck. He liked this dress. He knew they couldn’t steal it. But they should. She should wear more flowing things. Lots of soft drapey things that she could only wear when they weren’t in danger. “I can’t wait to take you home, baby girl.”

Steve tightened his grip on both of them. He couldn’t either. Take them both home. Let them rest for the first time in too long. And he would. Just not yet. “We’re not done.”

Amy pressed her cheek to Steve’s chest. No. They weren’t. “Soon.”

*****

Thor glanced over his shoulder. Loki was up to his tricks again. Thor had broken him out, and this was the thanks he got? Illusions of his friend out of the corner of his eye? Loki didn’t like Steve. Thor got it. He’d have a problem too if a Midgardian had thrashed him repeatedly. Of course, Steven was hardly the average Midgardian, and Loki had let his hubris get the better of him. That didn’t give him permission to be an ass now.

He cuffed his brother up the back of his head. “Be yourself for five minutes. I need your help.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He knew what his brother had seen and why he was assuming what he clearly was. He’d spotted the little Fox and her companion. He wouldn’t give either of them away. She wouldn’t be here without a good reason. He’d helped her clean up one mess. He wouldn’t hinder her on whatever quest she’d found now. As long as it didn’t interfere with his own plans. She had said fifty years, he was reasonably sure he could hurry that number along. “Clearly, I am helping. Otherwise, I would yell for the guards and be back in my nice comfortable cell.” He paused as if in realization. “You could be my new neighbour. We could play dots and boxes on the window, like when we were young.”

*****

With Asgard taken care of, there was only one Stone that needed returning. The Soul Stone. Getting it had cost too much. Steve could only hope returning it was less costly.

Amy’s coordinates put them in a small rock alcove. It wasn’t natural. Bucky would have called that even without the perfect arch carved into the back wall. The side were too steep. The lines too crisp. Everything just a little too precise and symmetrical. That arch sealed it though. Beyond the opening, a flat and level floor stretched away into the blackness. Passage walls etched with complicated interlocking designs.

“Alright.” Steve looked out across the barren plane. A desolate pockmarked wasteland scattered with waterfilled craters. It reminded him of the planet Ayame had taken him to when the Shi’ar had threatened to invade… and it reminded him of no man’s land. “Where to from here?”

“Nowhere.” Amy gripped the hilt of her sword. Starring into the void of the tunnel. She shouldn’t have brought them at all. This would have been easier if she’d done it alone. “You stay here. I’ll be back.”

She squared her shoulders. Determinedly facing the dark arch. A few minutes, and she’d take them away from this cursed place.

“Aims.” Steve caught her elbow. He’d let her do this without him last time. She’d gotten lost on the way back to him. He wasn’t losing her again.

“I can’t— Steve--” Amy’s voice broke. The name coming out as a croak. It wasn’t a matter of being difficult. It was a matter of protecting them. “On the other side… I’m dead.”

Steve pulled her into his arms. Cradled her protectively against his chest. One hand holding the back of her head. The other arm covering as much of her as possible. He knew she was. That was why he couldn’t let her go alone.

“Don’t make me show you that.” Amy shivered in his hold. She was trying to protect them. But she was also trying to protect herself. “I can’t—I can’t see you—”

Bucky fished the amber stone out of the rapidly emptying case. No. She couldn’t. And neither could Steve. “You two wait here.”

Amy caught his hand. Clinging to them both. The ground beneath her feet feeling less than stable. “I don’t want you to see it either.”

“I see it all the time, baby girl.” Bucky rubbed his thumb along her sharp jaw. Not every time he closed his eyes. But more than he cared to admit or think about. His little Fox. Glass eyed and broken. Snapped like a twig. The light of his universe snuffed out. “At least this time I didn’t do it.”

Amy felt her already damaged heart shatter. “Baby....”

Bucky kissed her forehead. He knew. They’d talk about it when they got home. After he got them both home safe. “There a catch? Or do I just set it down.”

Amy swallowed. No. There shouldn't be anything complicated. The Soul Stone wanted to return to its rest. “Put it in my hand. Make sure Clint isn’t looking. But--”

Bucky stopped her with a kiss. But nothing. She’d protected him for so long. He could protect her today. Her and their Stevie. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve tightened his grip on Amy. He didn’t love that plan either. It was better, but not by much. “Five minutes and I’m coming to get you.”

“Like I said,” Bucky kissed him too. Steve worried. But right now, the most important thing was looking after their girl. Because he wasn’t sure she could look out for herself in this moment. “I’ll be right back.”

*****

Physically, the task was as easy as that. Check the overhang for watchers. Slip out of the tunnel when the coast was clear. The target was obvious. No obstructions between him and where he needed to go. No one looking down from the precipice.

Emotionally, Bucky wasn’t ready. He’d said he was. Reassured his wife and husband that he could handle this. But the reality… There was so much blood. Sickly black, slowly spreading to engulf everything in its path.

His starlight girl.

Fallen.

Barely holding himself together, he dropped to one knee next to her body. The Stone went into her palm. Right where she’d told him to put it. He curled her cold fingers closed around it. Holding them there when they were too slack to keep it there on their own. There was a moment when he thought nothing would happen. Then the Stone shattered into fluttering sparks and blew away. Golden motes swirled around her. Not settling. Just scattering dancing lights over her broken form before they melted away into nothing.

A heartbeat, and it was over. The frosty air perfectly still.

He should go back now. That’s what Aims would want. She was waiting for him at the other end of the tunnel. Safe, whole, wrapped in Steve’s arms where nothing bad could happen to her. But she was also here. Laying in a pool of her own blood. For all appearances dead and unmoving.

He stayed on his knee. Reaching out to stroke fingertips over her face. It didn’t look like she was in pain. It didn’t look like she was anything anymore. All that fire and brightness that he’d loved for so long... “Come on, baby girl. Breathe for me.”

Waiting felt like a lifetime. Bucky didn’t move. Eyes fixed on the love of his life. Her chest stayed agonizingly still. Her jaw slack. Still, he waited. She was still there. He knew she was.

Her first breath was shaky. Ragged and shallow. Not enough to inflate her lungs. But enough for him to know she was trying.

“There’s my girl.” Bucky tucked a lock of bloodstained hair behind her ear. Little Fox was strong. She was going to make it. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

*****

Ayame’s eyes snapped open. She could have sworn she heard…

But no. It was just her brain hallucinating as she struggled back from the realms of the dead. If she wanted to hear that voice again, she needed to make it back to earth.

Which meant getting up and getting moving. She indulged in one quiet whimper. This was going to hurt.

Chapter 6: Woman With The Plan

Getting dressed had been a rather miserable experience. Peggy had managed it with a little help from Ana, but she wasn’t looking forward to reversing the process or repeating it tomorrow morning. She was trying to put that dread and irritation from her mind for the time being. Yes, Pinky and Dum Dum had made it clear they thought she should stay in bed. That wasn’t going to happen. There was far too much to do.

“Good morning, Doctor Wilks.” Peggy did her best to stride into the lab. Not an easy task with her side aching the way it was. Thankfully, her ever loyal team were here to help her. Happy followed half a step behind her. Hand going to her elbow any time she faltered. “I assume Corporal Jones explained last night’s developments?”

He had. The man had been as kind breaking the news as he could have been. But Jason would be lying if he said he wasn’t devastated. “You lost the warheads.”

‘Lost’ wasn’t the word Peggy would use. They had been out manoeuvred by an unknown player. One who had tipped their hand further than they knew with their clever little note. An error Peggy would take advantage of just as soon as they delt with their immediate problem. “The good news is, Ms. Frost isn’t in possession of them either.”

“You’re sure?” Jason’s posture shifted intently. His entire being focused on the statement and the implications if they were wrong.

“Given the mood she was in when we left, I think we can be pretty confident.” Dum Dum answered for Peggy who was clearly trying not to whimper as Happy helped her onto a tall stool beside the lab table. Pride would be the death of that woman. But he’d be damned if wouldn’t be right behind her to the end.

“For the time being I think it is prudent to behave as if she failed.” Peggy was rather proud of how unaffected she managed to sound despite the fact she had bumped the stitches on her back rather hard while getting settled. “In that case, what is her most likely next step? If she can’t exactly replicate her experiment, how close can she get?”

Jason looked at her thoughtfully. Clearly weighing the questions carefully.

Then he was gone. Not in a flash. Not visibly dead. Just gone. Vanished without even a trace. They could only hope he was invisible the way he had been at the beginning, not truly gone.

“Jason!” Peggy lurched franticly off her stool and towards where he’d been. The lancing pain in her side hardly seemed to matter. She had to do something. Not that she was at all sure what she could do.

But she’d think of something. Because he couldn’t be gone. He had to be here. She’d been talking to him a heartbeat ago.

She felt helplessly at the air where he’d been. Painfully aware that even if he was there she wouldn’t feel anything.

And then he was back. Popping back into existence as suddenly as he’d vanished. Clearly distraught, but back on their plane of existence.

“Are you alright?” Dum Dum asked with genuine concern.

“Do I look alright?” Jason spat back.

The assembled group shifted awkwardly. There was nothing they could say. ‘Buck up. You’ll pull through.’ ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing.’ ‘We’ve got this. You relax.’ All platitudes. All equally useless. They had no idea if he was going to be okay. They didn’t even know what was happening to him. Let alone how to help.

In the end it was Gabe that leaned in towards Peggy. Cap wasn’t here, but contrary to popular belief, Cap hadn’t been the one to originate fully half of their ‘brilliant’ plans. Sure, Steve had been responsible for execution. But planning? That was what they had an intelligence agent for. “What do we do?”

Peggy steeled herself. Priorities had changed. Plans needed to be adjusted. Their mystery note had just fallen to third on her priority list. Even Whitney had been knocked down a peg. She turned determinedly towards Jason. What they did was solve the unsolvable problem. “You specialise in containment. You built the unit for the Zero Matter in the first place. You can do it again.”

“It’s not the same thing.” Jason slumped in on himself. Deflating as fear and anger settled into desolation. “The Zero Matter had mass. There was something to contain. I don’t. I’m just—I’m nothing, and I’m fading.”

“Jane Scott’s tissue sample.” It was a fragile thread. But it was the one Peggy was grasping at. “You gained mass when you touched the Zero Matter in it.”

Jason shook his head. He had. Peggy’s hand on his arm was the last physical sensation he could remember. “For a second—”

“A second can be a lot of time.” Gabe pointed out calmly. Down to the wire was how the Howling Commandos worked. “Could you stabilize yourself if you had that second? With a little prep time to go with it?”

“I don’t know.” Jason answered defeatedly. If the containment unit turned on at the exact right time. If they could get more Zero Matter. If the other time hadn’t been a fluke… “Maybe.”

Resolve crystalized in Peggy’s chest. That was more than enough hope to move forward with. Despair was not an option. “Well then. The answer is simple. You design a containment unit, and we’ll get you a sample to activate it.”

“There’s still a problem with that plan.” Falsworth said without any joy. Peggy was right. It was simple. It was equally impossible. “As I understand it, all the Zero Matter on the plant is in one place.”

“With Frost.” Defeat sat heavy on Daniel’s shoulders. Wilks was their ringer. Their inside man and their technical expert. If they lost him, there was no way they’d be able get him back, or stop Frost. They’d have lost a good man, and probably the entire fight.

Peggy took a deep breath. Oder of operations. Most pressing and immediate concerns first. Stabilize Doctor Wilks. Then stop Whitney Frost. Then investigate cryptic notes from impossible sources.

“What are you thinking?” Dum Dum asked. More than a little nervous about what her answer was going to be. He knew that look. Cap used to love that look. That look used to get them shot at.

A million things all at once. But first and foremost, the beginnings of a plan. “I’ll need an evening gown, and we’ll need to modify the vacuum syringe. Mr. Jarvis can assist with infiltrating the Mr. Chadwick’s senatorial fundraiser two days from now,” Given Howard’s generous campaign contributions, getting tickets was unlikely to pose much of a barrier. “I’ll extract a sample, that will give us what we need to stabilize Doctor Wilks.” She nodded at their incorporeal friend. “Once we don’t have to worry about his continued existence, we can shift our attentions to figuring out what Ms. Frost’s next steps are going to be and how to stop them.”

“Are you kidding me?” Daniel clutched his crutch. Hoping without hope that he’d miss heard her. “It’s been less than twelve hours since you were impaled. Frost knows what you look like. She’ll be expecting you. What are you going to do when she clocks you? Run? You had to stop walking across the room.”

He had a point. She was injured and recognisable. What they really needed was an outside third party with a very specific set of skills. One who wouldn’t arouse suspicion or jealousy when they tried to get close to Whitney Frost... An idea started to crystalize in Peggy’s mind. “Falsworth? Did you happen to pack your evening jacket?”

*****

He hadn’t of course. They had come straight from the wilds of eastern front to deal with a life-threatening emergency. But that was really no matter. Monty was reasonably close in size to Mr. Jarvis. A few alterations and he’d be presentable.

The important thing was they had a plan. Admittedly, an objectively bad plan. Dottie Underwood was a menace. But she was one of the few people Peggy knew of that possessed the skills they needed. She was anything but trustworthy. But she was also transparent in her immediate motivations, if not her final goals. She had pre-existing knowledge of the council, and the risks they posed, but was in the dark as to Whitney and her plans. And sending Monty as her escort added an extra layer of security. He certainly wasn’t going to fall for Dottie’s tricks.

And just like that, they were making progress again. Working on a dozen plans at once. Slowly chipping away at insurmountable challenges until they were nice bite sized pieces. Denier and Gabe acting as Doctor Wilks hands for manufacturing his containment device. Jarvis briefing Falsworth on the guests they could expect at the fundraiser. Dum Dum, Happy, and Pinky brainstorming a plan to ‘liberate’ Dottie from the SSR holding facility. Morita scrutinizing the faux uranium rods and mysterious note for clues. Daniel supervising it all. None of them would let Peggy move from her chair in the middle of the room. But they did take her orders and asked intelligent questions rather than fretting about her delicate sensibilities. Pinky was the most agitated about her not overexerting herself so soon. Which was only reasonable. He was the team’s medic after all, and he didn’t worry over her any more than he had Dum Dum had sprained his ankle back in Bavaria. And really, a few reminders not to reach for anything at risk of popping her stitches wasn’t going to stop her being productive.

Lunch was brought into courtesy of the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis. Heaping platters of sandwiches, and a very generous tea service.

Tea helped to revive her. Helped clear the cobwebs pain had left in her mind. Peggy set down her teacup. And asked the question that had been gnawing at the back of her mind all day. The one she’d been putting off in favour of focusing on the crisis at hand. “How did you get down the elevator?”

“What?” Dum Dum asked around a mouthful of corned beef.

“The elevator at the Roxxon facility. It’s secure. Secure enough that Stark and all his brilliance and conniving couldn’t get in.” And that Peggy had been forced to resort to rather extreme ends to get in herself. Whitney would have had access to a key of her own. But Peggy’s beloved team hadn’t even known where they were headed to prepare for something like the death trap of an elevator. “So how did you?”

“Key was in the lock.” Which Dum Dum hadn’t thought was weird at the time. Why wouldn’t Peggy have left it for them? …Only Peggy hadn’t been expecting them…

“I hate bloody damn mysteries.” Peggy growled. Her bandages pulling uncomfortably as she shifted. It hadn’t been. It couldn’t have been. The key had been in her pocket the entire time. There were exactly three keys that Peggy had been able to locate. And she had looked. Admittedly, there had been some time pressure. But Peggy had still chased down all available information before settling on the rather insane option that she had. There were three in total. The one that she had ‘acquired’. The one Frost had used. And one that resided at Roxxon’s national headquarters on the east coast. Any of them going missing for any length of time would have made a significant amount of noise. Peggy had originally planned to sneak hers back into Jones’ office in the morning. It was probably too late for that now, but the cat being out of the bag didn’t explain how a third key had materialized.

It wasn’t a problem she was going to solve today. But it was eating away at her. The mystery of the purloined warheads. A worm burrowing into her brain. As soon as they stopped Frost and her plans for destruction, Peggy wad going to find out who was toying with them. She would figure out who they were. Uncover what they wanted. And turn the tables on them. She loved mysteries. Specifically, she liked solving them.

*****

As the day wore on, Daniel started to fidget. Deeply aware of the time, even if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about it. They were running out of things he could practically help with. For that matter having a little extra plausible deniability on the Dottie plan might even be a good thing. On the other hand, he was the one tenuous link all of this had to legitimacy. He couldn’t leave the rest of them to do the hard work while he... What? Swanned off to see his girl? Took her to the pictures while they played with experimental physics and plotted a jailbreak? Even the thought felt like shirking.

Peggy touched Daniel’s arm softly. She could see him fretting, and not about her. Poor dear. He hadn’t been in love during the war. He’d never learned to steal pleasure when he could. “Leave it with us. You got engaged less than two days ago. Go spend some time with Violet. Remember why we’re fighting.”

“You’re sure?” Technically, Daniel should be the final world. As section chief, he was the highest-ranking member of the SSR. He should be able to give anyone in the room an order and expect them to snap to attention. He wasn’t about to waste energy lying to himself. This was Peggy’s show. If she gave him permission to leave, no one was going to question it. Not even him.

She was sure. Violet was lovely, there was no reason they shouldn’t spend the evening being happy and together. “I’m the last person to tell you to miss out on happiness while you have it.”

That was enough for Daniel. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning. We can talk about what resources we need to borrow from the office.”

He hightailed his way out of the lab and back to his car. Already debating whether he should stop and pick up food to save Violet having to cook after her shift. Peaks was on the way. They were always fast, and Violet liked their burgers. They could picnic on the living room rug. Maybe he’d fall asleep on the couch again. Maybe she’d let him fall asleep somewhere better.

Peggy sagged heavily in her chair. She wanted Daniel to be happy. She truly did. She just… she missed when her future had looked that bright. A small, selfish part of her had thought that maybe Daniel had been interested in having that kind of brightness with her. That hope had passed as surely as a future with Steve had. Neither passing was the end of the world. There were other futures. Other possibilities. That didn’t stop it from hurting in this moment.

“You go lay down, Pegs.” Dum Dum fixed his most reassuring expression on his face. “We’ll wake you up if anything changes.”

Chapter 7: Options

The Ancient one met them at the door this time. “Everything went well I take it?”

“Seems to have.” Steve sat down heavily. Today, these past few days, time travel was a bitch, had gone as well as could be expected. Everything was back where it should be. He didn’t think they’d done any more damage at least.

Bucky dropped the nearly empty case on the coffee table. Flopping down next to Steve with a barely supressed groan. It had been a long day. But he couldn’t call it a bad day. Even with Amy’s blood staining the knee of his pants.

Amy perched herself on the arm of the couch. The easy part was complete at least. “Did you have time to consider our situation?”

The Ancient one settled into her own chair. She had. And after careful consideration, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Outside forces were unknowingly working towards the same goal. Much of the work being done for them by persons who would never know how they’d protected the universe. “Most of the Stones are well protected. As I’m sure you know. There are very few that spend long stretches of time in the possession of people who fail to understand the weight and responsibility of that possession.”

“Only one really.” Amy stared into the fireplace. The same one that had been haunting her family since before they’d become her family. If she ever met her Grandfather again, she might slap him for bringing the Tesseract to Earth.

“Two actually.” The Ancient One produced another pot of tea and filled three small cups for her guests. “Luckily for us, two of the most closely related. Nothing that can’t be fixed and monitored from the safety of Earth. The Reality Stone, or should I say the Aether, has rather a mind of its own.”

“It’s locked away.” Steve said automatically. They’d talked a lot about how and when they could get to it. Thor had reiterated over and over again that its prison was impenetrable. Ayame hadn’t contradicted him once. Neither had any of the other sources they’d been able to find.

“For the most part yes.” The Ancient one agreed. It had taken her more advanced magics to detect the anomaly. A brief, but under the circumstances concerning, blip. “But towards the middle of the last century a number of well-intentioned but rather misguided scientists decided to bend the laws of reality. Unfortunately, that was also around the time the bonds that held the Aether were starting to deteriorate.”

“What do you mean?” Ayame tensed. She could guess who the scientists were. She had some very specific thoughts on what the Americans had been doing during that period. And there was no denying the times lined up. But what the facts added up to when they were put together, she could only dread.

“I’ll admit, I don’t have all the details I might like. All I have been able to ascertain is at least part of it manages to exploit a fracture in reality and temporarily escape. I don’t believe it was the entirety of the Aether. It is more fungible when it is in its non-crystalline form. There are indications that it acted to replicate the opportunity that allowed it to break its bonds and liberate the rest of its being.”

“They’re not sentient.” Bucky had been told they weren’t sentient, and how could they be? They were rocks. They couldn’t have hopes and dreams. Couldn’t do things without the direction of an outside force.

“Sentience is less of a hard line. More of a sliding scale.” As she well knew, having lived with one for well over two thousand years. The Stones weren’t alone in falling somewhere in the middle of that scale. Dear young Ayame had interacted with some of the others herself. They were just the most relevant at the moment.

And here Steve was thinking the least comforting thing she could say was putting the Stones back wasn’t enough. “Do we know when this problem starts?”

“It starts in 1945, although it doesn’t come to a head until the fall 1947.”

That narrowed down their starting point at least. Steve tried to take it as a comfort rather than with foreboding. “And where?”

“The scientists in questions seem to have removed their ‘discovery’ to California.”

Fall of 1947 in California. Steve had heard too many of Peggy’s stories to think it was a coincidence. “Guess we’d better start there. How do we pull this off?”

Amy took a deep slow breath. Time was meaningless. The distance between now and the death of the stars insignificant on the grand scale. A single human life barely a blink of an eye. “I can do it.”

She could close her eyes. And when she opened them, she’d be safe with her boys. Their daughter safe and happy.

“Do what?” Not what Bucky thought she was offering. Because that would be insane.

“I can return the Aether, guard the tesseract, keep everything safe.” Amy said slowly. It really was the only plan. She didn’t age. She could infiltrate the necessary institutions in her sleep. There would be complications. But she was trained to deal with complications. “I’ll meet you at home.”

“No. Absolutely not. No.” Bucky couldn’t believe she was even suggesting it. It wasn’t an option. He’d left them for five years. He wasn’t leaving either of them again. Not for an hour, let alone seventy odd years.

“It’s okay, Bucky baby.” Amy soothed. This was just a part of the job she’d been raised for. She knew what she was getting into. She could handle anything, as long as they were safe. “I’ll be alright.”

Steve stared at his hands. He should have known she’d offer. She saw this mess as her responsibility. It wasn’t. All she’d done since he’d dragged her into it was try and keep things from spiralling out of control. There wouldn’t be a mess at all if not for him. They’d be laying on the couch discussing wedding plans if it wasn’t for his hubris. And still his girl was willing to give her everything to protect them from his mistake.

“No.” Bucky said again. It wasn’t a question of whether or not she’d be alright. He wasn’t even saying she couldn’t manage. She probably could. His girl was good at what she did. He wasn’t worried about ninety percent of threats. But ten percent added up over that many years. And that was just threats. There were so many things that could take her from them in that length of time. It was too long to be alone. He knew it better than anyone.

Amy cupped his cheek. She knew, and she’d miss them. But she’d also come home to them. How many others could stay the same? “Can you think of someone else who would do it for us? Someone we can trust with any of this?”

Steve closed his hand. Wedding band biting into his flesh. All the promises he’d made to keep them and the rest of the world safe sitting heavy on his shoulders. “I might know someone.”

The Ancient One stood. This was an intimate conversation. She wouldn’t impose. “I will leave you to discuss. Come find me once you’ve made your decisions.”

*****

Bucky stared up at the big ugly building. “I don’t love this plan.”

Steve knew he didn’t. He didn’t love it himself if he was being honest. It was too much like picking at a scab. Opening a wound that had almost healed. But he didn’t have a better idea, and it would work. “It’s a good plan.”

“I have another plan.” Amy offered. They hadn’t like it the first time. But if they were having second thoughts, it was still on the table.

“No.” The word escaped Bucky as a snarl. A protective wolf roaring up inside him.

Bucky rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath to resettle himself. No. He wasn’t leaving his girl alone for decades. He might not love Steve’s plan. But it would work. If they did it right, and they would, nothing about their future would change. Amy could anchor the major moments of weakness along the line, and the damn Stone would be protected the rest of the time. It would take a while, maybe a couple of months, then they’d be home. That wasn’t even what he was worried about. It was the conversation that came before all that. The one he had very deliberately avoided having for years. “Let’s just get this done.”

*****

In the end, the plan to retrieve Dottie was simple. At least it was simple compared to many of the plans the Howling Commandos had pulled off. They had Stark’s plane, they had ‘official’ orders courtesy of a typewriter and the genuine SSR stationary Daniel had lent them. Not quite enough for them to be able to just walk out with her. But enough to get them in to see her. A clip board, lab coat, and a pair of glasses turned Pinky into a respectable psychiatrist. Gabe looked perfectly anonymous in an orderly’s uniform. No one even thought to question them when they presented themselves at the entrance to the holding sight.

Pinky followed a guard down the stark hallway. Gabe a step behind him, making surreptitious chalk markings. They were going in first, but they weren’t leaving alone. If they wanted to get Dottie out with a minimum of bloodshed, they’d have to make it easy for her.

The guard opened the cell and stepped aside. “Look alive. Doctor Wexford is here to conduct a psych evaluation.”

The prisoner was an absolutely gorgeous woman. Chestnut hair pulled back in an institutional bun. Boxy grey shift dress unable to hide her curves. Big doe eyes blinking up at them innocently. If Peggy hadn’t warned them, Pinky would almost be convinced that she was in the wrong place. Forewarned and forearmed, the fact he still couldn’t catch the signs that she wasn’t just a sweet girl from the Midwest caught up in something bigger than she understood was disconcerting.

The door closed behind them with a very definitive noise. And Dottie’s whole posture shifted. The innocent act dropping away. Replaced by something sharp and predatory. Intelligence, but no empathy. And there it was. Everything Peggy had warned them about on display.

“You’re Peggy’s friends.” Dottie said before the man could begin to explain what they were doing here. She’d been reading. She recognised them. And neither of them was anything like a psychiatrist.

“We are.” No point in denying it. Whatever Dottie’s obsession with Peggy was, exploiting it could only help. “She’d like your help with something.”

“Oh, she would, would she?” Now that was interesting. Peggy had been so horribly dismissive the last time they’d talked. She’d almost started to worry she didn’t appreciate her talents. “What’s in it for me?”

“We get you out. You help us. We get the higher ups to jumpstart your extradition.” More than a fair trade, at least in Gabe’s opinion.

“That feels more like a you problem. I don’t plan on being here all that long. It takes more than six walls to hold me.” Although the idea of being able to help Peggy… of Peggy needing her so badly she’d be willing to do something as dishonourable as break her out of this pit? She could be very interested in that. At least in figuring out what was so very dire.

“Six?” Pink said involuntarily. His eyes flicking around the perfectly square room. She’d been down here for a while and according to the guards no one had really talked to her in all that time. It was possible she’d started to lose her grip on reality in that time. Given Peggy’s description, it was possible her grip hadn’t been that firm in the first place.

“We’re in a cube. Floor, ceiling, four walls.” Dottie explained patiently. “Not very bright, are you?” It was a little disappointing. Dottie had hoped Peggy would come to see her. Peggy’s friends would have been almost as good. Except they were evidently the same sort of idiots that grated on her daily.

Pinky and Gabe shared a look. Because of course the were. But who would think of it that way? What was she going to do? Escape by tunnelling out the ceiling? …It was good that they were here before she tunnelled out the ceiling. Gabe wasn’t sure about the engineering of the place. It was possible that piercing the ceiling could bring the whole place down.

Dottie waited for them to come up with some clever rejoinder. “Are you going to tell me what you need help with, or should I just guess.”

Pinky checked his watch. The others should be largely done with their distraction by now. “It’s complicated. But it involves that pin you were trying to steal. Peggy will explain everything once we’re out of here.”

It was important then. Possibly very important. Possibly ‘undermining the entire American Government’ important. General Makarov would be so proud of her. “Alright. I’m in.”

Pink had the distinct impression that they were the ones who had just walked into a trap. Which considering Peggy’s briefing had started with ‘Don’t underestimate her, I’d be almost disappointed if she didn’t out manoeuvre us at some point’, probably meant they were on the right track. He set the metallic disk they’d brought for the purpose on the end of the bed.

“What’s this?” Dottie picked up the palm sized device and turned it over in her hands. Its exact function was non-obvious. It was either for the door or for distraction. Two pieces, not one solid one. And with the tiniest lights to act as indicators on either outside face. Electric then. Short deration given how little space there was for batteries. No speakers, so it was for sonic interference. And no timer to set the delay so unlikely to be explosive.

“Peggy says you’re smart.” She’d also said not to tell Dottie what it was for. To let her work it out on her own and use that lead time to get out themselves. He stood, straightened his white coat to ensure their fiction was intact. “You’ll figure it out. We’ve got the guards. Just follow us up to the ground level. No lollygagging along the way.”

Gabe stopped. Hand poised ready to knock for their release. “Oh, and when you get out, head right.”

*****

Dottie emerged from the ‘dress shop’ that was a front for the holding facility. They had cleared a very efficient path for her. They’d also removed everything could even potentially be construed as a weapon along that path.

She turned determinedly left. And ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

The further she got from the dumpy little shop, the more the air tasted like freedom. Windows, doors, and a narrow alley flew past her.

Something sharp jabbed into the side of her neck.

And her world went black.

*****

Happy groaned. Remembering to lift with his knees rather than his back. “How long do we have before the tranquilizer in that dart wears off?”

“Six hours.” Failsworth slung the unconscious woman’s legs into the back trunk of the town car they’d borrowed for the purpose. He was glad Peggy had been right about what Underwood would do when she got out. It would just have been awkward if Pinky and Gabe had been forced to hold her while they brought the car around to their side. “We’ll have to remember to dose her again on the plane.”

Chapter 8: Relax, It’s A Party

The next thing Dottie knew, she was securely to a chair in a dressing room. Her clothes had been change. The simple practical dress she had felt so at home in replaced by an ostentatiously decadent evening gown. Her nails had been painted and her head was currently in a dryer, indicating they’d done her hair as well. She tested the bindings on her wrists. And found them infuriatingly competent. Someone who knew what they were doing had managed her. She pushed down disorientation and irritation. Both useless emotions. Instead, she focused on taking in every detail of her surroundings. Absorbing more information to exploit later.

The air blowing in her ears made it hard to pick up auditory clues, but from what she could see, she was alone in the room except for Peggy.

Peggy, who was clearly trying to talk to her. No doubt explaining her whole elaborate plan. “I can’t hear you.”

No, of course not. Because she’d stated stirring before they were done setting her hair and Peggy hadn’t wanted to dose her again and risk her oversleeping. They were on a rather tight timeline without Failsworth and Dottie arriving fashionably late. She hobbled the few steps to the dryer and flicked it off. “Sorry about that.”

“Apology not accepted.” She’d had Dottie kidnapped. It would have been one thing if they were playing cat and mouse just the two of them. But she had sent her goons to kidnap her. Hardly giving her a sporting chance to escape at all.

“Let me explain the situation.” Peggy pressed a hand to her side as she winced her way back to the dresser. It didn’t help nearly as much as she would have liked.

“Peggy! You’re hurt.” Which explained why she needed help. Dottie had wondered. But clearly, it hadn’t been a personal decision not to break Dottie out herself. It had been a pragmatic one.

Peggy winced as she picked up the necklace. She hadn’t been thinking. She should have had it closer to Dottie so she didn’t have to walk. Or had one of the other do this part. She’d forgone anything like painkillers to keep her mind sharp while up against Dottie and every step felt like being impaled all over again. On the other hand, if she’d asked, Dum Dum would have suggested she get some more rest. Leave them to tackle the briefing. Pick back up in the surveillance truck. Or better yet, wait at the house until they had what they needed. All of which sounded good on paper. Unfortunately, as much as she trusted her team, she distrusted Dottie more.

“Oh, Peggy.” Dottie took in the extent to which she was restricting her movements. Peggy wasn’t just favouring her side. She was absolutely babying it. Too low to be broken ribs. Had she been shot? Stabbed? There was the definite bulk of some hefty bandages under her shirt. “You’re real hurt.”

“Yes. I am injured. It’s quite uncomfortable. Can we get on with it?” Peggy snapped. Talking about her side, made her think about her side. And thinking about her side made her want to curl into a small ball and whimper.

“Well, you don’t have to be mean about it.” Dottie pouted. It was like Peggy didn’t want to play the game at all.

“As I was saying.” Peggy took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to let Dottie get under her skin. “We have this exquisite diamond choker. Which will complete your ensemble this evening.”

“How fabulous. I’ll be sure to repay the favour with a choker of my own someday.” And not just for Peggy. For everyone involved in this devious little plot.

“The necklace, is equipped with a tracking device.” Peggy chose not to respond to Dottie’s provocation. Largely because getting back to the chair was causing little black flecks to appear at the corners of her vision. “So that I can monitor your location at all times.” She fastened the sting of diamonds around Dottie’s neck with a very satisfying click. “If you attempt to remove the beacon. Or break a single link in the chain. You will be injected with a neurotoxin that will kill you in thirty-five excruciating seconds.”

“Oh good, she’s awake.” Monty let himself into the dressing room without knocking. No point wasting time on formalities when they had an enemy agent to turn. The good news was, Jarvis’ tuxedo fit him reasonably well. A touch long through the sleeves, but nothing they hadn’t been able to solve.

“Do we know each other?” Another fabulous English accent. Peggy was pulling out all the stops for this one. Maybe not playing the game Dottie had been expecting, but putting a lot of effort into the one she was.

“I’m you’re escort for the evening.” Monty answered without looking down at her. Oh god. She was going to try to flirt her way into manipulating him, and he was probably going to have to at least pretend to play along. He should have expected it. Undoubtedly that was half the reason Peggy thought he should be the one to take point on this. Her pouty lips were definitively not the kind of pouty lips that could talk him into anything. He still wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Lucky me.” Dottie fluttered her eyelashes at him. His cursory glance had taken her in, but without the usual appreciation. He’d be a hard nut to crack. Probably why Peggy had picked him. That was alright. Dottie could be clever as well as brash.

Monty ground his teeth. They were saving the life of Peggy’s friend and stopping a mad woman destroying the world. He’d suffer through. “You’re sure about going in unarmed?”

“If you take a gun, she’ll only take it off you.” Peggy explained for the third time.

Monty jerked his hand away from the woman on the chair. Refastening the clasp on his watch that she had been so close to undoing. Even restrained she was quick. “I see your point.”

*****

One benefit to using Stark's house as their base of operations was access to all the little bits and bobs he was working on but hadn’t perfected. Like absolutely tiny radios and transmitters. Small enough that they could be disguised in glasses and a fascinator. They were only short range, but they still meant Failsworth, and Dottie could stay in contact with the rest of the team who were waiting outside tucked into what from the outside looked like a delivery van.

Monty tucked Dottie’s hand more firmly into the crook of his elbow as they entered the ballroom. A little reminder that he was paying attention. That she couldn’t just wander off and get into trouble while they were working.

They were far from the first guests to arrive. A generous crowd had already gathered around the little tables. Mingling and mixing. Some chatting like old friends. Some obviously jockeying for political advantage. A four-piece band provided music from a small stage. Couples already filling the floor in front of them. Bright patriotic swags decorated the walls, interspersed with campaign posters, and portraits of famous club members to remind everyone of the pedigree Chadwick was working with. A great deal of money and power were on display, with more arriving behind them. And at the centre of it all, Whitney Frost and her husband. Surrounded by fawning sycophants and power brokers looking to lend or borrow some of their shine.

Tempting as it was to join the receiving line and get this over with, patience was the order of the day. Witnesses would only complicate matters. A better opportunity would present itself. The glasses that disguised his radio might help render Failsworth anonymous, but he’d still appeared in more than his share of wartime propaganda. A solid introduction and small talk held a stronger risk of discovery than he was willing to risk.

Especially given that there was at least one person here who had met both him and Dottie. A fact which had been missing from their rather hasty recognisance. “Thompson is here.”

“Thompson?” Dugan asked in his ear. “As in Thompson Thompson?”

“The very same.” Monty rather liked being able to fill the team in on the evolving situation in real time. Even if he wasn’t sure what they could do with the information. “Being shown around by some older man. Very distinguished. Everyone else seems to know who he is.”

“That will be Masters.” Sousa growled. “We should have known he’d be poking around.”

“Stay on target. It doesn’t change anything.” Peggy’s calm confidence came back to him. Absolutely unshakable. It was no wonder Steve had named her their north star. “Just steer clear and wait for your opportunity.”

Wise words. They wouldn’t rush. They’d wait and an opportunity would present itself. Which for now meant they needed to blend in with the crowd. Luckily, the dance floor had an excellent view of everything that was going on. It wouldn’t be at all unusual for a donor and his escort to take a turn or two. They’d start there then move on to the bar if they needed to.

*****

And they might need to. Three songs in and Monty still didn’t see the break in the crowd they were waiting for. Dottie was a good dancer, but a rather uncomfortable partner. Rather more like waltzing with a lioness licking her chops than he was comfortable with. It wasn’t that she resisted his lead exactly. But he could feel her testing him with every turn. Searching for his weaknesses.

“Aren’t you bored? Watching them dote on her. Fawn over him. I’m sure they’ll both be busy for hours.” Dottie tipped her head to the side. Looked up at him through her lashes. “The two of us could find something more interesting to do. Just the two of us.”

“Nice try.” Failsworth tightened his grip on her hand. Not quite enough to be painful, but enough that she’d know he was pay attention. He wasn’t about to let his attention wander, even if they had to wait all night. “I’m not going to fall for your tricks.”

Dottie fluttered her lashes. “That’s what they all say.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not most men.” Falsworth snorted. He was acquainted with the complete lack of self-control many men in positions of power displayed. How they managed to run the world when they couldn’t so much as stay focused when there was a skirt around.

Dottie regarded him coolly. He had principles. Probably a long-term love interest back home. No ring, so a fiancée rather than a wife. Unless he’d taken his ring off for the night. Which would make him smarter than she gave him credit for. Either way. It would take time to overcome his scruples. But it would probably be worth it. He was exactly the sort of man it was valuable to have leverage over.

They managed to make it all the way through another song without murdering each other. Without Frost, or her husband making the sort of move that would give them an opening either. But Monty was making an effort to be patient. The night was young. Better to wait until the party started to wind down and catch them at the valet stand than to rush and fumble an opportunity.

A couple swirled past Monty on the dance floor. The man’s deep chuckle sparking something in the back of his mind. Dancing in a very different kind of club, with a vastly preferable partner. A strong hand clapping him on the back. The distinctive voice that went with that laugh telling him he was taking off. It’s owner nodding meaningfully at a junior sergeant with delicate features and excited green eyes. Then the laugh again the next day when Monty had asked how he’d slept.

“Stay focused, Failsworth.” Dottie chided lightly. It was a little insulting that something had distracted him, and it wasn’t even her.

“I could have sworn I just saw…” Someone who absolutely couldn’t be here. The strange note for earlier had them all chasing ghosts. He wasn’t here. Just a stranger and his date, whirling away in a swirl of pale purple silk. His face tucked into her black hair.

“Monty?” Peggy asked in his ear. Stern, but concerned. “If something’s wrong—”

“Everything is fine.” Monty cut her off. And it was. Déjà vu wasn’t going to stop him doing his job. “Frost is on the move. She’s headed for the powder room.”

“I guess that’s me then.” Dottie tossed her hair lightly. Putting on her best simpering innocent face. She was very curious what all was going on here. Finding out meant getting further involved. Once she had what she wanted, she’d also have leverage.

She put a little extra sway into her hips as she walked away. A little extra temptation since he was proving such a hard nut to crack. She’d get him in the end. She always did.

He spread his attention between following her progress across the room and checking the rest of the party for anything that could turn into either a threat or an interruption. Even with the threat of the necklace, Monty didn’t entirely trust Dottie to stick to the plan. A reasonable scepticism given the warnings from Peggy.

Chief Thompson was still milling around the party. Making his way around the dancefloor towards the bar with is very clear view of the stairs that lead up to the powder room Whitney Frost was just disappearing into. With Dottie hot on her heels. If he kept heading that way, he would almost certainly spot Dottie, which would probably cause him to raise the alarm. Monty would just have to intervene.

He let his shoulders fall and joints go loose. He attended parties like this all the time. Jack got roped into even more. He knew the act. At ease and unworried, he abled up to the bar himself. Putting himself on Thompson’s right so when addressed, the man would turn away from Dottie’s incriminating figure. “Chief Thompson, what a small world.”

Thompson narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t heard about the Howling Commandos being in town. But then he wouldn’t necessarily hear. If Failsworth was here on his own time, or something over his paygrade was going on. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know” Monty shrugged disinterestedly. What was anyone doing at these parties? Certainly nothing that could be confused for treason. “Kissing the ring. Making my political voice heard.”

“Yeah, and brining Carter as your date doesn’t mean anything.” Not that Thompson could spot her just now, but he didn’t entirely believe in coincidence, and Carter had a bad habit of sneaking off to get herself into all sorts of trouble.

It certainly would have. Unfortunately, Peggy wasn’t in any condition to act as his partner in crime. “Oh? Is Peggy in town? I wish I’d known. I’m afraid my escort for the night is far less congenial. I’m not sure it’s going to work out.”

“Right. You didn’t have a clue.” And Thompson was sure he had a bridge to sell him too. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a sudden urge to secure the perimeter.”

Well, that wasn’t acceptable. It looked like Monty would have to poke the hornets’ nest a little harder. “Are you sure you want to disturb your bosses party like that?”

Thompson rounded on him. Of all the objections he’d been expecting, that wasn’t one of them. “My boss?”

“The soon to be senator.” Monty waved a hand towards a nearby campaign sign. True, he might not be the one lining Thompson’s pockets in the end, but he was of a type. They both were. “He’s always looking out for ambitious men to do his bidding. And well, if anyone has the look, it’s you.”

“I’m chief of the New York SSR. I serve the federal government.” Thompson explained slowly and clearly. He didn’t know how things worked in jolly old England. But here in America, people didn’t just go around buying public officials.

“My mistake.” Monty made sure to lace the words with a healthy dose of derision. Making it clear to anyone with ears that he was anything but convinced.

Thompson frowned. He didn’t particularly like Failsworth’s tone. It was just facts. “When he’s elected senator, Chadwick and I will work together. To protect this country.”

“Undoubtedly.” Monty replied blandly. He’d done a lot of things in his life ‘to protect this country’. Be it America or the British Empire. “Has it occurred to you that you might be in over your head?”

“Thank for the input. I’ll be sure to forget about it as soon as you’re out of my sight.” Thompson had heard enough. Maybe Carter wasn’t here causing him a new headache, but Failsworth was doing a pretty good job all on his own.

The good news was he wasn’t headed towards Dottie and Frost. The bad news was Thompson was a good sort under it all. It really was too bad he’d gotten caught up on the wrong side of all this. “Just remember it’s never too late to do the right thing.”

“The 'Captain' teach you that?” Thompson snorted derisively.

“Yes actually.” Monty kept his answer simple. The better to lend it weight. Steve had taught them a lot of things. Not the least of which was the boundless potential humans had for redemption. “He did.”

Thompson shook his head and walked away. He wasn’t going to let some holier than thou Brit get under his skin. Captain America was famously optimistic, and look where that got him. He was a realist. Yeah, there were problems in this country. But if he wanted to fix them, he had to play the game. This was how stuff got done.

Monty wished he could down the whiskey the bartender had handed him in one. But no. He was working. That was why he’d just spent several interminable minutes verbally sparing with a reasonably intelligent man who was being wilfully ignorant. An exhausting stretch of time he was never going to get back.

And yet Dottie hadn’t returned to irritate further him with tossed curls and batted eyelashes.

“How long has it been?” He asked the apparently empty air.

“Eight and a half minutes.” Came the almost instant reply in his ear. Sousa absolutely on the ball. Probably timing it all on his watch for when they eventually had to figure out how to write this up and make this palatable. No easy task given that Monty had spotted at least two members of the senate committee for national security and he wasn’t even particularly looking. “Why?”

Because that was far too long.

He pushed roughly into the powder room. Ignoring the indignant shrieks as he checked each stall. Not all empty. But none containing the women he was looking for. Tumbling back into the main room, Failsworth turned on the spot. The party a blur. No distinctive features to latch onto. No Dottie. No Frost…. “I lost them.”

“--We have to—Check— Can’t be allowed to—” Peggy’s voice was half obscured by static. The words cracked and distorted. And then entirely gone.

“Peggy? Peggy are you there?” Monty tapped at the transmitter beside his ear. Getting nothing back. Not even the static.

Wonderful. Their communications were shot too. Failsworth closed his eyes. Took a long slow breath as he attempted to smother the memory of the last time a mission had felt this out of control. Junior laying dead at his feet. Or the time before that. Another radio cutting out on Steve’s last words. Or the time before that. Bucky joking with them on the cliff side, then nothing but wind. This wasn’t like that. Things weren’t out of control. They could get everything back in hand.

He could very nearly hear that ghost of a laugh from across the room. Barnes agreeing with him. Christ, what he wouldn’t give for Barnes to be the one dealing with this mess.

Chapter 9: Who Else Can You Trust?

The existence of intact spare rooms, or rather suites of rooms, in the top floors of Stark Tower was quite possibly the best news Cap had gotten since ‘the plane crash didn’t kill you’. Although given how long it had taken anybody to mention that little fact to him, he still had mixed thoughts about the plane thing.

That might be the post battle crash talking. Food had helped. But what he really needed was a nap. And possibly some ice for his back and shoulder. It had been a rough day before Loki had decided to go head-to-head and dropped him half a dozen stories. He wanted a shower, a full night’s sleep, the maniac off his planet, and at this point, honestly, he wasn’t picky about the order.

Natasha, who he was starting to like if not trust, had gotten her hands on his civilian clothes and a clean towel. He would have loved her a little just for that. Having watched her back flip onto an alien chariot and ride it into the heart of the battle, he’d decided she was on his team from now on no matter what anyone else said. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure what ‘his team’ looked like going forward, and he was reasonably sure she’d shoot him in cold blood if she thought it was for the ‘greater good’, but he respected that. He liked to know where he stood.

Tony also had supply of tiny hotel soaps. Too small for his hand, but better than nothing when it came to getting the ash and sweat off his body. He didn’t even care if there was hot water. As long as there was water. He just wanted to be clean.

Cap groaned and let himself into his rooms for the night. And stopped dead. The rooms weren’t empty. There was a man leaning against the table opposite the door. Not just any man. Bucky. Long haired, with an edge to him that had never been there before. But there was no mistaking him for anyone else.

“Hey, punk.” Bucky rubbed his jaw. He was the obvious choice to make first contact. Ayame was a stranger to this Steve, and there was no way in hell he’d trust ‘himself’ if he just showed up claiming to be from the future. But Stevie always knew him. Always believed. “We need to talk.”

“Loki.” Cap growled. Tormenting him with his own face was one thing. But Bucky was a bridge too far. How Loki even knew what Bucky looked like was beyond him. And how the fuck had he gotten away again? Seriously, Steve was going to tear Thor and Tony a new one. They said they were good to watch him. They had said they had it under control.

“Nah. I’m me.” Bucky shifted. Leaning more of his weight on the table. Crossing arms and ankles. Not super looking forward to telling this story. His husband knew. This Cap had no idea. Didn’t even know about Hydra sticking around yet. He’d only just made it out of the ice. “Survived the fall. Zola… Zola gave me the serum. That’s what he was doing in Kreischberg. Recreating the same shit that made you. That fall… fucked my left arm and knocked me out. But I didn’t die.”

“Soviets found me. Only Hydra had already gotten to them. They did some stuff. Made me do some stuff. Stole my memories for a while. But I survived.” Bucky swallowed. Would have said that was all he’d done before his little Fox came along and gave him a future that was worth all that suffering. Now he had his people, his daughters, a life he’d die to protect. Hell, he’d do the last 70 years over for what they had.

“Prove it.” Cap hadn’t been able to breath since ‘Bucky’ had started talking. It sounded true. It all sounded so true. Bucky had been different after Austria. He hadn’t slept as much. He’d carried more. He’d kept up with Steve even when the rest of the team had fallen behind. He hadn’t wanted to admit it then. Neither of them had wanted to talk about what had happened. Not while they were still in the heart of it. “Prove you’re you.”

Bucky huffed a little half laugh. Yeah. It was still Steve. “You used to wear newspaper in your shoes. Your ma used to joke that I was an angel, she just didn’t know if I’d fallen or not. You’re 94 and you still have no fucking idea how Murder on the Orient Express ends."

Bucky looked up. He hadn’t seen that pain in his Stevie’s eyes in a long time. “It’s me, Stevie. I made it.”

Cap’s heart felt like it was crumbling. The tender muscle being crushed under the weight of Bucky’s story. Because it was him. But if it was him, then Steve had just left him. Abandoned him to the monsters he’d promised to save him from. “Why are you here?”

“Because time travel is real.” Amy crossed the room with long confident strides. The Eye of Agamotto hanging heavy under the front of her shirt. The hall and elevator were clear. No one was going to interrupt them.

“You got me out. Soon as you found out they had me. Brought the whole damn thing crashing down.” Bucky pulled Ayame in against his side. Tension made her stiff. He doubted he’d get to feel her all soft and malleable against his side until this was all over. It was going to be alright. Cap would help. Then the three of them could go home. “Found me my Aims.” Bucky kissed Amy’s temple. The thing he was most grateful for. But he had a brain thing, so other people could disagree. “Saved the world. And now… You can go back, Stevie. You can have it all. Peggy, the white picket fence, all of it. Leave this shit behind and have the life you always talked about.”

This was some sort of joke. It had to be. Just a cruel joke. It had to be. Because otherwise…. “It can’t be that simple.”

Amy shifted. It was simple. Or at least, his part was. She'd have to work some magic on her side to close off the loop cleanly. And it wasn’t entirely simple. “You can go back, but Captain America needs to stay in the ice. And we need you to protect the Tesseract. Stop anyone interfering with it. Watch for anomalies in the timeline. Otherwise… well, it could be bad. The universe dissolving bad.”

“Is that all?” Cap’s jaw twitched. Carrot and stick. He could have it all. But if he slipped up, he’d kill them all. “I’m just supposed to know what’s an anomaly and what’s not?”

“You’ll know.” Bucky snorted. Amy had told them the threat wouldn’t be subtle when she’d conveyed her grandmother’s ‘warning’. Now that he’d seen it for himself… Yeah. Stevie would know.

“And this half of the timeline?” Cap wanted it. He wanted it bad. Wanting it was why he didn’t trust it. They were from the future, they wanted him to go back. There had to be a reason.

“You can do both. We can make a copy of you. He won’t remember this part. He’ll stay here. Look after the next few years the way only you can. You’ll go back, look after the Tesseract the same way.” Bucky’s little girl would still have her papa, his wife would still have her Taii. And Stevie would get to grow old with Peggy, just like he wouldn’t shut up about during the war.

Amy rubbed Bucky’s neck. Letting a single spark of calm love flow into him. They’d be okay. Their Steve wasn’t going anywhere. Tomorrow they’d wake up with him wrapped around them both. That little worried frown he got in his sleep begging to be kissed away. “We wouldn’t ask if it would endanger the future.”

Cap looked between the two of them. Bucky happy and alive. Married to a beautiful woman who apparently adored him. And he could be just as happy with Peggy. It was too good to be true. Which was why he didn’t trust it. There was a catch, they just hadn’t gotten to it yet. “I think you’d better start at the beginning.”

*****

That was a pretty big catch. Several big catches really. He understood why they’d been avoiding telling him. He wanted to say he was glad he knew. Forewarned was for armed. But honestly, it might have been easier to pull off blind. The worst part was it all made sense. Brutal, painful, sense. Especially when they called in the other him.

He looked between the three of them. A determined and united front. 'Amy', with her hand still on Bucky’s shoulder. Face a smooth impassive mask. Bucky, shadowed in a way he hadn’t been when they were young together. The arm wrapped around his wife’s waist made of jet-black metal. And his future self. Older, scared, but he thought happier than he was now. “So we…”

Steve looked at his people. Beautiful, and brilliant. So much more than he could ever have hoped for when he’d first woken up. “Yeah.”

Cap swallowed. That on its own would be enough to leave his head reeling. Bu that wasn’t even the big revelation. Not really. “And if I don’t…”

“We have other options.” Amy supplied gently. She wouldn’t pressure him. They were asking a lot. If he wasn’t in this 100 percent, it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Bad ones.” Bucky’s fist closed around a handful of her gi jacket. They weren’t leaving her alone for 70 years. Whatever else happened, he wasn’t abandoning his little Fox.

"We'll make it work." Steve set a hand on Bucky's knee. And they would. Maybe not Amy's plan exactly. But they'd find away. "It won't be as easy, or as clean, but we'll make it work."

Steve held his breath. Hoping he knew himself as well as he thought he did. If he agreed, they still needed to convince Peggy. A thousand intricate moving parts. And if any of them misaligned or broke… It wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d agree. So would Peggy. This was going to work.

Cap leaned forward on his knees. It wouldn’t be easy. But for that future... For the one he could have with Peggy… It would be worth it. “When do we start?”

*****

Starting was easy. Ayame, withdrew a heavy pendant from inside her jacket. The matte gold eye glowing softly in the overhead lights. She drew a hand across the surface, the overlapping grates shifting to reveal the luminous green stone inside. She focused her attention, concentrating on peeling their time away from the main line’s flow and folding it back on itself. Not shifting the period, yet, but breaking them away so their Steve could continue on his journey towards them.

Steve’s arm went around her, anchoring her in this time and place. The energy that flowed through them tempered, nothing like the power of the Stones combined, but still intense. He closed his eyes. Focused on the very specific universe Ayame was aligning. He knew exactly what he’d done when he’d turned in for the night. Remembering it now would only reinforce Ayame’s work.

Cap shivered. The ghost of his other-self breaking away disorienting. He watched a semi-transparent version of himself walk into the room exactly the same way he had. Only this time there was no waiting Bucky. He dropped his shield. Shed his uniform. Threw his clothes on the bed. Groaned at his creaking muscles as he made for the waiting shower.

The phantom faded as his door closed behind them and the one in this world didn’t. Cap could feel the shift. It was subtle. But it was there. An anticipation in the air. As if even the air knew they were in limbo.

Steve sank onto the edge of the couch. Glad the Bucky was there to take over supporting Ayame.

Bucky’s little Fox had gone all fragile again. A very subtle tremor running just below her skin.

“You good?” He whispered into her hair. He was pretty sure she was. He could feel her heart already slowing back it its normal steady rate.

“I’m alright.” Ayame reached for Steve. Love and relief filling her when he folded his hand between his and kissed her knuckles. How could she be anything but in this moment?

Bucky kissed her temple. As if she’d say anything else. His sweet stubborn girl. He’d keep an eye on her for the rest of the day. On both of them. “Let’s get ready to do this thing.”

*****

The scissors Ayame had in her bag were small, but they sharp. Not the most efficient tool for cropping Bucky’s hair to a reasonable length for their visit to the past. But they’d get the job done. Ayame measured another section between her fingers, careful to keep it even.

Bucky sighed and leaned into Ayame’s hands. His hair was too long to blend in where they were going. He knew that. That didn’t stop cutting it from being a shame. He loved when Ayame played with his hair. She was leaving it long enough to get her fingers into, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Amy flicked his ear. “Sit up straight. You’re going to end up uneven.”

“Can’t have that.” Bucky purred, but didn’t shift his posture. Instead, he wrapped a hand around Amy’s thigh. Pulling her in until she was sitting in his lap. He nudged her nose with his. Not kissing her. But breathing in the same air. Reassuring himself that the tremor in her muscles really was gone. That she was strong and healthy again. That the fallen angel only in his memories. “Got to look presentable for my Empress.”

*****

They were in love. Cap could see it even through the narrow gap left by the half open bathroom door. Smiling and moving around each other as naturally as breathing. Bucky had never been like that with a girl. He’d been loud. Gregarious, romantic, but never quietly at ease. He’d always tried. With her, he was… himself. Relaxed and at peace. The way Cap remembered him when they’d lived together before the war. This was a Bucky he could picture falling asleep on the couch. Whistling in the kitchen. He’d obviously been through a lot. But he was happier than Cap had ever seen him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Bucky was happy. Apparently, he was happy. And now he got to have the life with Peggy he’d missed out on. It was the definition of having his cake and eating it too. All he had to do was put the work in. “I need a new name. Captain America needs to stay in the ice. Which means Steve Rogers can’t just go back to his life like nothing happened.”

Steve nodded. He’d been thinking about that. About how hard it would be to lose the name his mother had given him and what might soften the blow. “Aims has a plan to get you all new documents.”

“You pick a name?” Cap raised his eyebrow. Sure, this guy was him. And talking to him felt like picking his own brain. But names were personal thing. What people called you… it mattered. He never would have gotten away with half the shit he did if they hadn’t started calling him Captain America fist.

“I’ve got some thoughts. But nothing’s set in stone.” Steve hesitated. The given name was easy. It was his grandfather’s. His mother had given it to him along with Steven, even if people forgot most of the time. He’d answer to it, and it still felt like him. The surname was trickier. He had one in mind, but he’d be the first to admit it was a pretty modern notion. … and he had no idea how Pegs would take it. “Grant. Grant Carter.”

Cap rubbed his jaw. He didn’t hate the idea. And it was an indelible connection to Peggy. If she did agree to take him back, it would raise eyebrows. If she had the success he knew she did in this time line, people would think he’d taken her name. They’d ask who wore the pants in their relationship. Cap glanced back at the couple in the bathroom. “Would you take hers?”

“Ayame’s?” Steve thought about it. Steve Winters. Steve Kitsui. If she had asked him? If that had been what it took to be with her these past few years? If it wouldn’t have caused an international incident? “In a heartbeat.”

He wouldn’t be Captain America when he went back. And Peggy would still be her brilliant self. People were going to ask who wore the pants either way. He’d always thought that was a stupid question. Dames looked great in pants. “I think I’d be a good Carter.”

Chapter 10: Party Crashers

Getting cornered by security on her way out was less than ideal. Dottie was especially irritated that they had managed to corner her on the second floor. Up and out was supposed to avoid this sort of thing. But no. This was another Carter mess, which meant nothing could be easy. The security couldn’t even go down easy. Not that any of them managed to land a strike on her. That would just be embarrassing. But all of them took multiple blows to immobilise.

It took her an infuriatingly long time and a broken window. But eventually, she was the last one standing, or rather crouching, in the hallway. No more threats. No more chaos. Just her and the peace that followed a fight.

“Pretty thing you’ve got there.” A silky voice broke into the fragile stillness. A Fox detaching herself from the shadows. Black hair twisted up and secured with a hair stick that had to be a stiletto blade, signature purple eyes flashing. “I’ll trade you for it.”

Dottie suppressed a sneer as she straightened up. She’d been warned about these women. Lap dogs of the Japanese Imperial family. Not without skills, but spoilt, and that made them weak. They expected the whole world handed to them on a platter rather than having to fight for it. “You’ll trade me? For something so special that the estimable Peggy Carter was willing to break me out of jail to get it?” Of course, this pampered pet thought all she had to do was bat her eyes to get what she wanted. “What could you possibly have that I’d want that badly?”

The Fox’s lips curled up as she picked her way around an unconscious body. The pleated skirt of her gown offering her far more range of motion than Dottie had in hers. Which could be an issue if this came to a fight. “A secret.”

“You know a secret worth this?” Dottie wiggled the syringe at her. Not that she was entirely sure what ‘this’ was. Although based on what she’d seen in the board room, she could make some educated guesses. It was definitely valuable.

“Oh, it’s worth so much more than that.” The Fox’s eyes sparkled.

Dottie could understand why they always got their way. How hard would it be to replicate that look? It just begged for the audience to fall at her feet.

She leaned in until she could whisper in Dottie’s ear. The words of the secret delivered in beautifully lyrical Russian. It sounded like a fairy tale at first. Like the pretty propaganda stories her government had told during the war. But the details all fit. And evidence built on evidence. It all made a certain painful sense.

Slowly, Dottie’s eyes lit up. Understanding of what the Fox was saying dawning on her. Not just what had happened. But what her government could do with it. “It’s really him?”

The Fox nodded once sagely. Confidence radiating off her. This wasn’t just something she had heard. This was something she knew. “And it will really work. At least once certain… elements,” the Fox stressed the word meaningfully. “Are borrowed from the Americans.”

Dottie made up her mind. If they could have a hero of their own… If she could be the reason they had him… She needed to get back to Russia…. And then she needed to get Doctor Ivchenko back to Russia too. She turned on her heel. Headed straight for the exit farthest from where Peggy and her little band of merry men were waiting.

Leaving the other woman holding the syringe. More than a fair trade.

*****

Falsworth dragged himself up another set of stairs. He’d checked every public room in the hotel. Narrowly managed to avoid some very pointed questions about his presence from Chief Thompson. Who really should be in New York rather than here, rubbing elbows and complicating their plans. Scoured the east wing. Almost gotten caught scouring the east wing. Heard a ruckus that sounded distinctly like combat which had cut off while he was still two floors below. And there was still no trace of Dottie or Frost.

At least this floor showed signs of the fighting he’d heard. Smashed furniture. A broken window. And incongruously, a woman in full evening dress standing in the midst of it all. As unconcerned as if she was standing in the ballroom downstairs rather than all this chaos. For that matter, Falsworth was pretty sure he had seen her downstairs. When he had heard the laugh? That pleated lavender silk was so distinctive.

She smiled warmly. Even as he approached with caution. “Lieutenant Falsworth. Lovely to see you.”

Monty’s eyes snapped to the object in her hand. Not a cigarette holder. Their syringe. “Have we met?”

“Not yet.” She rolled the metal cylinder around her fingers. Keeping Monty’s attention on what mattered. “But we have mutual friends.”

Vague. Mysterious. More than a little threatening. Monty really missed when Peggy was the only woman he knew who could pull off that particular combination. “I don’t suppose love of whoever those mutual friends are would be enough to convince you to give me that syringe?”

“Depends.” She looked at him through her lashes. Eyes absolutely sparkling with intelligent mischief. “What are you planning to do with it?”

Given how much she obviously knew, lying was likely pointless. Simple honesty felt like the best course of action. If they really did have a mutual friend, hopefully whoever she was, she’d be sympathetic. “We need it to save a friend.”

“I should have known you’d have a good answer.” She tucked the syringe into his breast pocket with a loving pat. “You should get moving. Don’t worry about Frost catching D26. I’ll take care of it later.”

And with that deeply uncomforting sentiment, she was gone. Falsworth swore he’d only blinked, but there wasn’t even a trace of her in the hall. “Well. Fuck.”

*****

Daniel pressed futilely at the button on his microphone. Hoping that this time he’d at least get static. The last thing that had come through had been Falsworth losing track of Dottie. They had a Soviet assassin in the wind. Some hopefully unrelated agitation from Chadwick’s bodyguards. And the party was starting to break up, which meant there was too much traffic through their ‘out of the way’ alley for them to get up on the roof and see if their communications issue was there. He really wanted socialites walking by to be their most immediate issue. But no. Peggy had lurched to her feet when everything had started to go wrong and had managed to pop her stitches in the excitement. She was bleeding, Morita had sliced his hand on the radio case, and Daniel couldn’t come up with a single useful thing he could do in this moment.

A strange and jarring noise broke into Daniel’s panic. The sound of someone pounding on the back door of the van. Two hard pounds from a fist, followed by… a three-note whistle? Which didn’t make any sense. He’d accept someone knocking on the van. Getting found out would just be par for the course tonight. It wasn’t like they could just ignore it and hope it went away. They hadn’t exactly been quiet the last few minutes. Shutting up and acting like no one was home now wouldn’t convince anyone to go away. Someone had to answer and assess exactly how bad it was. The last bit of him that was an optimist hoped it was just a valet curious why they’d been parked there all night.

With the five of them crowded into the small space, there was no room for him to maneuver with his crutch. Bracing himself between the counter and the low roof, he hopped to the door and unlatched it.

Bucky smoothed the front of his tuxedo and checked his gloves were secure as he stepped into the back of the van. “Sorry I’m late. Needed to stay out of the way while D26 was in play.”

And he’d had to do something about the bodies she’d produced while he was at it. Couldn’t have unconscious guards laying around when all the pretty people started leaving their party.

Daniel looked around the rest of the crowded van. Peggy with her shirt hiked up. Pinky pressing a new dressing to her stomach. Morita fiddling with the radio trying to get their connection back. Or they had been. Right at the moment all of them were frozen. Staring at their surprise visitors, mouths agape, complexions pale. Like they had all seen a ghost and weren’t sure what to do about it.

Dugan was the one who said what they were all thinking. “What the fuck?!? ”

A fair question. “I’ll explain once we’re all together.” Bucky checked his watch. The night was ticking on, and they had a lot of balls in the air. “How far out do you think Monty is?”

*****

Not far as it turned out. He crashed his way into the van less than five minutes later. It was an awkward five minutes. Dum Dum repeated his question, in a strangled whisper. Morita gaped at him silently. Peggy opened her mouth to ask a question at least seven times, but thought better of it every time.

Bucky perched on the edge of the little counter. Walking his knife around the gloved fingers of his left hand and allowing himself to be inspected. Let them find all the little tells that made him him and not the weapon. It would be easier for them than it had been for Steve. He’d found more of himself. He could talk freely. Plus, his hair was the same as it had been when they’d known him.

Monty was more than a little irked as he scrambled into the back of the van. First communications, then the mystery woman, then he’d had to dodge security all the way out of the hotel, all of which were small irritations in the face of their worst disaster. “Underwood got away.”

“She got picked up by Frost actually.” Bucky twirled his knife on a fingertip and made it disappear back into his sleeve. Things were going to plan. “Give her twenty-four hours and she’ll be out and on her way to Russia.” Or dead. Either way. Aims thought she’d be a useful ally with the Winter Soldier program, Bucky wasn’t fussed one way or the other. Once Zola found out he was alive, he’d do what he needed to do to complete his experiments. “We’re keeping an eye on her in the meantime.”

“Fuck.” Monty punched the wall of the van. The sharp pain through his knuckle feeling almost good. Like something he deserved at least. A murderous spy was on the loose and it was his fault.

Then the voice that had delivered the information broke into his mission focus. His head snapped up and he was staring directly at a grinning face he was sure he’d never see again. “Fuck.”

“Always eloquent, Monty.” Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. The guy was allowed to be shaken. Hell, Bucky had spent two years on the run because he couldn’t handle it. He glanced over his shoulder at Dugan. “You ready to get out of here? We need to get Wilkes stable and talk next steps.”

Bucky looked around. He might be forgetting how weird his life had gotten. Stevie was practically getting used to people coming back from the dead, he and little Fox did it so often. But then, Peggy and the others hadn’t even faced off against aliens yet. “I’ll drive?”

Chapter 11: A More Stable Situation

Peggy wasn’t at all surprised when Dum Dum started filling Bucky in on their night so far. Nor was it astonishing that Monty and Morita joined him. It was instinct. What they always did when they reconvened. Fill in 'Cap', 'Sarge', or her, depending on the circumstance, get more minds on solving whatever problem they were encountering. She couldn’t even summon shock at the fact that Daniel had been struck dumb by his arrival. She wanted to feel relieved herself. It was an active struggle not to relax and let their beloved sergeant take over the details while she went back to focusing on the big picture. It was such a temptation. To fall back in, the sergeant in the centre. Like it was just another day on the front. Steve waiting for them to catch up somewhere. Not a problem in the world they couldn’t solve if they put their minds to it.

Peggy didn’t trust it. She grabbed Monty by the arm as they all dismounted from the van. Drawing him aside under the pretense of needing someone to lean on. She let the others get ahead of them. Not wanting them, especially Barnes, to overhear. “You know him better than the rest of us. Is it him?”

“Not than all of us.” Steve would have known in a heartbeat if he was real. Looked him in the eye and just known. Monty shook his head. Cap wasn’t here. It didn’t even entirely make sense that Bucky was here. Assuming it really was him. “It looks like him. And it sounds like him. With everything else that’s happened this week…” It wasn’t the craziest thing Monty had ever heard. Close. But not quite.

He had a point. Barnes was one of the few people who could have written the note that had flustered her so. He'd forged Steven's signature more than once when they'd needed it for a report and the captain had been unavailable. Steve had probably told him her birthday. They told each other everything. “Do you think you can find out?”

Monty nodded. He wasn’t sure how. But he’d get them the confirmation they needed.

*****

Bucky made a point of not being at the centre of the lab’s activity. Deliberately isolating himself at the end of one worktable to review the notes Denier had been working on all night. He’d clocked the exchange between Peggy and Monty. Really, it was only the urgency of the situation that had gotten him this far without an interrogation. He’d give Monty a chance to feel him out before they dropped another bombshell.

The others had gotten a lot done while the away team had been busy. Everything had been cleared out of the middle of the room. Tables and equipment replaced by a copper and rubber construction the size of a phone booth. Thick pipes bent into ovals and circles like something out of Metropolis. Even now, Denier was working on finishing the arched canopy. Polishing out the forge marks until it shone.

It wasn’t Bucky’s area of expertise, but from what he could see it looked good. In an ideal world, he’d have Shuri, or at least the younger Stark, take a peek and see if they could spot any flaws. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t be born for twenty-three and fifty-one years respectively. As long as all the connections were solid, and they could regulate the power surge. Which he was sure they could. They’d gotten the Tesseract energy generator restarted in Trondheim. This at least ran on standard electricity.

Monty sidled up to the recently rematerialized sergeant. Leaning casually against the table beside him. Certainly, he was the right height. Although he carried himself a little differently than he had before. A very slight lean to the left.

Bucky nudged his shoulder familiarly. “How’s Jack? You two officially roommates now that the war‘s over?”

“We are.” Falsworth remembered the night he’d confessed how much he wanted to properly live with his love. Holed up in a half-burned chalet in Bavaria, tipsy on pilfered schnapps, feet thrown up on a fur covered ottoman, gushing to one of the few people he could. Barnes had laughed with him. Told him how much he hoped he found that someday. Monty had tried to ask about the unspoken thing between him and the Captain again. And hadn’t because Jacques had come crashing down the stairs for his watch and interrupted. “It’s tight with so many flats gone in the blitz. But we’re both away for work most of the time anyway.”

Bucky smiled. That was good. Not the never being home at the same time. But the being together part. They deserved it. “As long as he’s a better roomie than Stevie. Don’t let him get away with leaving his socks laying around and claiming you’re the messy one.”

Jack certainly was a better ‘roommate’ than Steve had been. Neither of them were pining uselessly for one thing. Which did lead in rather nicely to the first of Monty’s probing questions. “What ever happened with you and Jack’s friend? The blond one.”

“Monty.” Coy was cute on Amy, but most other people couldn’t pull it off with the same grace. This wasn’t being deliberately mysterious. This was beating around the bush. George had been cute, but Bucky had a rule about blonds and Monty knew it. “If you’re trying to figure out if I’m me or not, just ask.”

“Fine.” Monty straightened his spine. Barnes had always maintained that he was a simple creature. Monty wasn’t sure that was true, but that didn’t mean direct was the wrong tact to take. “Is it really you?

Bucky clapped him on the back of the neck. “It’s really fucking me.”

A simple and direct answer. Exactly what Bucky would have said during the war. But not exactly hard to fabricate. “Why should I believe you?”

Bucky leaned in close. The same reason Bucky had believed a lot of things since he woke up. “Because if I was making shit up, I’d pick something less fucking insane."

That… was a very good point. “Do you know why someone called us here?”

“One thing at a time, Monty.” They were going to be throwing things at the team hard and fast over the next couple of days. The least they could do was ease them in. “You have any idea how this thing works?”

*****

It took them another few hours' solid work to get the machine up and running. They didn’t have enough Zero Matter for a true test run. But three dry runs proved that the machine at least was running smoothly. The engine spun up. The stabilisers rotated in their tracks without catching or grinding. The vaporiser turned the ice they were using as a stand-in to steam with an only slightly spooky glow. The dials tracking voltage and temperature stayed comfortably out of red.

“Alright.” Wilkes reviewed the finished machine. Checked everything he could think to check. And failed to find anything else he could think to change or improve. It was happening. It was really happening. “We’re ready.”

It didn’t feel like an official enough pronouncement for the moment. Peggy was reminded of Doctor Erskine's beautiful words before Steve’s procedure. The stakes that day had been high. The whole outcome of the war hinging on Steve’s then slim shoulders. Today they felt even higher.

What Peggy wouldn’t give to have Steve, or Erskine, or Stark to help her bear the weight. It felt odd not to add Bucky’s name to the list. And even odder that she found herself truly trusting the man who had come crashing back into their lives. She shot a look at him now, seeking reassurance that they were making the right choice. And receiving the tiniest nod in confirmation.

She snapped to attention. Of course, this was going to work. She’d never let it do anything else. “Daniel, stand by that fire extinguisher. Dugan, Happy, start the generator. Denier, take your position. Gabe, notes. Monty, pass me that syringe.”

It had been years since Peggy had worried about the Howling Commandos following her orders. They didn’t disappoint her now. Even the members of the team she hadn’t given direct orders found ways to make themselves useful. She surveyed the activity thoughtfully, keeping an eye out for any loose ends and finding none. The generators started. The engine began to spin up.

And it was running.

The lights flashed an unnerving purple. The wavelength designed to help stimulate Wilkes' atoms into alignment as they gained mass. The whir settled into a rhythmic pulse. A consistent circling round in time with the lights. Steady, just the way it was supposed to be.

Peggy took her place at the side of the machine. The syringe heavy in her hand.

Denier swung the door open. Only wincing a little at the eerie noise the field produced when interrupted. It was probably unnecessary. Wilkes wouldn’t have anything like physical form, let alone permanent physical form, until the Zero Matter was introduced.

With a single swallow to steel himself, Jason stepped inside the booth. He flinched when Denier jammed the latch into place with an unpleasant metallic clunk.

Everyone else moved back. Stepping into the shadows and away from the active portion of the machine.

Except Barnes, who stayed leaning calm and unworried against the closest work bench. He looked completely unfazed. Still wearing a tuxedo. Gloved hands resting lightly on the edge of the counter. It was oddly reassuring. The fact that this man the others all so obviously respected wasn’t concerned about the possibility that it would all blow up in his face.

Wilkes reached towards Peggy through the side of the machine. This was why the sides of the compartment had openings. The Zero Matter needed to start outside. Once it was inside him, and by extension the field the machine was generating, it wouldn’t be able to alter its form anymore. And neither would he. He’d be stable and corporeal.

At least in theory.

He met Peggy’s eyes. Comforted to find trust, if not overwhelming confidence there. If she was scared, it was only a healthy level of concern for what this would feel like for him. Probably a fair concern. He had no idea what it would feel like, but his money wasn’t on kitten hugs and butterfly kisses.

Peggy held her breath as she depressed the plunger on the syringe. Three sharp needles extended beyond the safety housing. The thick ooze already bubbling beyond the tips. Moving almost sentiently towards Jason’s outstretched hand.

The stream of viscous liquid hit his palm. Pooling for a second. Then sinking in. Spiderwebbing along his veins as it disappeared deeper in.

Jason pulled his hand back. Something was happening. He didn’t know what. But something.

His eyes went black, and he crumpled in on himself. Shaking all over. He fell to his knees unable to breathe.

His hand hit the floor…

His hand hit the floor. Jason pulled in a ragged gasp of a breath. He was touching the floor. Not just holding his body in approximately the right position. He was leaning his whole weight on his hand. He had a weight to lean. He stared at his splayed fingers in disbelief. It had worked.

A hysterical laugh escaped him as he stood. It had worked. He stepped into the open air. And he still felt… physical. Exhausted. Absolutely starving. But solid. Intact. Real in a way he hadn’t been in weeks.

Denier beamed victoriously. Holding out his hand. “Content de te voir, mon ami. *”

Jason had no idea what he’d said. But he wholeheartedly agreed. Even more so when he shook the man’s hand and actually shook it. Didn’t pass through. Palm hit palm. Fingers squeezed his hand firmly.

Peggy pushed past Jacques and hugged Jason unreservedly. She might have kissed him if her team weren’t here. “Welcome back, doctor.”

“Thanks,” Jason whispered. Throat tight. He meant it for everything. For believing in him. For not giving up. For helping him find a way back and never letting him lose hope. “It’s good to be back.”

It was a champagne moment, but given that it was almost five in the morning, coffee was more appropriate. Mr. Jarvis went around the group, pouring coffee and offering cream and sugar. Rather glad to be back doing his normal job. Spy craft was all very exciting, but it did leave one terribly worn out.

There was laughing, joking. Dum Dum pulled out his flask to make their coffee a little more celebratory. Pinky produced a pack of cigarettes to share.

Daniel would be the first to attest to how glad that he was Wilkes wasn’t a ghost anymore. “What are we going to do about Underwood?”

“Told you,” Bucky took a long inhale on the smoke Pinky passed him. God, that was good. Aims would probably kill him when she found out. But that familiar burn felt good. “We’ve got eyes on her. It’s under control.”

Peggy exchanged a quick look with Falsworth who nodded in brisk conformation. This was Barnes. And she trusted Barnes with more than her life. “We’ll count it as settled for the time being.”

Only for the time being, mind. She’d interrogate both Barnes and the statement herself once they were sure Jason was truly stable and Frost wasn’t about to incinerate them all with some poorly planned experiment. Or anyone else did. “For now, let’s focus on locating the warheads that wandered off on us.”

Bucky was forgetting things. In his defence, there was a lot going on for him too. “We’ve got those, too. They’re safe.”

That was the second time in the last five minutes that Bucky had mentioned working with others. In this new world of secret societies and conniving manipulations, she found the idea deeply uncomfortable. He’d vanished for years, absolutely broken the strongest man she’d ever met in the process, and now he was back with mysterious partners and even more mysterious motives. “Who is ‘we’ exactly?”

Yeah, Bucky had been waiting for that question. Honestly, it was a testament to how distracted Peggy was that she’d held off this long. He was here to ease the team into their new reality. But really, there was only so much easing he could do.

The sound of the doorbell ringing broke in before he could answer.

Daniel froze. Who could be here at this time of night? Thompson? Masters? Frost? Or was he catastrophising? Stark had odd friends. Maybe one of them had just forgotten he was out of town and stopped by for midnight revels.

Bucky checked his watch, and stubbed out his cigarette. Right on time. “The butler going to get that, or should I?”

Notes:

*Good to see you, my friend.

Chapter 12: The Last Person You Expect

Bucky smiled as Steve finally joined them. Not his Steve. His Steve was in France making contact with a forger good enough to create a new identity. He wasn’t the one who needed to reconnect with Peggy anyway. Bucky would just have to live with only having one of his loves in his bed for a couple days. An unfortunate sacrifice. But trivial in the scale of what they were asking. ‘Grant’ was still a welcome sight. A friend to back him up when he said things that made the others stare.

The rest of the room went still. All of them frozen in shock. Jaws dropped.

Grant nodded to the men in recognition. If they were going to pull this off, they’d need the people that knew him best on board. Sousa was an ally too. Grant distantly remembered him from that mess in Bastogne. Which meant he could vouch for the back story they’d come up with. At least if he’d agree. Bucky’s wife claimed to have a plan if the others objected. Grant didn’t want to find out what it was. Not with the way Bucky and the other him reacted every time she alluded to it. He didn’t know the other two men in the room. But the team seemed to trust them and that was enough for now.

None of the men were the most important person in the room anyway. There was one person he was here to see when it came right down to it. One person who could make or break this plan. Whose opinion and involvement mattered over all the others. Whose absence the last month had broken his heart.

“Hey, Pegs.” Grant smiled at her shyly. He felt better just seeing her. What he wouldn’t give to have her throw herself into his arms in welcome. He would also completely understand if she slapped him.

“Oh my God.” Wilkes would say something had gone wrong with the procedure and he was hallucinating. Only everyone else seemed to see him too. “You’re—But he’s—Aren’t you?”

“Of course, he’s not.” Peggy said it with more conviction than she felt. Fear and pain squeezed her heart. He couldn’t be. Because if he’d been alive this whole time… He would have come back to her. She knew he would.

He was a convincing fake though. Better than any of the body doubles they’d tried during the war. They’d gotten the bump on his nose right. Although, there was stubble on his cheeks and Steve had stayed meticulously clean shaven even in the field. To the point that she had teased him about it. Told him women didn’t mind a little bit of roughness against their skin. He’d growled, nuzzled and kissed her neck. Promised her that if she wanted him to grow a beard, he would. Just as soon as they didn’t need him on camera all the time.

Grant took a step closer to her. Her eyes were hard. She was hurt. She didn’t want to believe that he’d stay away if he’d been alive. And he wouldn’t have. He’d come back to her as soon as he’d been able to. It had just taken him a while to find a way back. A very roundabout way. “It’s me. Peggy. You know it’s me.”

It sounded like him too. That same sweet softness that had won her over from the start. Impersonators always got that wrong. They thought he was loud and brash. When really, he’d been so gentle. A better imitation didn’t make this any less disrespectful to Steve’s memory, or any less cruel to her. “Prove it. You say you’re him. Prove it.”

That was his Peggy. Something seemed impossible. She wanted facts and evidence. Once she had them, her incredible faith would kick in. “I brought you to Regensburg for an active mission, not just to translate papers we had already acquired. You infiltrated the Commandant’s office and were the only reason we got our hands on the train schedule that let us take Zola.”

“An open secret,” Peggy scoffed. Maybe it wasn’t what they’d written in the official reports. But it was definitely whispered around dinner tables and in smoking rooms all across London in the last months of the war. She was sure all of London and two thirds of Washington knew by now. This man knowing it didn’t prove anything.

Alright. He could go more personal. Grant took another step closer to her. The rest of the world rendered irrelevant by how close he was to having the love of his life back.

“You have a pair of scars on your left shoulder.” Grant could picture them. The two perfect circles that he’d drawn infinity symbols around during the precious night he’d spent with her in his arms.

“That is in my file.” Easy enough to look up if you were researching her. Not to mention that they were often on display when she was in evening dress. Daniel had noticed them and look how much trouble that had gotten her into. “Dozens of people know about that.”

“What about the mole on the inside of your left thigh? That one in your file too?” Grant took the last step into her space. Lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. He dreamed about that mole. “That little sigh that comes out when I kiss it? How many men know about that?”

A shiver ran up Peggy’s spine. None. She’d slept with other men. Not exactly a plethora, but she wasn’t a blushing virgin either. None of them had ever gone down on her. Certainly, they had never taken joy in bringing her to climax the way Steven had. Had never bruised their knees without any expectation of reciprocation.

“I love you.” He kissed the soft sensitive spot below her ear. The one that always made her melt and rub against him like a kitten. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”

The breath Peggy had been holding finally escaped her. Coming out as a sob. The emotions warring in her chest overwhelming her.

Grant wrapped his arms around her. Cradling her head and shoulders. Letting her muffle her tears against his chest. She felt so right there. The emotion of holding her like this again filled him until he thought his lungs might explode with it. He pressed his cheek to her curls. Held her until the shaking stopped. Sheltered her until the storm passed. Shielded her from the eyes of the others. Let any criticism roll off his broad shoulders rather than fall on his strong girl.

Bucky had to admit, it was weird watching what was essentially Steve holding someone who wasn’t their girl. Complicated feelings churned in his gut. Things he’d thought he’d killed long ago. The weight of the chain around his neck kept him grounded. Reminded him why he was doing any of this.

The mix of overwhelming fear and relief finally passed, leaving Peggy shaken, but lighter than she had been in a very long time. She touched his face. Found the comforting little flecks of green around his irises. The incomparable depth she had always loved to lose herself in. She still hadn’t woken up. And if this was a dream, she didn’t think her side would hurt quite so much. “How?”

“How is a long story.” One Grant would tell her in detail. Just as soon as they had time. “Short version is the serum worked even better than Doctor Erskine could have hoped. The crash didn’t kill me. Just knocked me out and left me frozen. Buck got Zola’s version of the serum back in Austria. It worked pretty well too. Soviets picked him up after he fell. Took him awhile to get away.”

“And the long version?” Peggy asked, slightly breathless. Because that hardly seemed to cover it. Didn’t begin to answer the million questions racing through her mind.

“Will have to wait,” Bucky supplied before Grant could say anything else. They still hadn’t decided what all they were telling the others about the number of Steves and what was going on in the future. They’d need to be told something if they were going to maintain the fiction. But he wanted Peggy’s input before they went into detail.

Amy swept into the room. Shaking her hair free of the tight braids it had been trapped in all night. The grounds were threat-free. She could afford to put it up in a more comfortable fashion. Irritatingly, it looked like there would be a lot of wigs in her future. “We’re on a tight timeline just now.”

Bucky felt warmth spread through his chest. She’d been beautiful at the party. But he kind of hated the wig she’d worn to make herself more anonymous. Would probably be wearing through most of this. Loose and down was better. He wouldn’t even have to fight with the pins himself. As soon as they were alone, he could bury both his hands in it. He reached for her now without hesitation. “Hey, baby girl.”

“Everything under control?” Grant asked efficiently. She was a professional, and she clearly adored Bucky, but he wasn’t sure where the two of them stood yet.

“Underwood isn’t going to be an issue before tomorrow if that’s what you mean.” Masters was torturing her now, so they had a few hours breathing room. She assumed Whitney would get upset before Underwood broke. There would be consequences for Masters, but he was no real loss.

Morita made a strangled noise. Cup tipping from a shaking hand and smashing on the ground. “We’re all going to die.”

“Don’t be soft, Jim. She’s not here to kill anyone.” Bucky smiled at his girl. The ring Stevie had given her was timeless enough that she could get away with wearing it as long as they weren’t in active combat. Their actual wedding band was more of a risk, they’d never cut diamonds like that in his day, but they just looked so right together. Glinting brightly on her finger and pronouncing her as taken. “She’s my wife.”

“You married a fucking kitsune? ” And not just a kitsune. An old and powerful one. The kind that killed emperors and overturned dynasties. Morita knew Bucky liked a challenge, but there had to be a limit.

Ayame met Bucky’s warm blue-grey eyes. He had. Without even a hint of regret, despite the mess she dragged him into. “And she’d appreciate it if you’d move out of the way so I can stop your friend from de-materializing again.”

“Before he what? ” Dum Dum had been staring at Bucky. But that made him turn his entire attention to the sergeant’s ‘wife.’

Wilkes would like someone to explain that statement himself. He felt good right now. But if he was being honest with himself, there was a place, deep in the pit of his stomach, that doubted it was permanent. He was making it all up as he went along after all.

“Before nothing, because we’re not going to let anything happen to him,” Ayame said smoothly. Taking his hand so she could lace her words with just a trace of her powers. Just enough of a spark to keep him calm. Not enough to make her sick. “May I borrow your arm?”

Jason couldn’t even think of resisting her. Sure, the others, Morita specifically, were intimidated by her. But he trusted her. How could he not when she seemed so sure. She was the first person to come into this situation who could at least convincingly act like she knew what was going on. He really wanted someone to know what was going on.

Amy smiled at him sweetly. That was the obedience she liked. Enough implicit trust to carry them through the scary part. Because she was under no illusions. The Aether extracting device Rocket had cobbled together was more than a little intimidating. Half a foot of etched metal, tipped with inch-long needles. A button that glowed even when it was empty. Confident as Wilkes was in her, he still flinched when she pulled it from her skirts.

She didn’t give him the chance to pull away. Instead, she pushed more power into him, and pressed the needles into the soft crook of his arm. A quick press of the button, and it was too late for him to second guess.

Jason winced. It felt like the worst IV he’d ever received. And the Zero Matter moved in his veins. Not just draining. Actively flowing against the direction of his blood. Unnerving, but in the wake of the sensation was just... Him. The buzz that had hummed inside him since the machine had powered on was gone. But he wasn’t. He was still here and still himself. Still physical and tangible.

Ayame twisted the end, sealing off the containment cylinder. Frowning as the Aether refused to pool nicely at the bottom. She flicked the crystalline vile. It was unsettled. Being divided from itself had left its energy flows unpredictable. Rocket had designed the device to contain the entire power of the Infinity Stone, so a fragment was unlikely to rupture it. But it would be disquieted until it was all reunited, and a lightning rod for variance in the timeline.

“We good, baby girl?” Bucky stretched a hand towards her. Encouraging her back to him. If it was all good, he wanted her back in the shelter of his arm. If it wasn’t… He still wanted her back in the shelter of his arm but, on the left side, and his follow-up would be different.

“We’re good,” Amy answered, moving smoothly to his side. Letting him slide his leather gloved hand across the small of her back. A frown crept across Amy’s face. Something wasn’t quite right. A subtle current, disturbing her subconscious. Something harsh tickling the back of her throat. “Did you smoke?”

*****

There were more explanations, although not nearly as many or as extensive as Peggy would like. And despite her initial display of emotion, she wasn't about to forgive him and take him back without at least knowing what had happened. She pressed several times, without any satisfactory result. The main points she took away were that this wasn’t the end of the upsets. That they were as concerned about Whitney Frost and her plans as Peggy was. And that both men were going by new names for the foreseeable future. Bucky was going by James Winters, although the change seemed to largely be for the purpose of public consumption. Certainly, he didn’t object when everyone continued to instinctively call him Bucky. Steven was more vehement, if less concrete. He was now, and apparently forever, to be Grant. Although he was more circumspect when it came to a surname. Evasive, even. When she asked, he blushed and changed the topic.

She might have gotten more out of Barnes, but he was mildly distracted, grovelling in Japanese. Much to Morita’s confusion.

Eventually, they came to a point where all they were doing was re-treading the same ground. Half the party were yawning, and the other half were jittery with caffeine and excitement. It was Peggy who took charge and insisted they break up for the time being. A few hours’ sleep, and they’d be able to take everything in with new eyes. Jarvis and Anna had managed to conjure beds from somewhere. Some of them would have to share, but they’d all have somewhere soft to sleep at least.

Peggy had enough self-control to stop herself dragging her lost love into her room. She didn’t have enough self-control to stop herself indulging in at least one kiss. A long goodnight like so many she remembered from before. The subtle scruff from his stubble an interesting addition. One she didn’t hate. She pressed her hand to his chest. Feeling that same steady heartbeat against her hand. “I am going to want quite a bit more explanation.”

“I know.” Grant stroked her hair lovingly. His spitfire girl. He’d come too close to losing her. His future self, his best friend in the world, and the woman who loved them both had given him another chance to do right by her. “And you’ll get it. Just as soon as we wrap up here.”

Whether she’d be able to wait that long or not was a matter of debate. For one thing, she had no idea what all ‘wrapping up here’ entailed. She agreed that Frost posed an imminent threat. But this… she had so many questions.

Chapter 13: Micro Managing

Everything felt less dire in the cold light of day. Especially since Morita had gotten the transponder working again over a late breakfast and they’d been able to locate Dottie. She was firmly at the heart of the Chadwick-Frost estate. The signal strong, unmoving, and almost certainly a trap. They would need to do something about it. But there was no reason to rush in unprepared. For now, they could relax. Daniel had to go into the office. Check on how much noise their misadventure had made. Wilkes looked fit to sleep for a week, eat his own body weight in Anna’s delicious cooking, then sleep for another week. But the rest of them had gathered outside. Taking their small window of breathing room as an opportunity to enjoy a win. To take pleasure in success before everything went sideways again.

Lounging by the pool with his wife was something Bucky could get used to. Admittedly, it would be better if Stevie were here too rather than Paris. But he’d work with what he had. And what he had was Ayame in a broad straw hat and a pretty flower-printed playsuit. The hair of her wig pulled back in a loose bun. The heavy chain that disappeared down the front to support her 'emerald' necklace was out of place. But he was wearing gloves beside the pool so who was he to judge. He’d stolen one of Stark’s silk robes to pair with the gloves. Howard would forgive him when he found out. Warm sun, cool water, it was very nearly like the vacation they deserved.

Peggy settled herself on the lounge chair between Bucky and Stev—Grant. She mentally corrected the associated name even as she sat. During their rather abbreviated explanation last night that had been a point he’d been firm on. Steve Rogers was dead and staying that way. He was back, but only under an alias. It was one of a million points she intended to press further, but far from the most urgent. His ever-darkening beard was a helpful reminder. “I’m assuming you three are responsible for the disappearance of the warheads. Does asking where they got to count as ‘need to know’ or am I allowed that much?”

“I promise we’ll explain.” Grant reiterated. He suspected it would be an endless refrain until they could fill her in properly. Just a couple more days. But they wouldn’t be easy days for either of them.

Ayame folded her legs under her. Arranging herself more securely against Bucky’s side, but also more vertically so she could direct her full attention towards Peggy. “It was us. I dropped them off in the SSR storage facility in Camp Beale. It felt like the best place for them for the time being.”

Well, Peggy couldn’t argue with that logic. Camp Beale had excellent security measures and she doubted Masters had corrupted the entire army. Although she did have a number of questions about how exactly they had managed to pull it off.

*****

Dum Dum nodded towards the love birds, deep in conversation with Carter and Cap. Bucky stroking the small of her back with the kind of casual affection he’d always avoided with the women he’d stepped out with during the war. Small soft gestures. And the way his eyes lit up anytime he saw her… “You ever seen the Sarge look at anyone like that?”

“No,” Happy answered emphatically.

At the exact same moment Monty said, “Yes.”

The others all turned to stare at him in confusion.

“Oh, I hardly think it is my fault if none of you were paying attention.” Monty had thought it was blindingly obvious from the first. The only reason Barnes had done anything like getting away with his crush was his habit of chasing anything in a skirt. Not that he was chasing now. He also wasn’t looking at the Captain with the same wistful longing he used to. He looked… happy. Settled. Like a married man.

*****

Mr. Jarvis emerged from the house. It was quite a strange spontaneous party. He had attempted to call Mr. Stark and inform him of the development. Apparently, he was already on set and could not be disturbed. He would try again closer to lunch time. For now, he’d take comfort in playing the butler, and trust Ms. Carter to keep things under control. “A long-distance call for you, Mrs. Winters.”

“I’d better take that.” Ayame kissed Bucky’s forehead. Hopefully it was good news. Their next major explanation would be much easier if they were all together.

“Give him my love,” Bucky said. Letting his hold on her trail off, all the way until their fingertips couldn’t touch anymore.

Amy blew a kiss back at him. She would. All his love and all her longing to have them all back together.

Peggy frowned at her retreating back. The answers only raised more questions. Bucky’s ‘wife’ knew far more than she should be able to.

Grant took advantage of the break in conversation to throw himself into the pool. Swamping his huddling friends in the process. Monty squawked in objection. Happy yelled something incomprehensible and aimed a half-hearted splash in the direction of his surfacing head. Dum Dum whooped and launched himself across the pool.

Ignoring the newly begun battle in the pool, Bucky turned towards Peggy. “So what’s going on between you and Souza?”

“What do you mean?” Peggy asked stiffly.

Bucky shrugged. Just weird vibes he’d picked up while they were working. A look here. An abortive touch there. Even if he was right, there was no reason for Peggy to feel bad. “He’ll understand if you took up with someone else. He was dead for two years after all. That’s on him.”

“For your information, Daniel got engaged less than a week ago.” And Peggy was absolutely not going to admit to having complicated feelings about something so inarguably positive. “To a lovely young nurse from the valley.”

“Sure.” Bucky was pretty sure he’d caught something about that during the chatter last night. He also couldn’t think of a single nurse that could hold a candle to Peggy. Peggy and ‘Grant’ had a history. He was pretty sure they’d find their way back to each other eventually. It would still be good to know if anything had happened between then and now. “But—"

“Carter!” The sound of Peggy’s shouted name accompanied by a very angry man storming across the pool deck interrupted Bucky’s thought.

“Chief Thompson,” Peggy said pleasantly. Glad to have an excuse to avoid Bucky’s invasive line of questioning. Even if the interruption was Jack Thompson. “What brings you here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Thompson snarled. Masters thought Underwood’s escape was some sort of Soviet scheme. He knew better. The whole break out had Carter written all over it.

“Reading a rather good novel and enjoying the view,” Peggy answered, gesturing at the pool and the book on the table next to her. “Stark is having something of house party.”

Happy and Falsworth waved back casually. Dugan hauled himself onto the edge of pool. Denier and Morita lifted their own glasses of sparkling liquid. Gabe leaned back in his chair on the far side of the pool, fiddling absently with a cup of coffee. Grant and Bucky did their best to disappear into the background.

“Would you care to join us? One of Stark’s Hollywood friends invented a delightful drink, champagne and orange juice, we were just going to have a few.” Peggy turned with a deliberately unhurried air. “What are they called again?”

“Mimosas,” Jarvis answered with perfect English coolness. A tray already balanced on his fingertips. He’d thought they might need a distraction when Chief Thompson had pushed past him without so much as a ‘by your leave’.

“Mimosas,” Peggy echoed brightly. And how could anything even remotely suspicious be happening when there were mimosas?

*****

The hotel was a far cry from the last time Steve had visited Paris. Last time, it had been him and Amy, eating breakfast on a terrace that looked out on the Eiffel Tower and making love on sheets with a thread count he hardly believed was possible. There had been summit meetings during the day, and his wife sweet and adoring in his arms all night. This time, the paint peeled on the walls, the pipes rattled and clanked, there was a hole in the mattress, and the only view was an alley that smelled of cat urine.

The only phone in the place was a payphone located under a flickering light in the dingy lobby. Six feet from the disinterested elderly gentleman wearing a singlet who manned the front desk. Steve had a pocket full of francs and nothing to do this afternoon but wait. And it was starting to feel like that’s what he’d be doing with his time. He’d had to feed the meter twice already and the call had only just connected.

Finally, there was a ruffling on the other end of the line. “Taii, ”

Steve felt a glacier of tension melt off his shoulders at the warm purr of his wife’s voice in his ear. It was scratchy over such a long connection. But he could hear her. She sounded so relaxed. So healthy and at ease. And why wouldn’t she be? This whole thing in California was child’s play for her. She and Bucky could pull it off in their sleep. At least that was what he was telling himself. It didn’t stop him from worrying with them so far away. “Everything is going well then?”

“There are a number of questions, but it seems to be progressing to plan,” Amy said lightly.

Steve closed his eyes. They’d expected questions. Honestly, he’d be more disconcerted if there weren’t any questions.

“And on your end?” Ayame asked. The barest hint of concern lacing the words.

Steve knew she was worried, splitting the team like this. And if she was worried, Bucky was probably a ball of poorly controlled anxiety. He wouldn’t have left them, but two Captain Americas showing up out of nowhere was a hundred times more suspicious than one and he wasn’t the one who needed to reconnect with Peggy. “We’re good. We finished the photos yesterday. Adolfo is working on colour matching the ink today. It will take a couple of days to get everything printed, but I should be back with you by the end of the week.”

“Hopefully we’ll be done here before that,” Ayame said. The brisk and efficient tones she used when she was working. “Frost is smart, but she’s swimming upstream, and she doesn’t know what she’s working with.”

“I miss you.” Steve let his physical want creep into his voice. His longing to have them back in his arms. He could almost feel his hands running up Bucky’s back, Ayame tucked between them. Soft kisses slowly deepening.

“We are not having phone sex,” Amy teased in playful Japanese.

Of course, they weren’t. They were working, and it wasn’t like this line was secure. That wasn’t about to stop him from remembering all the times they had before. Hearing the sweet hitch of her finishing in his memory. He turned further into the wall, sheltering the phone and the love on the other end from the shabby lobby. “I can’t wait to be back in your bed.”

“We’ll call with an update,” Amy said the words like an admonishing kiss to his forehead. Exactly the same tone she used when he’d suggest they ditch their meetings and spend all day in bed.

“Aims,” Steve said with the same level of warm chastisement. He’d let her get back to it. But she was forgetting one very important thing.

“I love you,” Ayame promised. Exactly what he wanted to hear.

*****

Ayame stretched as she let herself back out onto the terrace. She probably shouldn’t have skipped her workout this morning. But she’d been comfortable, curled against Bucky’s side, and she was sure she’d get enough activity later in the day.

“Everything is going well in France, but we should talk about who all is going to—” She cut herself off, they had a visitor. An angry one evidently. “Chief Thompson. Are you joining us for breakfast?” It wouldn’t be ideal. Grant’s beard hadn’t finished growing in and he was still more recognizable that she’d like. To say nothing of her recently shorn and shaved Bucky who looked very much like his old self.

Jack Thompson froze. Of all the things he expected to find Carter neck deep in, she wasn’t one of them. One of the damn Japanese Fox Demons. The men killers. And she knew his name.

Jack’s hand trembled as he scrabbled in search of his gun. He was an SSR section chief. He could handle this. He’d just take her into custody, and then… He’d figure out what to do then after he survived the next five minutes.

Finally, he found gun and handcuffs. Drawing the first to cover her in case she made any sudden movements. Tossing the second towards her. On the premise that having her secure herself then checking the work would be safer than letting anyone get within range when her hands were free.

The handcuffs landed on the pool deck with an anticlimactic click. Not as close to her feet as he would have liked. “You’re under arrest.”

“For what exactly?” Ayame reached past Gabe for the coffee pot. Already exhausted with this exchange.

“War… crimes…” Thompson answered non-specifically. He was sure there was something. All the legends, the whispers. …the things he’d seen on moonless nights in the jungle.

Amy sipped her coffee. Acidic, but better than she had expected. “Awkward given that the entire imperial family was pardoned as part of the surrender. And I am a member of the imperial family.”

“You’ve killed people,” Jack said with more confidence. He knew that much. Purple-eyed demons came for officers in the night. His unit had lost a colonel that way.

Of all the objections for this man to use in this crowd. He probably had the lowest body count here, and was still the most morally grey. “I’m not alone in that Lieutenant Thompson.”

Gabe pushed out the chair opposite him with a foot. ‘Mrs. Winters’ arrival seemed to have distracted Thompson from the tear he was on. And from who exactly was sitting on the other side of the pool. Which was probably her main goal and the reason she was over here with him rather than cuddling back against Bucky the way she had all morning. The girl was smart, he liked that for Bucky.

Ayame smiled and perched herself on the edge of the chair. Settling in for a long day of brunch and lunch by the pool. After all, that’s all any of them were here for. Good food and catching up with friends. Never anything more strenuous. “Was there a reason you stopped by? Or just poorly planned international incidents?”

“'Parently, Peggy’s a workaholic, and it is out of character for her to relax with her friends,” Dum Dum said. Just able to reach the ashtray with his cigar and matches from where he was sitting.

“The first part is true at least,” Happy chuckled as he waded the edge of the pool. The second part less so. They wouldn’t need a reunion in the first place if the team had had their way. Not with her at least. Peggy would have been their first choice to fill Cap’s shoes. Even over Dum Dum and Monty. Only reason she hadn’t is a bunch of stuffed shirts had thought she was too ‘delicate.’

Pinky lay back in the water, letting himself float. “We’re working on the second part.”

They were all just sitting around laughing. Acting like this was totally normal. Jack shifted his attention to stare intently at Morita. He had to know what was going on. Hell, he was probably the one who brought her here. How would any of the others know her? Thompson didn’t know what the trap was. Or even who it was for given that she seemed surprised to see him. But it was clearly a trap.

Morita looked back confused. Why look at him? He wasn’t the one who had brought a demon into their lives. He was just going with the flow and trusting that she wouldn’t kill them all when they weren’t looking. He hadn’t even figured out how the hell Bucky ended up married to the woman who had stabbed him with his own knife.

Ayame set her cup back in her saucer with a click. Thompson was officially starting to wear out his welcome. If not his usefulness. He had at least a vague idea of what she was. Clearly, he didn’t understand the full extent. But even a limited understanding could make him a valuable ally in their ongoing work. Assuming he survived the next week. Which was an open question. “You should head back to New York. Masters will want you in place with all the turmoil Chadwick’s disappearance is inevitably going to cause.”

Jack was leaving. But not because she told him to. Because clearly, Peggy and her friends weren’t responsible for the chaos last night. No one would be stupid enough to break Underwood out of jail if they already had her lurking in the shadows. They were almost certainly up to something. And if he was being honest, Jack didn’t want any part of it. They were in California. It was Daniel’s problem. “I expect you back in the office by next week, Agent Carter. You’re out of vacation days.”

Peggy watched him walk away stiffly. That was one bullet dodged. Or at least delayed. It would be interesting to see if she still had a job when she got back to New York. “What now?”

“What would you do now if we hadn’t shown up?” Grant asked. As confident in Peggy’s ability to direct the team as ever.

That was simple. “Start gearing up to retrieve Underwood before Frost can get anything out of her.”

“You heard the lady.” Grant’s heart swelled with pride. That was his girl through and through. “Break’s over.”

Watching them leap to attention was incredibly gratifying. Yes, they had their captain back. But it was her they were following. They hadn’t come because he had called. They had come because they thought she had.

Ayame glared at the still swinging gate. Somehow, she didn't think Thompson was just going to laydown and take this embarrassment. Something would have to be done. Easy enough. There were actors she needed to put into play anyway.

Peggy squeezed Grant’s forearm. “I’m going to call Daniel. Keep him up to date.”

“Meet you out front when you’re done.” There had been a time in their lives when Grant would have reeled her in for a kiss now. Demonstrated his pride and belief in her with more than his eyes. They weren’t back there yet. But he couldn’t wait until they were.

Chapter 14: It’s A Trap

Despite Peggy’s call taking less time than expected, the entire team, her entire team, were dressed and ready when she emerged onto the driveway. All the Howling Commandos in their mismatched uniforms. Plus, a combat ready ‘Grant’ and Bucky, both in fatigue pants and leather jackets. Bucky had added leather gloves to his outfit as well, rubbing and flexing his hands as he talked to his friend. His wife stood silent at his side, dressed in shades of deep blue, a pair of swords hanging at her hip along with a snarling Fox mask made of red and white porcelain. Jason was still asleep. Jarvis and Anna had evidently been encouraged to stay inside away from the incriminating excitement. She was rather glad. There was every probability this was going to be dangerous. Dottie on her own was a threat. Add in an intelligence like Frost, the muscle provided by her hired gangsters, and all the power the Council could bring.

“Bad news, Chief Souza won’t be joining us.” Peggy’s mind was already ticking, turning over the updated facts as she attempted to put together a plan. Losing Daniel meant losing legitimacy, but then they only had a façade of that to begin with. “The good news is, we know where Masters is and he shouldn’t be a problem.”

Grant rubbed the stubble darkening his cheeks. That changed things. And it didn’t. “What do you want to do, Carter?”

Peggy pursed her lips. What indeed. She knew what she didn’t want to do. “I don’t want you anywhere near Underwood.” Not if they were trying to keep his return quiet. Dottie would recognise him in a heartbeat and give the whole game away. Bucky’s comment when he’d surprised them in the van yesterday made her think he was actively avoiding her as well. It would leave them down more bodies. But then Peggy was already operating with more than twice the team she’d started with. Better to reduce their numbers than expose new vulnerabilities. “Stay here. Keep an eye on Wilkes. Make sure there aren’t any unanticipated side effects from the Zero Matter.”

Grant nodded in agreement. It was a good plan. He didn’t like letting her walk into danger alone. But if anyone could handle this, it was Peggy. “Take Ayame. She’ll help.”

“Back soon, Mon Loup.” Amy kissed Bucky’s cheek. He and Grant could stay out of trouble, catch up a little more, keep an eye on the civilians and ensure they weren’t overwhelmed by the last few days.

Bucky pulled Ayame back in for a longer kiss. As much as he trusted the team and his girl to handle everything, he hated splitting up. If nothing else, he’d miss out on watching Amy work. “Have fun, baby girl. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

*****

They parked more than a block from the estate. On a dark curve of the road where they’d be obscured from observation by the heavy leaves of a walnut tree. Peggy pushed her shoulders down and back as the team formed up around her. “Alright, Frost is working with the Council of Nine, and the Manfredi crime family. Which means she has access to a small private army and protection from anything like consequences. We need to get the device within arm’s reach to extract the Zero Matter, but vitally, we can’t let her touch us.” She met each of the Commandos’ eyes to ensure that they fully grasped her seriousness. “Then there is Underwood.”

“Leave her to me. We have something of an understanding already.” Amy drew the extraction device from inside her jacket and offered it to Carter. Proper division of labour was vital when it came to an operation with this many moving parts. She trusted Carter. “Your team has Frost?”

Peggy turned the cylinder between her hands. She didn’t doubt for a second that she and the Commandos could handle Whitney Frost. The question was why this woman who had clearly put so much effort into the problem of Zero Matter thought Dottie was the more immediate problem. “I presume you and Barnes have history with Underwood?”

“Bucky more than me.” D26 had been one of the Winter Soldier’s first handlers. The reports claimed she had better control over him than any of the others they had tried. Her Bucky had always had a soft spot for a pretty face.

“Can I trust that history will keep you from killing her?” Peggy was presuming a lot. It was entirely probable the other woman was largely here to kill her.

“Killing her is the opposite of what I want.” Ayame wanted D26 to live a long and healthy life. If only because it would offer her husband a sliver of protection. A gentle hand on the reins, if not a freedom from his unwilling servitude.

Peggy went still. Following the threads of intention to their logical conclusion. “You’re going to help her escape.”

“Of course not.” Amy checked the throwing knives strapped to her forearm. Not according to the official reports anyway. “Two very convincingly disguised Soviet agents did that.”

Oh, blast. She was right. Peggy and her team had been the ones to break Dottie out in the first place. They’d known the risks. “It’s dangerous.”

Ayame raised a single eyebrow. Of course, it was dangerous. D26 was dangerous. She was also pragmatic. Which was what Ayame was counting on. “More dangerous than keeping her here?”

A valid point. They rather had already let the cat out of the bag on that one. Peggy still didn’t like the idea of her wandering around unsupervised. Dottie was smart, she was resourceful, and she was ruthless.

Ayame forced herself not to bristle at Carter’s evident scepticism. They hadn’t explained. She couldn’t explain now. Not in detail. “She could be valuable to us in Russia. They have a program that is going to fail without someone intelligent to help steer it. I have a vested interest in that program succeeding.”

Mysterious, vague, and honestly the answer Peggy should have expected. Whatever was going on with ‘Grant’, Bucky, and his wife, they weren’t just here to catch up with old friends. She shifted her attention to the rest of her team. “I want a clean run. Minimal casualties. We get in. Get the Zero Matter. Get out.”

Peggy turned back towards Ayame. “We’ll meet you back—”

Ayame was completely gone. Not even a trace of footprints or hint of movement in the distance. Peggy pursed her lips. She could respect the skill it took. But she also couldn’t help thinking it would get very tedious, very quickly.

*****

The basement of Chadwick’s pool house was surprisingly dingy. Low ceilinged, with most of the room’s light filtering through the floorboards from above. Walls lined with overstuffed shelves. The subfloor made of rough hewn planks that Ayame was sure would creak for other people.

There had been guards. Inattentive and distracted guards. Ayame had absolutely no qualms leaving them for the Howling Commandos to deal with. She had a singular target at this point in the mission. She could mop up anyone who was left later.

Right now, she was only interested in the woman tied to a cracked leather chair in the middle of the room. Her evening gown was looking rumpled after more than a full day. Curls falling out of her hair after hours of torture. Red lines had started to form around the straps binding her arms. The only part of her ensemble that maintained its gala ready glamour were the sparkling diamonds around her neck.

“When I gave you that tip, I didn’t think I’d have to spell out what to do with it. I’d heard so much about you. The always impressive D26. She’s the best of the best. Outwitted Stark. Would have brought all of New York to its knees if not for outside forces. It was almost understandable, when you were arrested breaking into the vault. The Council of Nine are protective of their own.” Amy circled the room. Moving with an unhurried grace despite the urgency of their mission. Rushing was the enemy of doing things well. “Yet here you are. Captured by an amateur.”

“She’s not just any amateur,” Dottie shot back bitterly. She almost had her wrist free. And once she did, she’d show the impudent Fox exactly how impressive she could be.

“No.” Ayame’s voice was icy cold. Frost was smart. An underappreciated genius who had figured out how to use her other assets to her advantage. What she wasn’t was trained. She wasn’t a spy, or an assassin, or anything from the world Ayame and Dottie had been raised for. “She’s a politician’s trophy wife with a god complex.”

“She’s maybe a week away from taking over the world.” And Dottie knew whose side she wanted to be on when she did.

“She would be,” Ayame confessed. Given the opportunity, Frost could do anything she put her mind to. Especially with the power of an Infinity Stone to help her. “Except my family isn’t about to let that happen.” ‘Family’ might be a loose definition. The Fox Clan was, as of yet, uninterested in California. But Peggy was Steve’s family. Steve was her family. And Peggy would never have let Frost succeed. Even without help.

“Now.” With deft fingers, Ayame reached for the back of Dottie’s neck. Snapping the clasp of her necklace and whipping it away before the micro needles could brush skin. A clever device, but Ayame had been playing with the same almost since she could walk. “I gave you valuable information. I suggest you act on it accordingly.”

“I’m not your servant, lap dog,” Dottie snarled.

“I’m trying to get us both what we want.” And it was rapidly starting to test her patience. Ayame pulled a set of keys from inside her jacket. Tossing them on the floor at Dottie’s feet. “There’s a runway six miles from here. I have a plane, gassed up and waiting. I suggest you don’t disappoint me this time.” Ayame stabbed a three-inch blade into the leather strapping on the chair, less than an inch from Dottie’s arm. “You are replaceable.”

*****

Bucky was starting to flag. He knew he was. The last two days had been more ‘social Bucky’ than he’d had to break out in…. possibly ever. Since he’d been free for sure. Even his wedding day hadn’t required him to be ‘on’ for this long. He rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles stiff and cold. He didn’t have his Stevie to make excuses and whisk him away. He didn’t have his Aims to lend him her power and keep him going. He didn’t have the sanctuary his people had made for him where the rest of the world didn’t exist, and he could just be held and loved until he felt like himself again.

He took a deep breath. Leaned his elbows on his knees and let his head fall forward. Tried to focus on what Wilkes was telling them about being infected by the Zero Matter. The man had thoughts. Complicated ones about other uses for the machine he’d built. Bucky was sure he’d follow them better if he could hear him more clearly over the buzzing in his head. As it was, he wasn’t sure he was keeping up as the other man bounced around the lab explaining.

“You alright, Buck?” Grant squeezed his shoulder. This should be Bucky’s wheelhouse. He should be the one asking questions and encouraging Wilkes' thought process. Instead, his jaw was tight, and he hadn’t said anything in close to twenty minutes.

No. He wasn’t. He had a headache, his nerves were frayed, and he was jumping at shadows. He would have sworn the bushes outside were moving. “Might call it and go lay down, if that’s cool with you?”

“'Course. Don’t worry about us, Buck. I’ve got it.” Grant smiled at him reassuringly. Bucky had been through a lot, and the last couple of days had been hectic. Grant got if he needed some sleep. He could rest. Grant would help Jason work out the initial kinks in his plans. They’d probably have to change after the girls got back with the rest of the Zero Matter.

*****

Dragging himself into the guest room, Bucky let his clothes fall in a heap. Pulling on his pyjama bottoms only left him more exhausted. He didn’t bother with a shirt. The skin around his shoulder felt tender. This arm weighed less than the old one. But it still pulled if he left it on for long periods of time. He wished Ayame was here to massage his back muscles.

Bucky stretched himself out in the too soft bed. Nowhere near as relaxed as he had been last night with Amy’s head on his left shoulder. His girl might not generate the same heat their guy did, but her presence always soothed his soul.

He scrounged his kimoyo beads out of his bag. It was against the rules Ayame had established for the trip, but he needed a little extra comfort tonight. Tapping the surface of a bead, he summoned up a gallery of photos. Flicking through until he found the one he was looking for. Steve and Ayame curled together on the couch. Ayame half asleep, head tucked under Steve’s chin. Steve with one hand buried in her hair, eyes full of endless love. Their baby cradled in their laps. Bucky touched the shimmering image. Drawing strength from what they had.

He closed his eyes. Letting exhaustion carry him off. Confident that when he woke up, Ayame would be nestled into his side. A peaceful smile on her lips.

*****

It had been a rough day.

Starting with Masters confronting him first thing in the morning. A solid half hour of veiled threats and trying to fend off an interrogation before he’d had his coffee. He didn’t think he’d given anything away, but who knew what Masters had guessed. He knew he’d flinched when the man had hit too close to the mark at least once.

Then Peggy’s less than comforting phone call. He wished he could have asked questions. But with Masters sitting across the desk and watching him like a hawk, Daniel had barely been able to keep up a cover and take in the information she had been able to pass him.

Not to mention the thing down in Irvine. Which was complicated enough that it really should be taking up all his time. Would be, if he wasn’t also juggling mad scientists, a substance that could level at least three counties, and ghosts that didn’t want anyone to know they were back.

The guilt from neglecting his day job, and from not being there to help with taking down Frost...

Honestly, all Daniel wanted to do was eat the sandwich he’d picked up on the way home and go to bed. And he couldn’t because some asshole was pounding on his door. He swore, if it was Mr. Murphy from across the street complaining that his hedge was overgrown again, he was going to snap.

The door caught him hard in the chest. Shoved open as soon as the latch clicked.

Four men pushing into his house. Threatening aura radiating off them. The first punch caught him in his left eye. The second landed on his jaw and sent him reeling. His crutch clattered out of reach across the floor. He reached for it on instinct. And ended up with his fingers crushed under the heel of a shoe. He hadn’t even finished his scream of pain before someone else kicked him hard in the gut.

In a last-ditch effort to protect himself, Daniel curled himself into a ball. Wrapping his arms around his head and neck. It wasn’t a lot of defence, but it was something to focus on. He couldn’t say how long the beating went on for. Long enough that he was sure they were getting bored. One of them broke the bowl off his side table. Another smashed the glass covering his mother’s photo.

A last kick caught him in his ribs. And they left. Leaving Daniel groaning on the floor. His crutch on the other side of the room. Wind and fight both knocked out of him for a moment.

Okay. Daniel could read between the lines. Someone didn’t want him sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Of course, reading between the lines and taking a hint were different things. The smart thing to do would be to toe the line. Keep his head down. Do his job. Kiss the ring. Make sure Masters knew he valued his career with the SSR too much to interfere.

And even laying here on the floor of his living room, Daniel knew he wasn’t going to do that. He was going to keep working with Peggy. Stop Frost no matter the cost.

Daniel dragged himself across the floor to his crutch and hauled himself to his feet. Crutch trembling with how much of his weight he was putting on it. He needed to get himself cleaned up. Tomorrow, he’d go into the office for a couple of hours. Do what he could to keep up appearances. Even if he wasn’t going to give in. He could probably blame his face on his own clumsiness. Say he tried to get to the bathroom without his crutch and bailed or something. Then he’d head over to Stark’s house. Tell Peggy the real story. Figure out what else was happening. …See if he could talk Violet into visiting her parents for a couple of days without giving anything away. Just in case…

Fuck, he was over this week.

*****

Having lost track of Ayame immediately, Peggy and her team started their assault at the front gates of the mansion. Something was off from the start. Yes, there was resistance, but not nearly enough. Four guards in the front yard. A token resistance rather than an actual fighting force.

Once they made it through the front door, they fanned out. Breaking into teams of two or three. Half going up the front stairs, half investigating the main floor. Checking every room, even the closets and coming up empty. Really, other than the guards at the entrances and a few apparently relaxing in the back parlour, there wasn’t much to find. A notebook in the dressing room. A handful of schematics spread across the dining room table. But no sign of Frost or Masters. Or anyone in charge really.

Unwilling to give up, Peggy stormed out the back door. Gabe and Pinky hot on her heels. She charged across the terrace, down the stairs, onto the lawn… and stopped. Three feet from the unconscious body of the last guard standing. Not facing any threats the others hadn’t already subdued.

As the adrenaline started to fade, it finally struck her. Exactly what this night reminded her of. All the times they’d arrived late during the war. When they’d been hard on Schmitt’s heels but never quite caught him. Raiding an empty camp.

“She’s not here.” And Peggy was frankly concerned by what that meant.

Ayame dropped to the ground a few feet from Peggy. She’d missed most of the fun. Too busy keeping a covert eye on Dottie as she escaped, and thankfully, made her way towards the airstrip as directed. She had only just made it back via the trees. Combat was clearly over, but there wasn’t quite the aura of success she’d been expecting. Or the amount of chaos. “What do you mean ‘not here’?”

Peggy refused to let herself jump. Amy had vanished silently, it made sense that she’d reappear in the same way. “Whitney Frost isn’t here. Neither are about half the men we were expecting based on the number we saw at the Roxxon facility.”

Pinky swallowed. His mouth frighteningly dry. “We knew this was a trap.”

“Just not one set for us.” Gabe felt suddenly cold.

There was a brief moment of shared eye contact, and they all broke for the car. They were in the wrong place, and it was going to take them a terrifyingly long time to get back to where they needed to be.

Chapter 15: Springing The Trap

Jason’s brain was full of competing ideas. The Zero Matter may not have given him visions the way it apparently had for Frost. But having it inside him had left him with more data and perspective than studying it from the outside ever could. And not just on the Zero Matter. The containment unit operated entirely on gamma radiation. He thought he’d understood it as a concept before. But now he could see it was so much more versatile than anyone had thought. There was so much he could do with it. He thought Grant was seeing it too. At the very least he was nodding along encouragingly. He’d need funding he didn’t have. But he was staying at Howard Stark’s house. And Stark would understand even if Grant didn’t entirely get it. It was just so simple. How had no one seen it before? Jason stuttered to a stop in the middle of his explanation. All thoughts of gamma radiation and electron transfer erased by the sound of an alarm. Mr. Jarvis’ stern voice echoing through the house and grounds.

Halt. You are trespassing. Leave the premises immediately.

Wilkes had only just registered the sound when the door to the lab was battered down. Whitney Frost swept in flanked by half a dozen burley men.

Grant leapt to his feet. Putting himself between Wilkes and the intruders. His primary plan for the night had involved making sure Wilkes didn’t have a breakdown. Other than that, he’d had vague ideas about making tea for Peggy when she got back. But nothing dangerous. Nothing violent.

For the first time since she’d been exposed, Whitney couldn’t feel the pull of the rest of the Zero Matter. The endless tug on her mind was gone. A door closed between her and the light of potential.

But she was here. Less than a hundred feet from where she’d last felt it. And face to face with a device that had obviously been designed to contain Zero Matter. To contain the Zero Matter. Keep the beautifully nebulous material ‘stable.' She could see that function in the very structure of the device. The way it would circulate the energies and keep them from radiating out. What she couldn’t see was any functionality that would hide those energies for her. Not when the power inside her was still calling out for its other half. She turned her attention to the man standing in the middle of the room. “You have something I want.”

“We really don’t.” Grant wished he did. His life would be a lot easier if he did. Unfortunately, they’d sent the extraction device with Ayame and Peggy. Where Frost was supposed to be.

Whitney’s eyes went dark. Black ooze writhed around her fingertips. “Then what good are you?”

A tendril of darkness shot towards Grant. Wrapping around his wrist and pulling. Strength drained out of him. It felt uncomfortably like when he’d first emerged from the Vita-Ray chamber. The mirror image of suddenly being full of life. Grant stumbled backwards. Choking on nothing. Darkness eating at the edges of his vision. His hand tightened on the edge of the table, cracking the wood. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Frost pulled back. Winded the way she hadn’t been since she’d figured out how to regulate the power flowing through her. There was… more… of him than she’d expected. Still. He was evidently dead even if he hadn’t been disintegrated or absorbed. It didn’t matter if she left a body. Even if she left a witness in the form of the scientist cowering behind the device that had foiled her. By the time it was connected back to her, it would be too late to stop her. She’d have the Zero Matter. She’d have the uranium. The possibilities would be limitless.

She just had to locate the missing Zero Matter. They couldn’t have taken it far. Even if they had figured out how to remove it from Doctor Wilkes, it was too unstable to transport far.

Carter. She’d been nothing but a nuisance from the start. Interfering at every turn. She had to have it. Or have hidden it. Either way. That was the next step. Find Carter and make her tell her where to find what belonged to her.

Frost paused in the door. It was possible she was being too hasty. True, the Zero Matter was missing, but there were other resources. Other things that could be helpful. “Bring the scientist.”

Two sets of hands grabbed Jason by his upper arms. Forcibly dragging him away from the workbench and the fallen form of his last hope for protection. He struggled, but didn’t have a choice as his feet skidded on the smooth concrete floor.

*****

Clutching her husband’s hand, Anna crept into the foyer. Eyes scanning the room for their guests. This was exactly the sort of thing she’d been worried about when Edwin had taken up his ‘adventures.' He had given up so much to get her to safety, and now that safety was gone. The peaceful life they had built together shattered. The alarm echoing from the overhead speakers only the first sign.

A gang of thugs and toughs were swarming the forecourt. Half carrying pistols, half rifles, all armed. Whitney Frost’s famous silhouette would have been incongruous at the head of the mob, if Anna hadn’t overheard more than one conversation that led her to believe that she was the real threat. They were milling around, muttering to each other about what was going to happen next. Some of them were laughing. The protectors that had reassured her this afternoon were missing. Worse, two of the thugs were wrestling sweet Doctor Wilkes into the trunk of their car.

“Stop! You cannot take him!” Anna abandoned Edwin’s hand and half tumbled down the stairs. Her companion from the last week didn’t deserve this. Especially not after what he had been through.

She froze when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She’d wanted to get their attention. Stop them before they could get Wilkes into the car. Now she had their attention, and she didn’t know what to do with it.

Frost looked her up and down disinterestedly. “Kill her.”

Three of the men leveled guns at her. Anna let out something between a yelp and a scream. White hot fire tearing across her thigh.

Out of nowhere, something hard and metallic wrapped around her waist. Not cold, but not quite warm either. It yanked her backward out of the line of fire. A large masculine body suddenly obscuring her view.

Bucky growled under his breath. Setting Anna protectively behind him. He didn’t like fighting in his pyjamas. He’d been asleep. He’d been happy. And now this. He didn’t even have his gun with him. Hell, he didn’t even have his shirt. He’d emerged from the bedroom, groggily hoping the noise was a false alarm. Clearly, it wasn’t.

The surprise of his arrival had bought them a little bit of breathing room. They might be facing off against ‘professional’ toughs, but they weren’t fighters on the same level Bucky was. Their instincts were to try and get their bearings before attacking rather than while taking your first shots. Not the sort of hesitation that cut it in the big leagues. One of them managed to get his gun up and pointed at Bucky as the new and obvious threat. So, he couldn’t be a complete idiot.

Unfortunately, Little League wasn’t quite smart enough to consider range. Cobra fast, Bucky snatched the gun out of the man’s hand. Crushing the barrel. That should be another few seconds of breathing room. He just needed to decide what to do with the time.

Grant blundered around the corner from the lab side of the house and straight into the fray. He knocked out one guard and wrenched Jason out of the other’s grip. He still wasn’t entirely steady on his feet. But he was on them, and as long as that was true, he wasn’t going to let them kidnap a member of his team without a fight.

Both guards got unceremoniously dumped into the trunk they’d been trying to shove Wilkes into a moment ago. Bucky tossed another one through the window into the passenger seat. At least one bone snapping in the process. It was enough for the remaining men to break ranks.

Frost gaped. Incredulous that the man who should be dead was most decidedly not. Before one of her bodyguards bundled her unceremoniously into the backseat of the car. Clearly ordered to keep her safe over following her orders. The other men piled in around them. Put off by the sudden vehemence to the defense. The car sped into the darkness. An irritated Frost glaring at them from the back window as she got away.

Not good news, but it gave them the opening they needed to assess the damage. Bucky was grouchy at being woken up like this, but intact. All he needed was a quick buff for his arm. Grant looked pale. Worryingly winded. But he was upright, and he shook his head when Bucky raised a questioning eyebrow. Maybe not entirely okay, but good enough for now. Wilkes seemed fine, if shaken. Jarvis was frozen. Unable to do anything other than reach shaky hands towards his wife.

Anna was far and away the worst off of them. Face clammy with oncoming shock. One leg crumpled under her. The other stretched out at an awkward angle. The torn edge of her skirt plastered to her thigh with sticky red blood.

Kneeling, Bucky turned the limb in his hand. It was a graze. If it were him, he’d just shrug it off. Aims would grumble and use butterfly sutures to hold the edges together, slap a bandage over it and keep going. Natasha would snarl through a pressure bandage and then complain when he fretted over her. Steve probably wouldn’t even notice that he was hit.

Anna wasn’t any of his fierce fighting people. She was a civilian. One full of spirit. But this was still the first time she’d been shot.

“Give me your shirt.” Bucky held out his hand. Not actually caring who handed him one. It was Wilkes who hurried to unbutton his shirt and thrust it into his grip. Jarvis too shaken and Grant too unsteady on his feet. He would have preferred Grant's. He didn’t have to feel bad about destroying his best friend’s shirt and he knew where to get more of the right size. Wilkes’, he’d have to replace. That was a tomorrow problem. Right now, Anna needed help more than he needed to assuage his guilt over a little property destruction.

The fabric tore easily in his hands. Cotton as fragile as tissue paper with his strength. One of the sleeves got folded into a pad and pressed over the gash. The main body got torn into three-inch-wide strips Bucky used to tie that pad in place. Not the neatest bandage Bucky had ever managed, but close enough for jazz. He gave the wrapping one last tug to settle everything and tucked the ends into place. “There we go. Second prettiest leg I’ve ever patched up.”

Edwin stumbled down two steps. Trembling all over. “Anna…”

“Hey.” Grant gripped the shorter man’s arm firmly. Partly to keep him from keeling over. Partly to stop him from spiraling. “She’s going to be fine. You’re going to take her to the hospital. Tell them it was a robbery, but you scared them off. They’ll patch her up, probably keep you both for observation for a few hours.”

“I’m alright, Edwin.” Anna squeezed his hand as hard as she could. Smiling through the pain. “I’m alright.”

“Do you need one of us to drive you, or are you going to be alright?” Grant asked gently. Back on stable ground when it came to looking after people.

“I am a highly trained butler and chauffeur, sir,” Jarvis said, straightening his tie stiffly. “I think I can manage driving my wife.”

“Good.” Simple, familiar tasks helped people stay calm. Grant just needed to nudge him a little more. “Where are the car keys?”

“Car keys…” Jarvis patted his pockets frantically. He had driven last night. When they had gotten back, he had…. Left them in his jacket pocket. The jacket that was now draped over his chair in the sitting room waiting for him to fix the loose button. He raced back into the house. Marble floor slick under his shoes. And rushed back out just as quickly. The keys were in the sun visor. He’d put them there in case any of the others needed the vehicle. “Car keys!”

Bucky ignored Jarvis’ flapping as he scooped Anna up. She was so light and fragile. A songbird caught up in something she should never have been a part of. Focusing on arranging her so she wasn’t putting any weight on her injured leg.

Edwin calmed once he was behind the wheel. Back in his element and in control. The car pulled away at a smooth pace. Jarvis driving extra carefully with his precious, damaged cargo.

“You should get some rest.” Grant squeezed Wilkes' shoulder. Guy still looked exhausted even after sleeping most of the day. The manic inspiration that had lit him up after dinner had passed. “We’ll get you if anything happens.”

*****

The grounds of the Stark estate were silent when Dum Dum pulled into the drive. Silent, but not entirely peaceful. One of the lion statues was missing its face. The stone shattered by a bullet. Topiaries were crushed. Part of the lawn torn up. Distinct signs of a combat that was over, but frighteningly recent. The trap sprung on those they’d left behind.

“Bucky!” Amy was out of the car before it fully came to a stop. Her husband was sitting on the steps. Shirtless and with a smear of blood across his stomach.

Bucky caught her in his arms. Pulling her into his lap and holding her as close as he could without hindering her frantic exploration of his body. He knew what had her so distraught. He wasn’t hurt, but she wouldn’t believe him until she checked for herself. He wouldn’t have believed her either. “’S not my blood.”

Amy ran her hands over his back and shoulders. Not finding any trace of injury. “Promise?”

“Wouldn’t lie to you, baby girl.” Bucky curled his fingers into her hair. Cradled her even closer.

Grant tore his gaze away from the couple on the stairs. He’d never seen Bucky like this, so obviously in love. There were some complicated feelings there. Ones he didn’t want to look too closely at right now. He focused on Peggy instead. There were complicated feelings there too, but there was also something he could do in this moment. “Frost shot Anna. Just a graze, but we sent her and Jarvis to get her checked out at the hospital.”

Ayame nuzzled into Bucky’s hold. Wrapping herself around his chest and clinging to him. As long as it wasn’t him. The thought was selfish, but she was so relieved he wasn’t the one who was hurt. Bucky’s lips brushed her temple, and she was so relieved she could cry. "I told her--"

"I know." Bucky tucked her under his chin. He was safe, she was safe. They’d talked about D26. He knew Ayame didn’t like leaving him with the Soviets, Stevie wasn’t thrilled either, but getting him out would cause too many ripples.

Amy took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air. Letting his confidence fill her. "She's on her way--"

Bucky stroked her hair. "That's the plan, doll. We're not off script yet."

“What…” The words stuck in Dum Dum’s throat. It wasn’t even the metal. It was the scars surrounding it. Like he’d tried to claw it off. “What happened to your arm?”

“Long story short?” Bucky flexed the black metal plates of his hand. Struck once again by how beautiful and comfortable this arm was. How right it looked when he wrapped his fingers around Ayame’s. “Hydra.”

“Isn’t it fucking always.” Happy rubbed his eyes. If he had a dollar for every day the Nazi bastards had ruined…

Peggy gritted her teeth. There were so many things they weren’t telling her. Things that might be relevant. Or might only be relevant to her. The promised explanation she didn’t want to rush. “Unless that arm is going to capture Frost, I suggest we leave the explanation for after we debrief and get some rest.”

Chapter 16: The Next Morning

Getting up and going to work was one of the most uncomfortable things Daniel had done in a while. The more he moved, the harder it was to pretend his rib wasn’t cracked. He wouldn’t describe either of his legs as the ‘good’ one just now. He had some very specific words for whoever had decided to put the main office upstairs. But he had made it in. And with enough dignity to wave down the concerns of the agent sitting closest to the stairs. Masters intercepted him before Daniel could make it the full length of the bullpen. Snake-like calculation in his eyes.

“Rough night?” Masters’ concern felt less genuine. More gloating.

“Surprised some burglars.” Daniel answered coldly. Cold vindication filled his chest. Masters wanted to play. He was game. “They objected to being shown the door.”

Masters tutted in mock sympathy. “The crime in this city.”

“Yeah. Crime.” Because it was a crime. Government agencies didn’t just approve random beatdowns to intimidate people out of doing their job.

“Any leads on the Roxxon materials?” Masters asked pointedly.

So that was what the beating was supposed to extract. Shame Daniel wasn’t going to tell him. He’d probably light up all happy. “Not a thing. Don’t think we’ll ever find it.”

Masters got closer. Not quite as intimidating as he thought he was, but closer than Daniel would admit when he relayed this exchange. “That would be a real shame.” He shifted meaningfully. Ensuring Daniel knew he wasn’t the only one being threatened. “For everyone involved.”

“You know what you need?” Masters’ ‘reassuring’ smile was anything but. “A nice long rest. I’ll be taking over SSR LA operations for the foreseeable future. At least until you’re back on your feet.”

“Not necessary.” The last thing Daniel wanted was Masters poking around directly in SSR business. Daniel had two jobs to do. Keep things running smoothly and stop Frost and her newly acquired cronies taking over the country. Both of which he could do quite happily from behind his desk. Even if he wasn’t sure he could hold a pen comfortably.

Masters set a hand on Daniel’s chest and, non-accidentally Daniel was sure, directly on a bruise, to stop him. “I think it is.”

Daniel stared at the closed office door. His closed office door. He didn’t know who had given Masters the authority to kick him out of his own unit and take over section chief duties, but in this moment, he certainly felt relieved of duty. No one met his eyes as he limped down the bullpen. Conversation stopped. Gazes were averted. Eyes bored into his back as he passed. But no one said anything. All his friends and colleagues. The people he spent almost every day with. And they couldn’t even meet his eyes.

He stopped in the lobby. Just a few feet from Rose’s desk. The backwards sign for the talent agency filling his vision. Walking out the door felt… final. Like surrendering. Like giving up. He rubbed an ache out of his bad thigh. Like going home before the end of the war and leaving others to fight. “Keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll do my best.” Rose’s voice was soft, but tight. Carefully controlled to keep any trace of tears or worry out of it. She needed to be strong for him. To hold the line.

Daniel almost managed to smile at her. “I know you will.”

The good news was his schedule had opened up and he could catch up with Peggy and the others earlier than planned... Still stung. Still stung a lot.

*****

There was blood on the driveway. Not gallons, but more than he was comfortable with. Someone was hurt. There were traces of a scuffle on the grass beside the pavement. What looked worryingly like a bullet hole in the stucco by the door. Daniel’s ribs protested as he lowered himself to get a better look.

There were no footprints or drag marks in blood. But the tire tracks ran over the edge of the initial spray. From there, a few distinct drops lead to the stairs, where another larger stain made him think whoever was injured had sat for a while. He could track their movements, but he had no idea who had been hurt.

Was it Peggy? If he’d been here, could he have stopped it?

“Oh my god! Daniel!” Peggy half tumbled out the door. Rushing to his side. He looked awful. The whole side of his face a mottled bruise. The plaster bandage stuck to his temple looked far too small to hold anything together. “Are you alright? What happened?”

She got to him just as he made it to his feet. His stiff movements betraying his recent beating. Even before he finished straightening up, Peggy was running her hands over him. A not dissimilar inspection to the one Ayame had conducted last night. His ribs seemed tender. And his eye was swollen half shut. But his cheekbone didn’t seem to be broken. And she couldn’t find any bandages.

Daniel wrapped his arms around her. Crushing her to his chest. It wasn’t her. She wasn’t hurt. Peggy looked tired, and she was still favouring her side. But she was alive. Alive, and no worse than she had been yesterday.

Peggy retuned the embrace with as much enthusiasm as she received. Daniel was alive, and he was back to help. He was beaten and bruised. But he was still on her side. She was guilty and grateful all at once.

And also, aware that she was being watched. Peggy shifted away from Daniel to look over her shoulder.

A recently dressed Bucky, metal hand once again hidden by a leather glove, and Ayame still in the dark outfit she had worn on their unsuccessful outing, had followed her outside. But theirs weren’t the eyes fixed on her. Grant was standing in the doorway. He looked hurt, but not possessive the way he would have before. She should have expected them to follow her. The four of them had been in the kitchen when the gate opening alert had gone off. Bucky making tea and asking questions about the tactics Frost’s men had used when they thought they were secure.

Daniel cleared his throat. Looking back down at the pavement that had worried him so much before her appearance. “Whose blood?”

Peggy dropped her eyes to the stain. They should probably clean that up. But the early morning had been hectic and they were all tired. She wasn’t about to insist someone forgo sleep for something that could wait. “Anna Jarvis. She’s not badly hurt, but we sent her and Edwin to the hospital just in case.”

Daniel looked around the small assembled group. “What the hell happened last night?”

“It’s a long story,” Peggy sighed. A very long story, and not nearly as successful of one as she would like. “Come inside. We’ll catch you up.”

“You could probably use some ice for that eye, too,” Grant said magnanimously. He’d been gone for two years. Peggy had thought he was dead. She was allowed to have a life. He just kind of wished that life wasn’t so handsome and noble. An elderly banker whose best quality was his stability. That would have been ideal.

*****

Daniel expected to be led to the dinning room, or maybe the lounge. Somewhere the whole team could meet up and plan. Instead, they made for the bedroom wing. He didn’t spot any other members of the Howling Commandos. But he did catch the sound of snoring from behind one of the doors they passed. Even more confused when no one stopped to knock and wake up any of the apparently sleeping men.

He was completely and utterly baffled when they all trailed into Peggy’s room and Ayame peeled off the quilted jacket she was wearing. Revealing a tied cotton shirt that covered very little of her back. Next to her, Peggy started unbuttoning her own blouse. “What are you doing?”

“Do you mind? We need to change.” Peggy was deeply grateful that she had managed to squeeze in a shower. She was also glad she’d had Grant to help her keep the water away from her stitches, wash her back, help her change her dressings. He hadn’t tried anything beyond kissing her hair. But his sweet supportive concern had replaced at least two hours of sleep. Although she’d lost at least half that lying awake wondering if she should have asked him to stay in her room and act as a back rest to keep the weight off her injured side. He hadn’t offered, and she’d only seen a hint of regret when he’d left her to dry off. She wasn’t going to explain either thought to Daniel. Her complicated history was just that. Hers.

“No. Right. Of course,” Daniel spluttered as he hurried to turn around and give them some privacy.

Daniel thought Bucky and Grant would join him in staring at the wall. Instead they both dropped onto the couch. Grant not even hesitating before he moved Peggy’s garter out of the way. Completely ignoring the fact her slip was practically draped over his shoulder. Bucky kept his attention on the wall opposite, but he was nowhere near as committed to avoiding eye contact as Daniel was. Attention flicking regularly towards, presumably his wife but inadvertently both women, as he ran through what had happened on their end. Grant directed most of his attention to the ceiling which was less invasive, but still outside the bounds of priority. Of course, they were talking about how to undermine the plans of a prominent government official and one of the most famous women in the country, without even the veneer of official sanction since he’d been relieved of his duty, so society would probably judge them already.

Any anxieties he had about the women changing were quickly blotted out by the story Bucky and Grant were telling. Underwood being ‘on her way back to Russia’ was significantly less comforting than Barnes made it sound. Under literally any other circumstances, that would be Daniel’s priority number one. He’d be calling in all his agents and setting up a manhunt. Today, he didn’t have any agents, and somehow, a highly trained Soviet assassin with too much inside information on both the going-ons at the SSR and his extrajudicial activities than he was comfortable with escaping back to her handlers was only the third biggest problem he had. Frost had used Underwood to lure their forces away. Had nearly kidnapped Wilkes, also known as the only person on their side who had any idea how Zero Matter worked. Had shot Anna Jarvis, a sweet kind civilian that they had put in harm's way. Worse, it sounded like Frost wasn’t even here anymore. “She got away?”

“Not our finest moment,” Grant confessed. He stole a glance at Peggy out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t said anything, but he had a sneaking suspicion she was disappointed in him. He should have been able to stop her. Would have if Frost hadn’t hit him with… whatever it was she’d done. He still felt a little woozy.

Daniel should have known better than to buy the hype. He knew what propaganda looked like. ‘Captain America’ couldn’t live up to the myth. Good lighting, a strong jaw, a little luck, and the whole country thought he was a god. Turns out he was just a schmuck like the rest of them. His biting comment was cut off when Ayame walked past him. Nearly non-existent shirt replaced by nearly non-existent slip. She bent over to rummage through her bag. Apparently unconcerned that he could see her garters.

Amy frowned. She had been sure it was in this bag. “Bucky Baby, have you—”

“Seen this?” Bucky asked holding up the leg sheath he’d been toying with. She’d taken it out when she was sorting out her outfit, before all the excitement with Daniel’s arrival.

That was the one. Ayame set her foot delicately in his lap. Letting him secure the straps and ensure her blade sat flat. “Merci, Mon Loup. ”

“Love seeing you in your jewellery,” Bucky purred back in the same French. The language sounded so sweet on her tongue.

Daniel tore his attention away from the slip-clad woman apparently having a weapon-related moment with her husband. It was like neither of them cared that she was mostly naked in a room full of other men.

He wasn’t going to let himself get distracted. Not when they were in the middle of a crisis. “So where is she now? She and Masters are still looking for the uranium.” The throbbing bruise on Daniel’s cheek attested to that much. “She can’t have gone far.”

Peggy smoothed her blouse. Where indeed. “We don’t think she’s returned home. At least if she did, she didn’t stay.”

“She knows it’s vulnerable now,” Grant agreed. Frost would either have guessed when they drove her off or figured it out the second she laid eyes on the chaos Peggy and her team had left behind. “Question is, where do you go when you can’t go home?”

Off the top of his head? Daniel didn’t have any real ideas. But then Frost was essentially a stranger to him. He had no idea where she felt safe. “We could ask her boyfriend.”

“You got a Ouija board?” Grant flexed his hand on the arm of the couch. Significant other was always where you started. “Chadwick’s disappearance is all over the papers, and I don’t think any of us buy the ‘yachting accident’ line.”

“That’s why I said boyfriend, not husband.” Daniel had backed down once today. He didn’t feel like doing it again. Maybe he wasn’t ‘the greatest strategist who ever lived,’ but he wasn’t an idiot either.

Peggy gave Grant a stern look. They were on the same side. If he was going to insist on trying to prove who the bigger man was, she might just ask Ayame to help her and leave the boys to play by themselves. Barnes didn't seem to have a dog in the fight, she'd trust him to referee. “Daniel is the expert on the area. He’s more familiar with the players involved.”

Daniel decided not to think about the complicated feelings Peggy’s defence filled his chest with. He was engaged. And even if he wasn’t, now wasn’t the time for vindication. They were in the middle of a crisis. “Joseph Manfredi. His soldiers were helping out at the Roxxon factory.”

“Aren’t they just men for hire? What’s the connection?” Ayame frowned. This was the problem with acting outside her normal range on short notice. There hadn’t been nearly enough time to research gossip. She knew primary facts. But so much of what surrounded it was lost in fog. All the threads she’d normally pull on to get what she wanted were missing. She didn’t even know who Masters’ mistress was. He had to have one, but figuring out who and how to manipulate her to their advantage would take more time than they had.

“They were an item,” Daniel said. Trying not to stare at the woman and her unbuttoned dress.

“Movie star Whitney Frost and a mobster?” Grant arched an eyebrow. He remembered going to Frost’s films. She had mostly played pure, unblemished heroines. The kind of sweet uncomplicated women he’d found disinteresting.

Daniel knew what it sounded like. He wouldn’t have brought it up if it were just gossip. There was supporting evidence. “You know the Figueroa Street slaughter?”

“Six criminals gunned down during a card game,” Peggy supplied. It had been after Bucky's accident and his disappearance. She doubted either of them knew about it. Unless they’d been keeping up with the more salacious aspects of American news while they’d been away. Which she supposed they may have been. She still had very few answers on where exactly ‘away’ had been.

Exactly. Daniel couldn’t have put it better. It had been a massacre. “Tabloids say that happened the same day Whitney dumped Manfredi for Calvin Chadwick.”

“So, he’s a maniac?” Peggy had seen some nasty breakups in her day. But that had to take the cake.

“He’s a man in love,” Bucky countered. Heart warm as he watched Ayame sculpt the curls of her wig into perfect rolls. He’d seen how many men she’d kill if someone tried to take him from her. And knew how many he’d kill for her.

“If anyone knows where she is. He does,” Daniel finished. Not entirely comfortable with how much he identified with Barnes' statement. Men in love did crazy reckless things. Especially when they were in love with strong, opinionated women.

“Okay.” Bucky tapped another of Amy’s knives against his knee. “So what’s the actual play? Even if he knows where she is, he’s not just going to give her up, and I’m willing to bet she’s not just sitting around the restaurant eating garlic bread.” He and Aims could probably track her down. But it would take time without their usual resources. The twenty-first century had spoiled him. He was used to having a world of information at his fingertips. Running down properties Manfredi held through shell corporations would take the better part of a week with all the records decentralized they way they were. Longer if the guy was smart enough to have the corporations under associates rather than owning them outright. It wasn’t that any of it would be hard work. There would just be a lot of back and forth and getting their hands on physical files that weren’t just laying around. He could have done it in less than a day from their couch in Wakanda. His little Fox could have done it in even less.

Peggy’s eyes landed on the puzzle cylinder sitting on her bedside table. “What if we give her what she wants?”

“You want to give her the Zero Matter?” Daniel almost fell over in shock. It was hands down the worst idea he’d ever heard. And after this week that was a very high bar.

“No.” Grant watched the thoughts racing in Peggy’s eyes. “She wants to give her the uranium.”

“The fake uranium, to be clear,” Peggy said crisply. She smoothed the front of her slacks. If you had enough leverage, nothing was insurmountable. “We have something she wants. Or at least she thinks we do. We convince her she has something we want.”

She definitely did have something they wanted. The Zero Matter. But he didn’t think she’d trade that for some uranium fuel rods. Let alone the fakes they had to offer. “What could she have that she’d give us?”

“Zero Matter. Just a sliver,” Grant said. Following Peggy’s thoughts through to their logical conclusion. Frost was going to turn any meetup into an ambush no matter what they did. And she’d know that they knew that. Which meant whatever they were asking for, she needed to think they were desperate for it. He looked towards Ayame. “You said Jason was in danger of de-materializing again.”

“He was. The stabilization he worked out was good, but it would have been temporary. At least outside of the machine. He didn’t have enough material to push it past the tipping point and make it permanent.” Not his fault. He lacked the specific skills and materials Rocket had used for his container.

Peggy swallowed a sudden lump of fear in her throat. Jason was safe. She’d just said it, and he had been fine all night. “But what you did stopped that happening.”

“I removed the material causing the reaction,” Ayame agreed. No Aether, no shifting reality.

“But if you hadn’t?” Grant prompted. He was pretty sure she was following. But he wanted to hear his suspicion confirmed.

Amy shrugged. It was a moot point now. “He’d have maybe twenty minutes outside the containment unit. More if he could get another dose, but it would keep sublimating out of him trying to return to the main mass.”

“We don’t trade team members for the greater good.” Taking risks was one thing. They all knew what they’d signed up for. Leaving someone behind, actively sacrificing one of the team for a single victory, was another. Grant looked at Peggy. It had been his rule. But she had taken it to heart more than most. For him, it had been Bucky. For her, it was what happened to her brother. He knew people thought they were crazy but considering how many times he’d brought his whole team back, he thought the philosophy spoke for itself. Really, he was the only one who had broken the rule. Once this was over, he’d have to figure out if she could forgive him for being a hypocrite.

Ayame nodded. Of course. It was so simple. “So, we ‘trade’ the uranium for enough Zero Matter to ostensibly stabilize Wilkes.”

Peggy pursed her lips. Ideally, they wouldn’t actually take Wilkes with them. The last thing she wanted was Frost getting her hands on the scientist best qualified to help with her plot. “I believe Howard has a hologram projector. I’m sure we can rig a reasonably convincing decoy in the back of the van.”

Bucky rocked to his feet. That sounded like enough of a plan to move forward with. “Let’s set up a meet.”

Grant stood too. No point sitting around when they knew what they were doing. “I’ll get Gabe and Denier started on the decoy.”

Chapter 17: Lunch Reservations

Steve read the short note for the third time since it had been delivered to his room. A telegram sent all the way from Los Angeles. The ribbon pasted slightly haphazardly to the card.

Slight setback. Arrival in London delayed.

No need for response. Will update when we know more.

Love. JBB.

Steve tapped the card against his hand. He didn’t love the sound of delays. Especially not when Ayame had said everything was going to plan just a day before. ‘Set back’ could mean they needed to make some excuses before they could get away with Peggy and make their explanations. It could mean that getting close enough to Frost was taking longer than expected. Or it could mean that one of them was hurt… or worse. Bucky said he didn’t need to write back. But he’d say that no matter what was going on. Between the three – four – of them, they could handle basically anything. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to worry when everyone he loved was in danger and he was on the other side of the planet having his picture taken.

God, he’d kill for his cell phone. To be able to text the fifty follow-up questions that were racing through his head. And to be able to fall asleep listening to Bucky and Amy on the other end of the line.

Even better, he wished he could fall asleep with them. When this was over, he was going to be one of those men who never spent a night away from their significant others. It might not be easy given Amy’s work, but he was retired, and Buck wasn’t exactly employed. Their Lilypad was a good traveller. They’d make it work. They just had to get through the next couple weeks.

He kissed the paper in place of kissing his guy. “I swear, Buck. If you’re not alright…”

He was. Steve was sure he was. Aims would look after him. And he’d look after her.

*****

The Italian restaurant was quaint. Red and white checkered tablecloths. Pretty bent wood chairs. Flowers on every table. And towards the back, a group of six burly mobsters playing cards.

Daniel peered through the window as they parked. They’d left most of the team behind. Dum Dum and Pinky had taken a bag to the hospital to check on Anna. Everyone else was shut away in the lab working on the decoy. Seeing the men sitting around the dining room, Daniel was questioning that decision. Yeah. They had Grant and Bucky. And he knew Peggy could defend herself. But he wasn’t up for much of a fight after the last couple days. And Bucky’s wife was so delicate, armed or not, a good punch from one of the bigger guys and she’d shatter like a porcelain doll.

Not that anyone else seemed concerned. Bucky spun Ayame like they were going dancing as they crossed the street. Her skirt swirling before he tucked her in against his side. Daniel was dreading getting punched again, and they were flirting.

Bucky got to the door first. Throwing it wide so Ayame could sweep inside unobstructed. Followed by an equally confident Peggy and Grant. Both looking professional and not looking at each other. Daniel followed a little slower, nerves showing at the edges. Bucky patted his back. It was only the end of the world. He’d get used to it.

The men leapt to their feet. Cards scattering everywhere. They moved immediately to form a bulwark between the entrance and the door to the kitchen. Peggy caught a flash of movement through the porthole window in the kitchen door. A familiar profile of a man clearly under protection. She nudged Grant. They were in the right place at least.

Grant flicked his eyes around the room. How exactly did one open negotiation to have a mob boss act as middleman for a genocidal genius toying with powers beyond normal human comprehension? Especially when you couldn’t mention most of those facts. “You got any spaghetti?”

“We only serve steak,” the man at the centre of the line growled. Posture shifting as he assessed the threat in front of him. And got the math completely wrong, if Ayame was any judge of body language.

“We have a message for your chef,” Peggy said lightly. No need to start off aggressive. They could all be friends. Or at least friendly acquaintances.

“Sorry,” one of the other men said without remorse. His knuckles cracking. “We’re closed.”

Grant sighed. Looked like they were going to have to do this the hard way. “Shame. The girls were looking forward to lunch.”

Ayame took that as her signal. They wanted to make life difficult, but they were really only making it hard on themselves. On her own she wouldn’t even break a sweat dealing with this ‘problem.’ And she wasn’t on her own. She struck fast. A sharp jab to the throat of the man who had claimed they were closed. Crushing his windpipe, to the shock and horror of those around him. And yet they hesitated to hit a woman. A mistake that had been fatal for better men.

Not that Ayame was going to kill any of them. Just incapacitate for a while. Grant was just as touchy as her husband had ever been about ‘unnecessary’ killing.

Left was covered, Peggy was happy to take right. She knew the man with his bright red tie. He’d very nearly shot her back at Roxxon. Perfectly rude behaviour that needed correcting. Preferably with a brisk punch to the nose.

She shoved the now dazed man out of the way. Grant knocked him out before he could get back up and cause more issues for a still-healing Peggy. Giving her an opening to tackle the next target. It didn’t look like either woman would need more help than that. All he had to do was stand back and let them work their magic.

The fight kicked off faster than Daniel had been expecting. One minute, things had been tense, but everyone had been smiling. Now two men were on the ground, it looked like Peggy and Ayame were only going to work themselves deeper into trouble, and Grant didn’t seem to be doing anything about it.

Bucky set a hand on Daniel’s shoulder and held him back. Let the girls handle it. Peggy was frustrated, and it had been too long since Amy had been off leash. Stevie wanted her to embrace the better angles of her nature. But this was her. Bucky’s fierce beautiful wife. His little Fox.

A body landed on the table next to them. The unconscious man crushing it to splinters. Dear God, Bucky loved her. “Anywhere around here to buy flowers? ‘S been too long since I got my baby girl flowers.”

Daniel looked between the carnage the fairy-tale princess had wrought and the man next to him. “You’re insane.”

Bucky shrugged. Flowers probably weren’t the right choice anyway. Last time he’d brought Amy flowers they’d been ones he’d grown at the farm. Store-bought wouldn’t have the same effect. “It was a rough war.”

Grant looked back at the two men. Yeah. Buck’s war had been longer and harder than most. Looked like he’d landed on his feet in the end. Ayame was something. “You two done jawing? The girls have us about wrapped up here.”

Bucky couldn’t fault the truth of the statement. Not when Ayame had just hit the last man in the temple and sent him sprawling. “You want to kick down the door, or just walk in?”

*****

Manfredi froze as a heavy booted foot sent his kitchen door crashing into the wall. A moment ago, he’d been having it out with his grandmother. The old woman had been insufferable since he’d gotten Whitney back. He knew she’d never liked her, but this was good. They were going places with Whitney. Powerful places. Legitimate places. The kind of places that meant he’d never have to get his hands dirty again. Now, his space was being invaded. Through the door, he could see his bodyguards laid out on the floor. Beaten, bruised, and unconscious. His best men, taken out by five people. Two of them women. “I don’t know if I made enough for lunch.”

*****

Sitting before Manfredi did – and without invitation – was a deliberate power play. A show of strength and indifference. They wanted him just a little off balance. A little on the defensive. Not that Manfredi seemed to actually object to their sitting. He raised an eyebrow when Ayame, Peggy, and Daniel had taken the chairs already in the kitchen and Grant had brought in two more so everyone could sit, but didn’t say anything. The closest he had come to protesting was setting a single glass next to a bottle of whiskey on the table. Not exactly welcoming, but not enough to send them running either.

“So,” Manfredi spun his chair around and plunked himself down opposite his ‘guests.’ His Nonna had taken up a place at the stove. Determinedly acting as if this were normal the way only the matriarch of a mob family could. He could act like it was normal too. “What can I do for you folks?”

Daniel looked around the group. If no one else was going to start, he would. “We need to pass a message to Whitney Frost.”

“I’d try her agent,” Manfredi snorted, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Bucky rolled his shoulders. Someone thought he was the big dog in the room when he very much wasn’t. “Pretty sure you’re the person we need.”

Manfredi narrowed his eyes at the man. There was something familiar about him. “Have we met?”

“I was in the pictures during the war,” Bucky shot back without hesitation. “Might have made out with your girlfriend.”

Manfredi set the bottle of whiskey down hard enough to shake the table. That wasn’t it. And it also wasn’t funny.

Peggy glared at Bucky. This was not the time to tweak the hot head’s tail. He was supposed to be blending into the background. Here to lend strength and observe. Not to draw attention to himself and risk recognition. She’d want to avoid advertising the fact he was involved even if he wasn’t trying to keep his larger identity secret. She really should have left the boys behind and done this with just Ayame. “Whitney Frost was employing your muscle at a Roxxon facility we raided.”

‘Raided.’ They made it sound so legitimate. Which wasn’t the way Manfredi had heard it yesterday when Whitney had been introducing him to her new friends. “I wish I could help you, but how am I to know who my associates associate with?”

Ayame set a soothing hand on Bucky’s arm. They could handle Manfredi. He thought he was clever. That was good for them. The ones who thought they were clever were so much easier to exploit than the ones who knew to second guess their gut. “Mr. Manfredi, we know you have a relationship with Whitney Frost.”

“Everybody in town knows that.” Manfredi waved the comment away with his glass. Old news. “Everybody also knows that she dumped me for a crooked politician.”

“All we need you to do is get a message to her.” Now that they were here, Daniel wasn’t sure he liked this plan. Too many moving parts. And yeah. It had been his plan, but that was why he was allowed to be skeptical that it would work. They should have workshopped it more. They were flying by the seat of their pants. Only the broad strokes in place. They didn’t even know if their Wilkes decoy would work. Assuming Frost didn’t see through their scheme at this point and leave them standing in the middle of nowhere with their dicks in their hands and four lead rods dressed up all pretty.

“Yeah,” Manfredi took a gulp of his whiskey. “I’m not going to do that. I don’t know where she is. And even if I did, I wouldn’t.”

Grant scratched his beard. He couldn’t wait for it to grow in. It was such an awful length right now. Itchy and rough. It did at least seem to be doing its job. No one expected to see him. He didn’t look like himself. So, no one saw ‘him.’ Which was good. He’d hate to be excluded from this conversation. “You know little Tommy Fontana’s getting out next week?”

“Oh yeah, sure I know.” Manfredi rolled his eyes. That was what they’d brought? When they’d taken out his men, he’d thought they might actually be a problem. But when it came down to it, they had old rumours and old friends. He’d hear them out a little longer. Just to collect information for Whitney. After last night, she’d want to know if he found another opening to go after them. He waved his glass vaguely towards the stove. “Nonna’s in charge of baking him a welcome home cake.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair. They had planned for this sort of response. He might not love the plan, but it hadn’t fallen apart yet. “Be a shame if Tommy found out you were the one who turned the State’s evidence against him.”

“That’s a lie,” Manfredi stiffened. He would never turn snitch. But it was also exactly the sort of lie that got a guy killed. Waiting to find out if it were true or not wasn’t good business. And Tommy only did what was good for business.

“Tommy doesn’t know that.” Bucky kept his voice level rather than smirking. No need to rub salt in the wound. They had him by the balls. And he knew it. The options were, play their game, or take his chances with a guy who didn’t mess around when it came to bodies.

Nonna made a lunge for the knife. Unafraid to shed blood to protect her family. Manfredi was forced to grab her. The sentiment was there, and under other circumstances he might agree with her. But this bunch had made it clear that they weren’t to be trifled with in a fight. Bad idea to go after them physically without more back up.

Also, probably a bad idea to provoke his grandmother any further. She didn’t know everything that was going on. Even pissing Fontana off might be worth it for Whitney’s plan. He just needed to know what all these folks were looking for. “Give us a moment, please?”

She wasn’t happy about it. But Nonna went. Glaring at the assemblage as she pushed through the door out to the dining room.

Straightening his shirt sleeves, Manfredi returned to his chair. He was calm. He was collected. He was going to hear them out before he had them quietly killed. “What message would you like me to deliver to Ms. Frost?”

“We want to make a trade,” Peggy said with all the stiffness she would have if this really was a matter of life or death. It was. Just not as imminently as it would have been if Jason really was de-materializing and not in the way they were implying. “The uranium fuel rods for a portion of the Zero Matter.”

Manfredi was listening. He was listening intently. Whitney wanted the fuel rods. Bad. It was the part of their failed assault she was most upset by. There was no way she would give up even a fragment of her precious Zero Matter. But then that wasn’t their problem. Question was, why these clearly competent, if disorganised, people wanted to make it theirs. “Why do you want it? Stuff’s dangerous.”

“One of our guys was exposed too. Only it didn’t go as well for him as it did for her. We need more Zero Matter or the little bit that’s in him is going to kill him.” Grant said it like a confession. Information he was reluctant to part with, but knew he had to if they were going to be taken seriously.

Bleeding hearts. That explained it. Manfredi liked that. Whitney would too. Soft touches were easy to extort. “And this hypothetical ‘trade,’ what does it look like?”

Here, Peggy was on solid ground. It was far from the first covert exchange she had organised. “Neutral territory. Somewhere with open sightlines. The Roxxon testing grounds.” It was ‘neutral’ territory, insofar as neither side had already fortified it. But the balance of power was firmly in Frost’s court. Which Peggy hoped would lull her into a sense of security. It was also far enough away that Peggy doubted Frost and her men could get there before them. The desert site had open sightlines, but it also had high bluffs surrounding the bomb site. Too far for most shooters, but comfortably within the range for a talented sniper. Which they had with Barnes back.

“No big forces,” Grant added. They’d worked out a solid outline for their plan while filling in the rest of the team. “Three to three. No traps.”

It was a lie, of course. They might only have three members of the team visible. But they’d be out in full force. He expected they would too. It was a trap. Frost would be a fool not to assume it was a trap. The dance was the important part. Everyone playing their part in the charade. Everyone smiling to each other’s faces, and clutching weapons behind their backs.

He watched Bucky’s hand slide down the back of Ayame’s chair. Coming to rest right where he could reach the knife strapped to the small of her back. Somehow, Grant didn’t think Manfredi and Frost were prepared for the weapons they could bring.

“And soon,” Daniel finished. “Dawn tomorrow.” No sitting around waiting or time for plotting. They had their plan. Better if Frost didn’t have time to come up with one of her own. Plus, if they really were negotiating for Wilkes' life, they wouldn’t want to just sit around twiddling their thumbs.

“I’ll have to run it by Whitney,” Manfredi paused, fake catching himself. No one was fooled. He knew exactly where she was. Another step in the dance. “If I can find her.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Bucky pulled Ayame to her feet. Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. That was as close to a promise as they were going to get. Better to cut and run before Manfredi could ask too many questions.

“If I can find her and she agrees,” Manfredi said. Already thinking about how they would execute Whitney’s plans. He didn’t know what she intended to do once she got the uranium. But he knew that Whitney was smarter than he was, and that her big plans could easily take them to the moon. Look how close she’d gotten without his help. Together the sky was the limit. He’d always known it.

“Like he said.” Peggy stood herself. Barnes was right. Leave while they were ahead. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter 18: Set Up

Upon their return to the Stark estate, Peggy was gratified to find it a hive of activity. The garage door that led into the lab thrown open to make space for a box truck.

It didn’t look like the group that had gone to the hospital were back yet. Possibly a blessing given the controlled chaos already apparent. They had managed to recruit Doctor Samberly somehow. Her best guess was they had contacted Rose and she had made excuses for him to be out of the office for the afternoon. He had his head together with Wilkes and Denier, all poking at some sort of electrical circuit while the others moved around them. Morita and Happy cleaning away scrap metal. Gabe wiring something to the bottom of the truck.

“Peggy!” Wilkes waved for her to join them. “Come look at what we’ve got.”

*****

The holographic Wilkes had turned out fantastically. The loop was short, and flickered irregularly, but it didn’t have to be long and if anything, the flickering added veracity to their claim. It only worked in specific lighting conditions, but it would have been irrational to take the entire containment unit out of the back of the truck anyway. As long as they parked with the sun behind them, it would do the job. Peggy watched the ghostly version of Wilkes run through his motions again. He shifted from side to side. Went to lean against the side of the machine then recoiled when his hand didn’t connect. Looked nervously at the group standing around the open back of the truck.

“What do you think?” Wilkes asked from beside her. Acting wasn’t really his forte, but he thought he’d done alright.

“I think it’s brilliant,” Peggy pursed her lips. No. The hologram wasn’t an issue. It might not stand up to extended scrutiny, but then it wasn’t meant to. The problem was the decoy uranium. The rods looked good enough. And they were stored in a genuine containment case. But that was as far as it went. Frost was greedy, but she wasn’t an idiot. She would be looking for their deception. Her guard wouldn’t lower until she confirmed they had lived up to their part of the bargain. This whole thing had been Peggy’s plan. She should have anticipated this issue earlier. “But it won’t stand up for a moment when she tries to test the uranium.”

“We thought about that actually,” Morita said, stepping aside so Doctor Samberly could wheel the other worktable over.

The crate that they had used to recover the uranium in the first place sat on top. Lead lined and as secure as the labs of the SSR could make it. The lid was off, belying the warnings plastered around the side and exposing the ‘fuel rods.’ The rods looked exactly the same as they had when they had retrieved them. Even the hollow cylinder that had held the note had been repaired and returned to its slot. They looked perfect. There was a reason Peggy, and her team, hadn’t even questioned them in the heat of the moment. Frost was unlikely to be in quite the same hurry they had been.

“Go on,” Samberly offered her a Geiger counter. “Give it a try.”

Dubiously, Peggy waved the wand over the open box.

And was greeted with a crackling and beeping that was music to her ears. Peggy watched the needle of the Geiger counter jump and dance. Exactly the way she would have expected them to if they were real.

“Is it magnets?” That would be the easy solution. Rig the Geiger counter to react to the rods. Not the worst idea. Although they would have to do some serious tap dancing to convince Frost to use their counter rather than her own. If they had more time to prepare, they could sabotage hers. Barnes’ wife claimed to have broken into Camp Beale. Manfredi’s hideout would be easy by comparison. Of course, if they could locate Manfredi’s hideout and gain access the whole charade would be pointless.

“It’s real radioactivity,” Doctor Samberly said excitedly. They had played with a few ideas before Jones had made a joke about how it would be easier to just give her the real thing and gotten him thinking. “Basically, a skim coating of radium mixed with a few additions so that it reads at the right intensity. She can use her own Geiger counter and it will read the exact same.” Stark had some amazing supplies tucked away. Everything a scientist could want.

Daniel watched the readouts over her shoulder. It looked right to him. Maybe even a little too good. “And they’re totally inert?”

Happy clapped him on the back. That was exactly what he had said. And he’d watched the whole process. It was safe as safe could be. “Not enough radioactivity to run a lightbulb.”

A comforting certainty settled in Peggy’s chest. This could work. “Thank you, Doctor Samberly. Excellent work as always.”

*****

London was cold and miserable. It had been drizzling since he’d arrived. And the beer, which he hadn’t drunk very much of anyway, had been sour. Thompson was starting to question his decision to come at all.

Masters had a bee in his bonnet about everything that had happened the last few days being Peggy’s fault. But he just didn’t see how it could be Carter. She had an airtight alibi for Underwood’s breakout, for one thing. She and Rose had gone out for lunch. Three other agents had been on their way out at the same time and had seen her picking Rose up. Another two had seen the drop off. No way could she have made it to New York and back in the time in between. She hadn’t been at the party. He’d checked with security, and they’d had her picture on their ‘no admittance under any circumstances’ list. And the agent he’d had sitting on the Stark house today said nothing was out of the ordinary. Not that he could get very close. That butler of Stark’s was irritatingly attentive.

Still, Masters thought it was her. Claimed it was part of a pattern. Which it kind of was. There had been the whole thing with Stark’s missing inventions and the Midnight Oil last year. Even if she had been on the right that time. But Masters thought it started before that. Back during the war.

Which was why he was here. Halfway around the world. Getting ‘drunk’ with an old friend from university. Trying to prove something he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe.

But that was the job. It wasn’t pretty. But it would make the world a better place. He had to believe that much. Otherwise, what point was there?

He’d run down this lead. See what Edwards’ contacts could drum up. At the very least he might end up with something that would knock Carter off her high horse and make her fall in line. He respected her. He didn’t want to have to fire, or worse, arrest her. She was a good agent. A valuable asset. She just didn’t know how to be a good soldier and toe the line. If she’d just stop acting like she was the smartest person in the room and follow an order for once…

He couldn’t look maudlin. Couldn’t brood. Not right now. He had a cover to maintain. This was just old friends meeting up. Sharing a couple drinks. Getting a look at an old, irrelevant file. He tipped his head back and sang the old school song at the top of his lungs. Waved his hat in time with what could generously be called the melody. “Hail, all hail, Cornell!”

He and Edwards stumbled across the street. Dodging a honking cab as they careened into the front wall of King’s Crown pub.

“Why won’t you tell me how you broke your hand?” Edwards asked. Only slurring his words a little.

“Maybe because I did it taking down a high-level Russian agent?” Thompson laughed. Miming wrestling someone to the ground. The truth was, he’d cracked his hand against the wall trying to not feel anything when Masters had ordered him across the Atlantic. He’d been off since he’d talked to Falsworth at the Chadwick party. Nothing had felt right. Everything was rubbing him the wrong way. This trip. The future Masters had promised. Everything he had worked for in his career.

“Yeah, all right, mate,” Edwards laughed. Not even trying to hide his skepticism.

“Would I lie to you?” Thompson asked, letting his drunk act drop just a little. Testing how perceptive Edwards was at the moment. Ideally, this whole night would be a little fuzzy for him. He might remember that Thompson had asked for a favour, but he wouldn’t know how serious the whole business was.

“Oh please,” Edwards waved the nearly empty pint glass he had purloined from their last stop. They both knew what had happened. “You did it in a bar fight. Just like every year in uni. Freshman year, broken nose, bar fight. Sophomore year, broken jaw, bar fight. Junior year, you broke—"

“Ey yah,” Thompson cut Edwards off there. He kind of wished it had been in a bar fight. Bar fights were simple. This wasn’t that. “You talk too much.” He checked the glass he had managed to mostly slosh onto the street while they were walking. “And I’m empty.”

“Well,” Edwards downed the last foam in his own glass. “We’re at the right place then.”

Thompson grabbed his friend by the arm before he could head inside. They were just a few blocks from Edwards’ apartment. Away from prying eyes but not off routine. Great place for a drop. “Hey, hey. Before I black out. Did your MI4…,” He paused, deliberately making it look like he was getting it wrong. He knew exactly what he was looking for. But he wanted Edwards to remember this as just gossip. “Five… MI whatever. Did they find that thing?”

Edwards had wondered when he would get to the heart of the matter. Not that the night had been unenjoyable. But one generally didn’t hop on a last-minute transatlantic flight for mediocre beer and off-key singing. Certainly not after making some very specific requests via secure phone line. “I’ve never had to break so many security protocols.” He rummaged in his overcoat until he found the manila folder he’d been carrying around all evening. “Only to find a fully redacted file at the end of the rainbow.”

Thompson groaned. That was exactly what he had expected and been looking for. Which meant this was working. Which meant there was something to find. Which kind of killed some of his illusions. A part of him had wanted Peggy to live up to the hype. “What ‘cha gonna do?”

“Jack,” Edwards said seriously. “I know why you’re here.”

“Oh yeah?” Thompson said distractedly. Edwards had been right. Even a cursory look showed more pages blacked out than left legible.

There was a moment when Edwards hesitated. Unsure what to say, or possibly unsure if the contents of his stomach were going to stay down. “You want another shot at taking down my record of piccadilly commandos in an evening.”

A smile cracked Thompson’s face. He’d almost been worried there for a second. Would be worried if he was actually going to drink any of the cocktails he remembered from before the war. They’d go on the floor the same way his beer had. “Am I that see-through?”

Edwards laughed aloud. He was. He really was. “You don’t hurry. I’m going to get a head start.”

He picked up the song they’d left off as he loafed towards the pub door. “Lift the chorus!”

“Speed it onward!” Thompson joined in. Not making any move to follow. “Loud her praises tell!”

The door closed behind Edwards, and Thompson let his drunken ruse drop completely. He had what he’d come all this way for. The question was, was it worth it? Had Carter actually done something he could use or had this all been a wild goose chase. He ducked around the corner. Out of sight if Edwards came looking for him, and close enough to the streetlight that he could shed some light on the page.

Balancing the open file in one hand, he fished a very special magnifier out of his inside jacket pocket. The polarised glass lens, designed to distort the ink used for redacting and expose the typeface underneath.

Even the first words he uncovered were damning.

--Extreme interrogation--

--No civilians were spared from the massacre. –

--Exact casualties could not be determined but exceeded 80.--

--Agent M. Carter, S.O.E. --

Dark certainty settled in Thompson’s chest. Not a wild goose chase at all. Masters had been right. Carter acted so high and mighty. So pure. So sympathetic. When after all, she was right down in the muck with him. If anything, her hands were even dirtier.

*****

“So,” Jack Churchill slid a whiskey down the bar to Edwards. “Did he take the file?”

“He did,” Edwards confirmed. Wrapping his hand around the cut crystal glass. Acting drunk was exhausting. He’d happily trade it for the real thing now that his part was done. “Are you sure this is all above board? Carlisle felt… off… when I mentioned it.”

Jack shrugged. It depended on what board he was referring to. “You know how it is. Everyone wants to share information. No one wants to admit they’re sharing information.”

Edwards snorted into his drink. He did know. This wasn’t the first time he’d been involved in an off-the-books exchange. At least this time he wasn’t trying to explain how radar worked to someone who had never even imagined it when he only had a sketchy understanding himself. The Soviets still owed them for that. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe they’d paid them back above his paygrade. “What are you doing in town anyway? I thought you were up North all month.”

“I was,” Jack laughed. A devastating assignment given that it was clearly pointless, and it had taken him away from his cosy apartment and a last night with his beloved, before Montgomery got to go off and do something useful. Not that he was going to share either fact with Edwards. “Then a girl called.”

“A girl?” Edwards was surprised. Jack had never seemed like the type to let a woman turn his head. He was too upright for that sort of thing. Too disciplined.

“She’s a very special woman,” Jack confided. “An absolute goddess.”

Chapter 19: A Second Trap

Monty gazed down at the desert valley. Isolated, desolate, perfect for a covert meeting. Or an ambush. It was a coin toss which this would be. “We didn’t have enough prep time.”

It was a pretty vista. Under other circumstances, he’d enjoy watching the sun rise over the horizon. The morning light painting the sandy bluffs incredible shades of orange and pink. But Frost was late, and all they could do about it was sit on their thumbs and smoke. The six of them up here. Peggy, Ayame, and Sousa down there with the decoy. The rest of the team at their fall-back location, waiting in case things here went sideways.

Eighteen hours from the moment they’d set the meet. Three of them eaten up by the drive. Most of them in the dark. They hadn’t even been able to walk the full perimeter. There were blind spots. Weaknesses in their defenses. Openings the other side could exploit.

Laying on his stomach at the edge of their ledge, Bucky studied the valley through his scope. Rifle butt resting comfortably against his cheek. Gloved hand firm on the bottom of the barrel. It might not be the pretty gun his baby girl had given him for their wedding, but it had smooth action and straight sights. More than good enough for this. Frost was barely a threat compared to some of the things his little Fox had faced down. “You worry too much, Monty.”

Pinky lit a cigarette with less than steady hands. Frankly, he was on Falsworth’s side on this one. Sarge had never been the one to worry. Even when he probably should. “I’d have thought you’d be more anxious. Your wife is down there.”

Bucky stole the cigarette dangling from Pinky’s fingers. Aims would understand. He was supposed to be blending in... And it felt fucking good. “Why would I worry?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the murderous femme fatale bent on world domination and in league with the Illuminati,” Gabe ticked off reasons from his position behind a set of binoculars. He was sure he was forgetting some. There was no way in hell he’d let his wife down there at all. Let alone without him. “Did I mention the part where they’re up against someone who can literally absorb people with a touch?”

Bucky took a second long drag. That was all true. But what they hadn’t taken into account was how good his little Fox was at her job. “Baby girl’s got this.”

Grant lay on his back. Very deliberately watching the clouds overhead rather than the excitement below. He loved watching Peggy work. But it killed him that he couldn’t be down there with her. He knew why. Exposing him to Frost was a bad idea. She was too smart. Too likely to put two and two together and come up with the right answer no matter how crazy. Better to keep him out of the limelight. And not just now. If this thing was going to work, he’d have to find something to do with his life that let Peggy keep all her sparkle without catching too much shine himself. Some way to support the love of his life the same way Bucky was supporting his wife. “She’s going to murder you when she catches you smoking again.”

Bucky took another deep inhale. Smoke filling his lungs. Aims would be pissed. No point in denying it. “She’s worked too hard to keep me alive at this point.”

Grant snorted. Yeah. She had. Torn the fabric of the universe to shreds for him. Grant got it. Obviously, he got it. He had apparently helped with the shredding.

Was helping. Because they weren’t done yet. For that matter, depending on how this ‘exchange’ went there was a real possibility that they could do permanent damage. “Anything on the radio, Jim?”

Morita fumbled the handheld he had pressed to his ear. “Nothing yet, Cap—Shit. Sir—Grant—Shit.”

Gabe looked over his shoulder. Morita wasn’t normally one to get flustered. “You rattled, man?”

After this week? Yeah. Yeah, he was. He thought it was pretty reasonable. “Sarge is fucking the devil. Sue me for being off my game.”

“That’s my wife.” Bucky stubbed out the last of his cigarette. Gabe and Pinky might not see it yet, but that dust in the distance meant it was time. “I’m not just fucking her.”

*****

“How much longer?” Frost asked sharply. This drive was completely interminable. The idea of meeting on ‘neutral ground’ was all well and good, but they could have picked somewhere closer. If she had been there when they arranged meeting, she would have set it for the warehouse Joseph had given her for her new lab. It’s not like it mattered where they met anyway. They were desperate. And she was so close to a breakthrough. All she needed was more data. How had the Zero Matter affected the scientist? Why was she stable and able to direct the power when he wasn’t? Did it affect all its hosts differently? The material inside him had called to her until the other day. Did hers call to him? How had he blocked the signal?

“Almost there,” Manfredi assured her.

He was right. As soon as they came around the next corner, she saw the truck. They were waiting. She could see them. Two women and a man with a crutch standing around the open back of the truck. And in the back of that truck, the machine she had seen in Stark’s lab. Now with the scientist she had tried to capture contained inside it. He was in shadow, but she would swear she saw him flicker.

So, they had told at least part of the truth. He was unstable. Maybe that was why she couldn’t feel it. When it had destabilized, it had lost resonance with the Zero Matter inside her. The question, the question big enough to press all other inquiries to the fringes of her brain, was whether the obviously heavy crate Carter was holding protectively actually held the nuclear fuel rods.

Left to her own devices, she would have run to them. Absorbed them all and taken her spoils. Manfredi grabbed her arm as she hurried around the car. Holding her back. Reminding her that discretion was the better part of valour. If it wasn’t the uranium, she would need them to tell her where it was. If what was happening to the scientist they had recruited wasn’t obvious, she would need them to answer questions about that too.

“You said three people,” Manfredi glared at the line of people in front of him. The two big burly men they’d brought to intimidate him at the restaurant were missing. Although the remaining man with his crutch looked readier for a fight than was healthy.

“I don’t know that the guy who keeps losing physical form really counts,” Daniel answered stiffly. He didn’t like this. It would almost be better if this were a clean trade. If they really were handing over the rods for a portion of the Zero Matter. But this? He felt like bait. He was bait. Especially since the ‘three people’ rule Manfredi was questioning apparently only applied to them. Daniel hadn’t missed the extra thugs looming in the car they’d arrived in.

“Show us the goods,” Manfredi snarled back. Maybe he didn’t. But that didn’t mean he had to like this. He wished Whitney hadn’t insisted on coming along herself. He and his men could have handled things.

“Let’s all stay calm,” Peggy soothed. This was going to plan. She moved to the crate resting just inside the back of the truck. Opening it to reveal the beautifully treated rods. “I wouldn’t risk Doctor Wilkes’ life trying to trick you.”

One of Manfredi’s men came forward with a Geiger counter. Peggy held her breath. Hoping that the rods registered as perfectly today as they had yesterday. As soon as the sensor came within range, the needle jumped and danced. Crackling as loudly as real uranium ever had. Peggy held deliberately still. Careful not to give away any sense of relief.

Whitney felt a wave of relief roll over her. They were here. Her experiments could continue. There was so much she could do. Just as soon as she got them back to her lab.

“Not so fast.” Peggy snapped the lid back onto the crate, pushing it more securely into the truck and out of easy grabbing range. “You have to live up to your end.”

“Our side?” Manfredi snorted. They didn’t seriously think they were doing the whole ‘trade’ thing? They were leaving with the crate and whatever else Whitney decided she needed.

“Doctor Wilkes. Can you help him?” Daniel said as seriously as he could manage. Maybe they should have had someone else do this part. He wasn’t the best actor. Hopefully, Frost was too distracted to notice how stilted he was. Or if she did notice, she’d write it off as nerves. After all, one of their teammates was ostensibly dying.

Whitney licked her lips. Of course. The doctor. Half the reason they were here. As for helping him. She wasn’t sure. Use him? Certainly. If nothing else, what was happening to him was data. Data she could use for her own experiments with Zero Matter. But help? That was more of a question. Both in her ability to execute, and her desire to waste the mental energy when he might be just a distraction. “I need a closer look.”

*****

Watching Ayame through the scope this time was different from their afternoon in Russia. No fake capture this time. No watching her get dragged away. Just his girl being as fierce and brilliant as he knew she could be.

Frost went to push by her to access the truck. An amateur mistake. His girl might not look like a threat, unless you knew what you were looking for, but it was always better to assume an unknown quantity was a threat until proven otherwise rather than find out the hard way that you were wrong.

Like Frost was now.

Ayame struck like a viper. Catching Frost by the wrist and yanking her in. The extraction device flashed into her left hand, stabbed into Frost’s neck, and vanished just as fast.

Frost screamed in pain and rage. Shoving at Ayame violently. Even from here, Bucky could see that it hadn’t been enough force to take down his girl. Under normal circumstances. Lucky for Frost, the plan called for Aims to take a dive. Otherwise, she would have redirected the force and sent Frost crashing to the ground, rather than tumbling backwards. Safely out of reach and range.

Then Frost collapsed. Knees going weak and crumbling.

Her boyfriend grabbed her. Slammed the door on the back of the truck, thrust her into the front seat, and got it running. Not even questioning why they had left the keys in the ignition. His men piled back into the car and peeled out behind them. They let off a few shots as cover fire, none of them connecting with anything that mattered. Leaving Peggy, Daniel, and Ayame alone in the valley bottom.

Exactly to plan.

*****

The last gunshot faded. The dust plume drifting away on the breeze. Leaving Daniel stranded in a canyon with two women, one of whom had a barely healed wound in her side, and no way out.

Ayame rocked to her feet. Brushing sand and dust off her gi. She didn’t love the pantomime of failure, but they had what they needed and probably enough breathing room to finish securing the Aether before Frost realized what was wrong. She hated playing the victim, even if it had been effective. “That went well.”

“Oh yeah. I love being left for dead in the middle of the Sierra Nevada desert.” Daniel kicked a rock in frustration. He hadn’t liked this plan from the start. They were too exposed. It was a miracle none of them had gotten shot.

Peggy took a moment to decipher the signal flashes from the ridge above. “Barnes thinks they’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Ayame perched herself on a rock. If her Bucky said ten minutes, she’d place it closer to seven. Her husband always gave conservative estimates. He liked to delight her with his competence. And she was regularly delighted. “Relax, Chief Sousa. You’ll have your office back by the end of the week.”

*****

Panic started to course through Whitney’s veins. The voice was gone. The brilliance. Whatever the woman had done, she had taken it from her. The power that had filled her since the accident. She couldn’t breathe. A single thought taking over her universe. “We have to go back.”

“Are you kidding me?” Manfredi’s hands jerked on the wheel. They were absolutely not going back. He’d seen the flash on the ridge line. The way the man’s eyes kept straying to someone or something above them. He’d lay even money they’d had a shooter watching them. Probably more than one. Their plan had probably been for the initial attack to take Whitney, since she had been right in the thick of things. Then their shooters would take out him and his men. They were lucky to have made it out alive.

“They have my Zero Matter.” She didn’t know how they had taken it. All she knew was it was gone. She couldn’t feel it anymore. Couldn’t hear the constant voice telling her what needed to happen next.

“We can’t go back, baby.” Manfredi couldn’t believe he even had to explain that. They had stabbed her in the neck. “They tried to kill you.”

That made up Whitney’s mind. If he wouldn’t take her, she would find her own way back. Her fingers felt weak as she scrabbled at the handle for the truck’s door. She hadn’t eaten anything in days. She hadn’t needed to. Not when she had the Zero Matter to give her strength. But she didn’t have it anymore. Not the power and not the vision.

Manfredi hurried to stomp on the breaks. Stopping the truck before Whitney could fall from the moving vehicle.

Whitney landed heavily in the sand at the side of the road. Skinning knees and palms. She forced herself to her feet. Shoes slipping on the rough ground. She couldn’t feel the Zero Matter anymore, but she knew where she had been when she’d last had it. And they couldn’t have gotten far. She’d find them and she’d get it back and everything would be alright.

Manfredi was right behind her. Barely managing to get the truck in park before he half tumbled out of the truck. They were in the middle of nowhere. Running off like this was a good way to end up wandering like the Israelites.

He caught her by the shoulders. Pulling her to a stop and into his arms. “Whitney, baby, we’ll get it back. We’ve got the scientist. We’ll find out what he knows. Then we’ll hit them where it hurts and get it all back for you.” He cupped her face. The black cracks in her face were gone. Replaced by tender pink skin like a newly healed burn. “You’re gonna run this town, baby. You and me. We can run the world.”

She looked up at Joseph. The only man who had ever really respected her mind. He was right. It wasn’t the Zero Matter that had made her special. She made herself special. She’d gotten herself out of the miserable town she’d grown up in. She’d gotten her worthless husband elected. The Zero Matter had been a resource. She had the retrieved uranium. She could get more. “I need to build a machine.”

Chapter 20: Misinformation

Returning to Stark’s mansion had left everyone more than a little worn out. A long bumpy drive through blistering heat and blowing sand. On the way out to the desert, they’d had two trucks and the sun had been below the horizon. This direction, they had been down a truck and the sun had been at full zenith. It had made for a tight, uncomfortable fit.

Bucky had insisted on driving. His wife at his side with his long gun in her lap. Given that Barnes had always been far and away the best driver, none of them had argued with the assertion. Even if it had meant the front bench seat was largely occupied. Dum Dum had taken the remaining space with an offer to navigate. Only after Morita’s expression of pure terror had made it very clear that he would not be taking his usual place and manning the map if it meant sitting next to Ayame.

Peggy had ended up in the back. Squeezed between Grant and Daniel. Very deliberately not leaning one way or the other. There had been a time when she’d be tucked securely under an arm the same way Ayame was tucked under Barnes’. Fingers linked through the love of her life’s, laughing with the others at their success, instead of battered, shaken, and trying not to think about her side.

Now that they were back at Howard's, she wanted another shower. Grant being invited to help her keep her stitches dry was very much up in the air. She was glad, naturally, that he wasn’t dead. But his continued dodging of her questions was losing its charm. Even if he had opened the door and ushered her through first. She couldn’t stop herself frowning. No one had ever suggested he wasn’t a gentleman. Just that he was hiding something from her.

“Well look at the group of you,” Jack Thompson said from the darkness. “Barnum and Bailey must be down to one ring. Can you give us a moment, guys? I need to have a word with your ringmaster.” Thompson shot a finger gun at Carter. He had her this time. No more rolling her eyes behind his back or sidestepping direct orders.

Grant traded a look with Bucky. He didn’t know about the others, but the two of them and the cylinder with the Zero Matter disappearing didn’t sound like a terrible idea. Bucky nodded in agreement. Slipping the containment device from its place at the small of his wife’s back and palming it into his sleeve. One smooth movement to avoid drawing attention. Gabe, Pinky, and Denier fell out with them. Keeping themselves as a screen between their friends and the man that was clearly a problem.

Peggy stepped to the front of the group. She wanted to shower off the sand clinging to her body, take a nap, and finally sit down with their three out-of-place party members to get a clear answer to why they were here and what they were doing. “Jack, I have neither the time nor the patience right now.”

Jack held up his hard-won file. See, that was Peggy’s problem. She thought she had all the cards when he’d just been dealt a royal flush. “You will.”

“What is it?” It looked like a standard MI6 file. The kind that had come across her desk regularly during the war.

Jack rocked to his feet. Waving the file to keep her eyes on it. “This covers your activities in June 1944.”

June? There had been nothing particularly special about June. Barnes had gotten himself stabbed. Possibly by the woman who was now his wife, if Morita’s mutterings were to be believed. But otherwise, it had been business as usual. They had led the landing at Omaha, which had involved wrangling a film crew along with the regular team. The boys had been in and out twice. She had manned their radio and managed all their ingoing and outgoing intelligence. Twenty-hour days, for weeks at a time. The only person she had trusted to cover for her while she slept or reported had been Rose. “I was in the war. The same as you.”

“You had something on me.” Jack smacked the file into her hands. “Now we’re even.” He didn’t want to arrest her. Didn’t want to fire her. He wanted her to play by the rules for once in her life.

Peggy scanned the file. It was redacted to death. Nearly half of the words blacked out. But she could make out key context. And given the way Thompson was waving it around like a hostage taker’s gun, she assumed her name was somewhere under all that ink. Unfortunately for him. All the context clues in the world couldn’t help her identify an event she’d never heard of, let alone participated in. “And you never thought to question the convenience? Vernon asked you to discredit me, and you locate the ideal report? Whatever this is, it’s a forgery.”

“MI6 didn’t want to give me this.” Jack stabbed at the folder with his forefinger. He’d had to fight for it. Use every connection he could think of to discover its existence and find a way to get a hold of it. If he wasn’t the section chief. If he hadn’t roomed with Edwards at university. If any of a hundred thing had gone just a little differently.

“I made sure they did,” Ayame said. Gliding up beside Peggy and stealing the file for herself. “They were stubborn about it, I’ll admit. I very nearly had to go myself to convince them. But we got them there in the end. Without even making you wait around for days.”

“I’m not falling for slick talk.” Not from either of them. He’d heard the stories. A Fox could talk you into anything if they wanted to. Arson, treason, even murder. And he knew how convincing Peggy could be. If they were a united front, he had to keep his wits about him.

“You are,” Peggy said crisply. That much was indisputable. “Just not from us. You’re willing to believe any phlegm Vernon and his cronies can cough on paper because you’re worried I would betray your trust.” She understood he found it hard to be vulnerable. That his confession in Russia had been a moment of weakness as far as he was concerned, and he feared her using that weakness as leverage. “I wouldn’t.” What he had done during the war was between him and his god. He was far from the only one to treat enemy surrender as a grey area. And she had yet to meet a sentry who didn’t get jumpy on the late watch.

Peggy softened. Jack Thompson had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had clearly spent the last twenty-seven years trying to prove he deserved it. “Chief Thompson, you don’t need to cut corners to get ahead.” All he had to do was be the man she knew he could be. The one Chief Dooley had thought worthy of running the New York S.S.R. before Masters or Jack Sr. had ever thought to put his name forward. “You’re better than that.”

“Can we go back to the part where Mrs. Winters arranged for someone to forge blackmail material on Peggy?” Dum Dum asked. Because honestly, he was more interested in that than whatever vague and nebulous ‘thing’ Thompson thought Carter had on him.

“I had a contact imply that this was their best chance to nip a problem in the bud.” It was a small correction, but an important one, Ayame thought. They were always going to do something to stop Peggy meddling. She’d just pushed for them to work to her schedule rather than their own. “I wanted to see what they’d come up with. The lies we tell reveal so much about what we fear.”

She held the second page up to the light to get a better look at what was behind the redaction. Fascinating. Murder of civilians was a classic. But it wasn’t the obvious card to play against someone with a record as untarnished as Carter’s. And it would cast a shadow on their golden boy, if anyone outside of this room found out. And she doubted they had any plans to stop using Steve for propaganda anytime soon. Ayame had never been a fan of blackmail that hurt you too when it came out. It limited options and gave them back leverage.

She would have leaned towards bribery or exposing classified documents. Which would also give them an excuse to share classified information with the ‘other side.’ Two birds, one stone. But then, she hadn’t given them much time to plan through their ruse. They’d needed to counterfeit the file even if they hadn’t needed to plant it. Their agents in London might have taken more time over it. Made Thompson wait and risked the ire of the council in order to do the job well. Until Ayame had meddled and made them rush.

Rushing meant that whoever had written the document had been forced to work on instinct. Used whatever he, and she was almost certain it had been that weasel Carlisle, could think of off the top of his head. And he had gone with massacring a village in eastern Europe. Which meant that little incident in the Swedish countryside wasn’t an unfortunate accident. It was planned. Or maybe it was more accurate to say it was being planned. Given that nothing would happen for another six months. Either way, Ayame could work with that. If this plan was going to work, they would need leverage of their own.

Amy flipped back to the first page. Worse than telling on themselves, they hadn’t done enough research to have their ploy stand up under any real scrutiny. Yet more evidence that they had planned to threaten Peggy and had expected her to be cowed. Idiots, all of them. “They fudged the timeline. They have you killing thirty women and children on the continent the morning of June 9th.”

“And?” Jack growled. It was an open secret that she’d spent half her time in the field with Colonel Philips. Philips had been in Normandy at the time. Less than a hundred miles away.

“I was in London the evening of June 8th. A dinner party with Prime Minister Churchill and General Eisenhower to celebrate the success of D-Day. I sat between Randolph Churchill and Captain Rogers.” She hadn’t actually been on the guest list. Steve had taken her because he hated attending that sort of thing alone. A move he had only gotten away with because Clementine Churchill hated how unbalanced the war made her dinner table. She had been such a wonderful hostess. Privately, she had commiserated with Peggy about the difficulties of loving such brilliant yet stubborn men. They had talked for fully a half hour over cocktails. The Prime Minister had joined them for the final ten. She was positive both would remember the interaction. General Eisenhower probably would too. Given that Steve had insisted on including her in his conversation about the logistics of liberating Paris. “We weren’t dismissed until three in the morning.”

“Team was more than a little pissed that they got caviar and champagne while we were stuck scrubbing sand off our boots,” Dugan said. He remembered that night. There had been more than a little grumbling when Cap and Carter had been packed onto the first plane back to London. They had been damn close to mutiny, or at least sticking a rat in Cap’s bedroll, before the Sarge had magicked up a bottle of Armagnac and they’d had a party of their own.

Thompson silently opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a reason why that alibi didn’t matter. He couldn’t. The report said the massacre took place at nine in the morning. Even if they’d flow directly from London there was no way they could have made it to the front, let alone a village behind the lines.

“But by all means,” Ayame passed the file back to Thompson without hesitation. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Not a single accusation that would hold up for more than a day or two. A flash in the pan of a scandal, if it could count as a scandal at all. “Finish your job. See what your boss thinks.”

Peggy turned away from Thompson. Ayame was right. Given what was in the file, it was more of an irritation than anything. Given her disobedience the last week, she’d already written off her job at the SSR. And anyone above Thompson’s security clearance would have access to the information that would clear her. Let Jack and Masters waste their time. Her team had more important problems to solve. “Next time, it would be nice if you could inform us of your plan before it is in motion.”

Amy rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard Steve’s lecture on the dangers of compartmentalisation? Filling her in would have required explaining far more than they were ready for. “You sound just like my husband.”

“Have you considered listening to him?” Peggy asked. Already starting towards the sitting room where Barnes and Grant were waiting. For that matter, she was still waiting for her answers, and she doubted she’d get them tonight. At least about larger questions. She had high hopes for finalizing plans for what to do with the Zero Matter. Grant had mentioned something about containment, so they might already have a lead on disposal. If they did, that fell firmly into ‘informing them about the plan beforehand’ territory.

“We very specifically left ‘obey’ out of our vows.” Ayame stretched out her neck. Already drifting vaguely towards the other room. She was done here. Thompson would catch up when he caught up. “And I would think what we’re doing tomorrow is more important than what I did earlier in the week.”

“She’s not wrong,” Happy agreed. Moving to join Ayame and the others in the lounge. “We were in the middle of something before we got that message. Don’t really want to have to explain that we let Dannecker get away to play with a starlet.”

“Heinrich Dannecker?” Ayame hadn’t realised that particular mission was what they were overlapping with. “Were you looking to capture or kill?” She knew the answer, but it reassured people to be able to tell you things.

“Capture,” Dum Dum answered readily. Although if they could talk a sharpshooter as good as the Sarge into tagging along, kill looked a heck of a lot easier. “We think he’s holed up in Poland.”

The others fell into step. Happy to talk through their mission with new eyes after their ‘vacation.’ Even Morita wouldn’t complain about having a kitsune along if she was on their side. Last in line, Pinky closed the door behind them.

Leaving Thompson standing alone with his file. Dazed, and more than a little confused by his dismissal.

Chapter 21: Rest and Recovery

“So,” Bucky leaned back in his chair as the rest of the team filed into the dining room. He lay his arm along the back of the chair next to him. Making it clear where his wife would be sitting. “Odds on Frost taking it on the chin and giving it all up as a bad job.”

“Oh, basically zero, I would assume.” Peggy managed not to groan as she sat down. Which clearly meant she was getting better. She didn’t need to take a break and see an actual doctor about her side. It was fine.

“She’s not really a quitter,” Daniel observed. And she wasn’t working alone. Plus Masters had put all his chips on her number. He wasn’t about to let her stop before he was in the black.

Grant nodded. From what he’d seen, she didn’t act like one. From the research they’d done before crashing this party, neither were the people she’d recruited to help. “Then we can expect another attack.”

“More than possibly,” Peggy agreed. Maybe it was the fatigue, but sitting around a grand dining table like this, planning out something completely improbable with the team, was giving her a distinct feeling of déjà vu.

“Tonight?” Ayame asked, fingers trailing down Bucky’s neck as she sat. She had her suspicions, but Peggy and her team had more hands-on experience with Frost’s operations.

Peggy pursed her lips. Frost was canny, but she wasn’t impulsive. Having suffered a fairly complete setback, she would mostly regroup and replan. On the other hand, she’d been frantic when she’d been dragged away. It was a coin toss if she was acting rationally. Their saving grace was Manfredi. He wasn’t an idiot, and he was fiercely protective of her. He would almost certainly do everything he could to keep her in hand until they had a solid plan. “Unlikely, but we can’t rule it out completely. Tomorrow night, all bets are off.”

Bucky rubbed the back of Amy’s neck. That should be enough breathing room. Everything should be in place to contain the Aether tomorrow. They just had to get through tonight.

Daniel glanced at Peggy, sitting stubbornly upright in her chair. Face that had been pale all day turning ashen. She had been going all day, all week really, without a full night’s sleep and with a gut wound. “Why don’t we set watches for tonight, regroup at breakfast tomorrow to plan properly?”

The group shifted awkwardly. No one disagreeing, but no one wanting to take the responsibility either. Grant watched eyes flick to Bucky and his wife. A mix of distrust, fear, and hope colouring the glances. Not ideal. They’d all need to work together in the future. He wanted them all to feel like they were on the same side. But equally, he didn’t want anyone relying on Ayame, Bucky, and their uncanny knowledge of the future to solve their problems. Someone needed to come up with a plan that balanced both sides.

Grant set the ornate cylinder in the middle of the table. Was he a captain, or wasn’t he? He found Ayame’s eyes and raised one eyebrow meaningfully. She dipped her lashes in agreement. Silently surrendering custody of the Aether for at least the night. “I want rotating watches all night. Two on at all times, four-hour watches, two-hour overlap.”

“Wonderful.” Peggy sat forward in her chair. Side protesting the whole time. She would admit, she wasn’t at her best right now. But she was reluctant to let the Zero Matter out of her sight. Especially after that little stunt Mrs. Winters played with the dossier. Admittedly, it wouldn’t hold up to even a cursory scrutiny and it did say interesting things about what Masters and his cronies were worried about. But she didn’t like when other people operated without keeping her informed. Hypocritical as that dislike was. “I’ll—”

“You’ll get your ass to bed,” Grant cut off sharply. Softening as soon as he got the words out. “You’re on the injured list, Pegs. You need to rest and let yourself recover. You’re no good to anyone if you burn yourself out.”

Peggy opened her mouth to argue. Then closed it again when she saw the worry in his eyes. The last time she had seen that particular look of worry, she’d been in the middle of having a cast applied to her broken left wrist. Spinning an elaborate yarn for the nurse managing the cast about tripping down the stairs at the war office. An absolutely distraught Steve hovering in the corner of the room. Moments away from hyperventilating. She was hurt. And he blamed himself. She nodded once. It was one night. She could let the others keep watch while she rested for one night. “As you say, Captain.”

Good. That was that settled. “I’ll take dawn.” Always the least popular. Four to eight was a miserable time to be awake. But it was also when anything was most likely to happen. “Who wants split?”

Morita raised his hand. He wouldn’t be ready to sleep any time soon anyway. And in all likelihood the same anxieties would have him up before the sun.

Dum Dum and Gabe took the next two shifts, then Happy and Monty, with Pinky bringing up the rear.

Grant nodded. Good. That was the whole night covered. “No heroics. Any disturbance, anything that even looks like a disturbance, sound the alarm.”

Bucky watched Ayame shift in her chair. Shoulders down and back. Neck long. That little flex of her fingers. It hadn’t been enough of a fight. And even as part of the plan, letting a civilian push her around had probably bruised his baby girl’s pride.

“Right.” Bucky rocked to his feet and offered a hand to Amy. “If that’s all figured out, I’m going to take my wife for a run before she snaps and kills you all.”

He clapped Morita on the neck as he said it. It was a joke. Amy would never hurt his friends or assets so valuable to their mission. And also it wasn’t. Baby girl was stressed, and when she was stressed, she got violent. Her nails dragged down his back when she tucked herself against his side. Maybe violent wasn’t the right word for it. Aggressive might be closer. And he would happily help her work out some of that aggression.

*****

Bucky let her maintain her stiff-spined façade until they were standing on the pool deck. The two of them alone. Their primary target secure. Secondary objectives stable for now. He and his baby girl could indulge themselves a little. Steal a couple hours for themselves. Have the fun they hadn’t been able to since he’d gotten back. He could scare away some of the tension that was haunting her. He grabbed her around the waist. Dragged her in against him. Bit her lower lip teasingly. She was his pretty Fox, and he was her handsome wolf. Two predators on the hunt for each other. “Going to run for me, doll? Let me catch you?”

“Going to make you work for it,” Amy purred into the space between them. She liked the idea of a run. Of keeping just out of reach until neither of them could bear it anymore. Of letting him turn the smouldering energy in her chest into something beautiful.

Work for it? For her love and affection? A place at her side and in her bed? Bucky opened his arms to set her free. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. Well, he could. But Stevie was in Paris, so there was no one to compete against for the love, not until they tied things up here. “Ten.”

Ayame's eyes flashed wickedly. That predatory glint got her every time. She backed out of his hold. Letting her fingers trail down his sides until she couldn’t reach anymore. “Nine.”

Bucky licked his lips. They were going to have a lot of fun. “Eight.”

And Ayame was gone. Over the back wall and into the scrubland beyond the mansion’s grounds in a shot. Completely vanishing into the darkening night.

Bucky kept the rest of his count silent. Amy knew the rhythm they had set. She knew exactly how much of a head start she had. Knew he was coming. Bucky cracked his neck. Rolled out his shoulders. Knew he was always right behind her.

*****

He let her run for miles before he finally caught her. Tugging at her coat tails when he got close. Chasing her up and down trees and cliffs. Flirting with her in a language they both spoke. And she flirted right back. All shining eyes and flashing teeth in the dark. Dancing just out of reach. Dodging playfully around him. Barely slipping away when he went to grab her.

When they finally collided, they were almost back to the mansion. Less than a block from their waiting bed. Bucky scooped Amy off her feet. A triumphant growl rolling through his chest. Amy’s ringing laugh pouring gasoline on the embers in his gut. He was taking his wife to bed, this instant.

*****

As soon as the door closed behind them, Bucky got Amy crushed against him properly. Left arm around her slim waist, right already working to strip off the clothes that were keeping him from her. A dark greedy sensation smouldered in the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of their first night. Steve was missing, but that same electric need was there. The same bone deep mix of lust and love that had made him lose his head and ask for the impossible. Only it wasn’t impossible. It was his life. Their life. No one was going to stop him from having her. Or her from having him. The first thing that needed to go were his gloves. He needed to feel her. Really feel her.

Amy kissed and nuzzled Bucky’s neck and jaw. Growling with anticipation. For the first time in a long time, she had her Bucky. And she needed him. He felt it too. That post-battle buzz that filled the blood and made her want to feel alive.

Bucky loved how Amy looked wrapped in her gi jacket. He loved it better on the floor. The same with the linen undershirt. Both fell away when he tugged at the knots holding them. He didn’t have to snap anything this time. But then, his girl hadn’t been angry and frustrated when she’d tied these knots. And he didn’t have a desperate Steve latched onto his neck complicating things. Just his pretty, eager girl. Happy to help Bucky have his way.

He wished Steve was here. Helping as much as hindering. But their guy wouldn’t begrudge Bucky not sharing for one night. He never did.

Amy rubbed against Bucky. Hungry, but not for food. For him. She wanted him. His hands. His mouth. His love. “Bucky.”

Bucky couldn’t deny his girl anything. But especially when she said his name so sweetly. He shoved his hand down her pants. Fingers sliding into her wetness. He moaned at how worked up she was. Dropping his head to nip at her equally excited nipples. He wanted to tear down her reserve the way he’d torn off her clothes. Let his girl lose herself in them.

Bucky pulled her flush against his body. She was well on her way to losing herself already. Letting out little mewling whimpers. Her head tucking against his neck and hands fisting in his shirt. Her breathing hitched and shook. A tremble starting in her thighs. His thumb rubbed at her clit. Middle two fingers curling inside her.

Stars sparkled behind Ayame’s eyes. Floating flecks of light replacing the bubbles already filling her veins. The climax she’d been craving finally finding her. No world existing outside of him and the fingers bringing her such magic.

That was his girl. Bucky pressed kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids. Covered her face with love as she came back down.

“More,” Amy pleaded. Legs not quite holding her. Which was fine. She trusted Bucky to hold her weight. And to give her what she wanted. What they both wanted. She could feel his erection pressed against her hip.

“Fuck.” A horrible realisation almost snapped Bucky out of the moment. This night was like that first night in more than one way. Bucky was pissed at himself for not thinking of it sooner, but he wasn’t prepared, and he didn’t think Aims was either. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Steve and I stopped using them.” Amy slid her hands down his abs. And she would never deny one of her boys something she gave the other.

“Seriously, baby girl?” Bucky combed his fingers through her hair. God, he’d missed so much. A whole life together. A million little victories. A million tiny hurts. It would take him time to learn all of them. But he would. Starting with this one.

“About a week ago.” They’d talked about it before that. When they’d been trying to piece together what their life looked like without Bucky in it. Then the possibility of having Bucky back had collided with the reality of what they were risking, and protection had felt like the least of their problems.

She wasn’t worried about it now either. Not with Bucky stroking the small of her back. There really was no point. They should probably be careful when it was the three of them. It would be inconvenient for Amy to get pregnant when they didn’t know how long they would be away from home. But that wasn’t a risk with her sweet Bucky baby. And she didn’t want to worry. Not tonight. All she wanted was Bucky.

Bucky swept her off her feet and deposited her in the middle of the bed. Happy for a myriad of reasons. Long term, their family was growing. They were going to have another baby to love, and watch grow. A little brother or sister for their Lilypad.

Short term, he had his wife, and nothing was going to come between them. Bucky slid into her in one long stroke. Hot and wet and tight and without anything separating him from her. He breathed her in. Dug his fingers into her hip to hold her in place. Revelled in the feel of her hands roaming over him. Stroked, and kissed, and moved, until his girl was a writhing mess underneath him.

He stared deep into her eyes. Watching as the pleasure overtook her. Bliss turning those perfect purple eyes dark and glassy. Feeling her tighten, shake, and melt into a beautiful, sated puddle. All loose-limbed contentment. He drove into her one last time. Not worrying about pulling out as he followed her into that blissful state.

*****

The guest room they’d been given wasn’t the best in the house. Sharing a bathroom with three others on the hall rather than having one of its own, but there was a basin and pitcher on the dresser. Room temperature water and old-fashioned soap. Not what Bucky would choose to clean up his picky girl if he had options. But the cloth was soft. It would get his girl clean so she could sleep happy.

Amy rolled onto her stomach as Bucky finished wiping her legs. She was tired now. Adrenaline and attention draining out of her. Replaced by the sweet contentment of being ravaged by one of her boys. She could sleep for a week.

Bucky kissed her shoulder. His perfect little Fox. A couple hours rest, then they could get back to it. Round up the team. Make the hop to London. Get the Commandos back to Brasov before anyone missed them. Hook back up with Steve and the shiny new identity he was putting together for Grant. “You sleep, baby girl. I’m going to go call Stevie.”

“Mon Ours, Mon Loup, ” Ayame mumbled, snuggling into the blankets. Already more than half asleep.

Bucky knew exactly what she meant. He felt the same way. In love and loved. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

*****

It was three in the morning, but Bucky wasn’t actually surprised that the butler was still hanging around the entrance hall. It was hard to turn off after the kind of week he’d had. Especially when you weren’t used to it. The instinct to check that the doors and windows were all secure was one he understood. Even in Wakanda, he’d swept the apartment for threats between Sayuri’s story time and getting into bed with his people.

Bucky clapped Jarvis on the shoulder. He didn’t need to worry about security. Bucky would do a sweep when he was done here. That’s why they were here instead of just swooping in at the end to tie up loose ends. To keep the civilians safe. “Mind if I use the phone? I need to make a long-distance call. A private one.”

“Of course, sir.” Jarvis bowed him into the office. Mr. Stark had instructed him to do everything he could to make his friends comfortable, and so he would. It was, at the very least, something he was trained to do.

Flopping into the chair by the phone, Bucky dialled zero. He already missed his kimoyo beads and the phone Ayame had given him. He wouldn’t even have had to leave his baby girl to make this call in their time. He could have hit two buttons, pulled her onto his chest, and put the call on speaker. Felt her fall asleep while he caught Steve up. Hell, Steve could have been on speaker for the last hour, encouraging them and participating from afar. He didn’t have much time to resent the century, the operator answered almost immediately. Greeting him with a brisk efficiency. Bucky dropped into the chair next to the phone. Not the voice he wanted to hear, but they were on their way. “Long distance, please. France.”

*****

Steve hurried down the stairs behind the disgruntled hotel clerk. He didn’t know why the man was so irritated. It was the middle of the day. And Steve wasn’t going to tie up the line all afternoon. Probably. Twenty minutes, half an hour, tops.

He slipped the man a five franc note as he took the receiver, earning him a begrudging nod, significantly less grumbling, and hopefully a little privacy for this call. “This is Winters.”

“Hey, punk,” Bucky purred in response.

“Hey, trouble,” Steve laughed. God, just his people’s voices made him feel lighter. “How did it go?”

“You know how baby girl gets when she’s working. All serious and focused, until you just want to pull her pigtails.” Steve could see Bucky in his mind’s eye. Draped sideways across an armchair. Phone tucked between shoulder and ear. The picture of predatory indolence. The only thing missing was Amy laying across his chest. If she was there, he would have heard her chuckle at the praise, even down the crackling line.

“Tell me?” Because Steve wanted to hear it all. He knew the plan, but plan and execution were always so far apart. And because Bucky was right. Aims in full battle cry was a heady thing.

Bucky told him the story. Every gory detail. How bright Peggy shone. How good ‘Grant’ was to her. How all the others were doing. What Daniel was like. The fun Buck had had taking care of Frost’s goons. How Frost had reacted to being foiled. Most of all how amazing their girl had been.

Steve wished he could have been there to see it. To know that they were safe and lavish them both with the pride filling his chest. “Kiss her for me?”

“Already did more than that tonight,” Bucky chuckled into the phone. A sound like molten dark chocolate pouring over Steve. “Little Fox gets greedy after a fight. Gave her what she wanted and left her purring like a kitten. All sweet and content.”

Steve knew exactly what he meant. He loved their girl after a fight. There was a reason most of their runs ended in locations where they wouldn’t be interrupted, and their sparring led to showering together. And that was just practice. He’d had nail marks on his back for a week after the last time she’d been in the field. God, he could almost taste her.

“We’ll see you in London?” Bucky asked, some of the playfulness replaced with wistful longing.

“As soon as I’m done,” Steve promised himself as much as Bucky. The sooner he was back with them the better.

“‘Til the end of the line, Stevie.” Bucky definitely wasn’t playful now. The words were as good as a caress.

Steve wished he could lean into Bucky’s touch. Feel that love as more than words on a staticky call. “‘Til the end of the line.”

Chapter 22: Modes of Transportation

Daniel arrived for breakfast and briefing at quarter after seven. While most of the team was still barely, blearily awake. Peggy was up and dressed, thanks in no small part to Grant, who had knocked on her door just after six to see if she needed anything. Which she had. Pull over shirts were murder just now. But Monty was face down in his coffee, Pinky was smoking with his eyes mostly closed, Happy had answered her ‘good morning’ with a grunt, and Dum Dum was loading down his plate with scrambled eggs like they were the only thing that were going to get him though the day.

Irritatingly, Barnes and his wife looked irrationally well-rested. Bucky was neatly dressed in grey slacks, a sharply pressed shirt with no tie, and the gloves he insisted on. His wife seemed rather out of place, wearing the same heavy canvas pants she had worn the day before, another close fitted sleeveless top, a gold chain that appeared to support a heavy pendant of some kind disappearing down the front, and the tough quilted jacket she had belted over the ensemble yesterday folded over the back of her chair. He kept his hand on her back as they moved around the generous breakfast buffet an anxious Jarvis had conjured. She shot flirtatious looks at him through her eyelashes and curled indecently close to his side when they settled at the table. It was enough to drive Peggy, who had jerked awake every time she moved thanks to her side and was now seated rather tensely between Grant and Daniel, perfectly irritable.

Better to focus on the task at hand, rather than dwell on exactly why she felt so very jealous of that particular brand of quietly confident affection. “How do we stop Frost from simply retrieving the Zero Matter?”

Amy sat up straighter in her chair. That was simple enough. “Take it to London—well Salisbury—” Amy waved off the detail dismissively. London to Salisbury was a short drive, and she wouldn’t risk getting any closer with her intended primary mode of transportation. Not when the bindings on the Aether were already frayed. One hole in reality was as good as another. “And return it to the prison it was released from.”

“You make it sound like it’s alive.” Daniel looked around the table. Hoping for someone to contradict him. Tell him just how crazy he sounded.

Grant shared a look with Bucky. They had taken nearly three full days talking this over with the Ancient One before they’d settled on this plan. Ayame and the Ancient One had attempted to explain the nature of the Infinity Stones. He still wasn’t sure he fully got it. Not when Ayame’s explanations largely tapered off into the words ‘they’re pure power’ and a shrug. “It isn’t not alive.”

Monty licked his lips. Salisbury. A semi-sentient magical power and one of the oldest sights in Britain. It made a certain unfortunate sense. He might not be the authority on the matter, but he knew who he’d ask about it given the chance. What he did know, was these things were never just a matter of right place, right time. Or if it was, it was a very specific place and time. “You have everything required to secure it?”

Grant flicked his eyes at Ayame, calmly stirring her tea. They’d gone over it a few times ironing out the details. The Aether would reabsorb into itself, then they could seal it all off with Jack Churchill’s sword. At least it sounded straight forward. “We’ve got it in hand.”

“And how do you intend to get to London?” Because Peggy didn’t have access to a plane capable of transatlantic flight. At least not one large enough for all of them. And they did all need to go. If nothing else, the Commandos needed to be back in Europe before anyone noticed they weren’t where they were supposed to be.

A two-minute phone call made by Ayame later, just enough time for everyone to grab their gear, and Peggy had her answer.

A million more questions than she’d had before the phone call. But one distinct and clear answer. Apparently, they were getting to London by swirling magical portal. The arch of copper sparks had started slowly. A few sparks of lights in the middle of the long wall. At first, Peggy had assumed it was her eyes playing tricks on her. Then it had grown brighter. More flashing sparks spiralling outward to form a solid disk. A dark spot growing in the centre. The ring of light expanded. Darkness materializing into a room Peggy had never seen before. One that didn’t even pretend to belong in Stark’s mansion.

Bucky flipped the cylinder into his hand. Engraved ridges on the outside biting into the leather of his glove. “After you, baby girl.”

Ayame didn’t hesitate to walk through the portal, Bucky right behind her. The sooner the Aether was returned and stable, the better. She could already see a slight shimmer out of the corner of her eye. The walls between universes growing thin.

Peggy watched them stop on the other side of the opening. Bucky placing one hand on the small of his wife’s back. The other coming up to cup her face as he whispered something. Amy shook her head. Kissing his wrist lovingly. Not the most comforting exchange when you were about to follow someone through a mysterious portal. But they both seemed fine. Limbs and extremities all in place.

Determined, Peggy turned to Daniel. It was possible this was a horrible mistake. It was also probable it was the best solution to their problem. Worth the risk, better to have layers of plan in place. “Stay here. Keep any eye on Frost. I know Mr. Jarvis and Doctor Wilkes aren’t exactly a crack commando squad but they’re something. And you have Rose. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Daniel swallowed once. Then nodded. She had to go. He understood. “Stay safe.”

Peggy touched his arm softly. She could never have done this without him. There was no one else she would trust while she was away. She turned back to the portal. He had this. She had the Zero Matter. Forcing herself to breath regularly, even though it made her side ache, she stalked through the portal.

Grant gazed after her. Absolutely fearless. God, he loved her. “You know she can’t promise that.”

“I know.” If Daniel had learned anything about Peggy over the last two years, it was that she was a force of nature all her own.

Grant nodded for the rest of the team to follow Peggy. Troopers that they were, they fell in promptly. Marching through in two neat lines.

Grant patted Daniel on the shoulder. He’d done great this week. Not quite over yet, but they were close. “Shouldn’t be long. Tomorrow, maybe the next day.”

Grant jogged to catch up with Dum Dum at the end of the line. The sooner they got to Salisbury, the sooner they’d be back.

The portal spiralled closed. Leaving Daniel standing in an empty dining room. The only evidence that anyone else had been here, the dirty dishes on the table.

“Oh.” Jarvis froze just inside the door. He’d made more coffee. Apparently, he hadn’t needed to. “They’re all gone.”

“Yup.” They were. And Daniel got to hold the fort all on his lonesome. Again.

*****

Stepping through the portal, Monty found himself in familiar surroundings. Formal sitting rooms in the English style were something he had spent most of his life around. Dark, wood-panelled walls hung with paintings in heavy frames. Furniture that was just approaching needing to be reupholstered. A clutter of expensive but largely useless objects filling the flat surfaces. He'd spent hundreds of hours in rooms just like this during the war alone. Well, almost just like this. None of the sitting rooms he'd visited either during his youth or during the war had held sparking portals or six-foot-tall women with no hair dressed like the monks they had met in Tibet.

Oddly, she was not the most out of place thing in the room. The most out of place thing in this particular room, was something, or rather someone, he had encountered in many a sitting room. Sword and all. Normally, he'd be thrilled to discover his love waiting for him. But a midnight phone call the night before Monty's leave had been over and had shipped off for the continent had allegedly taken Jack to the very tip of Scotland for the foreseeable future. Off on a wild goose chase watching for Soviet submarines. They'd commiserated his rustication. Jack had kissed him goodbye and promised to send a postcard if he could. He very much should not be here.

And he was wearing the damn sword. Which meant this wasn't a pleasant coincidence. "Jack?"

Jack shook his head ever so slightly. Shifting his grip on the hilt of his sword. Not now. They would talk about it. But not now.

“Everything is in order?” Amy asked, striding towards the stand where her naginata was waiting. Mobility had been more important than reach for the initial retrieval in Los Angeles, and opted for her swords. For what came next, she wanted the extra area of control.

Jack dropped to one knee. The last time Excalibur had compelled him to do something for the Lady of the Lake, it had been a simple matter of rescuing an ancient amulet before the Germans could get their hands on it. This was significantly more critical. “The area has been cleared and secured, my lady.”

“Excellent.” That had been the main sticking point. It might not be the Disneyfied attraction it had become in her time, but the gateway still attracted more civilians than was healthy. Thankfully her family wasn’t entirely alone in their mission to keep the TVA from ‘realigning’ their universe. “We’ll have to hold strong for the entirety of the ritual. If the circle drops before the Aether is fully contained, it will escape. And…” Amy paused, debating how to explain Dark Elves and the TVA without having to explain either. Neither was a door she wanted to open until they’d established who needed to know what. So far, the Howling Commandos had gone along with everything, but there were lines it was hard to cross without real explanation. “...interested parties… will be attracted.”

Jack pulled himself up to full attention. “There appears to be movement that way already. We’ve rebuffed one assault aimed at Braddock Castle.”

Dum Dum and Morita had their heads together, muttering over the paper with their original orders, comparing the time on their watches, and growing increasingly anxious. Finally, Dum Dum cleared his throat. "How long is all this going to take?"

"A day. Maybe a little longer.” Hopefully less, but Grant preferred to err on the side of caution. Things never went the way you wanted them to. Especially things as complicated as the ritual Ayame and the Ancient One had explained.

Dum Dum shot a worried look at Happy who grimaced in agreement. They were already pushing it. They needed to transmit their check-in by noon tomorrow or people would start looking for them. They were already going to have to explain why they were late. "You need us, Cap? Peggy?"

Peggy shared a look with Grant. No one wanted the team reported as AWOL. Especially not when they hadn't entirely dealt with the target on her back. She didn't want her reputation tarnishing theirs. Grant shrugged. Which was enough of an answer for her. The four – five – of them could deal with containing the Zero Matter.

Ayame turned to the Ancient One. That solved that problem. “Auntie, would you please assist my friends in returning to Poland. Five degrees past the astral line.”

“Of course, dear.” The Ancient One smiled at her benevolently. She had been keeping an eye on things from afar. They had done marvellous, getting this far without falling back on the Time Stone. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but she had utmost faith in their ability to return the Aether cleanly.

She rotated the hand with her sling ring and flicked her wrist. Not the formal precise technique ‘required’ to open a portal. Directing the energies of the universe were more a matter of mastering your intent than executing the forms exactly as they were laid out in the instructional scrolls. The Ancient One had been perfecting her mastery since before the old gods fell. The world folded, sparks of power framing the circle where two places that shouldn’t touch came together. A cookie-cutter hole punched out of the fireplace wall and was replaced with an opening to a forest in Eastern Europe.

Dum Dum’s jaw dropped. That was their camp site. The fire pit they had put out when the call had come in. All their gear piled neatly to one side of the clearing, even the things they’d left in Los Angeles. Everything right where it should be.

You know what, Gabe wasn’t going to question it. After this week, he wasn’t going to question anything. He was going to be happy they weren’t about to get called up for court martial and that they were going to arrest someone the war tribunals had been looking for since the end of the war.

Grant hugged each of his old friends. “Stay out of trouble. We’ll be in touch.”

“And follow the women.” Bucky looked over at his little Fox. He and Stevie had been on the run for very different reasons, but they had been on the run. And she had gone with them to the ends of the earth to keep them happy and safe. “His wife might not know where he is, but it’s weird that his mistress is moving to Yugoslavia when she doesn’t speak the language.” Tony Stark had been the only one to question Ayame’s decision to move to the middle of nowhere. And he’d been the only one to come close to catching them.

Dum Dum’s chest swelled with hope. For months, he’d felt like he’d been going through the motions. Getting the job done, but without the purpose they’d had during the war. This week, he’d gotten some of it back. “It’s good to have you back, Cap, Sarge.”

Bucky punched him in the shoulder. They were back, and they weren’t. It would be hard on them when they found out. He was glad they didn’t have to break their hearts yet. “What are you doing standing around? Fall out.”

Dum Dum saluted one last time. A sharp, precise movement packed with all the respect he had for his newly resurrected friends. One by one, the rest of the Howling Commandos followed him. Saluting and stepping through the portal.

Jack grabbed Monty by the elbow, drawing him just out of the stream of people. “I will explain. There’s just rather a lot going on.” He touched the hilt of his sword meaningfully. Monty knew. When the sword was involved, Jack didn’t always have a choice.

Monty wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill or kiss the man. “You had better. Otherwise, I will be more than cross.”

And not just what he was doing here. Clearly, Jack knew Bucky’s mysterious wife. Monty wanted to know who she was and how she had won over Sarge so completely. Jim was convinced she was the devil; if she was manipulating Bucky somehow, Monty wanted to know.

Jack flicked his eyes around the room. It was a risk. He didn’t really know the Fox or the Ancient One. But it was worth it. He stole a quick kiss on Monty’s cheek. A brush of lips they’d never risked in public. “I promise. I love you.”

Peggy tried not to feel anxious as the portal closed behind her team. They didn’t need them. Probably didn’t need them. And yet she missed them already. She’d been overwhelmingly grateful when they had arrived to rescue her at the Roxxon facility. But they had largely solved that problem. ‘Putting the Aether back’ hardly sounded life-threatening. They’d make sure Frost couldn’t access the Zero Matter, then she’d head back to Los Angeles and ensure there were no other routes for her to cause mayhem. She could more than manage that with the little group she had left.

Grant retrieved the round leather bag that had been leaning in the corner of the room the last few days. Out of the way, waiting for him to come back. No point in dawdling. They had a universe to protect. “Ready to get to it?”

Chapter 23: Matter and Aether

Stepping into the middle of Stonehenge was disconcerting. Peggy had been here once on a school trip. Even as a child, she had recognized the wonder of the space. The sheer scale of the monument. Now, with the setting sun pouring through the western-most stone gate, it was even more clear that this was no ordinary place. She had wondered then, what exactly the ancients had used it for. A temple? A fortress? A portal to another world? ...or apparently, a prison for an ancient evil. “Here?”

“Where else?” Jack answered. Salisbury was secure, close enough to the nexus of power in London to offer easy access, but far enough away that it would take a major disturbance in Earth’s energy currents to disturb the protections. It was a few hours from Braddock Castle and the permanent gateway there. Close enough that he could check in regularly on his way to his cousins’.

Striding across the open turf, Jack drew his sword. Setting sun glinting on the steel’s edge. Blade in hand, he crossed to the stone altar. The rock glowing almost red in the evening light as he took his place. And he waited. He might have a duty to protect and defend this land, but he couldn’t break ancient magic on his own. There were layers to the protections on this place. Fail safes to stop a rouge descendant of the knighthood from thinking they could bend the powers of the universe to their will. He needed the Fox, and she needed him.

Amy stepped forward. Duty resting on her shoulders like a mantle. She curled her hand around the blade. Squeezing until the edge broke her skin. Dark pearls of her blood running down the steel. The sacrifice required.

Jack plunged the sword into the stone slab. The metal sliding in without resistance. Opening the lock that had so long ago been sealed.

A vision briefly flashed before Peggy’s eyes. The great Stones of the circle, freshly cut. Their angles crisp and sides polished smooth. Between the stones, men in shining armour stood at attention. A priestess overlaid Ayame. Long black hair and white silk robes fluttering in the breeze. Her hands were filled with something like mercury. A dark but shining liquid that bubbled and roiled. Droplets leaping free from the surface, spiralling through the air or orbiting her like tiny planets. Zero Matter. No. Not Zero Matter. Something older. What had Ayame called it? Aether.

Peggy should have felt more afraid than she did. But she had Grant with his shield on one side, Bucky and his rifle on the other, her own pistol on her hip. Grant squeezed her fingers. Even more confident than she was that everything would be alright. The pressure of his hand on hers so familiar, helping to anchor her in the reality of the moment. Really, considering some of the things they’d seen Hydra attempt during the war, it wasn’t that odd at all.

Even as the vision faded, some of the disorientation remained. Wind still whipped at Ayame’s white hair, tugged at Peggy’s blouse. While outside the circle, the air seemed perfectly still.

Bucky set his jaw. He wished the Ancient One had come with them. He knew she had other responsibilities. That theirs wasn’t the only crisis in the world, just the one that put his wife in the most danger. He was sure Ayame and Jack could manage it on their own. He’d still be happier with a magic expert on site.

Ayame twisted the end of the containment unit. Releasing the Zero Matter.

It leapt into the air. A shifting, writhing rope of dark mercury. Droplets broke off. Whirling around the main body to produce a deep thrum. Not a noise, but a pressure in the ears. A power older than the earth calling for itself.

The rest of the Aether streamed out of the altar stone. Oozing its way past Jack’s sword like gushing oil. The Zero Matter plunged into it. Melding into a single cohesive puddle that slowly piled upon itself. Not bound by anything as mundane as gravity. It roiled and churned. Surface shimmering with crimson light. The glow coming from within rather than the setting sun. Its movements were chaotic, but not purposeless. It radiated ominous intent along with bloody light.

The mass of it barrelled towards Ayame. She stood her ground. Empty cylinder held loose at her side, expression serene.

It stopped a scant inch from her face. Spreading thin and recoiling back on itself. As if there were a sheet of glass between it and her. Her Grandmother’s blessing protecting her, as long as she lived up to the family expectations. No flinching. No weakness. Her will was stronger than a single Infinity Stone. And her will was that it stayed here and contained. It would bend before she broke.

Jack gritted his jaw. Concentrating on closing the gate he had just opened. The Fox would hold off the Aether. He had to believe that, otherwise he’d just unleashed pure elemental power into the English countryside and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it. Empires and tyrants would descend on them. All seeking to take the Aether for their own. None of them caring what happened to the humans in their way. Jack wrenched the sword a quarter turn. The faster he did his job, the easier hers would be. The less risk there was to their world.

With the screaming sound of a racing freight train, the Aether rushed back into the stone. Sucked away. Water draining from a tub played back at double speed. The last drops melting away with a sinister hiss.

Jack yanked Excalibur free. Stumbling back from the altar. He could feel the bars of energy, slamming shut in his wake. The prison once again locked. It was done. It had worked.

The atmosphere deflated. There was no other word for it. One moment Peggy's lungs seemed ready to burst with the power in the air. The next… she was standing in the English countryside. The evening sky slowly darkening. Nightingales singing the first strains of their song.

It was odd, the evening was cool. A slight dampness already rising off the grass, but she would swear there was a heat haze shimmering behind Ayame and Jack.

*****

Amy watched a disturbance fade into view out of the corner of her eye. The air shimmered. The same disturbance popping up in other scattered patches around the ring. Heat haze or a mirage.

Or reality tearing itself open to spill attackers into Stonehenge’s inner circle.

Ayame crossed her wrists in front of her chest. She knew the forms. They were nearly identical to the ones she danced when she practiced that art. She held the power gently, in elegant fingers. Drew her hands past each other to open the Eye. Shifting her stance as she braced for the power. The reality of time raced through her. The element made malleable.

She rolled her wrist. Scattering shimmering green magic like thrown playing cards. The planes stuck into the ground at even intervals. Expanding to fill the space between the stones with translucent walls. Folding in above the arches to form a faceted emerald dome. Sealing this moment off from the wider timeline. Containing the emergency.

Bucky brought his rifle to his cheek. First shots off before the lead TVA agent made it fully into their universe. They were fighting smarter than they had last time. Splitting themselves into clusters of two or three rather than coming at her in a single rush. Harder to bottle neck. Nothing his little Fox couldn’t handle.

Probably. Most of her attention seemed to be on the barrier she had erected. Her naginata leaning against her side rather than levelled at the threat.

Bucky lined up another shot. She didn’t have to handle it alone. She had him, and they had friends. He was glad he didn’t have to wear gloves this time. They were hours away from filling Peggy in on everything, and Jack knew enough about Ayame’s family that he wouldn’t even blink. He might write the arm off as magic rather than a genius teenage girl’s reinterpretation of a Hydra invention. But magic made more sense than 70 years of torture and a palace full of flying cars, even to someone who had lived those years and found a home among those cars.

Peggy felt her jaw go slack. She’d been wondering what was motivating Ayame in all this. She had her answer. A deeply concerning answer that would require significantly more explanation. Those people weren’t Hydra and they weren’t Soviets. They were clearly here to kill at least Ayame and given their lack of concern for where their shots were landing and the destruction their shots caused, she assumed they were fine with collateral damage in that attempt, if not planning to kill significantly more people once their main obstacle was taken out. “Who—"

“It’s complicated.” Grant managed to get his shield up just in time to block a ball of light speeding their way. It felt heavier than normal, but thank god the vibranium had never let him down.

“Don’t let them get to altar,” Jack called. Sword out as he rushed to engage the enemy. Barnes seemed to be doing a reasonably good job of defending the Fox, but he could feel the air starting to crackle with a second wave.

That was a clear and simple directive. Peggy didn’t need to know who they were to dissuade them from approaching the stone slab. She had her pistol. They were bright orange targets for her to aim at. She stepped into the shelter offered by Grant and his shield. Trusting him to stop anything hitting her, while she concentrated on hitting them.

Two more TVA agents fell and disappeared into dust. Bucky couldn’t wait to get back to those flying cars. To a world made happy and safe for their Lilypad. Jack cut down his next target before Bucky could get off the shot. That left eight. Bucky trained his scope on the next one, mentally packing a bag for their next family trip to the park. Sayuri hated her hat, but sun protection was important. He shot the agent making a play for Amy. Two bullets faster than a blink. And a nice big blanket for all four of them to sit on. Family nap time in the park. A return to their lost paradise if not to Wakanda.

The way Amy was holding the metaphysical barrier, meant that while the TVA could get in, they couldn’t get out. The way the TVA’s gates worked, their agents could see what was happening to the ones pushed through before them. They were starting to bottleneck themselves even with the better portal arrangements. Coming in fits and starts rather than a steady stream. Bucky kept lining up shots. Trading targets with Jack and Peggy. Keeping the area around Ayame and the altar clear. Holding the centre so she could hold the perimeter.

The thing Peggy was noticing most about this fight, aside from the fact the bodies seemed to evaporate once they hit the ground, was the variety of body types coming through. The uniforms were all the same, beetle-like black armour and helmets with flashes of orange insignia. But that was where military homogeny ended. Some were short. Some tall. Skinny and fat. Men and women. Skin tones in every shade Peggy had ever seen and many she hadn’t. She swore the one she had just shot had been green. The one coming through the west-most portal had four arms.

The waves and storms of attackers started to slow. First in number per wave, then the respite between waves started to lengthen. Until it felt more like mopping up a trickle than trying to hold back a dam.

Finally, even the trickle stopped. Peggy made eye contact with the next opponent, hesitating on the threshold. A tall, tawny-skinned man with hair like feathers. His hands were shaking, she wasn’t sure if her bullet would go through the portals given that they couldn’t get back through. Either way it felt wrong to shoot him when he was just standing there. Especially when she wasn’t sure he’d be coming through at all. There was a long moment where they just stared at each other.

Then he lunged to the side. Hands slamming into something next to his side of the portal. The sides of the portals immediately started to collapse. Narrowing until the openings were vertical glowing lines. Even that disappeared in the blink of an eye.

An eerie stillness settled over the ring. All traces of combat gone. Not even a breeze stirring the air between the stones.

Ayame flicked her wrist. The protective perimeter shattering into sparkling shards as she dismissed it. And the stillness became natural. The peace of the English countryside. This fight was over, without any outward indication that it had happened at all.

Bucky slung his rifle over his shoulder. They should have brought Stevie with them. Yeah, establishing Grant’s cover was important, but so was this. Their baby girl was carrying the weight of the world. They should be taking as much of it off her shoulders as possible. She looked like she was about to faint. And maybe he was just on edge and overreacting, but Steve being here would help with that too.

Amy raised a hand. Waving her husband back before he could rush up and start fretting over her. She was fine. She just needed a moment to get her breath back. The Infinity Stones played better with her natural powers than most magics, but it was still more like standing in front of a fire hose than was comfortable.

“Well,” Jack sheathed Excalibur in a smooth motion. One of the benefits of facing off against extra dimensional enemies was their habit of disintegrating eliminated the need to clean the blade. Much easier than extraterrestrial threats with their odd coloured and sticky ichors. “That was more excitement than I was planning for today.”

“Yeah?” Bucky took a slow breath, trying to get his heart rate back under control. The fight was over. Aims was standing. It was all going to be alright. “When did you get boring?”

“May, about two years ago,” Jack wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Of all the people he’d expected to be a part of this, Barnes was the last. And not just here. Here and apparently acting as the Fox’s protector. She made perfect sense; he was an anomaly. “At least I’ve been trying since then. I’m quite bad at it, as it turns out.”

Bucky laughed. He got that. God, he missed being retired already. When they got home, he was making Aims and Stevie take a full month off work. They were going to do nothing but lounge around and be a family. “How have you been?”

“Better than you, I’d wager,” Jack shot back, wishing he’d thought to bring a canteen with him. He could very much use a drink of water just now. “Someone told me you were dead.” Not just told him. Jack had held Monty while he cried. For Barnes, and for the Captain currently standing behind Carter. Comforted him as he mourned the loss of his friends. Neither of whom seemed particularly dead at the moment.

“Yeah. That rumour’s been going around,” Bucky snorted. If you asked the him from this time if he’d rather die or wait it out for the chance that things would get better, he knew which he would have chosen. He would have been wrong, but the version of him from this time had no idea just how good his life got. He’d never woken up with Aims on one side and Stevie on the other. Never been greeted at the door by Ryzhevolosaya Decochka with a box full of pastries and a happy mischievous smile. Never spent all night walking up and down the hall when his baby had colic. Never watched his two daughters feed a baby goat together while his husband and wife lounged in the sun. Never declared his love in front of the setting sun and everyone that mattered in his life.

“What have you been doing?” It seemed like a reasonable question, given that Barnes had let them all think he was dead for years, then reappeared as an attendant to one of the Lady of the Lake’s children. Not just a mundane attendant either, her Ladyship was clearly on a mission for her Grandmother, which meant he’d gotten caught up in the magical nonsense that so complicated Jack’s life.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky shrugged. It was too much to go into now, but he could hit the highlights. “Killed some people who deserved it. Some who didn’t. Got married. Had a kid.”

“Married? To-?” Jack followed his eyes to the woman he had arrived with. To the Fox? Foxes didn’t marry. If they did it was for political advantage. Barnes was many things, but he wasn’t politically advantageous. Not the way she and her people would expect her other half to be.

Bucky smiled at Amy adoringly. Not just to her. But yeah, his beautiful little Fox had agreed to spend the rest of her life with him. “She’s the love of my life.”

Amy drifted to Bucky’s side, moving slowly, but not stiffly. She knew what Jack was thinking. And in a different world, one without their hopeless romantic, it was possible she wouldn’t have married Bucky. There was a reason she and Steve had kept their relationship private the last few years after all. But she couldn’t imagine not loving him. Not after how they had met. “He shot me. Twice.”

“You…” Jack trailed off. You didn’t shoot a Fox. You shot at Foxes, then they got in close and cut you down. You were better off trying to get in close and take them with a blade if you could. And you couldn’t. They were better with a blade than you were.

“Yeah.” Bucky cupped her face softly. That hadn’t been it. Not really. That was when his baby girl’s crush had started. And it was his first memory of her. The surprise and recognition in her eyes had stayed with him for years. But love, real love, had come later. Based on the trust of sleeping around each other, the laughter they had shared, and consistency. On the million little peaceful moments that made up their life together. “I did.”

He stroked his thumb over her cheek. There was colour there. But he could feel how much of her weight she was leaning on him. “Doing alright, baby girl?”

“I’m fine, Mon Loup, ” Amy assured him. Using the Time Stone wasn’t easy, but the Eye tempered it. Even a reasonably disciplined mortal could manage it with a little rest after. It hadn’t touched her powers at all. She was a little worn out, but nothing rest couldn’t cure.

Ayame might be fine, but Peggy was questioning whether she was. She hadn’t gotten hit in the head, but hallucinations were a sign of blood poisoning too. Maybe she needed to see an actual doctor about her side. “Not all of those were humans.”

“Nope,” Grant agreed. Slinging his shield onto his back. “They weren’t.”

“When you said it was complicated….” She had assumed they had been incapacitated, possibly tortured. That Ayame had rescued them in some fashion, and they owed her a debt. Barnes had clearly fallen for her. But then his taste in women had always been questionable. Of course, that hypothesis had been developed before seeing Jack Churchill show Ayame more respect than she’d seen directed at any general in their mutual acquaintance. Well before beings that were humanoid, but distinctly not human had emerged from holes in the air to try to kill them.

“In a word?” Because Grant had been trying to figure out where to start with Peggy since Bucky and his future-self had explained their plan and still hadn’t come up with anything he thought she’d take well. “Time travel.”

“That’s two words.” And frankly less comforting than any of the options Peggy had come up with on her own.

“Is this a conversation we could be having over dinner?” Bucky asked, rubbing his wife’s back. She’d barely nibbled at her breakfast and that had been before she’d manipulated time all on her lonesome. She needed rest, food, and to be wrapped in soft silks.

Amy rolled her eyes. She was fine. A little tired. But she wasn’t about to keel over from mild fatigue. Lucky for her, not everyone in this time was more worried about wrapping her in cotton wool rather than getting the job done. “Churchill?”

Jack went to one knee again. Hand resting respectfully on the hilt of his sword. When his cousin George had mentioned that there seemed to be more activity lately, Jack had assumed he was catastrophizing. It was starting to look more like he had caught on before Jack had. “I’ll stand vigil. Keep an eye on things until the energies settle.”

Ayame set a hand benevolently on his head. “Your legacy will be long and noble. Even my family will take note of your innovation.”

Jack looked up at her in surprise. A blessing from a bright-eyed Fox. Not just any descendant of the Lady of the Lake either, one with hair to attest to her power.

Chapter 24: Incomplete Explanations

Peggy wanted to pace. Honestly, she wanted to yell and throw things. It wouldn’t help. All it would do was damage the rather lovely London townhouse Ayame called the ‘Sanctum.’ And her side was more than sore enough already without the extra stress, throwing things would make it worse. But it would make her feel better. She had long since given up on eating. The food had been good, all her childhood favourites prepared excellently. A ploy to soothe her, obviously. Well, it wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t going to be placated in the face of their revelations.

Discovering what had happened after the plane crash did explain why it had taken him so very long to get back to her. Seventy years frozen in ice was enough to chill even her anger. And he had come back as soon as he had found a way. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say once he was sure Bucky was safe. But then Peggy had known about his devotion to Barnes from the beginning. And she couldn’t blame Grant for waiting on Barnes. Not after she had heard what had happened to him during those same years. Grant had looked ready to cry with every word. Barnes had ended up telling most of it himself after Grant’s voice started to crack. Even Bucky’s imperious wife shivered during that retelling. Wrapping herself around Bucky’s arm and rubbing his knee soothingly. Bucky had kissed Amy’s temple and said something in Japanese. It had stilled, if not entirely comforted, her.

No, while the intervening years had left Peggy upset, it was a very specific kind of upset. One that would have her cuddling Grant close to comfort him if not for the rest of it. Her poor darling, alone in a strange world. His best friend tormented by the danger he thought they’d both given their lives to stop.

The existence of the so-called ‘Infinity Stones’ very nearly made sense. She had seen what the Tesseract and Zero Matter could do. The idea that there were other sources of similar power was a logical extension of facts. She didn’t love that Bucky’s wife had access to the one that apparently controlled time. But she was coming around on trusting the woman. She was competent at the very least. Peggy could place the Stones firmly in the category of potential but inactive threats. The Zero Matter, the Aether, had wanted to escape its prison and complete the last direction it had been given. They had put a stop to that. She might want to subtly imply to Phillips that they needed to keep a closer eye on the Tesseract the next time she spoke with him, but given the cube’s connection to Hydra, they were already selective about who was allowed to handle it. Peggy was nothing if not good at compartmentalization. It would be fine.

Magic went firmly in the ‘potential but inactive threats’ category as well. She hadn’t fought Hydra and worked with Stark for years without establishing that the line between science and the supernatural was foggy at best. Hadn’t she just spent a week essentially being haunted? The idea that people might stumble onto the technique to manipulate certain energies wasn’t outlandish. History was full of old wives’ tales that turned out to be true when the scientific method was applied. A few more extreme examples were practically to be expected.

Aliens were the same. Life had found a way on Earth. Why were they any more special than the billions of other stars in the sky?

Maybe, maybe, she could get on board with the idea that time travel existed. And other universes similar but not identical to theirs weren’t beyond the realm of imagination. Both were a cognitive stretch, but she could have wrapped her mind around them with a little work. Some more information on how it all worked, what the rules were. She might never be comfortable with either idea. She didn’t have to be comfortable with it to learn to live with it.

But this? An organization bent on the eradication of all universes but their own. This was insane. Why would they even care? A ‘sacred timeline’ hardly felt like an explanation. Surely, if their timeline really was separate, it shouldn’t matter what they did. The idea that the people on the other side of that ‘separation’ possessed the ability to simply erase an entire universe was beyond comprehension. It wasn’t a simple ‘fact’ they’d promised to lay out for her. It was an existential crisis to not just Earth but every sentient being in the universe.

And they were just sitting there. A united front of people who apparently didn’t think this was all insane. Ayame, posture perfect, without a trace of emotion on her face. Bucky, more distracted by comforting his impassive wife than by the apparent crisis at hand. Grant, eyes fixed on her, but not displaying anywhere near the anxiety she would have expected. They’d heard it before, but surely this wasn’t something one just got used to. It was outrageous. The whole world should be up in arms about it.

Peggy squeezed her eyes shut. Head pounding. Frustration bringing on a migraine. Her side was killing her. She thought she might be about to pop her stitches again. And… and she needed time. Time to think on… all of it. “I need to lay down.”

Grant jerked to his feet. “I’ll walk you up.”

Not that he knew where they were going any better than she did. But he wanted to make it clear that he was... he didn’t know. On her side? With her? Maybe he just wasn’t ready to watch her walk away. Especially now that their peanut gallery was down to just Bucky and his wife. He didn’t care if he made a fool of himself in front of them. Not as long as it made Peggy smile.

*****

Arriving outside of the second story guest room, Peggy was struck by how familiar the presence next to her was. How many times had he walked her home during their brief time together? How many times had he kissed her good night? Praised her for her brilliance and promised he would see her in the morning. He’d smiled at her, kissed her fingertips. Told her how much he loved her. Left promises for their life together after the war hanging unsaid in the air between them. Left her filled with love and wishing she didn’t have to leave him on the street.

That smile was still there. The soft adoration in his eyes. The confidence and respect.

And so, she did what came naturally. She kissed him. With her side as it was, she couldn’t stretch up to him, but her darling had never had an issue with coming down to her level. Before she could think better of it, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, just below his collar. Dragging him down until their mouths collided.

The kiss was natural, but Peggy wasn’t afraid to pack it with all the frustration filling her chest. Less than careful as she tangled her tongue with his. Teeth scraping against his lower lip. The fabric of his shirt twisted in her grip until she thought it might tear.

He held her gently in return. One hand curled around her good hip. The other cradling the back of her neck. Unperturbed by her aggression. Taking her anger and reflecting back nothing but love. She didn’t stop kissing him until her head started to spin. Until she was drunk enough on him for the last few days to fade.

Easing herself away from him, Peggy drew in a slow breath. Less irritated than she had been before the kiss. “I am still mad at you.”

“I know.” Grant ran his fingers down her arm. Curling his hand around her smaller one. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.” Not right away at least. He hoped she would eventually. But he also knew he’d have to earn it. “But I missed you.”

Peggy pressed her palm to Grant’s chest. A conflicted knot sitting heavily alongside the stabbing pain in her side. Maybe he hadn’t been able to come back to her sooner than he had. But she had still been abandoned for years. And yet she was still overwhelmingly glad, not just that he was back, but that he still had such unshakable faith in her. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Grant cupped her face. Turning it back up towards his. She was so beautiful. Strong and determined. She’d never needed him. But she had chosen him. Even before he’d gotten all big and strong, she’d seen him. He stole another kiss. Soft and slow. The kiss he had lain awake dreaming about the first night in his twenty-first century apartment. “I missed you so much.”

*****

If they saw it, Bucky was sure his old friends would think this room was less luxurious than the one at Stark’s place. No big mahogany bedframe with its lumpy but too soft mattress. No mound of pillows he needed to dump on the floor before he could get in. No fully stocked bar on the sideboard. They had a sitting room and a private bathroom, both on the other side of solid wood doors. Separate from this apparently austere sanctuary. Here there were just a futon with crisp cotton sheets and a rack for Ayame’s swords. A better fit for the Fox demon of Nipon. For both of them really. His little Fox was a creature of luxury, but not decadence.

Bucky watched Ayame move around the space. Hanging up her swords and shaking out the last ridges from having her hair tied tightly up all day. She had changed into something more comfortable than her mission gear for dinner. It wasn’t that she didn’t look good in the wrapped shirt and hakama. It was that between them and the futon, he was having distinct memories of their first visit to Japan. When he had almost come between her and Steve. His traitorous brain trying to ruin something perfect and beautiful.

Finally, she passed close enough to his place against the wall that he could catch her hand. Wrap her in his arms and nuzzle her shoulder. The silk soft against his stubble. He never wanted to come between her and Stevie. A delicate balancing act given that both his martyrs were more than willing to sacrifice their happiness for him. To shove each other at him, when the obvious solution was to fill their lives with more love than he could have imagined before they’d come together to rescue him. He thought they had it now. All three of them supporting each other in all things. But it still felt so precarious when his brain rebelled.

Amy reached back to comb fingers through his hair. “What are you thinking, Mon Loup? ”

“London and Paris are pretty damn close.” He’d walked most of the distance between them once. It had taken a week, and that was with what felt like half the country shooting at them. Ayame didn’t have to walk. All she’d have to do was make her way downstairs and ask her ‘aunt’ to open a door for her. “Why don’t you go? Keep an eye on him.” Bucky couldn’t go with her. Someone had to stay in case Peggy or Grant had questions in the middle of the night. He had to stay. He was the one they trusted, even if she knew more about it all. But she could go. Relax and forget all of this for an hour or two. Plus, if anyone could get her to lay down, it was Stevie.

Amy licked her lips. She wanted to be with Steve, or for Steve to be here with them. But she wasn’t sure about leaving Bucky to go to him. They’d been without him for so long. She wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t disappear if she and Steve let him out of their sight for too long.

“He said he’s almost done.” Bucky felt her hesitation. The same anxiety she had held back when they had been in the thick of it. He kissed the curve of her neck. The line of her collarbone. All the places he wanted Steve to kiss when she was with him. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Amy didn’t want to leave him. But she also hated that they had abandoned Steve for so long. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Bucky scooped her into his arms. Kissed her soft and lovingly. Forehead, eyelids, temples, cheeks, perfect lips. He loved her so much. But more than that, he wanted to know both his people were safe and loved, which was always easier to believe when they were together. “Look after him for me?”

Amy slid her hands into his hair. Curled her fingers into the short strands. Oh, but she missed his long hair already. “You know I will.”

Bucky drew her in for a last kiss. Slid his tongue into her mouth and devoured her. Until he could feel her legs going weak and her heart racing in her chest. Until his beautiful, reserved girl melted for him. Until he knew that she knew just how much he loved both her and Steve.

Finally, he let their lips part. Confident that she had something to give to Steve from him. “I know you will.”

He hated watching Amy walk away. Always had. To the point that even the idea of her leaving had sent him spiralling once upon a time. Still, he let her fingers slide from his. Let her go to the work that needed them. Knowing that she was going to Steve helped. Knowing that they’d both be coming back to him soon helped more.

The door closed with an audible snap and Bucky flopped onto the bed. He wasn’t going to sleep. He rarely did when he was alone. But they probably would. At least a little. At the very least, he’d get back a husband and wife that were more relaxed. Bucky’s life was much easier when Stevie and Aims were relaxed. Especially since Steve was going to get all tense again when they had to explain the rest of it to Peggy. He rubbed his eyes. Aims probably would too. Little Fox acted like she was unshakable, but she could be as jealous as Stevie. She just showed it differently. Drawing in rather than lashing out. He’d have to make sure they both got a generous dose of attention when they got back.

He chuckled to himself and stretched against the mattress. The things he did for love.

Chapter 25: Dark Reflections

The guest room Peggy had been provided was a rather lovely space. Not that she could settle to enjoy it. She’d been pacing for hours rather than enjoying the luxury. She would freely admit she’d been spoiled the last few months. Stark’s generous hospitality and the attentive care of Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis had left her with high standards. This room seemed to meet any expectation she could have set. There was a door to a private bathroom, a quick check told her it wasn’t even a Jack and Jill. She had the whole thing, complete with claw foot tub and hot and cold running water, to herself. A large wardrobe, the doors inlaid with birds made out of variously coloured woods and mother of pearl. A large bed surrounded on three sides by rosewood carved like lace and graced by a thick brocade coverlet and crisp white sheets. The rug underfoot luxuriously plush.

By far the oddest feature was the dark mirror opposite the window. Hazy black glass set in a carved wood frame. The outside border was plain, but a series of intricate carvings lined the top. Five rectangular friezes edged in fantastical leaves and flowers. The glassy surface didn’t quite reflect her image back to her. Less like looking in a mirror. More like staring into a window on a dark night. She’d spent enough time in interrogation rooms to know what two-way glass looked like. Except she could pull it away from the wall with ease and the plaster behind it was perfectly smooth. Not even a pinprick marring the creamy surface. The back of the mirror itself was solid wood, equally unblemished.

Peggy looked more closely at the carved figures along the top. Each blocked off section was a different scene. Quite detailed ones, considering their size. A maiden, the suggestion of a room, a window with a tree, and the very mirror she was looking at. In the first, the maiden entered. The second, she touched the mirror. The third, a mountain appeared where the glass would be. Then a masculine face. In the last, the maiden withdrew her hand, and the mirror was blank again. Strung together, they told a story. A parable of some sort? Or instructions?

On impulse, Peggy touched the base of the frame. “Show me the city?”

Familiar rooftops faded into view. The streets around Whitehall. Tiny ant-like figures clearing rubble away from the bomb sites that still littered the city. Watching them emerge from fog seemed as natural as it had any of the countless mornings she’d watched it from the tiny flat she’d rented during the war.

Peggy licked her lips. The area of London she was most familiar with rather than where they were. Maybe it was pulling from her memories rather than displaying the world as it was now. What she needed was a test. Somewhere that had changed since she’d last seen it, but whose changes she knew.

“Show me Birch Cottage?” Her parents’ home. The place she had once called home. The place she hadn’t returned to since Michael’s death.

And there it was. Not quite as she remembered it. The trees matured, the plaster in need of new whitewash and several of the pavers on the front walk wanting resetting. But the walls around the raised garden beds were the same. The sashed windows and lawn as well-maintained as always. More importantly, the new bench her mother had been so proud of in her letters sat under the apple tree. Personally, Peggy would have put it under the oak, but she and her mother rarely agreed on anything. And it did prove the concept. It wasn’t just how she pictured it. It was more real than her imagination could conjure.

So, it could show her places. But what about people? “Can you show me Angie?”

The mist descended and reformed. Lifting on a very different scene. A well-appointed bedroom in a building not so far from where Peggy was now. A curly-haired woman smearing cold cream on her face and reading what looked like a script. Angie. Mouth moving silently as she recited the lines. The robe wrapped around her was new since Peggy had seen her last. Periwinkle cotton scattered with tiny roses. Exactly the garment she had bragged about getting such a good deal on in her last letter. She flicked her wrist to punctuate a point in her dialogue. Splattering drops of goo across her mirror. Drat. Where’s my darn washcloth?

She didn’t hear what her old friend said exactly. It was less sound, more knowledge imposed directly into her brain.

Peggy stayed that way for a long time. Watching the simple peace of her friend’s nighttime routine and wishing she still lived next door. That she could pop over and spend an hour or two laughing or commiserating about things that only felt like the end of the world.

But no. Until she knew more, she couldn’t jeopardise dear, uninvolved Angie.

She really did need to know more. Why didn’t Grant and Bucky’s timelines quite line up? Why was Steven insisting they all call him ‘Grant’ at all? And why did he keep blushing when the idea of a surname came up? Who exactly was Bucky’s so-called 'wife’ and why did so many disparate men in Peggy’s life have such extreme reactions to her presence? And how was their mysterious host involved?

Peggy had a lot of questions about her. She’d sent them off to Stonehenge, then disappeared to her study to ‘deal with some Order of Sorcerers business’ almost as soon as they had returned. “Show me the Ancient One?”

A grey haze obscured the surface of the glass. Figures moved in its depth. But never resolved the way London or Angie’s room had. Peggy sighed and lifted her hand from the frame. The mirror returned to dark clarity. Of course. She was a powerful magician. If such a thing existed and this wasn’t all some fever dream. She’d have some way of shielding herself from this kind of spying. Peggy felt almost silly for trying. And sillier for finding herself in a world where it was a factor she had to consider.

Clever as this device was, it clearly had limitations. Peggy ticked off what she knew so far. It couldn’t show her the Ancient One, but it could show her other people and places… “Show me Steve.”

The haze briefly returned. Flickering erratically between the neutral haze and flashes of colour. As if the mirror was having a harder time finding Steven than any of the others she had looked for. For a moment, she wondered if the whole Sanctuary was under the protection of the Ancient One. Then the image resolved. Steve, sitting on a narrow bed. He’d changed since she’d left him at her door. Shirt and tie discarded for an undershirt and striped pyjama pants. His beard looked thicker in the dingy light.

She was also frankly surprised at the state of the guest room he’d been given. Hers was luxuriously appointed. Filled with plush furnishings and antique furniture. His was painted an insipid grey green. The furniture all practical enamel. Even the blanket looked rough compared to hers. The tiny window so grimy she couldn’t see the world beyond compared to her sparklingly clean and generously sized one.

His eyes snapped up. Shining with bright intensity. Locking onto something outside her field of vision. The door, she assumed.

*****

Steve rubbed his eyes. Kaminsky had said everything would be ready by tonight or early tomorrow. At least a few more hours. He should try to sleep. Take advantage of the enforced inaction to let his body and mind recover from the chaos of the last weeks.

He couldn’t. Not when he was alone.

He knew division of labour was the best policy right now. The version of him that was staying needed papers. A passport. Army records. A diploma. He could work with the forger while Grant reconnected with his old team. Photos of him would work just as well as photos of Grant. It was just a few days. He still hated being away from his people. Bucky and Amy. His husband and wife. He should be with them. Not hanging around a dingy hotel room in Paris waiting for an old contact to drop off what they needed. A handful of phone calls, a cryptic telegram. It wasn’t enough. He needed to see proof they were alright with his own eyes. Needed his arms around them.

A circle of shimmering orange and gold appeared on the wall. The centre slowly widening to create a portal. Steve’s entire being focused on that halo. He’d seen a lot of them now. So far, they had only brought him good things. Tonight, there were only a few things it could possibly bear.

A single figure emerged from the glow. Lean lines and graceful movements.

Amy.

Steve swept her into his arms before the portal had a chance to close. Crushing her to his chest and inhaling a deep lungful of her perfume. The flowers and smoke that told him he was home. “Checking up on me, sweetheart?”

Amy ran her hands down his chest. Yes. And she refused to be anything like embarrassed by the fact. “Thought you might be going a little crazy alone.”

“I was.” He tipped her face up. His girl. As consistent and reliable as the stars. Alone, but looking content and even playful. Not like she was here because of an emergency. She was here for him. “You know I was.”

*****

Peggy’s mouth went dry. She didn’t believe what she was seeing.

The hug had been intimate. But then Steve and Bucky had never had physical boundaries with each other. Was it really so strange that some of that would carry over to his wife? She and Bucky had been known to hug. There had been nothing improper there. This embrace could be more of the same. The closeness of two people who dearly loved one another, if in different ways.

Then he kissed her. There was nothing friendly or even brotherly about that kiss.

It didn’t make any sense. Steve had walked through fire for Bucky. Had bent or broken any rule that might have separated them. He’d never do anything to hurt him. True, Bucky had been gone for years in their world as well as in hers. She’d have expected Steve to look after his wife if anything happened to his best friend. Just not that kind of looking after.

And he’d fallen back into her own arms readily enough. Kissed her like he had missed her. Helped her shower. Watched her with what she had thought was love. Yes, he’d said that things were complicated, and he hadn’t invited her to his bed yet. Not that she had invited him either…

But this? This was more than complicated.

*****

Steve stroked his thumbs over Ayame’s cheeks. His Aims. This whole thing had them both so stressed. There was nothing they could do about it tonight. By morning, afternoon at the latest, they’d have everything Grant needed to start his new life. They’d get him settled. Reinforce the most vulnerable points along the timeline. Then they’d get back to their own life. Their own beautiful life. “When this is over, I want us to be together. I’m tired of hiding.” They hadn’t talked about where they’d live or what all they were going to do now that everyone was back. But they’d be together. That was the important thing. “I know it will be hard. With Bucky… Everything is complicated.”

Complicated didn’t begin to cover it. A pardon on paper didn’t mean people were going to forgive their sweet boy for the things Hydra had made him do. Then there was the inevitable controversy their non-traditional relationship would cause. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter, but she was sure they’d express them loudly. Amy rubbed Steve’s chest reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Steve buried his hands in her hair. Resting his forehead against hers. Breathing in the calm that radiated off her. They’d figure it out together. “I love you.”

*****

Peggy couldn’t breathe. Hand clasped to her mouth.

He’d been kissing her. Talking about their life together and kissing her. Then he’d started peeling off her clothes. And her tongue had been fully in his mouth. Neither of them showing the slightest remorse as he stripped off first his pants then hers. And—

And Peggy hadn’t been able to watch any further. Jerking away from the mirror, the glass fading back to milky black.

Bucky was clearly absolutely devoted to his wife. Attentive and adoring. She had been a touch more aloof, but Peggy had thought she had returned the sentiment. That display on the steps of Stark's mansion had seemed genuine enough. On the other hand, Peggy didn’t know her from Adam. Morita didn’t trust her at all. Thompson had tried to arrest her the first time he’d seen her. It was entirely possible her attentions had all been for show. That Bucky was just a pawn in her mysterious game. He would be far from the first man to fall for such a thing.

It was the Steve of it all that truly shocked her. She would never have thought her Steve could do this to Bucky. Bucky loved Steve. He would follow him to death and beyond. And Steve knew that. Steve loved him too. Peggy had come to accept that before she had ever let herself fall in love with Steve. Neither of them could hurt the other any more than they could cut off their own arm.

But there was no mistaking what she had seen. No platonic explanation. She could have ignored it if Steve had only hugged Ayame. But he had kissed her. More than kissed her. They’d been—

Peggy sank onto the edge of the bed. Staring at the now dark mirror. Unable to close her eyes, let alone sleep. Her world more shattered than it had been when she’d closed the door to her room.

*****

Steve stroked his fingers along Amy’s spine. His naked and beautifully languid wife. This bed wasn’t worthy of her. The mattress was lumpy, the sheets scratching at their skin. And there was no way he was letting her leave before morning. “I went looking for croissants for you.”

“Mmm?” Amy nuzzled absently against him. Her back was cold. She really should be tucked between two big warm bodies.

“Butter is still on ration,” Steve apologised. He’d wanted to take them back to treat her and Bucky. To spoil them since he had left them for so long.

Stretching cat-like, Amy draped herself further across his chest. “I am reasonably sure that Bucky would rather have you for breakfast.”

A chuckle rumbled through Steve. His hand settling into the dip of her waist. Yeah. He probably would. It would have to be quick. They wouldn’t have time for more. But if he could get Amy sated now, while the two of them had nothing to do but wait, he and Buck could hurry through some fun of their own. More hands and mouths and Amy’s gentle touches to heighten the moment. Not the perfect way to make love after so long apart, but a damn sight better than being away from his people.

Finally, the sound they’d been waiting for came. A soft but determined rap at the door.

Chapter 26: Accusations and Confessions

At seven, Peggy gave up on waiting. On pacing her room and stewing on recent events. Someone would be up. At the very least, she was moving. Moving to where, she wasn’t sure. They wanted her help, wanted her to trust them, when they were doing this. Steve… She had trusted him once. With her life, and more. That had been years ago. And he’d done so much since. Who knew who he was now.

She ran into Bucky and ‘Grant’ on the landing. Both evidently just emerging from their respective rooms, looking happy and relaxed. Neither showing signs of the betrayal.

Grant beamed at Peggy. He really could get used to waking up in the same place as her. Not even in the same bed, but just seeing her in the morning. It was everything he needed after the two weeks from hell he had endured. “Morning, Pegs. Sleep well?”

Peggy felt her blood go cold. He absolutely could not just stand there and smile like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t betrayed the two people who loved him most in a single stroke. No. Not a single stroke. Because that hadn’t been their first dalliance. Clearly, he and the pretty woman had been sneaking around for some time. Deceiving Bucky and leading her on. And grinning at her like she was an absolute fool.

Her hand impacted Grant’s cheek with a reverberating slap.

“Whoa!” Bucky grabbed Peggy around the waist. Lifting her away from his friend. He knew how she could get when she was angry. Admittedly, he didn’t know why she was angry. But finding out would be harder if Grant was bleeding out on the floor.

“He’s sleeping with your wife.” Peggy let the words fall sharp and cold. Like dropping a knife so it stuck point down. The wife Peggy could see just inside Bucky’s room. She at least had the grace to look pleased with herself. A cat in the cream smile as she stood there in her robe, damp hair curling out of her bun. Unlike ‘Grant’ with his too open, too innocent smile. She wondered what lies the woman had spun to explain her self-satisfaction to her sweet, trusting husband. “And what do you have to say for yourself? Bucky is one of the kindest, sweetest, most loyal men on the planet. How could you do this to him?”

“Taii, I think you’d better get out here,” Amy called. Hurrying to Bucky’s side herself. She wasn’t sure what had caused the atmosphere to shift. But it clearly had.

“Aims? Buck?” Steve crashed into the hall. Hair still dripping from the shower, towel thrown over one shoulder, chest bare.

Peggy might be hallucinating. It was possible she had been more seriously injured in the Roxxon assault than she had realized and was now out of her mind with a fever. There were two Steves. Not identical. But close. The one still rubbing his cheek was her Steve. The man she’d kissed in that hanger in the Alps. The other… She’d swear he was a year, maybe two, older. The barest hint of silver in his hair. Tiny lines adding gravitas around his eyes. And Amy almost pressed against his chest with how close behind her he was standing. “What the hell is going on?”

“I promised I’d explain, Pegs.” Grant rubbed his jaw. He’d forgotten just how hard she could hit when her heart was in it. “Give a guy a chance to have coffee first.”

“Told you.” Bucky slipped his arm around Steve. Amy right where she belonged in the V made by their bodies. “Shit’s complicated.”

*****

Peggy sat on the settee in Bucky and Ayame’s room—Bucky, Ayame, and Steve’s room?—in a daze. Listening to a second lengthy explanation in as many days. This time coming almost entirely from Steve.

Across from her, Bucky, Ayame, and a hastily dressed Steve sat in a line. All three of them, a united front. Ayame with a hand resting protectively on Steve’s knee. Bucky with his strange black arm stretched along the back of the sofa behind Steve. Surrounding him with an intimate sort of strength.

And Grant. Sitting alone in the room’s armchair. His face, the same as that of the man on the couch, his posture entirely different.

It wasn’t that it didn’t all make sense. It all made a perfectly insane kind of sense. All the little discrepancies in the timeline they had offered last night smoothed out by Steve being in their century for a few extra years. The times Grant had hesitated or let Amy or Bucky take over an explanation understandable if he hadn’t been there for most of it.

“So uhhh,” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe they should have picked a different point to come back to. Some time calmer when they could have explained from the start. He wasn’t sure how much ground he’d recovered and had even less clue how to wrap up this story. “Bucky and I are married. To Amy. All three of us are married. Aims and I are sleeping together, but Bucky knows. He’s always known. He’s the reason we—” The words died in Steve’s throat. Bucky was the one who’d believed the three of them could work in the first place. “He knows. No one’s cheating.”

Amy set her hand on Steve’s knee. “Everything we told you was true. It just didn’t all happen to Grant, and we left out a few… details.”

Bucky flexed his left hand. They were over-explaining. Making it sound complicated when it was simple. “Just show her, Stevie.”

They shouldn’t. Not because Peggy didn’t have at least some right to know. Because Steve didn’t have a picture that wasn’t on a device she really shouldn’t see. If he’d been thinking, he would have printed some off. Tony could have come up with a quick way to make them look antique. Or Shuri could have.

Amy squeezed his knee in gentle reassurance. It would be fine. Helping Peggy to understand was more important than keeping the timeline perfectly sanitary. They’d already opened the door, they might as well let her in. Especially if it helped her and Grant settle.

Choosing which photo he wanted was hard. Steve had so many on his phone. From before. But he had also spent the last week capturing every precious moment he could. Unwilling to risk it all vanishing without proof. It had to convey the right information. Who Sayuri was. How much Bucky loved her. That they were a family. Finally, he settled on one that just about met his requirements. Not perfect. But the closest he could find. He set the phone on the table between them. Pushing it towards her. “This is Lilly. I know Buck has a bit of a blind spot when it comes to the people he loves, but he’s not a complete idiot.”

Peggy’s breath caught at the image trapped in the glass.

Bucky holding a little girl. She was absolutely adorable. With a button nose and perfect golden ringlets. And the most striking violet eyes. She was unmistakably Ayame’s daughter. And equally obviously Steve’s. That hair. Her pout. There was no chance that Bucky didn’t see it. But there he was. Paternal pride radiating off him as the little girl tugged on his overgrown hair.

Grant touched the phone screen. Flicking through the next few pictures. Sayuri playing with a bear dressed like Bucky had during the war. Being danced around a nursery room by her mother. Finally, napping on her father’s chest. They’d told him. But they hadn’t shown him. “She’s beautiful.”

Steve curled his fingers around Amy’s. ‘Beautiful’ hardly seemed to cover their little girl. She was so bright, so curious, so playful, so much like her mother. And she was alive. After years of missing her she was so vibrantly alive. “She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Biologically, she’s Steve’s.” Amy smiled up at the father of her child. The man who had loved her through so much. “Practically, she belongs to all three of us. Bucky is her daddy. Steve is her papa. She loves them both.”

Steve squeezed Amy’s hand. “And we love her.”

“It’s a partnership. All three of us.” Bucky shifted forward to cover Steve and Ayame’s hands with his own. His people. The loves of his life. “Equals.”

Peggy could just about get her mind around that much. Steve loved Bucky, and Ayame was stunning. But it did very little to explain why there were two ‘Steves’ or what they all wanted from her. When she looked at Grant, he was staring back at her intently. “And you?”

Grant shook his head. He hadn’t done any of that. “Woke up two weeks ago. Just in time to save the world from aliens.” He glanced at the trio on the couch. They made it sound like he’d been alright in the twenty-first century. He’d apparently figured it out eventually, but the last weeks had been brutal. Everyone had thought he should be excited that he had survived. That they had won the war. Only it hadn’t felt like it. He’d felt more like he was going through the motions than really living. And there had been enough echoes of the things he fought against to make the ‘victory’ feel hollow. Not worth everything he had lost. Then Bucky had shown up, and all the things that hadn’t made sense suddenly had. Good and bad. “They came to me with their plan. Explained it all. Told me I could come back. That I could come home.”

The blood in Peggy’s ears had gotten very loud again. Home. He was calling her his home. As if she offered the same potential happiness encapsulated in those photos. “I need a minute.”

“Yeah. Of course, Pegs.” Grant lurched to his feet to follow her. He knew how she felt. He’d needed a minute when he’d found out himself. “I’ll walk you—”

“I need a minute alone,” Peggy corrected more sharply than she intended. He was one of the things she needed a minute away from.

She needed to think. She needed… She needed to wake up and discover that this whole week had been a fever dream brought on by falling onto rebar. All of it solved with a simple course of penicillin.

*****

The air on the rooftop terrace was cool and damp. London air if Peggy had ever known it. It should be comforting. The normal-ness of it. And yet it wasn’t. She was still... off balance. Lost in a way she hadn’t been since she’d accepted Steve’s loss.

He was back. He still loved her.

He had lived a whole life without her and without regret.

They were different people.

They were the same.

They wanted her help to protect the world...

She wasn’t sure she wanted to help.

“Brought you a sweater,” a soft male voice spoke into her contemplation. Grant. No. Steven. She could see the differences now that she knew to look for them. The spattering of grey hairs at the temple. The more reserved posture. The ring on his left hand. “LA to London can take a bit of getting used to.”

Peggy accepted the cardigan graciously. There were goosebumps on her arms, and she could feel a shiver coming. Which would be murder on her poor side. The fibres under her fingers were softer than she could have imagined. Lush and almost silky. “What is it?”

“Vicuña. From Peru,” Steve answered, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It’s Aims’ favourite. Probably hard to get around here. Hell, it’s hard in our time and letters fly around the world in the blink of an eye there.”

Our time. Because he had a life in a different century. One where another woman was his wife. Where they had a beautiful daughter. Where the man he’d walked across Europe for was his husband... She stroked the impossibly soft fabric again. It wasn’t something she could offer him. None of it was. “Were we real? Was any of it?”

“Every moment.” Steve didn’t hesitate with his answer. He’d never stopped loving Peggy. He still loved her. Still wanted to see her happy. He’d also found a different love in a different world.

“You’re married.” Married, with a beautiful child. A wife, a husband, a baby who looked so much like him it hurt.

“Don’t see how that changes what we had.” He was with Buck and Amy now, but he would have married her in a heartbeat before. And they would have been happy.

“I—I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.” The life he had described. She could hardly imagine it. It was nothing like the future she had pictured for herself when she had allowed herself to picture anything.

“Because of Buck?” Steve would get that. He hadn’t had enough information in this century to figure it out at all, and it was his head. His heart. It had taken Ayame — beautiful, intelligent Ayame, who didn’t believe in anything as ‘boring’ as heteronormativity or western standards of monogamy — months to fully believe that Bucky was serious and the three of them really could have something long-term.

“Is it odd that I would almost be less hurt if it were just him?” She had always suspected there was something more than fraternal to their relationship. She had given up on trying to discover what that something was after her initial pressing had failed to lead anywhere. She had known he and Barnes were more than friends. And she had chosen to ignore the fact in favour of her own happiness. Convinced herself that Bucky would find someone else to make him happy someday. That if she didn’t interfere with their friendship, she could keep her dream alive. No, it was the beautiful mother of his child who had shaken her confidence.

Steve sat down on the edge of the parapet. The rough edge of the roofing scraping against the back of his pants. They’d told her the story. But not the whole story. He’d skipped over parts. To save face and save his people the painful memories. “It took me most of a decade, Pegs. I woke up. And everyone was gone. You were there. But you’d had a whole life without me. It broke my heart. I was glad that you’d been happy. But I was devastated that I hadn’t been the one to make you happy. I spent two years completely unable to move on. Even after I met Ayame...” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. How to explain those first days after he and Amy had found each other. When Bucky had still been in the wind, and they hadn’t known how they fit. Both scared to hold on in case they got hurt again. “First time I asked Amy to marry me, I told her I wanted a long engagement. Not because I wanted people to get used to the idea of us or anything. But because I didn't want to marry her while you were still alive. You were ninety, forgot who I was half the time, thought I was your husband for most of the other half.” A mistake that made more sense now. At least, he hoped it did. “And I still didn’t want to live in a world where you were there, and I was married to someone else.” Steve rubbed the inside of his wedding band. The weight that had been missing for so long. “She used to make me spend Valentine’s Day with you. Bought me a chess set with pieces that would be easier for you to hold. I never got over you, Pegs. I never will.”

Peggy’s mind stuck on a single phrase in his explanation. Not the most important part by any means. But the part that made the least sense, or possibly the most given that none of it made anything like sense. “The first time?”

“She said no. Not because of you. Because I asked for the wrong reasons. Or at least she thought it was the wrong reasons. You know I’m bad at talking to women.” It had been fondue all over again. Only Aims hadn’t just expressed her irritation and let him apologize. She’d closed herself off and walked away. She’d walked away, he hadn’t gone after her, and when she had come back, he’d pushed her away again. Tried to forget that part of his life. Until Bucky had forced them to reconcile and shown him how good his life could be.

“But you tried again?” She had said no, and still they were here. Not just married to each other but sharing a life with Bucky as well. They had bent the laws of the universe to be together. “Because of the baby?”

No. Not because of their baby. Bucky had explicitly forbidden him from asking him when Lilly had been a factor. And he’d been right. If Ayame had thought he was asking to ‘do the right thing,’ she would have walked away again. And it would have more than broken his heart to not only lose her himself, but to be the reason Bucky lost her too, for their baby to grow up without them. “Because I was still in love with her.”

Still in love with her. The way Grant claimed he was still in love with her. Unwavering, even when his execution was poor. But Ayame had offered a life Peggy simply couldn’t. A future Grant didn’t know she couldn’t offer. They’d never talked about their future during the war. Not really. Because there had been the war and talking about it had felt like jinxing it all. And so, she had kept her secret and kept their flame alive. Held off on breaking his heart until it was too late, and he’d broken hers. “I don’t want children. I never have. I—”

“And?” Steve raised one eyebrow. He knew of course. But he hadn’t then. Hadn’t found out until one less-than-lucid day almost a year into his temporal exile. She’d confused him for her husband again. Stroking his face and fretting about whether she had let him down or not. He’d spent an hour assuring her that he’d been happy. That she’d made him happy. An hour calming her down and breaking his heart. Because she had been happy. Just not with him.

“And…” Everything. Grant had come back expecting a specific life with her, and it wasn’t the one they’d have. At least, it wasn’t the one she wanted. “You love children. I’ve seen you around them, you’re a natural. You said Lilly was the best thing you’d ever done.”

She had also been an accident. Which Steve had chosen not to mention during the morning’s confession. He still didn’t love the fact they’d had to wait to get married in the twenty-first century. He didn’t want to admit to it in this one. “Pegs,” Steve folded Peggy’s hand between his. Beautifully stubborn woman that she was, Peggy was looking for reasons for everything not to work, rather than at why it could. “You are going to have such a full and rich life. With or without children, you will have a house full of love.”

“Besides,” Steve leaned towards Peggy conspiratorially. It wasn’t just that their friends and family would fill their lives with laughter and not a few children that they could happily give back at the end of the day. Steve loved his baby, but there were moments... Peggy would also have her work. “You’re going to be so busy running your own intelligence agency, there won’t be time for kids.”

“My own intelligence agency?” After the last week, Peggy was reasonably sure she’d be out of a job with the SSR, let alone looking at a promotion of some kind.

Steve grinned. They hadn’t gotten to that part of the plan. She’d like it. And she more than deserved it. “Had to get my best girl something she’d like as a wedding present. Aims has plans to pull some strings.”

Admittedly, it was exactly the sort of ‘present’ that would tempt her. He was also very much getting ahead of himself. “I haven’t agreed to take him back at all, let alone marry him.”

“Yeah, but I’m stubborn.” And Grant was still in the thick of it when it came to loving her. Give them a common goal, let them spend some time pulling together… “You'll get there.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.” She might have. If everything had gone smoothly the first time. If they had won the war and he’d swept her off her feet. If they’d gone home to New York together and he’d asked while she was still delirious with the victory. He probably wouldn’t have even had to ask. It was entirely probable they would have gotten sloppy with their protection in the excitement of being together.

“That’s a conversation you have to have with him, not me.” Steve didn’t doubt her conviction for a moment. Once his Peggy made up her mind, nothing could shake her. It was something all his people had in common. “But I’ll tell you one thing. I’d think the trade-off is worth it.”

Peggy took a deep breath. Nothing felt decided, but it felt less overwhelming. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Steve asked gently. There were a thousand things the decisive word could mean. One of the things he had always loved about her was her determination. Once she made up her mind, she was an unstoppable force. The question was, had she made up her mind to help them? Or to wash her hands of their whole chaotic mess?

“Alright, I’ll help.” Peggy straightened her spine with more determination than she truly felt. Logic trumped emotion. “I don’t know how I feel about the more personal aspects. But professionally, morally, it is obviously the right thing to do.”

Steve let out the breath he wasn’t holding. He’d known Peggy would help. That she wouldn’t let the world fall just because she’d been hurt. He had faith in her the way she’d always had faith in him. “You want help with Frost?”

Peggy sniffed dismissively. “I am perfectly capable of managing one starlet and her mobster boyfriend.”

“Take Grant with you at least? To make me feel better?” To make both of them feel better. Because if she insisted on leaving Grant behind, they would both fret themselves into a lather and Grant couldn’t lean on Ayame to regulate his more irrational emotions.

“I will.” Peggy could grant them that concession at least. An extra set of hands could be very useful. Especially a set of hands she could be sure didn’t have conflicting political goals. And whatever motives he had, she was sure Grant was on her side. “But if he starts to get possessive—”

“I’ll talk to him,” Steve assured her. “Why don’t you go see if Aims can find you some antibiotics for that side?”

“Worry wart,” Peggy teased. It was rather nice. Having someone who worried about her without doubting her abilities.

“Yup.” Steve wasn’t going to be ashamed of that fact. His people had learned to live with it. Peggy would just have to get used to it again too. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Chapter 27: Revelations

The SSR offices in LA were almost identical to those in New York. The downstairs cover operation was different. But up here, the desks, the layout, it all felt the same. Especially this late, with all the agents that lent the space its personality during the day gone, it had the same feel. Jack could almost convince himself that he was walking towards his own office at the far end of the bullpen. Only it wasn’t his office. It was Daniel’s. Somehow that made the way Vernon Masters was sitting behind the desk like he owned it worse. He and Masters were friends, of a sort. If he’d been sitting at Jack's desk like that, Jack would have assumed it was because of how familiar they were with each other. But Masters didn’t know Daniel from Adam. They weren’t friends. He wasn’t a mentor. He’d never sat with Daniel on a stake out. Never laughed at his jokes. Never had his life saved by him or watched him make the hard decisions the way only a true leader could.

Sitting like that was a way for Masters to stake his claim. Making it clear that he could do whatever he wanted to and with the SSR section and there was nothing anyone could do.

Maybe Jack was just projecting. It had been a long flight and then there had been that disconcerting exchange with Peggy and the Fox. It was probably just nerves and jet lag. An Irish coffee and he’d be over it. Once he handed over the file, he’d head back to his hotel and see what the kitchen could rustle up.

“Jack!” Masters grinned at him jovially. The smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Back so soon? Everything go smoothly?”

“Absolutely painless, sir.” Jack swallowed the growing lump in his throat. There was a box shoved in the corner. All the personal items Daniel had kept on his desk. Jack knew the little lion statue sticking out at the corner. A replica of one of the lions from the New York Public Library. Daniel used to use it as a paperweight. He must have brought it with him from his old desk on the east coast. “Contact found what we were looking for right away.”

“Excellent.” Masters snatched the file out of Jack’s hands without asking. Falling on it like a dog on a bone. He flipped through the pages, eyes completely skating over the flaws Peggy and the Fox had pointed out, fixing instead on the worst phrases. “This is excellent.”

He didn’t see it. The facts that the Fox had picked up on at a glance. That Jack had checked out with a single phone call. He didn’t realize that the file was an obvious forgery. Jack would simply enlighten him. He’d recognize the flaws, and come up with a better, more ethical plan to get Peggy back in hand. “Sir, I’m not sure—”

The desk phone ringing cut Jack off.

Masters didn’t even look at him as he picked up the receiver. As if he had already forgotten Thompson was there in the face of the information in the file.

“Masters’ office.” He listened to the voice on the other end for a few seconds before looking up at Jack and covering the mouthpiece. “I need to take this.”

Thompson nodded and stepped back from the desk. Vernon was acting section chief. He was bound to get important calls. He was probably still in the office tonight waiting for this one.

“Alone,” Masters added with a pointed look at the door.

Jack nodded again more stiffly. He knew an order when he heard one. But he didn’t like it. There was something about Masters’ posture since he’d gotten the file. A vicious glee that didn’t feel right. If it was real, it was proof that one of the most decorated female agents of the war hadn’t just ignored orders but had slaughtered civilians. It was a tragedy. Using it was a necessary evil to stop her from doing the same thing again.

The door didn’t quite click closed behind him. Leaving just enough space for Masters’ voice to trickle out. “A nuclear bomb?” The question was muffled, but intelligible. Thompson almost wished it was less clear. Then he could have at least pretended he didn’t understand. “Honey, I don’t know if I can get you a nuclear bomb.”

There had to be an explanation. Not just for the strange secretive phone call, for all of it. Peggy’s admonition echoed in his head. Rattling off the inside of his skull. Telling him he knew what was going on. That she had warned him.

He needed more information. Carefully, Jack picked up the receiver on the phone outside the office. Covering the latch so he could release it slowly rather than having the line click. He needed to know.

“This isn’t a negotiation, Masters.” Frost’s voice was cool and collected on the other end of the line. Comfortable. Like she had made this call before. “Either find a way, or you become a redundant part of this operation.”

Thompson felt his stomach tighten. In order to be a redundant part of the operation, Masters had to be a part of the operation. For becoming a redundant part of the operation to be a threat, he had to be a willing part.

Distantly, Masters’ answer came through to him. Confirming Jack’s fears. “It will take some time. I’ll need to pull strings. It might raise suspicions.”

Frost seemed to accept that answer, at least for now. “What about Carter? Have you found a way to neutralize her?”

“I have,” Masters said. Confident and smug rather than even remotely reluctant to use the dirt Thompson had found. “I even made sure it can’t be tracked back to us. Just like you asked.”

The tightness in Thompson’s gut turned to an ice-cold rock. Peggy was right. His whole life was a lie. Everything he thought he knew…. Well, there was one thing he knew. They had to be stopped. Masters might have control of the SSR in California, but Carter had never needed the resources to cause trouble, and Sousa was smarter than all the agents Masters could order around put together.

Peggy’s expression when she’d realised he was trying to blackmail her flashed across Jack’s mind. He needed more information before he took this to her. Something tangible he could bring her rather than just showing up with his hat in his hand and tail between his legs.

*****

Frost carefully outlined another circuit diagram. This time one for a delayed activation switch. She had the rest of the device mostly figured out. The main system that doubled the radiation from the fuel rods back on themselves, creating a feedback loop to increase the energy. An outlet to direct that energy at the weak point the original blast had identified. The outside power source to jump start the reaction.

Diagram done, she added the page to the ever growing collection on the wall. It was good. A solid invention. The power of a nuclear meltdown directed at a space the size of a dinner plate. A truly effective and potentially devastating weapon.

It wasn’t what the Zero Matter had wanted her to build.

It was close. As close as she could make it from memory. But it wasn’t right. There had been some clever way of altering the energy. Changing the alpha radiation the reaction would produce into gamma rays that would be more effective for the task. She knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t think of how to do it.

She wished she had the Roxxon warheads. Carter had played a nasty trick imitating them the way she had. Whitney still wasn’t sure how she’d made the coating she’d used. Finding new ones meant adding an extra variable. One she could overcome. One it would be easier to overcome if she could remember how the Zero Matter had wanted her to alter the radiation.

She pulled another page towards her. A grounding mechanism. She needed a grounding mechanism.

“Wall’s almost full,” Manfredi said, leaning against the doorframe to watch her work. The technical mechanical drawings weren’t the unnerving part of her new wallpaper. Those were normal. She’d always loved a good blueprint. He remembered the closet of a room in that terrible rooming house she’d lived in when he first met her. The walls plastered with torn out pages from Popular Mechanics. She was beautiful, but she was also brilliant. No, the freaky part of the wall was the more ‘artistic’ sketch pinned above all the others. The ragged swirling black hole darkening the sky over the desert. That worried him.

Frost sat back in her chair. It was. When Masters brought her the bombs, she’d be ready. “I’ll need more paper.”

“We can do that.” He’d get her anything she wanted. Paper, sheet metal, more copper tubing than he knew what to do with. “But first, let’s get some food into you.”

“No. No, I should finish this.” She wanted it to be perfect. Once she had her uranium, everything had to go right. And once it went right, she’d have the Zero Matter back. She looked up at the sketch of her vision. Choppy charcoal lines rather than the photo perfect image that had existed in her mind. Everything would be okay once she had the Zero Matter back.

“Whatever you say, doll.” Manfredi rubbed the back of her neck. She was so beautiful when she was passionate about something. He hadn’t seen her like this in years. “I’ll put a plate in the oven for you.”

Chapter 28: The More Things Change

Stark had a nice sitting room. Grant couldn’t deny it. He could wish the Ancient One had sent them through a portal to somewhere cosy rather than grand, but that was personal preference and the fact he really wanted to sit down and actually have a conversation with Peggy now that all the cards were on the table. He’d promised he’d explain once things had calmed down. They had explained, even if things hadn’t particularly calmed down. But explaining the world-ending threat and figuring out where the two of them stood were very different things.

He sat himself at one end of the couch, making sure she didn’t have to look up to talk to him, and that she had space to sit if she’d rather relax than pace. “How you holding up? It’s been a long day.”

“I have been awake for all of four hours. The folding of time and space for travel purposes notwithstanding.” Peggy waved her hand dismissively. Admittedly, she hadn’t slept particularly well. Stewing as she had been on the perceived betrayal. But that hardly mattered.

Just space. During their initial planning, well before they’d come back to this century, the Ancient One had explained her portals by stabbing a pencil through a sheet of paper. Probably not an important detail at this point. He’d have to remember to have Ayame give Peggy a more thorough tutorial once they were done with all this Frost business. “We packed a lot into those four hours, and you seem to keep forgetting about that stab wound in your side.”

They had packed a lot in. And yet, Peggy still had questions. “You still haven’t told me what your new last name is.”

Grant rubbed the back of his neck. Right. That. A pretty important part of the conversation he both wanted to have and desperately wanted to avoid. He’d planned to hash that out with her this morning. The slap had kind of disrupted things. “I was thinking… Carter.”

“You’d take my name?” Peggy was surprised. Both at the idea, and at how warm it made her chest feel.

Grant looked up at her shyly. Yeah. He would. It had felt like a solid plan when Steve had suggested it, and a few days with her had only assured him what a good idea it was. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

“And if I’m not?” Because Peggy seriously doubted the group that had plotted this whole thing had failed to account for such an obvious contingency.

“I have a second set of documents that say Reilly on them.” His grandmother’s maiden name. A name he knew, but not one he was particularly attached to. He didn’t like thinking he might need them. He’d still asked Steve to have them made. Just in case.

Peggy licked her lips. If they were going to have a relationship, having the same last name would raise fewer questions. If being the operative word. “You and I need to have several conversations.”

“We do,” Grant agreed. Not just about his name. About... well, everything. It was one thing for them both to agree to guard the Infinity Stones that were on Earth. It was another for them to figure out what that actually looked like at an individual level. The two of them would have to be something to each other. But what would be complicated until they cleared away the lingering mysteries between them.

Peggy shifted her weight, though whether towards or away from him she couldn’t say. Some of those conversations needed to happen sooner than others. “I said I would help professionally. You and I—”

“Right now, I’m just a team member helping out with the immediate issue.” Grant caught her hand. Kissed her fingers, the inside of her wrist. Not quite in keeping with the statement, but impossible to resist in the moment. He understood why she was conflicted. He’d hurt her. Getting past it wouldn’t be easy. But he was willing to put in the work if she’d let him. “We can figure out after, after.”

Together. She felt the unspoken word in the brush of his lips. It would be so easy. All she had to do was sink into his lap. Set her knees on either side of his and tell him how much she’d missed him. Let him soothe the ache in her heart along with the one in her side. She hadn’t slept at all last night. If she asked, he’d ensure she was too worn out to do anything but sleep tonight. And that when she did, her bed wasn’t cold. “Grant…”

“Peggy?” Grant prompted softly. He kind of loved how his new name sounded when she said it. Round and warm. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. He wanted to hear it in every variation.

“Carter!” Jack Thompson’s voice cut across the moment. Peggy’s boss storming into the room without an invitation.

“Chief Thompson.” Peggy turned sharply to face him. That was one way to stop her doing something stupid. She shouldn’t resent him saving her from herself as much as she did. “Was there something I can help you with?”

“You were right. The file was a forgery,” Jack admitted sheepishly. Listening to Masters confess exactly what Peggy had accused him of had been a gut punch.

An involuntary snort escaped from Grant. Yeah. Obviously, it was. He would have figured that out a lot sooner if he’d listened to Peggy. If that was what was interrupting his moment, he was going to be more than a little irritated. “What changed your mind?”

Jack narrowed his eyes. There was something about the large man occupying the couch. He’d looked like he’d been seriously considering kissing Carter when he’d come in, but that wasn’t what was making Jack’s brain itch in recognition. At least he didn’t think it was. “Have we met?”

Grant scratched his newly grown in beard. Thick enough now to disguise his features. He didn’t hate how it looked, but it would take getting used to. “I doubt it. I’ve been in Germany for the last three years.”

A reasonable answer. Lots of guys had stayed on the continent after the war. That didn’t explain where Jack knew him from. Jack hadn’t fought in Europe. The closest he’d ever been was London, and even that hadn’t been during the war. “Where were you before that?”

“Spent some time in Italy and France.” Grant stretched his arms along the back of the couch. Somehow, this felt less like it had anything to do with his crashing this conversation, and more to do with his touching Peggy. But she was the one who got to choose who touched her. Not this stuck-up prig who’d tried to blackmail her less than forty-eight hours ago. “Stanford before that.”

Nowhere near Yale or the South Pacific. Still, Thompson would swear he’d met him somewhere before. “Did you row crew?”

“Boxed a little,” Grant shrugged. Adding the sport to his background had been a fight. Ayame had worried there were too many moving pieces in a competitive sport. Too many people who could sniff out the lie. Bucky had defended the move, reminding her that he didn’t have to be the best at it. He could box casually, rather than lose something that mattered to him. Peggy had cast the deciding vote. Reminding her that he could throw a significantly better punch than standard military training would account for. So, he’d gotten his boxing. A hypothetical heavy bag in a hypothetical garage, assuming he could win Peggy back as more than an ally. “I’d rather be in the dark room, if I’m honest.”

“You’re a photographer?” Thompson would have pegged him as something more military. A commissioned officer or the like. Discharged, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t look so scruffy. Or maybe something naval.

Grant stayed relaxed and motionless. Yeah, he was. It was new, and he hadn’t actually learned to use a dark room yet. But that was the plan. It had been Bucky’s idea. A way for him to keep his art and insert himself into almost any area of the world. With the added benefit of letting him hide behind the camera rather than be photographed himself. “I dabble.”

“Chief Thompson,” Peggy said his name sharply. While she was sure Grant could withstand it, she didn’t particularly care for this interrogation. “The matter at hand.”

Right. It didn’t actually matter who the guy was. Peggy clearly trusted him, and Jack knew he needed help. Even if he hated to admit it. “I heard Masters talking to Frost. They’re working together. He’s in on her whole plan. He’s helping her try to recreate the experiment that created the Zero Matter in the first place.”

Peggy waited impassively. They’d expected that. Given what they knew of Masters, Thompson’s involvement, Frost’s meeting with the council during the party, the way Daniel had been relieved of his duties, it only made sense. Someone had to have ordered Jack to collect the document. If it was a revelation to Jack, that only meant he hadn’t been paying attention. Willfully so.

Jack swallowed. Yeah, he hadn’t thought she’d be caught on the back foot. Although a little shock would have been nice. “It gets worse.”

There it was. His turning up in such a state didn’t make sense if all he’d done was confirm her assertions. No, if he had come for help, it was because things had escaped his control. Or more accurately, they had always been out of his control, and he had only just noticed.

“They still haven’t found the nukes missing from Roxxon.” That was the good news. If you could call missing nukes good news. Jack was hoping Peggy had some insights that would help them out before it became an actual issue. Maybe a crate a little bigger than a bread box stashed in a corner somewhere.

“Oh?” Peggy asked innocently. That was a loose end they’d have to tie up at some point. Maybe they could sneak a transfer order into Roxxon’s archives and leave them where they were. There were only a handful of living people on that side who knew better. The army side was more of an issue, but they’d figure it out.

Yeah. She knew something. Which almost counted as good news in and of itself. Thompson wished he had more of it. Unfortunately, all the other scraps of information he scrounged together in the last twenty-four hours was bad. “But they found a substitution. The original report was wrong. Roxxon made three more bombs during the last months of the war. They were in storage at Camp Beale. Masters got them to release them to him. Frost is going to try and make more of that Zero Matter stuff.”

Peggy cursed. Barnes and his wife had done their job too well. Frost and Masters must have reached out to all their contacts. Some poor private had probably spent an indecent amount of time combing through records on what should have been a wild goose chase. She was sure several others had been press ganged into the same service. She should have known Frost would be frantic when she lost the Zero Matter. Should have seen this coming and checked that there truly was no way Frost could locate the uranium before she ever left the country.

No. They had needed to replace the Aether as quickly as possible. She’d seen the consequences there with her own eyes. Heard the full explanation from Grant, Bucky, and Ayame’s lips. The delay to secure their back trail would have left them too vulnerable.

One small bright spot, Jack’s decision to bring the revelation directly to her meant it was unlikely she’d be on the street without a job. A positive sign. Whatever Ayame’s plan to establish her in the intelligence services was, it would be complicated by a dishonourable dismissal from that community. If she wanted to stay close to the Tesseract, she needed to stay in the loop.

“Right.” Peggy straightened her spine determinedly. Nothing for it. “We’ll just have to steal them back.”

Thompson looked around hopefully. “Where are the Howling Commandos?”

“Regrettably, they had to return to Europe. Not to worry. I’m sure we can handle whatever Frost has planned.” Possibly an optimistic assessment given that she had apparently already gotten a hold of not just uranium, but the exact uranium she was looking for. “Come on. We’ll pick up Daniel on the way.”

*****

One small mercy, they didn’t seem to have abandoned the stolen truck. The tracking device had been a backup plan. A contingency in case their trap had failed as spectacularly as the first one had. Gabe hadn’t even started on installing it until they were sure everything else was ready. Peggy was especially glad they’d implemented it now that it was proving so useful. Really, the only thing she could have wished for was that the warehouse wasn’t so very far from the Stark home.

Even if the uranium wasn’t here, there were sure to be clues as to where they had taken it at the very least. Although, eyeing the warehouse down the street, Peggy had high hopes for finding what they were looking for. It was a slightly decrepit building. Grimy, the painted sign on the front peeling. Anything but welcoming for a civilian looking to conduct legitimate business. But the more structural elements — doors, fence, what was visible of the roof — were well maintained. If she were looking for somewhere private to build a sizable machine, Peggy would look for somewhere exactly like this.

She looked at Daniel in the driver’s seat, studying the building with the same critical eye she was. “Wait here. Jack and I will investigate the inside.”

Daniel’s jaw twitched. They were leaving him with the car. Of course, they were leaving him with the car.

Peggy saw the irritation in Daniel’s expression. “Jack, would you mind grabbing the bag of tools from the trunk?”

“On it,” Jack agreed. Slightly distracted by the fact he really was doing this. He was really going to steal the nuclear cores Masters had worked so hard to locate for Whitney Frost. He was going to undermine Vernon’s plans. Hitch his wagon to Peggy’s circus even as it went down in flames.

Peggy waited until Jack had exited the car and closed the door to explain. “I’m leaving you here because I don’t entirely trust Thompson not to have another change of heart and leave us stranded here holding a sack of uranium.”

That... was a pretty good point. Probably the truth too. Peggy never babied him because of his leg. Expecting him to keep up or let her know when he couldn’t. That’s all she was doing now. Taking control of this disaster of a situation. Giving him a job that was as important as the one she was taking on herself. “How long?”

Peggy pursed her lips, considering. The warehouse wasn’t particularly large. Admittedly, she wasn’t entirely sure what the layout inside was, but she doubted it was particularly labyrinthine. They were assuming the uranium was still in or around the truck. A hope, but not an unfounded one. At the very least, they should be able to find some clues for where it had gone. “Twenty minutes, but don’t panic until we hit the hour mark.”

Daniel nodded. He still didn’t like being left behind. But he couldn’t argue with either her logic or her efficiency. A cold lump settled in his stomach as he watched her and Jack walk away. He’d be ready to move. But God he wished he could go with them. As much as he hated being in the thick of things, he missed being in the thick of things.

Thompson trailing her, Peggy circled the building. Along the front wall were a pair of doors. One large for vehicles. The other smaller, set below the nearly illegible sign. Peggy was hoping they weren’t the only entrances. They were sure to be guarded. Peggy hated coming at the enemy head on. Especially through a choke point. Better to find an alternate, possibly less obvious, option.

Like the high cloister window in the back wall. Open for ventilation in the growing heat of the day.

Peggy eyed the opening. It was set high on the wall, but not unreachably so, especially not with Thompson to help her. It was also narrower than she would have liked, but her hips should fit in and the crate should fit out. The bag as well unless the originals were longer than what Barnes and his wife had left in their place. That was a bridge she would cross once she got the fuel rods in hand. For now, the window was clearly the best option for entrance. She had worn practical shoes and it was the closest opening to where the truck presumably was. “Right. Lift me up.”

Jack did a double take. Looking between Peggy and the blank wall so fast his neck twinged. “What?”

“Up.” Peggy gestured at the glass panes above her head. Maybe she should have brought Grant. Yes, he was recognizable, but he also kept up with her and didn’t ask stupid questions. “So I can see in the window.”

“They’ll see you.” Jack tried to make it sound like an explanation rather than a scared squawk. He wasn’t sure it quite came off. But it was too late. It was out there.

“You think they’re expecting someone to have snuck around the back of the warehouse to peep in a window eight feet off the ground?” Peggy asked crisply. Now was not the time for debate. Now was when they should be exploiting the negligible advantage of no one knowing they were here.

No. They probably weren’t. Officially, he was supposed to be on a train back to New York and Peggy was ensconced by Howard Stark’s pool. “But—”

“Very well.” Peggy’s patience was rather thin today. She blamed lack of sleep and the way her stitches were pulling. Although it might also have something to do with the contrast between working with the Howling Commandos all last week and then being saddled with a ‘team’ much less willing to trust her good sense implicitly. “What precisely is your plan? Will the uranium to come to us? Hope it just tootles out the door unattended?”

Of course not, that was ridiculous. His primary plan had been to update Peggy and let her come up with a plan to deal with it. He’d just thought there would be more… planning… “Well—”

“Exactly. Now if you wouldn’t mind?” Peggy indicated the window again. They were wasting time. The longer they and their getaway car hung around, the more likely it was that someone would get suspicious.

The view through the window was everything Peggy could have hoped for. A wide-open bay, dotted with conveniently placed cover. A single guard stationed by the main door she had bypassed earlier. Clearly bored and inattentive, not even facing towards her. The truck was barely ten feet away. It was probably too much to hope that the uranium was tucked neatly into the back with the decoys, but it was somewhere to start at least.

“Pass up the bag,” Peggy whispered down to Jack. She was reasonably sure she could lower it down onto one of the crates that lined the inside wall if she was careful.

With a grunt, Jack shifted her weight so he could free a hand. With her calves braced against his shoulder, he just about managed to get the bag up to her.

Her fingertips brushed the strap twice before she managed to get a grip and hoist it up and through the window. She slung the canvas sack with its precious cargo through the window. Easing it as far down as she could before letting go.

The bag landed on the crate with a muffled thump. Not nearly loud enough to draw the attention of the guard. Lovely.

Now to get herself inside. “A little higher.”

He boosted her the few inches she needed to shimmy herself through the window. Hinging at the hips and squirming until she could drop smoothly in next to the bag. Not perfectly silent, but unnoticed.

Jack let out a yelp as she disappeared inside. The window too high for him to follow her.

*****

That they might store the uranium in the back of the truck alongside the decoy was too much to hope. All she found when she peeked into the back were the remnants of a very impressive temper tantrum. Apparently, Frost could be rather destructive even without the Zero Matter. She also seemed to have taken issue with their little trick when she’d discovered it. Given the state of the truck, Peggy hoped she could avoid running into the woman. If she was this mad at the inanimate, she’d hate to see how she’d treat the perpetrator.

It was unlikely to be an issue. Given the guard situation, Frost was unlikely to be in residence. Understandable. The warehouse was set up for fabrication. Not the sort of place someone used to comfort would think to hang around if she wasn’t actually in production. The question was, where in her production facility would Frost keep her most precious component. Given its volatility, taking it away didn’t make sense. Neither did storing it just willy nilly. Somewhere secure. Somewhere it wasn’t going to cause issues. Where the uninformed weren’t going to pick it up and undo all her work.

Somewhere like behind that lovely, almost certainly locked, door in the middle of the warehouse. The moderately sized room had probably been the offices before it had been converted. Exactly the sort of place Peggy would secure her most important work if she were building a doomsday machine.

Six silent steps took Peggy from the back of the truck to the door.

If this were Peggy’s operation, she’d have the head of whoever had stacked the crates next to the office. As it was, she was frankly grateful for them. Storing them here was clearly convenient. It meant carrying the heavy boxes the shortest distance from the loading door, and anyone working inside the secure space would only need to poke their head out to find the parts and supplies they were looking for. They also made an absolutely brilliant screen between the door and the guard post. If she stood up straight, he might spot her. Assuming he could be bothered to turn his head. The over confidence on display was truly stunning. But as long as she stayed crouched by the door, she was invisible. And crouched by the door was exactly where she needed to be to work on the door’s lock.

The lock which was yet another display of hubris. Whoever had bought it had clearly spent money. It was a high-quality model. One with the notable flaw of not having a shielded keyway. Even a modicum of practical experience would have ruled it out. Peggy extracted the lock picks from her bag and set to work. A little tension on the cylinder, a hard jab to the back of the lock, and the door clicked open.

It was so deeply gratifying when things went to plan. After the chaos of the last week, it was very nice to feel in control.

Even nicer to find what she was looking for exactly where she expected it.

A large storage crate sat prominently on the main worktable. Warnings lining the sides. Peggy let herself smile as she slipped inside. She pushed the door almost closed behind her. Not so far that it latched, but enough to give herself some privacy.

Letting Dernier rummage around Stark’s lab had produced some marvellously useful things Jarvis hadn’t known the use for or thought of. Like the lightweight radiation shielding tubes she had brought with her. They weren’t good enough for long-term storage, but they were at least as good as the crate in front of her for transportation and less than half the size and weight. She lined them up on the edge of the table, open and waiting, then extracted tongs and gloves from the bag.

Even with gloves and tongs, the process of getting the rods from the crate to the individual cases was fiddly. The tongs were the problem. Getting everything properly aligned, lowering each individual rod into the soft, non-reactive padding, and sealing each unit took long moments. Thankfully, uninterrupted moments. But Peggy was very conscious of the precarious situation she found herself in as time ticked on. Each creak of wood and breath of air was her discovery. Her fingers itched to check that her gun was still in place even as her brain screamed that the slightest slip could level not just the building, but the whole block.

Finally, the last lid closed, and she could bundle all three containers in a swath of flannel cloth and secure them in her bag. Zipping everything shut with a satisfyingly final sound.

There was no way the theft would go unnoticed. Even if the goons on guard had strict orders to stay out of this room, Frost would notice as soon as she set foot inside. And once she noticed, Peggy and her friends would be the prime suspects. The only suspects really. Because who else would even suspect that award-winning actress Whitney Frost was in possession of a set of nuclear warheads.

Except perhaps the Soviet agent who had recently escaped Frost’s custody. And she still wasn’t likely to top the list of people Frost would go after unless there was solid evidence of her involvement. Not the easiest thing in the world that she had apparently taken Ayame’s directive to heart and fled the country.

Luckily, Peggy had just that thing for this. Ayame had returned Dottie’s necklace to her after their first unsuccessful attempt to retrieve the Zero Matter. The diamonds weren’t something Peggy would wear herself while breaking into a lab, even a makeshift one like this. But they were recognisable, and she doubted anyone would question the practicality. Frost didn’t have experience with covert operations and men rarely thought about the utility of female accessories. She snapped three links off. Dropping the sparkling stones onto the floor and kicking them into the corner where baseboard met floor. Exactly where they would have landed if someone had caught themselves on the crate and not noticed their loss in the hurry to get away.

Careful not to shift the rods in their nest, Peggy slung the bag over her shoulder. Now it was simply a matter of slipping back out the way she came in and she could cross this little problem off her list.

Notes:

Sorry I missed last week, I've been laid up with a really bad cold. Between getting sick and some other personal stuff, I'm a bit behind on my writing. Hopping to catch up here but we might have to go down to every two weeks for a little while.

Thanks for staying with me. ❤️

Chapter 29: Prior Acquaintances

Grant leaned back into the couch, staring at the living room ceiling. He knew why he was staying behind. Frost was smart. And she did theatrics for a living. The beard wasn’t exactly an impenetrable disguise. And someone needed to babysit Wilkes until they were sure Frost and Manfredi weren’t going to make another play for him. Jarvis was great, but he was also distracted by Anna’s injured leg and didn’t exactly scream ‘bodyguard’ at the best of times. Not that knowing and understanding the utility of his being here rather than with Peggy in the thick of things did anything to stop his molars creaking.

It was all nerves. He knew that. Peggy could handle anything Frost threw at her and keep going. And Daniel might ruffle his feathers, but Grant would freely admit he was a talented professional. Thompson was more of a grey area. His change of heart seemed genuine, but he had tried to blackmail Peggy less than two days ago. He was also their best shot at an inside man and figuring out where Frost had stashed the nukes without tipping their hand that they knew she had them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the door opening. A reminder that he was being a bad houseguest. “Hey, Jarvis. Sorry we didn’t tell you we were back. Pegs is out again already. I’m probably just going to shower, maybe grab a nap. Should be a pretty quiet day on our end.”

“You’re not dead in the North Atlantic? Why aren’t you dead in the North Atlantic? Jarvis said you weren’t dead in the North Atlantic, but I didn’t believe him.”

Not Jarvis. Stark the elder. They’d talked about what they were going to tell Howard. Not the time travel part obviously, none of them wanted Howard to get his teeth around that particular bit given the consequences. They had also talked about how they were going to tell him. This was very far from that plan. “How many times are you going to say ‘dead in the North Atlantic’? Because I’ll be honest, it brings up some stuff for me.”

Howard collided with the other man’s chest as he stood. Big and solid and exactly the same as the last time he’d hugged him. “You’re alive!”

“Howard.” Grant patted the other man awkwardly on the back. He was glad to see his friend too. “Are you having a manic episode?”

“What, no, of course not.” Howard jerked back to standing. Smoothing moustache and jacket. “I’m just excited that you’re alive. And that I figured out how to counteract that Zero Matter stuff Carter’s been banging on about. It was simple. Probably could have sent all the instructions you need by telegram, but I figured I should check if my butler was hallucinating due to stress. The Zero Matter stuff is susceptible to gamma radiation. I developed a cannon so you can expose Frost from a distance.”

That sounded like Howard. “Spend a lot of time thinking about exposing Frost, do you?”

A grin curved Howard’s moustache. If he was having a manic break, he’d earned this one. He hadn’t felt this relieved since Steve had walked back into camp after Kreischberg, and maybe not even then. “I’m an up-and-coming Hollywood director with taste. She’s exactly the kind of talent I’m looking for.”

“Genocidal?” Grant couldn’t resist smiling back. Maybe he didn’t need to explain right now. Maybe they could just act like everything was fine and it would be.

Howard made an exaggerated face. He couldn’t actually argue with that assessment. Not with the reports Jarvis had been sending him. That didn’t stop her from being absolutely gorgeous. “Do you want to see my designs or not?”

“Yeah, go on.” Grant jerked his head in the direction of the garage. Doctor Wilkes was still asleep. But having a project when he woke up would be good for him. And Howard would like the guy. He always liked having someone who spoke the same language he did.

*****

Stopping at a diner with a trunk full of twice stolen uranium fuel rods was probably less than wise. Peggy could tell herself that it was part of her plan to draw out any pursuit. That they were playing it cool and acting like nothing was wrong rather than rushing around like the criminals they were. But at least part of her had suggested the stop in an effort to keep Jack and Grant apart. She was reluctant to let her section chief have another crack at interrogating her 'mystery man' until she’d had a chance to prep him. Thompson might resort to violence during interrogation more than Peggy thought was strictly necessary, but that didn’t mean he was completely incapable of using other techniques to extract information. They needed to get their stories straight before they had more than incidental contact.

Plus, she was absolutely ravenous. Having only eaten half her dinner last night and then skipped breakfast this morning, her stomach was more than a little displeased at her neglect. The club sandwich she had ordered wasn’t just a good idea, it was a matter of life and death. There was a very real possibility that she would faint during the hour drive they still had ahead of them without it.

And a glorious specimen of a sandwich it was. Three beautifully toasted layers of sourdough bread, juicy looking chicken breast, bright tomatoes, crispy bacon. Exactly what she needed to bring her back to life. Just the scent of it was revitalizing.

“Who is that guy from this morning anyway?” Thompson asked, shoving fries into his mouth. He still couldn’t shake the feeling he knew the man from somewhere.

“Grant?” Peggy asked, sandwich halfway off her plate. She’d been salivating a moment ago. Now her mouth was frighteningly dry.

“Sure.” Thompson hadn't actually caught his name, but that sounded believable. Impossible to say if it was Grant something, or something Grant. Carter usually defaulted to that very British habit of referring to even her friends by their last name. But the way she said it sounded intimate. And they hadn’t exactly been standing at a distance that said ‘acquaintances.’

“We knew each other during the war.” Peggy managed a reasonably casual shrug. If Thompson read any of her complicated feelings into the gesture, well, regardless of where she and Grant landed, their past and future were complicated. And it was a true enough statement. They had known each other during the war. It was now they were trying to learn the outlines of their relationship again.

“But from where?” Thompson pushed. There wasn’t a lot of overlap between his life and Carter’s before they started working together. If he could narrow it down maybe he could figure out why the guy kept tugging at his memories. “Was he with the 107th?” That would make sense. News reels had been at least half his entertainment during the war. Even if the guy was just in the background of a few, he might remember the face.

“She saved his ass.” Daniel wasn’t sure what possessed him to say anything, let alone that. Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound. “He wasn’t with the 107th. He was with my unit. 28th infantry. We were pinned down at Bastogne. Peggy was with the 107th when they broke us out.”

Daniel stole a quick look at Peggy out of the corner of his eye. He was sure he’d just complicated her life in the long run. But she and ‘Grant’ hadn’t shared a better story so far and it had shut Jack up for now at least.

Peggy set her sandwich back down. She forgot sometimes that Daniel had met Steve before. However briefly. She wished they could address any of this more deeply. She and Daniel hadn’t really had a chance to talk since Grant returned to her life and involved both of them in his little conspiracy. He’d taken everything in stride, including now when he was covering for Grant better than she was, but his feelings couldn’t all be uncomplicated. “He was terribly charming on the way back to the field hospital. Made all of us laugh. We traded a few letters afterwards, but it was hard to be a good correspondent with everything going on.”

“How did Captain America feel about his main squeeze getting letters from another guy?” Thompson asked, reaching for yet more fries. Daniel knowing the guy might explain it. He’d had a unit photo on his desk for a while. Maybe that was it.

“Captain Rogers had more important things to worry about than my correspondence.” Oh, her jealous fool. Peggy’s chest felt tight. He would have hated if she’d taken up as a pen pal to someone else. Even if it had never been more than friendly letters. Would have growled and snarled, and completely given himself away for all he wouldn’t have actually said anything. He had tried to do better after the fondue misunderstanding, but he’d never quite gotten over his self-consciousness when it came to her. She hadn’t minded reassuring him once she’d understood that his possessiveness was all nerves. Not when reassuring usually ended with sweet kisses and caresses.

That felt like as good a time to change the topic as any. Daniel could hear the brittleness starting in Peggy’s voice. If Jack kept pushing, she would start to show cracks. And it wasn’t like they didn’t have other things to talk about. “What are we going to do with the uranium?”

“I don’t know,” Peggy admitted. Honestly, Ayame’s plan of hiding it at Camp Beale was a better plan than anything Peggy could come up with on short notice. “Take it back to Stark’s for now. He has a containment unit at least.”

Thompson did a double take. All thoughts of mystery men erased. “He has a radiation containment unit in his garage? Why?”

Peggy hadn’t even thought to question it. You spent enough time around Stark and you just came to accept that if it was weird and had the potential to explode, Howard had it. She couldn’t count the number of times she had gone looking for him during the war and found him playing with different shapes of C4. The only thing that might have outnumbered it were the times she’d found him with a woman. She shrugged, and finally took a hearty bite of her sandwich. “Why wouldn’t he?”

*****

Arriving at the Stark property wasn’t as relaxing as Peggy had been anticipating. Getting the uranium to the containment unit should have been a moment of relief. A risk removed, even if they didn’t have a long-term plan for what to do with either the nuclear material or Frost. Instead, pulling up to the building sent an anxious thrill up her spine.

There was a second car sitting in the driveway. Even flashier than the one Jarvis had been driving her around in. A sharp red speedster. Howard’s favourite car when he had to drive himself.

“Oh blast.” Peggy had really been hoping she’d get to ease Stark into the idea that Steve was back.

“What’s wrong?” Daniel’s hand tightened on the wheel. He didn’t see a threat. But it had been a hell of a week. He would more than believe she had picked up on something he hadn’t. Today had just gone too well otherwise.

“Nothing.” Probably nothing. Howard loved Steve. He wouldn’t do anything that would put him in danger. …Except by accident. Howard’s big mouth would be the death of him, if not of them all. “I just need to check on the containment situation. Wait here. Shan’t be a moment.”

She left before they could argue. Closing the car door firmly behind her. When you got the answer you wanted, you stopped asking. It was the best advice Howard had ever given her. How fitting it was that she was living by it now.

*****

Hurrying into the lab, Peggy put on her sweetest, most mollifying smile. Nothing for it now. She’d just have to make sure he didn’t give the game away long enough to send Thompson away. Hopefully, Daniel would help with shepherding Jack on his way. “Howard, I thought you were unavailable. Completely unable to leave your film set. You said you were at a critical point in production.”

“You didn’t say Steve was part of the excitement,” Howard shot back accusatorially.

“Grant,” Grant corrected. The less they said his old name the sooner they’d forget he had ever had one. Howard would pick it up. Peggy had. Or maybe she’d just been too busy to think about it. “How’d it go?”

“Another night of guard duty, I’m afraid.” Peggy let herself smile at the self-deprecating announcement of success. They wouldn’t need to do guard duty if she hadn’t managed to retrieve the uranium with next to no complications. But she had. They were sitting safely in the trunk of the car. Spirited away without even a trace of their being discovered.

A grin broke across Grant’s face. He hadn’t doubted her for a second. “I can sit up.”

Peggy glanced back over her shoulder. As nice as it was to be properly appreciated, they were rather in the middle of something. The last thing she needed was Thompson barging in to find out what was taking so long at the same moment Howard made another indelicate comment about his identity. “The others are waiting in the car.”

Grant nodded. The driveway wasn’t the best place to store nuclear material. Not when Stark had that fun vault thing in the corner. “You get the containment unit spun up. I’ll grab the rods.”

“Grant.” Peggy stopped him before he could make it out of the lab. “Try to avoid talking to Thompson. He’s fishing. We had to elaborate on your back story more than I would have liked.”

Yeah, Grant had kind of expected something like that. Or he would have, if he hadn’t been busy with Howard all day. Thompson had already gotten more out of him than he’d intended. Something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way. Not just the blackmail either. “I’ll watch myself.”

Peggy was reasonably sure she could trust Grant to control himself. Especially if Thompson was only prying for information on his past and not interrupting a moment. Because Grant was fully aware of what she looked like when she was about to climb into his lap and kiss him until she couldn’t breathe. Which meant he’d known what she’d been thinking right before Jack had shown up.

She shouldn’t be grateful that there was a crisis for her to deal with. But she was mildly grateful that she could interrogate Stark on how much he knew and whether he could keep their secret rather than her own feelings about that interrupted moment. She had been so close to convincing herself that she wasn’t going to take him back. Then he had to go and tell her he wanted to take her bloody name. She was all sixes and sevens. Completely at a loss as to what she was going to do with him.

She didn’t need to know right now. Right now, she needed to make sure they were all on the same page. “Where’s Doctor Wilkes?”

“Headed to bed right after dinner,” Howard answered quickly. Peggy seemed stressed. Which meant making her wait for information was dangerous. “He seems frail.”

“He’s had a rather hard week,” Peggy said defensively. Wilkes was a brilliant scientist who had been through hell. Needing time to recover wasn’t a sign of weakness.

“Can we talk about the real elephant in the room?” Not that Howard didn’t appreciate Peggy taking over his recruiting. The woman had an eye for talent. A couple of hours listening to Wilkes talk and one look at his revisions for the gamma cannon, and Howard was absolutely sure he’d found the new head of his research and development department. But new friends and employees weren’t quite as important to him as the survival of the greatest hero America had ever known. “Steve’s back.”

Peggy pursed her lips. Howard had succinctly identified the elephant in the room, although it didn’t seem to be quite what he thought it was. “I assume he told you he’s not back as himself?”

“He said something about going by ‘Grant’ now.” Howard waved his hand dismissively. “Point is, he’s alive.” Howard had spent weeks searching the Arctic. Losing hope with every passing hour. But he was here. As alive as he had ever been.

A lump of ice filled Peggy’s chest. He was. For now, at least. “Don’t give him away, Howard. I’d like to keep him that way.”

*****

“Evening, boys.” Grant clapped Daniel on the back. Glad to see a familiar face, even if he was standing by the car looking worried. “Had a good day?”

“Productive at least,” Daniel agreed. That slap on the shoulder was the perfect show of casual familiarity to reinforce their story. He had to wonder if Peggy had somehow managed to brief Grant during the five minutes she’d been inside. He wouldn’t put it past her. But then he also wouldn’t put it past the two of them to just be that irritatingly in sync with each other.

Grant nodded back towards the lab. Productive was all he could ask for. “Let’s get your prize put away before it gets complicated.”

That sounded like the best idea anyone had had all day. Daniel tried not to wince as he made his way to the back of the car. It hadn’t been that long since his beating. His ribs and joints were still stiff. When this was over, he was taking a long hot bath. Maybe he could talk Violet into going away together for a weekend. She was a good girl, but they were engaged. Why shouldn’t they spend a night or two in the mountains. They could get separated rooms. No mad women with impossible powers. No mob bosses with ‘romantic’ intentions. No senators with grandiose ideas of their own power. Just wind, and trees, a generous tub full of hot water, and Violet’s stunning smile.

*****

Howard was as well-behaved as Peggy could want as they packed the uranium into the clever little safe. He’d made it years ago. Before the Manhattan Project had even started in earnest. Howard had the theory that radioactivity could be harnessed for all sorts of uses. The catch was in order to harness it, one had to work with it. No easy task given the usual difficulty of storing and handling it. The main feeling Peggy took away from his exposition on how the machine worked was gratitude. The uranium would remain stable and secure while they figured out what to do about it and Frost.

And Masters. Because he was an issue in and of himself. Even if they removed Whitney Frost from the equation, Peggy doubted he’d be content stepping back and letting the rest of them get on with it. He had a taste for power. The sips he’d had before wouldn’t be enough now that he’d been presented with a chance to drink straight from the trough.

They needed a plan to deal with it all. And Peggy was too tired to deal with more than the next moment’s crisis. She met Grant’s eyes across the room. Ignoring the voice in the back of her head that told her she could melt into that warm stable side and let him take some of her physical weight as well as the metaphorical. She didn’t see a plan there either. A great deal of confidence that they would find one. But nothing quite as purposeful as an actual plan.

That was alright. They had averted this crisis. They could avert the next one. And eventually, this problem would run out of facets that could cause crises and fade back into nothing. That certainty was easier to believe with Grant looking at her with all the confidence she wanted to feel.

Daniel stretched out his shoulders. He could feel the last of the day slipping away. Longer than the day before. Not as long as the day before that. “I don’t know about you, but in the past five days, I’ve been beaten, fired, and left for dead in the desert. I’m ready for a full night’s sleep.”

And if he got that, he’d follow it up with a few hands of cards to test the change of luck. At the very least, he was hoping for an hour or two at least. Just a nap before the world exploded again. “Give you a ride to your hotel, Thompson?”

Jack winced at the reminder that he was supposed to be on a plane back to New York. Or actually, with explanations and driving, he’d been here a full day longer than planned. “Kind of don’t have one.” He’d checked out in a haze this morning. Still in the middle of the crisis that had led to his coming to find Peggy. Not wanting to give away where he was going, or even sure if he was going.

“Lucky for you, I kind of have a couch.” Daniel jerked his head towards the door. Peggy and Grant had better appreciate this. He was a damn saint, putting up Thompson so he couldn’t pick at the mystery before they figured out a solution to feed him.

Thank you. Peggy mouthed behind Jack’s back. She and Grant would talk through a more thorough backstory. One that included the new details Daniel had given them. But he had bought them time to have that conversation. Both in the giving of those details and in shepherding Thompson away now. The secret would be safe and with it the mission that had brought Grant back.

Jack followed Daniel back outside readily. He needed to head back to Daniel’s place anyway. The car he was borrowing was there, with his suitcase in the trunk. Not that there was anything clean left in the suitcase. He’d find a laundromat tomorrow. Or maybe Daniel’s offer of his couch would stretch to doing some washing up.

*****

The sound of their engine disappeared into the night. The slowly fading noise a gentle punctuation on their adventure. It might not be completely over. But Frost wouldn’t be ending any worlds tonight.

Peggy glanced at the clock. Not that there was much night left. It was nearly midnight already. She’d been going all day with only the sandwich this afternoon for sustenance. Even so, she wasn’t sure she wanted food as much as she wanted to lay down. It was hard to be hungry when her abdomen ached the way it did. “I think I’ll turn in myself.”

“Walk you to your room?” Grant just barely resisted the urge to drag her into his arms for another kiss. He’d been mauling her too often lately. She said they weren’t together again. Yet. He wanted to give her the space she needed to make her decision. Not cling to her so hard he lost her forever.

“If you like.” Peggy lowered her lashes shyly. She didn’t know about the other things implied in his tone. But she wouldn’t mind a quiet moment with him after her day’s excitement.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?” Howard asked in surprise. Because Grant had definitely said her room. Not the room. Not our room. Her room. Like the two of them were sleeping on opposite sides of the hall like blushing young lovers. “This isn’t your mother’s house. No one’s going to tell on you.”

Grant hadn’t thought anyone would. Enough women had spent the night in this house without its owner intending to marry them for Grant to trust that no one here would judge him or Peggy for premarital relations. For that matter, he fully intended to have premarital relations. Just as soon as Peggy agreed. Then marital relations when she agreed to that. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point? Come on. We all know you crazy kids are canoodling. No shame in it.” Howard wanted his friends to be happy. And for Steve and Peggy, ‘happy’ meant together. None of the men who had looked at Peggy since deserved her the way Steve did. Hell, if Howard had had even one more vial of the serum, he would have given it to Peggy and there wouldn’t even have been a question of them losing the war.

“No. There wasn’t,” Grant agreed. Coldly vehement. They’d been in the war. They had deserved what they’d had. And it wasn’t like she’d been a fling. He’d loved Peggy with every fibre of his being. Still did. Even if he was giving her space while they worked through some stuff. “We’re not… together.”

“Why not?!?!” Howard felt like the bedrock was shifting under him. If Steve and Peggy couldn’t make it work, what hope was there for an idiot like him?

“I’m mad at him.” Although when she said it like that it didn’t sound entirely reasonable. It wasn’t like he’d chosen what had happened to him. But she hadn’t chosen to be alone for years either.

“It’s fine, Howard,” Grant said before Howard could object again. “We’re just taking some time.”

Taking time. That felt right. Better certainly than Peggy’s ‘mad at him.’ They were taking the time they had earned. Where that time led them, they would see in the fullness of it. “It has been a long time since the war, Howard.”

*****

Peggy was getting rather used to Grant walking her to bed. There was something about the shared quiet moment outside her door. He used to walk her home almost every night they were both in London. Then he would kiss her goodnight on her doorstep. Promise to see her in the morning. And it had taken all of Peggy’s will and reason not to break every rule of the house and drag him up the stairs to her room. She had felt his matching longing in his every touch. Seen it in his soft blue eyes.

He still kissed her goodnight. The longing was still there. But hers was tempered by pain.

“Is he right?” Peggy smoothed the front of his shirt. Rumpled from the work of the day. Nothing like the crisp uniforms he’d worn during the war. The ones she had torn off him at every opportunity once upon a time. “Am I being too strict with you?”

“No.” Grant caught her hand. Pressing it to his heart. “We’ve got years of trust to rebuild. It’s not going to be like it was before until we put in the work.” Maybe not even then. He’d broken her heart, after all. Although he had faith that wherever they ended up, it would be a good place.

“But,” He let mischief creep into his voice. His eyes sparkling as he looked down at the beautiful woman in front of him. “If you’re cold and lonely, I can keep you company. As a friend.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Barnes.” Peggy smacked him playfully, withdrawing her hand from his too firm chest. Oh, sweet temptation. All the fun with none of the heartbreak. She’d fall into his arms in a moment if it wasn’t a fantasy. But it was. Because he was him. She’d loved him and lost him and couldn’t do it again. And yet her heart was lighter at the suggestion. Anxiety eased by his playfulness.

Grant grinned. She might not be ready to take him back, but she wasn’t pushing him away either. “Night, Pegs.” He dipped his head to plant a bold kiss on her cheek. He could court her the way he had at the beginning. This time without worrying that a girl as amazing as Peggy would never look at a punk like him. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Not that she was going to. Grant was well aware that his Pegs was as stubborn as anything when she wanted to be. Which meant this was as good a time as any to leave her for the evening. He’d come back in the morning. See if she wanted help washing her back again. Just as a friend. At the very least, she’d probably let him get away with eating breakfast with her while they talked through next steps with the uranium and Frost. For now, he’d said he’d stand guard, which meant he had somewhere to be.

“Grant?” Peggy called after him. Clutching the frame of her door to stop herself doing anything impulsive.

Grant stopped and looked back at her. He didn’t think it was an invitation in, but based on her tone, it was important.

“It’s a good surname. Carter is, I mean.” Peggy swallowed. It was an impulsive agreement. But whatever they were now, she didn’t want to close any doors. “I think you’ll do well with it.”

“Yeah.” Grant smiled at her. She wasn’t about to marry him. But it wasn’t totally off the table. “I think so too.”

Chapter 30: Logical Consequences

There was no putting it off any longer. Whitney needed to start fabricating. She still wasn’t happy with her design. Something was still missing. But no amount of sitting staring at a wall was going to make it come to her. Maybe she would find it in the building. Seeing the physical structure might inspire her. She had everything she needed to get started at least. Dear Manfredi, who saw more in her than Chadwick ever had, had used all his connections to assemble her supplies. Masters had been hesitant at first, but he’d come through with the uranium in the end. It would work. It had to work.

The lab Manfredi had given her was more than equipped for what she needed. For days, he and his men had been acquiring all the supplies she could want. Dozens of crates and boxes full of various gages of metal and wire. Screws and bolts galore. A soldering iron and welding torch. All neatly arranged so she could access them easily without them cluttering up her working space.

And of course, the uranium Masters had found her had finally arrived. The time between the nuclear cores being located and their being delivered had been torture. The hours she’d had to wait afterwards while she got all her plans in order had been worse.

She still hadn’t figured out what she was missing.

But it didn’t really matter. Her uranium was waiting. Whitney tossed open the lid of the crate.

And froze. Her mouth going dry.

It wasn’t here. It should be right here. She’d left it in the middle of the table where it couldn’t get jostled. Less than twenty-four hours ago. She’d seen it with her own eyes. She had touched it. And now the crate was empty.

She felt her world shake. Her knees went weak. It was all she could do to sink into the room’s chair rather than collapse to the floor. Beyond the buzzing in her head she could hear Joseph interrogating the men he’d had guarding her lab. Voices growing louder and angrier as they failed to give satisfactory answers.

It hadn’t just been moved. There was no reason to move it and every reason not to touch it.

It was gone.

She had to figure this out. There were no other options. She’d given everything for this. Her looks, her husband, her comfortable life. If this didn’t work, it would all be for nothing.

It would work. She just needed to think. She was smart. She’d gotten herself out of that terrible little house in that terrible little town. She could figure this out. She just needed to think.

“Whitney, baby.” Manfredi sank to his knees in front of her. Gently cupping her cheek. “You alright, doll? What do you need me to do?”

She closed her eyes. They could fix this. She didn’t know how. But she could. They’d found uranium once. There had to be more. Maybe it would have to come from further away. But there would be something. “Call Masters. Tell him I need him here. Don’t tell him why.”

A tiny glimmer caught her attention when she opened her eyes again. Light flashing off a diamond. A stray jewel inexplicably tumbled into a corner. Whitney stooped to snatch it up. It was incongruous.

And it was an answer to who was responsible. “When he gets here, I want to talk to him about our missing prisoner.”

*****

“You what?” Masters didn’t believe what he was hearing. Given the tone of Manfredi’s call, he’d been expecting a setback of some kind. But never this.

“I need more uranium.” Whitney was calm. But it was a fragile calm. It was simple. They either got more uranium, or everything that had happened in the last few weeks was for nothing.

Masters paced restlessly around the small workroom. She made it sound like he could just conjure fissionable material out of thin air. He couldn’t get her more uranium. There wasn’t more uranium. He gotten his hands on the last accessible batch. Everything else was under strict lock and key. Even getting into the compounds housing ‘more’ required multiple congressional signatures. “This isn’t something you can just pick up at the store, you know. Sears doesn’t have a page for radioactive material.”

Whitney stood and started pacing herself. She was tired of this. Of the setbacks. The inconveniences. And above all, the doubt.

Would he be resisting like this if she were a man? A scientist who had gone to one of his fancy schools out east instead of clawing her way out of the gutter through a silver screen? Or would he see it for what it was? An unfortunate setback that they needed to overcome.

Would be overcome. Masters visibly doubted that. But he hadn’t felt the power of the Zero Matter. He didn’t know that it was inevitable. That she was inevitable. He was the one who had failed to properly interrogate, or secure, the woman who had stolen what she needed. “Pick a side, Vernon. You can be one of the winners, or one of the people we crush. It is up to you.”

Masters glared at her. This whole affair was starting to reek of failure. Like he’d put money on the wrong colour of the roulette wheel. It was time to cut his losses and walk away. No point in betting when there was no way he could win. Let Frost keep doubling down. He was too smart to throw good money after bad. “I risked everything to get you uranium once. My career, my reputation, everything. And you not only lost that uranium, you lost the Zero Matter too.”

Manfredi set his hand on his hips. Pushing open his jacket so his gun was visible. “You might want to watch that disrespectful tone.”

Masters rounded on the two-bit gangster. “You had one job. Use the uranium I found for you, at great personal expense, to create more Zero Matter. Now you’re telling me you not only lost the nuclear cores, but the Zero Matter as well? And you’re worried about my tone?”

Masters was starting to move from useful resource to a problem that needed a solution. Whitney’s eyes landed on the grip of the gun just visible under Manfredi’s arm. A permanent solution. If he wasn’t going to help her, she would help herself.

She grabbed the gun before either man could move. Pointing it at the centre of Masters’ chest and pulling the trigger hard.

It kicked in her hand. Louder than she had expected. Louder than any of the fake guns she’d ever shot.

Red bloomed on Masters’ chest. Dark liquid leaking outward from the singed hole. Masters’ jaw went slack. Hand shaking as he raised it towards the stain. His fingers not quite touching the spreading crimson before his arm dropped. His whole body slumped. First to his knees. Then toppling limply to the floor.

She swallowed and stumbled back. It was nothing like when she had absorbed lives with the Zero Matter. It was messy. The air acrid with a coppery scent that made bile rise in her throat.

She had—

He was—

What had she—

Blood pounded in Whitney’s ears. Too loud to hear anything over.

Manfredi grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into the safety of his side. Catching the gun before she could drop it.

He half carried her to a chair. One out of sight of the body. That was a problem of its own. He’d have his guys deal with it in a moment. It was the least they could do after letting someone break in and steal the uranium in the first place.

“It’s alright, doll.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll figure it out. We’ll make things right for you.”

“How?” Whitney’s voice cracked and wavered. Everything was going wrong. She was failing.

She was inevitable. She was supposed to be inevitable. But she wasn’t. Everything was crumbling.

How in-fucking-deed. This wasn’t the Whitney he knew. Whatever that ‘Zero Matter’ stuff was, it had thrown her completely off balance. He needed help. Someone smarter than him to wade through this mess. “We have a pretty good guess who took your uranium. Let me see if I can’t do something about it.”

And see if there was anything he could do to get Whitney back to level.

*****

One of the few personal possessions Grant had with him was his camera. The simple black and chrome Kodak that added veracity to his claim of being into photography. So far, he hadn’t broken it out. With all the excitement, it hadn’t felt like a good time to experiment with his shooting style. Today, while they were waiting for things to develop, Frost’s primary threat neutralized and the crowd of people gone, seemed like a better time to explore. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it as a substitute for his sketchbook. But he could see the draw of instantly capturing a moment in time.

Like the scene in front of him now.

Sweet, worn-out Peggy. Lounging in a spindly metal chair at the breakfast table. Curls mussed. Robe falling open but not indecently so. Elegant fingers wrapped loosely around the body of her teacup. She was a vision. Tired, but anything but weak. Her confidence and competence shining though the fatigue.

He snapped a picture and wound to the next frame of film. Yeah. He could get used to this.

Peggy scrunched her nose at him inelegantly. “Did you just take my photo?”

Grant grinned at her. She’d been there when he’d put this roll of film in his camera, she should have seen it coming. What was the point of spending an hour talking through his life story if he wasn’t going to live it going forward? “I’ve always said you’re a good muse.”

“I’m a mess,” Peggy objected. Un-showered, no makeup, hair in a tangle, robe a rumpled disarray. She wasn’t fit for public consumption. Let alone being immortalized on film.

Grant felt his heart melt. What was he going to do if this firecracker of a woman wouldn’t let him share his life. Bombshell wasn’t just the right descriptor for Peggy because of the curves he would kill to get his hands on again. She had an explosive personality. So much intelligence and passion. “See how the photo turns out before you tell me off. If it’s bad, I’ll let you burn the negative yourself.”

Peggy tried to glare at him. It was hard when his expression was so sweet. She was sure he really would let her burn the negative. He’d always been wonderful about letting her see his sketches and discarding the ones she didn’t like. Not that there had been many. But that was drawing, it was natural that those would be flattering. Photography was a different beast.

“So, what do we do about Frost?” Grant snapped another covert image at what he hoped was an interesting low angle. Winding the camera under the table. The morning sun in her hair was hypnotic.

“We need to arrest her,” Peggy answered. Although, that was easier said than done. Frost was careful, or maybe just lucky. Either way, there wasn’t a judge in the country who’d sign a warrant based on what they had. Let alone a jury that would convict her.

“For what?” Grant agreed wholeheartedly. He just didn’t think they had enough concrete evidence to support a charge of ‘trying to harness an ancient evil power to destroy the world.’ Not once the lawyers got involved. Maybe if they’d had a recording of whatever she did to the Council of Nine that had left six of them all ‘missing.’ But they couldn’t even make a play for trespassing at Roxxon and try to build a case off that. Her late, not particularly lamented, husband had been a primary owner. She and her ‘hired employees’ could wander around the facility all they wanted. Peggy and her boys had been the ones on thin ice there. For all they’d been the ones in the right.

“How about murder?” Daniel asked from the door into the house. He was glad their morning was so cozy. He’d been up since the crack of dawn thanks to an unpleasant phone call. “They just found Masters’ body.”

“What?” Peggy nearly dropped her cup in surprise.

“Floating face down in the bay.” It meant Daniel got his job back. It just wasn’t how he wanted to get it. He’d pictured more daring arrest, fewer body bags. “Jack is identifying the body now, but there’s not a lot of question.”

“Is there any evidence?” Grant asked intently. Because that was what they needed. Hard evidence connecting Frost to even one of the dozens of crimes she had committed in the last few days.

“That links it to Frost? Hard to say.” Not from what Daniel knew so far, but he hadn’t seen the full file yet. Who knew. Maybe there was a signed confession in his pocket. “Might be able to get Manfredi though.” Or one of his guys at least. Maybe use the murder of a sitting senator as leverage to get to the bigger fish. Or maybe run into another dead end and keep playing catch-up until Frost finally got out ahead of them and they truly lost.

“I don’t see him flipping.” Grant knew what it was to be in love with a strong woman. Pros and cons. He couldn’t see Manfredi giving up Frost. Not after everything they had been through.

“You got a better plan?” Because Daniel was starting to wish he’d taken the nice cushy job in the justice department when he’d gotten back from the war. He could be sitting in a cushy office in Chicago stamping papers right now. He’d never have met Violet… or Peggy… But he also wouldn’t be responsible for the country being overthrown or the world ending.

“Nope.” Grant pulled out the chair next to him and filled a new cup with coffee. Daniel looked like he could use it. “Sit down, let’s brainstorm.”

Chapter 31: Time Away

In many ways, this quiet moment was stolen. Thanks to the Ancient One, the three of them had a set of rooms tucked into a pocket dimension. Attached to their home universe, but separated from the flow of time. Bucky knew time outside their rooms wasn’t moving at a normal speed. Here, it had been barely three hours since they had said goodbye to Grant and Peggy, out there…. Bucky had no idea how long it had been. He wasn’t too worried about it either. They were relaxing. Or at least, Bucky was relaxing. Steve and Amy, workaholics that he’d married, were doing ‘productive’ things. If not strenuous things. Ayame had broken down and deep cleaned her swords, now she was rewrapping the hilts so the grip was tight and solid.

Bucky leaned back in the couch. Still tired. But miles more relaxed with his husband and wife both in the same room. His left shoulder ached. The unfamiliar weight of his arm pulling on his muscles. Two years of only wearing it on special occasions had left him unaccustomed to the burden. The vibranium was light compared to what he’d had before, but it still had mass. A solid week was a long time to carry it waking and sleeping.

“Come help me take my arm off, babe?” He didn’t actually care which of them helped him. They’d both pamper him in their own way as they helped with the task. Amy would curl into his lap, gentle clever fingers tapping out the pattern to deactivate the link between arm and body with deft skills and setting the arm aside without shifting her comforting weight from his knees. Then she’d snuggle in under his chin and let herself be held. His fierce girl, a tiger in the face of a threat, always a kitten for him. Stevie would be just as efficient. But his hands would be warm, and he’d wrap himself around Bucky rather than nestling in.

“I’ve got you, Buck.” Steve hurried to set aside the paper he was reading and circled the back of the couch to Bucky.

Working fast, he got the arm off and dumped the limp thing into another chair. Then he started in on rubbing the muscles around the housing. Using warm hands to work the tightness loose. Kissing the back of Bucky’s neck. His ear. The hinge of his jaw. Massaging Bucky’s chest. Slowly taking more of him in his arms. Feeling him relax with the attention. “I’ve always got you.”

Amy smiled at them from her place on the floor. Her fingers tangled in her silk cord. Maybe they should take a nap. Or read a book. It had been absolute ages since the three of them had curled up and read together. She wasn’t sure what books they had with them, but Steve usually carried a paperback around, and it didn’t really matter what the story was, as long as they were together.

Bucky let his head fall to the side, giving Steve more access to his neck. Yeah. That was better. Steve’s hands sliding up and down his chest. Those open-mouthed kisses already making him feel loose and relaxed. Their baby girl looking up at them, all soft and adoring. Nothing in the world to worry about.

Someone tapped at the door. Breaking the spell on their private chambers. The air in the room shifted. Time inside snapping back into rhythm with the time outside.

“Phone call for you, madam.” An orange-robed master of sorcery entered, carrying an elegant phone. Graceful curves of black lacquered wood and polished brass. The handset resting half off the raised brass cradle.

“How long has it been?” Amy asked. Extending her free hand for the phone. One of the benefits of a magical connection to the network was that while the device was still a rotary dial, it wasn’t wired to the wall.

“About twenty-four hours,” the master answered, tucking his hands into his sleeves.

“Well, that can’t be good.” She smiled her thanks at the master and tucked the phone between ear and shoulder. “Mrs. Winters speaking.”

Steve climbed over the back of the couch. Sliding into position with an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. Amy was right. It couldn’t be good.

“Masters is dead,” Peggy said without preamble.

“No real loss there,” Amy snorted. Shifting the phone to balance between ear and shoulder so she could return to her wrapping while she listened. “Why the call?” There had to be a substantial problem for Peggy to call. Or maybe the men of the assembled team were too busy beating their chests to provide useful sounding boards.

The problem, as Peggy explained it to her, was Frost getting more violent and less stable. An impressive feat considering she had been acting as host of a parasitic Infinity Stone until recently. Add in that she was still brilliant, rich, and apparently had access to all the manpower the Italian mob could muster on the West Coast. It was a dangerous combination. Peggy’s biggest stumbling block was what Frost would do next. The Zero Matter was gone. She was out of options for uranium. And yet, she wasn’t to be ignored. What Peggy needed was a clue as to which direction she would bounce so they could try and cut her off.

“Oh, I have absolutely no idea,” Amy answered honestly. This wasn’t her century. She didn’t have all the resources she was used to. She couldn’t just pull up a psychological evaluation on practically any notable person on the planet. On the other hand, they had other resources when it came to getting into the head of a megalomaniac genius. “Why not ask Stark what he’d do? It’s a starting point at least.”

*****

Peggy strode through the door with new conviction. Freshly dressed and full of renewed determination. Ayame might not have spoon fed her the answer, but talking it through had certainly helped. It had been a significantly more productive brainstorming exercise than breakfast with Grant and Daniel had been. Grant had been as well-behaved as she could have wanted, but there had been more than a little testosterone in the air.

Grant’s head snapped up. Searching her face for any sign of what she’d learned. A million thoughts and plans danced behind her eyes. None of them discernible. “What’s the word?”

Peggy considered the advice she’d received. It had been good. Almost exactly what she would have come up with herself in the fullness of time. “She says we should ask—”

“Why are we all just sitting around?” Howard yawned and stretched. Padding onto the terrace in a half-closed robe and a pyjama pants. “Where is the coffee?”

“Well, speak of the devil.” Peggy stood up a little straighter. They were close. She could feel it. There was blood in the water. All they had to do was close in. “Howard, sit down. We need to pick your brain.”

“Can it wait ‘til after coffee, Pegs?” Howard rubbed his eyes. He’d been up until almost three working on his gamma cannon. He was making real progress too. Wilkes’ sleep schedule was as strange as his own was. They’d made some great progress between midnight and two. “‘S too early for an interrogation.”

“It is 11:30,” Peggy corrected stiffly. Far past time to be awake and working when they had a madwoman on their hands.

“Really?” Howard checked his watch, pressing it to his ear and finding it wasn’t ticking. He’d fallen asleep with it on, and it hadn’t been wound. “Grant’s still in his jammies.”

Grant shrugged. He was. Peggy had taken the time to get dressed, but he hadn’t yet. They might not have a plan ready yet, but there was a good chance his part was going to amount to ‘hang back and wait for everything to go wrong.’ Which meant he didn’t need to dress for work just yet. “I’m not in the military anymore.”

“Grant has been up for hours. Attempting to devise a plan to arrest Whitney Frost before she succeeds at flattening everything between Nevada and the Pacific Ocean.” And taking some potentially indecent photos of her. But that hardly seemed relevant in light of the news they had received since. “You have been snoring on silk sheets while a sitting member of the US Senate was murdered.”

“I don’t see you getting all judge-y about Jason sleeping in,” Howard grumbled, taking the seat next to Daniel and reaching for the unfortunately light coffee pot.

“Doctor Wilkes is awake too,” Jason said softly from the French doors.

“Jason!” Peggy lit up in surprise. Given the fact he had been incorporeal until recently, she wouldn’t have judged him for sleeping until well past noon. But she was delighted to see him up and moving around. At least reasonably intact after his recent misadventure.

“Take a seat, Doc.” Grant pushed out the chair next to him. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

“Brunch,” Peggy corrected lightly. She pushed the fruit plate towards Jason. Regardless of what the meal was called, she was glad he was here for it. The more brains working on the problem, the better. “Now, Howard, while you’re drinking that coffee, could you possibly help us stop an evil genius from destroying the world?”

*****

It wasn’t that the assembled group wasn’t more than capable of tackling the issue at hand. But it was possibly the most uncomfortable table Peggy had ever been at. There was no reason she should be uncomfortable. Grant was making a show of how unworried he was. His hand had jerked towards the back of her chair twice, but he hadn’t let it settle there. A testament to his restraint and the lecture Steven must have given him before they left London. Daniel was focused, yet anxious, attention flicking from her, to Grant, to Jason, to Howard, and back again. Jason with his soft, cautious eyes. Howard, obliviously stuffing his face and gushing about his gamma cannon. And yet her cheeks felt flushed, she wasn’t entirely comfortable in her seat, and they still hadn’t actually found a way to arrest Frost.

Not that Howard seemed to pick up on it at all. The only things that distracted him from his beloved gamma cannon once he was on a roll was a brief aside to chastise Peggy for getting rid of the Zero Matter before he could study it — something Peggy was very glad they had done considering what it actually was — and the apparently devastating realization that the mustard pot was empty when he went to make his second sandwich. He howled for Jarvis to bring more between bouts of explanation on the function of gamma radiation. The contrast setting Peggy’s teeth on edge. Which was interesting, but unrelated to the problem at hand. She wanted ideas to arrest Frost, not to revolutionise short range munitions.

She might also want another round of pain killers for her side. The ache was better than the sharp pain, but it was still distracting. Of course, more painkillers would leave her mind fuzzy, which was a problem in and of itself.

Howard was starting to get irritated. Making him wait for his condiments wasn’t like his butler at all. He blamed Peggy. She made Jarvis all excitable. He was probably practicing defusing bombs rather than checking the pantry. “Where the hell is Jarvis with my mustard?”

“Howard, focus.” Peggy was developing a headache. They still needed a reason to arrest Frost that would hold up in court. ‘Sir, she was trying to overthrow the government’ only worked on judges when there was ‘clear’ evidence that the defendant was a communist. And given Whitney Frost’s particular brand of star power, it probably wouldn’t stick for long even with ‘proof.’ They needed something concrete. Hard physical evidence of a tangible crime.

“It’s the principle of the thing, Peggy. You can’t have a good roast beef sandwich without high-quality mustard.” Howard didn’t fly mustard in all the way from France to have a bland sandwich.

“Howard?” Grant prompted again. They were getting off topic.

“Right. What would I do if all my plans had been foiled and my design just wasn’t coming out right.” He took a sip of his water to chase his sandwich. “I’d do what all the best inventors have done for centuries.” He grabbed an olive and swallowed it hastily. He was still starving. He really needed to remember to eat when he was working. “I’d steal from someone smarter.”

Grant nodded. That made sense. Call it unwilling collaboration. If nothing else, it would give her a springboard to work off. “We can see what Oppenheimer is is up to, you know he’ll always take your calls, but I don’t see Frost getting onto the base in Los Alamos. The drive alone.”

“Jason, how would you feel about playing bait?” Peggy was loath to ask him after everything he’d been through. They wouldn’t be able to pull the hologram trick twice. They’d find a way to keep him safe.

“Me!” Howard glared across the table. And they called themselves his friends. “I’d steal from me.”

*****

The gamma cannon was the obvious choice to use as bait. It was new, it was terribly shiny, and given that Stark had invented it to directly solve the problem of Frost being saturated with Zero Matter, it was likely to appeal directly to her needs. Uranium seemed to be a sticking point for her. And she wouldn’t need it if she had the cannon. The cannon generated enough energy all on its own to rival a warhead. At least, it rivalled the energy in a pinpointed area. It wasn’t about to level a city without major modifications, but at the scale of a yard or so, it expended just as much power. And they could ensure it was under significantly lighter guard than any other source of radiation.

It was just a matter of helping her discover that fact.

Which was rather a sticking point. They couldn’t just tell her about it. They’d been messing with and undermining her at every turn. Her guard was up. It needed to feel like her idea. Like a windfall that had come to her without any involvement from them. Like she really was stealing it...

Tuning out the men around her and their wildly impractical schemes — no one was forging a convincing DoD newsletter and leaving it casually ‘lying around’ on a reasonable timeline — Peggy focused on the seed of an idea that was starting to grow. Not a fully-fledged plan, but the start of one. One tiny, seemingly irrelevant grain of fact building on another, a sandcastle starting to form.

Grant fell silent. Eyes locked on Peggy’s face. He’d thought she’d been quiet during their discussion, now he could see why. She had a thought. A good one if it had absorbed her as much as it looked like it had.

The idea was hardly an inkling. A throw away comment Jarvis had made when they’d first needed to steal the fuel rods. About how Stark spies hadn’t been able to find a way past the elevator without the key. Stark spies. Because he had people, men presumably, inside the Roxxon organization. Because that was the smart thing to do. The men who ran Roxxon might not be quite as clever as Howard. But they weren’t idiots either. Which meant, if it was smart, and it was obvious, they’d almost certainly done it too. The whole plan crystalized to a knife edge. There was just one detail she didn’t have.

“Who does Roxxon have working at Stark Industries?” Peggy said it outloud. More to voice the issue than because she expected an easy answer. Although if anyone knew off the top of their head, there was a reasonable bet they were at this table. Jason had been a trusted employee there until everything had gone sideways. Howard’s company was his baby and he kept himself intimately involved in its every facet. And Jarvis was an excellent butler, picking up on all the details Howard didn’t have time for.

Howard shifted, throwing an awkward glance at Jarvis before answering, “I don't know what you mean?”

“Don't be coy,” Peggy snapped. This was the end of the world they were talking about. Howard operating in a legal and moral grey area was the least of her concerns. “Stark Industries has a mole at Roxxon, they’d be fools not to have one of their own with him.”

There was a long pause, then Jarvis cleared his throat. “Doctor Carlton White.”

“That rat!” Howard liked Carlton. His wife sent snickerdoodles if they had to work on Saturdays.

Peggy glared at him. “Howard is going to call him in. Tell him that he wants to talk about onboarding him to a new project that is ramping up. The one his ‘film project’ has been covering.”

The film wasn’t a cover for anything. The film was his baby. “The movie is going to be great. Oscar worthy. It’s going to redefine the genre.”

“I’m not saying it is bad,” Peggy soothed. Howard was proud. She knew to handle him with kid gloves. She had no idea how the movie was going to be. Based on the cast she knew of, it would be very pretty. Based on Howard’s tastes, she assumed rather scantily clad. “I’m saying no one with even a vague knowledge of what happened with Manhattan or Project Rebirth would be surprised to find you’re covering something covert.”

She had him there.

“Don’t confirm anything. Just hint that you’re on to something big. Maybe leave some blueprints laying around. A purchase order shipping necessary supplies to the set.” They didn’t want to make it too obvious that it was a trap. The bait should be irresistible without them having to push too hard. Frost thought she was smarter than all of them. But Peggy had been playing this game far longer.

She could feel the success closing in.

*****

Success was a fleeting thing. Close, and yet out of reach. The plan was solid, but it was just bones. A skeleton that needed flesh if it was going to come to life and dance to her tune. Sunset came and went without enough finalised details for her to feel anything but restless. She was too exhausted to move, her recovery day transformed into one of mental labour. And by eleven, she’d run out of even that.

Stark had invited Doctor White to lunch the next day. Doctor Wilkes had altered the gamma cannon so that it would break after one use, a failsafe if Frost got her hands on it. Daniel had taken steps to regain his position as Section Chief. Grant had started work on forging the reports they’d need. Peggy selected a location for their ambush and Jarvis had started on arrangement to secure it.

It was tempting to work through the night. To stay up all night fretting over details. But really, there was no point. Peggy had done what she could. Now other people had to do their part. The best thing she could do was rest. Go into tomorrow with her mind clear and body full of energy. Peggy hated the very thought. Loathed the idea of the enforced inactivity. Her teeth creaked as she got ready for bed. Jaw gritted as she pulled on her pyjamas. Not because of the sharp pulling sensation in her side when she twisted. Because there was nothing she could do to ensure the plan’s success.

As casually as he could manage, Grant leaned against the door frame. This moment should be special. Precious. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d watched Peggy get ready for the night. Those magical evenings he’d gotten to share with her. He’d missed them with a bone deep ache when he’d thought he’d never have one again.

And this still wasn’t one. It was close. Tantalizingly close, the same way their last shared shower had been close. They weren’t going to fall back in together like nothing had happened. They couldn’t. Too much had happened. Too much was happening. On his side, he was violating the laws of time and space, and if they did have a shot at a future, it would be based on a lie. Not between the two of them. But a lie all the same. But there were layers on her side too. A whole new history that changed the air between them. “So, you and Sousa…”

Peggy bristled. Acidic memories tainting the peace she had been feeling. His jealousy. His insecurity in what they’d had. Kissing Lorraine. Fondue. Sweet words about forever whispered during stolen moments that had come to nothing. She had been so sure he would be happy for her moving on. That he’d want her to be happy. But then, he’d been gone. You couldn’t betray someone who was dead. “You don’t get to be upset. You weren’t here.”

“You’re right,” Grant shrugged. Right now, tonight, he was just some guy she used to step out with. They’d been close. But a lot of people had been close during the war. A lot of people were moving on with their lives like they hadn’t been. “I wasn’t.”

Peggy swallowed around a lump in her throat. Something soft and warm that was smothering her all the same. The hope. The longing. The desolation when that future had evaporated. He’d been gone. She had come to terms with that. And now he was back.

She didn’t have to tell him anything. But she wanted to. A safe and careful distance… She had been so careful to maintain it with most of the people in her life. But never with him. It was why he’d been able to hurt her. And why she could hurt him now. “We almost had something. In New York. Now…” There was no ‘now.’ Not really. There was only the ‘almost’ that they had both run away from. Peggy lowered her gaze. Consciously not meeting Grant’s eyes.

“He’s engaged. He asked Violet a week ago. She’s…” Smart, and pretty, and... Normal. She was perfectly, wonderfully, normal. She’d never get caught up in a deadly conspiracy. Never have to make excuses or deceive her boss so she could investigate. Never spend a week nursing a stab wound in her side because she couldn’t risk taking the time for bed rest. “She’s lovely. A nurse.”

She wasn’t at all surprised when she looked up and Grant was suddenly within an arm’s length. He’d always liked to be close. During their few abortive conversations about their life after the war, he’d preferred to hold her. Wrap her in his arms and show her how he felt as much as tell her.

Grant stroked her cheek. Combed his fingers through her hair. Slid his hand around to cradle the back of her head. Every touch, every look, drowning in reverence and longing. “What idiot would choose someone else when they had you as an option?”

“I’m still mad at you,” Peggy whispered. As much to remind herself as him. The urge to nestle into his chest, let herself be held and loved and safe in a way she hadn’t been in years, overwhelming. It stole the air from her lungs and made her dizzy. She wasn’t safe. None of them were. Frost wouldn’t stop until she retrieved the Zero Matter or died trying. Most likely killing dozens of other people in the process. Maybe even thousands.

And she was still so mad at him. Horribly, distractingly, mad.

“I know.” Grant rested his forehead against hers. He loved her so much. Whatever future they had, or didn’t have, he was glad he’d gotten to see her again. To prove to himself that she really was everything he remembered. “But anyone who doesn’t see how brilliant you are is an absolute fool.”

*****

Peggy slept alone. The luxurious bed too big and too cold. Even with all the blankets wrapped around her, she shivered in the dark. A part of her kept reminding herself that she didn’t have to sleep alone. That if she knocked on Grant’s door, he’d let her in. That he wouldn’t say anything. Just wrap her in his arms and keep her warm through the darkness. Kiss her, if she asked him to. Make her feel good if she asked for that.

She punched a pillow into a more comfortable position. Tucked another one against her back to support her injured side. And closed her eyes. Determined to sleep exactly where she was.

*****

It worked. She was exhausted. Physically and mentally worn out. Not even dreams intruded on her slumbering consciousness. Hours of black oblivion giving her body and mind time to recover at least a little.

The next time she opened her eyes, the sky was starting to lighten outside. A new day. A threat to the world she still had to negate. And what sounded distinctly like Grant below her window, helping Mr. Jarvis to capture the erstwhile flamingo again.

Chapter 32: Lights Camera Trap

It had taken them thirty-six hours to finalise their plan. Assemble the documents they needed, real and forged. Make contact with Doctor White, arrange for a casual lunch that was more than half pantomime. Collect Jack and make the drive out to the film set.

The life-size model of a western town was very nearly perfect as the setting for their trap. Isolated but accessible. It was easy enough to send the crew and actors away for a day or two, so they didn’t have to worry about casualties. The layout of the single street of ever-so-slightly cartoonish buildings would funnel her directly to their target. Clear sightlines all the way to the dramatic ridge that was no doubt why Howard had picked this location.

It was also the second most incongruous location Peggy had used to prepare for a fight in recent days. The storybook version of a cowboy story. Now with the addition of a rather large, futuristic looking cannon half assembled in the middle of the street.

Peggy strode up and down the street. Checking sightlines, approach directions, framing for the camera they intended to have recording everything. She couldn’t find any faults. Any discrepancies from the planned layout. And still the whole thing felt flimsy. Painfully like something they had slapped together in less than forty-eight hours. Which of course, it was. It was far from perfect. Really, Peggy would like to have the cannon set up somewhere where they could have both physical evidence, and respectable eyewitnesses. The lobby of the Tabard Inn at lunch time, for example. Although having the district attorney as a witness might lead to a conflict of interest…. Still preferable to this tenuous opportunity they’d scrapped together.

It wouldn’t take much for all their work to crumble like a sandcastle. If Doctor White didn’t pass on the information they had practically spoon fed him. If that information didn’t make its way to Frost. If she saw through their obfuscation and guessed that it was all a trap. If she even hesitated…

Peggy shook herself out of her catastrophizing. It was all premature. She would deal with the failure of this plan, if this plan failed. In this moment, all she could do was ensure that it wasn’t an error on their part that led to that failure. “How long can that camera record for?”

“Six hours. I’ve been experimenting with ways to reduce the size of the film so you can record for longer without having to switch reels.” Howard was proud of the progress he’d made. So far, the image quality wasn’t quite as good as standard reels. It was clear enough at small scale, but it tended to get fuzzy when projected onto a big screen. Useful for this, not great for his actual film.

“It will have to be enough.” Peggy doubted Frost would wait around once she had the bit between her teeth. Still, it was a narrow window. If Whitney hesitated even a little.... She wouldn’t. She was emotionally unstable and completely single-minded. It was what made her dangerous. And also what made her predictable.

Peggy rather regretted just how much experience she and Grant had with that combination. Howard too, even if he had spent most of the war safe in either London or America. For her next adventure, Peggy wanted nice boring opponents. Ayame had mentioned something about a dragon sleeping in the mountains of Southern China, while they were driving back from London. That sounded nice. She was very tired of all these ‘inventive’ threats.

“Steady, Pegs. We’ve got this,” Grant murmured, low enough that no one else could hear.

And he was right. Peggy straightened, pushing away the grey mood. They did have it. The plan was simple and straight forward. Set the trap. Wait for it to snap. Moping could wait for after they’d saved the world. “Let’s get everything set up. We’ll start the recording last of all. Buy as much time as possible for her to get here.”

The men deferred to Peggy’s direction with varying degrees of grace as she dictated the exact layout of their bait. The angle of the camera was important. They needed to get the entire cannon and surrounding area without the camera being visible during the approach. Ideally, Peggy wanted the prominently displayed ‘no trespassing’ sign in the frame as well. Beyond that, the setup surrounding the cannon needed to feel convincing. If it looked artificial, Frost would pick up on it.

Grant was making an effort not to lift more than a regular person could. Most of the team might be in on his dirty little secret, but Jack wasn’t, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. Jack may have had a change of heart, but knowing that Captain America was alive — along with all the things his blood promised — could change that math. It was a lot of leverage if you knew how to use it. He was also still feeling a little wobbly from whatever it was Frost had done to him. Things felt a lot heavier than they usually did. As if he couldn’t lift much more than he was. Not that he’d be admitting that to any of the others, especially not Peggy. Part of his plan to win her back was consistency. He’d left her adrift, but he was back now. And he was determined to be the rock she needed. A foundation and support she could stand on to achieve the heights he knew she could. Wobbly knees and a back that ached a little were not a part of that plan. They’d get through this, he’d relax for a day to two. It would pass.

He shifted the generator into place. Arranging it next to the work bench Jarvis was artfully littering with tools. Set dressing. Just not for the movie. Convincing dressing at that. The whole area had the same aura the Project Rebirth bunker used to. Like they were on the verge of an earth-shattering breakthrough. Which he supposed in some ways, they were. Howard’s invention had huge potential. Once they were done using it for bait, there were all sorts of other things they could use it for. But that was a later problem.

Grant dusted off his hands. Everything was in place for their trap. They were as prepared as they could ever be. He was reasonably sure he knew what came next. But this wasn’t his show. “What’s next, Pegs?”

“Places, I think.” Peggy resisted the urge to tug his shirt straight and smooth. It was so odd seeing him in civilian clothes. The shirts got rumpled so much more quickly than his uniform ever had. “You’re alright keeping an eye on Howard and Doctor Wilkes?”

“I think between Daniel and I, we can manage.” Grant winked at her. He’d seen that twitch in her hand. The muscle memory of looking after him was still there. Once they finished saving the world, he had a chance at winning her back. All he had to do was not mess it up. “You two going to be alright down here?”

Peggy could understand his reticence. Jack hadn’t particularly endeared himself over the last couple days. Grant didn’t like the way Thompson talked to her. He’d always been defensive when it came to her opinions. He’d told off more than one ranking officer for talking over her during the war, and that passion hadn’t changed. She’d had to kick him under the table to stop him taking her boss to task and slowing them all down.

She agreed it was frustrating. She would have thought she’d proven herself often enough for him to give her the benefit of the doubt. But Jack really was good at his job, and Peggy fully trusted him to back her up when it came time to arrest Frost. “We’ll get the job done.”

*****

The second story of the ‘saloon’ was a strangely liminal space. Barely more than an interior balcony. Stairs and railing rough and unfinished. Unfinished and transitory, lending more weight to the impression of the whole construction being a doll house rather than a real building. Uncanny impressions aside, the view was ideal. Uninterrupted, but just oblique enough that Whitney and any manpower she could bring to bear wouldn’t be able to immediately spot them.

She settled in with her binoculars. Watching for any sign of movement on the horizon. Whitney had a nasty habit of exceeding expectations. Peggy wouldn’t be at all surprised if she arrived uncomfortably early.

Jack leaned back in his chair. Studying the haphazard carpentry on the ceiling rather than the street that would likely be empty for hours yet. If they’d timed everything right, Frost wouldn’t be here until dusk at the earliest. They had time to kill. Time to chat like this was a normal stakeout. “So, your pen pal, calls you by your first name. That’s pretty friendly for you Brits.”

“Grant is American,” Peggy pointed out stiffly. Clearly, she should have waited with Grant and the others. Chest pounding between Grant and Daniel aside, they wouldn’t test her nerves the way Jack seemed determined to.

“You called the good Captain ‘Rogers.’ He was as American as apple pie.” And by all accounts she’d been more than close with Captain Rogers.

Peggy pursed her lips. She called him ‘Rogers’ when she was talking with Jack because he failed to see that her relationship with Steven and her professional success were unrelated. “Thompson, if you’re trying to suss out whether I cheated on Captain America, would you please just come out and say it? My patience for subterfuge is spread rather thin at the moment.”

“Alright.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest. She wanted to be shocked. He could shock. “Did you fuck around behind Rogers’ back?”

“Captain Rogers was aware of every aspect of my relationship with Grant, and he would be the first person to say it never went beyond the bounds of propriety,” Peggy answered with prim dignity. That was exactly why she had made a point of calling Steve ‘Captain Rogers’ when speaking to Thompson. She knew Jack had had more than one girlfriend during the war. He’d bragged about having woman in every port as well as his college girlfriend waiting at home. But the mere suggestion that she might have had a pen pal other than her official suitor was scandalous.

And if she didn’t need to keep Thompson on their side for this to work, she’d tell him as much. But she did. To keep not just Grant, but the whole universe safe, she needed to keep his new identity intact. Which meant soothing Thompson’s ego and alleviating his suspicions. “Grant and I use Christian names with each other, because we were quite good friends for a time, and because we both share the surname ‘Carter’ which made things rather confusing in the field. Steve knew. He and Grant were friends. The reason Grant and I were pen pals at all was Steve never had time to write himself. I think….” Peggy swallowed. This was the part that would really sell it. Assuming her delivery was up to the task. “I think Grant would have been an usher at our wedding if Steve had made it.”

“Oh…” Jack trailed off. He wasn’t sure what answer he’d expected, but not that. He was pretty sure Grant had been with the Howling Commandos when he’d tried to bring Peggy to heel that first day at Stark’s poolside. Now that he was thinking about it, they probably wouldn’t be comfortable around a guy who was stealing their captain’s girl. But if they were friends, good friends even, that would explain a lot. “I’m sorry, Peggy. That’s….”

“Not something I particularly enjoy talking about,” Peggy said stiffly. For a variety of reasons. Not the least of which was they were making this up as they went, and she’d prefer not to improvise too much without at least warning Grant. “Now, is that movement on the left, or just heat haze?”

*****

Grant didn’t bother with binoculars. When things started to happen in the basin below, they’d be visible with the naked eye. Not that there was anything to see yet. It looked almost peaceful. Sun glinting off the gamma cannon, a soft breeze moving clouds lazily across the sky.

Next to him, Daniel ran through the timeline of what all ‘their’ unit had done during the war. Nothing out of the ordinary. Grant had visited most of the cities himself, if at different times. He knew what life in a standard unit was like. He’d done basic, joined drill, and taken his own share of watches when they were in camp. As long as he had the order of events straight in his head, he’d be fine.

Daniel broke off. Aware that Grant hadn’t actually said anything in almost five minutes. “Should you be taking notes?”

No. Notes were evidence. Grant had rarely written down anything as incriminating as notes for himself even before the serum had made it so everything seared itself indelibly into his brain. Lists, sure. But mainly for the cathartic feeling of crossing things off them. “Land in Normandy. Held the beachhead for four days. Joined the advance on Rouen. No problems taking the city, at least nothing unusual. Hard march to Amiens to meet up with the 57th tank brigade. Crossed the border into Belgium at Hensies. Cross-country push to Charleroi. Some fighting but nothing like what the guys trying to take Brussels saw. Your words, not mine. I thought it was plenty hot. Orders were to cut south-southeast to help cut off the 5th Hydra tank division. Went pretty well right up until we got into the city at Bastogne. At which point we realized why it had felt easy. Hydra always loved a trap. What did I miss?”

Daniel’s jaw twitched. Nothing. He’d gotten the whole damn thing right and in order. Hadn’t even slowed down to remember the exact divisions. “That’s infuriating.”

“It’s cuter when Pegs does it,” Grant shrugged. He loved when she did it.

Daniel glanced back over his shoulder. Wilkes and Howard were both tucked safely into the truck. Poring over a clipboard. Not about to overhear his prying. “You came back for her?”

“She’s one of the reasons.” And Grant really didn’t want to get into the other ones. Too much risk in sharing the other secrets with more people than necessary.

Daniel nodded. So not the only reason. He might care about Peggy, but she wasn’t more important to him than whatever had kept him away. “You going to marry her?”

Grant’s jaw twitched. Yes. He had every intention of seeing Peggy walk down the aisle. Had for years. He just had to wait. It was all about faith. “It’s not up to me.”

That’s right. Daniel shifted his grip on his crutch. It wasn’t. It was up to Peggy. Stubborn, independent Peggy. Who wouldn’t be blinded by a pair of broad shoulders and an ‘innocent’ smile. She’d make the right choice. Not the one everyone expected her to.

*****

Peggy liked to think she was good at waiting. It was what she had done for so much of her life. Bite her tongue, sit still, and wait for her opening. And yet it was starting to wear on her today. Jack was walking on eggshells after she’d so efficiently smacked his hands for prying at her past, leaving the conversation stilted and awkward. And there was no guarantee that Frost would even show up. Their bait was good. But it relied on her hearing about it at all. Which wasn’t at all certain. She might decide not to come today. Or Doctor White might have decided to not tell her, or at least wait to tell her. Or a thousand other things that might lead to Frost either being delayed or not coming at all.

It was entirely possible Peggy had spent the last two hours trying not to snap at Thompson for looking at her like she was made of glass. Even if Grant did represent a lost future, it was one that had been lost years ago. She wasn’t about to come over all delicate being reminded of it now. They were in the middle of something. She could hold herself together until they were done. She always had before.

And she wasn’t going to remind him of that little fact just now. They were going to arrest Frost. Peggy hadn’t been fired. And his prying about Grant aside, he was being a good sport about everything.

Finally, she spotted what she’d been waiting for. A plume of tawny dust rising against the blue of the sky. Peggy let out the breath she’d been holding as a flatbed truck and the same car from their last trap rounded the corner, Whitney Frost’s distinctive bright blonde hair visible in the front seat.

Peggy’s heart beat loud in her ears as Frost stepped out of the car. Loud, but steady. The taste of victory filled her mouth. She watched Whitney move slowly deeper into the film set. Lean over the makeshift desk and its forged notes.

And step neatly into their trap. Running her hands all over the gamma cannon, directing the men as to how to disconnect the cables. Clearly in charge as they arranged the cannon on the back of the truck. And if Peggy wasn’t wrong, demonstrating her natural talent and ensuring the camera got nice long shots of her performance.

Peggy couldn’t have choreographed it better. “Get the spike strip ready.”

*****

Not for the first time in his life, Grant watched helplessly as Peggy charged into danger. There was only one road in and out of the film set. If they could cut it off, Frost and her muscle would have to choose between coming quietly and walking into the desert. He supposed, they could try to fight their way out. But they’d come expecting to find the place deserted, and none of them looked heavily armed from where he was standing. They also hadn’t spotted Peggy or Jack as they made their way around the end of the buildings and laid out the latticework of metal strips that would cut off Frost’s retreat. Grant could see Peggy’s shotgun slung across her back. Almost a comfort as she squared up in the middle of the road and announced her presence.

It got the reaction they were looking for.

Grant could just make out the sound of yelling carried on the wind. Manfredi and his men less than pleased at finding themselves tricked again. The truck gunned straight for Peggy. Driver enraged.

Peggy dove out of the way. Rolling into the shelter of the last building in the row. She’d been bait more than really in danger. Something to draw their attention and keep them from noticing the waiting spikes.

Tires popped with a bang and a hiss. The truck skidded out of control. The car too close behind it to avoid getting caught up too, if less violently.

Frost and her men tumbled out of the vehicles. Panicked rather than prepared. Grant would have thought that they’d be ready for anything at this point. But maybe he was just used to more prepared villains. Frost was smart, but she was also new to this, and Manfredi wasn’t exactly cream of the crop. It showed now. They were scrambling. Looking for an out that wasn’t there.

He could see Peggy had them. Shotgun aimed squarely at Frost and Manfredi. Shoulders square and proud. He couldn’t make out what she was saying from this distance, but he could imagine it. The confidence in her voice as she announced that they were under arrest.

The tableau felt final. Like they’d finally put out the last embers of Frost’s plans. It would be the lawyers’ problem from here on out. Not an easy fight. But not their fight either.

*****

Grant hung back as they regrouped with their triumphant team members. All the reasons they had for him avoiding Frost still held true. They’d neutralized the threat of her flattening a sizable area of the state, not her innate genius. As much as he wanted to sweep Peggy off her feet, praise her for pulling off her brilliant plan, they were still in limbo, and the risk of Frost figuring out who he was hadn’t gone anywhere. So, he stayed in the car. Trying not to fidget as Daniel helped Jack and Peggy get everyone handcuffed and loaded into the van and Howard bounced around making a show of how outraged he was.

He tapped a hand against the steering wheel. He hated this. Was this what he’d signed up for? Watching while other people did the hard work? Sitting around like a useless stuffed shirt?

“She’s amazing,” Jason said from the back seat. Eyes fixed on Peggy as she directed the whole operation. As stern and composed as any general.

“Yeah.” Grant softened. It wasn’t all bad. He’d always said Peggy was the best member of his team. He’d just have to find something to keep himself busy while she worked her magic. “She is.”

Chapter 33: Friends

Peggy folded another blouse and settled it neatly into her suitcase. It was time to go home, but she had absolutely no idea what to do once she got there. Thanks to Masters’ untimely demise and Thompson’s change of heart, she still had her job. Not that she had anything to do at that job. Just push papers around and be bored. Which was better than being out in the cold she supposed, but still less than ideal. Even if Thompson did come around and start treating her like a real agent now, none of the other agents were likely to pick it up. This little ‘vacation’ had reminded her just how good at this she really was. She didn’t want to go back to the way things had been back in New York, but she didn’t want to stay here purposeless and reliant on Howard’s charity either.

Maybe Ayame and her husbands would have more mysterious life advice. Cryptic clues for how to feel less directionless... Running her own agency? Impossible. At least in the short term. Peggy would just have to find that purpose herself. Colonel Phillips might take her back. Find her field work, the way he had for the other Commandos. She didn’t love the subterfuge, but she was good at it. And it would be productive.

“Packing?” Grant asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door frame.

“There’s a flight in the morning, and I’ve run out of vacation days,” Peggy answered with a smile. The latter wasn’t strictly true. She still had a few days she could wrangle. But things here felt... settled. As if her escape here had served its purpose. She felt truly awake for the first time in years. Ready to act, rather than react.

Grant nodded. These last few days had been surreal. Getting back to ‘normal’ sounded like a great idea. “It’ll be weird watching you fly away for a change.”

“Oh.” Peggy had rather thought they’d be flying away together. An assumption on her part admittedly, and she had even less idea what he would do during the next few weeks than what she would do. Still, when she pictured this particular flight to New York, she’d pictured him reading in the seat next to hers the way he so painfully hadn’t been the last time she’d flown into that city. “You’re staying?”

“For a few days,” Grant answered with a shrug. He gave up on keeping proper distance. Moving slowly across the room to her. Drawn as inexorably as magnets. “I haven't been living up to my end of our deal.”

“Oh?” Peggy breathed the word again. Slightly overwhelmed by the warmth of him not quite pressed against her back.

“I haven’t been giving you the space I promised.” Wasn’t giving it to her now either really. His fingertips traced hers. Not taking her hand. Not pulling her into his arms. But not not touching her either. “It’s been weeks for me. Less time than we used to spend apart when I was in the field. But you’ve been living with it for years. I need to remember that. I’m gonna take the train back to New York. Take some photos on the way. Build my cover.” He trailed his fingers up her arm. Space was going to take practice. Torturous, torturous practice. “I’ll find an apartment when I’m back. Somewhere other than Brooklyn. Ayame seems to think I should stay away from the old neighbourhood.”

“I’m living Uptown.” Peggy whispered the information. It felt important that he knew. She would need to find a place of her own sooner rather than later, but for now, she had a guest room nearly as generous as the one she was leaving waiting for her.

“The Village, then. Or Queens.” Grant didn't kiss the back of her neck. He was pretty proud of that restraint. Maybe he really could do this ‘just friends’ thing. “Put a few subway stops between us.”

“We'll have lunch,” Peggy promised herself as much as him. She did want the space. She wanted to get her feet back under her before she made any rash decisions. But she did want him in her life. Whatever Ayame and her husbands had planned, she was sure he was involved, but that was more work than pleasure. And she had missed her best friend these last few years.

“Standing lunch,” Grant agreed. He wanted to give her space. Not let her forget about him. “Every Wednesday.”

Peggy turned. So close to him that their fronts almost pressed together. If she leaned forward, she could rest her cheek against his heart. Hear the rhythm she had missed so much. It was Thursday now. A week between now and Wednesday. And Grant was planning to take the train. “Will you be back by Wednesday?”

Grant gazed deep into those amazing hazel eyes. Flecks of gold and green shining in the depths of her irises. “Say the word and I’ll be back whenever you want me.”

“Neither of us is very good at this,” Peggy breathed. Because in this moment, she wanted to tell him to come back with her now. Stay at Howard’s with her the same way they’d been staying here together. Only without the separate bedrooms. Let them live in sin until she came to her decision. Even if having him in her bed would all but make the decision.

“We’ll practice,” Grant assured her. Not that he particularly minded being bad at it. Ultimately, he wanted to fail miserably at just being friends. He wanted to rebuild their friendship, then build the life together that had been stolen from them on top of it. “I’ll meet you Wednesday, and we can try again over lunch. I won’t share my egg cream or anything.”

The hot tension in Peggy’s chest broke. Replaced by playful bubbles. Trust him to protect her from her greedier impulses. And to tease her with her vices. “I love an egg cream.”

“Too bad.” God, Grant wanted to bite that plush lower lip of hers. Share more than just a frothy chocolate drink. Not thoughts he should be having if they were just friends. “And I’m not paying either. We’re friends. We’re going Dutch.”

“Well in that case, call it next Wednesday. I’ve been out of the office for absolute ages. I’m sure my inbox will be murder. I’ll probably be stuck eating at my desk all week.”

He kissed her cheek. Yup. He was terrible at this. Hopefully it wasn’t a skill he needed to master for long. “I’ll always wait for you, doll.”

*****

Before Peggy could fly away and get started on her search for normalcy, there was the undying bureaucracy monster to feed. She had enjoyed working off the books the last couple of weeks rather than having to fill in forms every twenty minutes. Regrettably, she understood the need for a paper trail. Especially when it came to something as high profile as the Frost incident would be once it hit the press. The last thing she wanted were un-dotted ‘I’s and un-crossed ‘T’s to be the reason Whitney got another shot at world domination.

Thankfully, they had Rose to tidy up all their loose ends. She had typed Daniel and Peggy’s scattered notes into a nice clean, official report that hardly mentioned treason at all. All Peggy had to do was sign both the report and a selection of backdated orders.

Daniel passed her the last report he needed her to sign. They’d been quieter than usual today. No real small talk, just the work. She’d mentioned that she was leaving, but only in passing. Even now that they were wrapping up, she seemed… closed off. “When is your flight?”

“An hour. Grant is outside with the car,” Peggy said, signing the last page and capping her pen. He’d drive her to the airport, then head back to Howard’s for the night. His train would leave Monday, and he’d promised to send her postcards along the way. What she really wanted to see were his photos, but those would have to wait until he got settled in New York and could find a darkroom.

Of course he was. Carefully, Daniel tapped the papers into a neat stack. That was it for official business. So why did things between him and Peggy still feel so unfinished? “So you and Grant are…”

“We’re complicated,” Peggy answered honestly. “You don’t have to worry about my beating you to the altar if that’s the concern.”

“No. I—” Daniel didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling. The wedding was the farthest thing from his mind right now. He loved Violet. He did. But she was… And Peggy was… And he couldn’t make any of it come together in a way that made sense.

He grabbed Peggy by the back of her neck. Dragging her in for a rough and desperate kiss. All the things and feelings he’d been struggling with for years, put into a single action.

“Don’t go with him. Stay here with me,” Daniel whispered into the air between them. She had been so vibrant before that man had shown up. Apparently back from the dead and refusing to explain anything. After, she’d been snappish and irritable. Stiff anytime they had a moment to sit together.

Peggy jerked away from him in shock. Not even noticing when she jarred her side. “You’re engaged!”

“Violet is great. But she’s not you. Peggy—you have to see.” They were good together. Or they could be. They’d been so close. They’d just never quite clicked. Something had been standing in their way. Someone. “He shows up after years in the wind, new identity, insane violent friends, and you’re just going to follow him back to New York?”

“Not that it matters one way or the other—” Peggy’s choices were her own, and no man, Daniel or Grant, got to tell her how to make them. She accepted that Daniel thought the worst of Grant. He didn’t know why Grant had been away for so long, or why he couldn’t come back as himself. But even if he had been back as himself, it wouldn’t have changed her mind. “—but I’m not going back with him. Let alone for him. I’m going back alone and for myself.”

She was rather glad that Grant’s insistence on giving her space to figure out where she stood in her recently overturned world made that statement true. They really did need time. She didn’t want to just fall back in with him because it was easy and comfortable. She wanted to find her own way into the future.

Daniel froze. Relieved and devastated at the same time. “You’re not—”

They weren’t. Through mutual agreement, they were taking their time. He was giving her space. “Grant is staying here while I fly back to New York. We aren’t together. He isn’t changing my decision.”

Peggy might not be in a relationship. But she wasn’t the only one involved in this disaster of a kiss. A kiss that might not have been such a disaster if it had come two weeks ago. “I respect Violet. So, I won’t tell her this happened. But if you really love her, you will think long and hard about why it did.”

*****

“You alright?” Grant studied Peggy in the rear-view mirror. Avoiding looking directly at her so she didn’t feel pinned down. She’d gone into the office bright and determined, and come out shaken and withdrawn. Something had happened, but he couldn’t even guess at what.

“I’m fine.” She was confused. Off centre and adrift. Her good mood from this morning evaporated in a moment. “Just tired.”

Grant rubbed her knee affectionately. It had been a long week, and she was still hurt. She had every right to be tired. “Try and sleep on the plane.”

She wouldn’t. It would be loud and the vibrations from the engine would rattle her bones. She’d hoped to relax, maybe read one of the magazines she’d been meaning to get to.

Peggy slumped over until her head was resting on Grant’s shoulder. Watching the world flash by outside the windshield. It had been a very long week. And if she’d been asked at breakfast, she would have said a good one. Now everything felt more complicated.

Violet was wonderful. All delicate smiles and bright eyes. Intelligent, sweet, with a respectable normal job that wouldn’t leave her with a gut wound. Daniel had seemed so devoted to making her smile and laugh. He’d seemed so proud the day after he’d asked her to marry him. So happy.

And still, he’d kissed Peggy. Asked her to leave her life and stay with him. Not even offered to go away and start a new life with her. Asked her to stay here where all his friends knew and liked Violet. To basically parade their new ‘better’ relationship in front of her. Just the idea made Peggy sick. She would hate to be betrayed like that. “Grant...”

He stayed still, his hand still protectively in her lap. Waiting for her to finish her thought. Something had shaken her, and whatever it was, he was here.

“Would you...” Peggy didn’t know how to word her question. Not without giving away her new dirty little secret. She had promised she wouldn’t tell Violet. Telling Grant at this juncture felt like a similar betrayal of trust. Especially when Grant and Daniel already butted heads so often. But she needed to know. “Would you ever kiss someone else?”

“You want to see other people?” Grant scratched his beard to stop his jaw clenching the way it wanted to. It wasn’t a huge stretch. If they were just friends, there was no reason she shouldn’t date other guys. He and Steve had specifically talked about his being possessive. This was exactly the space he’d promised to give her. Peggy wanted to be sure she was making the right choice. That meant exploring options. “I bet Jason would be interested. He seems nice. Smart enough to keep up with you at least.” Daniel probably would be too, but he had that fiancée Peggy was so defensive of.

“No—” That wasn’t what she’d been trying to say. Did she want that? He was right about Jason. And the drink they had shared had been rather nice. At least before the shooting had started. If he hadn’t come back, she wouldn’t have hesitated. “Maybe? I...” She sighed, deflating back to her side of the car. He had come back. And she wasn’t at all sure she liked the idea of him dating anyone else. Even if she wasn’t ready to date him herself. “Sorry. I’m rather out of sorts today.”

“It’s alright, Pegs.” Grant squeezed her knee. “It’s been a weird week. You don’t have to have it all figured out. We’ve got time.”

Notes:

I hate to leave you all, But I'm going to be taking November off while I work on NaNoWriMo. Back with you in December. 😘

Chapter 34: Post War Reconstruction

The flight was exactly as miserable as she’d expected. Long, and loud. The vibrations making her gut ache. Her seat partner had been chatty in the most inane way. His chatter adding to her growing headache. She’d smiled, nodded, and pretended to fall asleep once they were off the tarmac. Only pretended to sleep. Regrettably, she’d been right, for all Grant’s encouragement, she hadn’t been able to really rest. And thanks to the pantomime necessary to stop her uninvited traveling companion from talking her ear off, she hadn’t been able to read her magazine either. All she’d been able to do was sit in her whirling thoughts.

Getting a taxi had been uniquely frustrating. The driver had tried to scam her on the fare. As if she hadn’t lived in the city for years. She knew what the rate should be. It had just been another argument she hadn’t needed, and it had meant she had to carry her suitcase inside herself, much to her side’s discomfort.

She let herself out of the elevator and into Howard’s apartment. Reminded once again that she needed to start looking for a place of her own sooner rather than later. Somewhere she didn’t have to feel bad tossing all her things on the floor or putting her feet on the furniture.

“English!” A sunshine bright voice sounded across the foyer. A curly head of hair bounding across the hall.

And just like that, Peggy felt like she was home. Pain and exhaustion both easing in the face of her friend’s exuberance. “Angie, darling. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you.”

Angie squeezed her in a tight hug. “You have a good vacation?”

“Lovely.” Peggy shoved her suitcase out of the way. She wasn’t going to lie to herself, it wasn’t getting unpacked tonight. “Caught up with some old friends, got some sun, came back practically a new woman.”

Linking their arms, Angie led Peggy through to the living room. “Meet any Hollywood stars? Big shot directors looking for their next star?”

“A couple,” Peggy laughed. She might not be able to tell her friend the whole truth, but there was no reason to lie about everything. “Honestly, darling they were all insufferable. I think you’re better suited to the stage. More scope for artistic range.”

“Maybe, I don’t know if the directors here really see my brilliance either.” Angie dropped dramatically onto the couch. “Bunch of letters for you.” Angie waved her hand at the basket on the end table. A handful of envelopes that had arrived during Peggy’s time away waiting for her.

Peggy discarded the first after a brief perusal. Her mother, questioning why she insisted on the unladylike privations of being a working woman in a foreign country when she could simply come home. According to her mother’s dearest friend and the mother of Peggy’s unlamented former fiancé, Fred was newly settled into a very respectable post-war position at the war office and was back to searching for a wife. All she needed to do was apologise for her hysterics and he would take her back. The least tempting proposition she had ever heard, and she had been asked to be a home wrecker less than twenty-four hours ago. The second was an old school friend writing to let her know that she was engaged. Happy news that plucked at some particularly tender nerves in Peggy’s chest.

The last was a more unusual specimen. Thick creamy paper pressed to silky finish. It had been addressed in an unfamiliar hand. Elegant flowing lines that almost looked like they’d been written with a brush. The ink perfectly jet black and sunken deep into the fibres of the paper. The postmark was New York, so it hadn’t travelled far.

Dear Ms. Carter,

It was lovely to see you in Los Angeles. I know my husband was overjoyed to have a chance to catch up after so long.

I'm sure you’re terribly busy having been away, but if you’re free next Tuesday, we’d love it if you could join us for dinner. My husband had some thoughts on independent telecommunications infrastructure he wanted to run by an expert. Around seven in the evening?

Delighted to see you again,

Mrs. J S Winters

Well, that was interesting. Steve had made some oblique references to ‘an intelligence agency of her own’ when they were in London. But she had assumed he was teasing her, or that it was more of a long-term plan. That someday, she’d manage to claw her way into the directorship of one of the smaller field offices. Cleveland, or maybe Seattle. Bringing it up now made it feel more immediate. Like she wouldn’t have to wait forever to find a place in the sun. …Or at least as if Steve knew she was chafing at even the idea of returning to the status quo and wanted to give her hope.

Would that count as an agency of her own? Steve was precise in his language. Surely, he would have worded it differently if he were only thinking of her becoming a section chief. But if that wasn’t her destiny... the alternative was absurd. No one would give her an independent agency. For all the same reasons she was dreading returning to her current role. She was a woman. She was strong-headed. Too willful by far to follow direction.

And yet there it was, in black and white. The implication of autonomy.

“English?” Angie waved her hand in Peggy’s face. “You there?”

“Sorry, Angie.” Peggy dragged herself back into the moment. Her friend had been talking while she’d been speculating. Bright happy words, Peggy hadn’t caught the meaning, but she’d picked up on tone. Something good was happening in Angie’s life. “I’m wool gathering. What were you saying?”

“I was saying I got the part. You’re looking at Broadway’s new Annie Oakley. Well, her understudy, but the lead actress has a weak constitution. I can see it. So, the part is as good as mine.”

“Oh Angie, that’s wonderful.” Peggy set the note aside. She’d write back later to let them know she would be there. “Tell me everything.”

*****

Peggy took one day for herself. To fetch groceries, deal with all her correspondence, look at her laundry and decide she didn’t want to deal with it, and lay on the couch and not move for several hours while she pretended her half-healed side wasn’t throbbing with pain. Not infection though. She hated to admit it, but Steve had been right, the antibiotics his wife had found for her had helped. She ran lines with Angie, took a long shower, went to bed early with the intention of being well-rested for her first day back in the office.

Her arrival was anticlimactic. She’d been welcomed warmly enough by the women in the phone company office downstairs. Then she’d dragged herself up to the office, and no one had cared at all. Only a handful of agents had even looked up from their desks. Her desk sat in the back corner, the inbox full, the rest of it desolate and depressing. Peggy was conscious of the scarred wood and stained blotter, the flickering lightbulb above, and the fact she’d be all but chained to it for the foreseeable future. Not just because of the overflowing inbox that would take ages to clear. Because women, even ones that were highly decorated and had proven themselves more than capable, didn’t do field work. They didn’t spearhead investigations or oversee field teams either. They typed up reports and flagged things that might require further investigation. Secretarial work. That was her lot. No matter whatever overly optimistic thoughts a man who lived a century in the future had.

Peggy dropped her handbag into a desk drawer. She needed a mug of strong coffee. That would pick her up. And really. Secretarial work inside the SSR was more interesting than anything she could do outside the organization. She’d known on some level that she’d spend most of her life bored since she was fifteen. There had just been a brief blip where the world had gone mad enough that she’d been able to spread her wings.

“Carter.” Thompson beckoned from his office door. Expression stern and serious.

Peggy repressed a sigh. Nothing for it, she had to report. If nothing else, Jack had to catch her up from her weeks away. Even if he had been out of the office for much of that time himself. Peggy plastered a determined look on her face and strode confidently across the office.

Jack shut the door behind Peggy, and felt himself deflate. He had the blinds drawn, cutting his office off from the bullpen outside. Granting them a little privacy for the conversation that was going to be very different from the one everyone would be expecting him to have after Peggy’s extended leave. “What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Peggy wasn’t even sure there was a ‘we’ now that Frost was taken care of and Masters’ body had been returned to his family. Not in a conspiratorial sense. Professionally, she rather thought they’d turned a corner. That he might finally understand why she did things the way she did. But it didn’t follow that they had anything more personal than that.

“I mean what are we going to do?” Because Frost had been the tip of the iceberg. A symptom not the disease. He’d flown out before her, and spent yesterday working while she’d been getting her hair reset or whatever it was that had kept her away. He’d put some things together. Pieces he’d had for years that fit too well. Hydra hadn’t been his fight, he’d been in a different theatre. But he knew the stories. And now that he knew what he was looking for, he saw the similarities everywhere. “They’ve got their fingers in everything. Masters and his friends weren’t the only ones, and they aren’t even all dead. They’re already calling me. Trying to feel out what happened and if I’m on their side. I don’t know what they want from me, but I—I don’t think I can be who they want me to be anymore.”

“Thompson.” Peggy cut him off before he could spiral into dread. “We’ll do the same thing we were doing before. We’ll fight the good fight and keep the ship as close to straight as we can.”

It sounded so good when she said it like that. Simple. As if all he had to do was make the decision and everything would work out. There was more to it than that and he knew it. These people weren’t just powerful, they were his family. The people who had raised him. And now they expected him to be the man they had raised him to be. …And he wasn’t sure he could anymore. He’d opened his eyes. He didn’t want what they wanted. The future they were pushing for was one of control. The one Peggy had been fighting for all along was real freedom. He just had no idea how to make her vision come true and not theirs. “What are we going to do?”

Yes, she supposed he wasn’t Steve. Able to take gentle encouragement and turn it into a strategy that could shape an entire war. Jack certainly wasn’t alone in that. Most men needed more hand-holding than Steven did. “We’re going to stop them. How exactly will depend on what they want you to do. But whatever it is, we’ll stop them. And we’ll make sure the world is as free as it can be. Because that’s the oath we swore.”

*****

A postcard from Nevada arrived in the evening post. A bright rectangle greeting Peggy when she checked the box on her way up to the apartment after work. The picture a glossy image of mountains. She flipped it over to find a hand she knew almost as well as her own. Bold thick lines scrawled slightly faster than the fountain pen could manage. It’s appearance tonight causing a very different surprise than it had the last time it had surprised her.

Peggy,

Someone needs to make film that captures true colour, black and white doesn’t do the mountains anything like justice. Excited to tell you all about them Wednesday.

Yours,

G. Carter

She appreciated that he hadn’t signed it with a kiss. Of course, he’d never signed his war letters with a kiss either. Leaving the affection implied lest anyone accuse him of having clouded judgment where she was concerned. Its absence now felt similarly calculated. A deliberate attempt to keep his promise and not presume they were more than friends. Likewise, his using his new surname in the salutation was a little nudge that he still wanted them to be. She liked the way he formed the C. Full of confidence.

It was possible she was reading too much into a note of barely a paragraph.

She stroked her thumb over the upside-down stamp. No. Grant was sending her a message. One of consistency and patience. He knew his mind without her having to lay everything out for him.

*****

She arrived home from her second day back at work, exhausted, frustrated, more than ready to murder the next man who had the gall to ask her to fetch them coffee. Thompson has snapped at two of them to get their own coffee, but his primary method of demonstrating his support for her was presenting her with more work. Work she could do, but not entirely ideal given that her inbox had been unpleasantly full before the ‘show of confidence’ added a sizable investigation.

There was another postcard waiting for her. A bridge over a wide lake. The Great Salt Lake if the caption on the card was to be believed. The postmark was Ogden. The stamp upside-down again. A smile crept over her face as she read the bold scrawl on the back. Irritation of the day falling away.

Peggy,

Not what I was expecting from reading a Study in Scarlet. There’s a quality to the water. Something about the way the light reflects. Picture isn’t bad, but it doesn’t quite catch it. I think I can do better. Took half a roll of film, so we’ll see. Hope you’re ready to go through ten nearly identical shots once I get them developed.

Yours,

G. Carter

She wasn’t imagining things. Grant was making the effort to be her friend first and suitor second.

And still, he signed it as yours. Not with love. Not with any of the thousand beautiful words she was sure the loquacious man she knew could summon to try to convince her of his sincerity. But with a simple genuine confidence that left a settled feeling in its wake.

*****

A third day of work that consisted primarily of sorting through and discarding intelligence that had been too old to be actionable before she’d taken the better part of a month away, did little to dampen Peggy’s pleasure at receiving another postcard.

Today’s card read ‘Green River,’ the picture featuring a placid river winding across a grassy field. Unremarkable, if not for the sheer cliffs of red rock thrusting sharply up from the other side of the plain. She turned the card over.

Peggy,

Absolutely wild landscapes. They don’t even look real.

Delayed by a rockslide coming out of the Badlands.

Next train about to leave. No time to write.

G. Carter

Peggy had the distinct impression that the postcard had been written leaning against the post-box. The words a hasty scrawl she recognised from field notes. But there it was. The upside-down stamp. He’d taken the time to send his little message even in the mad rush to make his train.

*****

There was no post on Sundays. A fact Peggy was normally indifferent to, and today, found rather sad. Three colourful pictures kept her company as she finally got around to folding the laundry she’d been ignoring. Friendly little rectangles tucked into the side of her mirror, right next to her pilfered photo of the man who had sent them.

They continued to illuminate her space, three tiny suns, as she pored through the work she’d brought home with her. Her dressing table serving as a makeshift desk. Far cozier than her desk in the SSR offices.

*****

The next card arrived with the morning post rather than the afternoon. Peggy saw the corner of it tucked into the fold of her Harper’s magazine. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it was another record of Grant’s journey. Sent from closer and taking less time to arrive. He wasn’t dawdling, but he wasn’t racing the mail train either. She hoped that meant he was taking rolls and rolls of photos.

Not a landscape this time, but a picture of a sleek modern locomotive. A shining machine that looked as if it could move the world. On the back, the upside-down stamp bore a post mark from Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Peggy,

Thought you’d like this more than pictures of corn. Not much to see from the train here. Probably have to come back and spend some time to find the really good shots. Show them how to show the place off. Make some postcards that will actually sell.

Yours,

G. Carter

Peggy determined to take the card to work with her. There was no reason she couldn’t have the pretty innocuous picture decorating her desk. A little something to brighten the space. The men all had personal effects, no reason she couldn’t have one or two.

*****

Peggy waited until after work to check the mail the next day. Saving any surprises as a treat for a job well done. And it had been a job well done. She’d cleared everything from before she’d gone away off her desk and made a substantial start on the case Thompson had assigned to her. It was a relatively simple thing. An overly enthusiastic inventor who thought he could recreate Hydra’s weapons. Without the Tesseract, the most he could manage was a pale imitation. All she had to do was locate his laboratory, and there were a limited number of places it could be, given what the activities involved. Then she’d requisition a team to go in and arrest him. Given the mood Thomson was in, she might even get to lead the team herself rather than being left behind to stew.

A dramatic city skyline. Tall, elegant buildings living up to their name and scraping the clouds. Chicago. At least if the ‘Windy City’ caption was to be believed. She flipped it over to find a now familiar upside-down stamp and the shortest message yet.

Not bad, but I’ve seen better.

See you soon,

G. Carter

Peggy smiled, adding the card to her mirror along with the others. Dinner tonight with the Rogerses, lunch tomorrow with Grant, her inbox finally empty. Really, her week wouldn’t be bad at all.

Chapter 35: Welcome Home

Steve woke slowly. Nothing about the world around him signalling time for wakefulness. Here, they didn’t have windows to the outside. No sun to rouse him. Nothing to worry about and nowhere to be but here with his people.

He let his head roll so he could see the other side of the bed. A passive action more than a deliberate move.

And found the most beautiful sight he could imagine. For that matter, it was one he had imagined on more than a few mornings. Today it was real. Bucky’s head pillowed on his arm. Amy pillowed on Bucky’s chest in turn. Both softly sleeping. Two sets of long lashes resting peacefully against cheeks.

His personal version of heaven.

Limb still heavy with sleep, Steve reached across to stroke Amy’s cheek. Rubbing his thumb over that perfect softness. Amy’s lashes fluttered for a moment before she blinked at him sleepily. Eyes as stunningly violet as always, but now without the icy shards of loss that had darkened them for so long.

Steve’s heart swelled with the same easy, unshadowed love. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Stevie.” Bucky didn’t bother opening his eyes. He didn’t need to. He knew what his guy was doing. “There a reason you’re waking my girl up before her alarm?”

A laugh bubbled out of Ayame’s chest. How long had it been since she’d slept to an alarm? The kids had never let her sleep late enough, and when she and Steve had time alone together, he always insisted she wake up as naturally as possible. Or woke her up himself, freshly back from his run and ready to help her with her own form of morning workout. Time together more precious than her preferred sleep schedule.

And now her Bucky was back, and he was defending her sleep as vehemently as he ever had.

“She was already awake,” Steve argued. Curling the arm Bucky was pillowed on to jostle them both closer. Tumbling Ayame into the space between him and Bucky in the process. Something he could only have managed with such little effort if that was where she wanted to be.

“No, I wasn’t,” Ayame grumbled. Snuggling her way deeper into the safety of her boys. And she hadn’t been. Not really. She’d just been…. at peace. Soaking in the moment.

“See?” Bucky kissed the back of Ayame’s neck. Taking advantage of her wakefulness to shower her with affection. He wasn’t the one who had disturbed his little Fox, but now that she was awake, he might as well make it worth her while.

Steve jostled Bucky. The rough housing that had always been the way they showed affection taking on a new intimacy in their shared bed. “You want to hear what I was thinking, or you want to gang up on me?”

“You like when we gang up on you,” Bucky growled, his hand sliding up Ayame’s stomach and pulling her flush against his chest. He only had the one this morning but it had always been enough to get him what he wanted from his people.

“I was thinking,” Steve pressed on. Propping himself on one elbow to kiss first Bucky then Amy. Gentle kisses. Soft and loving. Not long or deep but filled with so much he’d never been able to find words for. “That we never got a real honeymoon. One with no kids or responsibilities.”

“Here I thought this was a work trip.” Bucky swept his tongue over his lower lip, chasing the taste of Steve. His guy had a point. They weren’t working right now. They were alone, just the three of them. No baby. No responsibilities. Nothing but time to kill.

He ran his hand back down Ayame’s body. “What do you think, baby girl?” He nipped at her earlobe. Fingers working her pretty panties to the side. Stroking the silky growing wetness. “Should we give the punk a honeymoon to remember?”

Amy hummed happily, arching into his touch.

More than enough of an answer for Bucky. He slid his fingers home. Their girl, always ready for them. Ready, and eager. Rocking against him as she chased the friction. Bucky would have had a hard time giving her everything she wanted with only one hand. Would have, except he wasn’t alone in his efforts. He had Steve to help him. Goddamn Steve. Too sexy by half when he leaned in to share an absolutely filthy kiss with Ayame. One hand on Bucky’s ass, the other shoving Amy’s nightgown out of the way so they could both enjoy her chest. Wrapping himself around them. A foundation to their lovemaking.

“Bucky—” Amy breathed his name. All the things that could possibly accompany it too big for words.

Softly, Bucky kissed Ayame’s shoulder. The skin against his lips quivering with need. “I got you, baby girl. I got you.”

He rearranged her so she was pillowed against Steve’s side. Supported and surrounded. Normally, this would be when he smacked Steve on the thigh and demanded he hand him a condom. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Didn’t have to worry about anything other than making his girl feel good and feeling good himself…. And sharing some of that goodness with their boy once they’d given him a show. An intimate show. One with Ayame gazing into Steve’s eyes already. Steve cradling her cheek and gazing back with oceans of affection.

Bucky kissed Ayame’s neck. Sliding into his wife with agonizing slowness. Taking his time to ensure she knew his body as well as her own. That she knew how much he loved her. Bucky looked at Steve through his lashes. Watching the wonder that always spread across Steve’s face when he watched them together. That they both knew.

Steady warmth spread through Ayame’s body, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. One of her hands curled around the back of Bucky’s neck. Steve’s hand found the other as it groped uselessly for purchase. Steve curled his hand into Bucky’s hair. Completing their circle. And she was lost. Anchored by her boys. And adrift in a sea of pleasure. She was home. She was safe and loved and everything felt wonderful.

Her orgasm didn’t come as a scream, but as a long, relieved sigh. Every trace of anxiety leaving her body. Replaced by pure, unending love. The feeling drawn from a flash into an eternity as Bucky continued to move over and inside her.

Ayame’s long, shuddering sigh drove Bucky absolutely wild. He drank it in. Chased it and everything it represented. Until the moment broke, and all that love came pouring out.

Steve had himself in hand. Stroking without rushing. The moment shared with Ayame and Bucky carrying him more than halfway to where he needed to be. He loved seeing them together. Loved being a part of something so pure. When Ayame rolled over and wrapped her hand around his shaft alongside his, he almost died. Bucky’s mouth finding his pushed him even closer to the edge.

Time was nebulous where they were already, now he lost track of it entirely. Everything happening all at once, and over the course of a lifetime. He moaned into Bucky’s mouth. Pulling Ayame even closer to his chest. Love rushing out of him in waves of pleasure.

Steve collapsed, dragging Bucky and Ayame with him. Arms full of love. He kissed them both. But lazily. Unhurried in their afterglow. Limbs and body too heavy to move at anything beyond a crawl as he stroked Bucky’s back, buried his hand in Amy’s hair. Let himself drift in the endless moment. Ayame half asleep, this time draped across his chest. Bucky stretching contentedly next to them.

Steve revelled in all of it. His people, both in his bed, sated and spent. The three of them perfectly at ease.

Until Steve’s internal clock caught up with them. Time passed oddly in their little bubble, but it did pass. Steve rubbed the back of Bucky’s head. Short hairs prickling against his palm. They had a dinner to host. “We should start getting ready.”

“Not yet.” Ayame objected, rolling fully on top of him. She wasn’t done. She wanted Steve as much as she’d wanted Bucky. Especially when Bucky kissed her thigh. A silent promise to look after this orgasm with as much tenderness as he had the last.

Steve closed his eyes. Not yet. More beautiful words he couldn’t imagine.

*****

Bucky watched the pearl at the end of Amy’s hair stick as she wafted around the room. A luminous little ball decorating a pale wooden rod. So close in colour to her hair itself. It was beautiful in its graceful path around the room. It was also the only thing securing her hair in that infuriating bun at the nape of her neck.

He hated when she wore her hair up. That long, glorious fall confined. He knew Steve hated it too. For all he was leaning back in the couch running her through the plan for the 30th time rather than objecting. Here they were. The three of them sitting in a beautiful room, not the same one they’d spent the last couple days in, but the grand main sitting room of the New York Sanctum. And were they enjoying the space? No. His wonderfully stubborn people were working. Not just working, repeating work they had already done. Reviewing negotiation tactics while Ayame herself got into the persona she would need today. It kept both of them from worrying. But it wasn’t a good use of anyone’s time.

Someone really should remind them to relax. No one was going to be well-served by their being all pent up when the rest of their guests arrived. Bucky rolled out his shoulder.

Amy passed just within arm’s reach. Bucky struck like a cobra. Snatching the pearled stick and pulling it free. Ayame’s hair tumbled from its bun. The starlight waterfall he loved so much flowing free down her back.

He flipped the stick over in his hand. Slipping away before she could snatch it back. Leading her on a teasing pursuit. Loving the glint of defiance in her eyes.

Chasing him was just as much fun as being chased. He wasn’t actually trying to get away. The same way he hadn’t actually tried to run her down the last time they’d been flirting. Staying just out of reach with his prize.

Amy bounded over the low footstool. Taking the shortcut to cut off her mischievous boy.

Steve caught her around the waist. Sweeping her off her feet and into his lap. His girl wasn’t used to having both of them to account for. He’d just have to get her used to it again. In the most fun way possible. He buried his face in her gloriously loose hair with a contented sigh.

“Buck is gonna want you to wear your hair down more than I ever asked you to. Especially after we move to Paris.” The city of lights. Where she wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than being a beautiful wife and mother. Peaceful, happy, surrounded by love.

“Paris?” Ayame laughed, curling her legs under her so she was fully in his lap. She didn’t remember agreeing to move to Paris.

“For a few months.” Steve curled a piece of silky hair around his fingers. Paris, where she could lounge in a sunbeam, they could take family walks along the river, he could paint his beautiful people. Bucky and Ayame, naked except for a sheet, tangled in each other. He could claim it was a figure study. And they would both know that the time it took him to blend shades until he perfectly matched their skin was an act of love.

Bucky flopped onto the couch, leaning back against the arm to watch his people flirt. The view improved by Amy’s hair falling loose and liquid over Steve’s hand. “Think baby girl might have other thoughts on where we live, Stevie.”

Amy smiled at her husband. She had missed the way he saw right through her. Steve had never quite mastered that trick. Dai was the only person who came close. “I think it’s going to have to be New York. At least for a little while.”

Steve groaned and pressed his face into Amy’s neck. He knew why she was saying it. The world would be chaos when they got back. People would want ‘him,’ and he wanted to be with his newly reunited family. He wanted to be Steve, Taii, punk, and papa. Not ‘Captain America.’ Wanted to read his daughter her bedtime story and fall asleep in his marital bed. He didn’t owe the rest of the world shit, they were the people who had his heart. “I retired a month ago.”

“I know, Mon Ours.” Amy kissed his temple. The shell of his ear. All the places she could reach without dislodging his hold. “But they’ll need you. At least for a little while. We’ll be with you this time,” she promised. Deep purple eyes meeting Bucky’s as she promised him too. No more living apart. She had her husbands and their baby back. She wasn’t going to leave them again.

“Say it?” Steve asked. He could feel it in every line of her body. The way she curled against him. The trusting way she tipped her head into his hand. He still wanted to hear it. He always wanted to hear it.

“I love you.” Amy rested her forehead against his neck. Letting his peaceful vision of the future fill her with light. “No matter where or when we are.”

No matter where or when. Steve pulled her lips to his. Drawing her in until he could fill his lungs with her. With the sweet soft kisses of his wife. Her hands sliding into his hair. Her body arching into his touch. His hands curled around her hips, thumbs stroking her curves. A distant part of his brain reminded him of the benefit of her vintage wardrobe. The pretty flowy skirts were so easy to push up. If he shifted his grip, he could be toying with her garters in no time. Feeling her love in other delicious ways. God, their dalliance before they’d left their room hadn’t been nearly enough. He wanted so much more.

Bucky cleared his throat meaningfully. Personally, he’d let them keep going. Maybe drag them up to the roof terrace and wear them both out enough to justify a nap in the sun. He had a feeling they were going to be locked in their little temporal bubble for a while after this. Unfortunately, it looked like they had to get back to work. “We’ve got a guest.”

“I’m afraid I’m early.” Peggy shifted awkwardly in the doorway. Early and intruding. They looked so happy together. So in love.

“Sorry, Pegs.” Steve forced his arms open so Amy could get up. They hadn’t quite made it to the point where there were visible signs of his intentions. Better not to risk his thoughts straying any further and embarrassing them both. “It’s on us. We lost track of time.”

Ayame unfolded herself from Steve’s lap. Accepting her hair pin back from Bucky with an indulgent smile. She would get him back for this. “Settling back into life in the city?”

Settling wasn’t quite the word Peggy would use. Getting used to it again certainly, but she was chafing against the very concept of ‘settling.’ “It’s been a busy week.”

“Lucky for you, I know your favourite cocktail,” Steve announced, pushing to his feet. In fact, he had everything he needed to make a whole batch of Old-Fashioneds already waiting. Strong enough to get Peggy tipsy, sharp and well-balanced for the rest of them. Three or four might be enough to turn Amy’s head, but his girl tended to pace herself in company. And as much as he loved Peggy, she was company.

Bucky checked his watch. Peggy was right on time. He probably should have seen that coming and held off on starting anything. He just couldn’t resist tweaking his girl’s tail when she started getting too serious. Especially when Stevie was getting serious right along with her. “Dinner should be ready in about an hour. Just about enough time for one.”

“Two cherries?” Steve confirmed, ice clinking against the sides of the cocktail tin. Peggy liked her whiskey, but she also had a sweet tooth she hadn’t been able to indulge during the war.

“Three, if I’m not imposing.” Peggy adored preserved cherries, and she could see the jar of glossy black fruit from where she was sitting. Mouth-wateringly perfect specimens of their kind.

“You could never,” Amy promised. Ayame would give the woman far more than an extra cherry for love of her husband and their past, to say nothing of Peggy’s promised help protecting their precious future. “Now sit down and tell us about the Buffalo investigation.”

There wasn’t much point in pretending she didn’t know what Ayame was talking about. The file Thompson had assigned to her had the main manufacturing lab apparently located in Buffalo. It also happened to be a brand new file full of highly classified information that wasn’t even available to other agencies yet, let alone a civilian. “You shouldn’t know about that.”

“I get that a lot.” Amy flipped a hand dismissively. Really, the whole thing was painfully obvious. A better intelligence agency would have cut the whole thing off last year. Peggy herself would have noticed months ago if the men currently overseeing her work weren’t trying to stifle her. “Have you figured out who’s funding them?”

Peggy would bet that Ayame did. She would also bet that the time travel wasn’t responsible for her apparent clairvoyance. “I have some suspicions, but I’ll need to get a proper look at their books to be sure.”

“You think they wrote down the big boss’s name?” Bucky stroked Amy’s neck. A little disappointed that she’d put her hair back up.

Peggy was mildly amazed by the way Bucky’s hand found the back of Amy’s neck. Just as comfortable touching her as Steve had been. “Oh I doubt it. They’ll probably have more than one set of books for that matter.”

Steve set his first cocktail in front of Peggy. Three glossy black cherries skewered and balanced across the top. “It would almost be better to come at it from the other side. Rich entitled bastards always keep a tight hand on the purse strings.”

“True, but I suspect my boss will have issues with my breaking into the offices or houses of several prominent men without direct evidence.” Peggy took a sip of her delightful cocktail. “Thompson has been better, but he still has a line.”

“Yeah, but that assumes he finds out that you—" The bell rang again. Calling Steve away from their little knot of conversation. He went with a passing kiss on the top of Amy’s head and a squeeze of Bucky’s shoulder. There was nothing he loved quite as much as the two of them together. All relaxed and domestic.

“I can go snooping for you, if you’d like,” Amy offered. She couldn’t tell Peggy what the answer was. But there was no harm in using her skills to uncover it organically. “I don’t have a boss to disapprove.”

Bucky chuckled, fingers digging into the back of Amy’s hair. No she did not. She had husbands, but neither of them was under the misapprehension that they could boss her around. Stevie might disapprove of petty larceny, but not if it was for Peggy and the greater good. Especially if there was no bloodshed. And his girl wouldn’t need to resort to anything as messy as that. Not for the half-assed security she was likely to be up against.

“I do love an anonymous tip.” Peggy took another sip of her drink. She liked it a lot. Given Thompson’s reaction to Ayame’s mere presence, she doubted he’d have the spine to stand up to her once he discovered that she was the source. “My top suspect right now is—"

Peggy barely suppressed a gasp as Grant stepped into the sitting room. Smiling and laughing with Steve. She thought she’d gotten used to having him back while they were in California. Today, it was nearly as jarring as it had been the first time. He was alive. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He was real, and alive, and here. And she wasn’t at all ready to have any of the conversations she had been planning for tomorrow. “Oh, I didn’t know—”

“If it helps, I only found out last night.” Grant rubbed the back of his neck. He’d found the invitation waiting in his newly rented apartment. It had invited him to dinner without offering much more detail. He hadn’t known Peggy was going to be here anymore than she’d known he would. He’d have worn a better tie if he had. “Did you get my postcards?”

“I did, thank you.” They’d all been very pretty. Although she’d admit to being curious what his pictures of those vistas looked like. He’d promised to show her, once he developed them. She would just have to wait. “It sounds like you want to go back.”

Grant nodded. It was the first real trip he’d taken that didn’t involve either getting paraded around like a dancing bear or getting shot at. It had been a nice change. “Wouldn’t mind making the trip again. Taking a little more time. Get a little further off the path to take some better photos.”

“You’re liking it then? The photography?” Peggy would swear she never had issues conversing with him before. Things had always flowed easily between them. But then, they were learning each other again, and they’d never had their conversations in front of what was essentially him and his spouses looking on. The beautiful Ayame had the grace to occupy herself smoothing her already pristine skirt rather than ogling her like the rest of the peanut gallery.

“Yeah.” Grant smiled at Peggy. Doing his best to actually live up to his promise to be her friend. “They’re great. Way faster than sketching.”

Bucky elbowed Steve in the ribs as Steve retook his seat on the couch. God, it wasn’t just the angst of not being the one he was flirting with. Watching him flirt really was that painful. How on earth had that man pulled his clever little Fox?

Steve jostled him back. He knew. The only reason he ever looked smooth was because Ayame made it easy, and Bucky failed to notice his fumbling.

Lucky for him, he could save himself this time. Before any of the other people in the room noticed that they were wonderful, and he was a disaster. “Find a darkroom yet?”

“No thanks to you,” Grant snorted. The apartment Steve had found for him was fine. The location was alright, and it had decent floor space. On the other hand, the shower was in the kitchen, the windows in the kitchen and living room had never seen actual sunlight, and the bed was clearly military surplus from the first time they’d fought the Germans, and he wasn’t sure it had been on their side. The mattress was clearly trying to kill him. “There’s a place over on 2nd that lets you book time.”

Steve and Grant fell into deep discussion about the benefits of a rented studio versus private space. A moot point as far as Peggy could tell. Grant was in bachelor’s quarters wherever he ended up for the foreseeable future. And in New York, that made it highly unlikely he’d have anything like a closet large enough to turn into a darkroom. Even when he and his eventual partner settled down — Peggy opted not to investigate the feelings that accompanied that thought — they wouldn’t have the space if they stayed in the city.

Peggy forced herself back into the moment. She and Ayame had been in the middle of a conversation. “You were saying? About looking around?”

“You were telling me who I was looking at.” Ayame leaned forward playfully. It had been absolutely ages since she’d done anything as simple as basic investigation. She wouldn’t even have to worry about cyber security. Just nice clean locks and hidden compartments.

Bucky chuckled as he sipped his drink. Both his people talking about things they were passionate about. Dinner almost ready. It was going to be a good night.

****

Peggy dabbed her lips. The food was delicious. Light and flavourful. And mostly her favourites. Beef wellington, with a beautiful piece of tenderloin. Waldorf salad, the apples crisp and grapes juicy. And wine. Dark, rich French wine that had clearly been put up before the war and somehow survived. And now, a Battenberg cake presented with a generous flourish. “I assume there is a reason you invited us to dinner. Beyond just a pleasant evening.”

Ayame set down her wine glass with deliberate precision. Time for real business then. She’d assumed they’d make it to dessert. “I think you can agree that given the stakes we’re operating under, your current position as standard desk agent that everyone underestimates isn’t ideal.”

“If we want you to move up in the intelligence world, we need enough leverage to overcome their prejudices.” Steve set a hand on Amy’s knee. To that end, Ayame was going to play devil’s advocate. There were eight other Foxes that looked like her. At least two of which had been involved with the armistice negotiations. Steve doubted any of the men they were about to target would be surprised at one showing up now with a clear agenda. He just hoped they also wouldn’t second guess their ability to ‘outwit’ her. If they did their job right, the powers that be would think everything had been their idea. With any luck, the people who would have been her biggest detractors in the first years would be quietly taking smug credit for her every success. “So, we’re going to manufacture som—"

A sneeze racked Grant’s body. Shaking his shoulders and echoing through the room. Louder than it should have sounded. Everyone had stopped talking when he sneezed. “I’m good. You were saying, about leverage.”

“You okay, man?” Steve frowned. It wasn’t dusty in the sanctum. For all the antiques lining every flat surface, it was scrupulously clean.

“Yeah.” Grant fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped at his nose. “Caught a bit of cold on the train. That’s all.” He hoped it cleared up in soon. Lunch with Peggy wouldn’t be any fun if he was sniffling into a bowl of chicken soup and cup of tea instead of fighting her off his fries and egg cream. “Seriously, ignore me. Keep going with the plan.”

Only no one kept going. Around the table, everyone was staring at him. Even Peggy. “What?”

Bucky answered, because someone had to, and he didn’t see anyone else coming up with words for it. “Stevie doesn’t catch colds.”

“Look, I know I had a good run during the war, but these things happen.” Grant would have thought Bucky would know that better than anyone. And it wasn’t even a bad cold. Just irritating. A runny nose, a tickle in his throat. His lungs still felt full and clear. Not even worth a doctor’s visit even back when he had been small and sickly.

“I haven’t had anything like a cold in over a decade,” Steve answered evenly. All his time in planes and crowds. No sleep. Eating garbage. People shaking his hand without washing theirs. Babies sneezing in his face. Hideo’s preschool year, when he was constantly coming home with coughs and colds and Steve had spent more than one ‘vacation’ cuddling a little feverish body so his wife could get some sleep. Germs he’d never even imagined. Never so much as a sniffle. “You’re sure that’s what it is?”

Of course Grant was sure. He knew what a cold felt like. He’d had enough of them over the years. “It’s a cold. Some sneezing, tickle in my throat, a little muscle fatigue.”

“Muscle fatigue?” Bucky latched onto the symptom. That was something else Stevie didn’t get. Not after a week of leisure time. He got knots and cramps that their girl spent hours working out. He carried his tension in his shoulders and hands. But his muscles didn’t start to get tired until he’d been going hard for days on end.

Bucky propped his left elbow on the table. Offering his hand to Grant like they were going to arm wrestle. “Squeeze. Tight as you can.”

Grant squeezed. Bucky’s metal hand could take a bullet, he didn’t need to hold back.

Bucky didn’t flinch as Grant’s hold tightened. The grip was strong. But closer to Sam than to his husband. His girl could squeeze harder when she put her mind to it. The vibranium plates of his hand didn’t even grate together.

He shifted his hold on Grant, feeling for a pulse. It was steady. Maybe a little fast. Not rough and thready the way Stevie’s heart had been before. But not the slow constant beat he would have expected. At least not from someone with the serum strengthening their heartbeat. If he’d been checking Sam’s vitals, he wouldn’t have even questioned them. It was a perfectly normal heartbeat for a regular guy whose friends were needling him about something over dinner. But for him, or Steve, or even T’Challa with his more magical super strength, it was practically a panic attack. “You’re not alright, pal.”

“Well, what’s wrong with him?” He looked fine to Peggy. Maybe a little peaky. The tip of his nose might be a touch red. But he’d been laughing and talking with them readily enough before his sneeze and was back to complete coherence now.

Amy pushed away from the table. “This isn’t a dining room conversation.”

She didn’t look back as she stalked from the room. She trusted everyone here to follow her. There was an old-fashioned infirmary tucked into the basement, just next to the wine cellar. One that would no doubt be dingy if not for the light spell that brought sunlight to the small underground space.

Exactly the place for an exam. Amy might not be a doctor, but she could do an after-mission check in her sleep. That would have to be enough for now. She started by washing her hands. Calming and efficient. “On the table, please.”

Grant obeyed. If only because Bucky had already leaned himself casually against the wall by the door, so nothing really could happen.

She took his blood pressure, checked his reflexes, listened to his heart and lungs, looked at the back of his throat. All of them coming back with disturbingly average results. Except the back of his throat, which was mildly inflamed.

“Just a cold.” Amy pulled a bottle of aspirin and tossed it to Grant. “Everything else is perfectly textbook.”

Peggy looked between the other people crowded into the room. All of them showing various degrees of concern and anxiety. Textbook sounded good. Although he’d never really been textbook in the past. “What does that mean?”

That was a very good question. One Ayame only had a partial answer for. She had a reasonable guess at what. But why and how were still complete mysteries. “Something disrupted the serum’s cellular regeneration.” Amy wiped her hands. A deliberate act to keep herself calm. “Has anything odd happened in the past few days?”

She was worried for Grant. Concerned about the ramifications of the serum apparently evaporating. There would almost certainly be side effects they couldn’t guess at. Selfishly, she was more worried about Steve. She wanted to know what had happened to Grant so she could protect her husband. Something had taken Grant’s longevity and resilience. She needed to stop it from taking Steve’s. Or Bucky’s. The compounds that had given them their strength were fundamentally the same. If something in this time could take that from them... Make them vulnerable humans again... The world they lived in was so dangerous.

Steve set his hand between Amy’s shoulder blades. Rubbing his thumb back and forth to soothe away the tension. His girl had gone all stiff and serious. A subtle change, but a visible and sudden one. Ayame didn’t show feelings to the outside world. If this was coming through, with other people in the room, it had hit her hard. “Odder than normal, she means.”

“No. Nothing.” Grant started to redress. Nothing at all. Everything had been completely normal since they’d showed up in the 40s. A little world ending danger, but nothing he’d call odd. Except... Grant stopped, with one cuff still unbuttoned.

“Frost touched me.” It had been something they’d warned him against. Don’t let her touch you. That’s how she kills. She’d caught him off guard. It had been uncomfortable, but it had been fine. He’d been a little woozy after. But nothing serious. “The night she broke into Howard’s place. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Except she drained your life force,” Amy supplied. That would do it. Frost had been controlling the Aether by instinct. If all she was trying to do was absorb the essence, not knowing how much extra there was to him, it was possible she’d lost her grip before she got to the heart of him. Taken the power without the passion that guided it.

“It knocked me down for a little. But I felt fine afterward.” Except, he hadn’t. He’d been woozy and stiff the next day. A little weak and off balance. And he’d been tired. He’d written it off as stress, strange surroundings, and a week too busy for any real sleep. He hadn’t done anything that would really test his abilities since. And what little physical effort he had done had felt hard if he were really thinking about it.

Steve looked to Amy. Of all of them she had the deepest understanding of the serum. Not just the effects, but everything that surrounded it. She had spent years studying it back when she had been an academic. And working the problem always helped her settle. “What will it affect other than the healing factor?”

“There’s no handbook for this.” Ayame shifted closer to her husband in search of security. Dr. Erskine’s lack of decipherable notes had been a major part of why Steve had been allowed the free range he’d had during the war. More than half of his legend was the fact no one had ever been able to replicate it. Even the version Bucky had been subjected to hadn’t been replicable. Not without the Tesseract.

“Injury and disease recovery rate is obviously on the fritz.” Bucky flexed his left hand. Silently debating if pulling Steve and Amy into his arms would comfort his little Fox or just make her more anxious. “You said heart and lungs sound good?”

“They’re both normal.” Painfully normal. She was sure that if they could see it on an EKG it would look like the reference illustration. But she knew Steve’s heartbeat better than she knew her own, and that wasn’t it.

“So, none of his health shit from before has come back.” Bucky flexed his left hand. That was something at least. They’d probably have to run actual tests for the diabetes but given that he was starting from healthy this time it probably wouldn’t kill him in the next few years the way it would have before the serum. “You feeling anything other than the cold? Any big cramps? Unexplained pains?”

Grant shook his head. Nothing notable. His mattress issues were starting to make sense. But really, it was just a cold. The same sort of thing he’d gotten four times a year before. He could breathe, big deep breaths all the way to the bottom of his lungs. He felt weak, but not as if he was about to fall over or anything. A few days’ rest, some soup preferably from Newman’s down on Union, and he’d be totally fine again. “We’ll need to monitor. Make sure it isn’t just a slow burn thing.”

“You think it’s getting worse?” That was an angle Steve hadn’t considered. If it was, they’d have to find a way to at least stabilise him. Otherwise, their whole plan was over before it had really started.

“No.” Grant was reasonably sure things were pretty stable. But he’d also been denying that anything was happening at all for nearly two weeks. “It’s hard to say from the inside.”

Peggy swallowed. Grant wasn’t superhuman. It wasn’t good. But it wasn’t the end of the world either. “I think we might be overlooking the silver lining here. Trying to stop the world from noticing that Captain America had returned from the dead was always a complication in our plan. Now you’re just.... you.”

The man she had loved. Not the hero everyone else had venerated. The one she had lost. ...and the one she’d never really believed she could have to herself. Even when she’d let herself believe that she and Steve could have a future, she’d assumed she’d have to share him with the world. But if Grant was… just Grant…. Then he could also be… just hers….

Grant watched the complicated emotions warring behind Peggy’s eyes. “Pegs...”

Peggy straightened with a jerk. He wasn’t hers. She had made it very clear she didn’t want him to be hers at this juncture. And now here she was, picturing a future with the slightest provocation. “I’m feeling rather under the weather myself. If you don’t mind, I think I’d better turn in for the night.”

That was fine. Steve needed some time to reassure his wife and check that his husband was holding up too. “Let me walk the two of you out. We’ll call and set up another day to talk about everything else.”

Chapter 36: New Developments

“Carter.” Poking his head out of his office, Thompson beckoned for Peggy to join him rather than worrying about setting down her purse. He had the handset of his phone clamped between ear and shoulder. The cord stretched to the fullest extent as he passed around the limited space. Tethered as he was, he didn’t want to have to wait to debrief her on this.

Peggy balanced her handbag on the edge of the desk. Sinking into the second chair when Thompson waved for her to sit. Whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to have firm and urgent opinions on something. At least, they were talking Thompson’s ear off without any indication of stopping, or giving him an opportunity for more of a response than ‘yes, sir’ and ‘of course.’

She sat in silence for another three painful minutes. Trying and failing to make out the other half of the conversation in search of context. The voice was male, and evidently less than completely calm, but she couldn’t decipher more than an out of place word or two.

Jack thought the tirade was ending. That his third lecture of the day was finally wrapping up. He hadn’t earned any of them. Well, maybe the second one that had mostly been about the fallout from Masters’ disappearance and Frost’s arrest. Even that had been less about what he had done, and more about how the rest of the world was reacting. Badly, as it turned out. People did not like the idea that their favourite recently bereaved starlet had apparently murdered a sitting senator. There would be issues when and if it went to trial. This lecture wasn’t even about that. It was about ensuring that the section was running by the book, so he didn’t embarrass the organization. Which he wasn’t about to do. He ran a tight ship. Especially with him and Carter pulling in the same direction. At the very least, they could hold things together for one day of meetings. “Yes, sir. We’ll be available, sir.”

Finally free, Jack dropped the handset back into the cradle. More than a little exhausted despite the fact it was barely nine in the morning. He needed more coffee.

Peggy could be patient and wait for him to explain. Or she could be direct and get the answers she wanted. Peggy had always preferred the direct method. “What was that all about?”

That was an excellent question. Thompson honestly wasn’t sure he could answer it. Not to Carter’s satisfaction. He could give her their orders though. Those were clear enough. “Clear your schedule, we have a meeting with the top dogs on Friday.”

“You got me invited in as a secretary?” Not exactly what she’d prefer. But she would at least be in the room. She was proficient in shorthand, and taking notes was a small price to pay for first-hand information.

Jack shook his head. He’d been about to try and wrangle it when they’d taken the decision from him. He wasn’t about to complain. Not when they’d asked for exactly what he wanted. “They want you for this specifically.” Thompson collapsed into his chair. Exhausted by the meeting that hadn’t even taken place yet. He tossed his notepad with the list of people expected at the meeting towards her. She’d recognise most if not all. Two senior senators – one he’d met, one he hadn’t — the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a general with an unnerving amount of stars on his shoulder, and two colonels. There had been suggestions that there might be more people coming as well. Staff, he assumed. But those were the big names. “It sounds like there’s going to be some pretty big changes. They implied making us a civilian organisation.”

Peggy scanned the list. Colonel Phillips was coming, so there would be a friendly face at least. They were making some sort of move at the very least. And she couldn’t even pretend surprise. There was a terrible amount of military payroll sitting around in the office considering the demobilization going on. At some point the people holding the purse strings were bound to notice. “The war is over.”

“Next one’s not.” Thompson had half a dozen reports waiting for him, all of them explaining how what they were calling a ‘cold war’ was threatening to go hot. Possibly nuclear hot.

He wasn’t wrong. Which was why it was so important they stop fighting the last war. “The next one will be a very different war. One where plausible deniability and compartmentalization will outweigh strict military hierarchy.” And civilians were so much easier to disavow than members of the military proper.

“Yeah, that’s what we need. Less oversight.” Thompson rubbed his eyes in lieu of rolling them. He wanted as many checks and balances as possible. Layers of protection to stop people abusing their power. To stop him from falling to temptation and abusing his power.

There was oversight, and there was oversight. Peggy had experienced both during the war. She suspected Thompson had never been subjected to the peculiarities of true total war. Things behind the blockades had been different than life in the Pacific. “Did you ever use a limpet mine during the war?”

“I didn’t. Knew guys who did.” The insane bastards who swam into enemy waters with explosives strapped to their chest. He supposed Peggy had more experience with that particular brand of crazy. The Howling Commandos had been the craziest of bastards. Still were.

Close enough. He knew what they were and presumably what they were for at least. “They were invented in a swimming pool in Bedford. Those fancy time delay detonators they were so frantic about protecting the secret of were aniseed balls stuffed into condoms.”

“Seriously?” He’d assumed they were invented in a lab like the one they had here at the SSR. That the detonators were some fancy chemical compound that was strictly classified.

Regrettably. Peggy was still frustrated they hadn’t figured out a detonator that hadn’t used so very much of their precious sugar supply. “My point is, it can be significantly easier to create something truly brilliant when you don’t have to worry about all the might, power, and regulation of the engines of war looming.”

Thompson downed the last dregs of his cold coffee. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” Peggy doubted this many significant members of both the military and the government would be interested if the transition to a civilian agency was completely hypothetical.

“What if they shut us down?” He knew they probably wouldn’t start with the New York office if they were downsizing. But not being at the top of the list didn’t mean they weren’t on it.

“Well, you have a degree from Cornell, and I have one from Oxford. So, I think we’ll be alright.” She also doubted the two of them would be thrown out unceremoniously. He was highly decorated and the youngest SSR section chief since the first world war. She had commendations of her own, and her ties to Captain America still held some political weight. They would get rolled into other places. She might end up as a secretary without even the concession of a title to make her feel better. But it would be to a man with a high security clearance, so she would be in the know, even if she was bored.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do what my family wants me to do if I lose this job…” His father was already talking about his first run for congress.

Peggy reached across the desk to collect his mug. “I’ll get us more coffee. You get started on a list of things we need to prepare.”

*****

Given that everyone who could even pretend to command them was invading their office in two days, there was no question of not working late. Everything had to be absolutely spick and span, perfectly to the book. Files needed organizing. Reports needed duplicating. The archive and the lab both needed deep cleaning.

It was nearly midnight when Peggy finally made her way back to her apartment. Angie was out. No doubt still at the theatre.

The mail was on the table by the phone. Disappointingly postcard free with Grant not just in the city but under the weather. There was also a scribbled note from Angie.

A guy called. He sounded cute.

Something about leaving dinner early and wanting to reschedule.

Did you have a date and not tell me? English, I’m hurt.

He said he’d call again tomorrow.

Angie really was terrible at taking notes. Peggy assumed it was Steve calling to set up another attempt at their aborted dinner. She would deal with it later. She had too much going on this week to think about another awkward meal with Grant and the contentedly married people. She’d already made her excuses to get out of the planned lunch with Grant. A hurried call around dinner time where she had claimed she wouldn’t be able to get away from work. It was all too much right now. Too much hope. Too much anticipation. Too much to lose again. Too close.

He had promised her space and she was going to take it. At least while her future employment was up in the air. Steve and his spouses had the whole expanse of time to work with. They could wait until her present was stable.

*****

The phone rang as Peggy was collecting her bag for work the next morning. And she just ignored it. Either it was work and Thompson could explain better in person in a few minutes, or it was Steve and Ayame, who could wait. …Or it was Grant trying to reschedule their lunch, which she wasn’t ready to do.

She was busy. Very busy now that she was getting back to her real life. It wasn’t just work. Although, she fully expected that to take at least eighteen hours today. She had letters she’d been ignoring that needed responses. Errands she needed to run. She’d only gotten half her laundry done when she’d gotten back. And she really needed to make an appointment to get her hair washed and set. She’d been doing it herself for weeks and her curls just weren’t as neat as she liked.

And yes, she was still trying to figure out the complicated feelings Grant’s newly mortal status had stirred in her. She was sad, maybe even a little disappointed, that he had lost his strength and impossible health. But she was also very aware that if he didn’t have those abilities, he also didn’t have the same obligation to give himself to the world at large. He could give himself almost entirely to his future partner. He would still want to do something for others, she was sure. But his partner would come first and foremost. They — she — would be the most important thing in his life. If Steve was devoted to his spouses, how much more devoted would Grant be without that overwhelming need to play Atlas?

It didn’t change that he had disappeared on her. Left her to try and make her way alone for years.

It didn’t change that there was one more thing they were both trying to figure out in a strange new world…

And it certainly didn’t change that she was going to be late for work if she didn’t make the next train.

*****

If asked, Peggy would argue that she wasn’t avoiding going home. Thompson wanted summaries of all their ongoing projects, just in case they needed to present any of them to the assembly. Someone had to do a final edit and type up clean copies. Yes, it kept her in the office until after ten. But that was merely a side effect, not a deliberate goal.

She spotted another note by the phone, but didn’t stop to read it. She was exhausted. She needed a bath and a good night’s sleep if she was going to make it through her day of meetings.

She’d call them back tomorrow night. Once she had something to tell them.

*****

Peggy didn’t sleep well. Because she was mentally running through the plan for the meeting. Not because she had spent her few hours in bed being haunted by a wide smile and the ghost of warm breath on her neck. The memory of being lavished with devotion and love. Of beds in France, and broom closets in London. Of unwavering confidence in her abilities and pure belief in her intelligence.

All of which she did her best to ignore, along with the still unread note, as she got ready for her day. Her blue suit was freshly pressed. She had reset her hair. Shined her shoes to a perfect mirror finish. She was as presentable as even she could want as she skewered her hat in place with her favourite hat pin.

Peggy didn’t have to deal with the stress of a ringing phone this morning. A small mercy, even if the lack of a call still left her gut twinging with guilt. Ayame hadn’t arranged the dinner for no reason, after all. Steve had been trying to tell her something important before Grant’s sneeze had interrupted everything.

She’d call when she got home tonight. Once today’s meeting was over, she should have more information to share with them anyway.

*****

Despite arriving nearly an hour early, Peggy wasn’t the first one into the office. The night agent was there, obviously, Matherson hunched over his desk and looking worse for wear. But there were also signs of a second person moving around.

She stopped at the corner of Matherson’s desk to take in the scene. Poor man. His inbox was as full as his coffee cup was empty. “Busy night on the phone?”

Matherson rubbed his eyes exhaustedly. “Chief has been in since six.”

That explained the inbox even better than a busy phone. There were only so many active investigations or field agents with new leads that could call in with information requiring urgent action. Jack in an anxious tizzy could generate significantly more. “Oh dear. Let me see if I can put him out of his misery.”

She found Jack in the conference room. Pacing and fretting. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“What? No, yeah, I’m fine,” Jack answered, paging through the papers they had prepared. “Do you think we should have copies of the Daisy Clover Milk incident report?”

“That thing with the nitramene last year? I hardly think they’ll be interested in that.” Not when compared with the events that came after at least, and those they had reports prepared on.

“I need them to know this office isn’t a waste.” Thompson straightened the files. They were an expensive office, and it wasn’t like they were that far from the DC or Boston sections. Add in the more… freeform aspects of how they’d been operating lately, and he could see them being on the chopping block.

“Best foot forward.” Taking pity on him, Peggy took the water pitchers to fill. They would need at least two. And she needed to make sure the coffee urn was full. They had sugar, but someone might need to run to the store on the corner for cream. “We’re a good unit. They’ll see that.”

*****

They were ready long before their guests arrived. Nothing left for Thompson to do but shift the chairs until they were ‘perfectly’ aligned. Peggy claimed the seat next to Thompson’s. It was probably a more senior seat than she would otherwise be assigned. But if she was going to act as secretary and note taker, she needed to be close enough to hand him things, and hear his whispered notes on things they would need to take action on after the meeting. And she wanted to be right in the thick of things. Not shunted off to a corner where the men at the table could dismiss her. She had her pen, her note pad, extra copies of every report or statistic they could possibly want, and more importantly, she had the answers to every question they could possibly ask.

Their guests arrived promptly at ten. Peggy expected nothing less. Not with Colonel Phillips leading the pack. Peggy stood to sharp attention for him.

“Agent Carter.” The handshake was as much affection as Colonel Phillips showed to anyone.

“Colonel.” Peggy shook his hand with as much reserved affection. He had offered, back when her world had gone sideways, when they had won the war and lost the reason their little group had been able to keep fighting, to keep her on the team. Not just as their intelligence agent, but as the fully fledged field agent she was trained to be. She had regretted turning it down even then. It had hurt too much to be with the Howling Commandos when their heart wasn’t with them.

She had turned him down thinking working with the SSR would be almost as good. It hadn’t been. And having worked with the Commandos again, albeit illicitly, that regret was back. The things she could have done with a team like them.

Still, he met her eyes with that determined confidence. As if he was trying to tell her something with his gaze alone. Good or bad, Peggy couldn’t quite say.

The Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff took his place at the head of the table. Completely ignoring all their carefully prepared reports. He pulled his own papers from his briefcase. Perching reading glasses on the tip of his nose as he briefly reviewed the information he’d brought with him.

He set the papers down once the rest of them took their seats. “Let’s start. The SSR is losing funding. The plan is to start closing branches by the end of the year. Starting with New York.”

*****

By the end of the day, Peggy’s mind was whirling. Her future was anything but settled. By this time next year, she could either be a senior agent at a new and evolving civilian intelligence agency, or she would be a clerk at a bank, bored out of her mind and just trying to make rent.

But no. Between her connections and the determination of the Rogerses she would never end up that out cast. Secretary to a general or back at MI5 maybe, but not completely out on the street.

It was cold comfort as she made her way out to the street.

Chapter 37: Leverage

It might not be as late as Peggy had been arriving home most of the week, but she was still tired, and dinner had still been a sad looking egg sandwich eaten standing up at the soda counter by the subway exit. She could have sat down, there had been a handful of tables free. But really, she just wanted to take off her shoes and relax for a while, and the cramped deli had decidedly not been the place for that.

At least Angie would be at the theatre. Peggy really wasn’t sure how she could explain the particular funk she was in just now. Not when everything causing the conflicting emotions filling her chest was classified.

“Is there a reason you’re not taking my husband’s calls?” a crisp voice asked from the sitting room.

Peggy forced herself not to startle. She had assumed the lamp in the sitting room was on because Angie had forgotten it on the way out. Apparently, she had been wrong. It was on because she had an unexpected guest. “Is there a reason you broke into my flat?”

Amy flipped a wrist dismissively. Peggy had been avoiding their calls, and they needed to talk. “‘Broke in’ feels like an overstatement. I know children who could pick that lock. I had it open in less than five seconds.”

Peggy set down her bag stiffly. “I’m sorry our locks didn’t live up to your expectations.”

Ayame shifted on the couch, so she was facing Peggy properly. The lock was incidental. She would be surprised if Carter wasn’t underwhelmed by it herself if she had to pick it. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Avoiding. The very idea that she was avoiding anyone, or anything, was, ironically, something she’d been avoiding thinking about this week. “I’ve been busy at work. I simply haven’t had the time to call at a reasonable hour.”

“You know we don’t care about a reasonable hour.” Ayame looked at her pointedly. They existed outside of time, and she had never worried about things like that to begin with anyway.

Well, yes. But it wasn’t just the hour that had made it the wrong time to call. “I had a meeting about the future of the SSR today. I thought it would be expedient to hold off calling until I knew more. Given that the changes are likely to affect your plans.”

Amy raised her eyebrows. She thought next steps for the SSR were obvious. “New York is being spun off into a civilian intelligence agency. Some of the smaller offices will be closed completely. The rest will be rolled into either the new agency or other departments over the course of the next five or so years.”

Peggy pursed her lips. That was a reasonable summary of the day’s meeting. It also meant she was out of viable excuses and Ayame knew it. Which, given what Peggy knew about her, meant she probably also had a reasonable guess at the real reason.

“The question is…” Ayame leaned forward, pushing the stack of files she’d brought with her towards Peggy. She didn’t want to push Carter too hard. It wasn’t like hiding from Steve because she didn’t know how to deal with the emotions he caused wasn’t a sin she shared. They had bigger fish to fry than whether Peggy and Grant would make a go of it. “...how do we convince them that you should be the one in charge of that new civilian agency?”

“I am a liability.” Peggy settled onto the edge of the couch opposite. How many times had she heard variations on that sentiment during her working career? She was hot-headed. Too smart and too stubborn for her own good. She wanted it though.

Amy rolled her eyes. ‘Liability.’ She’d heard that one herself. Of course, the same men who had called her a liability had later called with their tails between their legs in need of help. Something Peggy had already had experience with, and would get more of with time. “You’re the smartest, most reliable option they have, and the only person I would trust as far as I could throw with the power of the Tesseract long term.”

“As far as you could throw? Not your husbands?” Peggy quipped. Giving in and picking up one of the presented files.

“They can throw significantly further and one of them is a lot more trusting.” Although to be fair to Steve, Ayame doubted he would trust anyone else for this either. Not when their baby was at stake.

“He believes in people,” Peggy said distractedly. It was one of the things she’d always loved about him. It was that belief that made people want to follow him. And hardly the most interesting thing they could be talking about right now. “Did Colonel Webber really embezzle a hundred thousand in procurement funding?”

“Please,” Ayame snorted. She was a professional. “I’m not going to make the same amateur mistakes they did. All my blackmail is real.”

Peggy picked up the next file in the stack. “I may need something to drink if you’re going to drag every up-and-coming member of the American intelligence community through the mud.”

“Tea or whiskey?” Ayame had brought both with her. Possibly presumptuous, but she had specific tastes and she doubted anything Stark stocked in his second house was up to her standards. Not after having tasted what was available at his primary residence.

“Whiskey, I think.” It had been a very long day and Peggy was going to need something stronger than tea to get her through what looked to be an even longer night. For that matter, just the name on the fourth file down would have left her wanting a drink. Ayame hadn’t left the Brits out of her research. Peggy was going to need more than one drink if she was going to unpack Fred’s sins.

Going through all of the files was a tedious mix of doldrum and horrification. So many men she’d thought of as respectable that had done questionable if not downright despicable things.

Thankfully, the whiskey Ayame had brought was excellent. Strong, but sweet with lots of oak and cherry. It softened the edges of the facts. Kept her blood from growing cold.

It wasn’t like all of the files were full of surprises. Most of it had been floating around as rumours, all Ayame had presented her with was hard proof. And she appreciated the proof. The rumours of Whitehall’s impropriety might not have been enough for the executives to rule him out as a candidate, they were just whispers after all. Locker room talk. But Peggy certainly didn’t want him in charge of the women of the typing pool. With hard proof, she wouldn’t have to worry about what might happen to girls just trying to make a living.

Some of the others were less shocking. Things Peggy wouldn’t necessarily think precluded a command, but others would. And Peggy wasn’t going to fight too hard when that judgment gave her a practically clear shot at the position.

Practically, not perfectly.

Peggy scanned the remaining files. There was a name she’d been expecting to see that she hadn’t yet. “I don’t see a file on Thompson.”

That would be because Ayame hadn’t taken the time to write one. He knew what he’d done. Peggy knew what he’d done. Putting the facts down on paper had felt like a needless attack on someone already in the middle of a crisis. “If I told you I didn’t have anything to put in it?”

“I absolutely wouldn’t believe it.” She had referenced it at their first meeting. Which was why Peggy was surprised it wasn’t here.

Amy rolled her whiskey around her glass. No, of course not. Even if she hadn’t tipped her hand on knowing the big thing to distract him from noticing Grant and Bucky that first night, there were still half a dozen small things she could have brought up. “Maybe I think it was less of a sin than you do.”

Peggy would have thought she’d be more offended if anything. They were her countrymen after all. Peggy was sure Ayame understood what happened in the heat of battle, but that wasn’t quite the situation in question. “They were trying to surrender.”

“Exactly.” Amy sipped her drink. Surrendering when they weren’t even under fire. Their commanding officer should have shot them before they ever made it to the beach.

Peggy considered the other woman. There was an intensity there she could appreciate, even if they didn’t agree on all points. “I think Thompson is likely to decline in favour of giving me the position.”

Ayame set down her drink, in favour of her notebook. More than happy to move on. There was a reason she and Steve avoided talking about her country’s role during his war. If Thompson wasn’t going to be an obstacle, she wasn’t going to dredge up that particular history. “Reasonable, given that he is likely to be called to run for Congress reasonably soon.”

“He’ll hate that.” Peggy could see it though. His family encouraging him to go into politics for the status of it. That had been half of what Masters had been grooming him for.

Ayame shrugged. Maybe, but he was good at it. “The people who put him forward might be disappointed where exactly he falls on certain issues.”

“Yes.” Peggy considered the near breakdown he’d had her first day back in the office. “I suspect they might be.”

“One more.” Ayame tossed the last slim file towards Carter. It was arguably the most important of them all. The real reason Ayame was here.

“Who else could possibly be up for the job?” It was nearly midnight. Peggy was exhausted and more than slightly disillusioned. Reading through concise and professionally complied lists of flaws on every man who could possibly be her superior in a new position had that effect.

“You.” That was the entire point of the exercise. Establish why the men who wanted the job shouldn't have it, and why Carter should. “Or did you think they wouldn't have objections?”

“I don't know that there is much I can do about their primary objection.” Peggy gestured vaguely to her chest with her whiskey glass. She was always going to be a woman, and that was always going to cause at least some men to balk at the idea of giving her command. Especially this kind of command.

No. But even the ‘impossible’ could be overcome with enough determination. “Do you think that is a good reason?”

“I think I’d be bloody brilliant.” Peggy felt herself swell with righteous purpose. She could run the organization they were suggesting in her sleep. None of the men on Ayame’s list had half her experience dealing with threats of a more exotic nature.

“So,” Ayame refilled Peggy’s whiskey glass. She agreed, but wasn’t the one they needed to convince. “Tell me why all their other arguments are wrong.”

Because none of them would even be arguments if her school uniform had been Eton trousers rather than a St Martin-in-the-Fields skirt. “Nothing in that file is a real scandal. Castle Kaufmann? I may have been slightly off book, but I have two medals for it and it’s the reason Hydra didn’t have an army of super soldiers to bring against us during the war. Foix was arguably one of the most successful missions the Commandos ran during the war. And we wouldn’t know nearly as much as we do about Leviathan if I hadn’t been on the ground. The closest they come is the fact I was fucking Captain America. And they can ask anyone, we were as good as engaged.”

Ayame made a note. That was very true. “Do you want them to have found a ring in his personal possessions?”

“You can do that?” Peggy’s heart beat a little faster. What would she have done if there had been a ring? If that fragile dream had shattered from yet another angle. “Silly question, of course you can. But no, if it needs to come out it can be in mine. He’ll be fine with the lie that he gave it to me to hold onto until we could make things formal.”

“I'll see if I have something with me that we can have in reserve. If not, I’ll send him to pick something up.” Ayame made a note. She thought she had a vintage solitaire she wasn’t particularly attached to in her jewellery box. “Next argument.”

“Diplomacy.” Peggy shouldn’t be surprised that Ayame ran through mission complications the same way Steve did. They were married after all. It was as disconcerting as it was comforting. She knew this dance, a new partner running her through the steps wasn’t going to throw her off. Even if this partner looked better in a red lip than most of her other partners. If Ayame was going to take devil’s advocate, she could fight her corner. “This new organization is going to have to involve a multi-national coalition. I have more experience wrangling one than almost anyone on that list.” To say nothing of experience with the more supernatural and hyper-scientific elements that would be the focus of the new agency.

Ayame nodded. That was more than true. Working with Steve and the Howling Commandos, Peggy had rubbed elbows with everyone that could be even remotely described as wartime leadership. “This will be on a slightly different scale than the Commandos.”

“I still know all the people at the top. And I’m pleasantly non-threatening.” World leaders were significantly less likely to assume her plans were some sort of power play than they would for another man. Silly, but there it was.

“Only to idiots who don’t know what a threat looks like,” Ayame muttered, making another note. Which worked in their favour. Those same idiots would be painted into a corner before they realised Peggy had handed them the brush.

Ayame sat up straighter, turning to face Peggy more directly. Idiots aside, they were making good progress on a preliminary briefing. “Why you, why not Dugan?”

That was a non-starter. And Ayame knew it too, given that she hadn’t included a file for him. “Dum Dum would be the first person to tell you this isn’t his sort of command. He and Falsworth are brilliant in the field, but neither of them has the temperament for this kind of desk job.”

“Trump card?” Ayame asked. Peggy would need one. A coup de grâce to cut off any further objections. A reason the men could tell themselves when they needed reassurance that giving the job to a woman was the right decision.

“I fucked Captain America,” Peggy clucked into her glass.

“I think it’s a good qualification.” There were a limited number of people who could claim the accolade, and Ayame trusted all of them with more than her life. “They might not.”

Peggy closed her eyes. She didn’t have a lot of leverage in and of herself. But she had her friends. “Stark will work with me, where he’d rather break rocks than talk to any of the names on that list.”

“Good trump card,” Ayame said, amusement playing across her lips. At least it was a good trump card short term. And long term, Peggy would prove herself more than competent a hundred times before Stark started pulling against the reins.

Peggy curled her legs under her. She still rather thought the first one was better, but Ayame was right, it wasn’t one she could use. At least not explicitly. “Would you hire me?”

“You’d be my first choice even if the good Captain were officially alive.” Steve would have taken the job, and proceeded to hate every moment of it. Carter’s temperament was better suited. She really would be brilliant.

*****

Bucky leaned against the window frame. Gazing out at the quieting city. It was weird, their wife being out on their town while they waited behind. Maybe out on the town was an overstatement. She was spending the evening briefing Peggy. Still. It was their town. Where he had grown up, misspent his youth. Where he thought he’d come home to after the war. And the war was over, he could see that in the life outside. But it wasn’t home.

Steve wrapped himself around Bucky from behind. Rubbing his chest and nuzzling his neck. His guy was tense. He hadn’t really expected him to be relaxed. Not with Ayame away. But he was more focused than normal. “What’re you thinking, Buck?”

“Brooklyn’s only twenty minutes away by train.” Bucky covered Steve’s hand with his own. Kept it pressed to his heart. “This time of night, Ma will be doing her mending. Pop's probably working in the shop still. Trying to get the cars ready for tomorrow.”

“You miss them?” Steve could understand that. Bucky and his family had been close. Being back here… It brought stuff up for Steve, it had to be worse for Buck.

Bucky sighed, shifting out of Steve’s hold so he could see him. It wasn’t that he missed them exactly. He wasn’t sure he had enough concrete memories of them left to really miss them. But he was here and… It all felt unreal. “Always thought I’d introduce my wife to them. Get their approval.”

“Buck…” ‘She’s killed over a hundred people, she had another man’s child out of wedlock, her family fought on the other side of the war…’ All of which would be issues for most parents, none of which would be the real deal breaker for Bucky’s ma. “She’s not Catholic.”

Bucky shrugged. That was all true. None of it changed how he felt about her. Some of it, their absolutely perfect baby, made him love her even more. And his ma would come around once she met his girl. “She’s rich.”

Steve snorted. She was rich, well-connected, and more importantly, Bucky loved her with all his heart. “So, it’s a toss-up.”

Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s neck. Aims definitely wasn’t the sort of person his ma had wanted for him. His girl was a wild creature. All pride and challenge. His ma would have wanted someone level-headed. Someone who’d look after him when he was in in one of his ‘moods,’ as she called them. Of course, he wouldn’t have had nearly as many ‘moods’ if he hadn’t been killing himself for love of Steve. “She’d love you for me.”

“If I were a girl, yeah,” Steve agreed, stroking his knuckles over the back of Bucky’s hand. Of course, if he’d been a girl, he probably wouldn’t have been oblivious to the fact that Buck had been in love with him since they were kids. Probably would have been married to his guy by nineteen and then who knew what would have happened.

Bucky shook his head. His ma would have understood if he’d tried to really make a go of it back then. If he’d sucked it up and taken the risk to let Stevie know how he felt. At least, he told himself she would. They still would have had to hide. Pretend to just be friends who hadn’t found the right women. Probably still would have gotten dragged into the war. Stevie still would have volunteered to be a guinea pig. Still would have had to deal with all the awful parts that had come after, plus trying to stop Steve giving them away and getting them arrested.

…And if he had told Steve back then, he wouldn’t have any of his girls. Ryzhevolosaya Decochka would have died young, alone, never knowing how loved she could be. Neither of them would ever have met Ayame, and then who would look after their stubborn little Fox? Steve and Amy would never have given him his perfect little Lilypad.

No. The in-between years had been rough. But he wouldn’t trade the life he had for the ghost of one that existed here. “I love you.”

Steve drew Bucky into his arms. Cuddling him safe and close, right where he belonged. Aims would be home in a few hours. Then she could take her place snuggled against them. He was sure that between the two of them, they could drive away any regrets Bucky was feeling. “Love you too, Buck.”

Chapter 38: Plans for the Future

The second day of the meeting was a study in organized chaos. All the reports and summaries that had been ignored yesterday were suddenly vitally important. Yesterday had been about dictating the direction of the organization. Today was significantly more about the logistics of the direction. Establishing whether the plan brought down from on high had any bearing on reality. Peggy wasn’t at all concerned about what the group assembled in the conference room would find. She had checked over the final document package herself. It was clean, well-organized, and made them look as fantastic as they were.

The bullpen had started to notice something was going on. They could hardly ignore it after all. They weren’t idiots. They’d started muttering amongst each other and shooting nervous glances between Thompson’s office and the conference room. Every time Thompson moved from one room to the other, everything on the floor stopped. Heads coming up to follow the movement. When she made her way from the conference room to the archives, they followed her path as well. When the dignitaries emerged, their heads all went down. All determined to look busy and productive. Peggy was sure they were worried about discharge. The SSR was a military organisation, and the war was over. She was sure many of them had friends or family who had been let go from other branches of the military. When the infantry was downsized, when procurement had been reduced, when any number of other research or training organisations had been eliminated. They had lasted longer than most, but that only meant that many of the good jobs in the civilian world had already been filled.

Peggy was far too busy to worry about their anxieties. She had files to pull. Questions to field. Seeds of an idea to plant.

Peggy doubted her name would end up anywhere near the list of final candidates if she didn’t get herself put on it. In retrospect, she probably should have hashed out some options for doing just that last night. She’d been preoccupied with the elimination of other candidates and the rather fantastic whiskey Ayame had supplied.

It wasn’t a complicated problem. She just needed someone to put her name forward. Someone who believed in her and would spearhead the push. Once the threshold was breached and she was on the list, she was sure she could fight her corner effectively. And she really did need to be put forward. Just standing up and announcing her interest would only get her dismissed as an impetuous girl who didn’t know what she was asking. No. She needed to be nominated if there was any hope of success.

The lack of complexity in the solution also meant there weren’t a lot of places things could be fudged. Leading to awkwardly tight logistics for something that really needed to happen today if it was going to be successful. The list of men who could be convinced to nominate her was short. Especially on short notice. Dugan or Falsworth’s opinions might have some weight. But of course, they were back in Europe. Thompson’s thoughts on the matter were unlikely to be completely ignored. Especially if he were declining the position. But he was the junior man in the room. An ‘outlandish’ suggestion from him might be considered, but not seriously.

What she needed, was someone senior. Someone respected. Preferably someone with a significant history with the SSR. Who understood their mission. Who trusted her and her abilities. Had worked closely with her and the Howling Commandos during the war. Knew that her relationship with Steve had been based on more than the physical. And who was planning to retire in the next year in order to spend more time with Myrtle, so he couldn’t take on the role himself.

*****

It was nearly eleven before Peggy saw an opportunity. Colonel Phillips alone by the coffee pot.

Peggy squared her shoulders. Approaching him with all the confidence she had in her abilities rather than her confidence in the reaction to her request. “Sir, I’d like to put my name forward for the directorship.”

“You’re sure?” Colonel Phillips stirred cream into his coffee without looking up. “It’s not going to be an easy job. Harder for you than most.”

Peggy understood the challenges she was facing. She was also aware of what she could do with the opportunity. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” Philips said with gruff efficiency. He slurped his coffee and added more sugar. “That’s why I wanted you in the room from the start.”

Peggy could have cried. After everything, he still believed in her. Of course, crying over something like this was an excellent way to tell the assembled committee that she was emotional to the point of hysteria and far too unstable to even be considered for the position. Instead, she snapped a salute. Crisp and precise. He believed she could do it. Steve and Grant believed she could do it. Peggy was starting to think it wasn’t an impossible dream.

*****

By four that afternoon, Peggy was confident that her being given the command was more than a dream. It was going to happen. She was going to be the director of the new agency. The ideas had been volleyed back and forth. Other candidates had been crossed off the list. She had defended her honour, and so had her champions around the table.

Interestingly, it wasn’t Colonel Phillips or even Thompson doing the defending at the moment. The general was leading this particular push. He had been the loudest objector to the idea of shutting down the SSR yesterday. He was of the opinion that the functionality should stay within the army. A fact Peggy couldn’t help thinking was related to his support for her now. That he wasn’t backing her as a candidate because he wanted the new organization to be a success, but because he wanted it to fail and thought she would be a weak link.

It didn’t really matter why he was backing her. He was. And with him, Phillips, Thompson, and her folio full of reasons why their other candidates shouldn’t be candidates, it would be enough. They’d swayed several of the others to the point they would at least be open to her candidacy.

She sat calmly in her place at the table. Making a concerted effort to project an aura of confidence. Responding to direct questions and valid objections while ignoring any and all personal attacks. She belonged here. Both at the table and behind the director’s desk. She had to believe it with more conviction than any of her supporters if anyone else was going to buy in.

It seemed to be working. Those valid objections and direct questions had slowed to a trickle. Even as the other side grew louder and more pointed in their attacks. She might have to take Ayame up on that fake engagement ring. The senator was teetering on the edge of actually using the phrase ‘sucked Captain America’s dick’ as part of his squawking. Embracing it at least stood a chance of shutting down that particular ‘argument.’

The Vice Chairman stood to cut off debate. “I think Carter is the obvious choice. Give her say…” He paused, visibly considering timelines. “A six-month probation. That lets us start right away and gives us time to do in-depth interviews with replacements if it looks like she’s struggling.”

Not an overwhelming endorsement, but in was in. She would just have to make sure she wasn’t struggling come the six-month mark. Or the three-month mark, which was when they were likely to take stock to see if they needed to replace her. It would mean hitting the ground running. But she could do it.

*****

There were more details to work out of course. Hours more. One of the agents from the bull pen was sent for dinner around six. By nine-thirty, the men were all satisfied with the prospect of Peggy’s leadership and the short-term plans for the new agency. They hadn’t settled on a name, but the logistics were there, the dressings would come.

Thompson would be her second-in-command. Officially, head of field work. Similar to the position he’d held before his admittedly rather sudden promotion, and one even Peggy couldn’t deny he was good at. Their new organisation would be a different scale, but the same general skill set. It had been a convincing factor for a number of men at the table. He would be leading the charge in the field. She would be sitting safe at home making sure he didn’t have to worry about irrelevant details. Peggy wasn’t about to shatter that pretty illusion for them. Not before she was sworn in.

Peggy kept up her serene façade. Making notes and offering her now more relevant opinion on other matters. After, they could find out that Dum Dum and the rest of the team weren’t about to answer to anyone other than Phillips or her.

*****

Peggy waited until almost everyone else had left for the night before collecting her purse. First in, last out. That would be her mantra during these early days. It would make for long hours, but it would also set a precedent.

One she wasn’t the first chief here to set. Running into Jack on the way to the stairs was practically routine at this point. That didn’t stop her from being surprised he hadn’t taken the senator up on the offer of a drink at his club. “You’re here late.”

“Thought I’d start packing. Going to have to trade you desks at some point.” Jack had a box full of personal items. Most of which he probably should have taken home or thrown out ages ago. None of which were really all that personal. A Yankees ball, a couple old copies of the New Yorker. He might need to get a life. And with Carter in the hot seat, he might even have time.

“We should see if they can convert the smaller conference room into an office for you. You’ll need somewhere you can close the door for private briefings.” Somewhere to put up maps and take calls from teams in the field. A private space for him to do his work that would make his demotion feel like less of a slight to the men.

Thompson bumped his shoulder against hers. That wasn’t a half bad idea. “Not going to graciously let me keep the old one, huh?”

“The view on that side of the building is so much better.” Plus, it would take weeks if not months to finish the renovations. Peggy needed to be firmly situated by then if she was going to keep her post. Not working haphazardly out of file boxes in the conference room or the same desk she’d had when she had been a senior field agent in name only. Perception was important. Looking in control was nearly the same thing as being in control.

Thompson shrugged into his jacket. There was that. He got the feeling she’d be a lot more comfortable behind that desk than he ever had been. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. We’ll toast your new job and my not having to write budgets anymore.”

“No.” Peggy took a deep, centring breath. That had been too sharp. Yes, she was a little on edge, but Thompson hadn’t done anything wrong. On the contrary, Jack had been her best champion today. “Thank you, but I think I’m just going to call it a day.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. Honestly, the night he’d gotten promoted, he’d gotten smashed. She was smarter than he was, so he could see her not going that far. He also knew Peggy wasn’t a teetotaller. One drink to celebrate wasn’t going to make her miserable in the morning. “You’re going to go home and keep working, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to write up those budgets you loathe.” But no. That wasn’t what Peggy had planned. She didn’t have anything planned. She needed time to think before she could make anything as concrete as a budget. She needed to be clear and confident in her intentions before she could pass them on to others.

*****

How she had ended up at this door rather than her own, Peggy wasn’t sure. She’d felt so confident about everything. Until she’d started descending stairs to the subway. Then the overwhelming prospects of if all had hit her. She’d needed someone to help her get her thoughts in order. She could have gone back to Howard’s apartment. Angie would be at the theatre, but it was late, so she’d be home soon enough.

Of course, Peggy couldn’t talk out any of what had happened today with Angie. She could here.

She knocked before she could think better of it. Conflicting fear and relief filling her when she heard answering footsteps almost immediately.

“Peggy? What’s wrong?” Grant wrapped a hand around her arm and drew her into the apartment. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Eyes wide, cheeks pale, hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Nothing. I…” Was nothing wrong? Peggy let Grant guide her to the couch. She couldn’t actually put a finger on anything that was wrong exactly. There was no single thing she could point to as being the reason none of it would work. She just... There were so many moving parts. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was missing something obvious. “I’m going to head a new civilian intelligence agency.” An entire brand-new agency. One with congressional oversight, and they’d have to liaison with the new Global Security Council that was being set up. But otherwise, it would be all hers. Well, hers and Thompson’s. He might be taking a demotion, but he’d still have quite a bit of weight to throw around as outgoing command. She wasn’t overly worried about it causing conflict. Given that he was in the middle of an existential crisis, she doubted he’d push back much as long as her plans weren’t completely insane.

“You’ll be brilliant, Pegs.” Grant had known it from the moment the idea had come up. Before that. From the first time someone had mentioned that Peggy had founded S.H.I.E.L.D. That didn’t mean Peggy would believe in herself as deeply and instantly as he had. He wouldn’t blame her if it took her a moment to come to terms with it all.

Peggy let out a slow, shaky breath. She wasn’t saying she wouldn’t be. It was just… A lot… “A whole agency. With departments.”

Not a huge staff to start. Just the New York office and likely not all of them once other agencies called in their chits. Less than a hundred people. But if she did her job well, they would roll in the entirety of the SSR. A dozen offices all with generous staffs of their own.

“I’ve seen what the kind of threats you’re going to be up against can do. You’ll need a tight ship.” Grant sank slowly onto the couch next to her. Laying one arm along the back as a compromise for his desire to pull her fully into his lap. A very tight ship since she wouldn’t be able to trust about a third of the organization. Keeping them compartmentalized and away from anything that could do real harm would be a full-time job all itself.

She would. Ayame’s threats and blackmail would only go so far. She would need to prove her competence if the organisation was going to grow the way she wanted it to. There was so much potential. For success as much as failure. “I’m poaching Rose.”

A grin stretched across Grant’s face. She had to. They’d all be lost without Rose. The team would never have made it back from their first official mission in Italy without her, let alone won the war. “Souza might fight you for her.”

Peggy pursed her lips. Daniel didn’t get to complain. Not after he’d gone and kissed her like that. It was the least he could do. “Do you think they’ll let me have Minnie too? Or are they going to be terribly narrow minded about all this.”

“Given the leverage Ayame has on them, I’m willing to bet they’ll let you do whatever you want.” Less charitably, they’d probably also see her hiring mostly women as ‘keeping the cost down.’ If they couldn’t see that she was picking up the worst utilized, most talented people from around the field, that was just their prejudices blinding them.

Whatever she wanted. The scope was intimidating. They didn’t even have a name yet. It had been a topic of conversation, but none of the men had been able to agree and Peggy had found all of their acronyms faintly ridiculous. “Would it be crazy for me to name it for you? The old you, I mean. If you hadn’t come back…” The pain of loss mixed with the relief of his return, making it hard to keep going. Peggy pushed on. Here, she might have that relief, but outside this apartment, the loss needed to still be real. “It would have been your legacy. A continuation of the work you did during the war.”

“The work we did during the war,” Grant corrected softly. Just managing to stop himself from kissing her. It was practical, pragmatic, and the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to him. They might not be back where they were. But when she said things like that it felt so close. “And I would be honoured if you named it after our legacy.”

Our legacy. They had been good together. Still were in many ways. She tucked herself against his side, snuggling in under his chin in a way she probably shouldn’t if they were just friends. Still, his arms went around her as if it were natural. She wasn’t sure she wanted to marry him. But she didn’t want to do this without him on her side. Avoiding him the last few days had been its own form of misery. She wondered if this was what Barnes had felt like when they had given him his new arm. Excruciating, and like she was whole again all at once. “What are we going to do with you?”

“I don’t know.” Grant trailed his fingers up and down her arm as he thought. They’d given him photography as a hobby. A way to keep his art alive. And he’d liked it. The past few days, traveling across the country, taking pictures of everything and anything. Maybe he could do something with that. “Journalism, maybe?”

A journalist. She couldn’t see him as one of the sport coat clad creatures with pencils tucked in their hat bands, peppering politicians with questions. As one of the men they had known during the war... That was a better fit. Not the ones that had filmed the news reels. But the ones they’d met in Paris. The ones that had worked alongside their unit and Jack’s. Whose weapons had been pen and camera rather than guns. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to be covering the church bazaar?”

Because he wouldn’t be. That had never been the life for him. Even before, when his dream had been to follow his art. Illustrations would have paid the bills, but he’d wanted to paint the real world too. “I want to take pictures of things that matter. Things that change the way people see the world. Real things. I know it would take me away a lot, and you’re going to be working long hours. It’ll be hard when we have kids. But we can…” He didn’t know what. They were smart; between the two of them, they’d figure something out. “Get a nanny or something?”

Peggy sat back. Curling her feet under self-consciously. She wanted the warmth of him against her, but this was too important for misunderstandings born of seeking comfort. “What if we… don’t?”

Grant shook his head. “It’s too much for you all on your own, Pegs. You know how you are about your work. Especially if I’m away… Sixty or more hours in the office and running a house? No one could do it on their own.”

“No.” Peggy wasn’t sure why she was having so much trouble coming straight at it. She’d blurted the problem out to Steve readily enough. “What if we didn’t have a reason to hire a nanny? What if we simply… don’t have children.”

This was ridiculous. She hadn’t even agreed to let him court her again, and here she was, agonizing over children. They’d never even gone dancing and she was plotting out what their entire life together looked like.

“I can’t do that to you, Pegs. Take motherhood away from you just ‘cause I have wandering feet? It wouldn’t be fair.” Maybe his having wandering feet at all wouldn’t be fair. He’d left her more often than not during the war. And after… She deserved a partner who would be with her for the hard parts. Not flitting in and out at his own convenience. Someone who would be home to take care of her after those sixty hours in the office.

Peggy couldn’t help smiling at her sweet boy. A soft, almost sad expression. Even now, he was so devoted. “You’re not taking anything away from me.”

Grant reached across the couch to stroke her cheek. She felt that way now. But that was now. With the overwhelming future spreading before them. Someday, she’d look back at all the little things they’d missed out on because of the big. He didn’t want her to resent the choices he’d forced on her. “You love kids.”

She did. Peggy had always thought she’d make a rather marvellous aunt. Bringing gifts and sweets. Leading games and telling stories. She’d just never particularly wanted to be the one to wipe noses and bottoms. “I’ve never wanted to be a mother.”

Grant dropped his hand from her face. Curling his fingers around hers instead. Her hands were rock steady. All that contained confidence he loved on display. “You’re sure?”

She was. She was as sure as she ever had been about anything. She’d been sure since before she’d run out on her wedding with Fred. The only thing that had ever given her pause on the matter was… him. And even there, it hadn’t been for her happiness, it had been for his. “Am I taking it away from you? Being a father?”

“I get you? I get work that matters? I get the best friends a guy could ask for and a little bit of intrigue on the side?” Grant turned that future over in his mind. The pros and cons. The shape of it compared to the one he’d imagined before. The picture might not be the same, but the edges still fit. “I think I can live without kids for all that.”

Peggy could feel her breathing speeding up. The urge to press into that warm embrace nearly overwhelming. She jerked back before she could climb into his lap. “I—I have letters I should write. Proposals to draft.”

“Yeah, of course.” Grant leaned back. That had been a big personal conversation. One that assumed a lot of things that they hadn’t confirmed yet. He wanted that future. One where he came home to Peggy and shared in her success. But Peggy still had concerns. He’d said he’d wait. And he would. But damn he liked the sound of it. “Let me know if you want me to proofread anything.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll take you up on that. I just need to...” Peggy trailed off. Mind working a mile a minute to come up with a list of everything she needed. Budget. Personal proposals. Mission statement and outlines for early actions.

Grant hated watching her walk away. Loved the determined stride and the set of her shoulders. Hated that it meant she was out of arm’s reach. “Pegs?”

She stopped and turned back to him. Her complete inability to keep him at a respectful distance when he looked at her like that was what had gotten them into trouble last time. “Yes?”

“We still on for lunch next week?” Grant wanted to take her out. Date her the way they’d never really been able to. Start at the beginning. Really get to know each other again. Have smaller conversations to go with these big ones.

Lunch. Even the idea of it had felt overwhelming yesterday morning. But what was a casual meal in the face of being responsible for protecting an entire nation from unimaginable threats? “Will you share your egg cream?”

“Nope. But I might let you have a fry or two. As my friend.” His friend that he had basically planned out a whole life with five minutes ago. No kids so the two of them could both focus on careers. Traveling the world, coming home to support Peggy. It would be a good life. Question was, was it just a dream or could they really have it?

Friends.

The word rankled more than it had the last time he’d used it. The last time, it had felt like a compromise. A way to keep him close without letting him get close enough to hurt her again. This time… It still felt like a compromise. A half measure she had agreed to in order to avoid making a decisive decision.

Peggy licked her lips. She hated feeling indecisive. “How is your cold?”

“My what?” Grant couldn’t quite breathe. Peggy was looking at him like he was a steak, and she was a starving wolf. He knew that look. That look used to be permission to drag her into a broom closet and give her whatever she wanted and needed.

That was enough of an answer for Peggy. She gave up on her careful reserve. Pouring herself into his lap and burying her hands in his hair. Forgoing the soft, sweet kisses he’d been stealing for the deep devouring she’d craved since his lips had touched hers again. It was different, so very different, from her last kiss. Daniel had been trying to press all his emotions into her, and Grant was too. But where Daniel had been demanding she take those emotions and reciprocate at all costs, Grant’s kiss was an invitation. There was a softness, for all his body was hard against hers. As if this kiss, series of kisses, this chaotic breathless thing that she had started, was a proposal he didn’t know the answer too. The decision entirely in her court.

And it was wonderful. She felt powerful, but not like she had to balance the entire world herself. She also felt completely and utterly breathless. Possibly because of the enormity. Possibly because she hadn’t actually stopped kissing Grant for anything as meaningless as ‘air’ for what felt like hours.

Her head dropped to his shoulder, and Peggy took a slow breath to fill her achingly empty lungs. The air filled with nothing but him.

“I don’t want to rush you,” Grant breathed. Completely unable to stop his hands from roaming her curves. God. That kiss. That was the kiss he’d needed. All the ones he’d thought had felt good, had been pale imitations of the full intensity of Peggy.

“You’re not.” Peggy nudged her nose against the scruff of his beard. She did like it. Dark and thick and surprisingly soft. She wondered how it would feel against other areas of her skin.

“I love you,” Grant whispered. The weight of her in his lap completely intoxicating. God, he’d missed her.

Peggy didn’t know if she was there yet. But she was here, and she certainly didn’t want to be anywhere else. “I want you.”

“You’ve got me, Pegs.” Grant spread his arms, leaning back into the couch to give her access. Let her take the lead. “However you want me.”

However she wanted him. A heady proposition for an impulsive decision. Not on the couch. She wanted to do this properly. The way they’d so rarely been able to before. “I want you in bed.”

Standing with Peggy in his arms wasn’t as easy as it once had been, but it was still more than doable. And Grant wouldn’t have put her down no matter how impossible the task.

The apartment was small. The front bedroom only a handful of steps from the living room. The door standing open like it was waiting for him and his precious, nuzzlely armful. Who was making it difficult to manoeuvre with her roaming hands and wandering mouth.

He hadn’t bothered to make his bed this morning. He’d be embarrassed, except the blanket laying crumpled at the foot meant there was nothing complicating his laying Peggy out on his sheets. Right where she belonged in his mind.

Not that he got to enjoy the view for long. Almost as soon as Peggy’s back hit the bed, she grabbed his shirt and yanked him down with her. Leaving him no option but to stretch out with her. Wrap her back into his arms and match bodies as well as mouths.

With greedy fingers, Peggy attacked his buttons. Peeling off shirt and undershirt in search of what she knew was underneath. He might not be superhuman the way he had been the first time she’d touched his chest, but he was still too tempting to resist. Still firm and broad under her palms. Still filled with so much heat. He still produced the same shaky sigh when her fingers skated over his abs. Still hurried to peel her clothes off and get his wonderful warm hands on her in turn.

He pulled her deeper into his arms as their clothes fell away. Kissed the curve of her shoulder. The arch of her neck. The soft swell of her breast. All that beautiful, exposed skin. His tongue flicked along her clavicle. Teeth scraped her nipple. Rubbed the roughness of his facial hair against her smoothness. He took great pleasure in lavishing attention on her nakedness.

Peggy pushed at his head and shoulders. Not discouragingly, but encouragingly. She didn’t want him to go away. She wanted him to go lower.

Grant could take a hint. Especially when the hint was to do exactly what he wanted to do. He kissed and licked his way down her body, until he found the mole on her upper thigh. Kissed it the way he had so many times in his dreams. And just like in his dreams, she sighed. Nestling her fingers into his hair and arching into his touch. Presenting him with the feast he’d craved.

His first lick exploded through Peggy’s pent up body. The beard tickled, sending electric shocks dancing over her skin. At his second lick, those sparks started to crowd out reality from Peggy’s vision. A tingle starting in fingers and toes. She had been so pent up and she hadn’t even realised it. She wasn’t shy about taking care of things herself, but there was Angie in the next room to think of, and if she let her mind wander too freely, she ended up… Here. Exactly here, but there had been the horrible bitter taste of loss colouring everything. Now… Now there was nothing but him, and pleasure, and release. She couldn’t have resisted moaning if she had tried. Not that there was any reason to try. They were alone in a way they rarely had been. She could sigh and moan and lean into the pleasure without reservation. Let the only man who’d ever proven to be better than her fingers prove it all over again. And again. And… Peggy lost herself. Let go of every complicated thought and let him drive fear and doubt from her body.

Grant moaned into Peggy as she melted. The taste of her driving him wild. He’d always loved eating her. Feeling her finish on his tongue got him hard like nothing else. Twitching, shivering, tensing, and going supple and loose in his hold.

Slowly, Grant kissed his way back up her body. Taking his time to nuzzle the still heaving side of her breast. Until their bodies were matched again. All her soft nakedness pressed against his hardness.

Reality was still a distant thing. Growing closer, but not back yet. Peggy didn’t want it back. She wanted this. Him. “More?”

“More, Pegs?” Grant’s jaw was a little sore, and he was in actual pain from not touching himself, but if she wanted him to go down on her again, he would. Until his tongue fell off if she asked him to.

“You,” Peggy said more definitively. She wanted all of him. That devotion flooding through her.

That, Grant could do. He fumbled in the bedside table. He had felt silly when he made the purchase, but now he was glad he’d gone out on the limb. Stopping now would be torture and he wanted Peggy to know he supported her decision on children. At the very least, now wasn’t the time to undermine it. Whether she changed her mind or not, and Grant didn’t think she would, now was definitely a bad time for kids.

“Condoms?” Peggy was surprised he had any. She’d been so emphatic about not doing anything like this. She was also glad he did.

“Call me an optimist.” Grant rolled her on top of him. Sitting her back so he had space to get the condom on and giving himself a chance to look at her. Take in the reality of having her back like this even one more time. Skin flushed and dewy. A vision of absolute perfection.

An optimist. Peggy had always liked that about him. She was particularly grateful today, when it meant she didn’t have to either take risks or deny herself what she wanted. She touched the condom. Slowly curled her fingers around his shaft and stroked. Not with intention. Just to reassure herself that this was real. And it was hard and hot in her hand. Grant’s hands wrapped around her thighs equally hard and hot. Encouraging but not demanding.

Her eyes fluttered as she slid slowly down. The size of him hadn’t changed. It was still an effort. And it was still everything she wanted.

Moving started slow. A subtle roll of her hips. Gradually speeding up until she was riding him with as much enthusiasm as she ever had. Her breath racing, blood thundering, sensitive body buzzing. Perfection stretching out into an eternity. Grant gazed up at her with fierce intensity. His hand spread low over her stomach, thumb resting on her clit even as he helped to anchor her. The circular pressure fuel on the fire.

It was enough. More than enough. Peggy’s head fell back, and she screamed. Her climax flooding through and out of her.

Peggy collapsed. Panting with pleasure, as she sprawled next to him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft. Determined that he would follow her into this wonderful blissful place. And he did. Whole body tightening under her touch. She felt him tighten and pulse in her grip. A climax just as violent as hers had been.

The moments after were soft and hazy. Both of them settling back into their bodies. Peggy nestled into the pillows on the side of the bed he clearly didn’t use. Her body was warm. Her limbs were loose. And all the fears he’d driven from her head were starting to creep back in.

“Fuck, doll,” Grant laughed. He was feeling his lost stamina now. A few weeks ago, he’d have been ready to go again already. Pressed her into the mattress and earned himself a third triumph. Now, he needed a bit of a nap, but he absolutely wanted to do that again before morning. “I have missed you.”

“I…” Peggy hesitated, unsure how to vocalise her complicated feelings. She had missed this too. But it had been a terribly rash decision to take it for herself now. “I don’t want you doing anything like that with anyone else.”

“‘Course,” Grant stroked her cheek. He couldn’t imagine anyone else in her place. “I’m not about to step out on my best girl.”

“Even if…” Conflict rolled in Peggy’s gut. She knew it didn’t make sense. She knew it wasn’t fair. It was still what she wanted. “Even if I’m still not ready?”

“What d’ya mean, Pegs?” Grant half laughed. She was naked in his arms. As lush and adoring in bed as she ever had been. “What aren’t you ready for?” It wasn’t like he was asking her to marry him. Yet.

Peggy licked her lips. She just... she wasn’t ready. “What if I’m still not ready for… us…”

“You don’t want to…” Grant trailed off. Peggy’s words not quite meshing with their situation. She was naked in his bed.

“Everything is going to be chaos while we try and get everything up and running. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m being led around by a new beau.” The words tumbled from Peggy, not careful or thought out. There were reasons, good reasons, for her not to do this. All the ones that had made her skip their lunch. That had stopped her from having this back in California. “And—”

“And you’re still mad.” And maybe Grant should have clarified a few more things before letting the woman he’d been talking about having children with take his pants off.

She was. It wasn’t his fault, but she was. “I know it’s not rational. But—”

“Pegs.” Grant stroked her cheek again. A tender touch for her bruised ego. “It’s me. You don’t have to be rational.”

Peggy curled her hand into a fist on his chest. Her wants feeling tissue paper thin. Fragile and filmy. And absolutely vital. “I want to be friends. But I also want this. And I don’t want you to have… this… with anyone else.”

“Are you going to have…” Grant paused, mouth dryer than it had been a moment ago. He wasn’t going to be a jealous ass. Steve had sat him down and explained how much strain that particular flaw had put on his relationships. He could move past it. But he had his limits. “…this… with anyone else?”

Peggy shook her head. The kiss with Daniel had shaken her. Left her doubting that aspect of her life on a number of levels. “I doubt I’ll have the time.”

“Okay.” Grant collapsed back against the pillows. Plunging a hand into his hair. The tug at the roots causing just enough pain to help centre him. “I said I’d give you the space you need. If this is what you need… I’ll make it work.”

“I’m sorry.” She was. She didn’t want to string him along. But equally things couldn’t just go back to ‘normal.’

“And I’m a stubborn idiot,” Grant snorted, studying his watermarked ceiling. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d wait.

Notes:

Hi all.

So I don't think I'm going to be able to stick to a posting schedule for the next little while. This story is not ending to be clear, I'm just going to be a little more sporadic in when things go up. Thanks for coming this far with me and I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the journey

😘

Chapter 39: Sound Foundations

Starting a new agency was every bit as much work as Peggy had thought it would be. None of the work from the SSR disappeared, and new things seemed to pile on top of it faster than Peggy could get through it. They lost more staff than she was expecting, poached by other agencies and military departments, but also to the private sector. Some of them, Peggy knew, had only left because she was in charge. And she didn’t give a single solitary flying flip that they had. If they didn’t have the flexibility to deal with following a woman, they didn’t have the flexibility to be truly good agents. She wanted people who were capable of creativity and lateral thought. Who could follow rules and equally find ways to work around restrictions to achieve a goal.

The atmosphere when she passed through the bull pen had changed. If it wasn’t perfectly respectful, at least most of the side eyes had stopped. A little skepticism was fine. The only thing she needed to prove herself was time.

Well, time and a few successes, the first of which she was potentially carrying. A slim but promising folder.

She stopped outside Thompson’s half-finished office; the door was ajar, but he didn’t usually close it at all if he was just working. One of her theories for success was encouraging the people under them to come to their leadership when they had ideas. To that end, they had to be available. He left his door open in invitation if he wasn’t working on something highly classified, and she kept office hours like a college professor.

He was there. She would have been sure of it even if she couldn’t hear the muffled sounds of voices on the other side of the door. Peggy shifted closer to the door in an attempt to make out their words.

*****

Agent Martines wanted something. What, Thompson wasn’t sure. He’d come in and closed the door, but so far, he hadn’t gotten to the point so much as shifted awkwardly on the other side of the desk while Jack reviewed his report and signed off on it. Which had to be done, but didn’t require a closed door, or anything like settling in.

Martines shifted from one foot to the other. “Chief—”

“It’s deputy director now.” Thompson corrected without looking up.

“Exactly.” Martines pounced on the correction. “You can’t be alright with this. Do you know what she has on them?”

Yeah. He did know what leverage she had used. He also knew that she would have been the best choice even without that leverage. “What’s your issue, Martines?”

“She’s…” He sputtered out at the end of the word. Eyes darting around the office like the answer was written on one of the walls.

Thompson could see where this was going. “She’s done something wrong? You have an issue with how things are going since she took over? You’ve spotted a problem that I haven’t.”

“No,” Martines muttered, not meeting Thompson’s eyes anymore.

“Then what is it, Martines.” Thompson put down his pen, looking up at one of his best agents. Because good at his job or not, if he couldn’t work under Carter, he wasn’t going to make it here and wouldn’t live up to his potential.

“She’s a woman,” Martines finally blurted out.

There it was. Martines wasn’t the first of the men to try and bring it up. And there was a time Jack would have had the same reservations. That had been before everything with Frost and Masters. Now it was his turn to teach others so that they didn’t have to find out the hard way like he had. “She’s the director of this agency and deserves your respect. You can’t manage that because she wears the wrong kind of shoes, I’ll write you a letter of recommendation for somewhere else. You don’t want to leave, stop thinking of her as a woman, start thinking of her as someone good enough at strategy and logistics that Captain America deferred to her.”

Martines’ mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to grasp Thompson’s words.

Thompson tossed the report back across his desk. “Report looks good to me. I’ll add your stakeout to the field work requests.”

*****

That seemed like as good an opening as Peggy was going to get, and she wasn’t about to slink back to her own office to spare Martines’ feelings. Not when there was work to do. She knocked sharply on the glass. Counting to three in her head before opening the door to give them both a chance to compose themselves.

She had to admit, they both did an admirable job of looking as if nothing was wrong when she entered the room. An excellent sign. She wanted agents who could hold a reasonable poker face. “Deputy Director Thompson, I need a word.”

“‘Course.” Thompson gestured at the second chair that Martines hadn’t been bold enough to take. “We’re just wrapping up here.”

“Is that the Rochester report?” Peggy smiled reassuringly. Best if Martines didn’t feel cornered or attacked. She didn’t want to lose her entire staff. “I’m looking forward to reading that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Martines stood at stiff attention. “We’re just waiting on the photos to be developed.”

“Wonderful.” Peggy stepped to the side to give him access to the exit. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

Martines didn’t quite scuttle from the room. But his dash for the door did have a tinge of a skitter to it.

Peggy closed the door softly behind him. “You don’t have to defend me.” But it was sweet of him to do it so vehemently.

Thompson leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t like having to. “You don’t have time to be the only one doing it.”

There was that. Speaking of, they had time-sensitive work to do. She held up her precious folder. “Do you have time to go over the specification of our first non-SSR mission?”

“Absolutely I do.” Thompson was absolutely ready to do the part of the job he liked and was good at, and leave the rest to her.

*****

At the three-month mark, Peggy was starting to settle into her role. The New York office of the SSR had been shut down. The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division was officially up and running. She’d gotten her way with the name. Possibly because of patriotic fever. She absolutely loathed the temporary insignia they were using. The shield Steve had used during his propaganda tour, topped with an absolutely garish eagle. But that was a problem she would deal with after her position was secure. There were larger problems to solve before sorting out aesthetic concerns.

She had lost more resources than she had expected. Anything shared between SSR offices had been requisitioned back to the offices that were still SSR.

It was fine. Peggy would make their shoestring budget look like a prince’s allowance. How was admittedly a question. Her changes to staffing had dropped their payroll and upped their competence. Which didn’t solve the more material shortages, but that was just a matter of bridging the gap until she proved that she was capable of managing all of the aspects they had taken away, or that she didn’t need them. Or until she recruited Howard, and everyone started throwing money at them hand over fist. Yet another problem she needed to solve at some point in the future. Her mental list of ‘to be solved later’ was getting rather unwieldy. Possibly too long to hold solely in her head. Writing it down felt like admitting vulnerability.

She was a swan. As far as anyone she worked with or for needed to see, she was gliding through it all effortlessly but deliberately.

And she had Grant to complain to, so no one else saw what it cost her.

They had their lunch on Wednesdays, religiously enforced by Grant. Peggy stopped by his apartment two or three evenings a week. Grant had been wonderful about her reservations, and the responsibilities placed on her by her new job. Treating her as a friend. Respectfully platonic while they ate dinner and talked about her day. Then he’d take her to bed and wring every ounce of physical tension from her body.

In fact, she had ended up so wrung out that she had slept over last night. Dashing back to the penthouse with barely enough time to change and rush to the office before nine o’clock. She couldn’t even be irritated at herself for spending the night. Not when it had been the best night’s sleep she’d had since she’d officially started as director.

She’d started the day clear-headed and with a purpose. Possibly too much purpose given that all she was doing today was reviewing staffing. With the reshuffle, there had been calls from several other agencies asking to steal people. Some of whom she’d been loath to lose. Others… Well, she’d let Hoover have Whitman with her blessing.

Thompson tapped at Peggy’s doorframe. They were going ahead with the office renovations for him, which left him mildly adrift at the moment, but he was doing good work out of the conference room. Approving mission specs and sending out teams. And he finally had something to show for it. He waggled the file enticingly. “Got our first real report back.”

Well now. That was more interesting than staffing review. Peggy shoved the papers on her desk back into her inbox to make space. Patting the centre of her blotter as soon as it was clear. “Let’s take a look.”

******

It wasn’t the best report she’d ever seen. The written report their agent had sent back was faultless. Peggy might have taken more interest in the personalities of the staff rather than just the numbers, but then that was where she’d found the most personal success with infiltration. Other agents had other experiences. And she couldn’t deny what he had provided was perfectly textbook. It was the photos that brought the whole thing down. He’d been observing from a distance to avoid detection. Taking photos through a long lens on a bright day. And it showed.

“Do we have anything clearer?” Peggy frowned and squinted at the image. “I can’t make out anything through all this sun artifact.”

Thompson crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like it any better than she did. They weren’t useless, but they weren’t useful either. “We’ll have to send him back in. Get new shots.”

“Or you could use polarised light. Cut out the interference,” Grant said from the doorway. Not that he’d been reading too many photography books lately. But he had information that would be useful and didn’t see why he wouldn’t share it with Peggy.

Peggy started at the unexpected voice. Swivelling around to find Grant standing in the door of her office. As casual as if he belonged there. “What are you doing here?”

Grant slouched a little further into the room. Pegs was adorable when she was surprised, and it happened so rarely that it always felt like a treat. “Lunch, remember?”

She hadn’t. Or she had, but she’d lost track of what day it was. “That doesn’t explain how you made it past our defences.”

Grant shrugged. He might be retired from this line of work, but he still had some connections. He’d waited at the automat for an hour before he’d decided to force her hand on the matter. “Rose let me up.”

Of course, she had. Because he was him. Peggy hadn’t had a choice but to let Rose in on their secret, she would have figured it out the moment she laid eyes on him otherwise. “I’m going to have to have a stern talk with her about who does and does not have security clearance.”

“Before or after I get my reuben? ‘Cause I’m starving.” They both knew how that conversation would go. Peggy would tell Rose off. Rose would say all the right things to make it sound like she understood. Then she’d keep waving Grant through because someone had to convince Peggy to stop to breathe.

Now that he mentioned it, Peggy was a little hungry herself. A quick look at the clock left her guilty as well. It wasn’t just the day she’d forgotten. It was the time as well. “Angie is expecting us, isn’t she?”

“Is it weird that I talk to your roommate more than you do?” Grant shoved his hands into his pockets innocently. Of course, Angie was expecting them. She’d been the one refilling his coffee while he waited for Peggy. Laughing away her comments about him being stood up with the argument that he and Peggy were just friends. Which was true, and he also understood why Angie only half believed it. “I think it might be weird.”

“Oh, hush.” Peggy knew she had been working long hours of late. Angie had still been asleep when she left for work every day this week. But then, Angie was on the lunch and dinner shift since the close of her show. She slept late. As for her already being asleep when Peggy arrived home… well half of that was his fault. She arrived for dinner at his apartment at completely reasonable hours. He was the one who kept her busy ‘til all hours. “Let me get my coat.”

“What about you, Thompson? You want a sandwich?” Grant offered magnanimously. He was Peggy’s second-in-command. The person she worked with most closely. He should at least try to be friends with him.

“Rain check.” Thompson had seen how much Grant and Peggy flirted when he picked her up from the office. He didn’t want to see how much worse it was over lunch. Peggy said they were just friends, but Jack believed it about as much as he believed the illegible photos were nothing. “I need to find some polarized lenses.”

As for whether Grant Carter was good enough to be more than friends with Director Carter, the jury was still out.

Grant leaned against the edge of Peggy’s desk. Adjusting the landscape photo that sat next to her blotter. One of his, a half decent shot of the Rockies she taken a shine to. “There’s a photography shop over on Ninth that I like. If they don’t have them, they’ll know where you can get them.”

“Thanks for the tip.” They might never be friends, but Thompson could see why Peggy liked him. And he had to admit, Grant was about the only person who could get her to stop working.

*****

The thing about their lunches rather than their dinners, was they couldn’t talk about Peggy’s work. Which meant Peggy was subjected to one hour a week where she couldn’t think about it at all. She and Grant were friends. Good friends. Which meant she had to carry her side of the conversation. They talked about art, music, cinema. Grant’s photography and his efforts to find someone who would buy the finished pictures. The exploits of Grant’s neighbours. The things that had happened during Peggy’s commute.

During the walk to the restaurant, the topic was the weather. Surprisingly blustery for November. Looking like it was going to be a hard winter. Peggy wanted to be out of Howard’s apartment by the time the weather really hit. Somewhere closer to the office. She appreciated that Grant didn’t mention that he had a two-bedroom apartment that was notably closer to her office, having moved himself for similar reasons during the last month. His first apartment had been practical, but not convenient once his routine was established or particularly comfortable. His new accommodations were both.

Instead, he offered to walk around with her to look at places. A pleasant addition to what would likely be a miserable ‘adventure.’ She didn’t have a reference from her last landlady for obvious reasons. Howard writing up something to say she was a respectful houseguest would do more harm than good. She didn’t even have a male relative in town to co-sign for her, which limited her options even further. Angie had family in the city. If Peggy could locate a reasonable two bedroom, she might move with her. Peggy could cover most of the rent in exchange for the favour. She’d gotten as raise along with her promotion. Not the same money she was sure they’d have given Thompson for the post, but enough money that they could live comfortably. Certainly, she and Grant had solved bigger problems with less.

“You found her!” Angie gasped in mock surprise as Grant held the door for Peggy.

Grant beamed at Angie. It was good to have someone else around to help tweak Peggy’s tail. She got too serious if you didn’t make her laugh regularly. “Had to drag her out kicking and screaming, but I found her.”

Peggy had mixed feelings about how well Grant and Angie got along. It felt rather like being ganged up on. “I’m not nearly as bad as you make me sound.”

“Sure you aren’t, Pegs.” Grant took her coat and let her settle at their usual table first. “That’s why when Angie brings over your food, it won’t be cold.”

“Cruel.” Peggy batted at his shoulder as he sat down. “You’re just cruel.” Although he had pre-ordered her favourite sandwich, so she didn’t have to wait to eat, so he might not be entirely evil.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. office was only a short walk from the restaurant. When he had left to fetch Peggy, Grant had promised Angie that he would be back in fifteen minutes. He’d also left enough money on the table to cover not just the coffee he’d been nursing while he waited, but their usuals too. Pegs could pay him back. He was still sticking to his guns on going Dutch if they were going to be just friends, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t speed things along.

Grant watched Peggy as she pretended she wasn’t moments away from shoving her entire sandwich in her mouth. She was clearly starving. Partly his fault. He’d been so busy with his ‘breakfast’ that he had run out of time to feed her before she left for the day. And he knew her, she probably hadn’t bothered with anything other than black coffee once she’d made it to the office.

He toyed absently with his fork. He did have a news that would distract her at least a little. He hadn’t exactly spent his morning sitting around either. “Sold a couple of pictures today.”

“Oh?” Peggy beamed across the table. Now that was a much happier thought than reports with unusable photos.

“Just stock stuff. Nothing really interesting, but it is a foot in the door,” Grant shrugged. It was exciting, and it was totally normal. He’d sold a fair amount of work before the war. Not loads, but enough. This was like that. Not the art he knew he could make, but an income.

Peggy reached across the table to squeeze his forearm. The artist he was always meant to be, rather than the fighter he’d been forced to. “It is something.”

*****

Really, Peggy needed to stop working till midnight. Getting as little sleep as she had been the past couple of weeks couldn’t be good for her health. She couldn’t afford shorter hours. Not right now. Yes, the committee had given her a six-month probation, but they had also indicated that if they weren’t keeping her on after that they wanted to have someone ready to step in. Which meant the senator coming to New York “just to check up on things” wasn’t just a check in. It was her review. Unofficial and overtly casual. But this was when she either proved her worth or got replaced. If she fell short, her dream would die a slow painful death over the following months. Which meant being perfect for this visit.

Making it all appear effortless. Even if she was killing herself behind the scenes. She was a swan.

The coffee in her mug had gone cold hours ago. She could freshen it, but if she left her office, she would have to explain to the night agent why she was still here. She didn’t particularly want to explain that she was double checking everyone’s reports. They were fine. She had only made a handful of minor corrections. But if she didn’t check them all, she was sure the senator would pull the one file that had a glaring mistake. Her budget was tight at least. She hadn’t replaced most of the agents she had lost during the early attrition and those that she had, had mostly been with much cheaper female staff. She didn’t love paying the women less, but that was a problem for after she could rock the boat with impunity. Next year or the year after. This year, she would do everything precisely the way they’d want her too. Excel at their game so that she could play her own.

And then there were all the issues with the physical office she needed to find solutions for. The staffing decimation had left the bullpen looking like a ghost town. Her file review had led to boxes stacked almost to the ceiling in the hall. The renovations that were supposed to create a functional office for Jack had been done for weeks, only for the smell of smoke to lead Jack to checking the wiring behind the light switch and discover that all of it was garbage. He was back in the conference room rather than work in the dark or risk a fire. Facts she would need to either cover up or fix before Monday.

A commotion in the bullpen interrupted her spiralling thoughts. Her night agent trying to stop someone who didn’t belong but that he didn’t want to injure straight off the bat. Peggy set down the folder she was reviewing. Easing gently to her feet, her hand straying towards the top desk drawer where she kept her service revolver.

Agent Herman half tumbled through her office door. Visibly panicked. “Director Carter, I’m sorry I-“

Peggy’s hand dropped away from the drawer with her gun when she spotted who was behind him. She needed the bottle of whiskey in the drawer below far more than she needed a weapon.

Dum Dum pushed past the flustered man. Throwing his arms wide. Moustache turned up in a smile. “Peggy goddamn Carter.”

“Dugan!” Peggy lit up. Now there was a friendly face. She had written less than a week ago. Her letter must have had wings to have reached them all the way in the field, let alone for them to make it back to New York.

“It’s alright, Herman. I’ll take it from here.” She gave her agent a nod of dismissal. He’d done his job. Very few people could put up more than a token resistance in the face of the Howling Commandos.

Pinky watched their would-be interceptor retreat back to his desk by the night phone. “He seems edgy, you sure he’s going to last?”

“In his defence, you’re early.” Peggy traded welcome cheek kisses with Monty. “I didn’t have a chance to tell anyone you were coming.”

Not even Thompson, although he knew she wanted them. She had been going back and forth on whether to ask before she had the official blessing, but equally, she’d known she wouldn’t get that blessing until her probation was over. But if she didn’t have them, her argument for why she could do this job better than anyone else was significantly weaker.

She had worried that she had left it too late in the end. Grant had attempted to point out that even if they showed up after the senator’s inspection their arrival would underscore her suitability. And he was right, no matter when they showed their support for her, it would have lent her credibility.

Still, she was glad they were here now. There was nothing like reinforcements to boost one’s confidence.

Gabe shrugged. She called, they answered. He’d thought they’d made that clear. “We caught an early flight.”

“Caught an early flight, or made an early flight?” Peggy suspected the latter. And that the making of the flight involved activities that bordered on insubordination. Not that Peggy was about to gripe about a little thing like that the way she was sure the people currently tasked with their command would. Their ingenuity and determination were why she adored them.

Oh, it would be so good to have a truly competent away team.

“Cap taught us how to be convincing.” Dum Dum traded a wink with Morita. So maybe they’d had to add a few papers to the Airforce base commander’s desk. Colonel Smith would have signed them. He’d been busy, they didn’t want to bother him.

“Menaces all of you.” And Peggy wouldn’t trade a fragment of that chaos for anything in the world. She let Happy have his turn at a hug. More grateful to have them here with every moment. “Let me give you the tour.”

*****

Peggy could still remember her review after her first official mission for the SSR. After things had expanded beyond their initial scope and what was supposed to be simple information gathering expedition had turned into her breaking a high-ranking German scientist out of his castle prison and smuggling him back across the lines. She had gotten shot twice in the shoulder, and her interrogation afterwards had still been the most intimidating aspect. Today was more of the same. She was right. She was doing her job well, better than anyone else could. The decisions she had made might not be exactly those that someone else would make, but she could defend every one of them. Cutting the Vincenza investigation. Continuing with Maxwell. Sending a man into the facility in Buffalo, not sending anyone into the suspected facility in Arlington. All of them were made with a clear head and an eye to the facts both known and suspected. Risks had been weighed and accounted for. Assets and resources carefully allocated to avoid waste.

Which didn’t change the fact that she was standing to attention while a man who hadn’t been on the ground or even questioned her rationale picked apart every detail. Attempted to poke holes in every decision. Credited Thompson with anything he thought was actually a good idea. Credit to Jack, he had differed all that praise towards her. To the point that she’d been forced to volley it back when things had been his idea. Leading to a circle of ‘I couldn’t have done it without you’ and ‘your expertise on the matter was invaluable’ that Peggy found frankly cloying.

There weren’t that many holes the senator could find to pick in the first place. All things considered, they were doing excellently. Down a third of their staff with barely a hiccup in closure rates. She had met or exceeded every expectation set for her. And the desks immediately outside her office were occupied by the most decorated and respected squad from the war. All of whom would sing her praises with the slightest provocation.

In so many ways, the Howling Commandos were her saviours. Between them, Gabe and Monty had finished reviewing the last of the reports and gotten everything back into the file room and neatly organised. Dernier was the only reason Jack’s office had gotten fixed in time, redoing all the wiring that had threatened to set the room on fire. They had cleared the extra desks from the floor, stacking them into a storage room in the bowels of the building. Rearranged everything to use the space better. Lined the walls with pin boards covered in open cases. Her bullpen looked resplendent, rather than desolated. And she had allies she could trust with her life.

Peggy stood at an easy attention as the senator prowled around the office. Her leather folio held level with her waist rather than clutched to her chest. Covering any anxieties with professionalism. There was no reason to be anxious. Everything was going exactly according to plan.

“Acceptable work, Carter,” the senator growled, barely even attempting to hide his displeasure at having to admit how ‘acceptable’ her work really was. “I’ll have my staff set a date for our final review.”

Such simple but beautiful words. Her final review before the end of her probation. Where she would have to convince not just the senator, but the entire council. A harder task with more hearts to win. And an easier one with some of those hearts already won. She was sure there would be tests after that, but it would be so much harder to dislodge her once she had her foot firmly in the door. “Of course, sir. I’ll make myself and my office available.”

The senator nodded stiffly. Clearly done with this meeting and not nearly as pleased as Peggy was with how well it had gone. He turned on his heel and headed for the door without further pleasantries.

Peggy kept her posture perfectly upright until the door fully closed behind him. As soon as it did, she slumped against the edge of Jacques’ desk in relief. Eyes closed in a silent prayer. The position was hers. Entropy was a hard thing to fight. As long as things were going well, they would either forget or ignore that she was unconventional.

Thompson let his posture droop alongside Peggy’s. Who said interrogation had to happen in a little room with a flickering light. “Excellent work today, everyone.”

Dugan clapped Peggy on the back. That had gone well. “I think this calls for a drink.”

*****

Given the eclectic nature of their usual group, they were somewhat limited for options, even in a ‘progressive’ city like New York. Having to stop her boys from starting a brawl over whether Happy and Gabe could sit with them was not what Peggy considered a relaxing evening. Grant had taken the time to go around the neighbourhood around the office and locate viable options back when Peggy’s poaching the old team had just been an idea. She had appreciated his doing the leg work, almost as much as she appreciated his helping her find her new apartment.

Peggy hadn’t been the one to call Grant and invite him to join them. That honour had gone to Pinky. But she hadn’t objected either. She liked seeing Grant around his friends. Always smiling and happy. Telling them stories about whatever he’d been up to that she was reasonably sure were exaggerated, but couldn’t fault as they were deeply amusing.

He had beaten them to the bar, which wasn’t a surprise. This time of day, Grant was usually at loose ends. His chosen career not following a particularly set schedule. He had seated himself in the back corner of the booth, which made it easy for her to avoid sitting next to him. All she had to do was stall to fiddle with her handbag, and in the milling, she was shuffled into a chair between Monty and Thompson. Which let her settle into the conversation without having to overthink her greeting.

Grant caught her eyes a handful of times as the night ebbed and flowed. Staring into her soul each time he did. Peggy found herself very aware of what his hands felt like on her. How he’d curl his fingers around the back of her neck the same way he curled them around his glass. How he’d lay her back in his bed. His mouth soft and tender on hers. The way he’d whisper praise into her ear. Confirmation that she wasn’t dreaming too big. That she really was as competent as she felt in her own head.

Grant’s warm, rich laugh broke into the fantasy. Peggy snapped back into the moment. She’d been drifting. Completely lost in something miles away from what she should be thinking about. There was still so much work to do. She had three more months before she was even through her probation, let alone all the other reasons they wouldn’t work. Which admittedly, she couldn’t think of in this moment, but that was exactly the issue.

She stood. Heart beating a little too hard in her chest.

“Another round? My treat.” Peggy knew the answer even before she asked the question. Her team had never turned down one more drink. Especially not on someone else’s tab.

“I’ll help you carry.” As soon as Grant voiced the thought, the others made room for him to get up. Parting for him like the Red Sea. “Could use a bit of a stretch.”

Peggy wasn’t about to be churlish and reject the help. Even if she had been hoping to use the moment away from the group to clear her mind and his coming along would only cloud it more.

Still, she smiled back when he smiled at her companionably as they made their way to the bar. Even managing to keep herself together when he leaned against the bar next to her while she ordered.

It wasn’t until the bartender left to fetch their drinks that it really hit her. Peggy shifted from foot to foot. For some reason, more nervous now than she had been during the senator’s scrutiny. She was used to Grant’s bulk next to her. It was familiar. So why did it make the back of her neck prickle tonight? It was like her skin couldn’t decide if she wanted to rub against him or run away.

Grant watched Peggy in the mirror behind the bar rather than look directly at her and scare her off. Something had her on edge tonight. He doubted anyone else had noticed. But good of friends as they were, he didn’t think the rest of the team had spent as much time learning to read her. “Coming back to my place after?”

She hadn’t actually invaded Grant’s apartment in over a week. They’d had their lunch. A slightly rushed affair, if a needed break, but she had been too busy to think about anything physical. And now… If she went back to his apartment after this. Snuck away with him after the celebration the way they used to… “The senator is still in town. I’ll need to be in the office early tomorrow. And—”

“You don’t have to justify it, Pegs.” Grant gathered the newly arrived drinks into his hands. Splaying his fingers to be able to balance all five at once. “It’s a standing offer. Whenever you want.”

He’d left Peggy’s drink for her to carry. Which could have felt like a slight, and instead, felt like his trusting her to be able to handle herself. Whenever she wanted.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She still didn’t know what she wanted. Not the life she had pictured for them during the war, but she couldn’t seem to stop reaching for him. Which was irrational. She had given him up. Moved on with her life. She wanted different things now. Needed different things.

Peggy downed the entirety of her pretty cocktail in one gulp. Raising her hand to indicate that she needed the bartender again. She didn’t want to be the reason Grant spent the rest of his life sitting around alone and lonely. But she had just proven that she could in fact perform her dream job, and she would have to keep proving it over and over again if she wanted to keep it. She knew herself; it would be sixty-hour work weeks for years. She’d never be home. If Grant really pursued the career he was talking about, he’d have to travel which meant he’d never be home. And wasn’t that exactly the sort of thing that led to men finding other outlets for their energies? Peggy would never forgive her future husband for having a piece on the side. Whatever Steve had found with Ayame and Bucky, Peggy didn’t want to share. Or for people to blame her when a wonderful man like Grant fell from grace.

By the time Peggy made it back to the table with a new drink, Grant was back in his corner. Laughing and joking with Morita. Completely at ease and happy. A state she couldn’t even imagine taking from him.

Chapter 40: An Obstacle

Six flawless, at least from the outside, months running S.H.I.E.L.D. and now the whole thing was going to blow up because of something that had happened before the opportunity had ever come up. Not even because of something Peggy had done. It was just too complicated a situation to not at least come close to falling apart. And with Peggy’s position as director, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s existence, and the SSR’s position within S.H.I.E.L.D. all so tenuous to begin with, even the appearance of falling apart was enough to undo her hard work.

Stark had promised to join her just as soon as he finished his film, which would leave her R&D department in the best of hands. Every mission they had run had been a success, full credit to Thompson and the Howling Commandos. The plans to bring the next field office under their banner were well underway with no major obstacles to speak of. Morale was up, expenses were down. And somehow, Peggy was a hair’s breadth from losing it all.

There was basically no one she could complain to either. It was classified, so she couldn’t tell Angie. Thompson was in the same boat she was. Even mentioning it to anyone above her felt like whining. She could have gone to Grant, but she had been relying on him too much of late. Going to him with every little bit of news good or bad was unfair when she was the one placing limits on their relationship. Besides, he’d be all sweet and reasonable. Point out that this was just a speed bump and she would have all sorts of wonderful opportunities available in the future.

Peggy didn’t want other opportunities, no matter how wonderful; she wanted this.

She wanted someone who would understand that. Which had led her here. A lovely gentleman in saffron robes had directed her inside and up a set of stairs rather than to the sitting room she usually visited. To a completely unremarkable wooden door halfway down a corridor. It sounded strangely hollow when she knocked.

“Peggy?” Steve looked breathless when he answered the door. Flushed as if he had been running hard. His hair stood up on the right side of his head, as if someone had been gripping it hard with a left hand. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

Wrong wasn’t the word Peggy would use. Deeply, truly infuriating came closer. Of course, telling Steven would only get her the same answers telling Grant would but without the added kisses and caresses to help soothe her ego. What she really needed was someone who would understand the pressures of being a woman in charge of something as large as an intelligence agency. “I was hoping to have tea with your wife.”

Ayame stepped past Steve. Stroking her hand lovingly down his back as she went. Dressed neatly in a simple cotton yukata. “Let’s have tea.”

Tea was easy enough to come by. There was always hot water and leaves in the Sanctum’s kitchen. Putting together a tray and carrying it through to the sitting room was the work of moments.

Silently, Ayame set the steaming cup in front of Peggy. She’d come all the way down here, ostensibly for tea. If there was more to it than just a pleasant drink, she’d let Peggy come to it on her own.

“The Los Angeles prosecutor isn’t convinced we should move forward. He thinks it will be difficult to find a jury. All he cares about is his conviction rate. Bloody coward.” Peggy took a sip and pursed her lips. The tea was excellent; unfortunately, it did very little to remove the bitter taste in her mouth.

“Does Frost know?” Amy wouldn’t call what she had a full plan. But it was certainly the start of an idea. Somewhere to start solving the problem at least.

“Of course not. She’s the defendant.” Peggy was sure her lawyers had suspicions, but Peggy certainly wasn’t going to confirm them, and neither was the prosecution team. Not until they’d come up with a way to wash their hands completely clean of the scandal.

Well, that made it painfully simple in Ayame’s mind. “Make her a deal.”

“A deal?” Peggy could laugh. What could she possibly have to offer? Frost was rich and well-connected. None of the normal incentives would sway her.

“What she wanted was the science and the respect. You can offer that. You’re the director of a governmental agency. One with a rather healthy R&D budget. No reason it should all go to lining Stark’s pockets.” And Frost liked the science more than the conquest. Offer her security and the chance to work largely unimpeded… getting out of jail would be a fringe benefit.

“Neither of us want her opening another portal for the Zero Matter.” Peggy assumed she’d fail on the portal front, but any attempt was sure to be massively destructive. Although there was always the horrifying thought that she might succeed, and they might have to deal with putting everything back a second time.

“No.” Ayame would be the first to say that was a terrible idea. “But she could do some very interesting things with gamma radiation.”

“I’ll admit, having read some of her papers, I am rather curious what she would make of the miniature radios Stark created.” It would be so nice to be able to talk directly with the support team while you’re in the field rather than having to wait for a leisurely break and having to hold your tongue just right.

Amy sipped her tea delicately. They were getting somewhere. “Sounds like you need to sit down with the prosecutor and talk it out.”

“Work release for the genocidal manic,” Peggy huffed. It was ridiculous that they were even considering it. Even more ridiculous that it was the best option they had.

“She’d be in good company.” More than one genocidal manic had been recruited by the Americans in the last two years and they would recruit even more as the trials went on.

Peggy tapped a nail against the edge of her teacup. She was, wasn’t she. Peggy had been biting her tongue over the plans for Zola and Fennhoff for months, and now there were rumours that they were going to bring Von Braun over as soon as they found an excuse to not execute him at the end of his trial. Thousands dead between them. Whitney’s dozen or so seemed almost quaint by comparison. “And she really is wasted on the silver screen.”

It was a simple solution. But there was the more selfish reason that Peggy didn’t like the situation. One she absolutely couldn’t admit to anyone outside this room. “What if I have other reasons to not want to visit California?”

“That hot dry air is murder on the skin, isn’t it?” Ayame doubted the need to adapt her skin care routine was what was giving the estimable Peggy Carter pause. If anything, her posture reminded Ayame of the horrible weeks immediately after she and Steve had broken up. When she had been furiously looking for ways to avoid him.

Peggy licked her lips. She hadn’t even told Angie yet. She’d say the opportunity hadn’t presented itself, but the truth was she’d actively avoided anything like an opportunity. For more than six months it had lurked in the back of her mind. Ever present and unaddressed. “Daniel kissed me.”

Ayame used the excuse of refilling their cups to cover anything like shock. “Kissed you... fraternally?” It was an unexpected development, but then Peggy was a beautiful woman. It made sense that she would garner the attention of people other than Grant.

Oh, if only she could convince herself that it had been a purely fraternal kiss. If it didn’t make her feel guilty every time Grant kissed her the same way. Or not quite the same way; Grant waited for her to move first and didn’t pressure her for anything more than she was offering. “Passionately. Romantically. There was tongue.”

Amy smothered any hint of surprise under her geisha mask. “Did you want there to be tongue?”

“No! Yes?” Emotions clashed as Peggy let herself be honest about that moment for the first time since it had happened. Ayame wouldn’t judge her. The start of her marriage had been just as complicated. “I wanted him not to be engaged.”

Amy nodded. She could understand that. She’d felt similar regrets in her life. Her biggest one had worked out in the end, but well… there weren’t a lot of men like her boys. “What are you going to do?”

“Talk to him, I suppose,” Peggy sighed. Just the idea made her stomach clench. “I’d rather not lose him as a friend and ally in all this.”

No. Daniel was good at his job. Reliable enough that they didn’t have to worry about Hydra turning him. He saw and understood Peggy’s genius. Apparently to a problematic degree. “Take Grant with you? Make it clear you’re off the market.”

Off the market. Was that what she was? She and Grant were still… complicated. Complicated enough that she wasn’t really in the mood to see what he’d do around actual competition. “I suspect that will just lead to the boys fighting with one another.”

There was that. Ayame loved her husband, and Grant was clearly trying, but the two of them did share a particularly overprotective and slightly possessive streak. “I could go with you.”

“You? Why?” Not that Peggy didn’t appreciate the offer. She could very much use someone who was on her side with no ulterior motives.

“You still don’t have a secretary, and I’m not about to make out with you.” It had taken Ayame years to help Steve see the value of good clerical staff; apparently Carter was going to take a similar amount of convincing.

“Well, alright then.” Peggy wouldn’t want to be the one to tell her husbands, but she wasn’t going to turn down the help. Ayame might have a point, she might need a good secretary. She’d pretended to be one often enough to know the value. It would mean finding someone she trusted, which was the complicated part. “Let’s turn a mad scientist.”

*****

Leaving the next day was an easy choice. Now that Peggy had made the decision, there was no point in waiting. The sooner they got there, the less time Frost’s lawyers had to work on the prosecutor. Their deal only worked if there was a case to bargain with.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was doing well enough that Peggy could leave for a few days. A testament to how much of a shame it would be if Frost was the reason it all fell apart. Jack could keep everything on track while she was in California, and he worked late often enough that all she had to do was swing by the office and fill him in.

Calling Howard to let him know she’d be staying again wasn’t a hardship either. Or rather, calling Jarvis and Anna wasn’t a hardship. The couple were thrilled to have them, but the master of the house was away. Howard had apparently decided he needed more footage for his ‘masterpiece’ and was holed up in the mountains with a starlet and a camera. Peggy suspected the first was getting more of a workout than the second. Probably for the best. Howard meeting Ayame seemed like a questionable idea. Best case scenario, he’d be devastated when he discovered she was married. Worst case scenario, he could lose a limb.

She should probably have called Daniel and let him know that they were coming as well. It was afternoon in California. He’d be in the office. It was cowardly to send a telegram, but that was the option Peggy took. She told herself it was because she was in a hurry, but really, she was just putting off the awkward conversation.

Not the only awkward conversation this trip involved. Peggy was glad she wasn’t the one who had to explain to Ayame’s husbands that they weren’t coming along. She knew how protective Barnes could be, and Steven fretted so. They weren’t doing anything particularly dangerous. Just a conversation or two. Still, she was sure they’d both be huffing and growling at the idea of letting them go without back up.

…She should send Grant a note. Just so he knew he didn’t have to worry about her showing up for dinner for the next few days.

Then she’d write up a few notes for Jack. Just for reference. Pack enough clothes for a few days. And she’d be ready for the first flight in the morning. Once they landed, they would head straight to the prosecutor, and explain what they had in mind.

*****

Peggy wasn’t surprised to find Ayame at the airstrip before her. She undoubtedly valued punctuality as much as Peggy did. She was a professional.

What she wasn’t, was adoringly docile. At least, Peggy hadn’t thought she was. But there she was, standing at her husband’s side, gazing up at him like he’d hung the stars. In a neatly brushed wool coat and silk scarf, hair a lovely shade of black rather than the unnerving silver under her pillbox hat, she looked every bit the dutiful wife being defended by her husband.

And Steve was doing an admirable job playing that protective husband. Arguing with an air steward over something or other. Ayame’s luggage based on the gesturing. And Peggy could see why. The leather suitcase resting at Ayame’s feet was a reasonable size, nearly identical to the one Peggy was carrying herself. But Peggy could understand why the second package was giving the air steward pause. A heavy looking canvas bag, not overly long, but the contents looked ridged and angular. A bundle of swords and armour, if Peggy were to guess. Hopefully a needless precaution, but one that had obviously antagonised the man in charge of loading the luggage.

As she grew closer, Peggy started to be able to make out snippets of the argument. It was definitely about the larger package. Whether it would fit on the plane, who would carry it at the other end of the flight if the lady’s husband wasn’t there. The air steward seemed to think if he kept repeating his points, Steve would eventually relent. Poor man clearly had no idea who he was dealing with.

Finally, it was the air steward who relented. Scooping up suitcase and bundle. “You’ll have to make arrangements at the other end.”

“Don’t you worry about the other end,” Steve bristled defensively.

The steward briefly looked like he wanted to say something else but opted to hurry away with his burden. Making for the luggage compartment where he would no doubt have to rearrange things to make space.

As soon as his back was turned, Ayame’s subservient attitude dropped away. Her entire posture changing. From angelic, to irritable. Proper to predatory.

The change only made Steve laugh and slip an arm around her. His fierce girl. He loved her so much. “I know it drives you crazy.”

“I told you years ago that I’d make a bad wife,” Amy snarled, letting him cuddle her close. It wasn’t even having to be proper and respectable. It was the lack of deference. She was the empress regent of Japan, a bright-eyed Fox who had turned her collar, a goddess, and they acted like she had the intelligence of a child.

“Depends what criteria you’re judging on,” Steve teased, kissing the side of her head. Maybe she wouldn’t be waiting at the door with a cocktail when he got home, but he needed a partner more than he needed a perfect pot roast.

“And what criteria are you using?” Peggy asked seriously. She hated to interrupt, but standing by watching was just as awkward.

“Ability to stop an antidemocratic coup,” Steve replied easily. It was a skill both the women he had loved had in common. One Bucky had too when he was in his right mind. It was a shame their guy couldn’t be here to see Amy off. Sadly, three of them together didn’t exactly blend in. Any pair of them would stand out in this decade. Steve wouldn’t have come himself if he hadn’t thought they’d give Ayame a hard time about her swords. And he’d been right. They’d seen she was ‘foreign’ and a woman and thought they could bully her. Which was also why it had needed to be him that came with her rather than Bucky. Steve could throw his weight around diplomatically. Bucky would have snapped.

“Ready for our trip?” Amy rolled out her shoulders. She needed to relax before they spent an extended period of time in a plane. Maybe she should have suggested they use a portal. The Ancient One was back in Kamar-Taj, so the trip probably would have made her sick, but it also would have saved them significant time. Not to mention frustration with her luggage.

“As ready as I can be.” Peggy was ready to negotiate with Frost. She was less ready to see Daniel and make small talk about his upcoming wedding, or worse, have a discussion about their kiss.

“No point in putting it off then.” Ayame nodded towards their plane. It looked like most of the rest of the passengers were making their way towards the stairs, and her luggage had been loaded.

“None at all,” Peggy agreed. It would be easier once it was over. When she could get back to her office and all the work she had to do there. Nice safe work that she knew how to handle.

Steve tipped Amy’s face towards his. Just another of their countless goodbye kisses. It would only be a moment, and she’d be back with him. Really, he hadn’t needed to drop her off like this. She knew what she was doing, even in a new century. But he’d hated the idea of her standing and waiting for Peggy alone, and he’d ended up having to throw his weight around to get all Ayame’s luggage on the plane anyway; hopefully they wouldn’t have the same issue coming back. “Love you, sweetheart.”

“Home before you know it, Mon Ours.” Ayame smoothed his jacket front. She knew her boys would be alright. Safe in their little pocket out of time. She missed them already.

*****

They couldn’t talk about work on a public flight. Peggy had brought the crosswords she hadn’t been able to get to in the last week, and it looked like Ayame had opted for Vogue. Clearly, they had different techniques when it came to relaxation.

Not that Peggy was doing a very good job of relaxing. The clues in her puzzle were obvious when she read them, she just couldn’t seem to settle down and go through them. Her pen tapped rapidly against the page as her anxieties raced in circles.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her traveling companion page through a fashion magazine. Frowning or folding down page corners in turns. As unruffled as if she really was the proper young wife she appeared to be from the outside. Nothing to worry about but how to look good at her next dinner party and whether the babysitter was going to ruin her baby’s sleep while she was away.

“Something wrong?” Amy asked, without looking up from her magazine.

Several things. Not the least of which were the rolling anxieties around this trip. S.H.I.E.L.D. was still so young. So many people wanted it to fail. Peggy flicked her eyes around the cabin. Everyone near them was either asleep or distracted. She could speak her mind if she kept it quiet. “If this doesn’t work… If she decides she’d rather take her chances with the courts…”

Amy still didn’t look up from her magazine. That was a simple problem. Frost would be a useful asset, but she was only an asset. It wasn’t worth burning the whole operation over her. “If you ask very nicely, I’ll take care of her the old-fashioned way.”

“Does the old-fashioned way involve a bullet to the spine?” Peggy wasn’t opposed on principle, but it was likely to cause issues in the long run. Assassinations were such messy things most of the time. Peggy didn’t want to spend the next decade of her life fending off obsessed fans hunting down the conspiracy.

“No, of course not.” Amy turned to a new page in her magazine. Really, none of the new fashions that were coming out in the next couple of years were a fit for her. It would be a decade before she felt comfortable in her skin at this rate. Which, assuming nothing went sideways, and Peggy didn’t need much help, wouldn’t be all that long for her, but was still frustrating. “It involves a terrible, but unavoidable, hairdressing accident.” Amy flipped another page. She absolutely hated the obsession with wide shoulders that seemed to be in at the moment; she’d look like a line-backer. “Or a sedative overdose. Those are so unfortunately common in the circles she moves in.”

“Let’s keep that under our hat for now.” Although it was nice to know the option was available. They could talk through the finer points if and when they needed to.

“I agree.” Amy turned to a new page. The shoes were rather awful too. She knew there was still a leather shortage, but really, someone could come up with something attractive as well as practical rather than all these heavy chunky wedges. They were just begging for a heel to turn. “Life will be much easier if Frost can jumpstart your computing department. Howard is so distracted by nuclear for the next ten years.”

Peggy squirreled that little detail away for later. She was sure Ayame wouldn’t elaborate for fear of contaminating the timeline. But it sparked some very interesting ideas.

Notes:

Hope my fellow history nerds enjoyed the little historical Easter egg with Werhner Von Braun (German aerospace engineer and one of the more controversial people involved in Operation Paperclip). If any of you are trying to place Fennhoff, he’s from the Agent Carter TV show. The Soviet ‘scientist’ who could hypnotise people.

Chapter 41: Reunion

Despite the New York air steward’s concerns, there wasn’t even a delay sorting out their baggage when they landed. Ayame lifted both bags with ease. The heavy, awkwardly shaped bundle slung across her shoulder looking only slightly incongruous with her elegant suit. Mr. Jarvis was waiting for them with the car, so they didn’t have to worry about fighting for a cab. They got everything packed away before most of the other passengers had their bags.

“I hope your flight was pleasant,” Jarvis smiled at Carter. It was good to have her back. Life without her had been terribly sleepy. He and Anna could use a little excitement. “Anna has the kettle on, and she made a batch of her famous strudel last night.”

Peggy wished she could relax as she settled into the passenger seat. Unfortunately, there really wasn’t time. “That sounds wonderful, but I’m afraid we need to head straight to the office.”

*****

“Peggy.” Daniel jerked to his feet. Suddenly very aware that he’d spilled soup on his shirt at lunch. He’d known she was coming and he’d still let himself look like a slob. “Director Carter, I mean. Hi. Hello.”

“Hello, Chief Sousa.” Peggy didn’t want this interaction to be awkward. They were professionals. Former co-workers who still moved in the same industry circles. There was no reason to act as if they were anything else. The photo on his desk told Peggy that he was still with Violet. Which was good. Peggy wanted to be the reason for relationship strife even less than she wanted this interaction to be awkward. And really, Violet was lovely. Her sweet shining smile speaking to how genuinely kind she was. Daniel’s moment of cold feet aside, she deserved to be happy.

Daniel swallowed. He hadn’t talked to Peggy since she’d walked out on him months ago. Since he’d overplayed his hand, and she’d made it clear how she felt. He hadn’t told Violet about that day. She’d noticed how withdrawn he’d been after, and he’d blamed it on stress at work. It had been stressful. Arresting Frost had caused chaos.

He loved Violet. She was sweet, and smart, and understanding. She supported him. Made him feel strong and competent, even when his leg was killing him.

But having Peggy here... She had so much presence. That amazing aura that radiated off her. He’d almost convinced himself that he’d imagined it. “What—uh—what are you doing here? Your telegram didn’t really…”

“Work, I’m afraid.” Peggy managed a reassuring smile. There was absolutely no reason they couldn’t work together as well as they ever had.

Peggy was rather impressed with the way Ayame disappeared into the background. Men had stopped to watch her walk in the bullpen; with the office door closed behind them, Peggy could almost forget she and Daniel weren’t alone.

Daniel tapped his fist against his desk. Probably should have seen that coming. “So, I’m the first office to get gobbled up?”

“Actually, we’re looking at incorporating Boston next.” Peggy would need to follow up with their chief if an inter-office memo hadn’t been sent out about that. They were due to start the transition at the beginning of next month. The other sections would need to be aware. A worry for after she dealt with their main issue. “I’m here about Frost. Or has the prosecutor not been pestering you the way he has me?”

“What about Frost?” The prosecutor had been pestering. Phone calls, letters, in-person visits, the last of which he assumed Peggy had been spared. Daniel just wasn’t sure what Peggy wanted to do about it. The case was circumstantial. They’d done what they could to trap her, but trespassing wasn’t exactly a capital offence and Frost’s lawyers had shut down every attempt to pin the rest of it on her.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. would like to take custody. A work release program, of a sort.” It almost sounded like a complete and well-thought-out plan, rather than what it was, a desperate Hail Mary to stop her from making another try at taking over the world. Peggy wasn’t thrilled by how half thought out it all felt.

“What, like they’re doing for the Germans?” Daniel snorted, dropping down into his desk chair.

“Exactly like that,” Peggy answered. Back straight, shoulders down. Having a framework was why this had a chance of working. The people Peggy answered to were wild about the idea of having pet scientists to work on their new ambitious ideas. Ones that couldn’t or wouldn’t complain about the ethics of what they were working on. It was concerning in its own right. Once this minor crisis with Frost was taken care of, she might put some thought into getting some of the worst offenders on her books. She cared about the ethics. She wanted certain scientists where she could keep an eye on them. On Zola specifically.

“Peggy…” Daniel didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t like the idea that she was going to walk free either, but that didn’t mean he wanted to share a water cooler. “She’s insane.”

Peggy was very conscious of that fact. Regrettably, she wasn’t only insane. “She’s also brilliant. And more importantly, she’s going to get off scot-free if we don’t do something.”

“Alright.” Daniel leaned back in his seat. He couldn’t argue with that logic. “When do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible,” Ayame answered from her spot against the wall. Drawing it out wouldn’t help anyone. They, Peggy, needed to make decisive moves. Get Frost in hand or get her out of the way. Move on to all the other balls they needed to keep in the air.

“Tomorrow, ideally,” Peggy agreed. The less time she spent away from her real job, the better. There was Boston to think about, and the team they had looking into the oddness up state. Phillips had been making noises that indicated he wanted S.H.I.E.L.D. to take over more of the SSR’s international operations. Not to mention the Chicago and Miami offices to start planning for.

They had a plan, while Daniel had just been sitting here agonising over the fact there was nothing he could do. Which was probably why they’d made Peggy director. “I’ll make the call.”

*****

“Well,” Ayame secured her hat back in place. Stiletto of a hat pin sliding smoothly through her hair. “It wasn’t the most awkward meeting I’ve ever been a part of.”

“I would hate to be a part of—” Peggy’s objection cut off in the middle. It hardly seemed relevant given the developing situation. “Do you see those two men following us?”

“Manfredi’s men, you mean?” Ayame kept posture and pace exactly the same. She had seen them. But letting them know that wouldn’t help anyone.

“I believe there are two more ahead of us.” Peggy tried to make a point of remembering the men she gave black eyes to. It didn’t always work, but she did recognize the prominent orbital bone that had bruised her knuckles.

There certainly were. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. “Should we turn down this lovely alley they’re clearly herding us towards?”

Peggy linked her arm through Amy’s. “Seems almost rude not to.”

Peggy didn’t know what she was expecting. It only made sense that the four men they had spotted would follow them into the obvious trap. That was what made it an obvious trap. She still didn’t love having the cluster of large, presumably armed, men at her back.

A car pulled across the far end of the alley. Blocking off escape. Peggy was very aware that her gun wasn’t in her handbag.

A tall, heavy-set man stepped out of the passenger seat of the car. Another of the men from the restaurant. The one who had broken the table. Peggy thought he had been at the film set when they sprang their trap too. One of Manfredi’s most trusted bodyguards, if not his second-in-command. “The boss asks that you join him for lunch.”

“And if we decline the invitation?” Peggy asked, noting their cut off retreat and the number of advancing threats. She shifted ever so slightly away from Ayame, keeping close enough that they could easily defend each other, but also giving herself enough space to if they needed to move.

“We were told to be insistent.” The man pulled his jacket open, revealing a holstered gun tucked under his armpit.

“I see.” Peggy shifted her weight onto her back foot. She could be rather insistent herself.

Ayame set a hand lightly on Peggy’s arm. “Let’s not be churlish. It’s just lunch.”

Admittedly, Peggy was rather curious what Manfredi wanted. She’d thought he’d be put off talking to them after their last, rather unpleasant interaction. It was just that getting in the car went against every one of her instincts.

Not against Ayame’s, apparently. She strode toward the car with unwavering surety. With only the tiniest pause and flash of irritation when their ‘captor’ failed to open the rear door fast enough.

Peggy followed at a more reserved pace. Next time they needed to talk, Manfredi could come to them. Peggy would rather like to be the one with the bevy of armed men for once.

One of the men who had been following them hurried up the alley to close the door behind them. In the front passenger seat, their captor turned around. Keeping his gun trained on the women as they were closed into the back seat. Subtlety gone now that they were off the street. Peggy didn’t know why. There weren’t any handles on the inside of the rear doors anyway. Where were they going to go?

Out through the front seat, obviously. But she doubted choking the driver out with the strap of her handbag while Ayame rabbit punched their other captor would feel as obvious and logical to the men as it did to Peggy.

Ayame settled into the seat like a queen. As calm and collected as if it were a regular taxi. “Be a good man and stay off Sunset. I loathe getting stuck in traffic.”

*****

They didn’t stay off Sunset, and as Ayame had predicted, they got stuck in traffic. Ayame expressed her displeasure with a single cluck of her tongue. It was nothing, and yet, it was enough for the man guarding them to flinch, his gun moving from levelled at them to aimed loosely at the ceiling. If they were plotting their escape, this was when Amy would make her move. They weren’t. They were joining Manfredi for ‘lunch,’ if only to get more information.

It took them nearly twice as long as it should have to make it from the street outside the SSR office to the restaurant Manfredi used as a front. By the time they did, Peggy could feel a headache coming on. She wanted out of the car with its stuffy, stale cigarette air. Finally they came to a stop and their captor opened the door for them.

Once again, Ayame walked with the confidence of a royal. Implicitly sure that all doors, literal and metaphorical, would open for her. Peggy almost envied that surety. But of course, those doors did open for her. While Peggy needed a different kind of confidence. The kind that let her kick down all the doors that refused to open so readily.

She would admit, it was a nice change to have these usually intimidating men quail before her. She wasn’t even sure they knew why they were doing it. But they ran to get the door.

Amy didn’t break stride as she led the way across the dining room to the kitchen. Taking note of her surroundings without appearing to look around. One of the raised booths at the back had been set for a formal meal. Crisp white tablecloth, gold edged plates, candles just waiting to be lit. That particular table also lacked good access to exits and gave the scattering of men around the room better fire cover than anyone sitting there would have.

She pushed her way into the kitchen instead. Not hesitating to invade Manfredi’s private space for a second time. He wanted to confront them somewhere he felt confident. She’d rather have this conversation somewhere he thought of as safe. And if that space was too confined for his guards to join them, with multiple exits and easy paths for movement, well, that was all the better.

Manfredi shouldn’t be shocked that these two women were unbothered. He’d expected them to be cowed by the surprise. And yet neither of them looked even remotely shaken. They both looked more like they’d arrived by chauffeur rather than kidnapping. As unworried on their own as they had been with three men at their back. At least they hadn’t left anyone bleeding with their arrival this time.

Ayame waited for Manfredi to gesture toward a chair before taking a seat this time. Clearly, he hadn’t been planning to ‘entertain’ them at the prep table again. They had already asserted their dominance by ignoring his preparations, no point in antagonizing him further. Not on that front at least. She suspected he would be antagonized enough by the upcoming conversation.

He extended a hand, inviting them to sit. They wanted to do this here, he wasn’t going to argue.

Well, Peggy was nothing if not one to roll with the punches. She perched herself on the edge of the chair next to Ayame’s. Setting her handbag on the table to make it clear she wasn’t going anywhere. “Thank you for inviting us. Saves us having to try and set an appointment with our busy schedules.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Manfredi was kind of impressed. He knew grown men who had been snivelling, snotty messes at this point, begging for forgiveness and promising him anything. These two acted like he’d just sent a taxi for them.

Peggy smiled sweetly. That was an excellent question. One she had been thinking about on the drive over. Clearly, they needed to take control of the narrative and spin this to their advantage. “We thought you might pass on another message.”

Well then. Manfredi set a bottle of wine and three glasses on the table. “Ballsy of you after last time.”

“You wouldn’t have invited us if you didn’t think we had something to say.” Ayame picked up the wine bottle, filling Peggy’s glass before her own, setting the bottle down without even looking at the third. It was a matter of precedence. She sipped lightly at the wine, giving Peggy the tiniest nod to confirm it wasn’t poisoned. Not a huge risk, Manfredi wasn’t usually that subtle, but better to be cautious.

Manfredi dropped into the last seat with deliberate heaviness. He’d thought he’d have a thing or two to say to them actually. Given their reaction to being plucked off the street, he didn’t think threats were going to work. “So, talk.”

Peggy sipped her wine. She could play coy. Or she could just say it. “I’ve started a new organisation on the East Coast, and I need scientists. Good scientists. Whitney is an excellent scientist, and I don’t think anyone has really utilised that talent.”

“What kind of ‘organisation’?” Manfredi stressed the last word. Making his scepticism clear.

“She’d be doing R&D. Self-directed. The mandate is broad enough that she can choose her area of interest,” Amy supplied. That was all the detail Manfredi needed. Frost could have more if she was willing to play along.

“You’ll pay?” Manfredi assumed they weren’t asking Whitney to do anything for free. Their leverage wasn’t that good. Probably wasn’t good enough for this either.

“Oh, terribly,” Peggy answered honestly. “Nothing like what she’s worth, but more than she’d make at any lab.” Less than what she’d make is she stayed on the screen. But between the senator’s life insurance policy and the residuals from her films, she doubted Frost would want for money. No reason to compete on a field they didn’t have to. Their main selling point was something entirely different.

Manfredi filled his own neglected wine glass. They weren’t doing the best job of selling whatever it was they were up to. And it wasn’t like Whitney had to buy. “Whitney’s going back to a pretty good life when she gets out. What makes you think she wants to trade all that in for another room without windows?”

Well, that was easy. Peggy was intimately familiar with how hard life was when you were hiding your light under a bushel to protect the pride of the men around you. And if windows were the deal breaker, she’d make them happen. “I’m sure you saw it. How much more alive she was working on the problem of the Zero Matter than she ever was trapped in the gilded cage of acting.”

“And you’re going to give it back? After everything you went through to take it away from her?” Manfredi would admit she’d been more alive. But she also hadn’t been herself at the end. It wasn’t just that she’d had a chance to spread her wings; she’d been obsessed to the point of fanaticism. He didn’t want to see her in a cage, gilded or otherwise. But he also didn’t want to see her fall back into that madness.

“The Zero Matter has been permanently disposed of,” Ayame answered. Trying to hide the terseness that threatened to creep into her voice. She was calm. This was any other opening salvo of a negotiation. No real risk at all. “But we can offer her other resources. A complete lab, all the materials she could want... a German Enigma Machine.”

“A what?” Manfredi had been with them, and now he really wasn’t.

“Tell her we have one,” Ayame smirked. She loved a messenger who didn’t know how valuable the information they were carrying was. It meant the recipient had no choice but to come to her for explanation. Deal making was all about power imbalance. “She’ll know.”

That seemed like as good a moment as any to make themselves mysterious and leave. Certainly, Peggy didn’t want to deal with any follow-up questions Manfredi might have. She stood, tucking the chair neatly back under the table. “We’ll be in touch with Ms. Frost directly. Thank you for the lovely wine.”

“The driver you sent for us is passing information on you, by the way,” Ayame said lightly. Joining Peggy on her feet and smoothing her skirt in preparation to leave. “Unless you’re paying him well enough to afford a Patek Philippe watch.”

The revelation was enough to render Manfredi speechless and give them an opening to walk out without objection. Linking arms and striding across the dinning room. Behind them, Peggy could hear the yelling starting. Naturally, Manfredi wouldn’t be pleased at the accusation, but if it turned out to be true, and Peggy doubted Ayame would make it up without at least some foundation, he just might start to trust them. Which could only be to their benefit. Especially since Peggy had no intention of doing anything like trusting him.

*****

Getting a taxi was never as easy as Peggy would like. In New York, she all too often found herself reliant on the chivalry of men to flag one for her. Unfortunately, she seemed to have the same issue in LA that she did in New York. Standing by the side of a busy road with her hand raised to no avail. Two women on their own were apparently too questionable a fare for anyone to worry about in this part of town.

“I only see one problem with your little ‘offer, ’” Peggy said as a third yellow car drove past her raised hand without so much as slowing. They would have to walk to the streetcar at this rate. An irritating portion of their afternoon lost to travel. Especially with the new problem Ayame had apparently decided to add to their plate.

“What’s that?” Ayame raised her own hand, a ten-dollar bill tucked between two fingers. A cab pulled over for them almost immediately.

Peggy wasn’t going to complain if Ayame wanted to waste her money. Not if it got them back to the office in a reasonable amount of time. “I don’t have an Enigma Machine.”

Not here in the States at least. She was sure there were still one or two examples tucked away in the archives at Bletchley or under Whitehall. But knowing where they were and being able to get access for Whitney Frost to study one were different issues.

“We’ll have to have Dugan pick one up for you,” Ayame answered lightly, sliding through on the back seat so Peggy could follow her into the car. Possession was nine tenths of the law. If they could get a machine into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the government at large probably wouldn’t do more than grumble. “I’m sure we can narrow down coordinates.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to tell me that sort of thing?” The rules as they had been explained to Peggy were clear: the less she knew about the future the better. Even asking questions about the present had been discouraged in case she pieced too much together.

Ayame waved a hand dismissively. She wasn’t supposed to change things, but there were no rules against smoothing things along. There was no point in the Howling Commandos spending weeks wandering the countryside looking for abandoned secret bases. “It’s Austria. They would have stumbled over one eventually. She’ll want to see how they cracked it too. Think you can get your hands on the documents from Ultra?”

“I can write to Marian. He might still have some.” And even if he didn’t, he might be interested in coming to work for Peggy. It would be nice to have a few stable scientists to go along with the maniacs she was apparently collecting.

*****

Regular visiting hours weren’t really a thing for Whitney. She caused too much of a stir sitting in that crowded room full of cramped tables. The rabble all stopping to stare at her. When her lawyer visited, they used a private office. When her agent came to see her, they put on a show. Played the poor, wrongfully accused widow.

When Manfredi came to visit her, like tonight, they ignored official visiting hours and had the whole place to themselves. Just her and Joseph, alone in the visiting room, even the guards giving them privacy. The room itself was still dingy and institutional. The walls with their peeling grey paint, chairs that squeaked and groaned, the tables scarred and always slightly sticky. Even the water in their pitcher was stale, the glasses greasy. The boxy grey dress that was her uniform did absolutely nothing for her figure or her complexion.

It was still better than being locked in her cell all day. As much an animal at the zoo as she ever had been on the screen. Now with terrible lighting and no way to properly set her hair.

Joseph had brought her dinner. Eggplant parmesan and arugula salad. A much-needed change from the slop they served in the cafeteria. And a bribe to soften her up before giving her bad news.

She slid her hand into his. Smiling her sweetest smile. Reassuring him that he could tell her anything. “You seem worried about something.”

Manfredi swallowed. He’d come here to tell her. If only so she knew to expect a visit. “Carter and the other woman are back in town. My man at the airport let me know. I invited them for lunch.”

“And?” Whitney’s eyes flashed. If Carter was back in Los Angeles, it meant something was happening with her case. Either they were going forward with their flimsy case, or they were dropping it entirely. Either way, Whitney could almost taste her freedom.

Manfredi shifted in his seat. Whitney had seemed less manic since her arrest. But every now and then a flash of that too intense energy shone through. “They had a proposal.”

“A proposal?” Whitney was curious. She assumed the proposal was either for or about her. Otherwise he wouldn’t feel the need to bring it up, or to butter her up.

“They want you to work for them. Or Carter does at least.” Manfredi wasn’t sure about the other woman. She definitely had thoughts and opinions on the matter. But she also deferred to Carter and no one he’d talked to knew who she was. The deal had definitely been to work for Carter and her East Coast organisation. “She offered to move you to New York and set up a lab for you.”

“A lab?” That wasn’t what Whitney had been expecting. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. But a lab. It would almost be tempting under other circumstances.

“Yeah—Yes.” Manfredi corrected his grammar. Whitney hated when he didn’t talk proper. “Wants to set you up with all that science-y shit you like and make you invent stuff for them.”

“That was all?” Whitney was surprised. She’d thought Peggy Carter was smart. Maybe the deal would be tempting if Whitney was in danger of being convicted. But she wasn’t. A week, maybe two, and her lawyers were sure they’d have her out. After that, it was just a matter of finding the right screenwriter to turn the story into something Oscar-worthy. She could use it to make the jump to producer.

It wasn’t. But Manfredi didn’t know what the other thing they’d told him about even was. Not the apparently true accusation that Joey was a snitch. He was pretty sure that had been just for him. But the last shot the Japanese woman had apparently thought would be so tempting to Whitney. “They said they had an Enigma Machine? That mean anything to you?”

Whitney snapped to attention. Maybe Carter was smart. “An Enigma Machine? A German Enigma Machine? Is that what they said they had?”

“I think that’s what they said.” He might be wrong. It had been an aside, just as they were leaving and before they dropped their bombshell about Joey.

Whitney licked her lips. An Enigma machine. The perfect German encoding machine. Unbreakable, until the Allies had somehow broken it. Hundreds of billions of possibilities, all controlled by a machine that made engineers whisper. She had heard about it during the war. Those few precious years when she’d been allowed to do something. She’d never been allowed to get anything like close to a real one. Just eavesdropped on a few conversations before the war department had decided she was more valuable make propaganda films than ‘fiddling with circuits’ as they put it, as if she hadn’t fixed all their mistakes. And now Carter was offering to let her have that back. Maybe not the blazing magic of the Zero Matter. But something to keep her brain occupied. She had thought she had all the cards in her hand, but maybe, just maybe, Carter had something worth her time. “When did they say they wanted to meet?”

Notes:

The Enigma Machine was the ‘unbreakable’ code machine that the Nazis used during WW2. The breaking of its code led pretty directly both to Allied victory, and to modern computing as we know it. Thought it would be a fun little nod.

Ultra was the name of the program that eventually broke it and Marian Rejewski was the Polish mathematician that recreated the Enigma mechanism so the Allies could run their experiments.

Chapter 42: Compromise

Peggy was surprised to find Ayame standing on the pool deck with a look of pure and utter horror on her face. Not an expression she had ever expected to see on the usually collected woman’s face. Or one that made particular sense given the apparently completely normal morning. Peggy had slept excellently and was invigorated, more than ready for the challenge ahead of them. “What’s wrong?”

Ayame couldn’t look away from the horror of what was happening under the portico on the other side of the pool. She had largely ignored the makeshift gym on her last visit. A run with Bucky had been a better workout than anything there could provide, and she had assumed Stark kept it mostly for show. Apparently, it was actively used, and not by Stark. “What is he doing?”

Ahh, Mr. Jarvis’ morning workout. Peggy had found it curious if not distressing the first time she had seen it herself. It wasn’t exactly the stiff and practical calisthenics one expected from a proper Englishman. “Judo. Mr. Jarvis is a devoted practitioner.”

“That’s not what that is.” Ayame wasn’t sure what it was, but it bore absolutely no relation to any of the martial arts she was trained in or the schools descended from them.

Well, admittedly he didn’t move with the same fluid grace Ayame did. But he was still learning. “He’s quite good. He even managed to pin me when I challenged him.”

“He’s one wrong twist away from dislocating his shoulder.” And that knee was begging to be swept out from under him. He was off-balance, overextended, and leaving openings that might have been forgivable for a novice in a sparring match, but were unacceptable against a dummy target.

That might be true. He did seem to be overextending. “Mr. Jarvis, is it possible to get some breakfast?”

Jarvis spun around. Stumbling into the sparring target. “Ms. Carter. Of course. Right away.”

Peggy smiled indulgently. He really was the sweetest. Also, very distinctly a noncombatant. One who should never have been forced to see even the limited amount of war he had. She turned back to Ayame, who was very distinctly not a noncombatant. “I’ll want you to show me what that technique is supposed to look like.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Amy was anything but opposed to teaching Peggy how to properly throw a man across the room. Steve had always used brute strength rather than technique. If Peggy kept doing it the same way he did, she would destroy her spine.

*****

Peggy dabbed her lips with her napkin. An excellent breakfast, exactly what she had needed to start her day. Ayame had finished before her, but in their short time together, Peggy had noticed that she preferred a light meal to start her day. “Are you ready for our interrogation?”

“Negotiation,” Amy corrected. Maybe it was largely semantics, but wording was important.

Peggy raised her eyebrows. She had been precise in her word choice. “Anything that happens in an interrogation room is a form of interrogation.”

There was a ring of truth to that statement Ayame couldn’t deny. “Alright. If it’s an interrogation, what’s our strategy?”

“Sit down and talk to her like she’s a human being.” Like an equal. No condescension, but conversely, no deference. Peggy was sure it had been a long time since anyone had treated Frost like an equal, if ever.

“In an interrogation room,” Amy said pointedly. When she wanted someone to feel as if she was treating them like a human, she tended to take them to a café. Something about the harsh overhead lights.

Well, yes. It seemed like the perfect place to Peggy. “I want her to feel respected, not comfortable.”

“You’re confident?” Ayame believed in Peggy’s abilities. But it was more important that Peggy believed in them.

“You were right. It’s simple. We offer her what she wants. She either takes what we have to offer, or we find another option.” Hopefully not anything as brutal as cold-blooded murder. But something.

*****

Peggy refused to be anxious about bringing Frost in. It was one day in the SSR offices, and it wasn’t like she was a flight risk. A few hours of conversation and they would either have a deal, enough progress to be encouraging, or Peggy would be seriously considering Ayame’s alternative solution. It wasn’t nerves that had her pacing Daniel’s office like a caged tiger. It was anticipation.

If this worked, it was the start of a new chapter for S.H.I.E.L.D. She wanted a research section. A good one. And Frost could be an incredible asset on that front. And if Peggy could prove she could make a good deal with her, maybe she could do something about the notable flaws in Operation Paperclip. She wanted significantly closer tabs kept on certain men. She also wanted her agents properly equipped. Their Captain had been an undeniable genius, but Peggy was painfully aware that half the reason the Howling Commandos had been as effective as they had been was their access to the best resources.

No, if Peggy had a choice in what to do with Frost, she didn’t want to neutralise her. She wanted to utilize her. Which meant she had to make things look good. Really sell the deal. Help Frost to see that it wasn’t just her best option, it was her only option. Which might require just a little bit of theatre.

She turned sharply towards Ayame, standing calm and relaxed by the door. “I want you to wait in the observation room. When I give the signal, knock and interrupt us. I don’t want her finding her rhythm.”

Daniel shifted behind the desk. “What about me?”

“You are welcome to observe as well,” Peggy said, returning to her pacing. It was only polite. He was Section Chief here, after all. Really, it was only polite.

Daniel could do that. He could sit by and watch Peggy do all the heavy lifting. He could… it just didn’t feel right. “You’re sure you don’t want—”

Amy rolled out her neck. She hadn’t gotten her morning workout in today or yesterday and she could feel her muscles getting stiff. “You’re from a different agency; unless you’re trying to poach her prospect, I’m not sure how much help you’ll be.”

Peggy appreciated the defence. Ayame’s point was so clear and logical, there was no need for Daniel to look deeper and find other reasons her feelings around being in a small, enclosed space with him might be complicated. And really, she didn’t need anyone in the room whose reaction might give her away if she needed to bluff. “I’m confident I have everything in hand.”

*****

It had been a long time since Ayame had used a two-way mirror observation room. She had been practically a child the last time she had sat in a darkened room, studying body language through a foggy piece of glass.

She perched herself boredly on the edge of the table, ankles delicately crossed. Cameras just weren’t good enough in this decade. Too large to be subtle, too grainy to be useful. She would just have to settle for a single angle. It wasn’t like they were trying to get the nuclear codes out of Frost. This was closer to a high-pressure job interview than a true interrogation. Still, a microphone would have been a nice touch. She could lip read, but tone was such a valuable thing. What she wouldn’t give to do this with all the little things she was used to having access to in her time rather than these rudimentary facilities.

Daniel didn’t like this. He knew nothing was happening yet. Peggy was meeting the marshals downstairs, but Frost wasn’t even in the building yet. Which meant they still had time to change the plan. “You sure about Carter going in on her own?”

“What exactly would you add to the interaction?” Amy rolled her neck, carefully working out the kinks and tightness that threatened to form in her muscles. Once they finished with Frost, she really needed to make time to actually get in her workout.

“I don’t know…” Daniel shifted his weight anxiously. “Back up.”

Amy raised her eyebrows. This was Frost they were talking about, not D26. “She’s a movie star, not a boxing champion.”

And honestly, she’d want Daniel in the room with D26 even less. Men could be so weak-willed in the face of big ‘innocent’ eyes.

“Peggy—Director Carter has been stuck in an office for the last six months. And with her dating the Captain again…” Daniel was fishing. But he was curious. He’d gotten a few updates on how her agency was doing, but nothing about Peggy and her personal life since she had walked out on him. And it wasn’t like he was wrong, she had to have been stuck in the office all day, every day to achieve even half of what she had. Add in a romantic partner and he’d be surprised if she’d had time to breathe in the past few months, let alone practice her interrogation techniques. “She’s got to be out of practice.”

“They’re not dating,” Amy said. It didn’t matter if Daniel got the answers he so clearly wanted. He was in California, they were on the East Coast. “They’re friends, they have lunch together most weeks, and I know Grant would like more. But as of right now, they’re just friends.”

And Ayame should know. Grant had been coming over once a month to bang his head against the table and have her husband reassure him that his patience wasn’t pointless, and he wasn’t a monster for indulging in the physical aspect of their relationship without anything more formal. Amy had put in her two cents, reminding him that if he wasn’t comfortable, he could always tell Peggy and renegotiate. Which he wasn’t willing to do in case he lost what he did have. Ayame could sympathize. She’d clung to what she had thought were her last precious moments with Steve tighter than she should have. She also knew that their lives would have been significantly easier if they had sat down and talked about what the end of their relationship looked like beforehand. She could have explained why she thought he should choose Bucky. Steve could have confessed his fears about losing her. And maybe they wouldn’t have spent months at each other’s throats when they finally had found Bucky.

But it wasn’t her relationship. Grant and Peggy would have to figure it out on their own. Preferably without outside meddling. “How is your fiancée? Violet, wasn’t it?”

Daniel’s jaw twitched. Violet. Kind, intelligent, loyal Violet. “We’re talking about a spring wedding.”

“She’ll look radiant.” Not that ‘spring wedding’ meant much in California. ‘Less rainy wedding’ was closer to the facts, but it would still make for a beautiful day. And they could be happy if they tried.

Finally, the door to the interrogation room opened, Peggy looking brisk and professional as she escorted Frost into the room.

*****

Peggy didn’t even consider chaining Frost to the table. The idea was to make her comfortable. Put her at ease. And really, Frost wasn’t a physical threat. Not without the Aether. Lacking that supernatural advantage, Frost was just a pretty woman in a bland institutional dress. Her once perfectly quaffed hair tied back in a plain practical bun. Once she was seated, Peggy removed her handcuffs entirely. Her wrists felt thin and fragile.

Peggy smiled graciously as she settled into her own seat. “Ms. Frost, it’s been too long.”

“It really hasn’t been,” Frost said stiffly. The idea of an Enigma machine was intriguing. But it wasn’t enough to make her like Carter.

“You’ve had a busy few months.” Peggy had a copy of Whitney’s personnel file from the jail. It was an interesting read. “I see that you helped out with the speech and elocution team.” Probably because Daniel and Peggy’s instructions for her incarceration had banned her from touching anything like a tool. “A perfectly model prisoner.”

Frost glared across the table. Arms crossed over her chest. “Did you bring me here to try and trick me into a confession because you don’t have a case?”

Given the relationship Peggy was trying to foster, it might be best to put all her cards on the table. “You’re right. We don’t have a case. Not one that will stand up to a jury that will obviously be sympathetic to you.”

A victorious smirk touched Frost’s lips. She had thought Carter had found something that would let her negotiate from a position of strength. But the facts hadn’t changed. “You’re letting me go?”

“Oh, we have very little choice in the matter. Really, we’ve already bent the rules keeping you in custody as long as we have.” Peggy straightened her papers efficiently. It wasn’t her decision. Even the prosecutor was convinced that Whitney was guilty. It was only a matter of actually trying the case that was at issue. “There is a little bit of paperwork to go over, but I’m sure we’ll have you home by dinner.”

Peggy plucked the first few pages off her stack of papers. “If you look here, you’ll see that we are releasing you without charges. Because we aren’t bringing charges, there will be no bail or parole requirements.”

Whitney’s smugness grew more obvious as she drew the paper towards her. Manfredi had said Carter had a deal to offer. It was starting to sound more like she was going to be begging for help. Whitney would hear her out. If only to see if the promised Enigma machine was real.

“We won’t, of course, be able to offer an exoneration.” Peggy maintained her even professionalism as she delivered what would hopefully be the fatal blow. “In fact, the only thing we’ll be able to tell the press is that the death of Senator Chadwick is an ongoing investigation and that you are still a person of interest at this time.”

Whitney’s confidence wavered. “Going to try me in the court of public opinion instead?”

“A regrettable side effect of the truth. We also can’t give up the investigation, I’m afraid. Not given your association with known criminals. Unfortunately, I have to return to my position on the East Coast, so less subtle agents will be taking over.”

Whitney’s gut clenched like she had been struck. “That’s harassment.”

Peggy was aware. But they could find the line to avoid repercussions on their side. At least theoretically. Peggy was putting her chips on their not needing to. “I doubt your industry contacts will see it that way. I also highly doubt they will be interested in your involvement in creative projects given the continued interest of law enforcement.”

She was right. None of the studios would touch her with a ten-foot pole if she came with a tail of government agents. Not with the ‘creative’ accounting most of them used. She’d never act again, let alone produce. And if the police were following her, the paparazzi would too. Those vultures would be sure to turn every twitch into a scandal. Even if there was nothing, they would haunt her so she couldn’t get a moment’s peace. “You can’t prove I did anything wrong, so you’re just going to ruin my life.”

“There is another option.” Peggy pushed another bundle of papers across the table.

*****

Ayame hopped to her feet; that was her signal. She knocked on the glass. Two sharp raps to draw the attention of the women in the other room.

Peggy straightened up stiffly. Glancing meaningfully at the mirror. “Consider. I’ll be back.”

Ayame kept her eyes on Frost as Peggy moved calmly to the door. So far, Frost hadn’t picked up the offer. But she was looking at it. Her eyes skating rapidly over the cover page. She didn’t touch it while Peggy was in the room, or for long moments after. But when she did, she fell on it like she was starving for the words. Most promisingly, she didn’t throw it back down after the first page. She turned each page slowly. Studying the exact wording of the paragraphs. Brow furrowed in concentration.

When Peggy returned to the observation room, she was carrying a tea tray. A small pot, two cups, and a plate of biscuits. She set it carefully on the table next to where Daniel was leaning. Intent on getting a chance to observe Frost without being observed in return. The more insight she had before the next phase, the better.

Daniel nodded at her. Just once. It had been a good opening. Strong.

“How do you think it is going?” It felt alright from where Peggy was standing, but things always looked different in the trenches. A fair amount of stick, some excellent hints at just how much carrot there was.

“Seems like she’s coming around.” Ayame watched Frost through the glass. She did look like she was thinking about it. Considering the many pros and very limited cons laid out in the offering document.

“How hard do you think she’ll negotiate?” That was another thing that was hard to judge up close. So far, Frost was only showing Peggy her hostile side. That was to be expected. She had been the visible antagonist through all of this. The question was, would Frost let herself be blinded by that antagonism, or just go along with what was good for her?

“A moderate amount.” Ayame was speculating on limited information, but she was confident. Frost knew she was being watched, and her film career had taught her to school her expression, but she wasn’t trained to the same strict standard Ayame was. “You know where you can give and what’s a hard line.”

Peggy did know. She had talked every aspect through with the Howlies and Thompson the night before she had left. They were running on a tight timeline, but that didn’t mean they were skipping steps. They had deliberately added aspects to the offer for her to take out. Decreased compensation. Increased commitment times. Settled on what they could actually accept and what they were flexible on. And then Peggy had gone through it all again with Ayame last night. Re-familiarized herself with all the arguments for and against. “You really think five years is enough?”

Amy shrugged. “Either she’s hooked at that point or she never will be.”

“Looks like she’s done reading,” Daniel said, nodding towards Frost who had set down the contract and was staring directly into the mirror. Her eyes bright with determination.

“Alright,” Peggy picked up her tray, careful not to spill the biscuits. “Time to play the good cop.”

*****

Whitney’s eyes snapped to the door as it opened. Carter re-joining her, carrying a tray of tea like this was a casual meeting. It wasn’t casual. It was calculated. Even the tea was a deliberate choice. An additional lure to draw her into the cage so they could slam the door behind her. Whitney could see it. All the gears and cogs that had come together to build the mechanism of the trap. And she was still tempted to walk straight in.

“I see you had a chance to read through my proposal.” Peggy poured two cups of tea, passing one across the table to Frost as well as moving the plate of biscuits towards her. “What do you think?”

Whitney thought Carter was fishing for answers she wasn’t ready to give. Trying to soften her up with snacks so that she would agree without proper consideration. Whitney didn’t touch the bribe of tea. There was a more interesting enticement she wanted to know about first. “Joseph said you had an Enigma machine.”

“Yes.” An overstatement, but they’d get one. “And several reports on how the encryption was broken.” And one of the people who had broken it on staff, if the letter Peggy had written this morning received the answer she hoped it would.

Frost nodded, still not touching the tea. “The agents you sent into the fundraiser. They had radios?”

“Yes.” Ones with rather temperamental receivers. Although Dottie had dropped an unconscious guard on their surveillance van, which had been a rather unforeseen circumstance. Finding a way to prevent that sort of interruption was exactly the sort of thing she wanted Frost working on. “We have open projects for both radio encryption and miniaturisation.”

Radio miniaturisation and encryption. It was… It was perfect. Frost would have been tempted even without the blackmail Carter was holding over her. “I won’t give up my acting. If I’m living on the East Coast, I will be doing Broadway.”

So, they were negotiating, Peggy had almost started to wonder. And as an opening gambit, Frost’s request seemed perfectly reasonable. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“And I won’t sign anything for ten years. Make it three.” Whitney had seen the burden that lengthy contracts caused often enough to be wary of them. Hollywood was littered with burnt-out starlets who had been trapped at bad studios with no way out.

“Eight.” Peggy countered. Ten had always been a stretch. But it was a good opening for some back and forth. Make Frost think she was putting up a fight and also a chance to give her a win.

“Six.” Frost could survive six years of almost anything. Six years with an Enigma machine and the high tolerance tools required to miniaturise a radio would very nearly be a pleasure.

“Six,” Peggy agreed. Better than they had hoped. Not that Peggy would be letting on that she was anything like pleased. “But with a clause saying you won’t leave us for the private sector afterwards.”

Frost bit her tongue. Eyes hard as the options turned over in her mind. Gears turning slowly but steadily. Each fact weighed against the others. “Alright. We have a deal.”

Peggy stood, offering Frost her hand to shake. Better than she could have hoped. “I look forward to working with you.”

*****

Once Frost signed the deal, there was really nothing left for Peggy to do. The marshals would take her back to her house, and then it was on Frost to get herself to New York. It was a lot of trust to put on her. Peggy was falling back on Ayame’s offer to use alternative means to eliminate her if she reneged on the deal and went back to being a threat. It wasn’t the most comfortable thought, but it was a safety net of sorts. Either way, Peggy standing around the Los Angeles SSR office and fretting wouldn’t achieve anything.

Far better to head back to Stark’s house and pack for her flight in the evening. If nothing else, the walk back to the car would make her feel like she was doing something productive. Even if all she was doing was walking down the street with Ayame. They had been forced to park further down the street than Peggy would have liked when they had arrived in the morning. More than a block away thanks to the businesses surrounding the SSR building receiving deliveries.

The hair on the back of Amy’s neck prickled. An unseen threat growing closer. Given her current surroundings, and the abilities of their primary opponent in the moment, there was only one thing that her subconscious could be interpreting as that significant of a threat. She focused her attention on the feeling. Searched for the source.

There was a heat haze on their left. Not unusual in this part of California; even this late in the year, the asphalt held onto the heat of the day. What made this one stand out to Amy, was the fact it was only visible out of the corner of her eye. And it was following them.

Careful not to let on that she was alert, Ayame leaned closer to Peggy. Voice low and even. “Do you have your gun on you?”

“In my handbag,” Peggy answered. Spine stiffening at the other woman’s tone. “Why?”

“Maybe just my own paranoia.” Ayame linked her arm through Peggy’s. Guiding her down a side street and away from any potential collateral damage.

Or maybe the kind of threat that was the reason Ayame and her husbands had decided to risk time travel.

The fact that the shimmer followed them confirmed Ayame’s fears. Her connection to the energies that surrounded their universe was strong enough to move any weak spots with her. Let her draw the threat away from where it could do real damage and towards where she could take care of it quickly and quietly.

Peggy was impressed by the size of the knife Ayame drew from under her skirt. As long as her forearm and visibly sharp. It did, however, raise concerning implications for what was about to happen in the currently quiet little alley they had found themselves in. Although, Ayame’s question about whether she had her gun with her should have been enough of a hint that something was about to go wrong. She drew her gun now, carefully setting aside her purse for later.

A glowing door to nowhere opened almost before Peggy could straighten up. A rectangle of light standing unsupported in the middle of the alley. And threatening to spill out of it, a dozen of the same heavily armed, otherworldly soldiers they had faced in England.

The last time Peggy had been involved in this particular game, there had been twice as many people on her side and Ayame had been significantly better armed. She was confident in her own combat skills, but she couldn’t deny that the situation was slightly more dire lacking Steven or Grant with their shield for cover and Bucky’s always efficient cover fire. Ayame was doing an admirable job maintaining a crush at the entrance even with a shorter weapon, and though Peggy couldn’t say she was entirely happy picking off anyone who got by, she was managing to keep pace. What they would do when she ran out of bullets was a complication, but she’d deal with it when the time came.

It took Ayame longer than she would have liked to get a proper bottleneck going so she could force all the agents back through the portal and get it closed. Closing the portal was a simple matter of flipping the switch on the other side. Simple wasn’t the same thing as easy. The switch was technically within arm’s reach of the door. But only technically. Getting to it without letting anyone or anything through wouldn’t be easy.

It took her long, painful moments to come up with a plan. Not what she would call a good plan, but a plan.

She snatched a grenade off one of her attacker’s belt with her off hand. Not an explosive, but a device meant to collapse time in on itself. It wouldn’t destroy the world on the other side of the portal the way it would a portion of their world, but she had used them before to create chaos on their side. Her movements were too quick to be graceful as she pulled the pin and bowled it between their feet.

It was too crowded for them to scatter properly. But they did all react. Jumping back with screams and shouts. All eyes on the grenade rather than on Ayame. Enough of an opening for her to lunge.

Her fingers just reached the top of the switch. Closing around it with barely enough friction to get it to move. But it did. Slowly at first. Agonisingly slow, as if the movement was all in her head. Then all at once, it reached the tipping point. The switch slamming home with a satisfying thunk.

An alert sounded through the otherworldly hallway. A warning that the doorway was closing. Music to Ayame’s ears. She snatched her hand back through the portal just as it snapped shut.

She let out a single deep breath. Emptying her lungs so she could refill them with calm. It was over, and she should have created enough space between their timeline and the Sacred Timeline to buy them some breathing room.

Peggy looked at the vanishing chaos around them. Something had the other side on edge. She checked her gun and found it completely empty of bullets. One shot away from disaster. “Frost wasn’t meant to join S.H.I.E.L.D., was she?”

“She wasn’t meant to survive.” There had been debate between her and her husbands about the point. Steve had been opposed to the unnecessary loss of life. Bucky had been concerned about the risk of her not disappearing the way she was supposed to. Ayame had thought there was a better use for her than simply having her energies absorbed by the Aether.

“That’s quite the risk, isn’t it?” Peggy would be the first to say Frost would be valuable, but not world ending-ly valuable.

It was. Ayame would admit that it was. But she thought it was worth it to strengthen Peggy’s position. “You’ll need allies who aren’t Hydra and aren’t oblivious.”

“You want me to take custody of Zola.” Really, Ayame’s subtle hints hadn’t been that subtle. She had clearly been nudging Peggy in that direction from the moment she’d suggested taking Frost in hand. And really, Peggy was of a mind to do it even without the prompting. Who else could she trust with him?

Amy closed her eyes. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted. “Once he’s done in Russia.”

Russia? Peggy hadn’t heard anything about his being loaned to Russia. “What is he doing in Russia?”

Amy swallowed. Panic and bile rising in her throat. It was fine. Her husband was safe and fine. Waiting for her back in New York. There was nothing she could do for him here and now. “Breaking Bucky.”

If she closed her eyes, Ayame would be back in her great-grandmother’s throne room. Kneeling on broken glass as she received her orders for repairing the timeline. The instructions had been simple. Protect the Stones at all costs. Ensure the vital events that led to their timeline were maintained.

Then her grandmother had stopped. Looked down at Ayame from her throne. Expression coldly imperious. Your husband is imprisoned at this time, yes?

Ayame had nodded. Mouth bone dry. He was. And she didn’t like that her grandmother was bringing that fact up now.

You are not to interfere with him. The words had struck her like a bolt to the chest.

Ayame had bowed even deeper. Pressing her forehead to the floor just in front of her knees. I understand.

And she did. It was a punishment. She had allowed Steve and his friends to mettle beyond what was truly repairable, and so she and her husband had to suffer. To know that Bucky was being tortured, to know where he was, and to not be able to do anything about it. Forced to sit and do nothing while the man they loved was broken and turned into a mindless killing machine.

The most she had been able to do for him had been to hint to D26. She was ruthless, but she was practical. She would protect him as a valuable asset if not a person. And she would bring Natasha to him. The closest thing to a blessing Ayame could offer him. A bending of rules that just skirted the line of getting her into trouble.

Oh. Of course. Peggy should have thought. “Should we… get tea before our flight?”

Amy forced a serene smile back onto her face. Bucky was safe with Steve. No one was going to hurt him. “I could actually go for a drink.”

Chapter 43: Belonging

They had plenty of time before they had to worry about their flight. Enough time to recover from the daze of battle. Settle back into their roles as proper upstanding ladies before they needed to pretend to the world that they were just friends on a pleasure trip. More than enough time to return to the Stark mansion for a more than passable English tea.

Even time for Ayame to run through a quick sword dance. A light workout to help her cool down after combat. Just enough to stop her muscles seizing with nerves. She sheathed the long-bladed weapon as soon as Mr. Jarvis brought the tea tray out to them. Still a little mad at herself for having been ambushed without her primary weapon on her. Not that she could have easily carried her swords, but it was on her to figure out how to make it work, and she had failed this time.

Before the other woman had a chance to sit, and just as the butler got out of earshot, Peggy asked the question that had been weighing on her since Ayame had confessed that Frost was supposed to die. It had rolled dark and anxious in her stomach all through Ayame’s demonstration of how deadly she was. “Is the timeline deviation caused by Frost going to be an issue?”

“It shouldn’t be. Not if she dies before microprocessing takes off.” If Frost could bring computers down to a reasonable size before Zola became terminal, Hydra would be able to download his brain into something small enough to be portable, rather than a football field worth of rudimentary databanks. Which would make it nearly impossible for Steve and Natasha to use the location of Zola’s ‘post-death consciousness’ as an entry point to the Hydra conspiracy in their century. Better for her to die before that could happen.

Until then, she would just be one more set of eyes defending what Peggy was trying to build. Without the influence of the Reality Stone, the science would be enough to keep her happy. As long as she was respected and intellectually stimulated, she wouldn’t lash out. And Peggy would make sure she was busy and interested.

“And will you be taking care of that?” Peggy knew she had entertained the idea before Frost had agreed to their deal. But it felt cold-blooded to just hold the idea in reserve while exploiting her talents.

“I doubt I’ll have to.” Ayame was reasonably sure Frost would start poking her nose into Zola’s work and the Hydra agents who were already working to infiltrate Peggy’s organisation would eliminate the threat. And even if they didn’t… “She’s been smoking since she was fourteen. That will probably take care of her before anything becomes an issue.”

Peggy wasn’t at all sure what that had to do with anything. Although she had noticed that Ayame had vehemently stopped her husband from smoking. And she doubted the unpleasant smell alone would be enough to elicit such a visceral reaction. She made a note to give up her occasional cigarette. Her mother was right, it led to unattractive stains on the fingers and teeth. Neither of which she needed if she was going to be the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Delicately, Amy poured two cups. First for Peggy and then for herself. There was clearly something else prickling at Peggy. Probably something personal since the rest of her work was exceeding expectations. “Do you want to talk about the other thing that is bothering you?”

No. Peggy didn’t even want to particularly think about the other thing that had been keeping her up at night the last few months. The emotional turmoil seemed a world away from the calm, collected image she wanted to project to the world. Ayame would hardly judge her though. And if anyone would understand why it was complicated, she would. A nice change. Peggy was more than a little convinced that the Howling Commandos had started sharing meaningful looks behind her back when the subject of her love life came up. And they didn’t even know the extent of it. “I’m sleeping with Grant.”

“Would it scandalize you if I wasn’t surprised?” Ayame asked, sipping her tea. Stale and flavourless the way it always was in this century that had apparently never heard of oxidisation.

“I should have known he’d tell your husband.” Bucky if not Steve. They were best friends after all. Closer than brothers. Which Peggy had known almost as long as she had known them, even if she hadn’t realized quite how far it went on Barnes’ side.

“I also happen to be very aware of how hard it is to keep your hands off the man.” How many times had Ayame fallen into bed with Steve when they weren’t together? How many more had she wanted to?

“That’s just it.” It wasn’t that Peggy hadn’t thought about putting an end to things. No matter how many times she made up her mind to tell him things were over, she ended up tumbling back into his arms and bed. “He’s dear to me. Terribly dear. And he’s very... good... at what he does. But we’re not...”

“Dating?” Amy supplied when the silence stretched on too long.

“You make us sound like children.” Like she was a schoolgirl with a crush. There really needed to be a better word for it. Calling or courting sounded so old-fashioned. Stepping out wasn’t quite right either, they never went out. “The point is, we’re just friends...” She rather hated that word too. It tasted more and more like acid in her mouth as the months passed. “Who occasionally enjoy each other’s company. And I don’t want to lose that.” There was no one she could talk to the way she could talk to Grant. No one who understood or believed in her the way he did. “But I—” Peggy swallowed. “I can’t be you.”

Amy kept her face reassuringly smooth. Laughing right now would be horribly insensitive. There was no way Peggy could know, or even a reason for her to suspect, that Ayame had spent years battling the same demon. Oh, but it was hard to hold in the bubble of hysteria that tingled on her tongue at the idea that the woman she had been so envious of for so long had the same anxieties about her. “So be you. He loves you.”

He did. Peggy knew he did. And she loved him. Which was exactly the problem. “I’d be a terrible wife and mother. It’s not that I don’t like children. They can be quite interesting little dears. But the snotty noses and the scraped knees. The laundry. I love my work, I can’t give it up for children I don’t even particularly want. I know he says he’s fine without them, but he’d make such a wonderful father. And you were married, what, a year before you had your first? I’d hate for him to start resenting me that soon.”

“That’s not exactly what happened.” She should have known Steve would leave out key details when he talked to Peggy. There were still some things about the modern world her wonderfully old-fashioned boy didn’t like, and the fact that he had ‘despoiled’ her was one of them. “We didn’t get married until nine and a half months after Sayuri was born, and we only pulled that off thanks to a very short engagement.”

Oh. Steve had left that detail out of his explanation. It did put things in a slightly different light. “You weren’t…”

“We weren’t even together when we had our accident that led to Lilypad.” Amy softly touched her wedding band and the new engagement ring that went with it. The best mistake she’d ever made. “I was a month and a half pregnant before we reconciled and the three of us decided to try and make things work. All credit to Bucky for knocking our heads together. We didn’t find out about her for more than a month after that.”

Which didn’t address the primary concern. Amy very much doubted Peggy’s working would be a deterrent for Grant. He would probably do the same thing she and Steve had done and put two desks next to each other in their home office. “As for the work, when we were living apart, Steve used to call me when he woke up to tell me to stop working and go to sleep. Even when we weren’t together, he used to have to come interrupt me so that I would sleep rather than try to solve whatever crisis I’d decided only I could fix. He’ll probably have to start doing it again once we get settled back in our time. He has a hard rule that I’m not allowed to work in bed, one he has to enforce regularly.”

A tiny smile tugged at Peggy’s lips. That certainly did sound like Steven. “You’re saying he won’t mind if I’m married to my work.”

Amy raised her eyebrows meaningfully. ‘He won’t mind’ wasn’t exactly what she was saying. “I’m saying he secretly thinks it’s cute, and he’s just as bad.”

“I don’t know if Grant loves his job.” She knew he liked photography, and he really was quite good at it. But it wasn’t like any of his photos were revolutionary. Better at capturing the truth of the city than anyone else she’d seen. And she adored his framing. But they were still largely utilitarian.

Amy shrugged. It was early days for Grant’s career, and no one really stood out on the local beat. “He’s still finding his stride.”

Peggy looked down at her tea. He was. And she was sure he’d do brilliantly once he found it. “It seems rather silly placed alongside everything else. The end of the universe, threats to the free world, aliens.”

“All of which will be easier to overcome if you are happy and fulfilled.” A lesson it had taken Ayame years to learn for herself. Years, and a pair of very devoted suitors-turned-husbands.

*****

The flight was shorter than Peggy remembered. Their plane whisking them back to New York in what felt like the blink of an eye. They’d barely sat down, and already they were back on the ground. Stepping out of the plane into an icy sleet rather than California sun. She was home, back in the thick of things. Weeks away from official, permanent control of S.H.I.E.L.D. And with more on her plate than when she had left. She needed to find an Enigma machine for Frost, figure out how Zola had ended up in Russia and who had allowed him out of prison, start writing up her own proposal for taking custody so it couldn’t happen again…

…And figure out what she was going to do about Grant.

Her mind was overfull. Racing in circles. She needed to rest. She needed to think. And there was simply no time. She dreaded to think what her inbox would look like after three days away. It was late in the afternoon, and there were a hundred things she needed to do at home, but equally, she should go into the office and do damage control.

And there was Steve. Standing next to a car in the parking lot. Sunlight glinting on his luscious golden hair, his beard thick and soft, overcoat emphasizing his broad shoulders. So handsome it hurt. A painful reminder of the conflict that had sunk so deeply into her bones.

Peggy waited for Ayame to break into a run. Let her husband sweep her off her feet. Tumble into his arms and let herself be adored. For Steve to hurry to them so that Ayame didn’t have to lift a finger to retrieve her luggage.

“That one’s yours,” Ayame said, scooping her gear bag onto her shoulder.

Peggy took another slightly longer look at the waiting man, and realized that Ayame was right. Or at least that it was Grant, not Steven. Which wasn’t quite the same thing. “He’s not mine.”

“No. He is.” Loyal beyond all sense or reason. And inspiring the same loyalty in return. Amy couldn’t wait to be back with her Steve and experience that devotion herself. “The only question is, are you his?”

Ayame didn’t wait for Peggy to compose herself before starting towards the car. She’d catch up, or she’d stand there having her existential crisis. Amy didn’t feel the need to get sleet down the back of her neck while they figured out which. Instead, she strode into the parking lot, the smile on her face growing wider and more genuine as she approached Grant.

Grant straightened up as Ayame grew closer to him. “Mrs. Winters, can I offer you a ride?”

“If you don’t mind.” Ayame assumed her husband had sent him. Concerned about spending too much time out and about himself, but worried about how she was going to get home safely. Or at least without any unwanted inconvenience. Ayame wasn’t one to be bullied by toughs who thought she was an easy mark. But also, breaking arms was such an irritating interlude, and then she would have to drive the cab the rest of the way and clutches these days were so irritatingly unresponsive.

Grant opened the door to the back seat for her. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted Peggy up front by him. “It would be my pleasure.”

Ayame crammed herself into the back seat along with all her bags. Less time standing in the street on the other end. She was very eager to be back with her husbands.

Peggy snatched up her bag and hurried after Ayame. The pavement slick under the soles of her shoes. Whatever she and Grant were, she refused to be scared of him.

“Is it yours?” Peggy was grateful that she had asked the sensible question about where he had found a car rather than the one newly circling her mind. ‘Am I yours?’ No. Far better to focus on where Grant had found a vehicle for them. She would have thought Grant was too practical to waste money on a car in the city, but Americans did seem overly fond of them.

“Borrowed it from one of the guys at the paper.” Grant had mentioned to his editor that he had to pick his girl up from the airport and the man had practically pushed the keys into his hand. He might be freelance rather than staff, but he was already making a name for himself as reliable and willing to help out. Happy to tackle film development or editing, even to lend a hand with layout if asked. He’d also picked up a reputation for being head over heels for a girl no one at the paper had ever met. So far neither reputation had led to better assignments or even a staff position. But he wasn’t ready to complain.

“Kind of him.” And smart of Grant to have asked. Maybe she needed an agency car. Not just for her personal use; she and Thompson would both be traveling more as they took over other offices, and it would make life easier getting the field agents to and from the airfield. It would, at the very least, be worth running the numbers.

“Wasn’t about to make you take a cab.” Grant took Peggy’s bag to load into the trunk. Given the chance to pick her up from the airport, he always would. He’d missed her for dinner the last few nights. Not the physical — not just the physical at least — but the conversation, the company.

“I do appreciate it.” Peggy hadn’t been looking forward to arguing about paying more than the meter, or deciding what address to give the driver. Grant would take her home rather than the office. He might even stop to get her food on the way there.

Grant cleared his throat. He was just standing here like an idiot while Peggy got cold. “We should, uh… we should get moving.”

*****

The car had barely stopped when Ayame leapt from the back seat, dragging her bags with her as she went. Her husband was standing on the steps of the Sanctum, waiting for her. Keeping him waiting should be a crime. Certainly, it would take more willpower than she had to resist going to him, whatever the obstacles. A New York sidewalk wasn’t nearly enough to earn a hesitation.

Bucky swept his arm around Ayame’s waist. Pulling her in for a deep kiss. Her luggage tumbling to the sidewalk. “Have fun, baby girl?”

Amy buried her hands in his hair. Holding his forehead to hers even as bent her over his arm. His welcoming smile the only thing left in her world. She would never get over the amazement that was having him back. “Missed you, Bucky baby.”

Bucky relented, shifting her to his side, still safely under his arm. They couldn’t go necking here on the street. And he didn’t really want to. Not when they had a perfectly good couch where they could cuddle and relax. And maybe pose, just a little, for Steve’s sketches.

He waved to Grant and Peggy, grateful that they had brought his girl home to him. Now it was his job to take her inside and make sure she was as alright as she looked like she was.

*****

Whip-like branches cut at Steve’s face. He was alone. Without his shield, gun, or even boots. Running for his life through a dark, cramped forest. Trying and failing to avoid trees that loomed out of nowhere and tore at his clothes. Behind him, the overlapping sounds of dogs and booted feet told him he didn’t dare slow down.

He kept running. As long as he kept running, they wouldn’t catch him.

It was too dark to manoeuvre. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, let alone plan a route through the trees. All he could do was move blindly forward. Roots grabbed at his bare feet. Branches cut his arms and legs. Trunks left him bruised and staggering when he collided with them.

He blundered onward. Desperate for some sign that he was headed in the right direction. Legs burning as he crested a rise he couldn’t see.

A shaft of light cut through the murk ahead of him. Almost blinding in contrast with the darkness around it. A clearing. A beacon of hope. Something to move towards instead of just blindly fleeing.

Steve rushed towards the perceived freedom. The space to manoeuvre if nothing else.

The space was free of trees. Instead, it held a crystal casket on a polished obsidian plinth. Moonlight lancing down to illuminate the shimmering surface. A knight knelt next to the casket. Sword planted in front of him, hand resting on the pommel, head bowed. Only it wasn’t a knight. It was Bucky. Steve’s Bucky, long-haired, arm shining silver, keeping vigil in the night.

Steve stumbled closer. Heart in his throat. He knew who the casket contained even before his eyes made out her profile. Ayame. Arrayed in formal robes, layers of white and red silk that lay too smooth and sharp for her to only be sleeping. Her silver hair almost glowed in the low light.

And he couldn’t even take the time to process any of it.

There was light on the horizon behind him; not dawn, but searchlights from the other side. They were lost in the woods and the only people looking to find them weren’t looking to save them. The harsh sound of pursuit shattered Steve’s misery into ragged shards. Dogs and booted feet drawing ever closer.

Steve’s heart seemed to be doing its best to escape his chest. Reasonable, given that he kept breaking it. “We have to go, Buck.”

“I would never abandon her.” The voice that answered Steve was level. Emotionless, for all it was a knife in Steve’s heart. The Winter Soldier’s voice.

Steve glanced over his shoulder. The lights were getting closer. “She wouldn’t want us to get ourselves captured.”

Bucky didn’t turn. Didn’t even blink. His eyes fixed on Ayame’s too still face. The only one of them who’d ever been able to see in the dark. Never to see again. “She doesn’t want anything anymore.”

*****

Steve sat up in bed. Breath coming in ragged gasps. Skin clammy.

He was fine. He was safe. Bucky and Amy were soundly asleep next to him. Her head cradled on his shoulder. His lips resting against her silvery hair. The image of peaceful repose. Safe, together, in love even in their dreams.

Carefully, Steve slipped from under the covers. He loved being in bed with his people. But he was going to spend the rest of the night tossing and turning and he didn’t want to rob them of their precious rest.

He dropped heavily onto the couch in the outer room. His hands wished he was less devout about letting his spouses sleep. He’d kill for one of Ayame’s hand massages. But waking her up would mean telling her about his dream which would only lead to that pursed-lipped worried look she got when she was trying to figure out what his subconscious was telling him. It wasn’t a mystery. He knew what his mind wanted him to know. Buck and Amy were devoted to each other, he loved that about them. And he was more than a little afraid that if they messed this up, Hydra would win. That he could lose them and never even know what he had lost.

He let his head fall back. Stared at the sitting room ceiling instead of the one above their bed. It was just… white plaster. Plain, ordinary, exactly the same as a hundred ceilings he’d stared at over the last few years. He was exhausted, and painfully awake.

They weren’t going to mess this up. Everything was going to plan. Peggy had agreed to help. All they had to do was make it through getting S.H.I.E.L.D. set up and it should be largely self-supporting. He knew the facts.

Facts didn’t make his gut feel any better. Especially not when they were bending them to better fit their personal objectives.

Bucky padded soundlessly out of the bedroom. At some point, his people would learn not to leave him in bed when they were having a crisis. There wasn’t anything he could do for them if they left, and it just meant he woke up anxious and confused as to why they weren’t there. “Can’t sleep?”

“Might be worse than you at it now.” Steve rubbed his eyes. He’d hoped his insomnia would pass once he had them both back in his bed. So far though, it seemed to be sticking around.

“High bar.” Bucky perched himself on the arm of the couch next to Steve. Stretching an arm along the back to better shelter his guy from the nastiness of the world. “Want me to wake up Aims? Knock you out the quick way?”

Steve looked back through the door towards her. Still peacefully asleep in their bed. Safe and alive …and trying to hide just how worn out she was. Completely exhausted given that she hadn’t woken up when he and Buck had gotten out of bed. He wouldn’t put more weight on her if he could avoid it. He could stand a couple sleepless nights if it meant she got a chance to recover. “How’s she doing?”

“Alright. She’s still struggling a little with the Winter Soldier part of the plan.” Not that Bucky blamed her. He didn’t know what he’d do if either Steve or Amy came to him with the plan to let themselves be tortured for half a century, even if it would protect their baby.

Steve combed his fingers through his husband’s newly shorn hair. He missed the length already. The soft waves that begged to be played with. “And you?”

Bucky licked his lips. How was he? They’d been so busy he hadn’t really thought about it. “You love me?”

“‘Til the end of the line,” Steve promised. Sliding his hand around to the back of Bucky’s neck and pulling him down until their heads touched. Until the air they were breathing really was the same. He wished he could press his thoughts directly into Bucky’s brain. Show him just how true that promise was.

Bucky kissed his guy’s forehead. That’s what he liked to hear. Their dreams might be bad, but their life would be good. “Then I’ll be alright.”

Chapter 44: Enigmatic

They would have stumbled across one eventually. That was what Ayame had said when Peggy had pointed out that she wasn’t in possession of an Enigma machine. Peggy had pored through every report she could get her hands on. Set the Howling Commandos to the gargantuan task of reviewing surveys from the end of the war. Called in favours to gather every hint she could.

She had two new employees to show for it. Brilliant scientists both. And not a single clue where to get the actual machine.

Whitney was playing nice so far. Too busy with moving cross-country and establishing herself in the city to ask too many questions. But there was only so long Peggy could draw out her orientation and so much she could be distracted by Stark’s radio earpieces before she started asking questions Peggy didn’t care to answer.

It would be one thing if Peggy could explain that a field team was collecting one imminently. A little more ‘the check is in the mail’ than Peggy would like, but needs must. Not having any clue at all was unacceptable.

Peggy gave in and picked up the phone. Foot tapping impatiently as she waited for a very specific number to be connected. “Alright, I give up. Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Steve’s voice answered. Not who she had expected, but not unwelcome.

“The Enigma machine your wife seems to think is just laying around waiting to be picked up like the shopping.” That Peggy had seen neither hide nor hair of. They were valuable pieces of equipment. The Allies had recorded all the ones they had either captured or found the remains of. And as far as Peggy could tell, they were all accounted for, and the surviving ones were being jealously guarded by other agencies.

There was a pause while Steve debated how much he was going to tell her. An internal debate intense enough that Peggy could hear the gears turning. “There’s an abandoned Hydra base in northeastern Austria.”

“That sounds far too simple.” Although it wasn’t on any of the maps Peggy had in front of her, so finding exact coordinates might be an issue. A solvable problem. She could send in the Howling Commandos, let them poke around a bit. At least, she could as soon as the other shoe dropped and she learned why that was a bad idea.

Another beat while he debated whether he could give her more information. “It’s less abandoned than they want you to think.”

And there was the other shoe. “So, there is a nest of die-hard fanatics plotting a comeback in northeastern Austria.”

“Fanatics holding onto all the old gear,” Steve agreed. “Including an Enigma machine.”

“Which obviously, we would find when Dugan noticed that the old supply lines are still in operation.” They hadn’t been reduced to combing that sort of record yet, but it was next on the list.

“It’s more chlorophenyl than most people in that region are importing.” A hint for how she would find a location, and also a tantalizing clue to a larger mystery.

Peggy leaned against the edge of her desk. Curious just how far she could push her fishing for information before he stopped dropping useful breadcrumbs. “What are they making?”

“Something I’m sure Stark will be interested in.” That far apparently. Still, an interesting gleaning. She would admit to being curious whether whatever they were using the chlorophenyl for was interesting enough to tempt Stark away from the movie that was rapidly approaching a year in development.

There was one other thing she was curious about. Hydra she was confident they could deal with. There were other threats she was less sure of. “Is this another one of those ‘calculated risks’ your wife is so fond of?”

“No,” Steve said with confidence. “It really is something you’d figure out, probably within the week.”

Well, that was something. It would still be the biggest operation S.H.I.E.L.D. had run yet. And with her final review at the end of the month, she couldn’t afford for it to go sideways. She trusted her team with more than her life, but she was also nervous about letting go of control. “I think I’ll tag along. It has been a while since I’ve been in the field. I’d hate to get out of practice.”

The pause after that announcement didn’t feel like Steve trying to decide if he could tell her something. It was more like he was weighing the parameters of the mission. “If I said you should take Grant with you?”

“Grant is a civilian.” Bringing him along on this sort of thing would completely undermine his decision to retire. She was sure he’d come with them if she asked, but that was exactly why she wouldn’t. She would just tell him she was going away for a few more days and not to worry about her. Which he shouldn’t. She would be with the Howling Commandos; if they couldn’t keep each other out of trouble, no one could.

“Yeah, that’s what Aims said you’d say.” Peggy could hear Steve rubbing his jaw. Knew exactly what the love and worry on his face would look like.

She could also picture Ayame smiling at him indulgently. Understanding his worry, but also sure that it was needless. And it was. They had raided more than one Hydra base in their time. With and without him. This would be no different from any other day at work. “We’ll be careful.”

*****

Once they knew what they were looking for, it had been reasonably easy to narrow things down. And once they were narrowed down, it was even easier to put together a foray. Really, once the target area was reduced, there was only one site that made sense. Steve was right, there was an unusual amount of chlorophenyl being requisitioned for what was ostensibly a largely unused radio and survey station. And when Falsworth double-checked the old reports, he found exactly what they were looking for. The ‘base’ was listed as a radio and survey outpost, too small to devote many resources to during the chaos at the end of the war, and on the eastern front, so no one in their circle had followed up after.

Peggy was very glad she had insisted on coming along. Even without the need to live up to her end of the bargain with Frost, the ability to retrieve the technology from an un-plundered Hydra base, even a small one, would have been worth her attention. And it was a radio outpost. They were sure to have had an Enigma machine, along with the encryptions and decryption tools used by both the German SS and Hydra at the end of the war. So many of the documents had been lost either through sabotage or misadventure. There were dozens of reports and notebooks waiting to be decrypted if only they could find the right key. Which meant years’ worth of potential projects just waiting for them.

She felt that energy of potential just standing here in the woods overlooking the target base. It was far from their first time scouting out a wooded position in the middle of a European winter, but it never seemed to lose its thrill. Peggy wouldn’t have minded a light snow to help disguise their movements. Not that there appeared to be a lot of guards to disguise their movements from. Peggy couldn’t even make out the gate guards from where she was standing, probably inside the little gate house to keep out of the cold. And really, she would have expected at least one parameter patrol in the time they’d been watching.

Next to her, Dum Dum surveyed the small shack and tower at the bottom of the valley in front of them. “It’s too quiet down there.”

Peggy took his binoculars. Surveying the site for herself. It was small. Hardly more than a shack and an antenna, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Hydra had always favoured an underground construction if they could manage it. And the number of tire tracks said she was looking at just the tip of the iceberg. Which made it all the odder that she couldn’t see any guards. Dugan was right. It was far too peaceful down there. It didn’t look like there had been a mass exodus or an emergency that might have drawn everyone off. And yet, there wasn’t even a trace of movement.

She handed the binoculars back to Dum Dum. Time to find out just how deep the rabbit warren went, and hopefully where all the rabbits had run to. “Who has the lock picks? I want to save Dernier’s charges for any obstacles we encounter inside if we can.”

“What’s your plan? Knock?” The voice sounded out of nowhere. Close enough that Peggy could reach out and touch the speaker.

She looked up, and found Ayame sitting on a tree branch just a few feet away, her ankles delicately crossed. She might be dressed for battle in the same deep blue outfit she had worn the night they had raided Frost’s compound, two swords slung on her left hip, but her posture was as relaxed as if she had been at breakfast with her husbands.

It was infuriating that she had managed to get so close without alerting them. “Do you have a better one?”

“Personally? If I had time to plan?” Ayame stretched her arms above her head as she pretended to think about it. “I’d probably sabotage the shipment of chemicals they got yesterday. Maybe make sure all the external air vents were shut and tip one thing into another thing. See if the sleeping gas they were trying to manufacture really works, or if it’s just hype.”

“Mrs. Winters.” Dum Dum smiled up at her. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Amy allowed herself a smirk. “My husband reminded me what sort of lock they were using, and that I wouldn’t enjoy it if Montgomery got himself shot while you were trying and failing to get it open.”

“Remind me to thank him.” Monty wasn’t overly fond of the fact that he’d been called out by name in that concern. “Will he be joining us today?”

Ayame flicked a wrist dismissively. “Bucky doesn’t really do Austria anymore.”

Monty shifted and coughed. No. Of course not. None of them had enjoyed their first visit to the country, but Barnes had fared worst of the group.

“The sleeping gas?” Peggy prompted. That mysterious, know-it-all energy was infuriating, but Peggy could absolutely see why Steve would be charmed by it. She did hope she wasn’t like that when she knew something the people around her didn’t.

“The sleeping gas,” Ayame agreed. She would much rather talk about that than everything that had or would happen to her Bucky baby in this particular country. “They’ve been working on it for a while, and they’re getting quite close. A shame they’ll probably stop trying after the tragic accident that is an entire batch of it getting into the air supply. Although I will give them credit, the only long-term side effect is the occasional migraine.”

“They would all survive?” Peggy wasn’t opposed to a low casualty solution. She wanted their things, not their lives.

“Some of them might choke on their vomit,” Amy shrugged. And there were a couple she would like to see choke that she had to ensure survived.

Ironically, she had to ensure they didn’t come to harm because they went on to harm her husband. Which was also why they had opted for her to come alone rather than bringing one or both of her husbands along. Leaving Colonel Mugler alive would take discipline. The kind of discipline that let one walk on broken bones or slide a blade into one’s own body. Ayame had done both. Somehow this hurt worse.

Peggy could live with that too. “How long will they be out for?”

“Hypothetically, another twenty-four hours, give or take.” The gas would dissipate enough for people to start coming around in between twenty-two and twenty-five hours, depending on their metabolism. The big take away was they would be out until well after the team was clear.

“I don’t suppose you took a look around while you were setting all this up?” Dum Dum thought he knew the answer. He also thought he might see what Bucky saw in her beyond just her pretty face. If she had managed to do all that on her own, girl had to be efficient.

“I located the communications room.” Ayame hopped down from her perch. Landing lighting next to Peggy. “Might even have rigged things so that a small fire starts there to disguise anything wandering off. Nothing that would cause casualties. Just a distraction.”

“And the front gate is open?” Peggy asked. Even if the lock wasn’t Bucky’s, or more likely Steve’s, primary concern, it had to be on the list for Ayame to have brought it up at all.

“For love of Falsworth.” Amy winked at him. She was having fun tweaking his tail in particular. He had absolutely no idea what to do with her and wouldn’t want to do it even if he did. And it did confuse the others so that he was the one she had focused in on. If Bucky were here, he’d be hiding his face in her hair to cover his laughter.

Except he wouldn’t be. Not here. Not where Hydra had tested tranquilizers on him until they found a more effective way to control him. Drugged him, erased his memories over and over again, treated the love of her life as less than human.

Peggy couldn’t even be mad. Not when she would have planned it herself with time and intelligence. She wondered if she had asked to speak to her if Steve would have put Ayame on the phone and she could have found all this in advance. “Alright. Gas masks on, gentlemen. Let’s go exploit a mistake.”

Gabe watched Bucky’s wife absently stretching out her limbs rather than gearing up. He knew she wasn’t just a pretty face, but she still looked underprepared for her surroundings. No helmet, no body armour, no rifle or side arm, not even any gloves despite the cold. As far as he could tell, the only thing like gear for this sort of mission she had on her were the sword and long knife hanging off her belt. He didn’t want to be the one who had to explain to Sarge if anything happened to her. “You got a mask, doll?”

Morita elbowed him hard in the ribs. That wasn’t just some pretty girl who happened to be married to one of their friends. You couldn’t just go around calling her ‘doll’ or ‘sugar.’ They shouldn’t even be standing here talking to her like this at all. They should be on their knees if they were going to talk to her.

Ayame pulled the snarling fox mask off her belt and settled it into place. The technology inside wasn’t strictly contemporary. Not on earth at least. But she wasn’t planning to let anyone else get their hands on it to find that out. “I’ll be just fine.”

*****

It was eerie, walking through the desolate hallways. They had stepped over a pair of unconscious bodies just inside the front entrance, guards presumably. But otherwise, they might be walking through an abandoned facility rather than one that was going through half a ton of tungsten a month. The atmosphere of abandonment was only renounced by the haze hanging in the air. A thin fog that turned distant details fuzzy.

Peggy tightened her grip on her rifle. The weapon was probably unnecessary. Ayame had done a thorough job of clearing the way. But she still appreciated the reassurance. If anything went wrong, she could defend herself. Ayame seemed absolutely unconcerned. Peggy could almost hear her humming under her breath. The same song Bucky liked to sing or whistle to himself while cleaning his weapons. Peggy edged closer to her so that they could converse without anyone else overhearing.

“Why are you actually here?” Not that she doubted the lock would have been hard to bypass, but she doubted it would have been enough of a hang up for them to actually lose Monty. Not that they would come out unscathed, but so far she hadn’t seen anything that would make the mission impossible. The plan had been for Ayame and her husbands to interfere as little as possible to help preserve the timeline.

“Needed to make sure certain people survive.” Ayame set her palm on the hilt of her sword. Letting the feel of the silk cording and sharkskin ground her.

Oh, of course. They were working on chemical weapons like sleeping gas, it made sense that there would be overlap between the people working here and the ones who would be developing drugs to use on Barnes. Peggy swallowed. She should have thought. “It was left up ahead, you said?”

Ayame forced herself to breathe rather than think about it. She was glad Peggy wasn’t pushing for more information. Every step felt like a knife to the gut. She could protect her husband from so much. It wouldn’t even be hard. Two minutes with a chemical-soaked rag and the world would assume he was just a casualty of the sleeping gas accident. “Yes. Left hand hallway, three doors down.”

The women walked side by side down the next hallway. It was almost nice, having someone of her own sex along. Peggy knew her fair share of other female field agents, but she had never really had the chance to work with them. Given her former commanding officer’s concerns about allowing her into the field with the team, the idea of a second woman on the same team would have given them vapours. Ayame was so pleasantly quiet and reserved. Relaxed without being inattentive. And her mask was less dehumanising than the bulbous filters of everyone else’s.

They skirted the body of a scientist who had collapsed in the hallway. Everyone stepped carefully around the akimbo limbs of the unconscious soldier.

Pinky paused to look at the body. He was just… a guy. Average build. Bland brown hair. He wouldn’t have looked out of place on any street back in the States. And here he was. Spending his life underground working for people who wanted to destroy the world as they knew it. “Do you ever wonder why they do it?”

“Follow a delusional mastermind to almost certain doom?” Peggy clarified. It was a question she had asked herself more than once standing over a Hydra operative who had taken cyanide rather than be captured. Who had died rather than risk any damage to the vision of a genocidal maniac who didn’t care if they lived or died.

“Promise of a better world and an information imbalance,” Ayame answered easily. The same way any leader who was scared of an informed populous led: through the power of ignorance. Easier in the short term, but hard to control if the ‘mob’ started to get restless. Personally, she preferred an educated nation who could make their own decisions. Not a flawless plan. But at least she didn’t have to worry about her people breaking out the guillotine if they decided they didn’t like what her government was doing; that was what elections were for. Happy people made for a more stable country.

Pinky hadn’t actually expected an answer. It had been more of a thought exercise than a genuine question. “Information imbalance?”

“The delusional masterminds never seem to mention the doom part.” Peggy knew what Ayame meant though. Identify a genuine problem or insecurity, or the symptoms of one at least, then present a twisted version of a solution.

“I don’t know if they know,” Gabe snorted. They all seemed pretty surprised when things didn’t go according to plan.

Dum Dum considered the last time they had seen the Red Skull. Right before Cap had followed him onto the plane and they had lost their friend for years. That manic look in his eyes. “Some of them definitely do.”

“And some of them think it is just a necessary sacrifice for the greater good,” Morita said around a knot of anxiety. He didn’t like the idea of disposable underlings. No one should treat sons and daughters as expendable cannon fodder.

“How exhausting must it be to live as a narcissist with delusions of grandeur surrounded by people who only say ‘yes’?” Monty was exhausted just thinking about it. The pressure of trying to ignore your mounting issues, like an emperor ignoring the feel of a breeze on his nether regions.

“It tends to leave weaknesses you can exploit.” Ayame nodded through the right-hand door. The lab inside seemed to be made primarily of blackboards covered in complicated chemical formulas.

Exploitable weakness indeed. Everything was just sitting out. On display for the trusted minions to heap with praise. And for the intruder they had been confident would never make it this far to purloin with impunity. Peggy was curious, she absolutely wanted to investigate further and see what less nefarious hands could do with the developments. But currently she had a more pressing interest in the room to the left.

“Happy and Morita, document everything, but don’t leave any signs that we were here,” Peggy ordered, directing them towards the blackboards.

Everyone else would stay with her and their primary target. Not that it would be anywhere near as difficult as she had feared. The Enigma machine was practically gift wrapped for her. Waiting ever so prettily on a counter along the back wall of the communications room, all the codebooks and manuals arrayed alongside it. Peggy doubted they were stored like that regularly. In her efforts to protect the timeline, Ayame had smoothed their way beautifully. Honestly, Peggy would have been amused rather than surprised if she had gone so far as to truly gift wrap the thing for them. She had stopped short, but not by much.

Not that Peggy was at all complaining. With everything they needed laid out and waiting for them, there was more than enough time for Happy and Morita next door to see if they couldn’t figure out what all the chlorophenyl was for. “What were you planning to get me for my birthday?”

“The only thing that might make your life easier than this will,” Ayame smirked behind her mask. Peggy had so much in common with Steve. Including the stubborn determination to do everything themselves rather than learning to delegate. “A competent secretary.”

“You’re still on that?” She had mentioned it when the idea for her to act as back up in Los Angeles had first come up. Peggy had assumed it was a throw away comment. Just a part of her cover.

Amy shrugged. “You still need one.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. ‘Need’ was a strong word. Although it would be nice to know that she wasn’t returning to an overflowing inbox, and really, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone other than the agent on phone duty to screen her calls. “Jacques, will you set the detonator please? But wait until Happy and Morita get back to light it.”

*****

Back above ground, there was no denying that this felt like a victory. They had an Enigma machine, no one knew they had taken it, they had some very interesting notes on field emitters, and they had put a damper on the development of an unnervingly good sleeping gas. Vicious pride filled Peggy’s chest. This was her organisation. Her success. Around her, the team slapped each other on the back. Red lines pressed into their skin still marking where they had recently removed their gas masks. Celebrating a job well-done and taking pleasure in breathing clean, fresh air.

Peggy accepted her own congratulations. Moving amongst her team to share a moment with each of her friends. She’d miss this feeling after she officially had her position. The fulfilment she found behind a desk was very different from this joy.

Peggy smiled at the woman standing stoically apart. Somehow her gas mask hadn’t left unpleasant lines on her face. “Will you be joining us on our flight back?”

“I have a couple of other errands to run over here.” It wasn’t strictly true, but the Ancient One could open a portal that didn’t make her sick or necessitate her being bounced around in a glorified tin can for hours.

Or she really could run a few more errands. More than anything, she wanted to ignore her orders. Head back into the compound, murder Mugler. After that, it wasn’t far to the border. She could hop a train most of the way to where she needed to go. She could break him out. Kill everyone who had hurt the man she loved. Give him back the life that had been stolen from him.

Still, she managed to smile and wave as the others disappeared around the curve of the hill. Maintained her professional mask although she was seething on the inside.

“Aims!” Steve had been waiting for the rest of the team to leave for what felt like ages. He loved his friends, but he was dead to them; the only reason he was here was his girl needed him. Even if she didn’t know or wouldn’t admit it.

“Steve?” Confusion nearly made Ayame forget why she was itching to draw a blade. “What are you doing here?” Not that she was complaining. She loved any time she got to spend with her husband, but she had been sure he was safe in the Sanctum with Bucky.

Steve caught her hand and drew her closer. Saw the brittleness she was trying to hide. “Thought you might need a couple minutes before you had to face him.”

They had made a deal years ago that only one of them would break down at a time. And here was her husband, confirming that it was her turn. That she didn’t need to be the strong, rational one right now. Ayame let herself crumble. Let Steve hold her up both physically and metaphorically. “Bucky—They’re—I—"

“I know. I know.” Steve gently wrapped her in his arms. There it was, all the things she hadn’t been willing to say out loud to either of them. The fear, the anxiety, the guilt she had held inside. “You need me to say it?”

“I know.” And she did. She knew she ‘couldn’t’ do anything about it. “But—”

“You’re not failing him, sweetheart.” Steve slid one hand around to the back of her head. Cradling her traitorous brain protectively. He knew why she felt it. He felt it too. All he wanted to do was protect the people he loved. But they couldn’t. Not in the least, because it had all already happened. At least that was what he kept telling himself. “He’s going to be alright.”

Amy burrowed into his safety. “I wish it were me. If I could take his place…”

“He’d fight you for it.” Steve cuddled his girl close. And Steve would fight both of them to take the place himself. “If he had to choose which one of us it happened to, he’d want it to be him.”

A sob hiccupped out of Amy. Shaking her entire body. Pain and fear pouring through her. Tears burned as they streamed down her face.

Steve smoothed her hair. Making gentle, soothing noises and letting her feel what she was feeling. Held her while she cried in a way she hadn’t in years. She needed it. The same way she had the last time she had let go like this. His brave strong girl. She held onto things too tight. He kissed the top of her head and held her a little tighter as the sobs turned to silent shaking. He didn’t know how long he held her before the tears finally stopped. It didn’t matter; he’d hold her forever if she needed him to.

Ayame wormed her hand up to her face and scrubbed away the tear tracks. She pressed softly on Steve’s chest, her lungs still feeling too tight. But her soul didn’t feel frozen anymore.

Steve loosened his grip, shifting to cup her face. Thumbs stroking away the last of the dampness. “You ready to head back, or you want a little more time?”

“I love you.” The words felt raw in Ayame’s throat. She did love them. More than anything. Which was why it hurt. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t care. She’d be able to put aside everything that happened to them for the safety of the larger universe.

“I know, sweetheart.” Steve kissed her. Soft and filled with love of his own. Not a weakness, even if it felt like it to her in this moment. Like Bucky always said, it was their strength. “We both do. I promise.”

Chapter 45: Work Life Balance

Peggy gripped the sheets so hard she was sure they’d tear soon. And she simply didn’t care. Not with pleasure racing through her body. Every trace of frustration and tension fallen away. She had been so stressed all week, but here and now, she couldn’t even remember why she had been frustrated. All thoughts of the inbox that had been overflowing since her trip to Austria erased. Three days of dawn to dusk in the office driven completely from her mind.

She had thought her first orgasm of the night had been good. A playful Grant sitting her on the edge of the bed and dropping to his knees in front of her. Growling praise for his ‘favourite dessert’ and licking into her very core. And it had been good.

But it was nothing compared to this. Compared to Grant running his hands lovingly over her body. Kissing her neck and shoulder. Fingers digging into her hips as he dragged her back into him again and again. Her knees pressed into the bed. Arms stretched in front of her as she arched into the sensation. The angle absolutely perfect. The apex of every stroke sending jolts of the most delicious pleasure through her.

She was so close she ached. And she wanted this moment to last forever.

“There’s my girl,” Grant urged. The magic of the two of them together searing through him like a wildfire. His control on a hair trigger. Only held in check by his need to ensure she got there first.

She twitched and clenched. Toes curling and eyes rolling back in her head. She moaned. The sound rolling through her as she came apart.

Grant loved the feel of her around him. It killed him, but he pulled out of that perfect embrace. Peggy didn’t want kids, and he didn’t want to be the reason they had an accident. Condom or no, he wasn’t taking chances. He let her slide forward into the nest of disarrayed blankets. Taking himself in hand and stroking until he found his own pleasure. Eyes fixed on the glorious sight of the woman he loved naked and satisfied in front of him.

The filled condom went into the trash can by the bedside table and then he turned his attention back to the most important thing in the room. Peggy, sweet and sleepy in his bed about to doze off for the first time in almost two weeks.

Peggy rolled over to sprawl decorously across the bed. Leaving him little space to be anywhere in the bed but on top of her. The comforting weight of him. Not that he would crush the air from her lungs immediately. She knew how the sweet man liked to cuddle. He’d take his time, kissing every inch of her before he took her in his arms and snuggled her close. Holding her safe and comfortable and warm. A rare thing this late in the winter when the entire city seemed so cold and damp. She gazed up at him through lowered lashes.

A sense of contentment settled over Grant. Burning flames of lust settling to an endless smoulder. This was exactly what he’d needed this week. He had thought she’d stay over the night she had gotten back from California, but a spurt of energy had hit her after he had finished welcoming her back, and she had wanted to go home and check her mail. Then there had been her short notice trip to somewhere unspecified in Europe that he’d tried not to ask too many questions about. Tonight was the first time since she’d gotten back that she had been able to tear herself away from work to see him and he hoped he had made it worth her while. He kissed the softness of her stomach. Adoring the gentle creature only he got to see. “I was thinking we could try somewhere new for lunch tomorrow. Angie is off, so it won’t be a betrayal if we hit up the deli on the other side of the street. I hear their soup is—”

“I won’t be able to do lunch,” Peggy groaned. Disappointment at the remembered fact cutting into her pleasant haze. Really, she should have told him sooner. But she had been so frustrated when she had arrived, and he had done such a thorough job of distracting her after dinner. “We’re having working lunches all week in the office, trying to get everyone briefed for the review and vet everyone we are keeping from Boston.”

“Okay.” Work was busy right now. He got that. It would have been nice after missing last week with her in California, but a couple of missed lunches wasn’t the end of the world. “What about dinner the night after? I have a new recipe for chicken à la king I was going to try.”

“I won’t be able to do that either,” Peggy sighed. “Thompson and I will be reviewing the filing system.” They needed a better way to cross reference things, and there never seemed to be time to go through it all when the office was full. “We probably won’t be done until late.” Too late to make it worth coming over. She’d have to leave practically as soon as she arrived. And really, there was no point in Grant cooking and then sitting around waiting for her. Either she or Thompson would run out and grab something. It wouldn’t be nearly as fun, but they might just get the storage room sorted out. A better index. That was what they needed.

Grant braced himself on his elbows, his forehead resting against her ribs. Refusing to be frustrated that seeing her was this much of a struggle. She was starting a government agency from essentially scratch. It was bound to dominate her time. “Guess I’ll just have to settle for breakfast tomorrow instead of lunch.”

Peggy sat up with a jerk, dislodging Grant from his place over her. The horrifying reality of what he had said jolting her fully out of her doze. “Tomorrow is Wednesday!”

“Yeah.” Grant rolled onto his side. Their day. At least it was in his head. The day of the week where they were supposed to put everything else aside and try to figure out how they fit in a world that wasn’t at war.

“I have to go.” Peggy scrambled out of bed. Snatching her clothes off the floor and trying not to get anything backwards as she pulled them on.

“Peggy, it’s after midnight,” Grant said, laying dumbstruck on the blankets. According to the alarm clock he’d set just this afternoon, it was nearly one in the morning, and she had brought a change of clothes specifically so they could take their time.

She knew it was. She would never have spent the last hour laying around doing nothing if she had remembered what day it was. Really, she shouldn’t have come at all, or at least have left after dinner. “I am supposed to call the Boston Section Chief at seven.”

“In the morning?!” Grant blurted out the question without thinking. It was ridiculous.

“He wants to do it while there is no one else in his office. To avoid worrying the men that they are about to lose their positions.” Peggy was reasonably sure what he actually wanted was to inconvenience her, but she certainly wasn’t going to be the one who blinked first.

Okay. Grant rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t going to argue with her. It wasn’t worth it. She loved her job, and that meant sometimes having a chaotic schedule. “At least stay the night. If you leave now, you won’t get any sleep and you’ll end up going into the meeting tired.”

“I can’t. All my notes are at home. I’ll never get there and back to the office in time.” And he was a distraction. It was so hard to feel sharp when she woke up all lovely and cradled in his arms.

“Do you want me to come with you? Just to get you there safe.” Grant knew Peggy could look after herself. But his going along would probably mean she didn’t have to look after herself. His bulk would deter basically any threat she’d encounter between their apartments. Which would get her home faster and in a better condition for the morning. He pulled on his boxers, looking around for his shirt to join her in getting dressed.

Peggy kissed his cheek as she finished buttoning her pants. “One of us should get some sleep.”

He got up, following her through to the door. Nothing about this felt right. Her running off into the night. His letting her. “Peggy…”

“I’ll call you,” Peggy promised, already closing the door behind her. Her jacket only half on.

Grant was left standing in front of his closed door in just his boxers. Hand flat on the wall next to the frame. Aware that she had left without even a real last kiss.

He slumped forward until his forehead rested on the wood. Hand curling into a fist and rhythmically tapping the wall. She needed space and time. That was all. Space and time. And she was busy. He loved how much she cared about her work. He just wished... he just wished she wasn’t the only one who was busy. It felt like all he did these days was wait around for her to find time for him.

He sighed and pushed himself away from the wall. It was late. He was tired. He’d go back to bed and... change his sheets so they didn’t smell like Peggy’s perfume and sex. After that, he’d sleep. Get up tomorrow. Face a new day. Try to pretend he didn’t miss the way things had been two years ago.

Not the war. He was glad that was over. But both of them having a purpose.

*****

The rest of the week had worn on without even a peep from Peggy. No call, let alone a makeup day for their missed lunch. Grant got up, tried to keep himself busy. Played some chess in the park and tried not to beat any of his opponents so badly they wouldn’t want to play him again when he was in a better mood. Ran some pointless errands. Took pictures of the boats on the river, the mayor’s speech at Rockefeller Plaza, the snow on the trees in the park. Sold the worst of them to the paper.

By Saturday night, there was no denying it, Grant was frustrated. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. But this wasn’t it. Going through the motions day after day with nothing to show for it but paid rent. Even that wasn’t a real struggle. Ayame had liberated a Hydra bank account for him, both the original owners and the thieves who had stolen it from them beyond the need for cash. He had more than enough ‘savings’ to fall back on if his photos didn’t sell. He almost missed the hustle from before. Sitting down with Bucky every week to make sure their bills were paid, scraping together odd jobs when it looked like they’d be short. He didn’t need to think about anything these days. Everything moved smoothly, even if it wasn’t easy.

At least, most things were smooth. He was painfully aware of the very specific rough patches he was encountering in one area of his life.

With a sigh, Grant gave up staring at the bare shelves of his kitchen. He’d held off doing his shopping waiting for Peggy to call. Thinking he could pick up her favourites fresh when he knew she was coming. Now the shops were closed until Monday and he was down to coffee and half a loaf of bread.

The shops were closed, but the restaurants weren’t. It was only seven. Still plenty of time to grab dinner. Maybe find a jazz club and listen to some music. He wondered if Gabe and his wife would go with him if he called. It was late to invite them out, but Magda always knew where the best music was, and she had promised to teach him how to dance. He liked the idea of learning. Even if it was starting to feel like the partner he had wanted to dance with was avoiding him.

He tried not to think about it too hard as he tied a tie and shrugged into a suit jacket. Better not to drag anyone else into his rough mood. Part of it was probably the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. Man couldn’t live by black coffee alone, but he’d been trying today. Busy not thinking about his relationship and instead developing photos. He’d go to the steakhouse on the next street over. Eat a hearty meal he hadn’t cooked himself. Maybe take advantage of the fact that he could get drunk again and order a bottle of wine. He’d spend tomorrow developing more photos. That would occupy his hands at least.

He swung open the door to his apartment, just in time to find Peggy raising her hand to knock. “Peggy?” He took a half step back in surprise. His mind hadn’t conjured such vivid fantasies since Frost had drained the serum’s effects.

“Did you miss me?” Slipping into the apartment, she slid her hands up Grant’s chest. She was rather surprised to find him wearing a suit so late on a Saturday. She had expected him to be sitting around with his sleeves rolled up and shirt unbuttoned. All temptingly relaxed the way he usually was at the week’s end. Not that she minded a few more layers. Grant did look wonderful in a suit.

Grant kept his hand on the door. Not entirely sure if he wanted to close it and carry her off to bed the way she clearly intended, or leave and get his steak. “You said you’d call.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come,” Peggy deflected lightly. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. A necessary push to get her out of the office and away from final preparations. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

He didn’t mind exactly. He wanted to see Peggy. He was just getting a little tired of it always being on her terms and her schedule. The cancelling at the last moment or expecting him to be waiting for her at the drop of a hat. “I don't have any food in the apartment.”

“Oh.” Peggy withdrew her hands from his chest. This was not her normal welcome.

Grant scrubbed a hand through his hair. It wasn’t Peggy’s fault he was having an off day. “I was just about to go get dinner. Come with me.”

“I’d hate to impose.” Peggy dropped her eyes and took another half step back.

“It’s not an imposition.” It was a meal together. Just like their lunches, only this one he would pay for. They didn’t even have to come back here after, if that was still too much for her. It would be nice to just talk for the first time in weeks. And not about Peggy’s upcoming promotion. He understood why she was anxious, but there were only so many ways a guy could word ‘you’re brilliant and prepared, everything will work out.’ And maybe Peggy would have a solution to his discontent if she’d let him talk about his life for half a minute. He was so proud of her, moving mountains to change the world for the better. He knew photography wasn’t life and death the way her work was, but it was what he was dealing with.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Peggy fiddled with her handbag, stepping even further away. She knew what would happen if they went out to eat. The diner was one thing. Angie knew that things were complicated between them, if not why. Any other waiter or waitress would fuss and fawn over the ‘adorable couple,’ or worse, if she or Grant corrected them and told them that they weren’t a couple, any reasonable woman would flirt with Grant. He wouldn’t flirt back. He’d remain perfectly polite. And somehow that was worse than if he did. “I have work waiting for me at home. Enjoy your dinner.” She wondered if he would give in and flirt if she wasn’t there. He had been terrible at it before her. Time and practice had made him better, but that was at the particular brand of flirting she had enjoyed, and even that he hadn’t indulged in much since she had become interim director.

“Pegs,” Grant sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was always like this when he suggested they do something other than just fall into bed together. Even just a walk after they ate turned into a fight. Bucky had called what they were doing ‘friends with benefits,’ but the last few months it felt like it was straying further from friends into just benefits territory.

“It’s fine,” Peggy repeated. She was the one who had said they should be friends. Ayame said he wouldn’t mind her working all the time, but really, why should she stop him flirting with pretty waitresses who wouldn’t have to split their attention. “I should have called. I will next week.”

“Yeah.” Grant tried not to sound bitter. He didn’t know why he had asked. Every time he suggested they try something that even hinted at more than friends, she pulled away. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

Peggy winced. That was something she had been meaning to talk to him about. “They moved my performance review to Wednesday.”

“Right. Well.” Grant leaned heavily against the door. Wednesday rather than Monday, then all the work she’d have to do after they officially gave her the position. Another week before he saw her again. At least a week, assuming nothing more important than him came up and she put him off again. “Keep me posted.”

Peggy paused, as if she wanted to say something else, but wasn’t sure what. Then she smiled. A brittle thing that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll call. Really this time.”

And like that she left.

He waited until she disappeared down the hall before stepping out himself. He walked slowly down the stairs, giving Peggy time to get away. The train was in the opposite direction of the restaurant. They wouldn’t run into each other on the street. He still looked the way she would have gone. Right, towards the train that would take her back to her apartment and the cold bed waiting there for her. Sure that the pillbox hat on a head of chestnut curls he could see disappearing into the crowd wasn’t actually her. And wanting to chase her down and kiss her all the same.

He turned determinedly left instead, sidewalk hard under his feet as he started walking. Forget the bottle of wine. He was ordering a steak and whiskey. And sleeping through tomorrow morning if it killed him.

Chapter 46: Career Choices

Grant felt silly for being here, whining like this. He’d held out for the better part of a week. But really, who else would understand. And not even just understand. All his other friends in this century worked for Peggy. He couldn’t vent about their love life to them. He wasn’t even sure he could call it a love life. A sex life, sure. The sex was good. The sex had always been good.

He wanted more than sex.

He was glad at least that Ayame wasn’t here. Steve had mentioned something about her being out on a run since they had to be connected to the regular flow of time anyway. Grant wondered if that was an excuse and she had stepped out to give him a little privacy after he had called to say he needed to come over. Bucky and… himself… he could whine in front of. Bucky had been with him from his first disastrous fumbling with women. Had laughed with and at him when he’d finally had a little success with Peggy. Obviously, Steve knew what he’d been through. Their wife was different. Given the option, he’d rather not admit to being pathetic in front of the pretty girl.

And he felt pathetic.

“Every time that I so much as suggest that we should actually try, she just shuts down. She left my apartment last week when I told her I didn’t have any food and suggested we go out to eat. Started babbling about how she had to be up early and all the reports she had to review. If I’d offered to fry her an egg and eat her out, she probably would have spent the whole night.” And maybe that was what he should have done. But he’d only had one egg left and he’d wanted a steak. It had just been dinner. They didn’t even have to go back to his place after. They could have shared just the meal and not his bed.

“It’s hard, being in love with an opinionated woman. Just give her—” Steve’s head came up and he swivelled around, drawn by the return of a presence he’d missed. He hadn’t expected her back this soon, but he could never regret laying eyes on her. She always looked amazing dressed for her workout. He’d draw her again. Just as soon as they reassured Grant. “Aims.”

”Mon Ours, Mon Loup.” Amy drifted into the room. Her boys, and Grant, heads together conspiratorially. Grant and Steve serious, Bucky barely suppressing an amused grin from the way the dimples on his cheek twitched and his eyes sparkled. “What are we laughing about?” Ayame curled onto the arm of the couch. Leaning into Bucky’s side. She loved seeing him laugh again. It gave her hope that they really were doing the right thing.

“Stevie has a type.” Bucky winked at his pretty girl. Wrapping his metal arm around her hips. Not that he didn’t. But he was willing to own up to it. Too much fight, brilliant minds, eyes that could move a nation. How could anyone not love his people?

“I do not.” Steve rolled his eyes. All the people he loved were wildly different. Beautiful and smart, sure. But completely different personalities.

“Sure, you do,” Bucky chuckled. He thought it was obvious, even if Stevie didn’t see it. “Smart, beautiful, could kill you, and apparently, commitment issues.”

“Since when do you have commitment issues?” Amy teased back. Mean of her Bucky baby to pick on her Taii. Someone needed to defend her husband’s honour. “I seem to remember you being the one leading the charge to get us to ‘go steady,’ as you put it.”

“Not a lot of people in my life I ever seriously considered spending the rest of it with.” Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the couch, Cupping the back of his guy’s neck tenderly, at the same time he curled his arm to pull his little Fox even closer. Surrounding himself with love. “Just two.”

Steve looked up at Ayame. That was true. When they were young, Bucky had treated marriage as an inevitable side effect of his sleeping around rather than something he was actively looking for. Then he found Ayame. And they'd found themselves in a century where no one was going to throw them in jail for loving each other. For a lot of other reasons, but not for love.

Ayame melted. There were few things she loved quite as much as she loved the sight of her boys together. If they didn’t have an audience, she’d slide into Bucky’s lap. Curl into a ball so Steve could envelope them both. Whisper how she had never thought she’d find a happiness like this either. As it was, there was little she could do but gaze into blue and silver eyes while her heart fluttered in her chest.

Grant watched. He wanted that. He’d never even thought of wanting it with Bucky. But now he could see it, and he wanted it. Not that he wanted to steal Steve’s guy. But he wanted that easy companionship. That confident love that came from years together. That silent communication that said a million things they didn’t need words for. He wanted something that felt simple, even though he knew it was made up of intricate complexities.

Ayame broke away from the moment first. She loved her husbands, but displays of affection could wait until they were done with their guest. “You’re struggling with the commitment? Or she is?”

“I'm just…” Grant scrubbed at his beard. He didn’t want to say he was struggling exactly. “I said I’d give her time, but it’s starting to feel like she doesn’t have any, and that’s all I’ve got. I’m not mad that she’s busy. I just wish…”

“That you were busy too?” Bucky rubbed Steve’s neck. Remembering those first tense days when the three of them had been circling each other. He’d been tense and on edge. Not just because they were on the run and his people were fighting. Because it felt like all he could do was sit and wait for the other shoe to drop. It had gotten better after Amy and Shuri had found him his farm. Once he’d had something to actually do with his day. And Stevie was worse than he was. Always looking for a project to keep him occupied.

“I like photography.” He did. In a lot of ways, it was harder to take a perfect picture than to sketch one. Harder to hide the flaws of reality, harder to capture exactly the right moment, harder to take the mundane and make it true art. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what he was doing most of the time. “But it’s not like filler shots and snapping pictures of press conferences takes a lot of time.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Ayame prompted. There was a solution to this problem. Well, there were three or four easy solutions and a few more that would take a little work. They just needed to solidify what the actual problem was, so they could choose one.

Grant swallowed. What did he want? It should be a simple question. He had thought he knew the answer when they offered him this. Now that he was here, he was nearly as lost as he had been in a different century. “I want to take photos that matter. Tell real stories.”

Well, that was easy enough. Or at least, the concept of it was and she trusted Grant to have the drive to follow through. It was just a matter of using his network to find or create an opportunity. “Who do you know that’s doing that already? Or who wants to be that just needs a little help from you to get you both moving?”

Grant shifted. Who did he know who was struggling to adapt to what should feel normal? “Herman was complaining about something along the same lines.”

“Herman?” Not a name Steve knew. That was good. It meant Grant was branching out and meeting new people.

“Another freelancer.” Journalism, not photography. But still a freelancer, which meant they ended up sitting around waiting for editors to make decisions a lot of days. Last Tuesday, the editor for the politics section had left them both sitting around while he waffled about including Herman’s piece on the mayor’s speech alongside Grant’s photo of the man standing at the podium. They’d ended up shooting the shit over coffee while they waited. He’d been good company. “He was embedded with the 15th during the war. Think he’s feeling a little too sedentary now too. He mentioned maybe heading back to the continent. Feels like there is still a lot happening over there that no one is talking about.”

“So go with him,” Amy said with a smile. She could picture exactly the kind of photos this man would bring back from Europe with him. They would be as beautiful as they were heartbreaking.

Grant shook his head. He didn’t hate it. Not the concept at least. But everything was so up in the air. He couldn’t just walk away. “It’s not like I can just hop back and forth. I’d be gone for at least a month. And Pegs—”

“You said she’s too busy to see you,” Bucky countered. He hated to see his friend pining. It was almost worse than the way Stevie had gazed wistfully at Amy’s back when they had been figuring things out.

“She’s too busy to schedule a time.” It wasn't exactly the same thing. Plus, once the pressure of her probation was officially over, things would probably be more regular. It wouldn’t be the ‘drop everything I'm ready now’ that had been bothering him the last couple weeks, it would be their lunch and three dinners a week where they talked and things were good.

“Sometimes both of you being busy makes it easier to find the time.” Steve stretched his arm along the back of the couch, reaching behind Bucky until his hand rested on Ayame’s shoulder. Or at least, it made it feel more vital to actually carve out the time officially instead of just hoping things lined up. It had been when they were busiest that making time for their calls and visits had felt like life or death.

“What are you trying to say?” Grant hated not knowing what ‘he’ was thinking. It would probably feel as obvious as getting smacked in the face with a shovel once Steve came out and said it.

Steve shrugged. “She asked you to give her space. And you’ve been just about living in her pocket since you got back to New York. Let her have some actual space. And take some for yourself. Figure out if this is really what you want.”

Grant leaned forward on his elbows, turning over the too large question of what he wanted in his mind. He wanted a life with Peggy. He loved her with every fibre of his being. But he didn’t want it to feel like this. Like she was soaring high and meeting all her potential, while all he could do was watch from the ground. “Guess I should start brushing up on my German.”

“Talk to Herman. See what your options are,” Bucky prompted. If nothing else, he’d have a chance to see what colour the grass really was.

Chapter 47: In Review

Tuesday night had been among the worst of Peggy’s life for no good reason. Certainly, the worst she had spent in bed. Before or after the war. Her bed had been so cold; even adding an extra blanket and a hot water bottle hadn’t driven off the damp chill. Her pillow had kept deflating, failing to support her head properly. She had tossed and turned. And woken up tangled in her blankets with a crick in her neck.

And woken up late on top of that. Her alarm had failed to go off. Her clock sitting silent on her bedside table, the time reading two in the morning and when she had gone to wind it again, the mechanism hadn’t so much as clicked. It meant a morning so rushed that she hadn’t had time to fret about anything, which was a mixed blessing in a way.

She had thought about finding her way to a different bed even before her awful night. But Grant had seemed so irritated the last time she had just shown up, and when she had called early in the evening, no one had answered.

At least no one had answered. No one else was keeping him company while she was busy. At least, no one else was keeping him busy at home…

Peggy refused to be distracted by anything Grant may or may not be doing. This was her day.

She strode confidently through the bullpen, head held high, shoulders back.

And found Ayame tidying her office. Dressed in neat professional work wear, the only adornment to her pale grey suit, a simple string of pearls. The very picture of a modern working woman. “What are you doing here?”

“You need a secretary,” Ayame answered, not looking up from where she was collating summary reports. Something that, if Peggy had a proper secretary, would have been done yesterday.

Peggy glanced from the door of her office to the conference room. A tray sat in the middle of the table, heavily laden with mugs and a silver carafe. Even little pots for cream and sugar. “Did you make coffee?”

Ayame tapped the papers into a neat, organised stack. Of course she had. Someone had to. “I also picked up pastries. Like your secretary should have.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. She had a whole bullpen full of highly skilled agents who answered to her, and Steven’s wife seemed convinced that the one thing that would revolutionise her life was someone to sort her mail and do her filing. “Yes, well. I’ll hardly need one if today doesn’t go to plan.”

Ayame tipped her head to the side meaningfully. Nerves weren’t something Carter normally let show through.

“I’m sorry.” Peggy set her bag down heavily. She needed to get herself back under control before the day properly started. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Anything else bothering you?” Because Ayame didn’t entirely believe that Peggy was this on edge over what should largely be a formality. She was far and away the best candidate. The committee would see that. Ayame would ensure that they would.

“Nothing to speak of,” Peggy said, feigning innocence. Ayame didn’t need to know that she and Grant were fighting. They weren’t even fighting. It had been one awkward interaction. …and then no answer on his phone line when she had tried to call him last night. Hardly anything at all.

Well. If she didn’t want to talk about it. Amy pushed off the edge of the desk. Fixing her serene professional mask back in place. She was a ray of nurturing sunshine. Simply here to cater to the needs of the real workers, not at all to manipulate them. “I suppose I’d better keep playing the good secretary and finish preparing the conference room.”

“Ayame?” Peggy almost surprised herself blurting out the name. The syllables of it awkward in her mouth.

Amy stopped, turning back towards her with a raised eyebrow. Maybe she did want to talk about it after all.

“Was Grant with you last night? Did he stop by for something?” She knew he visited the house where Ayame currently maintained residence. It was to be expected. She was married to one of his best friends and her other husband was… still hard for Peggy to entirely wrap her head around it if she thought about it too hard, but they undeniably had a lot in common.

“I haven’t seen Grant since Sunday.” Ayame waited for Peggy to follow up and ask the question she actually wanted the answer to.

“I see.” Peggy straightened her pen and notebook. “Well then.” If he hadn’t been with Ayame and her husbands, and none of their mutual friends had mentioned seeing him, where could he have been? “I’ll let you get back to that coffee then.”

Well, if she didn’t want to ask. Ayame had meddled in the Carters’ love life more than she probably should have in California. And Grant was finally getting around to sorting out his non-romantic life, which she was sure would help. Her sweet boy’s need to stay busy and fulfilled wasn’t a new development. Grant would need something to make him feel useful as much as Steve ever had. “I wouldn’t worry about today going to plan. Really, who else are they going to pick?”

Peggy allowed herself an amused huff. Just a short puff of air through her nose. But it did alleviate some of her stress. Ayame was right. At this point, it really was too late for them to pick someone else. Too many things were in motion, and she was too involved in them to be set aside entirely. If they had an alternate candidate she respected enough, they might have been able to convince her to become deputy director. But they didn’t. Which meant all they had was her.

Calming herself, Peggy pulled out the small hand mirror she kept in her bag. Carefully fixing her hair and makeup. Smoothing down her clothes. Taking the time to put herself together. She was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. She had been the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. for months. This was just the rest of the world figuring that fact out.

*****

Taking the seat at the head of the table didn’t feel entirely natural. Peggy had spent far too many meetings like this one standing in the corner taking notes to not want to move that way instinctively. But really, this was where Peggy belonged. This was her agency. The council might be here to validate that fact, but it was already a fact.

Ayame took up the place Peggy would have occupied before taking her place in leadership, a silent assurance that the job she would have done before would still get done.

Peggy kept her posture perfect as the rest of the council filtered into the room. Colonel Phillips patted her on the shoulder as he took the seat next to her. A silent gesture of pride and confidence. Predictably, the Senator took a chair as far from Peggy as possible. Not even looking at her as he sat.

“Alright. No reason to waste time with formalities.” Sitting at the other end of the table, the Secretary of State straightened his pen and papers. “All in favour of giving Carter the director position permanently?”

A chorus of “Aye” circled the table, with a single “Nay” coming from the Senator.

“The ayes have it.” The Secretary of State made a brief note and moved a form from the front of his stack of papers to the back.

“We’re not even going to talk about this?” the Senator objected, glaring around the table.

“We’ve been talking about it, Gregory.” The Secretary of State frowned at the next page of his folio and shuffled it to the back as well. “You’re the only hold out here and the President wants this off his desk before the election in the fall.”

“Were those danishes?” Colonel Phillips asked. Ignoring the Senator to gesture at the refreshments arrayed along the side of the room.

Ayame smiled brightly at him. The very picture of a perfect secretary. An angel of the office. “Director Carter said you liked the Oleander Bakery over in Brooklyn. We took the liberty of arranging an order.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” the colonel barked at the rest of the table. Vindication stiffening his shoulders. “Attention to detail. Sign of a good commander. Taking care of the little things as well as the big picture.”

Peggy absolutely hadn’t remembered which bakery was his favourite. The last time they had been in Brooklyn together had been five years ago and there had been a war on. No one had been making anything like the pastries on the sideboard. If he had mentioned a bakery that had made good desserts before the war, Peggy hadn’t retained the fact. Not that she was going to complain if Ayame wanted to give her credit. Clearly the woman had gathered the information from somewhere and it was terribly rude to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“They look fantastic,” the Secretary of State praised. Also pointedly ignoring the senator’s continued grumbling.

Ayame gathered up cups and coffee pot to distribute refreshments to the conference table. A light buzz of casual conversation humming among the men. The only members of the meeting who were silent were the senator, brooding in his seat, and Peggy, struck dumb by the suddenness of everything she had been working for.

“Is that it?” Peggy whispered as Ayame filled her cup.

“You want them to debate it?” Amy whispered back before smiling sweetly at Colonel Phillips and asking if he wanted cream or sugar.

No. Peggy didn’t want them to debate it. She wanted the job. She had just expected more… ceremony seemed like the closest word. She had worked herself to the bone to prepare for today and they had barely glanced at any of the reports they had prepared.

“I had assumed that was why you were here,” Peggy whispered again as Ayame made another round with the pastries. That there had been some issue that Ayame had either known about in advance, or been warned of after and had come to avert.

Ayame set a side plate with a glossy pastry on it next to Peggy’s elbow with a meaningful click. “I’m here so you don’t end up pouring the coffee or making them uncomfortable forcing one of them to.”

“Because you think I need a secretary.” She really would not let that go. And maybe she was right. Certainly, Peggy shouldn’t be the one circling the table with the pot and neither should Thompson. She needed him taking notes and paying attention.

Peggy sipped her coffee. Putting aside Ayame’s inexplicable crusade to staff her office to let the reality of her success settle over her.

“Now then.” The Secretary set down the last half of his danish. Brushing the crumbs off his fingers as he turned back to the papers in front of him. “Let’s talk about the other offices. I want to pick up the pace. Ideally, we’ll have all of them moved over by the end of the year.”

Peggy did some quick math in her head. The rest of the offices by the end of the year. Everything was ready for Boston. But then there was Chicago, Houston, Atlanta, Phoenix, Seattle, Los Angeles, and of course D.C., and it was already February. That would mean less than two months between taking each one on. A challenge, given that it would involve interviewing all of the staff, establishing who would stay and who would have to go. It would involve a lot of travel, both for her and for Thompson. And she really did need to send the Howling Commandos in to deal with that compound upstate.

“I believe that is a doable timeline,” Peggy answered with brisk efficiency. A tight timeline, but a doable one. She would find a way to streamline more of her processes.

Peggy smiled and tossed around some platitudes when they questioned her already eccentric hiring practices. She had absolutely no intention of changing them. She would continue to collect misfit toys and give them a chance to shine. She understood that the intelligence community at large didn’t see their value, but she did.

Not that most of them complained too much. Most of the council had ties to other agencies who were happily ‘looting’ manpower from the SSR as the offices were downsized. Peggy was hardly going to mention that she didn’t want their golden boys. They were overvalued and unlikely to work well under her command. Better to have them move on without her having to explain to them why she would prefer not to employ them. The circumstances that had led to Thompson’s revelation would be far too hard to replicate at scale.

They did push her to get Howard to come down from his mountain. Peggy wasn’t in a rush. They didn’t want him back for the same reasons she did. They wanted him to turn his brain to their nuclear project again. She wanted to point him at a non-destructive project. Those miniaturised radios of his, for example. If he could increase the range so the operator didn’t have to be practically pressed against the wall, they could change the world more than any bomb.

Besides which, his starlet had re-emerged in Hollywood a week ago. He’d be back with them soon.

She agreed readily, while mentally discarding half their plans for what her first year should look like. Some of their suggestions she had already thought of, some were actually useful, many were just ‘the way things were done,’ and quite a few were terrible ideas that she would be outright ignoring.

Finally, the day was over. Reports read. Tours taken. Projections given. Everyone, with the possible exception of the senator, seemed satisfied that this new agency was in good hands. Ayame disappeared to fetch coats from whatever out-of-the-way place she had stashed them on arrival.

Peggy stood next to the door as her hiring council filed out. Thanking each man in turn. All with a smile and a firm handshake. An especially firm handshake in the case of the senator.

Colonel Phillips positioned himself last in the line. Apparently preparing for a private word with her. Peggy was rather surprised when he stopped next to her. She knew he was her greatest champion in all this. But he had been so reserved in his support. Aside from their initial conversation where he had admitted to planning for her to take the position all along, they’d hardly talked in the last months.

Colonel Phillips patted her firmly on the shoulder. “He’d be proud.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peggy’s throat felt tight. He would be. He was. She knew he was. He’d told her every chance he had during the process. Phillips didn’t know that, but only because Grant’s presence and identity were closely held secrets.

“Good job, Carter.” Phillips patted her shoulder again. A slightly awkward demonstration of his own pride. “Good job.”

He didn’t look back as he left the room. But then Phillips was never one to dwell on something that had been successful, whatever the reason for that success.

Alone in the conference room, Peggy slumped against the edge of the table. She pressed a hand to her lips. Bubbles of hysterical laughter filling her chest.
Success.

She was… She was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. She had done it.

There was nothing to do but… the job.

Peggy straightened up. Pulling herself together. She was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. The first director of S.H.I.E.L.D. As long as she didn’t completely fumble the opportunity presented, she had already made history.

And she wasn’t about to fumble this opportunity.

“Gentlemen.” Peggy stood firm. Looking out from the door of her office with one hand on her hip. Surveying her kingdom. The bullpen was filled with her carefully selected core of operatives. Still mostly men, but men from many walks of life. All of them talking and smiling. Treating her success as their own victory. “Would someone like to explain why you’re not working?”

She barely got the words out before her team descended on her. Hugging her. Slapping her on the back. Stopping just short of boosting her onto their shoulders and carrying her around like a sporting champion.

Chapter 48: Cheers to the Future

It was a hectic, laughing rush to organise a party for her. Or maybe it just felt like it to Peggy, as this was the first she had heard about one. It was decided that drinks at their usual bar wasn’t celebratory enough for the day. Dancing was deemed to be more appropriate. All of them whisking off to a club recommended by Gabe’s wife with barely enough time for Peggy to be rushed to her apartment and hurried into an appropriate cocktail dress. Grant was invited, naturally. But so were a number of other friends. Angie, and Angie’s brother Max, who might not know exactly what the promotion they were celebrating was but knew that it was exciting. Rose, beaming with pride.

Peggy wondered if she should have been the one to call and tell Grant. The thought of it had flashed through her mind when she had heard the official announcement. But there had been so much to do before the panel had left. Then Dugan had volunteered to make the calls, so she had let him. And now, they somehow kept ending up on opposite sides of the group. There had been one brief hug at the beginning. A quick whisper of congratulations in her ear. The sentiment in his eyes genuine and adoring. But so far, Grant hadn’t made the effort to get her alone.

He was talking with ‘Mr. and Mrs. Winters’ now. Leaning against one of the posts that surrounded the dance floor as he joked with Bucky and Amy. Grant looked so much brighter and happier than he had the last time she had seen him. And ever so handsome in a deep grey suit with a deep red tie, his beard lush and neatly trimmed.

Peggy could hardly make it two steps without having a drink pressed into her hand or someone stopping to congratulate her. The handful of times she had made eye contact with Grant, he had smiled, but didn’t make any effort to come to her. Not that she needed rescuing exactly. She was just very aware that most of the other women in the group had a partner at their side.

Angie didn’t. But then Angie already had Pinky and Thompson both vying for their turn to take her out on the dance floor. But Gabe and his wife were joined at the hip, and Peggy didn’t think Barnes’ hand had left the small of Ayame’s back since he’d helped her out of her coat.

Peggy glanced towards Grant just in time to see him throw his head back at something Ayame said. Laughing without a trace of reserve. She had promised to teach him how to dance. But that had been before. Ever since he’d gotten back… there hadn’t been time for anything like learning. Or if there had been, they had used it for other activities.

*****

The band struck up a faster rhythm. The trumpets hollering loud enough to drown out conversation for an instant. A grin broke across Bucky’s face. He knew this one. He liked this one. And it was fast enough to actually be fun for his girl.

“I think your husband wants to dance,” Grant laughed and slapped Bucky on the back as he addressed Ayame. Trying not to wince at the metallic feel of his left shoulder. He’d nearly forgotten about that. The end result of his years of torture was out of sight, out of mind thanks to the gloves he was wearing with the suit and the way he smiled at his wife. He looked happier than Grant had ever seen him, even before the war. And like a nerd with the thick-rimmed glasses that were acting as a disguise for the night. But overwhelmingly happy.

Yeah. He did. Bucky wouldn’t bother trying to deny it or play it cool. He was head over heels for his girl, and he never got to take her dancing. They could get whatever music they wanted on demand in their living room. It wasn’t the same as actually going out. “Baby girl?”

How could Ayame ever deny him anything? She slipped her hand into his glove-covered one. “We’ll be back.”

“Don’t count on it.” Grant had seen Bucky when he got dancing before. Give him a partner he actually liked, and he didn’t see them leaving the dance floor for the rest of the night. And Grant couldn’t grudge him some well-earned fun. He’d join them himself if he knew how. Failing that, he and Monty hadn’t caught up in a while. He couldn’t ask how Jack was, but they could talk about Monty’s beloathed landlord. Grant really had lucked out with his; just the right amount of uninvolved and around to fix things.

Bucky lifted Ayame’s hand to his lips, kissing it lightly as he drew her into the dance. Spinning her as soon as her feet touched the polished wood.

*****

Peggy wasn’t sure how she had ended up even further from Grant than she had been the last time she had looked. And yet here she was. Every time she took a step towards him, another well-wisher appeared and required her attention. Not that she minded that all the field agents had been invited. It was gratifying to know how many of them were pleased to find her in charge of the agency.

A new hand touched her shoulder. She turned with a bright smile of appreciation. And found a welcome face. “Happy!”

“Director,” Happy bowed dramatically. “May I have this dance?”

Peggy glanced toward Grant, who had moved even further away to sit with Monty at one of the little tables claimed by the group. He seemed completely engrossed in his conversation. His hand wrapped loosely around his glass as he leaned back in his chair. Laughing again.

He didn’t even meet her gaze and smile at her this time. He was enjoying himself without her. Happy to socialize with their friends while she made her way around the party on her own.

And she did love to dance.

Peggy extended her hand to Happy. “It would be my pleasure.”

Happy grinned and led her onto the floor. Swirling her into a spin before they ever closed. Proving why he had long been heralded as the second-best dancer in the Howling Commandos.

They passed Bucky and Ayame, apparently revelling in their time together. Peggy wasn’t entirely sure Ayame’s feet were even touching the floor between spins and lifts. But then, Bucky had always been the standout dancer of the Howlies, and it looked like he had finally found a partner who matched him. The way the two of them moved together was natural. The effortlessness of years of love.

*****

A slower song brought Bucky’s hand to rest on the small of Ayame’s back, gazing deep into the violet of her eyes as they turned together. Their new dance intimate rather than energetic. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“You’re only saying that because you love me,” Amy teased. She was aware that this fashion wasn’t particularly flattering on her. The shoulders of her dress made her look like a triangle and the soft waves of the hairstyle did nothing for her bone structure.

A sweet huff of laughter made Bucky’s shoulders rise. Yeah. He was saying it because he loved her. And because it was nice to see her in the world he only almost remembered. But it was anything but just in his head. Bucky could feel the eyes of almost every guy in the place on her. She was just used to it and writing them all off because not a single one of them was enough of a threat to be interesting to his fierce girl. “I love you so much, baby girl.”

*****

From the lovely fast swing, to the slower waltz, back to something bouncy and light, Peggy was passed from Happy, to Jack, to Angie’s brother Max, a handsome young man who had missed out on service thanks to a job at the docks. He held her at a respectable distance as they started a slow, rotating path around the dance floor.

Peggy tried to spot Grant during their next circuit of the floor. Watching for his distinctive figure as they passed the table. She saw him. Still smiling and laughing, this time with their other friends. The chair next to him was empty. His arm resting lightly along the back. Peggy couldn’t help thinking that she would rather be curled under that arm than whirled around the dance floor by even the most skillful partner.

She couldn’t abandon Max in the middle of a song. But when it was over, she’d find her way to what was obviously her place. They’d talk for a while, and maybe they’d finally find time for a dancing lesson.

Or maybe one more song with Max. It had been far too long since she had danced with a talented partner. She needed to get her own footing before she could show Grant.

*****

Grant checked his watch. It was getting late. He wouldn’t even have come out tonight if it was for anyone but Peggy. Herman wanted to meet at seven tomorrow. Early, but that made sense given that had had a whole day of interviews for his current project already on the books.

They’d talked once already. Just a short conversation to get an idea of what they were looking at. This would be the two of them sitting down and seeing if they could work together. Herman had to sell the project to him, but equally, he’d have to sell himself to Herman if he wanted to tag along. Grant had put together a portfolio, but he knew none of his work was stand-out. Everything he’d done so far was technically proficient, not deeply inspirational. But his German was good and he thought his photos showed potential at least.

Grant looked towards Peggy, still smiling as she danced. Her night was just starting, and she had earned every moment of happiness and praise. He would have liked to spend a little more time with her, but he knew he wasn’t the only one proud of her tonight. “Tell her I’m sorry I left early?”

“You’re leaving?” Dum Dum asked in surprise.

“I’ve got a work thing.” Grant squeezed his shoulder. It was good to spend a night with the guys, but it had reminded him that they were doing something with their lives while he was sitting around.

Grant paused, fishing a five dollar bill out of his wallet and pressing it into Dum Dum’s hand. “You should grab bagels for everyone in the morning. You’ll all need the energy.”

“You mean our director is going to forget to eat.” Dugan was surprised that Grant wasn’t going to be the one solving the problem directly. Not that he thought any less of either of them. He’d just sort of assumed that Grant and Peggy would be having breakfast together.

Grant smiled at Peggy’s swirling skirt. Director. It sounded so perfect for the woman he loved. She was going to be brilliant. “If she’s not at work by seven tomorrow, I’ll eat your hat. And don’t forget she likes extra cream cheese.”

*****

Waving away another drink, Peggy looked around for Grant. And found he had drifted away from the group. Leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender as if he was closing his tab. She clenched her jaw. Part of her debated just staying with her party. A second, pettier part of her won out.

She didn’t storm over to him. But she did walk briskly, with firm steps. Head held high, shoulders back. “I thought we had agreed you wouldn't be a jealous ass.”

“What?” Grant was surprised to see Peggy. He’d thought she was still on the dance floor. Celebrating her success and enjoying her night. He was glad she’d found her way over to him though, he had been a little worried he’d have to interrupt to say goodbye.

Peggy planted a fist on her hip. What indeed. “We agreed that if we were going to be anything, you wouldn’t be a jealous ass. And yet here you are. Sulking and leaving the party first because I dared to dance with someone else.”

“I’m not jealous, Pegs.” And he wasn’t. Max wouldn’t be able to hold Peggy’s attention for more than a day or two. Grant wasn’t at all scared that a couple of dances would really turn her head. Sooner or later, he’d say or do something, and she’d lose her patience with him. “I have to be up early for work. You want one more before I close my tab?”

“Early for work?” Peggy was confused. Grant’s work schedule was completely free form. Even when he had meetings with an editor they were usually after lunch.

“I have a meeting.” Grant passed the bartender enough to cover his drinks along with a generous tip, since Peggy apparently didn’t want another. “Which reminds me, depending on how it goes, I might be out of town on Wednesday, maybe the week after too. We’ll have to do another rain check for lunch. I’ll keep you posted.

“Out of town? Why is the paper sending you out of town?” And why was this the first she was hearing about it?

“I don’t work for the paper.” As the editor had reminded him when he mentioned that the staff photographers got all the good assignments. But that man was right. If he wanted something good, he’d just have to find it himself.

Well, no he didn’t, but so far, they were the only ones buying his photos consistently. “Then who is sending you out of town?”

Not the printers he had sold his landmark shots to, surely. They were wonderful pictures, but Peggy doubted they had the budget to send him to take more anywhere outside the Boroughs. She supposed it could be Ayame. If there was something that she and her husbands couldn’t do that she was also worried about. Peggy would like to think she would have been looped in on that.

“No one is sending me anywhere.” That was the part of being freelance Grant liked the best so far. No one telling him where to go or what to do. He was his own boss. “One of the other freelance guys wants to do a piece on the reconstruction in Germany. We’re having breakfast and talking about my tagging along to take photos.”

“That’s why you’re going home…” He wasn’t upset because she’d danced with someone else. He was just busy with his own life. Separate from hers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It isn’t anything yet,” Grant shrugged. It was a promising idea, but he wasn’t even sure he’d go yet. He wanted to do work that mattered, but he needed to hear more from Herman before he agreed. He wanted to know what the story they were looking for was before he agreed to help tell it. Which was part of why he hadn’t told Peggy, but not the whole reason. “And you’ve been busy.”

She had. Peggy would be the first to admit that she had. She still would have wanted to hear about it. Except she had skipped lunch herself the last three weeks for one reason or another, and she hadn’t exactly been making it to dinner regularly either. The last time she had tried to spend the night he had… She had left when he had told her he wasn’t prepared for a visit, despite her not having given him a chance to prepare.

“I’ll let you know if we do need to reschedule.” Grant pecked her lightly on the cheek. A friendly gesture rather than a romantic one, given their audience.

Peggy couldn’t think of a single time that Grant had rescheduled on her. Certainly not just an open-ended rain check. And it wasn’t just their lunch. It was all their dinners. Their nights together. All put on hold indefinitely. “How long?”

“I don’t know.” He only had Herman’s initial pitch so far. Hashing out details of what they were trying to do would take time. If they came to an agreement, hashing out travel plans would take even longer. “Tomorrow afternoon some time? I’ll call and leave a message for your desk. Or should I send a telegram to the apartment? I pass the office for it on my way home anyway.”

As if he were worried that she might miss his call. She probably would miss his call, whoever was on phone duty would have to take a message. Which would mean he’d be infuriatingly cryptic rather than straight forward. Maybe Ayame was right. She did need a personal secretary. One she could trust so she didn’t have to interpret the meaning of every phone message. A problem to be dealt with at a different time. Right now, the issue wasn’t whether Grant could find a time in her schedule to update her. It was his leaving without warning. “How long will you be away?”

“Not sure. A couple of weeks.” Maybe longer, depending on how making contacts went. It wasn’t like he had anything urgent to hurry back to. And it would be worth it if the story was as good as Herman thought it could be.

Weeks. And he was going to leave without so much as a proper goodnight kiss? “Let me get my bag. We can—”

“Don’t worry about it, Pegs.” Grant knew she hadn’t been planning to spend the night at his place. Angie was here. Peggy wouldn’t want her roommate to put his face to why she wasn’t home two or three nights a week when she wasn’t too busy. After all, officially, she wasn’t seeing anyone. Let alone seeing anyone seriously enough to spend nights. Their lunches together were as friends. Angie might suspect, but there was no confirmation. “I have to be up early, and your public isn’t done with you.” In fact, it looked like the others were looking for her already. Max probably wanted to see if he could talk her into another dance. He was glad, Peggy deserved to relax and dance with a good partner.

“Grant…” Peggy’s hand itched to reach for him, but in this moment, she wasn’t sure he’d reach back. She wasn’t even sure he heard her as he shoved his wallet in his pocket and started towards the door.

“I’ll keep you posted,” Grant called back, waving to her one last time. “And have fun!. You earned it.”

*****

Last night, Pinky had teased Peggy about her job getting easier now that the title was officially hers. Peggy wished that were true. There were a dozen things she had put off in preparation for her review that now demanded her attention.

She also wished she had turned down the last two drinks of the night. The second one hadn’t felt like a good idea even when Dum Dum had poured it out of the bottle. But she had been trying to cover the fact that she was anxious and fuming over Grant’s departure. She wasn’t anxious or fuming. She just had a mild headache.

“Director Carter?” a voice asked from her door.

“Yes?” Peggy asked, opening another envelope from her inbox. Another duplicate report she would need to review for any additional details.

“There’s a call for you. One of the away teams, I think,” Aetos said with a crisp efficiency she appreciated.

There was always a call for her. Frequently from one of the away teams. “Transfer it to Thompson. He can brief me after.” Assuming he needed to. She appreciated the confidence in her, but she did wish the teams weren’t always looking for her to hold their hands.

“He said you’d say that. He said to tell you…” Aetos consulted his note pad with a frown. “That Undertone is ahead of schedule and Polaris needs a direct report.”

Peggy blanched. Her heart suddenly racing. There weren’t a lot of people who would use that particular code phrase. Only one really. “I’ll take the call here.”

Aetos nodded and headed back to his desk without question.

Peggy stared at her phone. Waiting for one of the lines to light up and for it to ring. She couldn’t miss this call. Not with everything she had already missed. He’d expected to leave a message. For him to signal to her rather than trust that she would get that message, it had to be important.

Finally, it rang and she clutched the handset to her ear before the sound finished. “This is Director Carter.”

“Is the line secure?” It was the voice she was expecting, but hard and professional.

Peggy knew that it would take Aetos a few seconds to hang up and he’d want to check that it had connected before he did. “Hold for report.”

Finally, there was a click, and they were alone on the call. “Grant?”

“Hey, Pegs,” Grant said more softly.

“What do you mean ahead of schedule?” His reference to Undertone* had to have something to do with his alleged trip to Germany. She couldn’t think of any other reason he was bringing up one of the most nerve-wracking periods of their time together. Months spent planning how to launch him directly at the German defensive line.

There was a pause, as if he were weighing his words. “Looks like I’m leaving earlier than expected.”

She was supposed to leave to finalize things in Boston on Saturday, but she could push it back. Move things around to see him. Maybe not tonight. But tomorrow, or maybe breakfast before her train. “When?"

“There’s a mail boat first thing tomorrow.” He said it softly. His tone an apology. “Herman got us tickets. It’s that or wait at least a week for anything decent.”

“Grant…” Peggy slumped against the edge of her desk. Tomorrow was too soon. He had only just told her he was planning to leave at all yesterday. She—

“You’ve got to work,” Grant finished for her. Knowing her better than she knew herself in the moment. “It’s fine, Pegs. I know you’re busy.”

“I can come over after.” It would be late, but she could.

“Don’t worry about it, Peggy. We’ve both got to be up early.” He didn’t even sound disappointed. Just resigned. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

Would they though? They hadn’t talked in weeks. Not really. Grant had tried. If Peggy gave herself time to think about it, she could see that he had. She hadn’t. She had been too busy for him.

She had been busy. And it had been important. It still was important. How could an attempt to revive Hydra and produce mind control drugs be anything but important?

But she could have spared five minutes to let him know what was going on. To talk to him.

“Be safe.” It wasn’t what she wanted to say. But she hadn’t said that since they had started whatever it was they were doing since his return. Saying it now… with his indefinite departure imminent… it felt too vulnerable.

“You too,” Grant answered rather than say the unsaid himself. Because he felt it too. The tenuous energy running between them. “And, Peggy?”

“Yes?” The single word felt hard to get out. Her anxiety clutching all communication close to her chest. It was nothing like the last time he had left her for somewhere in Europe. The war was over. He was just going to take some photos. He’d come home safe.

“We really do need to talk when I get back.” Grant sounded serious, and more regretful than he had their entire conversation.

They did. She’d be the first to admit it. “We will.”

Peggy waited until she heard the click of the line disconnecting before she set down her own handset. It felt painfully final. Too much like a radio signal cutting out.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn’t final. And it also wasn’t a problem she could solve today. Grant would go to Germany. And when he got back… they would talk…

For now… Peggy straightened her spine. The picture of English composure. “Aetos?”

Aetos poked his head back into her office. Expression expectant and ready.

“Have you seen the Albany report?” Peggy shifted the papers on her desk to make sure she wasn’t just overlooking it. “I’m missing a page.”

Notes:

*Operation Undertone was the code name for the Western Allied invasion of Germany during March of 1945.

Chapter 49: Germany

Grant couldn’t help grinning as he turned his camera on the children playing in the street. Herman was deep in conversation with their parents. Talking to them about how strange it was to live in a country divided the way it was. What life was like in a world ‘at peace’ but under occupation. The dichotomy was obvious when you were on the ground. Like the scene in front of him. Four smiling, laughing children kicking a soccer ball around rough cobblestones, and behind them the jagged remains of a bombed-out apartment building, the half-collapsed wall deemed stable enough that it wasn’t an immediate risk, but still striking against the sky. Herman would find the words to tell their country about the aftermath of the war; Grant would find the images. And it would matter. He knew there were people who wanted to withdraw all aid for the ruined country. But how could they when that aid was the only reason these children were being fed. It was an expensive undertaking, but if they left Europe without a way to get back on their feet, some other mad man would step up to the plate and claim that he could. And then they’d be back in the same situation that had led to war in the first place.

He took a few more photos. A mother pushing a pram away from him. The makeshift street sign on the corner letting people know that this was a dead end which it hadn’t been before the British had built a position on the far corner. A little girl and her ragged doll that had clearly been through more than a toy should. It finished off his roll of film. That was fine. That was why he’d brought as many as he had.

“Got anything good?” Herman asked, jogging down the stairs from the significantly more intact building where he had been conducting interviews.

Grant shrugged. He didn’t like to brag. Especially not when he didn’t have proof to back up his hubris, but he felt good about everything he had taken today. “I’ll have to fix the film before I can light box them and see, but I think we should have one or two. You?”

“These people’s stories…” Herman shook his head. “They’re heart-breaking. They lost everything to the war, but they’re still so happy.”

“And that’s here.” Grant fell into step with him as they headed back towards their hotel. He’d stick a towel under the bathroom door when they got back. It wasn’t the best makeshift dark room, but it would be good enough to get the film fixed so they could look at what they had. “You have to wonder what it’s like where the fighting was worse.”

“I don’t know what front you were on, but it was pretty bad here,” Herman laughed. The laugh of a man who knew if he didn’t laugh about something, he’d have to cry about it.

“I was here. Friend of mine got shot about two blocks over.” Just a graze, Junior had been fine. At least he had been mostly fine until Bucky had torn a strip off of him for not keeping his head down. Buck had been so laid back about most things that the team sometimes forgot that he was a sergeant. Right up until he reminded them all with a blistering lecture. Buck wasn’t usually harsh, but the kid had scared them. He thought it had been a nice change for Monty to get to play the sympathetic one rather than the hard ass. “Trust me, the fighting was worse in the Pacific.”

“Maybe we head there next,” Herman said, elbowing him familiarly in the ribs.

“We’d need a translator. My German is better than my Cantonese.” He probably couldn’t get away with stealing Ayame, but she might know someone who could help.

“Sounds like you’re planning it already.” Herman grinned at him. Gears clicking behind his eyes as he started planning it himself.

Maybe he was. He’d felt more like himself this week than he had since he’d gotten back to New York. He felt... productive. Useful in a way he hadn’t been wandering around trying to get his bearings. “It’s nice to be out of the city.”

Tank treads did a number on cobblestone. Even two years later, a lot of the major roads were still in disrepair. Dodging around a particularly cracked section of ground, Grant spotted something interesting. A brightly coloured rack in front of a crowded corner store. Bright enough to spark a memory. And an idea.

Grant elbowed Herman and nodded to the store. “You mind if we stop? I need to pick something up.”

*****

Peggy’s heart almost stopped when she saw the brightly coloured postcard sticking out of the stack of envelopes on the counter. She hastened to grab it while ignoring everything else that had been in the mail.

She had seen the scene in the illustration before. A building rising from the middle of a river. Rows of pointed windows looking down over the water. A pair of arched steel bridges connecting the island to the shore on either side. Green copper roofs bright against the tall brick buildings that lined both the island and the sides of the river.

Peggy touched the blocky white letters running along the bottom of the card. Confirmation that she really did recognise the vista. And that it was from who she thought it was.

The Speicherstast, Hamburg

It looked different without blockades on the bridges. No smoke hanging in the air or rubble in the streets.

…Without the man she loved rushing forward to help her out of the jeep she had arrived in. His smile glowing through the grime on his face. His hands closing around her waist and sweeping her into the air like she weighed absolutely nothing. Like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Peggy turned over the postcard… and felt swept off her feet all over again.

Lot nicer than the last time we were here.

Still not sure when we’ll be back. We’re getting so much good stuff over here. I haven’t had a chance to actually develop anything, but even just the negatives are amazing. I know that’s bragging, but you’re too far away to smack me for getting a big head. Besides, it’s not me. A monkey could take a good photo here. All you have to do is turn around and point and there is something worth documenting.

I miss you. Maybe it’s breaking our rules to say. But I do. I fall asleep thinking about you. I wake up thinking about you. I always do when I’m away. I want to know everything that has happened. How have your first weeks been? What happened with Boston?

You’re my first stop when I get home. You are home.

I love you.

Grant

Oh, that infuriating man. Almost three weeks and the first she heard from him was a postcard?

A sweet, wonderful postcard. Peggy touched the bold strokes of his familiar handwriting. She could very nearly see his smile in the strokes of his pen. The one he only wore when they were too busy to sleep, and all their kisses were stolen on the run. His 4 a.m. flight smile. His soot-streaked face when she met him on the front smile. The one she loved and hadn’t seen in years.

Carefully, Peggy tucked the postcard into her work bag. It could replace the one from Chicago on her desk.

*****

Peggy collapsed back in her chair. She had been working since eight, having come in early to get some things done before her first planning call with Houston. It had been a brilliant plan. And then all her ‘extra’ time disappeared trying to get through the mail overflowing her inbox. The section chief for the Houston SSR office was ten minutes late to the call, especially irritating when she had already spent nearly the same length of time waiting for the trunk call to connect. Half of one of her precious hours lost to pointless waiting. Not only had he been late, the chief had been irritatingly standoffish about the whole affair. He had his orders, and he would follow them, but he wasn’t going to make her life easy.

Then all the time she had scheduled to use for planning the integration of the other new offices had vanished in a flurry of fires that all needed putting out. Her afternoon disappeared in a hail of repetitive reports. Just one thing after another with hardly anything that felt like progress.

Now it was nearly midnight, and she hadn’t actually accomplished anything. Well, hadn’t finished anything. She had made progress, but that was all it was. Progress on endless ongoing projects, a handful of actual fires put out, and more things that the people responsible thought were fires identified as non-issues.

With an exhausted sigh, Peggy pushed back from her desk. Half-heartedly starting to tidy her desk. It hardly seemed worth it. Not when she would be back in less than eight hours. Maybe she should just leave it like this. That way she wouldn’t have to find where she was when she came back after the nap that would pass for sleep tonight.

No. Better to put everything back where it belonged. Start fresh in the morning. If nothing else, if she left it like this, she was bound to trip over something on her way in. There were papers all around her on the floor.

A bright rectangle halfway across the floor caught her attention. Her postcard from Grant lay on the floor. Knocked over and fallen. Probably wafted further away from her when she had tossed a stack of reports over the side of her desk to make more room. When it had fallen, she couldn’t have said. She hadn’t noticed. She had knocked it off her desk and she hadn’t even noticed.

Carefully, Peggy picked up the postcard and flipped it over. Eyes falling to the last words of the message.

I love you.

Reading those words for the first time in years... They’d made her heart feel so wonderfully warm all over. Through everything, their time apart, the radical change in their world, her reticence and distraction, he still loved her. Still thought about her every day.

And she hadn’t even noticed that she had knocked his beautiful postcard off her desk while she was working.

She hadn’t even noticed that he wanted to leave until it was too late to so much as say a proper goodbye. Hadn’t noticed that he was struggling while she was busy chasing her dream. With him gone, she could see just how much she had taken for granted. She could also see just how empty her life was without him.

She had promised herself she would do better when he got back.

But would she? Or would she ignore that he had promised to make her dinner because she had too much to do? Would she forget their lunch the day after and leave him sitting alone at the restaurant?

Or would she leave work undone in favour of chasing her own pleasure?

Tears prickled Peggy’s eyes. She couldn’t do it all. She wanted too much. With the fate of the universe on the line, as well as her sanity, she couldn’t step back from the job.

She would have to give him up.

The words on the postcard were hazy through a film of growing moisture.

I love you.

And she loved him. So much it hurt to think about. Like gripping onto a burning ember. Painful, but without it, her world would be so cold. She hadn’t told him. Not since she had gotten him back. She couldn’t. Not if she couldn’t have him.

Oh, but she wanted him. All that steady love and respect. The belief that never wavered even when her own did. And she wanted to be the one that he showed his art to. She remembered the magic of his first developed negatives. The way he had lit up with pride. Her own wonder at how perfect the pictures were.

There had to be a way. He’d taken her name. Their friends from the future had encouraged him to take her name. There had to be a way to make it work. Peggy was just too lost in the trees to see it.

She needed a friend right now. She needed hope. Someone outside the forest that she could talk to. Maybe they couldn’t tell her how to solve her problem. But they could give her a heading. If nothing else, there was no one else she could call at this time of night.

It took a painfully long time for the line to connect.

“Winters’ residence.” Thankfully, it was Ayame who answered this time. Peggy wasn’t at all sure she would have been able to keep herself together if it had been Steve’s too familiar voice that had met her.

“I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. But there is just so much work.” Peggy blurted it out without thinking. Fully aware that any hesitation would lead to the tears breaking through and her being unable to get the words out at all.

“And you love the work too.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Because Ayame understood. Like no one else possibly could, she understood.

“Yes.” Peggy breathed the word around the lump rising in her throat. This was it. This was her dream. But so was he. For so long, both had seemed impossible. Now, either of them was within her reach, and the idea of choosing petrified her.

*****

Ayame stretched, moving out of the position she’d been holding for the first time in an hour. With Bucky asleep in the bedroom, she and Steve had been having a quiet moment together before Peggy had called. Ayame had been posing for Steve to draw for the first time in years. She wouldn’t move now, except this call was important. “You need a secretary.”

“Don’t start on that again.” Peggy’s response was halfway between a snap and a sob.

She didn’t see the point. That was fair. Ayame had thought it was obvious, but apparently, she needed to spell it out. “How much of your day do you spend opening letters? Not even reading them. Just physically opening. How long do you spend reviewing reports on the same mission looking for differences? How much time do you waste waiting for whoever you just called to get to the phone? Even just looking up numbers and waiting to get the call connected? All that is stuff a good secretary could and should be doing for you. Time you can get back.”

Steve grinned down at his sketchbook. He knew that speech. He’d been on the receiving end of that speech. It had ended with Ayame sending him a dozen resumes. His wife was big on the value of delegating tasks she wasn’t good at to other people so that she could focus on her strengths.

Ayame ignored Steve. Peggy was clearly on the verge of a breakthrough. All she needed was a little nudge and she’d stumble her way into happiness. Hopefully with significantly less silently ‘crying in the shower or exercising to the point of exhaustion so she didn’t have to think about anything’ than Ayame had managed. Loving her husband was easy in theory, hard in execution. “You can’t do it all. So, don’t. Do the important parts and let someone you trust handle the little things.”

Steve chuckled. Okay, that part she’d stolen from him. He remembered using almost exactly that wording when he’d had to talk her down last year. She had been agonising over how to balance the girls’ homework with trying to wrangle her parliament. He’d reassured her as much as he could with an ocean between them. And she’d made it work in the end.

Ayame threw a pillow at her husband. He batted it aside. But the point was made. She was trying to listen to Peggy’s concerns, and he was being distracting.

“There is some difficulty in finding someone I can trust who would also be willing to take on that particular role.” Peggy said. Her syllables still clipped, but calmer now.

Oh, now that Ayame had an answer for. Peggy was as bad as Grant when it came to utilizing her network, and it meant her network wasn’t living up to their potential as a result. “You don’t know a single person who’s smart enough to do the work, wasted in their current job, and can improv with the best of them?”

*****

Admittedly, Peggy could think of one person who met that description. Someone she trusted with more than her life. “She’d hate it.”

“She’d love it,” Ayame countered.

She would. All the secrets. The game of it. And Peggy didn’t doubt that she could do the practical work of it. She might even take the shorthand class her father kept threatening if she knew what all was on the other side. And it wasn’t like she would be asking her to give up her dream exactly. Just direct the talent in a specific direction. Answering the outside phone line would put her improvisation skills to the test.

And Peggy would have to read her in on at least the basics of her job in order to interview her. So even if she didn’t take the job, Peggy would be able to speak more freely around her. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

*****

“How’s Peggy?” Steve asked once the women had said their farewells. Carefully shading the arch of Ayame’s neck on the page. He liked that his girls seemed to get along. He liked it even more that Ayame seemed to be helping Peggy work through the same issue she had at home.

Setting the phone back on the side table, Ayame carefully arranged her skirt. “She’s alright.”

“You going to take your own advice and delegate more?” She was pretty good about letting Yuma tackle little things. But there were still a lot of things she could pass off. More emails someone else could answer. More calls she didn’t have to take herself. And her cabinet didn’t need babysitting nearly as much as she acted like they did. They weren’t even her cabinet anymore. They were her cousin’s problem now. She could check in, but she didn’t need to hold their hands. And Dai was back. She could entrust him with a lot of things that had dominated her time.

“What do you want from me?” Amy hardly knew what to do with herself when she wasn’t working. He knew what she was like when she didn’t have something to keep her busy.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Steve scooped her into his arms and sat back down on the couch with her straddling his lap. Pretty sun dress rucked up around her thighs. “And I’d rather do it with you on the same side of the office door as me.”

Amy smoothed her hands over his chest. There was that. “You love me.”

“I do.” He slid his hand up the outside of her thigh under her skirt. He brushed his nose against her jaw. Gratified when she turned her face to match her lips to his. Their kiss deep and pure. A tangible example of why he didn’t want to go back to a life where he never got to see her.

A ball of heat and love started in Ayame’s chest. Only growing as it sank lower in her body. “Steve.”

God, he loved when his wife said his name like that. Like he was everything she wanted, and she didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have him that very moment. His hand moved from her hip to the button of his pants. “You want me to show you how good it can be if we’re together?”

“I love you,” Ayame breathed by way of answer. Because he was right. She was going to have both her boys and her baby when they got home. Taking time for them was important. And because she needed him in this moment.

More than enough of an answer for Steve. He shoved his pants down just far enough to give them access. Her hand wrapped around his shaft as soon as it was free. He pushed her panties to the side so he could stroke and finger her to readiness. She was dripping wet already. But so tight around his fingers.

He stroked and caressed her with knowing hands. Keeping his eyes on hers even as she slipped the bodice of her dress down to her waist. He knew the signs of growing pleasure on her face. The subtle shifts that told him just how much she wanted him. Her hands stroked him in turn. Knowing him as well as he knew her, if not better.

No need for dirty talk or direction. Just the two of them, moving together as naturally as they always did. Until the growing heat between them reached an inferno. That was what Steve loved

“Ready for me, beautiful?” Steve panted. Because he needed her. And not just her hands. He loved her hands. Right now, he needed all of her.

Without wasting time on words, Amy rose up on her knees. Shifting so they were aligned. She sank down onto him.

When they had discussed the amount of time they would need to spend away from their home century, they had agreed that having another baby should wait until they were back. They had said that they would be careful. Use protection and make sure they didn’t do anything that put Amy at risk while they were working. And yet in this moment, neither of them could even imagine getting up to get a condom.

Amy’s eyes fluttered closed as Steve started to move under her. His hands firm on her hips. The brush of scattered kisses over her chest and shoulders sent electric thrills tingling over her skin. She was nothing but molten bliss. Only held together by him.

Steve’s world narrowed to Amy. The points of connection between them. The sound of her sighing pleasure. The love that always flowed between them when they were together like this. More than physical. The promise of their forever flowing between them. Of everything they could be together in this century and in the century that was their home.

A hand ran down Steve’s chest from behind. A second set of lips brushed against his ear. “Fuck, Stevie. Trying to kill me putting on a show like this?”

Amy’s eyes opened and immediately filled with love. Her Bucky, awake and here. With them in this and all things. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”

Bucky reached past Steve to cradle her head. He knew. They were both so precious about his sleep. Which he appreciated. But there was no way in hell that he was staying in bed when he could join them out here. “Why would I sleep when all my dreams are coming true out here?”

With the predatory grace Ayame adored, Bucky climbed over the back of the couch. Dropping down next to Steve. Eyes roving down their bodies to where they met. And noticing something interesting. Curiously, Bucky lifted the hem of Amy's skirt higher to give himself a better view. Yeah, that was what he’d thought it was. “Why you being risky with my girl, punk? Thought we agreed to be safe ‘til we were back home.”

“You wanted me to make her wait while I went to get protection?” He meant make both of them wait. Because Steve had been the one who hadn’t been able to. If he’d asked, Amy would have gotten them something. If she had even hesitated, he would have gotten one for her. But that would have meant letting her go, and he hated the idea. Hated the idea of depriving her of a second of pleasure when she was so viscerally enthusiastic.

Amy blushed and ducked her head, looking at Bucky as innocently as she could manage. She knew what they had said. But she had wanted her Taii and hadn’t wanted to interrupt their moment. They had only just given up using condoms and she already resented the loss of time and contact.

“No patience. That’s your problem.” Bucky leaned in to kiss the side of Steve’s neck. Not that he wanted to make either of them wait. He just hadn’t realized he was the responsible one here.

Steve let his head fall back, giving Bucky more access. Which felt amazing. And wasn’t doing anything to stop him finishing deep inside Amy. Worse, finishing before she did. “Buck.”

Bucky chuckled and nipped at Steve’s neck. “What’s wrong, Stevie?”

“Bed.” Steve managed to get the single word out around the fire raging in his chest. His people. God, he loved his people. Individually, they were amazing. His fierce girl, always hungry for him, always a tiger in bed. His stubborn guy, so closed off with everyone else, so passionate and playful with them.

A wolfish grin spread across Bucky’s face, and he relinquished Steve’s neck. Just for now. Instead, he slid his hand into Amy’s hair. Cradling her head gently as watched the bliss that glazed her eyes. “What do you think, baby girl? Should I reward his delinquency?”

Amy leaned into his touch. Melting into them both. “I love you.”

That was what Bucky liked to hear. He wrapped his arm around Amy’s waist and plucked her from Stevie’s hold. Throwing her over his shoulder and reversing his journey over the back of the couch. Confident that Steve was right behind him.

More than confident when he felt Ayame reach out and start kissing Steve again. If there was a better way to wake up from a nap, Bucky couldn’t think of it.

Bucky took Amy himself almost before they made it to the bed. Pyjamas pushed down around his thighs. The only delay the time it took to grab a condom and make a show of being responsible and putting it on. Call him selfish, but Stevie had already had his turn. He also rolled them so she was on top. She’d looked so pretty riding Stevie. And his girl did love to be on top.

Not that Stevie seemed to mind. Dropping down next to Bucky and slipping his arm under Bucky’s head. His lips back on Bucky’s as soon as he did.

Bucky broke the kiss just long enough to strip Amy’s dress off over her head.. Pretty riding Steve. Prettier naked and riding him. She seemed to like her view too. Based on the way she purred and ran her hands over his chest.

Bucky let Amy set her own pace, and wrapped his hand around Steve’s shaft instead. Steve resumed the kiss. The three of them joined together and moving ceaselessly towards their pinnacle.

Unlike Steve with his unnecessary risks, Bucky was being responsible. He had a condom. Which meant he didn’t have to miss out on a moment with his girl. He could stay deep inside her right to the end. Just like he could keep his hand and lips on Steve ‘til the end. Be with them both through every ounce of pleasure.

Theirs and his. He felt Steve tighten in his hold at the same time he bucked up into Ayame. She collapsed over their chests a moment later. Her head landing on Steve, her body weight still on Bucky.

Bucky kissed each of them on the cheek, soft and tender. He’d take a minute to cuddle, then he’d pass Aims to Stevie and go get something to clean her up. That was all the time she’d give them anyway. His girl was fastidious when it came to being sticky. Once she was clean, they could fall into a happy and content pile and finish his nap the way it deserved to be finished. “Love you.”

*****

Peggy’s office was as neat as it ever was. Yes, her inbox was threateningly full. But she was ignoring that for the moment. Everything in it could wait until after this ‘interview.’ For that matter, if it went the way Peggy hoped it would, she wouldn’t have to open half the envelopes herself.

Not that it was going as well as she would like. Angie had seemed excited when Peggy had asked her to come in for what was ostensibly an interview. Now she seemed more incredulous than anything. Not the reaction Peggy wanted when she had already made up her mind to hire Angie and had planned for this to be largely a formality. Well, a formality and a chance to bring Angie up to speed on what the job actually entailed.

“Are you kidding me?” Angie crossed her arms over her chest. She hadn’t thought English was one for bad jokes, and this wasn’t funny. “You had me convinced I was signing my life away making me fill in that contract before you’d let me come in. If you’re going to joke, at least make it believable.”

“Its not a joke,” Peggy answered calmly. She supposed she hadn’t realized just how ridiculous the whole thing must sound to an outsider. It was rather a lot if one didn’t know the scope of the issue.

“Oh yeah? Captain America’s old team is putting together an agency to protect the country from mad scientists and you want me to be what? The girl who gets the coffee?” Angie scoffed. She was an actress and a waitress, not a super secret agent.

“Executive secretary to the director,” Peggy corrected, straightening her pen. They had probationary agents to get the coffee.

“Why would the guy want me?” Angie scoffed gesturing at her cotton dress and home knit cardigan. Her dad wanted her to get a nice stable office job. Angie knew she wasn’t cut out for a boring life like that.

“I want you.” Peggy lifted her chin stiffly. She had expected to have to defend her position. But not to Angie. “The little party we had a few weeks ago was to celebrate my being officially promoted to Director.”

Puzzle pieces clicked together in Angie’s head. All the former soldiers calling Peggy ‘boss.’ The fact that Peggy hadn’t given her any tips on how to impress the person she was interviewing with. Even with all that laid out in front of her, it still didn’t sound real. Not just that glamorous Peggy didn’t work for anything as bland as a phone company. That made total sense. But... “You’re the director.”

“Yes,” Peggy said simply. Her name was on the door. Crisp black lettering on the fluted glass. It had felt like a silly cosmetic detail when Thompson and Dugan had insisted on it. But it made Peggy’s heart sing every time she saw it. Apparently, Angie hadn’t noticed it.

“Everyone out there answers to you?” Angie pointed back towards the office door. Because Angie had noticed the full office. The number of men bustling around. There were a handful of women too, all typing away at the end by the windows. But it was mostly men. And they all seemed pretty happy with their lives. Laughing and joking with their colleagues rather than glaring at the office like they resented the person in charge.

Pride squared Peggy’s shoulders. Everyone out there, and a number of people beyond. “This is just the New York office. It could be considered the head office, but we are currently in the process of integrating several other offices from different organisations. We’re expecting to finish the process with Boston by the end of the week. After that we are looking at Chicago, Houston, and Atlanta in the next two months, with even more offices to follow. I intend for us to be fully national by the end of the year.”

“How did you con them into that?” Not that Angie didn’t think Peggy could do the job. She was just surprised that the suits that handed out the money had seen it.

“It helped…” Peggy swallowed, looking down at the post card propped against her lamp. If Angie was going to be her secretary, she needed to know everything. Or at least everything that was an open secret in the office. Not Grant’s secret, that was purely between her and their old team. But the gossip the rest of the staff would be sure to whisper. Angie would need to know if she was going to do her job efficiently. “It helped that I worked closely with Captain Rogers during the war.” If he were here, she was sure Grant would argue that their connection wasn’t the only reason they had let her have her dream. But she couldn’t shake the thought that she’d never have the position without him. She wasn’t sure she even wanted it without him in her corner. Which was why Ayame was right, and she needed a secretary. So that she had time to be in his as well.

“Captain Rogers?” So, there was a guy. And an important one if their relationship had help Peggy qualify for the job. They’d probably kept everything purely professional in public, the same way Peggy acted like she and Grant were just friends. But Angie knew her English. There had probably been a passionate love affair behind the scenes. Of course, those almost weekly ‘friendly’ lunches with Grant meant something had gone wrong at some point. But that’s what happened with really passionate affairs, they burned bright but short.

“Steve Rogers.” Peggy’s voice broke on the last syllable. The love of her life, who she had lost, and got back, and who was a world away again. Who truly believed she could do this job. And who she had ignored in her desperation to prove it to herself. “You might know him better as Captain America.”

“Oh.” Angie had been picturing an older guy who went back to his normal life after they’d gotten back to the States. Someone well-respected on the European front who had recognised Peggy’s brilliance and raised her up. Which she supposed was sort of true. Just instead of going back to his wife after, he’d… “Is that why you hate the radio series so much?”

“Why on earth would you take a sewing machine to the front lines? Can you think of a single thing that would be more inconvenient to carry or less necessary? You’re being shot at! Now is not the time to worry about hemming curtains!” Peggy couldn’t help smiling, even as she finally gave full voice to the rant she had suppressed for so long. It would be wonderful to have Angie working alongside her. She loved her team, and Rose was priceless, but there was something to be said for having a woman her own age around.

And Angie wouldn’t hesitate to tell her off for being pig-headed. She could count on her friend to help her find a balance.

Chapter 50: A Negotiated Truce

It was late, but not so late that Peggy needed to feel guilty about the fact she was avoiding her bed. When they had moved in together, officially rather than just being mutual guests of Howard Stark, Peggy had been happy to give Angie the larger room. After all, given her hours, she was really only home to sleep most days. But that did mean that her own room was more like a closet than a real retreat. She had suffered through it for secrecy when she brought work home with her. But there was less need for it now that Angie had full clearance, and no need for it tonight.

Tonight, she was relaxing. Reading a magazine and not thinking about work. Or why she was relaxing in her own apartment rather than her preferred escape. Grant was in Germany, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him on the subject of his return.

If she went to bed… It had been over two months since she had spent a full night with Grant, but somehow, when she closed her eyes, she could almost feel him tucked against her back like a matched pair of spoons. Her pillow transformed into his arm in her dreams. The distant sounds of the city that echoed down the air shaft distorting until they sounded like him whispering praise and reassurance into her sleepy ear.

No. There was no point in going to bed. She would either lay there, wishing she weren’t alone. Or lay there thinking about work.

A knock at the apartment door drew her away from her brooding. An irritating interruption that forced her to unfold herself from her seat. She expected it to repeat as she crossed the sitting room, but apparently the person on the other side of the door wasn’t feeling overly demanding. They waited patiently for her to peek through the spy hole.

Peggy gasped in surprise. She knew that figure. She’d know it anywhere. Her hand shook as she hurried to answer the door. “Grant.”

Not wasting time on pointless hellos, Grant scooped an arm around her waist, dragging her in against him. His mouth finding hers in a heartbeat. The kiss long and deep. Everything he’d missed in the last two months.

Her arms went around his neck, almost instinctually. Clinging to him. Kissing him back with all the longing she had felt since he had left. When his hands slid down to her body, she moved with him. Letting him hook one of her legs around his hip and pin her to the wall next to her door, although it left her balanced precariously on the ball of her foot. He’d never let her fall. If she lifted the other leg, and wrapped it around him too, he’d take her entire weight. Hold her tight and support her through everything.

The hand holding her leg moved higher. Sliding under the hem of her skirt. His fingers curling into the top of her stockings. The burn of his touch on her skin shocked Peggy back into sense.

“We can’t do this here,” she panted, hands unwilling to release their hold on his shirt. They were standing in her hallway. This building was less strict than the one she had gotten herself and Angie evicted from, but it was still a respectable place.

“Invite me in or kick me out, Carter.” Grant pushed her hair off her neck. Dipping his head to kiss the soft skin he’d missed so much. He’d missed saying her name too. Every time someone had called him by it while he was away, he’d thought of her.

Peggy froze for a moment. Invite him in or kick him out. A tipping point. Her chance to decide if she wanted to make this work or let him go.

Peggy grabbed his hand. In. She wanted in, not out.

She pulled him tentatively inside. It had always been her invited into his space. Even during the war, their meetings had been on neutral territory. As much time as they’d spent together, he had never seen the inside of her flat. Neither the hall, nor the room where she had been sitting held any real importance. Peggy led him through both with little time to look around. Not that he did. With every step they took, Grant’s eyes were fixed on her. She ignored the lamp and book she had abandoned to answer the door. Squeezing his hand as she tugged him through the apartment.

And into the private space of her bedroom. Her most intimate sanctuary. Here, nerves overcame her. She dropped his hand. Retreating to perch on the edge of her bed.

Grant looked around the cosy space. So full of Peggy. Her clothes spilling out of dresser and closet. The blankets and pillows looked just how he had imagined them. He could picture her sitting on the thick carpet with her work spread around her. Even the air smelt like her perfume. The clutter of the dressing table drew him like the glittering treasure of Aladdin's cave. Silver brushes. Tiny bottles of mysterious liquid. An open jewellery box. A pretty patterned silk scarf.

There was a single photo tucked into the frame of the mirror. A photo of him... His enlistment photo from before the serum. When he’d been small and sick and the only people who had seen value in him were Bucky and Doctor Erskine. And apparently, Peggy. They’d barely talked before. Hadn’t come close to kissing until they were both overseas. But she’d seen him. And when she’d wanted a memento for the man she had lost, this was the one she had chosen. Not any of the glossy head shots or carefully staged photos from his Captain America days. She had saved the last photo anyone had taken of the real him. Kept it safe the same way he kept the photo of her in his compass safe.

Peggy watched him study the contents of her dressing table. It didn’t seem as odd as she had thought it would, having him here. Not that he belonged in this space exactly. But she could see how things could be rearranged to make space for him. His dresser next to her dressing table. Their shoes next to each other by the door. And she did love stealing his shirts for lounging on the weekend. “What are you thinking?”

Grant turned around to face her. A soft warmth growing in his stomach. He was thinking he needed a new photo to go in his camera bag. Something more personal than her official military ID headshot. Something for their new life. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” Peggy blushed and looked up at him through her lashes. She had missed him.

Grant came to stand over her. Stroking his fingers tenderly along the line of her jaw. “Thought about you every day when I was away.”

“What did you think about?” Peggy had thought about him too. How many times a day had she wished she could talk to him? How many nights had she woken up devastated to find that he was only in her dreams?

Grant sank slowly down in front of her. Low as the bed was, their heads were nearly level with him on his knees and her sitting. He’d thought about a lot of things. He kissed her neck as he started on her buttons. “Dinner, twice a week if we are in the same country. No exceptions, no excuses. I don’t care if I have to fly out to the West Coast to meet you. We eat together.”

“What are you doing?” Peggy asked breathlessly. She could hear and understand the words he was saying, but they didn’t entirely make sense in the context of his roaming hands.

“Negotiating,” Grant growled, unclipping one of the suspenders holding up her stockings. Something he had been giving almost as much thought to as how to make the two of them work. “I have demands if we’re going to keep doing this.”

“Demands like eating together?” Peggy was finding it hard to focus on much of anything with him tickling the back of her knee. She loved when he touched that exact spot.

Not just eating together. Grant kissed the side of her knee. Carefully rolling the nylon of her stocking down around her ankle. “And we talk while we eat. About your day. About my day. About what our weeks look like. I don’t want to be blindsided by your calendar anymore.”

Peggy pushed him back on his heels. Her breath still ragged. “I have demands of my own.”

“What do you need, Pegs?” Grant dragged the second stocking off her leg. The smoulder low in his body growing hotter as his hand slid against bare skin.

Demands. She was sure she had demands. Other than him to get on with it and bloody finger her already. Cruel of him to do this now, with her head spinning from his touch. It had been nearly two months since she’d been in his bed. She had been ready for him since that first heady kiss at the door. No part of her brain was clear enough for coherent negotiations. He had warned her that they needed to talk. She should have considered this aspect beforehand. Not that she wasn’t willing to give him everything he asked for. Reasonable requests all. But she wanted things too. She swore she did. She just couldn’t remember them in this moment.

“Postcards.” She blurted the word without really thinking through what it meant as a demand. But that little coloured card had been the brightest moment of his absence.

“Postcards?” Grant asked, shifting to toy with her other garter strap. His beautiful, stubborn girl.

“You abandoned me for a month and a half, and all I got was one bloody postcard. I want more.” And she wanted him. By God, but she wanted him. “If you’re out of the country, I want postcards.”

Grant lunged upward. Pinning Peggy to the bed and kissing her senseless. “I will send you as many postcards as you want. On one condition.”

“Condition?” Peggy breathed. God, this man. She had missed this man.

“Say we’re together, Pegs.” Grant kissed her again. A single, pure press of his lips to hers. “Say you’re mine. I don’t want to just be your friend, I want to be your partner and your lover.”

Peggy burrowed her hands into his hair. She loved this impossible man. “I’m yours.”
Grant let her take control of the kiss. Let her set the rhythm and pace for the next act of their reunion.

In response, Peggy pulled him closer. Guided his hand back to the hem of her skirt. Lay back in her bed so they could close the space between them. All time was lost in a haze of love and kisses. Hands roaming slowly as they refamiliarized themselves with each other. There was a world outside this room. But nothing about that world mattered. Not in the face of them.

*****

Peggy rolled over to nestle closer to Grant’s side. “One a day.”

“Hmm?” Grant stroked her spine. This bed was too small for the two of them. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable night he’d ever spent. It was still better than anywhere he’d slept in over a month.

Peggy wrapped her arms around the barrel of his chest. The warmth of him relaxing her body. “I want a postcard a day when you’re away.”

“One a day,” Grant agreed. A simple thing to keep his girl happy. Hell, he’d send two a day if it made her smile.

“I missed you,” Peggy yawned. Her eyes fluttering closed. She meant ‘I love you.’ He’d told her in his postcard. She should tell him in turn. It was so very hard to keep her eyes open. She’d tell him in the morning.

Grant kissed her curls as she nuzzled sleepily against him. “I missed you too.”

Peggy purred and pressed herself even closer to him, already dreaming peacefully.

*****

Peggy was at home. Her robe was on the back of her bedroom door. And yet she was in the kitchen wearing nothing but her underwear and Grant’s shirt. Grant usually drank coffee in the morning, but they were in her home, so she was making tea. Tea, toast with jam, and some beautiful early spring strawberries.

Grant had joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the edge of the counter shirtless. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. Once she had everything put together, they would retreat back to her bedroom. Cuddle up together and feed each other the little treats. A lovely way to start the day.

Grant watched Peggy fish the bag out of the teapot with a spoon. Stopping it from over steeping and getting bitter. A simple domestic act. The sort of thing she did every day. Just not usually with him. “This is so surreal.”

“What do you mean?” Peggy laughed. Tempted to forget breakfast and drag him back to her bed without any sustenance. After all, why would she need food when she could have her mouth on him.

“Keep waiting for the bubble to burst.” Grant crossed the small space to her. Lifted her hand to his face. “For you to tell me to leave.” He kissed the soft sensitive inside of her wrist. He’d been so blinded by the joy of having her back last night, he hadn’t let the doubts shake his belief that they could make it work. But they were back now. Clenching his stomach into a cold knot. “That we can’t have this because… I don’t know, you have to get to the office or something. That everything that happened in the last twelve hours was just a dream.”

Peggy curled her fingers into his beard. It almost felt like it had grown even thicker while he was away. It was seven in the morning on a Saturday, and he had been gone for more than a month. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. “I have been working too much lately.”

“It’s not the work, Pegs.” And it wasn’t. Grant would never want to take her away from her job. She loved it, and he loved that she loved it. “It’s feeling like I was alone in working on us.”

“Hence your negotiations.” Negotiations where he’d never actually asked her to work less. He’d said that he would come to her if she had to travel. He'd asked to have at least some claim on her time.

“I was serious, Pegs. If you’re not in this…” Grant stroked her cheek. Trying to memorise her in case this was the last time he got to see her like this. “We can’t live in limbo forever. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Grant…” There was so much pain in his eyes. Peggy hated to think she might be the cause.

“It’s not a threat, or an ultimatum,” Grant said calmly. And it wasn’t. He didn’t want her to be anyone other than who she was. “I’m not going to rush you to the altar or anything crazy. I don’t even need you to decide right now.”

“But you need to not be blindsided.” Peggy’s heart felt like it was breaking. Because she had been the one to blindside him. To pull the rug out from under him again and again. She didn’t regret setting ground rules for starting over. She did regret failing to live up to her end.

“Yeah.” He loved her. But he couldn’t keep putting his own life on hold hoping she’d find time for him. “I should go.” Grant turned away, looking for his coat. Peggy could keep the shirt. He had others. “I’ve still got to unpack, and Angie will be up soon…”

Crossing the suddenly excruciating distance between them, Peggy wrapped her arms around his chest. Pressing herself into his broad back. Her face nestled between his shoulder blades. She had promised herself she’d do better when he got back, and here she was dropping the ball all over again. “Let’s go dancing.”

He turned in her arms. Cupping her cheek and tipping her face up towards him. Confusion and curiosity furrowing his brow.

Peggy reached up to hold his face in turn. “Tonight. We’ll get dinner, we’ll go dancing, I’ll teach you just like I promised. Then we can go back to your apartment. Spend the night together. And you can have me all day tomorrow. You can show me the pictures you took while you were away.”

“And after that?” Because that wasn’t enough. It would be good. God, it would be good in the moment. But in the end, it would leave them back in the same place they had been before he’d left. He’d still wake up Monday morning with no idea when he was going to see her again. Even last night had probably been a bad idea. He probably should have had this conversation in its entirety before putting his hands on her again. But he hadn’t been able to resist at least one last taste of her.

Peggy stroked his hair back from his forehead before letting her hands settle on his chest. “We’ll talk about how we are going to make time for each other. I’m going to have to travel a lot for work and I assume you will too after your photos shake the world.”

“Peggy...” Grant slid his hands down her arms to cup her elbows. He did want that. Wanted everything to work out. But he didn’t want to be put on the shelf again.

“I love you.” Peggy clung to him. She’d had grand plans of doing this elegantly. She probably should have at least attempted it last night. But he had been making such reasonable demands and she had thought that showing him would be a good enough start. “I love you so much. I have no idea what I’m doing. I know I’m going to make mistakes. But I also know I don’t want to do this without you. I got–I got a secretary– well, Angie, she’s still learning the secretary part, but I hired her to help me manage my time. And I know I still won’t manage it all the time. But I want to try. I want to do better.”

“Think we can figure it out, Pegs?” Grant wanted to. While he had been in Germany, he had almost felt like they could. Then he’d looked around her apartment this morning, spotted all the work she’d brought home with her. The signs of how little time she spent here. And his anxieties about finding a space in her life returned.

“Together we can,” Peggy promised. No more putting him off for ‘more important work.’ No more trusting that he’d just be there. No more carrying all the weight without any rest. They would share everything between them, and both their burdens would feel lighter.

Chapter 51: Peaceful Times

Half asleep on Grant’s couch, Peggy was as content as she had ever been. Her body deliciously sore from the activities of the night before. Grant sitting on the floor in front of the chesterfield, his half-disassembled camera spread out on the coffee table. He was methodically cleaning all the pieces while she dozed.

It was the second weekend in a row she had devoted to Grant, and she was so refreshed, she couldn’t even feel guilty about taking the time for herself. She was relaxed. Her mind was clear. Grant seemed equally at ease. She didn’t want to be at work. This felt like exactly where she should be, at least in this moment. Last night, they had gone dancing, come back to his apartment for a very late dinner of ham and egg butties, and fallen laughing into his bed. Breakfast had been toast with coffee for him, but he’d made tea for her.

It felt like she was a part of his life. Peggy stretched luxuriously. Like it was a shared thing. Their life. A wonder she could keep having if only she put in the effort. “I think I will take Sundays off from now on.”

“Oh yeah?” Grant glanced back over his shoulder at her. It was a bold, blanket statement, but in this moment, it didn’t feel overly optimistic. “What are you going to do with that much time?”

“This.” Peggy snuggled closer to the edge of the couch. Curling herself around him from behind.

“Watch me clean my camera?” Grant teased. It couldn’t be that interesting for her. He was only doing it at all because he’d thought she was mostly asleep, and it needed doing. Pay for the Germany story should be good, but he still needed to pick up some more pedestrian work if he didn’t want to dip into his savings. Especially if he and Herman were going to take another trip any time soon.

“Or shine your shoes,” Peggy teased right back. “Iron your shirts. Polish the silverware. Paint the kitchen cabinets.”

Grant chuckled and shook his head. He didn’t know what had gotten into her, but he liked this strange playful mood she was in.

Peggy kissed the back of his neck. He still thought she was joking. She wasn’t. “I want to do terribly boring things with you, Grant Carter.”

“Boring things?” Grant raised an eyebrow meaningfully. He’d thought she wanted to do fun things with him.

Peggy raked her nails up his arm. Yes, boring, mundane, domestic things. “I want to help file your taxes.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Grant gave in, dragging her off the couch and into his lap. Because he’d thought what she wanted was what they had spent most of Saturday night doing.

Peggy purred and rubbed against him. It wasn’t. But she did like the idea. Her morning dozing had left her revived and ready for more. Even if that wasn’t what she had been thinking of when she had started this particular conversation. “I want to be boring, and stable.”

“Asking me to marry you, doll?” Grant stroked his knuckles over her cheek. Domestic and stable sounded good. Especially when neither of their work lives were going to be anything like boring. At least he hoped his wouldn’t be. He had plans to keep it from becoming too mundane.

“Not yet.” Eventually, Peggy was sure. But there had been so much change and excitement in her life this year, and it didn’t look like her work would calm down anytime soon. When she did marry Grant, she wanted to be able to enjoy the experience. To be able to take time to enjoy their honeymoon, at least a week away from the office. “But I’d be willing to play house until then. Keep at least one day a week just for us. Make your tea and help you starch your collars.”

She reinforced the offer by arching up. Kissing his jaw and throat. Rubbing against him with more intent. Sliding her hands up the undershirt he was wearing so she could run her hands over his chest. The robe she had stolen from him falling open as she moved. When he turned his face down towards her, she immediately pressed her lips to his.

This was exactly what she wanted from the rest of her life. Her work during the day, and to come home to Grant. To spend weekends in his arms just like this. She wanted to be the one standing next to him when people congratulated him on how brilliant his photos were. She wanted him next to her when they questioned her authority. Most of all, she wanted the quiet moments with just the two of them. No outside pressures or anxieties. Just peace and love, and all the mundanity they had talked about having during the war.

“Condoms are in the bedroom,” Grant growled. Returning her kisses with equal enthusiasm.

Peggy managed to avoid letting go of him as she made her way to her feet. Drawing him with her towards the bedroom. Their journey delayed when Grant pressed her against the door frame and kissed her breathless. His wonderfully warm hands unknotting her robe and sliding around her waist. His body hard against hers.

He turned them as they reached the bed. Sweeping her off her feet even as he sat. Taking her in his lap, his hands sliding inside her robe. He brought his mouth back to hers. Picking up where they had left off on the couch, now within arm’s reach of protection.

Breathless, Peggy stopped. Sat back on his knees so she could see his face. Gently, she trailed a hand down his cheek. His beard prickly against her palm. “I love you.”

Grant slid his hand up her back to cradle the back of her neck. “I love you.”

*****

Breakfast on Monday was nowhere near as relaxing as Sunday’s had been. There had been no stolen kisses while she made a fry-up. No being wrapped inside Grant’s robe as she stirred her tea. Just hot toast and coffee and a deep goodbye kiss as she tried to leave for work. It had left her breathless and running for the train. And also glowing with love.

It was early days, but this new schedule seemed to be working for them. She set aside time for them, and Grant kept his days busy with work that interested him. She wasn’t staying over every night, just a couple of times during the week, and her weekends were his. They hadn’t gone dancing this week. Instead, they had cooked dinner together, spent their evening playing chess and talking about how the editors at the magazine were receiving the story he and Herman had submitted.

By lunch tomorrow, he should have an answer as to whether they would print it or not and how many of his photos they would use if they did. Peggy had vague ideas of making them dinner reservations to celebrate the publication. There was no doubt in her mind that the magazine would take it. She had seen the draft they had submitted. Herman was an excellent writer and Grant’s photos were stunning.

She turned over the idea as she made her way into her office just after eight. Later than usual, but she didn’t feel like she was running behind.

“You look chipper this morning,” Thompson said from the door to her office.

“Do I?” Peggy placed her bag neatly in the bottom drawer of her desk. “I had a relaxing weekend, I suppose.”

That was good. She had been so tense the first month after she got the position, it was nice to see her relaxing into the role. Even if she was getting comfortable enough that she was missing things. “Do you know what your new secretary left on my desk?”

“The report on the DC office?” Peggy guessed, collecting a memo proof from her desk. She needed to pass it off to the typing pool to be copied and distributed first thing.

“A report on the—” Thompson cut himself off, realizing that she’d said exactly what he was going to. "Yeah, how did you know?”

“I asked her to get it ready for you.” Peggy grabbed her notepad and pen as well. She liked to be able to jot things down on her morning walk around the office. “I want to move them up the list.” Significantly up the list. Ideally, she wanted to have their transition done by the end of May.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t missing things. “Did you see that their entire team of field agents either went to school or served with Masters’ son?”

“All of them?” A few Peggy would have expected, but for all of them felt like unbelievably naked nepotism. She knew Masters’ son had been their deputy chief until recently. He’d left rather quickly after she’d gained her position. Possibly because he knew of the plans for S.H.I.E.L.D. and refused to work for her. Possibly because his father’s replacement had asked him to be his chief aid.

“Every one.” There weren’t even any ‘old boys’ hanging around the department from before the ramp up for the war. The rest of the office seemed fine, or at least less like someone had been building a powerbase.

“I see.” Peggy had knee jerk opinions on what to do about that particular issue, but she was curious what Jack thought.

Jack tapped the report against his hand. From her tone they were on the same page. It was a problem. “I might take a long weekend. Take the train down to the Capitol. Let them know what they’re in for.”

“Warn them that I am a terrible harridan, and they should save themselves before they are forced to work for me?” Peggy took off her coat and folded it over her arm. That sounded like what the people who didn’t think she could do the job would say. She’d be hurt, if she hadn’t spent the morning being adored by someone whose opinion meant worlds more than theirs ever could.

“Think it’s for the best if they find jobs that aren’t doomed when you inevitably crack and this whole thing goes to shit.” Jack winked to make it clear that wasn’t what he actually thought was going to happen. And it wouldn’t. As long as Peggy had a strong core team to help her recognize her vision. He wanted to be on that team. More importantly, he didn’t want to be the one to bring in people who would drag her down. “Too late for me, but they still have a chance to do something with their lives.”

“Well, Thompson, if you feel that strongly about it.” Peggy felt the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. Better than her plan even.

“I also want to talk to their secretarial pool. I know we’re looking pretty full, but I think I see some talent there.” And not just typing talent. Based on what he could see in Angie’s report, he might just want a couple of them for field agents. Peggy had proved that a woman could get in places a man would never be able to and he wanted to take advantage of that.

“You know I trust you with hiring decisions.” Peggy broke away from him, headed for the labs. Based on the sounds she was hearing, Samberly and Frost were going at it again.

*****

Peggy sat back in her chair. Today had been… productive. Her inbox wasn’t quite empty, but it was significantly better than it had been when she had arrived. Barely six and she was already thinking about wrapping up for the day. Maybe taking some reports home with her to read through, but the strenuous work was done for the day.

“Ready to head home?” Angie asked, already wearing her coat as she stood in the door to Peggy’s office.

“Yes, I think I am.” Not even six and Peggy didn’t feel bad about calling an end to her day. She could trust the people she had hired to manage the tasks she had assigned them. Peggy could go home, have dinner, relax, read the remaining reports she had to get through in the comfort of her housecoat and couch.

“Actually coming home? Or you going to ditch me for the pretty boy?” Angie teased. Not loud enough for the few men still in the bullpen to hear.

“Actually coming home,” Peggy laughed, linking her arm through Angie’s. If nothing else, Grant had plans tonight. Another meeting with Herman to discuss their next project. She couldn’t wait to hear all about it, but tonight she was headed to her own apartment. And very much looking forward to curling up with a nice cup of tea and softer lighting to read by.

*****

Angie linked her arm through Peggy’s as they made their way down the street enjoying the warming if blustery spring weather. “Did I ever thank you for getting me this job?”

Peggy smiled. She had. The first time she’d gotten a paycheque more than twice the size of what she’d made at the restaurant. And still not nearly what she was worth. “Did I ever thank you for taking it?”

Angie squeezed her arm and Peggy squeezed back. Their lives had both gotten better since Peggy had brought her onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. team. Angie had a stable income and was actively encouraged to speak her mind, not just to Peggy, but to any of her male coworkers who stepped out of line. Peggy had someone who wasn’t afraid to tell her off for trying to micromanage her staff or shoo her out of the office before she worked until midnight for no reason other than wanting to check everyone’s work.

A thoughtful look creased Angie’s brow. “Think Whitney will introduce me to her industry friends?”

“I know I’ll be devastated when they steal you.” On a personal level. On a professional level… There was an operational symmetry to it. Angie would need some training in counterintelligence and covert operations. But having a mole inside Frost’s circle could be very valuable, especially if she started to slip back into bad habits. She seemed happy with her new life in New York, doing science by day and acting in the theatre at night. But she was a good enough actress to leave Peggy with doubts about her authenticity.

“You won’t mind if I take time off for a show,” Angie teased with the entirety of the mischievous spark that had endeared her to Peggy from the start on full display.

“You have me there.” Peggy would never begrudge her friend success. Even less so if it meant more eyes on Frost.

“I don’t want to quit though,” Angie said thoughtfully. “My dad’s too happy that I have a ‘real’ job now. Apparently now all I need is a man to take care of me.”

“Should we keep Thompson in trim by having him pose as your fiancé?” Peggy teased. He’d hate it, be nothing but horribly awkward and stilted if they made him do it. It would be hilarious, but also cruel. She didn’t want to get the poor boy’s hopes up.

Angie jostled Peggy playfully. Grinning at just the image of it. “He is actually kinda nice when he pulls that stick out of his ass.”

“He’s coming around,” Peggy admitted without a trace of resentment. He hadn’t liked being Chief when it came down to it. The tedium of the mundane paperwork had bored him to the point that he’d lost the verve for the rest of the work. He was much better as the head of the field agent division. They needed to sit down and have another conversation about effective interrogation techniques at some point, but otherwise…

For that matter, he might not be the best candidate to lead interrogations at this point. It took a delicate touch and a knack for deception. He’d gotten worlds better since she’d proven her techniques worked, but he still cut an imposing figure. “Angie, how would you feel about taking on some more responsibilities? I just thought of something you’d be brilliant at.”

*****

Monty liked working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and Peggy. She was intelligent, and treated them as intelligent in turn. They had just the right balance of direction and freedom. He felt more productive now than he had since the war.

He didn’t like the distance it put between him and Jack though. It was almost worse than the war. It had been months since they were both in London. He had tried a few times, but every time he booked a ticket, Jack was sent off on some training mission or other. Both of them miserable in their limited contact and continued distance. It was draining, loving someone a world away.

It did make for a heady reunion. Dragged through the door of their apartment and pressed back against the wood. Jack laughing as he dragged his shirt over his head. Tumbling into bed in a tangle of limbs.

There were questions and conversations they needed to have, and Monty had decided they could all wait until after.

After their love was spent and they were both laying panting in the bed they didn’t share nearly as often as they should.

“Are you going to tell me how you know Barnes’ wife now?” Monty asked, staring at the ceiling.

‘Wife.’ It still sounded odd. At first, Jack had assumed they were something less official. Together, obviously, but in a practical and temporary way. Then Barnes had mentioned that they were married and she hadn’t contradicted him. “I’m still surprised Barnes settled down. I rather pictured him as the ‘sowing his wild oats forever’ sort.”

Monty was surprised too. Especially since it seemed like he had moved on completely from the Captain despite having pined for him for years. But they seemed happy together. He was evidently devoted and she was demonstrative in turn.

“They do make for a handsome couple. She complements him.” None of the people, men or women, that Barnes had went with during the war had matched his energy.

“And you know her,” Monty added accusatorially. The first time he had seen her, she had implied as much. Told him she was helping him for love of their mutual friends. Plural. Bucky and Cap. And Jack.

‘Knew’ was a little strong. Jack was familiar with the category more than the woman herself. “She’s a Fox.”

“Attractive enough, but I didn’t think she was your type,” Monty shot back. He got enough mystery at work, he didn’t need it coming from Jack.

“No,” Jack laughed. Rolling onto his stomach to kiss Monty’s chest. She very much wasn’t his type. Monty was his type. Lean and handsome, with a wit like a blade. “She’s a member of the Fox clan. A descendant of the Lady of the Lake. They call her Grandmother. They’re reclusive. Especially the older ones with the white hair.”

Monty stroked his love’s own hair. Waiting for further explanation.

“I’ve only met them a few times.” Four to be exact. And never during the war. He had been surprised when she’d shown up out of the blue with a directive. Especially such an esoteric one. Usually when the Lady wanted something it was simple and straight forward. Slay a dragon. Defend a tear in the fabric of the universe. The Sword sometimes gave smaller tasks. Protect civilians, fend off the sorts of things that emerged from sacred pools that weren’t being utilized. It had been thrilled with the war. With the scope it offered him. But Excalibur liked direct action. It didn’t fully understand the intricacies of human interactions.

The Fox most definitely did. She walked him step by step through everything he needed to do to get the file she wanted on Carter. The sort of operation that would take MI5 a month to organize and it took her less than two days. At least from what he had seen. “I’m glad she’s on our side. The way she reads people. It’s uncanny. Like she can look into your soul with those eyes.”

Monty had felt that too. The first time he had met her, alone in the chaos of that hallway, surrounded by unconscious bodies, he wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t been partly responsible for it. When she’d smirked and tucked a vial of something incredibly dangerous into his pocket. Treated the substance that had struck fear into Peggy’s heart and threatened to destroy the world like it was nothing at all. “So, Jim is right? She’s the devil?”

“I wouldn’t say devil.” There had been something about her that wasn’t anything like evil. She hadn’t even tried to flirt with him. Just explained what she needed him to do. And when she had left, she had tossed a comment back over her shoulder. Don’t worry, I’ll keep Monty safe. Like she had seen him. The real him. And not cared.

“And what would you say?” Because Monty trusted Morita’s opinion. Especially when it came to Eastern mythology. It wasn’t an area Monty had studied, whereas he had grown up with it.

Now that was a good question. She might not be evil. But she was uncanny. “They call themselves Fox Demons.”

Monty raised his eyebrows. That was a synonym in his mind. “How does the blasted sword feel about her?”

“It doesn’t like her,” Jack chuckled. It so rarely grumbled about things. But it had grumbled about what she had asked him to do.

That made Monty start. The only other times the sword had reported anything like a negative opinion on anyone, they had been distinctly bad news.

“Because she doesn’t have to listen to it,” Jack assured him. She wasn’t the devil. He wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley without knowing she was on his side. But she wasn’t evil. “The damn thing gets touchy about not being the final arbitrator.”

“To be fair, I can’t fault its judgment most of the time,” Monty sighed. It was hard to be truly irritated at it when it was so unwaveringly right about things. Which didn’t reassure him. “It thinks she’s wrong?”

“It thinks she is too easy on people. That she should skip the theatrics and just kill them rather than faff about with politics.”

“Well, maybe she does have a point.” There was something to be said for not murdering everyone who made a morally questionable decision, which was what Excalibur seemed to want Jack to do most of the time, and gave him headaches when he didn’t.

Monty sighed and shifted his head to Jack’s shoulder. There were answers at least. And Jack was willing to share them with him. They always promised each other that there were no secrets between them. An ideal that didn’t always work out, given their chosen careers. The same forces that kept them apart also meant they couldn’t tell each other as much as might have liked.

For example, Monty had absolutely no idea how Jack was mixed up with the strange sentient ooze that made people dematerialize. “The Zero Matter?”

“Aether,” Jack corrected. One of his primary duties as chosen champion was to guard the Aether and its prison. He needed to check on it soon. “It is like your Tesseract. Only a different flavor, if you will.”

“So, you have no idea either.” Monty rolled so his face was nestled more securely against Jack’s neck. It was as reassuring as it was concerning. At the very least, it wasn’t a pressing concern.

“You know how these things are, pet.” Jack stroked Monty’s hair soothingly. “There is magic older than the hills and all we can do is stop it from burning us. I can tell you it isn’t a threat at the moment though. The Fox took care of that.”

He did know how it was. The sword. The portals. The mysterious directives from powers greater than themselves. “I hate this part of your life.”

“Your life too, love,” Jack said, not trying to hide the amusement that crept into his voice. “Or were you confused as to what Carter is trying to accomplish?”

He wasn’t confused. He hadn’t missed Dugan hinting at more international work now that most of the SSR had been absorbed either. “Maybe we should retire. Move to the lake district and be terribly boring. We could open a hotel.”

“Not really an option for me, I’m afraid,” Jack said softly, nodding towards the long sword currently resting on the mantle. Checking in on the Aether and its recently reinforced prison aside, he was sure he’d be getting a new ‘quest’ at some point or another.

“No,” Monty sighed, looking at the sword himself. He knew it was an obligation, not a choice. It would just be nice to not have to worry about forces beyond their understanding for a while. “And I’d hate the quiet.”

Chapter 52: Hard Choices

Peggy had managed to take weekends at home while finalizing the takeover of Boston and DC. Houston was harder. It was too far away to travel back and forth for a single night in her own bed—in Grant’s bed really. She had hoped she’d be able to get everything done in a week, but the section chief apparently had other ideas. He was less than happy with her annexation and seemed determined to make her life as difficult as possible in retaliation. Which meant spreading out the meetings with all the local vendors and contacts she really did need to be familiar with over a full two weeks.

She and Grant had promised each other that they would still have their dinners. Grant had plans to travel down himself on Friday and stay ‘til late on Monday, but it had still been agony to leave his bed this morning. The ghost of his lips still painted the back of her neck.

More than agony, given that they couldn’t stay together when he did make his way to Houston. He’d promised to take her dancing, and she had vague ideas of a picnic on the Sunday, but it would be separate hotels and separate beds all weekend. The tyranny of propriety keeping them from anything like privacy.

She tried not to glower as she found a place on the platform of Grand Central. It was a long train ride from here to Houston. No need to put off the train staff this early in her travel day. Even if she would greatly prefer to be back in Grant’s apartment, listening enraptured as he explained the adjustments he had made to his developing solution. Or even in her own office, dealing with all the paperwork she was sure was accumulating in her inbox so that she could spend her evening listening to that same delightfully enthusiastic explanation from Grant.

“Can I carry your bag?” a deep voice asked from just behind her left ear.

“Gran-” Peggy spun around, heart growing light as she set eyes on the man occupying her thoughts. She had left him only a few hours ago, and here he was. But… no. The hair was slightly off, his eyes more shadowed, and she had never seen that shirt before. “Steve?” Peggy was surprised. He was far and away the most reclusive of the slightly odd trio. Understandable given his doppelganger was currently trying to establish himself and the last thing any of them wanted to do was complicate the matter.

Not that he particularly stood out on the platform. He was handsomely anonymous in a camel-coloured overcoat and grey trilby, a neat leather briefcase held at his side. Peggy smiled and resisted the urge to straighten his slightly crooked tie. Just one of a hundred men traveling for work or pleasure. “What are you doing here?”

Steve reached down and took her suitcase. “Thought you could use a travel buddy.”

Peggy laughed and set her hand in the crook of his arm. Maybe she could.

They had a first-class compartment on the train. A cozy little space away from the rest of the passengers. Peggy had intended to use the privacy to go over plans for Houston. She suspected that her new companion meant things were going to be more interesting than that.

“Why are you actually here?” Peggy teased, nudging her shoe lightly against his.

Steve leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He wished the first story had been true. That this was just an indulgence, the same way Bucky and Ayame going dancing was an indulgence. That he and Peggy were just going to play chess and chat about how things were going. But it was work. Painful, heartbreaking work. “Government is about to do something that will piss you off and I wanted to prep you for it.”

Peggy pursed her lips. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. At least she wasn’t surprised that the government was being difficult. Steve taking a special interest in it was more interesting. After all, it wasn’t exactly special. “They do that rather a lot.”

Yeah, Steve knew they did. He was on the edge of staging a revolution more days than he wasn’t, and he knew Pegs was the same way. “This one felt like an in-person conversation.”

“Oh?” Peggy was less than comforted. Significantly less than comforted if Steve thought it was an in-person conversation he needed to have in particular.

“They’re going to repatriate Ivchenko* and lend Zola to the Russians. Officially, they’re trading Ivchenko for Durchdenwald and Zola has agreed to help them untangle a mess of old Hydra tech.” The treaties the sides had signed at the end of the war had provisions for dealing with the fallout from Schmidt’s experiments. The unstable maniac had booby-trapped basically everything he hadn’t destroyed and even when he hadn’t, anything powered by the Tesseract was unstable without maintenance. No one wanted a weapons charging station overloading and melting down. Not when it could level more than a city block all on its own.

It gave people with less savoury interests cover to offer ‘help.’ Or to try and manipulate Zola into becoming their lapdog. Use him to try and revive the experiments that should have died with Doctor Erskine and Steve. And Zola would go along with them. If only because they would give him all the resources he could ask for in pursuit of their goals, and he’d use their greed to manipulate them into thinking his goals were their goals. They didn’t care about ‘sides,’ just about power. And they’d use Steve’s husband to get that power. Bucky. His Bucky. Ayame’s Bucky. Sayuri’s dada. And all they saw was the weapon.

“And unofficially?” Peggy prompted. Because he wouldn’t be here if it were just the official. And he certainly wouldn’t have that lost look in his eyes.

“They figured out that Buck got the serum and he’s not going to go quietly.” Years in captivity, and they hadn’t managed to break his guy. Even with the new drugs they were testing on him, he hadn’t come close to breaking. He wasn’t healing either. Zola’s first pass at the serum wasn’t as good as what Steve had got. It had kept Bucky alive after his fall, but the arm they had field amputated at the elbow had never healed right.

Peggy reached across the compartment to set her hand on Steve’s knee. Of course. Ayame hed mentioned something about that absolute ages ago. Back when they had been recruiting Frost. Peggy hadn’t thought much of it since she hadn’t heard anything about his being moved in the intervening months. But if it was happening now, she would obviously move it to the top of her priority list. “I’ll find a way to stop them.”

“No.” Steve closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. He’d thought he’d prepared himself for this. The reality hurt so much worse. But the pain was worth it. He could bear it for what came after. He could take the pain to spare Amy and Bucky from it. God, he wished he could take all of it from them. “That’s the thing. I need you to let it happen.”

*****

Peggy was still stunned when they got off the train. Steve had explained it all to her. Not just what he was asking her to do, but why. Some of the details were implied. But it was all there if you looked for it.

It was Bucky’s daughter, Natasha. She was sure Steve and Amy were concerned about how to maintain the consequences of all the things the Winter Soldier had done. And there was no doubt it was a concern, but Peggy was equally sure they could have found solutions to each individual problem as it arose. Ayame at least had made it clear she didn’t have a problem with justified murder, however cold the blood. But looking after his adopted daughter. Ensuring that she was protected and raised with the morals and determination Barnes had held onto through everything... That was something it would be hard to do piecemeal. Peggy could remember the way Bucky had lit up the few times his eldest daughter had come up during their original explanation of what was going on. He loved her. Loved her enough to survive any pain from the looks of it.

If he loved her enough to suffer that much, and the people who loved him loved him enough to let him make the decision, who was Peggy to stand in the way?

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” She wouldn’t stop them. Not yet. But she would make sure she knew their plans. Keep a close enough watch that they knew they couldn’t get anything past her. Let them do this one terrible thing to stop them doing a hundred other terrible things.

“I know you will.” Steve hugged her. Not the way he would have a decade ago. But the way he would have just before she passed. Like she was precious but not his world. She was someone else’s world now. And Steve knew Grant would look after her with every fibre of his heart, the same way he himself would have. “Be careful, Pegs. And don’t let them catch you on the back foot.”

*****

The train back to New York was long. The subway from Grand Central to the Village felt even longer. It felt like a week, not a day. He dragged himself up the steps of the Sanctum with heavy feet. The briefcase he was carrying to keep up appearances felt like lead in his hand. When he finally made it back to their rooms, it was with a mixture of relief and trepidation. And exhaustion. He was just so tired.

Inside, Bucky was sitting on the couch. Calm, collected, and by all accounts relaxed. His arm spread along the back as if he were waiting for someone to take that place. What should be Ayame’s place.

Instead, she was standing behind Bucky. Eyes sharp and intent. Fixed on Steve in the doorway. She had obviously been pacing. Now frozen in place as she searched him for signs of how it had gone.

Steve opened his arms. And Ayame fell into them. Pressing herself to his heart. It had gone to plan. And why wouldn’t it? He hadn’t even done anything really. Just kept Peggy abreast of how things around her were progressing.

God, he was tired though. Exhausted mentally if not physically. He dropped his head to Amy’s shoulder. Chasing the security of her perfume. The feel of her pulse reassuring him that she was safe and alive. He wrapped his arms around her. Holding her as tightly as she was holding him.

“Hey now.” Bucky eased himself gently off the couch. They had talked about it. Gone around in circles until they all agreed it was the best plan. He knew neither of them liked it. But what was the other option? Aims was on strict orders and it wasn’t like they could keep things on track without him being where he was. The Winter Soldier was at too many important events.

Bucky cupped Steve’s face between his hands. Tipping it up so their eyes met. “I’m fine, baby. I’m right here. And I’m fine.”

Steve felt Ayame shiver against his chest. Knowing and not believing. He knew and didn’t believe it himself. Bucky had been the one to say it. Seventy years was too long to be alone.

Steve trusted Bucky to know himself. He did. He still hated the idea that somewhere in the world, his guy was suffering. “Buck…”

Bucky did the only thing he could think of that could possibly get his guy out of his head. He kissed him. Pouring all the love and passion that had sustained him for so many years back into his husband.

Amy whimpered. The tiniest noise that Bucky felt more than heard. His sweet, scared little Fox. Crushed between them. He dipped his head and pressed a reassuring kiss to her cheek. She shuddered, pressing even deeper into Steve’s hold. Nowhere near as fierce as she usually was. But then Steve wasn’t as bold as he usually was either. He nosed her jaw until she looked up at him properly, and poured the same love he had shown Steve into her.

Once he felt her untense just a little, Bucky nudged Steve. Nodding for him to take his turn kissing their girl. Which relaxed Steve enough that Bucky thought he might actually be breathing again.

Bucky held them both close. Doing his best to protect them from everything happening in their hearts. “It’s going to be alright. I’m safe. Everything is going to be alright.”

*****

For the most part, Peggy managed to put thoughts of Zola and Ivchenko from her mind for the week. Focusing on the handover and on shutting down the section chief when he tried to do things the ‘right’ way.

It was harder with Grant sitting across the restaurant table from her. She wanted to be bright and happy with him here. She was happy he was here. She hated being away from him, and she wanted to hear all about his and Herman’s plans for their trip to Asia. She just… she couldn’t seem to concentrate on his words. Every time she looked at him all she could see was his fear when he had learned Bucky was missing. The devastation of the day he had fallen.

Someone would have to tell him. And his shining smile would disappear again.

“Pegs? You alright?” Grant hated to say it, but she had been distracted since he’d arrived in the city.

“Yes. Of co—” Peggy started. Cutting herself off halfway through the statement. This was Grant. Why was she lying to Grant? “No. Not really.”

Grant covered her hand with his. Squeezing lightly. “What’s wrong?”

Peggy licked her lips, unsure where to even start. “Have… Have you talked with the Winters lately?”

“No. Does Amy have something on the boil?” Grant was retired. But he could help out if Steve and his spouses needed a hand. It could be fun. It had been months since he’d caught up with Bucky. He could get a second opinion on the best way to make contact in Hanoi and he was betting there were baby pictures he hadn’t seen yet.

“Not exactly.” Peggy dabbed her lips carefully on her napkin, not sure where to start. “Steven and I were on the same train as far as Atlanta.”

“Steve?” Grant was surprised. Ayame was supposed to be their main contact, since she was the one they could guarantee wouldn’t be recognised.

Peggy hesitated. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t have a problem telling Grant. Of course, if it were anyone else, he’d have a careful, well-reasoned but still empathetic reaction. With Barnes… He wasn’t always rational when it came to Barnes. “Zola and Ivchenko are being seconded to a different organization. Zola will only be temporary, but I suspect that Ivchenko will turn into something more permanent.”

Grant took a sip of his water to cover any shock. He didn’t know much about Ivchenko, but he didn’t like Zola running around without supervision. “Any idea why?”

“I believe they will be working with Ayame’s husband. His…” Peggy swallowed. He had spent nearly three years in captivity without breaking. And without dying. Which was why certain personages wanted to see what they could do with another three years. “His new project isn’t going the way the people running it would like.”

Grant squeezed his fork. The pulse in his ears getting louder. “They asked you not to stop it.”

“Yes.” Peggy blinked in surprise. It had shocked her. She had expected it to take him just as long to come to terms. “How did you…”

Because he knew her. And he knew them. And because they’d talked to her alone and first. Eased her into the idea so she could ease him in. If it had been the other way around, if they were going to do something about it, they would have talked to him first. He might not be superhuman anymore, but he’d still go to the mat for Bucky. And the five of them… they could break in and out of anywhere they set their minds to.

But they weren’t planning anything. They were leaving Bucky where he was. “You’re wearing your resigned face, not your problem solving one.”

Peggy’s heart broke at the flatness of his voice. Of course. He knew how she thought, and he knew even better how Steve thought. “Darling…”

“Fuck.” They were going to torture Bucky. They were torturing Bucky. And he was supposed to just sit here and let it happen. He knew they ‘couldn’t change anything.’ They’d told him. Walked him through everything when they were trying to get him on board. And he’d heard them. He’d understood what they were saying. But that had been hypothetical. A problem half a century removed. This was real. Happening today. Bucky was sitting in a Russian cell — cold, alone, and hopeless — and all he could do was sit here. Eating a nice meal while his best friend starved. Grant slammed his hand on the table, rattling plates and glasses. “Fuck.”

A wide-eyed and flustered looking waiter hurried across the restaurant. “Sir—”

They were going to have to ask him to leave. He got that. He wouldn’t want him fucking up their atmosphere either. “We’ll take the check.”

The waiter seemed placated by that. At least he scuttled back across the restaurant to fetch the bill. And possibly his manager.

Grant slumped forward, his head landing on the tablecloth. Seventy years. Seventy fucking years.

“Love...” Peggy stroked the hair on the back of his head. She shouldn’t have told him here. It was awkward with no place for them to be properly alone, but she could have found somewhere better at least. She had known it would shake him. She should have prepared.

“It’s my fault.” Bucky wouldn’t even have been on the train if not for him. He should have been sent home after everything that happened in Austria. Medical-ed out and back working for his pops. He would have gone too, if anyone else had asked him to stay. But it had been him. And Bucky had…

“Come on, darling.” Peggy stood. Collecting her handbag and shawl from the back of her chair. The waiter still wasn’t back with their cheque, but Peggy was reasonably good at mental addition. She set enough bills on the table to cover their meal as well as a generous enough tip to make up for the scene before she reached for Grant’s hand. “We’ll go for a walk.”

*****

Peggy wished she could take him back to her hotel room. Soothe this hurt the way she should have soothed so many from the past. Unfortunately, she was staying in a respectable women’s hotel. No men allowed. And he didn’t have his wits about him enough to walk down the sidewalk without her to keep him from wandering into traffic. He was in a plain railway hotel near the station, but one with a retired school master as proprietor who was as likely to call the police on them for fornication as to simply throw Grant into the street. A ridiculous thing to be illegal, but then the pearl-clutching contingent never asked for her opinion.

The park a few blocks from the restaurant would have been quite lovely for an evening constitutional before he dropped her back at her hotel. There was a fountain with lightly playing water, trees Peggy suspected had been planted before the state had joined the Union, and lovely brick-paved paths. Peggy would have quite enjoyed wandering aimlessly through the green space listening to Grant plot out what areas would photograph the best. It was less ideal as a place to have a breakdown because one’s best friend was undergoing illegal genetic experimentation and there was nothing one could do about it.

There was a bench though. Somewhere Grant could sit for a moment.

More collapse than sit really. He slumped onto the wood of the bench. Too drained to hold himself up properly.

Peggy could more than understand why he was upset. She was upset and she and Bucky were only friends. She hadn’t grown up with him. Hadn’t lived with him for years. Hadn’t called him her best friend and insisted he be her right hand through everything. Hadn’t had… more complicated feelings that she was still sorting out.

She had thought their children would grow up together. But only in a distant, inevitable sort of way. And only because of how close he and Bucky were.

She wondered now, how different that life would have been from the one they had all ended up with. Would she have made the same bargain Ayame had made in the end? Or would the boys simply have muddled along in whatever strange limbo they had been in during the war? Would Barnes have found someone else to share his life with? Would they have had the children she didn’t want because it was what was expected of them? Would they have been happy? Or just… less sad than they were without each other…

Grant leaned back on the bench. His head falling back as he gazed at the darkening sky. He just… “I should have seen it. I should have sent him home. I shouldn’t have—”

“I’ll tell you now what I told you then.” Peggy cupped his cheeks, turning his face back so he could see her eyes. “Barnes made his choice. And given what we know now, I don’t think he’d make a different one if you asked again.”

Grant dropped his eyes, and his head. Pressing his forehead into the soft fabric covering Peggy’s stomach. Trying and failing to convince himself that the cold lump in his gut wasn’t real. Peggy was safe. Bucky was safe. He’d survived and gone on to find himself a happy family.

Peggy did have one idea. Something that might help, if not pull him fully out of this black mood. “Why don’t we call? Get it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Smuggling him into the office might be a slight abuse of her power. But the night agent was a good chap. She was sure he wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t like they were going to do anything improper. Just place a trunk call to a contact.

*****

Bucky was the only one in a state to answer the ringing phone, so he hoped it wasn’t a major crisis. It shouldn’t be. Stevie had left Peggy at the train station less than a week ago their time. A couple of hours by the Sanctum clock. Just long enough for him to get Steve and Amy calm enough to fall into an exhausted sleep.

Extracting himself from his position in bed to answer the phone hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed it without waking either of them. Which wouldn’t last if he let it ring again. Neither of them slept for shit. Neither did he. But that wasn’t the point.

“What’s up?” There were only a handful of people who had this number. All of them friends who wouldn’t call without reason.

“I’m dealing with something rather similar to what I suspect you’re dealing with,” Peggy answered with a soft indulgence that Bucky understood.

Bucky glanced back towards the bedroom where Steve and Amy were sleeping off their emotions. Both of them frowning and clinging to each other. “It’s a rough one.”

“Can you talk to him?” Peggy asked, with all the worry Bucky had for his own people colouring her voice.

“Yeah. Put him on.” It was weird. He was the same friend Bucky had known all his life, but he knew about Bucky’s feelings for him. He understood. But he was still just… his friend. They hadn’t turned a corner the way he and Stevie had. Things between them hadn’t changed, in a good way.

“Buck?” Grant sounded shattered. The same way Stevie had when he’d first gotten home.

“Hey, punk.” Bucky leaned forward, phone tucked against his ear, elbow on his knee. “You staying out of trouble?”

“You’re—” Grant’s voice broke.

“Yeah. I know.” Bucky wished Grant and Peggy were closer. Doing this now had been important. Peggy needed to know before she got back and got more official word. But it would have been good to be able to look Grant in the eye. Squeeze his shoulder and reassure him he really was alright.

Bucky talked him through it. Slow and calm. Because he was calm, even if no one else was. Well, Peggy was. But she was probably the only other person taking this at least mostly dispassionately. Paying attention to the practical parts of their plan and not just the emotional. It was a good plan.

The line wasn’t good enough for Bucky to hear it, but he was sure Peggy was standing next to Grant. Rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders. She was always good about that sort of thing. Reassuring her guy when his confidence was off. A little stiff in public. Very English. But Bucky’s guy seemed to like that. Just look at Aims. She was so prim and proper in public. It looked an awful lot like a type from where Bucky was sitting.

Not that now was the time to tease Grant or Stevie about it. Once they were over the shock, then he could. For now, it was more important to get them both back to level.

Grant seemed to be getting there. His responses calmer, less stressed.

“Have Pegs take you back to your hotel,” Bucky soothed. All he needed to do was sleep on it. “It’ll all seem more reasonable in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Grant sighed, exhausted. “We’ll talk soon.”

And they would. Bucky would send him a letter asking him to come over for coffee once he was back in the city. The four of them could chat some more. Help him feel better about the idea.

There was a shuffling on the other end of the line as Grant handed the receiver back to Peggy.

“Thank you.” Bucky understood the relief in her voice. He felt the same way when it came to his people backing away from the edge.

“What I’m here for.” Bucky was always there for his friends. And his people. They’d wake up soon. He really should be there when he did.

“Barnes?” Peggy said softly just before he could hang up.

Bucky set the receiver back to his ear. “Yeah?”

“How are you doing with it all?” she asked with deep sincerity.

That was a good question. One Amy had implied before Bucky had gotten her to sleep and he had avoided answering for her, but he could for Peggy. “Easier for me. I know I can survive it. I already did.”

“And it’s worth it,” Peggy said. Not a question. A statement. One made soft by understanding.

Bucky looked at his people again. For them? For his little girls? “Yeah. It was.”

*****

Peggy wasn’t surprised to find all the Howling Commandos crammed into her office. It wasn’t all that unusual. Unlike most of the field agents, Peggy’s team didn’t answer to Thompson. They answered directly to Peggy. And to great success thus far. She gave them free rein and they brought her success after success.

Although the faces watching her as she hung her coat and put away her purse didn’t feel particularly successful. It felt like they had found out about the secret she had been sitting on for the better part of a week.

“Did you read this memo?” Dum Dum asked, brandishing a pink sheet of paper with classified stamped across it in bold red letters. Confirming Peggy’s suspicions as to why they were here.

“Yes. They sent me an advanced copy of the proposition.” And she’d had a long chat with Steve to prepare her even before that. It would have been a terrible shock without that warning. Enough that she wouldn’t have been able to process the idea. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to come up with an argument for or against if she had been blindsided by it. If the people sending him had their way, Zola probably would have been out of the country before she could respond to even their advanced copy, let alone the official memo that had the team up in arms.

“How are we going to stop it?” Dugan said when Peggy didn’t elaborate right away. He was used to her or Cap having a plan for this sort of thing. The team could probably come up with one, but it would take a week or two they didn’t really have.

“Why would I want to stop it?” Why wouldn’t she want to stop it really was a better question. Peggy had spent quite a bit of mental energy coming up with reasons she could justify. Steve had helped her, and it was the safest option for the universe. It still stung, and she knew she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “I certainly don’t want the Soviets figuring out how to recreate the weapons Hydra used during the war. Or getting ideas about stealing back the Tesseract to continue where Schmidt left off.”

Peggy dropped her eyes to her phone. She should call Grant. Or better, go over there tonight. Let him know they had official dates. Hold him properly this time. They could call Bucky again if he needed them too. At the very least, she could cuddle him. Hold and be held the way she couldn’t when she originally told him.

“You’re just going to let the Russians have him?” Pinky frowned. The Soviets might not be Hydra, but they weren’t far off. Zola could do some serious damage. As much if not more than he had with the Red Skull. The only thing he could say for Schmidt was his single-mindedness meant Zola couldn’t explore too many options. Give him free rein and… Pinky didn’t even want to think about the possibilities.

Peggy squared her shoulders. No. Absolutely not. This was a temporary situation. “He’ll be back. We have the Tesseract.”

And Peggy was keeping that on a very short leash. Not only was it her best leverage — which was what she would be telling anyone who questioned her possessiveness — Grant, Steve, Bucky, and Amy had bent the laws of time and space to protect it. Peggy wouldn’t be the one to let the side down.

“What does Grant think?” Gabe asked, watching Peggy intently.

Peggy’s spine stiffened, her hackles rising. Memories of her love sobbing on her shoulder making her defensive. The team might not know everything, but they should know that it was a sensitive topic. “Grant is a civilian and doesn’t have clearance to have an opinion.”

The men in the room stared at her. Waiting silently for Peggy to explain. None of them believed she hadn’t told him. They trusted her judgment, but he had been their captain through the worst of it. He had been the one to come for them when they had thought Zola would do to them all, what he had tried to do to Bucky. If he had thoughts, they wanted to hear it.

Peggy sighed. She wouldn’t have accepted that as an answer in their shoes either. “He doesn’t like it. But it is the fastest way to clean up the remnants of Hydra.”

The team shifted. None of them could disagree. But none of them liked it either.

“So, what’s the plan?” Happy crossed his arms over his chest anxiously. Barnes may have gotten the worst of it, but Zola had done a lot of damage to everyone who’d been captured.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Peggy closed her eyes. Centred herself. Steve had assured her that this would all work out. And if there were any hiccups, Ayame could be relied on to do what needed to be done. For now… “We do nothing. When he comes back, we get custody so we can keep an eye on him.”

Notes:

*Doctor Ivchenko is the Russian hypnotist from Agent Carter season one episode five. I mentioned him being involved in the Winter Soldier project back in “Winter’s Child”, but I don’t know if I ever explained who he was.

Chapter 53: Prodigal Son

The sound of chaos in the bullpen would have worried Peggy. Except it was a very familiar chaos. One she had been expecting for weeks. Welcome, excitement, and the vivacious exuberance of a true extrovert. All moving inexorably towards her office door.

Peggy set aside her paperwork. It could wait until after she had her own welcome.

Angie didn’t get to the door first the way she usually did. But then Peggy wouldn’t have expected her to. Not in the face of one of her favourite forces of nature.

“Howard.” Peggy beamed as she stood from her desk. He’d let her know he would be back at some point this month, but not exactly when.

“I know. I know.” He closed the door behind himself with enthusiasm. His suit and tie crisp and moustache freshly waxed. “You’ve been waiting for me with bated breath.”

“I set up a lab for you already, if that’s what you mean.” Peggy didn’t quite laugh. But she was close. “How have you been?”

“Good! Good.” Howard grinned with all the enthusiasm he was known for. “I finished my brilliant movie. Should be in theatres in a few months. I relaxed. Took in the beauty of the mountains. I learned to play gin — the game, not the drink. I’ve been good.”

“You’ve been bored,” Peggy summarized succinctly. She knew him. There was no way that gin had kept him occupied for more than a day or two.

“So ridiculously bored,” Howard admitted, slumping in his chair.

Peggy pulled a thick file out of her desk drawer. All the research she had set aside with an eye to it intriguing him. “Let’s see if we can solve that, shall we?”

“I’m excited for this, Peggy.” Howard rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. Eyes shining at the sight of the thick file. “I’m very excited.”

Peggy was too. She had missed him, and she knew the rest of the team had too. “I’ll let Samberly show you around the office.”

Doctor Samberly was waiting when she opened the office door. No doubt summoned by Angie in anticipation of Peggy’s next step. It was a simple matter of reintroducing the two of them and setting them on their way.

“Whitney is off for rehearsals today, so we won’t be able to get into her lab, but we’ll look at everything else,” Samberly said with enthusiasm, gesturing towards the lab hallway.

“And to think I fixed my hair,” Howard answered with a grin. Smoothing a hand over hair and moustache to demonstrate the quality of his grooming.

Thompson watched as Stark and Samberly disappeared towards the labs. He hadn’t missed that little shot at the end. And he hadn’t forgotten what had happened with Stark and Dottie. “That’s going to be an issue.”

Angie made an unladylike noise that made it clear she agreed with Thompson and didn’t like what Howard’s comments implied. They had both met him. And while neither of them knew him the way Peggy or the Howling Commandos did, reputation and impression almost mattered more. They had been working hard to make the office a place everyone felt comfortable. The last thing any of them wanted was Howard flirting them all into awkwardness.

Peggy had noticed. She had been anticipating it. She had hoped it was just her need to pre-empt disaster and nothing would come of the anticipation. But she had considered the contingency. “I’ll take care of it.”

*****

Putting her plan into action was a matter of a simple phone call. She had already made some preliminary preparations. It was just a matter of ensuring that the final pieces were in place. The most vital of which was Howard.

She wouldn’t class what she was doing as an ambush. It was simply stealing her friend away from the tail end of his tour for a private, personal word. She caught him by the elbow halfway between the breakroom and the archival storage. “Grant would like you to come to dinner tonight.”

“Margaret Boudica Carter.” Howard clutched dramatically at his chest and leaned in so no one else could hear him whisper, “Are you living in sin?”

“Just to be clear, you are aware that isn’t my middle name?” Not that she minded being compared to the warrior queen. Although personally, she had done a lot to stop London being burned to the ground. But Howard had significant credibility and she didn’t want any of the new staff coming away from meeting him misinformed.

“Don’t dodge the question, Carter,” Howard shot back with a playful intensity. He wanted his answer and wasn’t about to let the question drop until he got it.

“Grant and I maintain separate apartments,” Peggy clarified, since he was so insistent. Exactly how many nights a week she ended up staying at Grant’s seemed like a pointless detail. “He would, however, like a chance to catch up. He will be cooking. I will be stopping to pick up dessert.”

*****

Howard stared around the tiny apartment. The bland white walls, the kitchen barely big enough to move in, the rickety table set for three, the second-hand couch, the window that looked out on a ventilation shaft full of laundry lines. It wasn’t shabby per se, but it wasn’t exactly up to scratch either. “You know you could have stayed at my place.”

“Peggy was staying at your place.” And Grant had wanted somewhere of his own. Somewhere he could really settle into his new life. And his apartment was good. Small, a little dark, but the location was great, and he’d already collected more than a few fond memories.

“She decided to move out too,” Howard objected. Peggy and that lovely bubbly woman who was her secretary now had both been staying. He’d had a house full of fun guests when he wasn’t here, and now that he was back, it was as silent as the grave. “Starting to feel like the two of you doubt my hospitality.”

“We don’t doubt your hospitality, Howard. We just wanted places of our own,” Peggy explained, stepping around Howard where he had stopped just inside the door so she could set down the bakery box she had been protecting since lunch.

“Hi, by the way,” Grant murmured behind her, bending just enough to brush a kiss to her cheek. He liked when she came home to him after work. Especially at a reasonable hour. It was a habit he wanted to encourage as much as possible.

“Flirt.” Peggy playfully batted away the hand that tried to sneak around her waist. “We have an audience.”

Grant grinned, relinquishing his embrace, but darting around to kiss her other cheek. She’d probably have Howard drive her home tonight to keep up appearances. But he knew where she’d be sleeping tomorrow night when they were properly alone. And Saturday they were going dancing with Gabe and Magda.

“Look at the two of you.” Howard lit up at the sight of the kiss. The two of them had been so awkward when they were on the coast; this was better. Cuter even than they were when they were in London. It gave him hope for the future. “I knew you crazy kids would get back together.”

Grant chuckled as he moved back to the stove. That made one of them, because he’d had some serious doubts before he’d gotten his shit together and found something to keep himself busy. “Nice having you back, Howard.”

Grant served up three plates and set them on the table, ushering Howard into the best seat before tucking in Peggy’s chair and taking his own spot next to her.

“What have you been up to?” Howard asked with genuine interest. ‘Grant’ was kind of a terrible correspondent. Which to be fair, he was too. Still, the guy could have sent one or two letters.

“Photojournalism. At least I’m trying it out.” The Germany article was still the only big thing he’d done, and it looked like the follow-up Asia article was stalled with everything going on in China right now. Which only made it more galling because everything going on in China was exactly why they should be over there documenting. A better journalist would have found a way by now.

“He’s brilliant,” Peggy countered defensively. And far too hard on himself. “Did you see the article in Life? His photos were stunning.” All of his photos were stunning, not just the ones that had made it to print.

“Haven’t really read anything other than industry journals the last few months,” Howard confessed. He’d been busy. Not busy busy. But occupied.

“Peggy’s overselling it.” Grant stretched so his hand was resting on the back of her chair. He appreciated the confidence in him, but she might be a little too close to see it objectively. “It was good, but it wouldn’t have gotten anywhere if Herman didn’t write the amazing article he did.”

Peggy tsked at him. Herman was talented enough, but Grant’s photos had been the star of the show. The mother and baby carriage had taken her breath away. They had made everything so real. So immediate and human.

“Those are yours on the wall?” Howard asked, gesturing to a row of prints that had been tacked to the wall. He’d thought it was odd, a dozen shots of what looked like random streets in New York, stuck up in uneven rows and covered in red crayon marks.

The only one that was framed was the picture of Peggy sitting by his pool. And that was halfway across the room, just where someone sitting on the couch could see it.

“Yeah. Side project I’m working on about the Kitchen.” Herman had a friend who’d needed some photos, and since they were still working on getting access to the places they wanted to go in Asia, he had needed something to fill the time. They were turning out pretty well so far. A half decent look at what life was like in the tenements that hadn’t gotten any less crowded since the war.

They chatted a little more about Grant’s work and Howard’s movie, the food. Light things of little consequence. The sort of small talk that usually filled dinner parties. Howard tried to show his amusement when Grant rubbed Peggy’s knee, or she hooked her ankle around his under the table.

The casual companionship lasted through dessert. Finally, Howard set aside his fork, leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh. He was comfortably full, his friends were here, and he was about ready to call them on the elephant in the room. “So, are you going to tell me why you wanted me to come over, or are we going to keep pretending this is just a friendly dinner?”

“What makes you think I have an alternate agenda?” Peggy folded her napkin and set it neatly by her plate.

“Please.” Howard looked at her meaningfully. The ‘sudden’ invitation for a home-cooked meal rather than a restaurant. Her picking up his favourite German chocolate cake. Grant deliberately steering things away from work talk while they were eating. “I’m a genius, Peggy. I can put two and two together.”

“Well, then I shouldn’t waste either of our time explaining my reservations about finally having you back in the office.” Somehow, Peggy thought she would have to. For all her friend’s brilliance, he had some very specific blind spots.

“I promise I’m not going to blow anything up. I’m done with bombs after the last one.” Japan had been… it had been worse than he’d expected. The science had been wonderful, but the results… Just the thought of it made him sick.

“Not a particular concern.” The lab area was reinforced for a reason. And even if it wasn’t, she’d simply find somewhere he could conduct more destructive experiments. Possibly a long-term project, but not tonight’s issue. “It’s about Frost.”

“You think she’s up to something?” Howard looked at Peggy sharply. It had been a coup, recruiting Frost the way Peggy had, but she was still quite the wild card. She had tried to take over the world, after all.

No. Thus far Whitney was more than living up to her end of the bargain. She took a few nights off every month to pursue her art, but for the most part, she had devoted herself to her science. And if she were anyone else, Peggy would be significantly less concerned about her friend working alongside her. “I think you have a particular weakness for curvy blonds and your genius disappears when you aren’t thinking with your head.”

Howard clutched his chest in dismay. “I’m wounded.”

She was sure he was. But they had worked closely during the war. She had seen what he was like. And he had shown every intention of picking up old habits even on his first day. “No one in the office, Howard. Not Frost, not any of the typing pool, not the new field agents. I don’t care if she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. I don’t care if she starts it. You aren’t to be romantically or physically involved with anyone who works for me.”

“A little flirting never hurt anyone,” Howards said, pouting defensively.

Oh yes. Peggy was sure that from his perspective, it was true. But then Howard had never had to fight to have his voice heard in the office. Never been told not to worry his pretty little head or asked which of the officers he belonged to. Never been crowded into a corner and had a senior member imply that he could help with progression in exchange for certain favours. “I’m serious, Howard. I am trying to set a tone and I won’t have you undermining it. The women in the office are equal to the men and I want them treated as such.”

Peggy wouldn’t have any of the women who worked for her thinking the ‘favours’ were even implied. Everyone who worked for her would rise and fall based on merit.

Howard looked at Peggy. Saw the seriousness there. And the ghost of all the things that had happened to her on her way up.

And he had seen for himself how different the atmosphere in the office was. The women all seemed… brighter somehow. As if they weren’t holding themselves back.

He shrank in on himself. This wasn’t about his pride. Half the world was women. He could avoid flirting with a few of them to help Carter realize her vision. “I can behave myself.”

“Good,” Peggy accepted crisply. There would be consequences if he couldn’t, but Peggy felt confident that now that he knew where the line was, he’d keep himself on the proper side. “Because I am very curious as to what you’ll make of Whitney’s electromagnet set up.”

That perked up Howard’s ears. He hadn’t seen the inside of Whitney’s lab. “What is she doing with electromagnets?”

“Improving your cannon,” Grant answered for Peggy, popping a last morsel into his mouth.

*****

Peggy shifted, trying to find a better position on the mattress. She just couldn’t find a place where she felt properly relaxed. And she really should be relaxed.

It was Saturday. Her precious date night with Grant. They had opted for dinner in and a walk rather than a more ambitious outing this week. A lovely stroll around Central Park, stopping to watch the swans and enjoy the setting sun. A little moment of calm for the two of them with her work so hectic and his plans for his next trip picking up. Then they had come back here, played a couple of games of chess to finish off the night, and started getting ready for bed in the peaceful domestic way she was starting to associate with her nights at Grant’s apartment. He’d let her use the washroom first, and was doing a last quick check of the doors and windows, wearing nothing but his boxers while she waited in bed. It really was her favourite place to be and her favourite person to be with.

She was much more comfortable here, with her head on Grant’s pillow, than she had been in ‘her’ bed last night. Nestled in his sheets, her usual pyjamas traded for one of his shirts. She was happy, she was content. And yet, her brain simply wouldn’t settle. The week turning over and over in her mind. Howard back, and fitting in. At least so far. “Do you think Howard will listen?”

“Still bugging you?” Grant stretched out next to Peggy in bed. Laying on his side so he could look at her. He wasn’t surprised. His girl hated an unknown quantity. She wanted clean answers.

It was. Frost was still out of the office working on her play more than she was in the lab. And Howard was still finding his way around. Once he was comfortable and Frost was around... once she and Thompson got more of their female field agents trained and they took up half the bullpen... “He’s such a flirt. Absolutely no self-control when it comes to women.”

Grant nodded in understanding. It was hard. Howard was their friend, and no one could deny that he was a genius. But there was also no denying that he had a weakness for pretty girls. “You told him your expectations. Either he’ll listen, or he won’t. You can cross that bridge when you get to it.”

Peggy hummed in noncommittal agreement. He was right. She knew he was. But she would prefer to get out ahead of the issue rather than do damage control after the fact. Marrina was due back from her undercover work soon. She could test the situation. She didn’t love the subterfuge. Tricking a friend who had trusted her with so much was just wrong. But she was responsible for the safety and comfort of everyone in the office. And if people saw Howard getting away with bad behaviour, they would think they could too.

Not that he had been behaving badly. He had been perfectly respectable so far. He had treated all the women he had encountered in the office so far as equals. She trusted him with her life. She should be able to trust him with this.

…And yet….

What was she doing? She was here, comfortably in bed with Grant. She had promised herself that Saturday night through Sunday afternoon were for them. This was not the time to let herself dwell on work. If she really wanted to talk to Grant about it, they could make dinner together Monday night and talk it all through.

Maybe, what she needed was a more thorough distraction.

“Grant?” Peggy rolled onto her stomach. Knees bending and ankles crossing so her feet swayed above them. A pretty picture for her artist’s eye.

Grant brushed a thumb over her lower lip. Damn but she did look good when she got that playful spark to her. “Yeah, doll?”

Peggy looked at him through sultry eyelashes. Yes. If she asked, Grant would be perfectly distracting. She could stay in this moment with him rather than worry about anything like work. “Would you like to go down on me?”

She asked like it wasn’t her favourite thing in the world. One of his favourite things too. They had both been so busy lately, and Peggy had been… indisposed… last weekend, so it felt like ages since he’d gotten a chance. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Peggy let out a delighted laugh as he scooped her into his arms and rearranged her on the bed. Wiggling her hips to help him remove her underwear. Unable to do anything other than giggle as he nipped playfully at her calf.

He didn’t bother with her shirt. It would come off in due time. Or it wouldn’t. Grant was fine either way. Either she’d be gloriously naked, or she’d be definitively his, coming apart in his half-buttoned shirt. He did slide a hand up it while he settled into place. Fondling her breasts and pinching her nipples. Her little gasps of pleasure ran through him like a bolt of lightning. Raising goosebumps on his skin and hardening his cock.

If that noise wasn’t enough to drive him wild, the sight of her laid out in front of him would have been. She was already glistening wetly, making his mouth water. Her legs spread invitingly, warm eyes peeking at him from the pillows. He kissed the mole on her thigh as he settled on his stomach. And felt his world crystallize into something perfect as she let out that first happy sigh.

Peggy let out a long, delicious moan as his mouth found her. Even the first strokes of his tongue leaving her melting with pleasure. It was more than enough encouragement for Grant to dive in. Devouring her with an undeniable passion. Filling her with shimmering stars and glowing blossoms of light. Everything that was good and wonderful and him.

Grant set a hand on the softness of her stomach. Holding Peggy at an angle he could work with as she squirmed and gasped with pleasure. He could taste her getting wetter and wetter as he licked and sucked. Feel her pulse speeding up. He loved every sign and signal of how much she was enjoying herself. Voluntary and involuntary.

Peggy arched. Clutched desperately at the hand anchoring her. Felt physical pleasure mix with her love for her partner. For Grant and everything they had together. Her world narrowing to just them.

And exploding into endless bliss.

Grant covered her hips and thighs with kisses as she settled back into the bed and herself. God, he loved watching her do that. Loved being the reason she did. Loved that she trusted him enough to share her magic with him.

Peggy reached for him. What she wanted most in this moment was the weight and warmth of him on top of her.

Grant obliged her. Matching their bodies from neck to knee. Not putting his entire weight on her, but enough to ground her. She was centred. She was loved. She was very here and in this moment.

“Are there any condoms left?” She knew they had used quite a few recently, and she wasn’t sure he’d had a chance to stop for more with how busy he’d been. Peggy hated that Grant was the only one of them responsible. Not that she didn’t trust him to take care of the matter. It was just that it was completely irrational that he was the only one of them allowed to buy them.

“We’ve got a couple,” Grant assured her. Not as many as he’d like considering the pharmacy was closed tomorrow. They’d have to be responsible. Or at least do things that didn’t need a condom. Which could be just as fun in their own way.

Peggy pursed her lips. Rubbing her leg against his as she thought. She could feel him hard and hot against her hip. Excited, but not pushing her for more in this moment. She was sure that if she told him she didn’t want more right now, he would understand, maybe kiss her a little more, but encourage her to relax. He might indulge and slip off to the bathroom, but equally he might just roll her into his arms and settle down with her for the night. Knowing that made her want to offer more. Because it was an offer, not an expectation. “Would you like to use one of them?”

Grant let out a long shuddering breath. “Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur. Adveniat regnum tuum.”

“That’s a bad habit, you know. You’re not supposed to be Catholic anymore,” Peggy teased, tapping the tip of his nose playfully. A bad habit, but terribly flattering. Nothing made one feel quite as glorious as the man you were with having to stop and thank the Lord.

“How many other people you think are driving me crazy like you do?” Grant growled, biting and kissing her neck and shoulders. No one else was about to break him like she did. No one else filled him with light and love like his Pegs. Or made his head reel like she did. He wanted her. Of course he wanted her. How could he not want her? Any time, but especially when he could still taste her on his tongue.

“Flatterer.” Peggy curled her fingers into his hair. Tugging until he returned his mouth to hers. Long deep kisses as their bodies slid together. She kept her hands in his hair and on his neck as he fumbled on a condom. Kissing and laughing and gasping with pleasure as they finally came together.

Grant breathed her in as they moved together. Holding her close as she arched off the bed to meet him. Revelling in the sight of her beneath him. The feel of her hot and tight around him.

He closed his eyes, finding a rhythm that matched her and made her gasp prettily. They moved together. An endless building driving them towards something inevitable and perfect. Nearly as perfect as being together.

Peggy moaned. The feeling of Grant’s pleasure pushing her over the edge into her own bliss. She clutched at him. Holding him with her as he twitched and she shuddered. As they tumbled into eternity together.

Grant eased himself out of her embrace and the bed, just long enough to dispose of the condom. When he looked back at her, soft and sweet in his bed, he knew he never wanted to be anywhere else than with this wonderfully intelligent and stubborn woman.

Peggy snuggled onto his shoulder as soon as he lay back down. Being together after was one of her favourite parts of this new chapter in their life, and she didn’t want to neglect a moment.

Grant stroked her cheek. Gazing into those entrancing hazel eyes. She was it. The love of his life. Everything he could ever want. “My best girl.”

“Love,” Peggy breathed back, as a pet name, as a title, as the emotion filling her entire body in this moment. She felt heavy. Her body hard to move. Not because she was tired exactly, more because she was exactly where she belonged.

When they fell asleep it was wrapped warm and happy in each other’s arms.

*****

Grant loved watching Peggy get ready for the day. The intimacy of making coffee and tea while she stretched lazily and slowly dressed and did her hair. Went from the sleepy snuggly creature nestled against his side to the beautiful, put together woman the rest of the world saw. He leaned against the door frame now, watching adoringly as she pinned her curls into shape. She looked more relaxed than she had been last night. But he could still see her brilliant mind working. “Hey, Pegs?”

“Hmm?” Peggy paused in her primping to look at him. Beyond handsome in just his undershirt and slacks. She wondered if he would stay like that during their morning. If he did, there was a real chance they would end up back in bed before lunch. Especially if he was beating her at chess. She hated to lose, even to him. And he made sure she never lost in bed.

Grant grinned. He knew that look. He also knew that that particular look would only be improved by the question he wanted to ask. “You want to come over for dinner tomorrow and we can talk out your Howard issue?”

Peggy set down her brush. She did. She really truly did. She also hadn’t wanted to bring it up during what was supposed to be their time. But of course, he had seen, and he had known. And he wanted to both help her with her problem and keep their time for just them. “I am so deeply in love with you.”

“I know, doll.” He reached out to tug one of her loose curls lightly. A couple of hiccups, but he’d never really doubted they’d figure it out.

“Arse.” Peggy smacked his chest playfully and melted into him. He might tease her by not saying it back in this moment, but she knew he loved her back.

She turned her face up and received exactly the soft kiss she had expected. A lazy morning, then maybe a walk to the soda counters a few blocks over to split an egg cream to get their energy up. No more going Dutch to pretend they were less than what they were to each other. He would pay when they went out. She wouldn’t hesitate to pick up groceries so they could eat in together. Neither of them would worry too much about the exact balance, because in the end they would end up even. She would give him her whole heart, and be blessed with his in return.

Notes:

*Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Let your kingdom come.

Chapter 54: Bon Voyage

Cozy evenings at home were something Peggy didn’t indulge in often. She had far too much work for that sort of thing, and on the nights she didn’t have an excess of work, she tended to spend her evenings away from her apartment. She wouldn’t be here tonight, for that matter, except Grant had telephoned Angie at lunch to let her know he had a dinner meeting and wouldn’t be home until late. Still, even as she sat on the couch with a novel in her lap, she couldn’t help wishing she was on a different couch. Even if Grant wasn’t there, she could read as easily there as here, and when he finally did arrive home, they could fall asleep in each other’s arms.

She could picture exactly what would it would be like. She would fall asleep on the couch. When he arrived home, Grant would bend over her. Kiss her softly to wake her. When she eased off the couch, it would be directly into his arms. They’d talk about what had happened in his meeting while they got ready for bed. It would all be–

Her contemplation was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door.

She wasn’t expecting anyone, but she recognised the knock. Firm, but not aggressive. Confident in where and who he was. She was already dressed for bed in her favourite silky pyjamas, her robe hanging loose and open. Not at all fit for company. She barely glanced through the peephole before she pulled open the door. “Darling.”

Grant smiled down at Peggy. She was adorably shorter than him in her soft little house shoes. Her head level with the centre of his chest. He reached out and brushed a curl back from her face. “Hey, Pegs.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Peggy smoothed her hands down his chest. She wouldn’t say he never surprised her at home. But it was a rare occurrence, and she would be the first to admit that every instance had been special.

Grant slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly behind him. “Herman heard back from our translator.”

“Oh?” Peggy smiled up at him. That had been the sticking point for months. Finding someone who could help them communicate and who wasn’t afraid to take them everywhere they wanted to go.

“We’re set to go by the end of the month.” Grant caught her hand. Running his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. “Just have to get there.”

“Oh.” Peggy deflated just a little. She didn’t want Grant to see how disappointed she was; he’d been working towards this trip for months, but… Two weeks, less than two weeks with travel time, and she was due to spend essentially all of it on the other side of the continent. She was due in Los Angeles to finish integrating the California SSR office into S.H.I.E.L.D. by Tuesday. For that matter, he’d likely have to leave almost at the same time she did if he was going to make it to Asia by the end of the month.

Grant stroked her cheek. He knew. He understood. At least they had a little more notice this time. A chance to say goodbye. “Thought I might fly out with you. Hang out for a few days before we catch our boat out of San Francisco on the fifth.”

A few days while she worked from dawn ‘til dusk. And then he’d be gone for who knew how long. Peggy snuggled herself against his chest. A glimpse of their complicated future. “I want my postcards.”

“That’s the deal.” Grant cradled the back of her head tenderly. He’d write one every day, even if he had to send them in batches. They had talked about it back when he and Herman had been planning things. Mail from that far away wasn’t great. There would be long stretches when he wouldn’t be able to get anything to her, and he wouldn’t be able to get anything back at all.

Peggy curled her fingers around the base of his suspenders. Pushing back from his chest so she could look up at him. Steady, confident, and here. She took one step back, then another, pulling him with her deeper into the apartment. And he followed, one steady step after another. His eyes on hers the whole way.

Until she stepped across the threshold to her own room. Then the hands resting so softly on her hips tightened. He closed the door in the same motion he spun them and crushed her against it. “What are you planning, Director Carter?”

Peggy ran her hands up his sides. Looking up at him through her lashes. “Just a little incentive for you to keep your trip as efficient as possible.”

“You want me to rush home to you, Pegs?” Grant dipped his head to kiss her neck.

“Not before you’re ready.” Peggy peeled his jacket off his shoulders. “I’d hate to rush your work.” She popped the button on his fly. “But I don’t want you dawdling either.”

Grant chuckled and shrugged the suspenders off as well. She didn’t have to worry about that. He wasn’t spending a minute longer than he needed to away from her.

He let her fuss with his buttons while he focused on more important things. Like pressing her more firmly against the door and hitching her leg up around his hip. Devouring her sweet, luscious mouth. She seemed primarily concerned with getting his clothes off, which he was happy to help with. He was more interested in memorizing every inch of her. Peggy wanted to give him a reason to hurry back. He wanted to give her just as much reason to want him back.

Peggy struggled Grant’s shirt off, pulling it free of his trousers and practically throwing it across the room. The better to drag her hands over his chest. Meet him kiss for kiss. Let the door take her weight because her knees couldn’t, and his hands were busy. Gloriously busy as one slid up her thigh and the other found its way under her shirt.

“Grant,” Peggy panted. She wanted him. Loved him. Needed him. Needed to share the warmth threatening to flood her chest with him. Needed him to know just how much she would miss him.

“I love when you say my name,” Grant growled into her skin. It made it feel like it was really his. Because how could it be anything else when she said it with such emotion?

“Grant,” Peggy purred more deliberately. Stroking his abs. “Take me to bed.”

Grant glanced over his shoulder at Peggy’s bed. Small, but welcoming. He wasn’t sure why they weren’t over there already himself. He wrapped his arm around her waist again. Sweeping her up and half dancing her across the room. She laughed and pressed against him.

They tumbled into the blankets together. Hands and mouths everywhere as Grant peeled off the shirt from Peggy’s pyjamas.

Peggy didn’t think about the fact Grant would be leaving. She couldn’t think about anything other than touching and being touched. About the love flowing between them. Together, they struggled out of the rest of their clothes. Peggy covering Grant’s hand as he guided it between her legs. Sighing when his fingers finally slipped inside her too excited body. A heightening, and a relief all at once.

Grant stared into those soft hazel eyes. He loved her. Loved every stubborn, opinionated ounce of her. She could bring generals to their knees with her sharp tongue. But she melted on his fingers. Writhing under his touch. Arching into him. Alternating between gasps of pleasure and the hungry, devouring kisses that left him achingly hard where he pressed against her hip.

Peggy gasped, digging her nails into his forearm. More than torn between keeping his fingers exactly where they were and letting him ravish her. She loved his fingers. But she loved all of him.

“I love you.” And she wanted to feel that love. She didn’t just want him to make her feel good. She wanted both of them to feel all of it. “I need you.”

Grant knew how Peggy got when she was staking her claim, and he had come prepared. Only one condom stashed in the pocket of his pants, but enough for them to share the moment she wanted. “You got me, Pegs.” He rolled over Peggy. There wasn’t a lot of space in the little bed. In his, they liked to sprawl. Let their limbs spread wide to hold as much love as possible. Here, they needed to stay close. That meant keeping his arms around her. He kissed her neck. Her collarbone. Stroked her skin as he spread her legs. Let her guide him into her. “You’ve always got me.”

Peggy’s lips parted. All of it rushing through her. She arched off the mattress. Meeting him and taking him in. She did. He was hers and she was his. Here, now, and forever.

Time stretched endless between them. Past and future erased by the pure intensity of now.

They collapsed in a pile of love and heaving chests. Grant rolling them so he didn’t crush Peggy. Both deliciously exhausted.

Peggy snuggled herself under Grant’s chin. Luxuriating in the warmth of his arms around her and the feel of his skin against her. She’d miss him with an excruciating intensity, but she was still so terribly pleased that he was finally making progress on the project he was so excited for. “I can’t wait to see the pictures you’ll take.”

“I can’t wait to be back with you after,” Grant purred into her hair. He was excited for this trip. The more research he and Herman did, the more confident he was that there was a real and meaningful story there. But he wished he didn’t have to be away from her for so long. She was in the home stretch consolidating the SSR into S.H.I.E.L.D. By the time he got back, she’d be done, or something would have gone devastatingly wrong.

Peggy closed her eyes. Dreaming of that reunion even as she drifted off.

*****

Grant didn’t usually spend the night at Peggy’s. Her landlady might not be the strictest, but she still took offense at the idea of her charge’s virtue being suspect. Regular nighttime visitors were the sort of thing that got leases terminated. Not worth it most of the time. Not when his landlord didn’t care, and his bed had more space for them. But a risk he took often enough to justify having at least one clean shirt hanging in her closet.

At the dressing table, Peggy rolled on her stockings. Her makeup already mostly done. A more enjoyable process than on the average day with Grant watching. He just seemed so fascinated by what she considered such a mundane task.

Grant grinned to himself as he grabbed his tie. He liked getting ready together. The intimacy of it. The magic of watching Peggy transform from the sleepy kitten he adored, snuggled against him all soft and adorable, to the fierce creature who ran S.H.I.E.L.D with such determination and skill. The two sides of the woman he loved.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grant caught Peggy packing a second set of clothes into a string bag. A neat bundle with all the things she’d need to spend the night away from home. He smiled. Looked like he’d have a little extra to carry home with him. And a warm night with his best girl to look forward to.

At least one and probably more than one, given that he was leaving soon. A few more nights in New York. A long flight where they could just sit and talk about nothing in particular. Then a last week spent in a hotel watching her work her magic on yet another office. It would be an easy week at least. Daniel wouldn’t give her any trouble and he’d already done a lot of the work to prepare for the merger.

“Where are we staying in California?” Grant wrapped his hands around Peggy’s waist and pulled her flush against him, interrupting her attempts to button her blouse. Actually, together might be hard, but close. Somewhere they could have breakfast together and he could take her to the office in the morning. That felt possible.

“Daniel arranged for a hotel for my visit.” One he promised had a good restaurant. One where they could go for dinner. Maybe invite Daniel and Violet to join them. They could laugh together, eat, enjoy themselves away from work for a while.

“Can your secretary get me a name for that hotel?” Hopefully, it was a progressive hotel that wouldn’t mind renting him a room on the same floor as her. Or better yet, he could slip the clerk a little extra to get them adjoining rooms. Spend their last nights before he had to leave actually together instead of just close. But even just in the building would be good. He loved breakfast with his girl more than almost anything.

Peggy smoothed his tie. She suspected Angie would give it to him if he asked. On the other hand, she could use it as an excuse to call him herself after lunch. “I’ll get it for you.”

“And flight times?” Grant asked, tightening his hands on her hips.

Peggy smiled up at him. Of course, she’d tell him what time her flight was. There was hardly a point to his coming if they missed out on so much time together. She didn’t want to miss a moment with him before his extended absence. “Shall we discuss travel plans over dinner tonight?”

*****

Hot sun beat down on the California runway the same way it had on Peggy’s first arrival over a year ago. Peggy adjusted the same sunglasses. Despite the similarity, this trip was nothing like that. She wasn’t running away from a strained and tenuous position to surreptitiously assist with a convoluted mystery. She was firmly and confidently Director of a new and thriving organization. Here to bring one of the most successful SSR offices into the fold and extend S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reach from coast to coast.

And on a purely personal note, the flight had been worlds more enjoyable with Grant sitting next to her. Leaning in close to read her magazine over her shoulder. Muttering commentary in her ear. His shoulder to pillow her when she drifted off part way through. His hand on the small of her back as they collected their luggage.

Peggy smiled at him as he handed her into a cab. He was so terribly handsome in a bright striped shirt that brought out his eyes. The pleats on his pants crisp even after their long plane ride. Smiled right back, and once their bags were stowed in the boot and he was sitting next to her, his hand found hers on the seat.

*****

The hotel that Peggy was slated to stay at for the night was an elegant building halfway between downtown and the studio lots. Not one of the ladies’ hotels she had spent so much time in of late that always had a slightly depressing aura of shabby gentility. But a truly refined building that catered primarily to executives from both the mining industry and Hollywood.

Peggy hesitated just inside the lobby. It was a lovely place, but she wished they were here for more pleasant reasons. A vacation in the sun rather than a few stolen hours before Grant left. “Are you going to be alright while I’m at work tomorrow?”

“I’ll be fine, Pegs.” He’d find something to keep himself busy. Maybe take some photos at the beach. Then he’d pick her up from the office. Take her dancing. Make the most of their limited time together. “Go get checked in. Once we get the bags put away, we’ll see about some dinner.”

True. Peggy had very little desire to stand around in a lobby still in her traveling clothes. They’d check in, she’d call Daniel quickly to let him know she’d made it into town. Maybe see if he had a recommendation for a restaurant. Then change into one of the pretty dinner dresses she’d brought and properly enjoy a meal with her love.

Leaving her case with Grant for the time being, Peggy made her way to the desk.

“Hello,” Peggy smiled brightly, fishing in her purse for the note she’d written herself. “There should be a reservation under–”

“I’m sorry, Miss. I can’t check you in today,” the clerk said with a judgmental sniff.

“What? Whyever not?” The smile vanished from Peggy’s face. Daniel had made reservations for her absolutely ages ago. There was more of a question when it came to a room for Grant. But even there, it was the off season, there should be space.

“We are a respectable hotel,” the clerk said with a pointed look between her left hand resting on the counter and where Grant was standing with their luggage.

Peggy followed his eyeline and the path of his logic. A man. A woman. A hotel. It wasn’t hard to see what he had assumed. And yes, they were a couple. Grant was the love of her life, and there were few things that made her day better than waking up wrapped in his arms. There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that. Especially since they weren’t attempting to do anything that would cause the hotel trouble. She wouldn’t be waking up in his arms. They would have separate rooms for the sake of everyone else’s propriety. “I think there is some confus–”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the clerk cut her off again. Pulling the hotel log definitively away from her. Making it clear she wouldn’t be signing it today.

Peggy gaped at him. He had to be joking. This was a work trip. Not a torrid affair. She would be spending her days in endless meetings, not some sort of bacchanal. She and Grant would be having quiet dinners in the restaurant, not proselytizing for the benefits of hedonism. The most risqué thing she had planned was letting Grant take her dancing at the club on Sunset.

“Come on, Pegs.” Grant curled a hand around her fingers, gently tugging her back towards the door. “It’s not worth the fight.”

Peggy was in shock as they found themselves back on the street. She was sure it had only been moments since they’d gone inside, but already the cab was gone. Leaving them stranded on the street with nowhere to go.

“We can stay at Howard’s,” Grant offered. He was pretty sure that would be too simple. There had to be a reason they weren’t staying there in the first place. But it was an idea off the top of his head.

“Jarvis and Ana are visiting her family in Switzerland, so the house is closed up. It’s why I had a hotel booked in the first place.” And Howard was sequestered in his lab back in New York. And anyway it was ages away from the office and further to the train station. They’d barely have any time together before he left.

“Then we might have to stay at different hotels.” Grant stroked her cheek. It wasn’t that long. Less time than they spent apart during the week back home. And it wasn’t like they’d miss out on dinners together. Just breakfast. And the nights he’d never really thought they’d be able to steal. Disappointing, but not the end of the world. They’d done it before. Yeah, it wasn't what he wanted, but it was still better than not seeing each other at all.

“It isn’t fair.” Peggy felt a righteous anger growing in her chest. One tempered by a desperate sadness and loss. If they were strangers, they would have been allowed to do exactly what they had planned. Stay in separate rooms and only interact in public. Because they knew and loved each other, they lost even that.

“I know.” Grant slipped his arms around her waist. Holding her close and steady. Any night they were in the same city but not the same bed was unfair. “What do you want to do, Pegs?”

What did she want to do? She wanted to be allowed to spend as much time as possible with the man she loved before he left her for months. She wanted to be waiting at home when he finally returned and to not have to hide how much she loved and missed him.

A single, perfectly insane idea crystallized in Peggy’s mind. The words erasing any sensible thought from her mind. “Marry me.”

“Peggy?” Grant said her name because it was the only thing he could think to say. It was what he’d wanted to hear for so long. Since the war. Since their first time in bed together. Since the first time she had let him kiss her. They had talked about it a little, mostly in theory. And now here she was. Just saying it like it was the most obvious thing.

“Marry me. Las Vegas. We can be married by this time tomorrow. I know it’s not the church wedding you wanted.” Peggy was sure he had grand plans for when she finally agreed. Maybe even a return to England to make her parents happy. “But—”

Grant tightened his hold on her to stop her spiralling. He wouldn’t lie. He’d liked the idea of a church wedding. Peggy with orange blossoms in her hair. But it wasn’t anything like the part he was looking forward to the most. “Pegs, all I ever wanted was to be married to you. The how doesn’t matter.”

“You’re sure?” Peggy breathed, the frantic flood crystallizing into something more stable. It was an insane idea. But it felt surprisingly right for them.

Grant heard the words behind the words. I love you. And he loved her. With every fibre of his being, he loved this crazy, impulsive woman. “Car or train?”

Instead of answering, Peggy grabbed his face. Pulled him down and kissed him with all the want and love in her body.

Chapter 55: Impulsive Decisions

Union Station might not be quite as glamourous as Grand Central, but it had its own sort of elegance. With its Spanish mission styling and a beautifully painted coffered ceiling. And there was no doubt it had the same bustle. The energy of hundreds of people on hundreds of journeys. The air humming with potential.

Or maybe that was just Grant’s blood. If someone had told him this time yesterday that he’d be where he was, he would have asked them what they were drinking. After all, he and Peggy had been somewhere comfortable. Their relationship was good. They loved and supported each other. Made a concerted effort to communicate with each other. There hadn’t been a burning need to push things forward in a hurry. Right up until there was.

He let Peggy tackle tickets for the train. He didn’t think she’d have a problem buying them if he wasn’t hovering over her shoulder, and she needed something to do, or she’d start to brood and get all snarly. His beautiful woman of action.

Besides, he had to make a call. One that took forever to finally connect. “Hey, you busy tonight?”

“Depends,” Bucky answered with a yawn. “What trouble you get yourself into?”

The absolute best kind. “Need someone to stand up for me.”

“Sly dog.” Bucky barked out a laugh. There was a scuffle on the other end of the line, presumably Bucky waking up the other person or people in his bed. “Where?”

“Vegas, that’s all we’ve got so far. But we’ll find somewhere.” There were places. Lots of places, he was sure. The city was notorious for it. They’d find somewhere. He’d ask at the hotel. Or hell, there might be something just in the phonebook.

“And Buck?” Grant weighed exactly how he wanted to word the question. It was all so rushed. He hadn’t had a chance to plan any of it. Not that he wanted to change a thing. He just wished he had some time for the details. It hadn’t been that long since he’d known exactly how he wanted to do this. “About the rings…”

“Pretty sure we can scrounge something up,” Bucky said with a knowing chuckle. His joy and enthusiasm for the idea audible. Without the trace of reservation Grant hadn’t recognised until it was gone.

A relieved wave rushed through Grant as a laugh. Of course they could. Steve probably had everything all arranged. He’d know one ring size at least, and given that Grant had Peggy’s memorized, he’d put money on both.

*****

If she were being responsible, Peggy would have made this call before they left LA. Of course, responsibility had left the room around the time she had bought a pair of first-class tickets for the train. Certainly, it was gone by the time they disembarked the taxi outside a hotel in Las Vegas. Eyes dazzled by the sheer number of lights. Heart fluttering with excitement she hadn’t felt since she had first been allowed to lead a field team.

Now, she and Grant were firmly ensconced in different rooms. No issues with checking in here. All Grant had to do was say they needed two rooms tonight and one tomorrow as they were getting married in the morning, and they had both been put up more than comfortably. Not on the same floor, but still close enough that there was very little to stop Grant sneaking down to her, or her sneaking up to him. She would tumble laughing into his arms. Grant would pull the blankets over their heads, and they would giggle together. Nose to nose like school children getting into mischief. Then Grant would kiss her. Tell her how much he loved her. She would wrap her arms around his neck and confess her own unending devotion.

Not that she would. They were rushing this entire affair. She could sacrifice a night of pleasure to meet one expectation.

It was tempting though.

On the other hand, she should at least pretend to be responsible. And she really did need to keep her team abreast of the situation. Which meant no thoughts of sneaking off until she finished her phone call. She had to finish her vegetables before she could have her pudding. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the line to connect.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered.

“Daniel.” Peggy pushed her shoulders down and back. Trying to feel like a professional rather than like she had just snuck out of school. “So sorry to wake you.”

“Peggy?” Daniel still sounded confused and unalert. “Is something wrong?”

Wrong? No. Everything was terribly right. Hectic, but very right. “I’m afraid the hotel you were so kind to book for me fell through. I will be missing tomorrow’s meetings.”

She had intended to take proper time for a honeymoon after they married, but that simply wasn’t going to happen. She really did need to finish the onboarding of the California office this month. And Grant was slated to be on a boat to Hong Kong by the end of the week.

But one extra day wouldn’t hurt. A day they could indulge in each other. Revel in the pleasure of their marital bed guilt-free. Yes. One extra day. Just for them. “Likely the ones the day after as well. I trust you and Thompson to get us started. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

*****

Nine in the morning was not when Jack wanted to get this sort of news. Peggy had been taking a later flight than he was. Something about personal matters meaning she couldn’t get away sooner. But as of when he had left the office, she had been confident that everything was going to go to plan. “What do you mean she’s not coming?”

“I don’t know.” If Daniel had any more information, he would have shared it with Thompson. He didn’t. They were flying completely blind. “She called at like 1:30 last night and said she wasn’t coming. Some issue with the hotel.”

Yeah. That’s what Daniel had said when he first pulled him aside. “What are we supposed to do?”

“She said she trusts us.” Which had been nice to hear. But would have been nicer if it hadn’t been part of her throwing them into the deep end without a life raft.

Thompson looked over at the conference room full of waiting agents and scientists. Daniel had already culled a lot of the people he didn’t think would make it under Carter. And the remaining staff of the Los Angeles SSR office clearly sensed that they were on the cusp of something big. “Fuck it. Let’s just tell them what’s happening.”

Well, Daniel didn’t have a better plan. “After you.”

*****

On second thought, running away to the middle of the desert might not have been Peggy’s best idea. She didn’t have a shadow of a reservation about marrying Grant. But she had packed for a work trip. The nicest dress she had with her was her purple dress. Pretty, but not exactly… bridal. She didn’t necessarily want one of the pointless massive gowns the society women went in for. She was too practical for that. But something a little special…

Still. Peggy spread the dress on the foot of the bed. It was one of her favourites. The colour was good on her, and it brought out the richness of her hair. At least that was what she was telling herself. If only she had better accessories. A really smart hat. Black stockings rather than nude. Or a lace edged petticoat instead of just her regular slip. There was a snag on the skirt. Peggy had darned it, but looking at it now, the mend wasn’t as invisible as she had thought it was.

“Is that what you’re planning on wearing?” a light voice asked from behind her.

Peggy didn’t question how Ayame had gotten in, or why she was here. Really, it was a meaningless detail, and she was rather glad to have another woman’s opinion. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring much else with me.”

“Luckily you have devoted friends who want you to be able to put your best foot forward.” Ayame set a large box next to the dress. They were firmly in the period where New York started to rival Paris for the capital of fashion. It had been easy enough to stop by a dressmaker downtown and pick up something worthy of the occasion.

“Do I?” Peggy liked to think she and Ayame were at least becoming friends. So far most of their interactions had involved at least some element of peril or urgency, but that was a form of bonding. And they did have quite a bit in common.

Peggy tugged free the twine securing the box. And discovered very nearly the dress she had envisioned.

It was white, but not starkly so, as if it had been lightly dipped in pale green dye. Just enough to tone the colour. The skirt, frothy and full in a way it couldn’t have been during the war. Tea length which would make it suitable for a number of occasions later in her life. The sleeves were adorable. Slightly puffed, with ties that made the volume look as effortless as it was elegant. A bright green belt cinched the waist to a miniscule dimension, and there was a matching little pillbox hat with a small piece of net veil nestled in the top corner of the box. Peggy stroked the fabric of the skirt. Real silk that shimmered even in the dreary hotel light.

“A shame about the shoes.” Peggy had her black heels, which wouldn’t clash exactly. But even polished, they were starting to show their age.

Ayame rolled her eyes. As if she hadn’t thought of that. This was Steve’s Peggy. She deserved to look good on her wedding day. “Check the box again.”

A peek under the last of the tissue in the box showed Peggy what she had missed. The most perfect bottle green heels that matched the belt exactly, and were just her size. Another piece that would benefit her wardrobe in the long term. She liked a practical outfit for work, but she didn’t want to lose her femininity in dressing professionally. These would add the same brightness to her office wear that they did to this much more graceful outfit.

“I brought you these too.” Ayame passed her a small jewellery box. One that she knew matched the box her husband was carrying.

Peggy popped open the velvet top. Earrings. Simple but luxurious. Deep jade cabochons set in delicate gold frames and polished to a lustrous shine. Jade might not be the most expensive gemstone, but between the exceptionally bright colour and precise craftsmanship they must have cost a fortune. “As my something borrowed?”

“Because jade brings luck to brides.” Harmony, prosperity, and a peaceful marriage. All things Ayame wanted for Grant and Peggy.

Peggy took in the whole outfit. She would be… She would be beautiful. Not a pretty and demure bride. But herself, made elegant and romantic. It would look stunning in the pictures she was sure Grant would want to take. She would have to remind him that she wanted at least a few pictures of the two of them together. “I love him so very much.”

Amy smiled. She knew. She was as sure as she had ever been that the two of them would be truly happy together. “He loves you too.”

*****

Steve had tried not to be jealous of Amy and Bucky being allowed to go out into the world while he was basically trapped in the Sanctum. It hadn’t been that long. A little over two weeks by his internal clock. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been allowed to leave at all. It was just that all his parts of the mission had all been away from the main group or one-on-one with Peggy. They were the ones who got to work with the old team. Check in with everyone. See how they were doing after everything that had happened.

He knew why it had to be them and not him. He and Grant showing up together would raise too many questions for the people who knew them. Even just swapping the two of them out would raise questions they couldn’t comfortably answer. He had to stay away to protect their future. Even if it stung.

But they were strangers here. No one knew them. Any of them. He and Grant could be brothers, and no one would raise so much as an eyebrow. A small mercy that meant Steve got to share this moment instead of sitting at home waiting to hear about it. And he wanted to be here. Needed to be here.

Grant gazed down at the green velvet box Steve had pressed into his hand once he was dressed. Two rings tucked into a slot in the little pillow. Gold set with a glittering diamond flanked by deep green stones. The matching band didn’t have the centre stone, but its row of diamonds alternating with more green stones glittered just as bright. “Emeralds?”

“For peace and new beginnings,” Steve answered easily. He’d thought a lot about it before picking rings for them. It had been a few years since the war, but Steve still wanted that peace and hope for them.

“And she does look good in green.” Grant stroked his thumb over the soft box. It brought out the hazel in her eyes.

Yeah. There was that too. Steve touched his own wedding band. He remembered just how magical his own wedding day had been. The love of it. And also the nerves. God, he’d been so scared that something would go wrong and he’d be separated from his people.

Bucky huffed under his breath. Hopeless romantics, the pair of them. He flipped Grant the last ring. It was more practical. A plain gold band. Classic and simple. The only decoration was a number inscribed on the inside face. “The date is a couple of days after we got out of Bastogne. Seemed like a good time for the two of you to have met.”

“Yeah.” Grant blushed when he saw the exact day. Deliberately avoiding looking at Steve. It was a believable date for his alias to have had an initial interaction with Peggy. It also happened to be the first time he and Peggy had promised each other they’d make it through the war and spend the rest of their lives together. The first time he’d asked her to come back to New York with him. Talking about life after had been breaking an unspoken rule. But he’d been about to put Peggy back on a plane to London and had suddenly been struck by the fear that their final goodbye would be the same. She’d pulled him away for a stolen kiss, and he’d been overwhelmed by the need to know they weren’t a matter of convenience. He’d asked her to come home with him when everything was over. And she had said ‘yes.’

He looked up at Steve, blushing a little himself, and knew that the date hadn’t been a random choice.

Bucky elbowed his husband. Sap. He needed to save at least some of that energy. The more they talked about what he had missed, the more he thought the three of them were going to have to have a second wedding when they got home. Break out the whole dog and pony show to prove they really were in love.

Steve clapped Grant on the shoulder. He could have picked any date, but he’d wanted something that would let Peggy know this was as much a continuation as a new start. A new chapter in a story that would last the rest of their lives. He hoped their story would go smoother than his had, and be at least half as happy. “Let’s get you married.”

*****

They opted for the side stairs rather than the main, to avoid the crowds headed to and from the casino. Bucky liked playing cards as much as the next guy, but they were on a mission. One that Bucky had prepared himself for, and one he’d thought he’d never have to do, and one he wasn’t nearly as scared of now that he had his family and his future.

Bucky caught Steve by the sleeve, holding him back. Just for a second. He wouldn’t keep his guy long. All he wanted was a private moment with his husband on what had to be a complicated day. “Have I mentioned I like this suit on you?”

Steve looked down at his outfit. He’d dressed up, but not too much. Something like what Bucky would have worn before the war more than what he would have. The pleats in the pants neatly pressed, the jacket significantly oversized compared to what he would normally wear at home. He felt more comfortable than handsome. “Aims hates it.”

He’d seen it in the purse of her lips when they were leaving. The flash in her eyes that told him she would happily shred every thread of fabric from his body and not just to get to his skin.

“Aims also doesn’t like your beard.” Where as Bucky loved it. It made his guy look so healthy and rugged. He rubbed a hand over it now. Wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could feel it properly. It was thick, and so soft from the oil Ayame insisted on as a temporary measure. Steve was happy, and healthy, and they shared the most beautiful family.

Steve did the only thing he could do when Bucky looked at him like that. He cupped the back of his guy’s neck and dragged him down into a long, slow kiss.

“Trying to get us arrested, punk?” Not that Bucky was complaining, exactly. Even after all this time he was still occasionally amazed at the fact that he got to kiss Steve.

Steve grinned and pecked him on the lips one more time. A problem here. Not a problem when they got home. “You started it.”

Grant jogged back up the stairs. They’d only just left the hotel room and already they were off schedule. “Are you two coming or do I have to flag down a taxi on my own?”

“Coming.” Bucky set a hand between Steve’s shoulders and pushed his guy ahead of him down the stairs. Aims might have a point. A shorter jacket and tighter pants wouldn’t hurt. They’d talk about it later. He wasn’t afraid to tell their wife when she was right. “We’re coming.”

Chapter 56: So This Is Love

It was the courthouse in the end. A big sandstone and brick building with fake columns carved into the façade. Tall windows reflecting back the bright sunlight. A modern temple to law and order. Built to represent the city’s dedication to wiping out organized crime. A grand statement that the mob didn’t own this city. More importantly, at least as far as Grant was concerned, they would let him marry his girl today and with next to no hoops. Standing under the arched portico, between the top of the wide entrance stairs and the shiny painted doors, he could appreciate that it was a solid building, even if it wasn’t a church.

Grant would have liked a proper Anglican priest. If only so he could show his face to Peggy’s parents. A nice ‘Father Grey’ or something equally WASP-y as at least a nod to respectability. It was just nerves, and he knew it. Mr. and Mrs. Carter were going to hate him no matter what. On the other hand, they might not need the extra theatre to give him their approval. His new background was more what they would expect for their ‘darling daughter’ than his real one, even if he was still an orphan. Or maybe not. Whether his father had been a doctor or not, he had still stolen Peggy away. And he wasn’t anything as steady as a doctor. He was just a mad man with a camera.

What did it matter if he’d follow her around the world, or if he’d managed to track down a florist who’d been able to help on short notice. Peggy was the most beautiful, intelligent, determined woman he’d ever met. She could have anyone in the world she wanted. Why would she settle for a chump like him?

A chump who was leaving for an indefinite period of time in just a few days. Why would she even want to marry a guy whose whole life plan was to be either unemployed or out of town for months at a time? What if they did this and then she resented it by the time he got back?

What if she’d already figured out what a bad idea this was and wasn’t coming at all?

Bucky smacked Grant’s shoulder and nodded to the taxi that had just pulled up at the base of the stairs. Guy was panicking for no good reason. The girls were here, right on time. As if his little Fox would be anything else for something that was important to one of her guys.

Any thought of worry or imperfection left Grant’s mind as he turned. How could anything go wrong when Peggy was here. Here and absolutely breath-taking. Her cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted in excitement.

“Give me your camera,” Steve prompted. He couldn’t be in the photos, but he could make sure Grant was. He could capture some photos of the happy couple. Maybe not as good as the ones Grant was taking himself these days. But good enough. And maybe he’d sneak one or two of his own people too.

Grant passed him the device without question. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Peggy. And she was here. He took a few hesitant steps down the stairs towards her. Still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream or some sort of cruel joke.

Peggy’s breath caught when she turned away from the cab and spotted Grant. As handsome as ever, looking back at her with the same love and wonder that filled her to overflowing. She felt like she might float away she was so light and in love. He was here, dressed in his best suit, and holding a bouquet. Not a huge spray of frothy flowers, but a neat bouquet of lilies. Just half a dozen perfect blooms tied together with pearl white ribbon. Grant had a small, half-open lily tucked into his buttonhole as well.

Peggy touched a petal delicately. “You got me lilies.”

“You like them? I was worried they weren’t the right kind.” He knew she liked the daylilies that had come up so determinedly in the remnants of the parks near Whitehall. Bright orange flashes against the grey that made it clear that once upon a time, everything there had been lush and beautiful. The ones he’d found this morning were pure white with bright yellow centres. He thought they were pretty. Elegant, like his Pegs.

“They’re beautiful.” Her grandmother had grown white lilies. Beautiful stars that shone in the daylight. When she had been a little girl, her grandmother had promised to have them for her wedding, even if she had to force them in the hot house. Then her beloved grandmother had passed, and Peggy had put that dream from her mind. There had been no question that her aborted wedding with Fred would be decorated with anything but roses. Not her choice, but acceptable. She had never even told the man standing in front of her about her youthful fantasy. But here he was, making her dreams come true without having to have them explained.

They were beautiful? The flowers he was holding had nothing on Peggy herself. With her perfect glossy hair and that amazing smile. She was perfect. Beyond perfect. Her personality and intelligence shining through.

“Remind me to thank Sam for getting you to the altar without a panic attack,” Bucky muttered just loud enough for Steve alone to hear him. He was pretty sure Grant was moments away from hyperventilating.

“Fuck you,” Steve muttered right back. He did have to thank Sam for keeping him calm. But that didn’t mean it was fair to give Grant shit for his nerves. It was hard being in love with amazing people who deserved the world.

“When we get home, baby. When we get home,” Bucky growled. A promise. Because they had made it to the altar. The three of them were tied together for the rest of their lives.

Now they just had to help Grant and Peggy find that security for themselves. “You two want to head inside? Or are you just going to stand there and stare into each other’s eyes?”

Amy nudged Bucky in the ribs. There was no need to be mean. Teasing her sweet Taii along with their friends. The three of them had taken months to work through their nerves about the wedding, and she had still ended up assembling everything her boys could possibly need if they wanted to leave her. To say nothing of Steve and his mid-afternoon shot courtesy of Thor. But they had made it, and so would Peggy and Grant.

Grant cleared his throat. Inside. Right. Inside where there was a clerk who would let him and Peggy sign some forms. Then they’d be married. “We should—”

“Yes.” Peggy rested her hand firmly in the crook of Grant’s arm. Her heart fluttering in her chest like a bird about to break free. “Yes, of course we should.”

Steve snapped a photo of the happy couple as they hurried up the stairs. There weren’t a lot of pictures from his wedding day. Especially considering they lived in a world where everyone and their dog had a camera on them at all times. A handful of candid shots. One staged portrait with Ayame standing between him and Bucky, Sayuri on her hip. Probably an issue they would have to solve when they got home, and the public started clamouring for them. A faked photo shoot with a real photographer, or even an entirely staged wedding. People would expect to be a ‘part’ of Steve’s precious memory. Grant and Peggy would never be expected to share their special day with the world. Not in a big way. They deserved photos just for them.

******

The clerk that called them up to his desk seemed unfazed by their appearance. As if he had troops of lovesick fools traipsing up to his desk all day. Which he probably did. Grant squeezed Peggy’s hand. Lovesick, lovestruck, or just in love, they both wanted this. “Marriage licence, please. And if we could get a judge to do the ceremony after, we’d appreciate it.”

Even that didn’t make the clerk blink. He just set the form and a pen on the counter and began directing them as to how to fill it all in. Reading their answers upside down and transferring them onto the official certificate as fast as they could answer each question. A routine part of his job he probably did twenty times a day.

Routine. The most important moment in Grant’s life, and for the man behind the desk it was just a Tuesday. He’d be upset, except the man was fast and efficient enough that Grant didn’t have to be stressed about waiting. He could just fill in the form and know that sooner rather than later, he and Peggy would be married.

The clerk paused when he got to their surnames. “You’re sure—”

“My family has been out of England for over a hundred years and hers never left,” Grant answered before the man could finish the question. It was one they were prepared for.

Peggy squeezed his arm lovingly. “Just a coincidence that we happened to find each other.”

Her accent seemed to reassure the clerk, and he signed and stamped the final box. “Wait down the hall, the judge will be with you soon.”

It was anticlimactic, waiting on a bench in a marble lined hall. But that was what Grant did. Sitting still and desperately trying not to check his watch in case it made him look like he didn’t want to be here. It didn’t take long before his knee started to bounce with the anxiety of not knowing how long it would be.

Peggy set her hand on Grant’s leg. It was fine. A short delay, not an insurmountable obstacle. She had almost forgotten how antsy a plan being delayed made him. And how adorable that little crease between his eyes was. “Nervous, love?”

Grant covered Peggy’s hand with his. Yes. But not about her. This was crazy and reckless and perfect for them. “Only that someone is going to tell us we can’t.”

“Aims’ll fight ‘em if they try,” Bucky drawled, leaned back on the next bench over with his eyes closed.

Steve chuckled at the mental image. He could just see his girl pulling out her imperious face. None of the civil servants here were even remotely prepared for the full power of Ayame in a mood. They’d break before she even worked up a sweat. Nothing was going to go wrong on their watch.

Finally, the door across the hall clicked, swinging open a fraction. “Carter wedding?”

Grant was on his feet before the door fully opened. Peggy a fraction behind him, her hand tightening on his. “Yes, sir.”

The judge’s office was a small but neatly appointed space. It reminded Peggy of visiting her uncle at the home office before the war, except with that certain Americanism that made her think everything was new rather than handed down over centuries. A heavy oak desk flanked by leather upholstered chairs. The floor softened by a Persian rug, a respectable landscape hanging behind the desk. Everything just a little crisper than she remembered from home.

The judge took a moment to assess them. Looking them up and down. Visibly weighing their preparedness. Evidently, he was satisfied with what he saw, or at the very least, he couldn’t find enough of a fault to deny them.

There was a short lecture on the irrevocability of this decision, but Peggy wasn’t scared. Here, standing next to Grant with her hand in his, she was the least scared she had been in years. It was an impulsive decision to do this today, but the act itself had been a long time coming. Even during the war, he had been clear he wanted to marry her once they were out of the thick of it, and she had wanted to be with him.

Finally, the judge addressed them more directly. “Do you, Grant William Carter, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Grant said, warm contentment filling him. Pure, endless love. Peggy, his wife. The two of them against the world. A true team.

The judge nodded and turned to Peggy. “And do you, Margaret Elizabeth Carter, take this man to be your lawful husband?”

“I do,” Peggy echoed. The words felt like champagne on her tongue. Bright, sparkling, and completely intoxicating. Better than champagne. Her mind was clearer than it ever had been.

Steve looked towards Bucky and Amy. What was it about weddings that made everyone feel romantic? He couldn’t wrap either of them in his arms, hold them close while he whispered promises for their life together. But he could touch his ring and know it was there. Know that all those promises were there. He could meet Amy’s eyes and watch the hint of a blush creep into her cheeks. Watch Bucky notice and slip his own arms playfully around her. He couldn’t wait to get them back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms. One for luggage, one for them to be together.

He snapped another picture of Grant and Peggy since he couldn’t kiss the smirk off Bucky’s face. They really were good together. Balanced. Gazing at each other with eyes full of love.

The direction that he was finally allowed to kiss Peggy came at exactly the right moment for Grant. He wasn’t sure he could have held out a moment longer. He did manage to keep the kiss relatively restrained. But his heart sang at being allowed to wrap her in his arms and press their lips together. She clutched his lapels, holding him just as tightly.

Then all that was left to do was sign the certificate. Steve and Bucky signing below Peggy and Grant as their witnesses. Fake names, and genuine sentiment.

Barely twenty minutes and they were ushered back out into the hall. Rings on their fingers and proof that everything was legal tucked into Grant’s breast pocket. The buzz of people in the outer offices felt muffled. Peggy could barely feel the ground under her feet as Grant led her outside.

Peggy paused at the top of the entrance stairs. The whole world spread out in front of her. The reality of what they had done striking her like a bolt to the heart. She clutched Grant’s hand tighter. Turning to look up at him urgently. “I love you. More than anything, darling. I know there are times when we will be apart. But I don’t care, not as long as you always come home to me in the end.”

Grant cupped her cheek tenderly. It felt like his heart was going to overflow with love. “I will always come home to you.” He touched his lips to hers. Allowed to show just how much he loved her even in public now, as long as he kept it within reason. “Mrs. Carter.”

He was pretty sure he heard a click and saw a flash from the direction of his friends. Photos didn't matter when he was finally allowed to kiss his wife. Nothing mattered compared to her.

*****

Grant beamed at the head on the pillow next to him. All chestnut curls and sleepy blinking eyes. Peggy, half awake, drowsy smile turning up her perfect lips. Relaxed, happy, and his. For the rest of their lives.

He knew she was worried about how much time she spent in the office. Even with how much work she’d been pouring into their relationship, she was still putting in sixty hours a week with the SSR. He knew his girl. He didn’t want her to work less. He just wanted to share in her brilliance. And they’d figure things out for themselves. His career was flexible. Maybe he’d have to travel a lot, but only when and where he wanted. And the rest of the time, he could be with her. Even when she had to travel, he could go with her.

No more of the half assed following he’d been doing on her recent trips. No one would bat an eye at the two of them checking into a nice hotel. Or their waking up like this every morning and having breakfast together before she went off to conquer the world and he went off to explore somewhere new.

Just him and his wife and a long, happy life together. “’Morning, Mrs. Carter.”

“Good morning, Mr. Carter.” Peggy felt warm all over. That smile. She loved waking up to it and now there was no question that it was hers entirely.

Grant rolled over. Pinning Peggy between his elbows and dragging the sheets over their head at the same time. Cocooning them in the perfect moment. “Ready to pack up and get out of here? Still time to catch the early train. We can get you back for your afternoon meetings.”

Peggy drew her leg up between his. Tangling them together. She slipped the fingers of one hand into his soft hair, trailing the other down his glorious chest. Her handsome husband. “I thought we’d take the afternoon train. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“No?” Grant dipped his head. Kissed her cheeks, her ears, her jaw.

Hardly any. As he very well knew. “Some absolute menace kept me up.”

Heat bloomed in Grant’s stomach. She said that like she hadn’t encouraged him at every turn. As if she hadn’t been the one to bury her fingers in his hair and pull him in for the second round. He could still taste her enthusiasm, and he wouldn’t lie to himself, he wanted more. “And you think he’s going to let you sleep in now?”

“I’d be disappointed if he did,” Peggy purred, drawing him back down to him for a proper kiss. Long, slow, and deep. The start of something endless.

Chapter 57: Return to Reality

Peggy was relaxed as she walked into the LA office Tuesday morning. A touch sleep-deprived still, but relaxed. The afternoon train had gotten them into Los Angeles early enough in the day, and there had been absolutely no trouble checking in at their new hotel, not with her new rings glittering on her hand and that hand resting confidently on Grant’s arm. It was just that she’d had another rather sleepless night. No fault of Grant’s. He’d had every intention of letting her sleep. She had been the one unable to keep her hands off her new husband. And he never denied her anything.

A lack of restraint she very nearly regretted upon seeing Daniel and Jack looking harried and more than a little tense as they hunched over the desk. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Jack whipped around. Finally. They were drowning here. LA was supposed to be the easy office. And maybe it would have been, except she had just blown them off at the last minute. “Where have you been?”

“I had a personal matter I needed to take care of.” Peggy set her purse neatly on the sideboard. Not a promising welcome. “I’m here now. What’s happened?”

“The bullpen is threatening to riot.” Daniel knew his team. This wasn’t like them. They were good, level-headed guys. Game for anything. Except this apparently.

“They’re worried we’re changing everything and giving all the good paying field agent jobs to a bunch of dame—” Thompson caught himself. He was frustrated. But that didn’t change that Peggy’s ideas were good. He ran a team that was fifty-fifty out of New York already. It worked better than it had any right to. The idea wasn’t the issue. The reception was the issue. “—women. They are worried they’re going to lose their jobs to all the women we want to bring in. They have a good thing going with Sousa. They don’t want to lose it.”

Peggy did her best to keep any trace of irritation off her face. She couldn’t expect them to read her mind. Of course, neither of them were at their best thrown in without warning. Still, she had expected basic competence. “Did you tell them that those female field agents would be in addition to the existing personnel, not replacing anyone already here and trained? Or that Daniel will be remaining in command of this office?”

“We were focused on the logistics of transitioning the office,” Jack growled. Also known as their job. Why they were on this side of the country instead of back in his office where he could maybe do something if anything went wrong with the thing in the Pine Barrens.

“And you didn’t think ‘we’re not sending in some stranger to teach you how to suck eggs’ was an important logistical aspect?” Peggy asked pointedly. If she’d known she wasn’t going to be available for the first days of meetings she would have brought Dugan along to smooth things over. It might have ended with drinks in the office, but he had an undeniable way of bringing everyone together.

Of course, if she’d known she wouldn’t be available, she would have moved the meetings.

She also might have talked herself out of her impulsive decision. And then she wouldn’t have her beautiful new rings or the promise they represented hanging on a chain around her neck. So maybe it was better that she’d had less notice. Even if it did complicate life in this moment.

She had made her choice, and she didn’t regret it. There was nothing for it now but to push forward. Especially if she wanted to wrap things up in time for dinner. Which she very much did. “Call them all together. We’ll go over it from the start. See if we can’t make them see reason.”

*****

It took time, and quite a bit of smiling through her irritation, but almost all of them did eventually see reason. There were a few that refused. But that had been expected. Daniel had refined his team, but there were still some men who simply couldn’t work for or with women the way Peggy expected them to. Better to get them out of the organization now than to let them sow discord moving forward. And she didn’t mind sending even good agents to other organizations. Not when it meant her remaining staff would have a network of friends and connections to draw on.

It didn’t make it any less frustrating when she had to smile and act like their concerns were at all reasonable. Daniel and Jack had obviously left out a few key details. But it was equally obvious that overall they had done a good job of explaining how things were going to work. The problem was no one seemed to want to listen and understand how those things would make their lives easier and their jobs more effective.

She made it through the day with all the key people she wanted to keep reassured. And the women from the typing pool seemed enthusiastic. She had heard at least two of them discussing whether they should apply to be field agents when they broke for coffee in the afternoon.

By the time she collected her purse, she was confident that everything would go smoothly with the rest of the integration. She was also ready to tear the paint from the walls.

*****

Splurging on the honeymoon suite at a beachfront hotel had been a good idea. If only because Grant could come back from a long hot day taking nature shots on the shore and collapse onto a low couch in front of wide-open windows to enjoy the growing sunset and wait for his wife to get back. An evening breeze moving the warm air. He’d already stripped off shoes and shirtsleeves. Relaxing in stocking feet and undershirt.

He was liking this married thing so far. Not even a shadow of guilt as he sat here waiting for his girl to come home to him. Just a relaxed confidence about the rest of their lives. He could see a lot of that life being spent in hotels, between his work and hers. A lot of it already had been, for that matter. And now he wasn’t going to have to deal with flea-ridden rat holes when he followed her around the country. They could stay together, in nice places; he could rub her shoulders when she got back from meetings. Maybe run a bath in the big clawfoot tub. He thought he’d like watching Peggy bathe.

Finally, the door to the room opened again. Peggy stalked in, shoulders pushed back in determination, neck stiff, steps heavy. Not the happy and victorious looking woman he had expected, but a frowning and irritated creature. The love of his life in one of her displeased moods.

Grant stretched his arms along the back of the couch. He probably shouldn’t find her working face as sexy as he did. But God help him, he did. “How did it go?”

Peggy curled against his side. Tucking herself under his chin and wrapping his arm around her. It had gone as well as it could have, considering. Which meant she was completely exhausted. “I wonder sometimes, if other men think at all.”

Grant cuddled her closer. Something told him it wasn’t strangers or acquaintances that had left her feeling so visibly betrayed. It would take someone she thought of as a friend to grate on her this seriously. “Take it they didn’t ease people into your plans?”

Peggy flopped her head onto his shoulder. No. No they had not. But having laid her ideas out herself, she wasn’t sure they could have done any better than they had. “One would think they aren’t completely revolutionary.”

“You are revolutionary.” Grant nuzzled her jaw until she tipped her head to give him access. “And brilliant.” He kissed her neck, just where he knew she loved. “And beautiful.” He kissed her again, feeling her start to smile through her irritation. “And stubborn.” A third kiss earned him an adorable squirm closer. “And they are only scared because they can’t keep up with your wonderful mind.”

“Flatterer.” Peggy shoved Grant’s knee. He was making it very hard to feel irritable.

Grant stroked her cheek lovingly. For her? Always. He loved the fire that filled her when it came to her job. “You want to order room service and talk it through rather than go out for dinner?”

Peggy deflated on a completely different front. “It’s your last night.” A painful idea on its own, without her ruining their last gasp of romance by co-opting it with her work. “I thought we’d go dancing.”

Grant leaned in and kissed her. A soft press of his lips to hers. “I want to spend it with you. No matter where.”

Peggy melted into him. Her wonderful, supportive husband. “I love you.”

“I know.” He scooped her fully into his lap, leaning back so they could both be comfortable. “Which is why if we stay in, I’m going to make you change into your robe.”

Peggy pouted prettily in mock distress. So, her husband had an angle. She could work with that. A night in really could be as much fun as going out. Maybe more. It was all a matter of flirting with him as thoroughly as she knew she could. “Yours is so much cozier.”

*****

Grant’s train from Los Angeles to San Francisco where his boat was due to leave was early enough that Peggy could see him off at the platform before heading into the office. But it meant a miserably early morning. Rushing around rather than lounging in bed with his naked or half-naked wife the way he wanted to. Even with that rushing, they had barely ten minutes together before his train left. It wasn’t nearly enough time, but it was all they had.

At least for now.

When he got back, they’d have the rest of their lives. At least between trips, hers and his. And even those would be better, knowing that they would be coming home to each other. Grant stroked her cheek. His beautiful and ferocious wife. “We’ll talk about where we’re going to live when I get back.”

“We will,” Peggy promised, running her hands over his lapels. It would almost certainly be his apartment, at least to start. Things would need rearranging to make space for her possessions. It would be wonderful though. Coming home to him each night. It was absolutely ages away, but it was something she could hold onto. “Don’t forget my postcards.”

“I would never,” Grant winked. He had a plan for that. A little something to put a smile on his best girl’s face.

“I love you, Mrs. Carter.” It was something he’d only call her in private. To the rest of the world, Director would be the more impressive honorific. But to him… it still felt amazing that he got to call her his. Really, truly, legally, his.

“I love you, Mr Carter,” Peggy teased back. It felt so like saying goodbye and sending him off to the front. Except this time, she was allowed to touch him. Kiss him goodbye even in public. It wasn’t as dangerous as sending him off then had been. He would come back to her before long.

Grant kissed her softly one more time. “Home before you know it.”

*****

A long goodbye on the platform meant Grant was one of the last ones to board the train. It had been worth it. Every moment with her was worth it.

He slapped Herman on the shoulder and dropped into the seat across from him. Herman had opted to take the train rather than fly across the country. Which worked out, since it meant they could meet part way and hash out details during the last leg to the boat. Probably more time than they really needed, and Grant was sure they’d be sick of each other before they made it back, but it felt like a good idea now.

He didn’t regret this trip. He knew they could do good work. There were stories that needed to be told. Things people here needed to know so they couldn’t be ignored.

And if he could do it without leaving Peggy, he absolutely would.

Grant leaned forward to scan the platform through the window. And found Peggy still waiting. She’d positioned herself a little further back, near one of the pillars where she wouldn’t be in the way. But there she was, searching the windows for him, and when he waved, she lit up like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

She stayed there, not gone yet, until the train pulled away and they couldn’t see each other anymore.

“That your girl?” Herman nodded back towards the disappearing platform.

“My wife.” A grin broke across Grant’s face. God, but it sounded good. Felt good too, with the gold band on his finger to prove it wasn’t just a dream. “Married her three days ago.”

“Congratulations!” Herman reached across the carriage to punch Grant companionably on the shoulder. “Did I miss the two of you getting engaged? I would have sent a gift.”

“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.” For all he and Peggy both loved a solid plan, they were both impulsive when it came right down to it. It was never going to be a long, organized engagement. It was always going to be a rush when she decided she was ready. And she had practically sparkled on the day.

“You get her into trouble?” Herman asked with genuine concern.

“Nah.” Grant waved off the idea. They’d been careful. Even more careful since she’d become Director. No accidents on his watch. “She just got fed up with the hassle of us having to travel separately. She’s away a lot for work.”

“She in the industry?” Herman guessed, gesturing vaguely towards LA. It would make sense, with the travel and with her living in New York. A lot of smaller stars did theatre in the off-season.

Grant shook his head. No. His Pegs was pretty enough to be in the pictures, but too practical. “She’s a career girl. Government work.”

Herman leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of his bench. “She gonna give it up now that she’s a wife?”

No. Grant’s chest filled with pride. She was going to shine bright. “Counting on her to keep a roof over my head when the editor decides I’m too much work to bother paying.”

That made Herman laugh. “You keep taking photos as good as you do and I don’t see that being an issue.”

Grant laughed back. He hoped it wouldn’t be. He had vague plans of buying her a house someday.

Chapter 58: Home Away from Home

Peggy’s arrival back in New York was bittersweet. Her inbox was bound to be absolutely overflowing. The Detroit team was due back, and she wanted to hear how things had gone directly from them. And she had missed her bed.

But she missed Grant more. She missed her husband. She couldn’t help herself stopping every now and then to just think about it. They were married. He was hers, she was his. Bound together for the rest of their lives.

Angie narrowed her eyes as Peggy breezed around the bullpen. Her steps light and almost floating. And she had that look in her eye like she was keeping a secret. The same one she had the week they got kicked out of their boarding house and Peggy had almost been arrested. “You did something.”

Peggy stiffened. “What makes you think—”

Angie planted her fist on one hip. She knew the men in the office still couldn’t recognise Peggy’s guilty face. But Angie lived and worked with her every day. She could smell it when her best friend was up to something. “Margaret Boudica Carter, what did you do?”

Someone had spent her time away talking to Howard, it seemed. “See, this is exactly what I was worried about. It’s catching on.”

“Peggy!” Angie was not playing around. The last time Peggy had gone all secretive like this, she’d turned Angie’s world upside down, and that was before she’d had a hundred agents at her disposal to get into trouble with her. Angie’s job was to know what was going on to stop the office from falling into chaos. Which meant she needed to know what was going on.

“Oh, alright.” Peggy grabbed Angie’s arm and dragged her into her office.

She locked the door and made sure the blind was drawn. Then she drew the long slim chain from under her shirt. Dangling from the chain, the rings sparkled. Throwing off bright flashes even in the dull light of her office.

Angie’s eye went huge. Look at that rock. She wasn’t sure how exactly Grant paid rent with his photography, but she hadn’t expected that from him. “You’re engaged!”

“That seems a little conventional for Grant and I.” Although when she wrote to her parents, Peggy would paint a very pretty picture of him getting down on one knee like a Victorian gallant. They didn’t need to know about their daughter’s impulsive decision or any of the details that had led to it.

“You’re not engaged?” Angie asked, as confused as she was excited. Because that was definitely a ring. A more than three months salary kind of ring. Not that Peggy wasn’t worth it, Angie just had no idea where he had gotten that kind of cash. The guy tipped well, but he had also bitched about how much of a pain it was to get anything published every time his job came up.

“We eloped.” The words sparkled on Peggy’s tongue. As magical now as when she first said ‘I do.’

Angie gaped. Attention snapping from the rings to her friend. “You’re married!?!”

“Shhhhh!” Peggy hushed her adamantly. She didn’t want the bullpen finding out, let alone like this.

“Sorry.” Angie raised her hands placatingly. Peggy had dragged her into the office and shut the door for a reason. She wasn’t wearing the rings on her finger for a reason. Angie just didn’t understand what that reason was. “Why aren’t you telling people?”

“I don’t want people to think I’m an impulsive romantic.” It had been a long and difficult conversation during their train ride back to Los Angeles from Vegas. Peggy had been more than a little anxious about how people would react to her abandoning responsibility for something as frivolous as eloping. It had been Grant who had pulled her in close and suggested that they wait to tell everyone. After all, he was leaving, nothing visible would change about their lives for the time being. He’d stroked her cheek, gazed deep into her eyes, and told her they could keep it to themselves until he got back. Then they could face their friends and her colleagues together and explain everything. She had loved him so much in that moment.

“Even if you are.” Because when Peggy had left a week and a half ago, she had been sad that Grant would be away for a couple of months, but there hadn’t been even a whisper of them taking their relationship further. Both of the rings on her necklace were new. And even if Grant had things planned out enough to be traveling with them, Angie didn’t think he’d meant for them to end up married at the drop of a hat.

Well, yes. It had been her idea to run off into the night rather than let a stranger tell her she wasn’t allowed to be with him. But that was hardly related to her other personal relationships, let alone her professional life. Maybe she was an impulsive romantic for him, but Grant was nothing if not special. “My reasoning around Grant is a little different than my reasoning for the wider world.”

“Because you love him?” Angie said it like it was obvious. Because it was obvious. It had been obvious when they were dancing around each other. It had been even more obvious when they had stopped pretending and actually admitted to being together. And it was obvious now, when Peggy was looking at her rings like they were the most precious things in the world.

“Because I love him more than reason,” Peggy confessed, her hand curling around the bright jewels of her rings, and everything they represented. She had loved him for so long. That lack of reason dated from before he’d gotten the serum. Before he’d transformed into a demigod and gotten swept up by the larger war. Back to when he had been small, handsome in a very different way, underestimated by the world. But so full of determination, intelligence, and that stubborn moral certainty that she adored.

*****

The morning post made Peggy’s heart flutter. There, tucked among the bills and letters from friends, the missive from her mother she would put off answering for as long as possible, was a postcard. The picture, a familiar building. Union Station. The same building they had gone to when she and Grant had decided to run away together. Peggy’s heart fluttered as she turned it over.

There it was. Grant’s familiar hand, and a very deliberately applied upside-down stamp. She rubbed a thumb over the brightly coloured rectangle. Heart full of love even before she turned her attention to the body of the missive.

Peggy,

I’m cheating today. As I write this, you’re still asleep in our bed just a few feet away. I’d barely have to move to have you back in my arms. As soon as I’m done writing this, that’s where I’ll be.

I wanted to get this done though. I’m sure the next batch will be held up by the boat and I wanted something to be waiting for you when you got home. Can’t have you thinking I forgot.

God, I’m not even gone yet and I miss you already.

I love you. I wish I could be there to watch your success. By the time I’m back, you’ll have finished the last offices and be running a complete national organization. I know you’re nervous about it all going to plan, but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that you can handle any curve balls they throw at you. I can’t wait to hear every gory detail when I get back.

I’ve got to go. You’re starting to wake up and I want to run this down to the front desk clerk so I know it will go out today.

I love you so much. I am so glad I get to call you my wife. Home, with you, as soon as I can be.

Yours, now and forever,

Grant Carter

XOXO

Angie leaned over Peggy’s shoulder to read along with her. They were both such saps. They played at being all hard and stoic. But they got all gooey the moment they thought about one another. “Where are you going to live?”

“We haven’t decided. His place, I suspect,” Peggy said absently. She’d seen his last name written down a dozen times. Somehow it meant more now that it was their name. That had been his intention, when he picked it for his new identity. It had seemed sweet then. It was somehow all the more touching now.

Angie watched her normally focused friend fall deeper into romantic distraction. “We’ll have to figure it out. You two are bad enough when you’re trying to hide it.”

“Alright then.” Peggy elbowed Angie lovingly. She couldn’t even pretend she didn’t deserve the teasing. “See if I let you in on any more of my secrets.”

“You will.” Angie squeezed her. It was absolutely adorable how in love she was with Grant. Angie couldn’t wait for him to get back so she could tease him too. “Otherwise you won’t have anyone to complain to when Dugan tells you his plans for Delaware.”

Peggy snapped to attention. She knew there was a mission planned in Delaware. Roxxon was officially headquartered there. She had been the one to express interest in knowing what else they were keeping from the patent office after all the trouble they had caused. But it should be a straightforward infiltration. A little social engineering, a pen camera with microfilm, practically child’s play. There was nothing she could possibly complain about. Was there? “What is Dum Dum planning for Delaware?”

Angie caught sight of the clock. “Sugar. We are going to be so late if we don’t leave right now.”

“Angie!” Peggy called as her friend hurried towards the door. Late was an issue, but not a major one. She was the director, after all. It was far more important that she knew what was going on than that she was precisely punctual. “Angie, what is he planning?”

*****

It took nearly two weeks for her next postcards to arrive. A whole bundle of bright pictures. And far more importantly, beautiful words from her beloved. A record of his entire voyage. Short messages from an uneventful journey. And yet each one made her heart sing.

Each one ending with the same words.

Yours, now and forever,

Grant Carter

XOXO

She felt the kisses in her soul.

Once she was in the office, she took a few minutes to carefully secure the cards to her cork board. Pinning them where she could see them and they would be safe. This first batch were all of California, no doubt picked up while she was working by her loving husband. She adored them all the more for the commitment to keeping his promise they represented.

*****

Her first postcard from Asia arrived a few days later. A busy street scene filled with brightly coloured buildings. Everything slightly alien from what she was accustomed to. The signs written in mysterious symbols she couldn’t begin to guess at. The people on the street dressed in clothes more like Ayame wore than anything Peggy had seen in a shop.

Landed in Hong Kong.

Found a drugstore on the way to the hotel.

Write more once we’re settled.

Love and miss you,

Grant Carter.

XOXOXO

*****

Everyday, Peggy took a moment out of her morning to rotate her postcards. She kept a week’s worth on her corkboard; the rest, she tucked protectively into a small box in the bottom drawer of her desk. Close at hand, but safe from being scattered while she worked. And her favourites — the first one he had sent her, the prettiest, and the most recent — lived pride of place at the top of the corkboard. Where she could turn her head and see them.

Her rings felt light and warm as they rested close to her heart. In the evening, when she slipped them back onto her finger and watched them glitter in the light of her bedroom, they felt even better.

When she closed her eyes, she could imagine Grant curled around her. If she focused, she could just feel the way his ring would bump against hers when their fingers intertwined, the same magical way they had during those first precious nights.

Many nights, she fell asleep with the light still on. A smile on her face and a warm sense of contentment filling her.

*****

“You are not allowed to be bored,” Bucky said without opening his eyes. He was stretched out on the couch, not quite asleep, but not really awake either. More than aware enough to feel his husband in the chair next to him.

“I’m not bored!” Steve shot back. Too fast and too defensive to sound believable.

Bucky cracked open one eye. “We are halfway through a mission to stop the fabric of the universe from unravelling. And you’re bored.”

They were. Steve knew they were. He was deeply, viscerally aware of why they were here. Sitting locked in a suite of three rooms for days on end rather than working on rebuilding their shattered world back home, and looking after their daughter. He also knew the days weren’t ‘real’ exactly. They weren’t missing anything while they were here. Time passed here, but not the way it did outside. Their future waiting for them, perfect and unchanging as they made their way back to it. “I’m not bored.”

Bucky opened both eyes and rolled his head towards his husband. “What you writing, Stevie?”

Steve pulled his notebook closer to him defensively. Okay, so maybe it was work adjacent. But it wasn’t like he was suiting up to storm into the night. “It’s just a list.”

“List of what?” Bucky prompted. Because if it was just a list of restaurants he wanted them to visit, or books he wanted to read, he would have led with that.

It was a list. They’d need lists. There were things they would need to do. The world was going to be in chaos when they got back. There would be millions of refugees. Dozens of people looking to take advantage of the situation. Fires to put out, literal and figurative. They needed to be ready. They’d need plans.

Writing it down meant he was prepared, not that he was bored.

“Aims has been washing her hair for almost two hours.” And yeah, he knew it took a long time to do a full wash and keep her hair that bright pure white that he loved. But if that wasn’t a sign of boredom, what was?

Bucky hauled himself off the couch. He knew she had been. He’d spent the time while Stevie was in the shower tangling his fingers in her hair listening to all the steps required to take care of it, how rarely she got to do them without rushing. He had been the one to encourage her to take the time now, as long as she needed to do whatever she wanted. He could hear her now, humming a soft song as she combed and braided her hair so it could dry slowly. There were about twenty minutes before she finished, and his beautiful girl poured herself into their arms. “Aims is pampering herself. Which she deserves.”

Bucky straddled Steve’s lap. Pinning him in his chair. Combing his fingers through Steve’s hair to push his head back. “You deserve pampering too, Stevie. You gotta learn to relax.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s list suddenly felt less important.

“Put the notebook down, Stevie.” It wasn’t an order exactly. Bucky would call it a direction. A suggestion, paired with a playful growl to demonstrate his intent.

“I’m putting it down, I’m putting it down,” Steve laughed. Dropping his book to the side and wrapping his arms around Bucky. His husband was right. They had said they would use this downtime to recuperate and reinforce their relationship. His list could wait.

It would be better and more comprehensive with Ayame reading over his shoulder anyway. Or better yet, curled naked in his lap with her head tucked against his neck. That was how he did his best brainstorming.

*****

Peggy knew she shouldn’t be working late as often as she had lately. She should at least occasionally go home in time for dinner. But with Angie at the theatre this week, she didn’t have much reason to leave.

Her postcards were here. They kept her company. Under her shirt, her rings hung heavy on their chain. Warm and weighty. Keeping her firmly grounded. Tangible proof of Grant’s promise to love her forever.

When he got back, she’d have a reason not to work until nine every night. Until then, she would stay here and distracted.

She didn’t bother to look up when someone knocked on her doorframe. People had been knocking all day. And she had answered all of them the same way. “I don’t know when the team is due back. You’ll have to ask Thompson.”

“I was more interested in when you last ate,” a low, warm voice replied.

Peggy’s breath stilled in her chest. She knew that voice. She heard it in her dreams. But it couldn’t be — Her eyes snapped up.

It was. Thick beard, bright eyes, rugged travel clothes, that clever grin she had missed so much. Her wonderful, handsome husband. Here.

Either that or she had fallen asleep at her desk and had dreamed him back to her.

She didn’t think this was a fantasy though. Not when she was due to wash her hair, her underwear didn’t match, and she’d had tuna salad for her absent-minded dinner a few hours ago. His travel-tousled hair was out of those dreams though. Begging for her to finger comb it back to order, or mess it up further while welcoming him home.

“You didn’t say you were on your way.” But she was so overwhelmingly pleased that he was. Her whole world felt lighter. There was so much she wanted to talk to him about. So much to share. So many questions to ask about his travels.

“Couldn’t stay away any longer.” Grant spread his hands and shrugged. He hadn’t warned her. Maybe he should have mentioned it in one of the last postcards he had sent. But he’d wanted to see the surprise and delight on her face. “So what do you say, doll? Can I buy you dinner?”

Peggy hurried to get her bag and coat. Completely unable to stop herself beaming as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. All thoughts of work forgotten.

Once they were out of the building, Grant wrapped an arm around Peggy’s waist. Sweeping her in against him. Pinning her against his chest and finally pressing his mouth to hers. The kiss like air finally entering his lungs after so long. “I missed you, Mrs. Carter.”

“I missed you so much, my darling,” Peggy whispered back, clinging to his coat.

*****

Refusing to let go of Grant’s hand complicated eating, but he didn’t seem to mind, and Peggy wasn’t about to let him go. He even lifted her fingers to his lips while they were waiting for their entrees. Gazing deep into her eyes as he reiterated how much he’d missed her. She’d missed him too. There wasn’t enough time to ask all the questions she had for him. But there was enough time to start. To query him about how his voyage had been. Ask where all he had gone. Time for her to listen to the wonderful soft voice she had longed for. So full of passion and excitement.

By the end of the meal, she was reasonably certain their waitress was laughing about them with the other staff. Peggy could hardly blame them. She must look like the most doe-eyed and devoted creature there was. And in many ways, she was. Maybe she’d never be a sweet, simpering housewife. But that wasn’t what he was looking for anyway. And she could adore him in her own way. And be adored in turn. He couldn’t ask questions about her job while they were in public, but he did ask about her life. And scold her lovingly when she admitted just how much time she was spending in the office.

The waitress winked at her when she set down the check. It made Peggy blush, even if Grant didn’t notice as he fished bills out of his wallet. He took her hand again as they left the restaurant, and Peggy melted against his side.

Grant twirled her playfully as they made their way down the sidewalk. It was a school night, so taking her dancing would probably have to wait until the weekend. But even just dinner made him feel like this was where he belonged. “Can I walk you home?”

“You can take me home,” Peggy countered. Home to their marital bed. The apartment she’d never have to leave again. They could live together. Stay together. Be together in every way.

Grant’s eyes lit up. Delight pouring through him. He could take her home. Not just back to his place. Not just to bed. He could take her home without any subterfuge or question. They had said they would talk about where they were going to live when he got back. Now he was back. And they might not know where they lived. But it was going to be together.

He slipped a finger under the chain around her neck. Pulling her rings free of her blouse and unclasping the chain. Peggy let out a contented sigh as he slipped them back onto her finger. “I love you, Mrs. Carter.”

*****

Grant Carter was in the conference room. Standing by the sideboard, unloading what looked like a bakery box. Of all Jack’s headaches, this seemed to be the one that reoccurred the most often. How were they supposed to maintain standards if Peggy acted like she was above the rules? Okay, singular rule. And she only bent it for the one person. But still. If he had a nickel for every time he found Grant Carter sitting around the conference room or Peggy’s office, he’d be able to take the office out for lunch on Fridays. “He doesn’t have clearance, he shouldn’t be up here.”

Peggy frowned down at the reports spread over her desk. Not put out by Grant’s presence the way she was by the findings of the Arizona team. He didn’t have clearance. But she didn’t see Rose enforcing that any time soon. He had come back with her after their weekly lunch for a specific reason and with an invitation. “I have an announcement I want him here for.”

“Announcement?” Jack didn’t have anything in his notes for the week. Unless he’d missed something? Maybe he needed a secretary like Peggy. If he could find anyone even close to Angie. She was a force of nature, and he honestly didn’t know how they’d managed without her and Rose.

“Nothing operational. Just information,” Peggy assured him without looking up from the report. Important information, but not strictly speaking, relevant to their work.

“What kind of information?” Jack asked intently. Grant had been in with them on the Zero Matter thing. If that was popping back up, Jack wanted a heads up. He also wanted to find something very different and possibly far away to keep Frost occupied. She’d been good for months, but that felt like too much temptation.

“Nothing to worry about.” It was good news. At least Peggy thought it was. She was ecstatic about it. “But if you could get all the senior agents into the conference room, I would appreciate it. Rose and the R&D team too.”

“Carter.” Jack looked at Peggy intently. The senior agents were one thing. That basically just meant the Howling Commandos and a handful of trusted agents. Rose and the science team meant it was serious enough that it had to affect the entire agency.

Peggy met his gaze. Finally, actually setting down the page she was holding. “Jack, I promise if I thought it would affect your teams, I would discuss it with you first.”

“Are you pregnant?” Because Jack liked his current job. He didn't want to end up doing Peggy’s for an indefinite period of time while they looked for a replacement. Or worse, getting stuck with it forever.

“Of course not.” They had been very careful. Hard as it was. The next time they came over, Peggy really had to ask Ayame how she managed because they simply couldn’t keep up with the expense of condoms at this rate.

Jack just about sagged with relief. “I’ll get everyone. But you should know by now, I hate secrets.”

*****

Peggy had another twenty minutes to get her papers sorted before someone else interrupted her. A much more welcome figure with bright eyes that smouldered just for her. “Darling.”

“Ready?” Grant asked. Taking in the sight of her standing over her desk with more than a little pride.

“For you?” Peggy looked up at him through her lashes. “Always.”

Grant slipped the rings out of his pocket and onto Peggy’s finger. Back where they belonged, where he loved to see them every evening they were together. Where they could stay from now on. “Let’s shake the world, doll.”

Peggy didn’t take his hand as they left her office. But she let her shoulder bump against his arm as they walked. Let the comfort of having him close fill her with love and confidence.

Grant stepped away from her as they entered the room. Not far away. He wanted to stay close. Now and for the rest of his life. And leaning against the wall behind her gave him such a good view to watch her work. And he loved watching her work. The way she commanded the space. The deference everyone in the room showed her as they streamed in. He smiled at his friends when the Commandos joined them. This was going to be good.

Angie leaned in close on her way to her seat. A giggle waiting on her lips. “Are you finally going to let me off the hook on pretending we’re coming from the same place in the morning?”

“See if I let you in on any more of my secrets,” Peggy scolded. It had been a small ruse. And given that Peggy had woken up early to ensure that Angie had breakfast to make up for it, at great personal loss given that it meant tearing herself away from a warm bed with Grant in it, Peggy hardly felt bad about the subterfuge.

Grant winked at Angie. Thank God Peggy had figured out she needed someone to do the job she used to do for him. The girl was a miracle worker. Smart as a whip, filled with a joyful light that radiated through the office, and not afraid to tell anyone in the office exactly where to go if they needed telling.

Jack was the last person to take his place. First chair on the left, right by the head of the table. His arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at Peggy. He still didn’t like the way Peggy bent the rules for some random guy. Even if the Howlies were fans.

Peggy stood up tall and straight. Prim perfect posture. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you all here today.”

“More curious about if that cake is for us?” Dum Dum called from his side of the table. The love birds were up to something, he wasn’t overly worried about what. Not when they had been happier than ever since Grant had gotten back from his last trip.

“Listen and you’ll see,” Rose scolded pinching his ear. No manners to speak of.

Really, there was no point in drawing it out. It was a simple statement, not a complicated explanation. Peggy glanced at Grant, who nodded once. They were committed, now and forever.

“Grant and I are married.” Peggy reached back and felt Grant’s hand slide into hers instantly. Love flooded through her. Married. Now and forever. Confirming there was no going back. They were in this now and forever.

A dull buzz started in Jack’s ears. Realization growing. Two of the worst days he’d spent in this job starting to make sense. “Is that why you missed two days in California?”

Peggy blushed slightly. She wasn’t entirely proud of her impulsive decision. Even if she was very pleased with the results. It had been rash, and rushed, and perfect for their mad love story, but she couldn’t think of it as responsible. “That was when it happened, yes.”

"Sorry about that.” Grant lifted Peggy’s hand to his lips. Kissing just next to those shining rings. “We ran into some issues getting it done before I left.”

“Are you going to leave?” One of the team leads called from the back of the room. One of Jack’s hires who was coming up fast. A nervous question, laced with anxieties about leadership if she departed. No doubt because the best agent he ran was Marrina Park. A brilliant agent who brought up the calibre of the whole squad and was indispensable when it came to infiltration.

“Of bloody course not,” Peggy spat, affronted. Not after everything she’d gone through to get the damned job. “You will be stuck with me for a very long time.”

“And she’ll be just as much of a hard ass as always,” Happy said with proud certainty.

“Nothing is going to change,” Grant agreed. He’d known the old team would understand, and if they did, everyone else would follow them.

“When's the party?” Gabe called unabashedly. Dum Dum and Jim adding their own cheers of support. More than pleased for their friends.

“Are you ever not going to be on my tab?” Grant grinned and threw his hands wide. That was why he loved these assholes. No sense of reverence.

*****

Grant lay back on the bed, his hands behind his head as he watched Peggy massage lotion into her hands and arms as she sat next to him in bed. The wonderful, beautiful woman he was married to. The woman he got to tell the world was his wife now. Dum Dum was right. They should have a party for their friends. A night to share their love with everyone. “Maybe we should offset the reception by two years. Same as your birthday.”

Peggy rolled onto her knees. Smacking him with her pillow for his teasing, even as a smile made her cheeks hurt. “Rude man.”

Grant caught her around the waist and pulled her in, negating her attack and turning her struggling to snuggling. “For wanting to celebrate our story with our friends?”

Peggy sighed, sagging into his hold. It would be nice. If only it were that easy. “Before we pick a date, I should probably figure out what I’m going to tell my mother.”

“She’ll be thrilled.” Grant had read enough letters over Peggy’s shoulder to know that her mother’s greatest fear was Peggy turning into a spinster and dying unmarried.

“She’ll be horrified.” Peggy had dashed her hopes of a nice society wedding and married an American. Not even the American who had seduced her away from rationality during the war. Peggy’s mother had never really understood the timeline of her service after she had called off her previous engagement. A different, even less respectable American with no connections or future as far as her social climbing mother was concerned. She’d never understand Grant’s beautiful art, or Peggy’s career.

“She’ll be in Suffolk.” And they never had to go to England again if that was what Peggy wanted. They had all the family they could want in their friends. Their life was here in the States.

Peggy bit her lip. She was at the moment, but that was before she knew her last surviving child and only daughter had run off and married a vagabond artist. “What if she comes here?”

“We’ll get her a hotel and I’ll show her around,” Grant soothed. He knew that Peggy’s relationship with her mother was tense.

Peggy stroked her fingers down his chest. Her brave hero and protector. Always willing to take the fire meant for her. “I’d hate to subject you to that.”

Grant slipped his fingers into her soft curls. His beautiful, brave wife. So much more than anyone saw, or even imagined. “I’d walk through fire for you.”

“You might have to.” Peggy wouldn’t at all put razing a city to the ground past her mother in a snit.

Grant slid his hand down Peggy’s body. Holding her tight against his body. “Let’s stop talking about your mother.”

“Yes.” Peggy nestled even closer to him. Handsome husband who adored her as she adored him. “Let’s.”

*****

Ayame draped herself more firmly across Steve’s chest. Relaxed and happy the way she always was in bed with her husbands. Or on the couch, in this case. They hadn’t quite made it to the bedroom. She blamed the boys. She had been minding her own business, washing her hair, and gotten pulled into an amorous embrace as soon as she’d stepped outside. “How is your list going?”

Steve sighed and fished his abandoned notebook off the floor. Holding it open where they could both see it. He’d hoped she’d ask at some point. “Coming along. Not sure how Dobbert is going to bounce.”

Amy scanned the page. Nodding along with all his points so far. Dobbert had been a thorn in Steve’s side since he’d become a senator. But he was only a problem as long as he was a senator. “You don’t think they’ll lead with another election?”

No. But Steve was going to push for a repeat of the same sort of process they’d used last time, which meant elections as soon as possible. And his opinion held some weight. “I think he’ll hold onto power with his teeth if he has to.”

“Neither of you can relax for shit,” Bucky grumbled. Kissing the back of Amy’s neck and running a hand through Steve’s hair. He loved them though. His crazy, stubborn people who couldn’t take their eyes off the prize for more than a second. “You want a sandwich?”

“Love one.” Steve was starving. A good roast beef sandwich with mustard and crisp lettuce would hit the spot while they worked on their brainstorming.

All their jumping around had left Ayame’s appetite in shambles. Like jet lag, only worse. She might eat something later, but just now, she didn’t want food precisely. “Could I have tea?”

“Anything for you, baby girl.” Bucky winked and blew her a kiss. Maybe neither of them could unwind enough to actually do nothing, but that just meant he’d have to look after them.

Chapter 59: Moments and Milestones

The thing about finally, actually having the love of his life living in his space, was Grant needed to find ways to make it her space too. Some things had been obvious. Making space for her dressing table in the bedroom, clearing out most of the closet since her dresses needed to hang and he could always iron the fold marks out of a shirt, get new towels so she wasn’t stuck using his ratty ones.

Other little details were harder. Neither of them actually liked the throw that Peggy’s mother had knit for her for Christmas last year. It was scratchy, and ‘the most unpleasant shade of puce,’ as Peggy put it. Not what they wanted on their couch, even if the radiator wasn’t always the best. Peggy had gifted a lot of her furnishings to Angie when she had moved out. Her bedspread had only ever been large enough for a single bed. The few photos she had decorated her dressing table, leaving the main room almost entirely his personality.

At least for now. He was working on it. Adding little things he thought she’d like. A painting by an artist Steve had recommended. A new throw that matched her taste better. A second blanket for the bed in a soft cream that he knew she’d like.

And today. A colourized copy of their wedding photo. The perfect one that Steve had taken of the two of them on the courthouse steps. Peggy looking amazing in her beautiful dress. Him looking at her. That wonderful moment captured for eternity. Getting it to hang nicely on the little section of wall by the bedroom door hadn’t been easy, it felt like it had taken him nearly a year to get it coloured and framed, but it looked pretty straight.

And emerging from the door just next to the portrait, the woman herself. His beautiful, wonderful wife. Wearing that same dress. A perfect vision.

“What do you think?” He asked, using the hammer he was still holding to indicate the painting.

Peggy frowned at his rolled shirt sleeves and chemical splattered pants. The clothes he wore for housework and film developing. She had thought his suit was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. That he’d been letting her have the space in the bedroom to make things easy. “I think you’re not dressed.”

Grant winced. He was a little behind schedule. Maybe he’d been avoiding looking at the clock. He never liked these big to-dos. “I wanted to get this hung.”

Peggy’s heart melted a little at the photo. Well, she could hardly fault him for that. It was a terribly handsome picture of them. Even if it could have lived leaning against the wall until they weren’t due at dinner with the Mayor. “It’s lovely. But we are going to be late.”

“You think?” Grant slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. He loved her when she was all dressed up like this. So proper and elegant. It was almost as good as when she was freshly back from the field. All rough and tumble with her cheeks flushed. Really, he loved her all the time. All the different shades and aspects that made up this amazing woman. “Well, if we’re going to be late anyway, we might as well be really late.” He kissed the hinge of her jaw, nibbled at her neck, nuzzled against her playfully. Lost himself in that lily-of-the-valley perfume.

“None of that. We have to leave.” Peggy laughed and arched over his arm. Half pushing his head away, half clinging to his hair. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the thought. But they had to be responsible at least some of the time.

“When we get back…” Grant let the threat trail off meaningfully. She knew what he meant. It was 50/50 whether they would be too exhausted to actually do anything about it. But they would fall asleep wrapped in each other and that was more than enough.

“We have to leave in order to get back,” Peggy teased. Tapping him lightly on the nose with one finger. Impossible man.

“Five minutes, doll.” Grant kissed her softly. Careful not to mess up her perfect lipstick. She was right. And he’d brave the lions for her. “Five minutes and we’re out the door.”

He headed straight for the bathroom, peeling off his shirt as he went. He could change fast. They’d be on time.

Peggy tutted affectionately at his back. She loved that man. As silly and stubborn as he was. Because he was as silly and stubborn as he was.

She waited until the door closed before she turned back to the picture. It really was a lovely photo. An encapsulation of that perfect, hectic, irrational day. She had thought she had been impossibly in love when they had hurried up those stairs. Somehow, she was even more in love with him today, and she thought she might even find a way to love him more tomorrow.

Finally, the bathroom door reopened. Grant bursting back into the living room full of vigour. Because while he didn’t care for parties, he did love her and was proud of everything she was accomplishing.

“That’s six,” Peggy chastised playfully. Showing him the face of her delicate watch.

Grant wrapped his arm around her again. Swirling her in a half circle. Good thing they had the company car instead of needing a taxi. “I’ll drive fast. Make it up.”

*****

This was a good day in Peggy’s books. A very good and productive day. Big things were happening for S.H.I.E.L.D. Grand things, that meant her beloved agency was on the rise. Four years and they were only on the rise. Definitively and determinedly on the rise.

Monty tapped lightly on the doorframe. Leaning into her office with a smile. “Am I too early?”

“Not at all.” Peggy gestured towards the chair opposite her desk. Grand things indeed. “I wanted to speak with you today because it feels like you’re slowing down in the field.”

Monty nodded. He’d been expecting something like this. “We’ve had a rough month. And I’ll admit the cold is harder on my knees than it once was.”

“I wonder if you wouldn’t prefer something more sedate. A desk job.” She had already convinced Dum Dum to take over survival training for the new recruits, and darling Happy was doing a brilliant job with the Louisiana office, despite early objections.

That was exactly what he’d been afraid of. He knew he wasn’t quite the young buck he’d once been. But he wasn’t completely washed up. “Is this about the Amsterdam file?”

Peggy pushed on without addressing that. This had absolutely nothing to do with a single hiccup in a complicated mission. “We’re opening a new office. A joint project with MI6. In London. I want you to head it.”

London — Monty’s heart leapt to the one thing that city meant. Jack. His Jack. They could be in the same city. And not just for a night or two.

Peggy smiled at him. There it was. “Did you know that Jack and I write? Not often. But I can tell he misses you.”

Missing hardly began to cover it. Monty missed Jack like he would miss a limb. Like he would miss his heart if it were torn from his body. And moving home to London would hardly solve the problem. “He hasn’t been there either.”

Reaching across the desk, Peggy squeezed his hand. She knew. The two of them had been all over the world for want of coming home to each other. “He hasn’t been there because you haven’t been there. It is time to go home, Monty.”

“And leave you to look after all this trouble?” Monty nodded back towards the bullpen and the rest of their remaining team. Fewer of them now, but they had been through so much together.

“I will be pawning them off on you regularly, I assure you.” In fact, she rather thought Pinky would want to go with him. There had been a rather lovely nurse there during the war, and she knew they had kept up correspondence. It would be good for him. And Monty could use a deputy chief as talented as her deputy director.

*****

Jack Churchill clutched the receiver to his ear. All he could hear was static. The operator had told him that it was a trunk call from New York, but not much more. Still, it was just barely ten in the evening here, Jack hadn’t even started thinking about bed yet, which meant whoever was calling had only just gotten off work and hurried to call or was still at the office. Either way, there were only a few people it could be. And only one he wanted it to be. “Monty? Is that you? This line is shit.”

“It’s me. I’m here,” Monty’s voice answered down the line. Garbled, crackly, and the sweetest thing Jack had heard in ages. “I’m coming home. Jack, I’m coming to London.”

“Here? For how long?” Jack was in the city for at least a couple of weeks, and he was sure he could manoeuvre things, so they overlapped at least a little. He’d make sure they did. Move heaven and earth if he had to. These last years since the war, he felt like he’d been missing half his soul with Monty so far away.

“Forever. I’m moving back.” Monty didn’t add the ‘love’ to the end of the sentence, but Jack heard it. Even down the crackly line from the other side of the ocean, he heard the affection. Oh but he wished the syllable could be said aloud. It couldn’t be. There was every possibility that one or more of the operators who had connected the trunk call were still on the line. To say nothing of the secretaries in Monty’s office who almost certainly had unfettered access to everything but the secure line in Carter’s personal office.

“Monty.” Jack was dreaming. He was sure of it. Oh, but he didn’t want to wake up.

“I thought it might make sense to see if we couldn’t find a two-bedroom flat,” Monty said with the same breathless wonder Jack could feel in his own chest. “Share since we’ll both be busy and things are still so tight.”

“I’ll ask around.” By which he meant he would walk through fire to find somewhere they could be together. A cozy little flat for them. Somewhere with the light his wartime flat had never had. Somewhere Monty could lounge in his armchair and read the paper. “When?”

“End of the month. I’ll be home soon,” Monty assured him. Home. With him. And with no end date on at least one side.

No. Both sides. Jack would talk to his commanding officer. Find himself a training post that would keep him in the city. His love was coming home. It was time to stop wandering and let themselves be together. “I’ll find somewhere.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 16 of Domesticated Foxes