gunpowders & snowstorms

by prodby_error

Summary:

"Angie, are you alright?" Peggy listened for any potential threats as she waited for her response. Eerily enough, there seemed to be no one in the house except for them two. If there was anyone else with them right now, they were certainly skilled enough to be undetectable.

"I’m okay!" The pitch of Angie’s voice was all over the place. "Where are you? Come—"

"—’m right here." She immediately surveyed the space before she even stepped onto the doorway. Much to her confusion, the only thing out of place was the shards of glass on the floor and the woven basket on the table. "What happened?"

Angie’s frantic eyes darted back to the basket before meeting hers. Without removing her hand over her heart, she responded, "Some heartless idiot left a babe at the door."

Chapter 1: shell i

Notes:

i feel like imma regret posting this this early in the production (i literally just finished this chapter yesterday). but, oh well, i let my impulsiveness win. please enjoy! :]

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter has filled a lot of shoes.

In her military career alone, she has served various divisions: Special Air Service, Special Operations Executive, MI5, Strategic Scientific Reserve.

Her civilian life was similar, with all the roles she had to play: daughter, sister, friend, fiancée, lover, partner, roommate.

She suspected those weren’t going to be the only ones she’d hold in her lifetime; but, for now, those were more than enough.

A shattering of glass suddenly rang out from the kitchen, followed by a scream. "Pe— Peggy!" It was her housemate, Angela ‘Angie’ Martinelli, who usually called her by a different nickname. "Oh, my God, Peggy! Get in here this instant!"

Peggy tried to narrow down what could be waiting for her in the kitchen.

As far as she was aware, Angie had literally just came back from an audition on another part of town. She knew, no matter how tired she was, that she wouldn’t freak out like that if she only broke a glass. Thus, there must’ve been a — better — reason for the commotion in the kitchen. She just couldn’t imagine what.

Peggy settled on grabbing a gun and a first aid kit on her way.

"Angie, are you alright?" She listened for any potential threats as she waited for her response. Eerily enough, there seemed to be no one in the house except for them two. If there was anyone else with them right now, they were certainly skilled enough to be undetectable.

"I’m okay!" The pitch of Angie’s voice was all over the place. "Where are you? Come—"

"—’m right here." She immediately surveyed the space before she even stepped onto the doorway. Much to her confusion, the only thing out of place was the shards of glass on the floor and the woven basket on the table. "What happened?"

Angie’s frantic eyes darted back to the basket before meeting hers. Without removing her hand over her heart, she responded, "Some heartless idiot left a babe at the door."

Peggy Carter had to admit: she wasn’t sure what she expected that prompted her housemate to shatter a glass and scream. What she did know, though, was that it certainly wasn’t what it turned out to be. "What?"

"There’s a baby in the basket," her housemate repeated for her breathlessly. She watched her grip the table for support as everything seemed to sink in. "Oh, God. There’s a baby in the basket. I think— I think I need to sit down."

"Any chance it’s a doll?"

"Can’t be," her friend sounded absolute. "She looks very humane."

She wasn’t easily convinced, but didn’t push it. Instead of commenting, she opted to place the first aid kit and her gun on the table. However, before she could step away, she thought better about having a gun lying around in a — allegedly human — baby’s presence.

Peggy consciously tucked her gun in her leg holster before procuring a broom and a dustpan. "Is it alive?" She inquired casually as she swept up the glass shards off the floor.

"She," Angie made a point to emphasize, "made a sound when I dropped the glass, but stayed asleep. Thankfully."

"Quite strange she didn’t wake," she commented after disposing the shards. "I could hear you very clearly from my room."

"Thank God for that." Her friend put her head on her hands, "I’m not ready to calm a crying baby." After a moment, and a rugged sigh, she looked back up at her, "How are you so calm?"

Peggy shrugged after placing a cup of water next to her. "I think you’ve freaked out enough for the both of us."

It was only then did she take a moment to peek inside the basket. Much to her surprise, Angie had been right about the baby looking very humane. And the gender, too, if her red dress was anything to go by.

She could see the rhythmic rise and fall of her little chest just fine. Yet, she still chose to time her respiratory rate. And feel her radial pulse, just in case.

As she took in the baby’s physical features, Peggy couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen her before. Unfortunately, try as she might, she simply couldn’t put her finger on where.

Peggy Carter almost wished she didn’t have to do this, but it wasn’t like she had much choice. "We need to call Howard."

❅❅❅

Peggy backtracked almost as soon as she suggested that they need to alert Howard Stark. She belatedly realized that it was probably best if they check for any identification first before getting anyone else involved. So that was what they did.

Angie cradled the baby while she searched inside the basket she came in. "She must be so sleepy," her friend cooed at the child’s sleeping form on her arms.

"Or they must’ve drugged her milk," she offhandedly commented as she continued her thorough search. Unfortunately, all she found was two blankets — one assembled as the child’s makeshift bed and the other as her protection. There was no note, no tag, no nothing.

"Surely they didn’t—"

"They dropped her off our door without ringing the doorbell," she pointed out. "And, by the looks of it, without anything that could tie her back to them, either."

"I’m sure they must’ve a reason," Angie argued. "Maybe they thought it’d be better for her."

Peggy considered that. As much as she perceived their actions as cruel, they did leave the baby outside one of the nicest houses on the street. They put her in a secured basket with blankets to keep her comfortable. She looked healthy and generally well-taken care of, too.

"Perhaps." Maybe, like Angie reasoned, whoever left her thought she was better without them.

(Whether Peggy personally agree to that or not was still up for debate.)

❅❅❅

Howard Stark and Edwin Jarvis eventually arrived after Peggy’s insistent — borderline threatening — call.

The woven basket was placed at the center of the kitchen table, the still-sleeping baby back inside. All four adults gathered around, all with a good view of the child.

"She looks nothing like me," Howard started while hovering over the child’s sleeping form. Peggy had just finished sharing her theory, "how can you even think I’m her father?"

"She was left outside your property, Howard," Peggy defended her theory. "The very same property you used to bring guests over."

As a belated token of appreciation — and apology — for clearing his name, Howard offered one of his east coast properties for Peggy to stay in. She was understandably reluctant at first, but eventually changed her mind after considering what happened to her previous apartments. Due to the size of the house, she took the liberty to ask Angie if she was interested in being housemates.

Truthfully, her initial thought was that the baby was purposely left for Howard. Although it might be highly debatable whether people knew who owned the property, it made sense if the deliverer did — especially if they had been inside before.

More specifically, she thought that there were two possible reasons why the baby was deliberately delivered for Howard: One, the deliverer knew how wealthy the house owner was and how capable he would be in raising a child — even if she was not his own. Two, the deliverer knew the same things, but he actually helped bring her into this world.

"She could have also just inherited everything from her mother, Mr. Stark, sir," Angie reminded him. Her eyes naturally gravitated toward the baby’s sleeping form once Howard was no longer blocking her view. "Does she look a little bit familiar to you, at least?"

Howard’s reply came rather impulsively and without the need for a much deeper thinking, "No, not at all."

With that, they officially had no leads in the baby’s identity. Which meant the only possible explanation for her presence was the most tragic of them all: she was deliberately left with strangers — just because they appeared wealthy.

Peggy followed Angie’s lead once the realization set in, as did the two gentlemen.

Frankly, she couldn’t fathom why the baby was left outside a house rather than an establishment already equipped to take her in. Like a police station or a fire station or an orphanage. She’d understand if the house happened to be her father’s, but—

"She quite resembles Ms. Carter from my view," Mr. Jarvis voiced out his input, effectively breaking her out of her thoughts and catching everyone’s attention.

However stunned she was by the suggestion, she still managed to react in an instant. "Don’t be silly."

Unfortunately for her, Angie soon exclaimed in agreement, "Look carefully, English."

"She can’t be my daughter," Peggy dismissed their claim without even considering it. "I would’ve known before you lot otherwise."

Just then, as if she knew she was being talked about, the baby in the basket made a sound as she stretched her arms. All four adults froze in place and unconsciously held their breath, not expecting her to wake up anytime soon. At least one of them, if not all, was willing the little human to not actually wake right there and then.

Alas, regardless of their personal preferences, her eyes finally fluttered open.

And, almost instantaneously, Peggy had to stifle a gasp when her dark eyes met a pair of familiar, sparkling blue ones.

Steve.

Notes:

this is a rewrite of my old tumblr fic. i haven't planned out what new scenes i wanna add in this ver, so feel free to give me suggestions! :]

Chapter 2: shell ii

Notes:

can't believe i finish this chapter faster than anticipated. woah. please enjoy! ^^

Peggy couldn’t remember how it came down to it, but her and Angie ended up taking care of the baby for the time being. The exact length was unknown: all they both knew was the set up was supposed to last until they find a suitable couple or orphanage to take her in.

Due to the uncertainty of her temporary stay, the house adjusted accordingly. In no time, most areas had been babyproofed. A crib and a high chair had been built, courtesy of Howard and Mr. Jarvis. (Howard wasn’t entirely happy that he didn’t get to design them meticulously, so he promised to bring upgrades next time.)

They also went for a quick shopping trip, as the house was bare of any baby essentials. There were bottles, milk, pacifiers, diapers. Also clothes, accessories, toys, and whatever else they spotted and thought she might need. It was a curious thing they still managed to fit in the car with the amount of — probably unnecessary — stuff they purchased.

The first night with the baby was different, to say the least. No one knew how long she had been asleep, but it must’ve been long enough for her to refuse to close her eyes at a reasonable time.

"Why are you so cute?" Angie, despite being beyond exhausted from her audition, was still taking turns with her in tiring the babe out.

The baby gurgled happily at the compliment.

"She’ll be a lot cuter if she sleeps soon." Peggy then opened her arms, ready to take her turn, "Give the baby here. Let’s see if she knocks out this time."

Her housemate obliged and even passed the toy she was entertaining the child with. "Should we give her a temporary name?" She heard her wonder out loud while she carefully positioned the baby in her arms. "That way we don’t always refer to her as ‘the baby.’"

Peggy took a moment to weigh in her opinion. Not because she was pondering her friend’s suggestion through, but because she was distracted by the innocent eyes staring up at her.

"No— No, I don’t think we should," she eventually responded, albeit still obviously distracted. She had to will herself to look away from the baby to be able to continue, "We mustn’t get attached."

Angie raised an eyebrow at that, with a matching hum. Peggy didn’t think anything of the reaction she received and just let her eyes gravitate toward the baby once more. However, she did mutter unconsciously, "Perhaps a nickname wouldn’t hurt."

She later tried to take it back, having thought better of it. Unfortunately, her friend didn’t let her — as she was already halfway through figuring out what nickname suited the baby best.

In the end, Angie settled to reserve ‘buttercup’ for their new housemate.

❅❅❅

The first week with the baby was filled with new adventures. Trial and error was abundant, especially on how they were supposed to do things and what worked best.

Angie had taken the liberty to ask people she met — in auditions and otherwise — advice on childcare. Ana, Mr. Jarvis’ wife, also did the same and relied any information she gathered whenever she dropped by or phoned.

Peggy didn’t have the same liberty, given her male-dominated line of work, so she resorted to assisting Howard and Mr. Jarvis in finding the best people to care for the baby permanently. (She absolutely had no faith that her married coworkers were actively participating in raising their respective children.)

"Not them," Peggy disproved of the new couple Howard suggested. "They seem like they’re just a month away from divorce."

"And?" Howard was failing to see the reason for her disproval. "Maybe adopting a child is all they need to save their marriage."

"Absolutely not," her objection was quick and firm. "I wouldn’t wish that fate on any child. Especially not this one."

He looked at her then, his arms crossed on his chest. "You’ve rejected everyone I’ve suggested."

"Because none of them were good enough," she had no problem leveling with his stare.

"No one’s good enough for you, Peggy." There was some weight to his words. Something beyond the matter at hand.

"That’s not true." It was a topic she never wanted to address; a Pandora’s box that she didn’t want to open. So she diverted, even if she knew they all knew she caught the hidden meaning behind his words. "I think Ana and Mr. Jarvis—"

"—do not want their own child, thank you." Mr. Jarvis cut in. "They are, however, available if you ever need people to babysit Buttercup."

Angie’s chosen nickname for the baby spread fast. By the end of her second full day with them, everyone had somehow adopted the endearment already.

However, much to Peggy’s confusion, they all seemed to use it as a name. Not like how she used ‘love’ or ‘darling’ to refer to people sometimes; but, rather, like how she went by ‘Peggy’ rather than ‘Margaret.’ Or, similarly, how Angie went by ‘Angie’ rather than ‘Angela.’

If there was anything Peggy was sure of, though, it was the obvious fact that everyone had already been attached to the little darling.

And it hadn’t even been a full week yet.

"I— We can’t keep her." Peggy repeated the same words she told them the day they found the child outside the door. "She deserves to have a complete family."

"She needs a happy one," Mr. Jarvis countered. "And she looks pretty happy with you and Ms. Martinelli."

"She’s easy to laugh," she easily dismissed his claim. "Even Howard got her to laugh."

"Hey!" Howard took offense, "Babies love me!"

Peggy casted him a sideways look. "In any case," she purposely chose not to respond to his comment, "let’s continue to look for any potentials."

❅❅❅

Just when everyone — namely Howard Stark and Edwin Jarvis — was ready to accept that no one would pass Peggy’s standards, a couple actually did.

The couple was recommended by Mr. Jarvis. She had forgotten the details of how they knew each other, but she did remember two crucial things: the couple loved kids and they were thinking of adopting.

According to the background checks Peggy conducted with Howard and Mr. Jarvis, they had been married for a while — and had been trying to get pregnant for almost as long. They volunteer to orphanages and organizations for children during their spare time. They also appear to have a healthy relationship: one full of love, support, and encouragement. Basically a perfect environment to raise a child in.

When Buttercup was brought to their attention, they further proved why they passed Peggy’s standards. They personally helped devise a plan to check their compatibility with her, one that kept things slow-paced to avoid overwhelming the child. They were interested in the things that she was interested in, too, as part of their effort to build a bond.

"I’m going to miss her."

Sure enough, all the preparations paid off — for Buttercup seemed to like them during their first meeting.

In fact, they clicked so well that the first meeting immediately guaranteed a second. And, consequently, a third.

Before anyone could process the speed, they had already reached the portion of the plan where all three of them could bond without supervision.

"I told you not to get attached." Peggy scolded her friend lightly. "You knew she’d only be with us temporarily."

"I know," Angie sighed. There was no trace of regret in her voice, however, nor any kind of remorse. "But don’t act like I’m the only one, English. I know you did, too."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about." She immediately ate a spoonful of her dinner to appear more nonchalant.

Unfortunately, her housemate was unconvinced, "You like being the one to put her to sleep."

"I’m just doing my fair share of looking after her," she pointed out. "It doesn’t mean I’m attached."

Peggy could tell Angie was still skeptical, but she didn’t question her further. Fortunately so, because she didn’t know if she could continue defending something she didn’t quite believe in, either.

Notes:

thank you for all the support so far! it warms my heart <3

let me know your thoughts if you're comfortable! they're fun to read :]

Chapter 3: shell iii

Notes:

heya, get ready for some buttercup cuteness in this one o7

Peggy and Angie had approximately a week before Buttercup’s last unsupervised playdate with her soon-to-be parents.

Regardless of Peggy’s attachment to their ward, she joined Angie in her efforts to spend as much time as possible with their little housemate. When someone questioned the disconnection between her actions and her supposed attachment, she simply reminded them that she still needed to contribute her load. After all, she and Angie were looking after the babe together — and she could only do her equal part if she spent as much time around the baby as she did.

By this time, around a week before the inevitable, Buttercup had already been in their care for three months. She started babbling and crawling. She could recognize faces and consume purée. She was yet to master holding things and standing up, however. Still, Buttercup had obviously grown within the three months that she spent with them.

"Angie, her cheeks are red." Peggy pointed out to her seemingly oblivious friend. On times like these, specifically whenever Angie was too overcome by their little housemate’s cuteness, she liked to distance herself. For the fear that her cheeks might become the next victim.

"Eh?" Buttercup made a confused noise as soon as Angie let go of her cheeks.

"Sorry, Buttercup," Angie apologized in between giggles. "I gave you too much blush."

Buttercup pressed her palms on her cheeks, presumably to feel their heat. Unfortunately for her, it didn’t help with her cuteness. If anything, her pose just dialed it up a notch.

"We have to get this on camera!" Angie announced excitedly. "Peggy, c’mere before she removes her hands—"

Personally, Peggy wasn’t the one for photographs. She was never inclined to take photos that weren’t for official use, much less own a camera for the sake of owning one. However, as luck would have it, she found herself in possession of one thanks to a raffle. Angie wasn’t about to let her make a perfectly functional camera collect dust in a drawer, so selected moments had to be immortalized in film.

Most rolls of film were filled with Buttercup — may they be just her or her with any of them. Mostly because she continued to grow day-by-day and they were afraid to blink too much. And also because they wanted to have something to give to her future parents — a memorabilia of sort of her earlier months that they unfortunately didn’t get to witness.

"Little darling," Peggy called Buttercup’s attention using her personal nickname for her, "eyes here." Then, once her eyes were directly looking at the camera lens, she wasted no time and snapped the picture. "Got it."

Buttercup babbled on her way to try and touch the camera. Unfortunately for her, Peggy had already placed it somewhere out of sight before she could even reach her.

That didn’t seem to faze their little housemate. She merely looked up at her and raised her arms, signaling that she wanted to be picked up.

A chuckle escaped her lips at the determination shining through the baby’s eyes. However, the longer she waited to cave in, the more pleading her eyes had become.

Peggy picked her up right before she got impatient.

"Yay," Buttercup seemed to have celebrated with a gummy smile.

Before Peggy could playfully tease the child in her arms again, the phone suddenly rang.

"I’ll get it," Angie hurriedly announced after witnessing how badly the sudden ringing startled the baby in Peggy’s arms. She unhooked the phone by the time the third ring echoed. "Carter-Martinelli, how may I help you?"

Peggy had heard Angie answer their home phone countless of times. And every time she answered it, she always greet the caller the same way. Yet, still, Peggy would never not be amused with her friend’s insistence to treat answering their home phone like it was part of her customer service job.

"You want to go to Angie?" Peggy guessed when Buttercup started reaching and grunting toward the direction her other housemate disappeared into.

"Uh!" She seemingly agreed.

"I’ll rely the message." Peggy and Buttercup caught the tail of Angie’s phone conversation by the time they reached the other room. "Thank you, Mr. Jarvis."

"Did something happen?" Peggy intrigued upon noticing the subtle change in her friend’s expression as soon as she placed the phone down. She carefully passed Buttercup into her arms when the latter signaled her desire to transfer.

Angie’s expression turned more serious once the child’s attention was onto the phone not quite within her reach. "They’re no longer interested in taking her in."

❅❅❅

The couple that was set to take Buttercup found out that they were pregnant.

As much as they looked forward to raising her, they figured it’d be best if they didn’t. They knew, realistically, that all their attention would be focused on their miracle. It was improbable that they’d ignore her in favor of their biological child, but it wasn’t entirely impossible that they wouldn’t be able to care for her just as well as she deserved.

The couple felt in debt to her, though, as they both believed she had a hand in the existence of their miracle. As such, they promised to help find her a forever home.

In other words, Peggy, Howard, and Mr. Jarvis were back to square one.

"You know how everyone says she looks like you?" Howard started a conversation with his voice in lower volume than usual.

Mr. Jarvis went with Ana and Angie to purchase ingredients for their impromptu lunch. As such, it was just them two in the day room — with Buttercup peacefully napping on the sofa.

Peggy spared a quick glance at his direction, just to witness him looking at the child’s sleeping figure whilst deep in thought. "I still don’t see it."

For the first couple of weeks since Buttercup began staying with her and Angie, everyone would comment on the baby’s apparent physical similarities to her. They’d point out the exact features, but she couldn’t see the similarities no matter how intense she stared.

Frankly, the shade of Buttercup’s hair was the only similarity Peggy could catch. Which didn’t really mean anything to her, given the number of people who also had dark brown hair.

"Me neither." Howard’s revelation stunned Peggy. All this time, she thought he wasn’t just contributing to the others’ insistence because he had better things to do than to insist on something ‘obvious.’ Turned out, he couldn’t see what they were talking about, either. "For me, she resembles him more."

Peggy didn’t need him to clarify who he meant. After all, she saw him whenever she looked at her, too. "Her eyes, nose, and chin are his."

"Yeah," she saw him nod in her peripheral vision. "Do you think—"

"He would’ve reported for his mission by now." She didn’t even want to hear what he was about to suggest. "He might have the tendency to be late, but he would never abandon a mission."

Peggy only knew Steve Rogers for less than five years. It would be fairly debatable whether that was enough time for her to know him well, with the war and all, but she was absolutely certain she at least knew where his heart lied.

This is my choice.

I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance.

She almost didn’t hear Howard sigh, "You’re right."

For the Steve Rogers she — they — knew, duty always come first.

He would never turn his back on a responsibility, not when a life was at stake. He wouldn’t willingly go MIA in a position he chased to have. He wouldn’t leave a child — his flesh and blood — behind.

As such, despite the similarities, Peggy knew he couldn’t be Buttercup’s parent any more than she was.

Notes:

did i just hint abt what this ver of peggy would feel abt steve's endgame ending? yes. (not the coming back to her part, it's more on the execution/timing.)

to be fair, i built her character here from what i remembered from the first avenger and agent carter, so there's that. but anw, "controversial" stuff aside, i hope you enjoyed this one :]

Chapter 4: shell iv

Notes:

heya! i apologize this took so long . . . it's hard to write for something i actually enjoy when the thing i'm procrastinating on also involves writing TT anw, i hope y'all enjoy this bc i somehow made it to 1.9k+ words for this part??

Peggy drank her cup of chamomile tea on the balcony.

With her night gown and robe, she looked just about to be ready for bed. Except that wasn’t actually the case — at least, not yet.

Since it was Angie’s turn to put Buttercup to bed, she opted to use her free time to thoroughly review the top choices for the latter’s future family again. Thus, rather than indulging herself with pages of a book, she was flipping through a stack of documents instead.

By this time, another two weeks already passed since Mr. Jarvis informed them of the bittersweet news; since the search for Buttercup’s family started once more.

Unsurprisingly, Buttercup had grown some more in those two weeks.

However ecstatic they were about her new achievements, Peggy also took them as signs that they were officially running out of time.

Peggy heard Angie join her in the balcony before she actually saw her. She heard her slide the balcony door wider and back, followed by soft footsteps that grew a tad louder as she walked closer. She only looked up to meet her eyes when she heard her place a china down the table.

"Would you like more tea?" Her friend inquired in lieu of greeting her. "I just boiled more water."

She looked at her empty teacup thoughtfully, "I probably should get more. I need to finish this."

"Stay here. I’ll get it for you." Angie volunteered before she could even think about standing up. Her housemate didn’t give her time to say otherwise, either, before disappearing into the house with her teacup.

Peggy could only shake her head, slightly amused.

Her and Angie work really well. Not just as friends nor housemates, but also as Buttercup’s temporary guardians. They split responsibilities seamlessly — both concerning the house and the child. They supported each other in every way that matter — and balanced each other, in more ways than one.

"Here you go: one fresh cup of tea."

"Thank you, darling." Angie claimed the seat across, right in front of where she left her own cup. She let her take a sip before starting a conversation, "How was bedtime?"

"Chattier than usual." Her friend took another sip before placing the teacup back down. "Buttercup basically read herself a bedtime story."

Peggy chuckled at that. Buttercup certainly liked babbling ever since she gained the skill to. She would babble regardless of what she was doing: playing, eating, bathing . . . sometimes even sleeping. It was adorable to witness.

"It’s only a matter of time before she starts saying actual words."

"Yeah. She’s really growing up." Angie let out a sigh, which was enough to convey how she was feeling about the fact that their ward was growing fast in their eyes. "How’s the search going?"

"It’s . . . going," she replied with a slight hesitation. There was nothing wrong with the search for Buttercup’s future family, but the pacing could use more speed — especially with how much she grows every single day. "Would you like to see some of the options?"

Her housemate’s reply was almost immediate, "Sure, why not."

She passed her the stack she already finished doublechecking. "Let me know if any of them stands out to you."

A comfortable silence followed. It was only filled by the occasional sounds of papers flipping over the next and of teacups returning to saucers.

That was, until Angie decided to speak her mind. "It wouldn’t be so bad, you know."

Peggy stopped midway bringing her cup to her lips in both surprise and confusion. "What wouldn’t be?" She prompted before taking a sip.

"Buttercup staying with us," her friend responded nonchalantly. "Us raising her."

"Why would it be? She’s a wonderful kid."

She looked at her then, an eyebrow slightly raised, "You know what I mean."

She did.

For the first few days of her stay, they were extremely apprehensive about caring for an n-month-old baby. They agreed it would be best if they find her a permanent home as soon as possible, in fear of creating irreversible damage that would affect her for the rest of her life.

However, as weeks and months flew by, especially after they built a working routine, the easier it was to forget what their fears were. It also helped that Buttercup was relatively easy to care for since she was generally an easily-satisfied and well-behaved child.

"She deserves a complete family."

Of course, accompanied by the diminishing fear was the firmer realization that Buttercup deserved more than they could ever give her. She was a wonderful kid. She was worth beyond the limits of their combined capabilities, especially with the current state of their respective careers.

Peggy didn’t want to put her at a disadvantage. Especially when she knew she could still fix things and make them right.

"Not all traditionally complete families are happy," Angie’s response reminded her of Mr. Jarvis’ rebuttal all those months ago. "I know that’s why you’re doing this, to make sure the complete family we give her to is capable of making her happy, but— we really aren’t that lacking, English. Don’t sell us short."

She could see where her friend was coming from. When Buttercup appeared on their doorstep, neither of them were prepared to care for a child — much less a baby. Sure, they held babies before and entertained them, but those experiences weren’t any longer than a few hours at most. Neither of those prior experiences included how to bathe a baby more easily nor how to optimize intervals between naps.

Both of them had to figure out things along the way. They had to seek advice from strangers who appeared like they know what they were doing. They had to learn from mistakes.

Now, almost four months into caring for Buttercup, they were well-versed in the nuances of parenthood. Neither of them would claim to be experts, though, especially since they didn’t experience her newborn days. Nevertheless, she and Angie unarguably came a long way since then.

"I’m not," she assured her. "Seeing her healthy and cheerful everyday . . . unharmed at that, I know we deserve at least some credit."

"But?" Angie prompted, somehow knowing that other things were still unsaid.

"But she deserves better," Peggy summarized her fears with an emphasis on the last word. "We’re both still starting our careers back up, she shouldn’t need to live in the same uncertainty."

She watched as her housemate’s expression immediately changed with the revelation. "Oh. So that’s what it was." The latter leaned back to her chair, "I thought you were afraid to be a mother."

"What?" Peggy was flabbergasted. "No."

She involuntarily thought about the life she almost had. Before her older brother died, before she changed her mind about marrying a coworker, before she pursued being a field agent. It had been a lifetime since that life was still within her fingertips. And there hadn’t been any day that she regretted the decision to leave it all behind.

"You were adamant about not being attached, so I thought—" Angie didn’t even bother finishing her thought and just shrugged. "I’m sorry for assuming."

"Motherhood doesn’t scare me," she felt the need to clarify. "It’s more about not having the right partner to share that experience with. That’s what I’m afraid of."

Her friend hummed in understanding. "For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great mother either way."

❅❅❅

The couple that succeeded in — unknowingly — acing all the screenings and background checks this time around already had children.

They dreamt of having a big family. However, after the nightmare they experienced with the birth of their eldest, they decided to expand their family through other methods: through adaption. To date, they have three children: one biological and two adoptees. They were currently looking for another one to adopt, particularly a girl, because their eldest — a girl — wanted a sister.

Their youngest two weren’t treated differently — nor left out in anything, as far as Peggy could discern. The siblings appear to have a strong bond as well, despite their age differences and lack of blood relation. Likewise, the children seem like they love and respect their parents.

Buttercup wouldn’t be at risk of being alienated. If anything, she would gain three protectors in the siblings.

She was set to meet the couple in the upcoming days. For now, she was off running over Peggy’s, Angie’s, and Ana’s feet with her walker in the backyard. (Howard, over-the-top as ever, built her two walkers: one for indoor and another for outdoor use.)

"Here, little darling," Peggy dropped a couple of toys in the tray of her walker after she ran over her foot for the umpteenth time. Thankfully, that seemed to do the trick since the child immediately stopped in place to play with the toys she gave.

Buttercup didn’t even acknowledge her even when she gave her a quick kiss on the crown of her head. Nor as she walked away to return to where Angie and Ana were.

"Peggy, what do you say?" Ana asked as soon as she was close enough.

"About what?"

"Giving Buttercup an actual name." Angie supplied.

Peggy thought it over for a moment. When the topic about naming Buttercup first came up, all those months ago during her first night with them, she had been against it. She believed her parents should get the right to name her, given that they’d be the ones raising her.

She still believed in that, even now. However, remembering the multiple instances of Buttercup recognizing her special nickname, she was beginning to recognize that perhaps bestowing her a more appropriate name was long overdue.

"I suppose it’s about time," she eventually said. "She can’t be ‘Buttercup’ forever."

Angie looked at the child’s direction then, her expression almost melancholic, "She’ll always be ‘Buttercup’ to me."

Peggy let a comfortable silence settle for a second before maneuvering the conversation back. "Have you thought of any names that suit her?"

"I think ‘Charlotte’ will suit her quite nicely," Ana responded while looking as though she was physically fitting Buttercup for a name. "She could go by ‘Lottie.’"

"I was thinking ‘Dorothy,’ like the protagonist in The Wizard of Oz," Angie chimed in. "But then I remembered we already know one and I don’t want to name Buttercup after her."

"‘Lottie,’ ‘Dottie,’" Peggy mumbled thoughtfully. "‘Cassandra,’ maybe? ‘Cassie’ for short."

"‘Theresa,’" Angie shared another choice. "She could go by ‘Tessa’ or ‘Tessie.’"

"How about ‘Sheila’?" Ana suggested. "No, never mind. She doesn’t strike me as a ‘Sheila.’"

"‘Lilianna’?" Peggy tried again. "‘Lily’ for short."

"Oh, that’s a good one," Ana commented. "She definitely looks like a flower."

They continued to throw names around. Even after Buttercup got bored of the toys in her walker’s tray and started exploring the backyard again. Also after she got bored of that and asked them, through her own way of communicating, for a bottle of milk.

"How are we supposed to pick?" Angie voiced their shared dilemma. Her eyes were focused on Buttercup, who was currently contented on Peggy’s lap with a milk bottle between her tiny hands. "A lot of the names we said suits her."

"We can ask Buttercup which one she likes best," Ana suggested nonchalantly while smoothing the child’s hair — almost as if she was lulling her absentmindedly.

"It wouldn’t hurt to try." Peggy looked down to meet Buttercup’s eyes, which were already looking at her. "Little darling, gives us a sign which name suits your fancy, alright?"

Buttercup made a perfectly-timed sound and all of them basically ran with it.

In the end, Buttercup didn’t particularly like any of the names they thought of — at least according to their interpretation.

In the end, Buttercup still remained as just Buttercup.

Notes:

thank you for reading! see y'all in the next chapter, whenever that is . . .

also, before i forget, i just realized last week or so that i misspelled the title of this work T_T i fixed it now, but ngl that was embarrassing since i literally didn't notice until two months in—

Chapter 5: shell v

Notes:

finally back with another chapter! i swear there's always one scene i get stuck on for ages that delays the progress TT

i hope you guys enjoy this one . . . somehow ^^

Peggy and Angie continued to think about Buttercup’s new name for the following days after. Unfortunately, none of the names seemed to be in the child’s liking. Nevertheless, they continued to try.

They developed a habit of calling out random names whenever Buttercup was preoccupied with something and her attention wasn’t on them. They agreed that whichever name managed to make her head turn toward them would be her name, as their previous tactic didn’t seem productive.

Not that their new tactic was any different, but they couldn’t think of anything else.

"Why don’t you just assign her one?" Howard wondered once, after he found out what she and Angie were doing. "Like, you know, we all were?"

"There are just so many names that suit her," Peggy started to explain, "we couldn’t just pick one."

"Then just give her all of them," he shrugged. "Give her a long train of them, like those royals do."

Peggy scoffed at that. However, before she could say anything in retort, Mr. Jarvis beat her to it. "That would be a nightmare to teach her write."

Frankly, she didn’t think she nor Angie would still be around Buttercup to teach her how to write. Nevertheless, she agreed with the valid point Mr. Jarvis brought up. "Precisely. And besides, we wanted to give her the choice."

Howard was still unconvinced. "Just name her after you since she’s your clone."

Peggy couldn’t control the face she made. Wasn’t it just mere weeks ago when he disclosed that he couldn’t see Buttercup’s resemblance to her? That he could see Steve more? And now, there he was — calling the child her literal clone. The traitor.

"Absolutely not."

❅❅❅

The day that Buttercup’s new parents were scheduled to pick her up, everyone made sure to clear their respective schedules. After all, it’d be the last time they’d see her.

Angie and Mr. Jarvis did their best to hide their tears, in fear of alerting the child. On the same vein, they all agreed to not act differently in front of her nor to directly tell her goodbye. They also coordinated with her new parents to just come back for most of her things so she doesn’t catch on.

In essence, everyone strived to make the day just another playdate day for Buttercup.

(All five of them being present in sending her off shouldn’t be a problem as they had done it a few times in the past, albeit unintentionally.)

However, as it seemed, Buttercup caught on, anyway.

Peggy was the only one to actually see her off, as Angie was barely keeping it together. "I will run off with her, English. Don’t test me," as her friend all but threatened. They didn’t want her to do it alone, however, so Howard tagged along.

She didn’t see the need for a company since she was literally just seeing Buttercup off. It was a simple task, if one ignored all the emotional baggage it came with.

And yet, it didn’t turn out as simple as she imagined. For Buttercup refused to leave.

Buttercup was her usual self when her new parents arrived. She had no problem being carried by one of them and consequently taken outside the house. She even waved to them and said "bye-bye!" before exiting in the arms of her new mother.

But, for some reason, she started crying as soon as she was situated inside the car and its door was about to close. She stunned everyone and froze them on their spots: no one — not even Peggy nor Angie — had seen nor heard her be so desperate.

She was full-on wailing, desperately gesturing to be let out of the car. It was like as if she knew she’d never see them again once the door closed.

And if that wasn’t enough, her incoherent cries eventually turned into a repeated chorus of "Mama!" as she tried to reach out to Peggy.

Angie taught her that word. Not to refer to anyone in particular, but mostly to surprise her future parents. She didn’t use it often as it wasn’t her favorite word, but she did learn that she could get whatever she wanted with it.

Needless to say, it was obvious that she wanted Peggy at that moment.

"I’m so sorry," Peggy started to say when the only way they could calm Buttercup down was to place her in her arms. "I’m not quite sure why she’s suddenly reacting this way."

They tried again once her cries quieted down into sniffles. However, she wouldn’t loosen her grip on Peggy’s top — no matter what they did.

In the end, they compromised on letting Buttercup fall asleep first before her new parents take her to their home.

It was a cruel thing to do, tricking a literal child, but it was the only option without her gut-wrenching screams of despair.

❅❅❅

Peggy had to admit, it was strange coming straight back to an empty house after work. For five consecutive months, she either had to drop by Howard’s other house or the Jarvises to pick up her and Angie’s ward. Or she would open the door to Angie and Buttercup relaxing in a messy living room. With Buttercup gone, and Angie being out for the next few days, she was utterly alone in the house for the very first time.

The silence was deafening, so she decidedly put the radio on to counter it. However, the soft hum of jazz didn’t stop her from drowning in her own thoughts.

Her eyes gravitated toward the stack of pictures in her vanity. They were from the films she sent to develop before Buttercup was scheduled to start living with her family. Although most pictures went to the photo album they gave to her parents, she and Angie kept some of her solo shots and everything that included them.

One of the pictures had Buttercup posing with both of her hands on her cheeks. Another had her giving a gummy smile while a toy block was in her mouth. There was also one with Buttercup on Howard’s shoulders, the latter wincing as the former held onto his hair mischievously. One with her sitting on Ana’s lap as Mr. Jarvis flipped a book in front of them. One with just her and Angie, cheek-to-cheek and both grinning at the camera.

But, perhaps, Peggy’s utmost favorites were those with just them two. Especially the one that featured their so-called resemblance the best. Sure, she still struggled to see similarities, but she could see them a bit better on it.

Peggy didn’t regret choosing to give Buttercup up. However, just because she felt no regrets didn’t automatically mean she wouldn’t miss having her around. Her arrival was a huge change, so it was reasonable that her absence was one as well. As such, missing her was perfectly justified — regardless of Peggy’s personal attachment.

Everything we— I did was for her own good. She was better off this way for the long run. She would be happier — and that was all we really wanted for her.

The telephone ringing out of nowhere drowned out the song on the radio and brought her out of her reverie.

"Carter-Martinelli residence," she answered before the second ring. Her mind was still on the picture she stared at so intently.

"Hello," a familiar voice greeted through the other end of the call. "May I speak to Ms. Margaret Carter, please?"

It took her another second to recognize that the voice belonged to Buttercup’s mother. "This is she."

"Ms. Carter, Buttercup—"

Hearing Buttercup’s name was enough to make her blood run cold. Almost instantly, her brain had jumped into the conclusion that something terrible must’ve happened to Buttercup — terrible enough that her mother reached out to her former guardian.

She didn’t need to hear anything further than what was already said. "Tell me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can."

Notes:

thank you for reading! i appreciate all your interest && support in this, despite the slow progress <3

see you on the next one whenever that is o7

Chapter 6: shell vi

Notes:

yea, i know. i'm just as surprised as you guys are that there's already another chapter. i didn't expect it either.

i hope you enjoy this! it literally took 6 chaps to get to this point oml.

Peggy’s heart dropped when the address Buttercup’s mother told her over the phone led her to a hospital.

For someone who claimed to have no attachment to the said child, she sure ran to the hospital’s information desk in record time. Likewise, she sure did let out the biggest sigh of relief when she was informed that nothing was seriously wrong with the said child.

Thankfully, no one was around to take note of the fact — nor to defend her actions to.

According to Buttercup’s dad, she began running a high fever seemingly out of nowhere. They tried to get her temperature down using all the methods they picked up from their three older kids, but nothing worked. If anything, her fever just continued to worsen. They finally decided to rush her to a hospital when her temperature reached a record high.

Apparently, she had been down ever since she woke up from her car drive nap then, the one Peggy put her on before they left. Since her first night with them, she had been asking about ‘mama.’ And the only way she would sleep was after she tired herself out from crying.

Based on the facts they have, her parents reached only one conclusion.

"Oh, little darling," Peggy took in all the contraptions hooked into Buttercup’s tiny body.

Buttercup was physically rejecting her new family, inducing a frighteningly high fever which ended her at the hospital. Her fever didn’t allow her to keep anything down, so nutrients had to be injected into her bloodstream.

Fevers had long been curable. But that didn’t eliminate their fatality, especially to babies. Like Buttercup.

"We would love to continue having her in our family," Buttercup’s mother started to say while her own eyes were glued on her sleeping form, "but it’s clear who she’d rather be with."

Peggy swallowed a lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. "She’s better off with you."

"She’s happier with you," the older woman countered and, suddenly, the conversation was familiar. "I know it’s scary raising a child but, from what I can tell, you and Ms. Martinelli are doing just fine."

She then went on to list all the things she noticed in Buttercup during the days the latter spent time with her and her family. Peggy tried to correct her and point out that some of Buttercup’s mannerisms were already there when she was dropped off at their doorstep, but her mother heard none of it.

"My point is, Ms. Carter," her mother eventually began wrapping up her speech, "you wanted her to choose for herself and she’s doing exactly that.

She’s choosing to stay with you."

❅❅❅

In hindsight, it was on Peggy for overlooking Buttercup’s feelings — albeit she didn’t do it on purpose. She simply had been too preoccupied with ensuring that she didn’t develop any strong attachments to the point that she didn’t even get to consider hers.

Amidst her efforts to not develop any attachments while still carrying her weight of caring for their ward, the said ward had grown attached in the five months she spent in their care. Not that anyone was blaming the babe, of course, as it was only natural to get attached — especially for someone her age. But most especially because, despite her best efforts, Peggy had also grown attached — albeit she had been adamant about denying reality.

In the end, Buttercup came back with Peggy once she got better and was discharged from the hospital.

"I vote for your last name," Angie expressed her opinion when she saw her staring at the surname section of a birth certificate. "I’m pretty sure writing mine made me cry when I was little with the number of letters."

Peggy didn’t fight her suggestion. She was almost certain spelling ‘Margaret’ had been a pain for the younger her as well. "If you’re sure."

As Buttercup wasn’t left with any legal documents nor anything traceable, they made a fair assumption that she didn’t have any. Thus, instead of filling out adoption papers, they made the call to just file a late birth registration for her.

Peggy’s information was the chosen one to go on the mother’s section, as it made more sense with their uncanny resemblance. With her surname being the chosen one as well, and the father’s section being blank, Buttercup’s birth certificate had paint quite a scenario.

"I wish your name is in this, too," she expressed. "We’re raising her together, after all."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but getting to pick her name is already enough for me." She had half a mind to point out that Buttercup was technically the one who did, but she let her housemate have it as she was the one who pitched the name. "Besides, I didn’t really have a good relationship with my dad, so I don’t want to pass on his name to Buttercup."

She hummed in acknowledgment. "We could change her middle name from ‘Katherine’ to ‘Angeline,’" she suggested.

Angie considered it for a moment, then eventually shook her head. "Her first name sounds better with ‘Katherine’ than ‘Angeline.’"

Peggy murmured the names a few times to herself, testing their flow. "They both sound alright to me, but I suppose." She filled in the more blanks on the document before unleashing a comment with a soft chuckle, "I still can’t believe we’re naming her after a chocolate."

"You and I both," her friend immediately agreed with her sentiment. "We gave her so many options and yet she insisted on ‘Reese.’"

At first, her and Angie were only taking chances on the names that they found appealing; those that they personally thought suited her. However, as rejection exhausted everything they liked, they also took chances on other names. One of them being ‘Reese.’

And, much to their complete surprise, Buttercup reacted — responded — to the name thrice. Peggy blamed it on her nickname, albeit they drew blank on where she could’ve possibly heard the chocolate brand Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Thus, thanks to that, Buttercup was legally registered as Reese Katherine Carter — born to Margaret Elizabeth Carter five months prior to the submission of her birth certificate.

❅❅❅

Buttercup’s — or Reese’s, as they were trying to start calling her — permanent stay with Peggy and Angie called for a celebration. Thus, a mere few days after filing birth certificate, everyone found themselves in the backyard of the Carter-Martinelli residence.

The backyard was decorated with banners, streamers, and balloons. Howard even put a party hat on Reese’s head, but it didn’t last long there. Soon after, she began entertaining herself by talking into it — giggling at how the cone muffled her voice.

All the adults could only watch her in collective fondness.

"Knew you’d come around eventually." Howard nodded all triumphant, like he had expected the entire ordeal to end with only this outcome.

"Did you, really?" Peggy challenged, not believing his claim — not even for a second. "I wasn’t aware your genius intellect comes with fortune-telling."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark, but I also find that hard to believe." Angie pitched in as she sat down after placing a pitcher of juice on the table. "Peggy’s heel was really deep on the ground about it."

"I did observe Ms. Carter to appear uncharacteristically invested in caring for the young miss for someone who claimed to be unattached." Mr. Jarvis soon joined the conversation, "She often went above and beyond when it concerned—"

"—that’s just how Peggy is, darling, isn’t she?" Ana countered, not even waiting for her husband to finish. However, before she could be thankful for the defense, her friend added on: "Although that tendency still didn’t mask the attachment she swore wasn’t there."

Peggy put a hand over her heart in a dramatic offense. She could’ve sworn she had hid it perfectly well, but apparently not. "Was it really that obvious?"

"Why did you think they kept hinting you should keep her?" Howard was the first to respond. Essentially, his reply had been a long-winded way of affirming.

Much to her dismay, the subtle nods from everyone else corroborated his point.

"We didn’t want to force you bluntly, but we did want to make sure you knew we’d always be here to help if you actually changed your mind."

Notes:

tmi: since this is a rewrite of my old fic, buttercup's legal name was thought of first. (as in she was never referred to as 'buttercup' in the original draft.) her nickname was actually the one that was based on her legal name lol. definitely not sponsored by reese's, but i did think it was funny, haha.

anw just a head's up on the next few chapters, whenever those will be done: imma speed run through her childhood so expect time skips o7

thank you for reading && see ya on the next one o7

Chapter 7: shell vii

Notes:

ig the current speed of updates rn is once a month . . . smh. i planned this to be out early this month, but it got longer than expected (i'm pretty sure this is the longest one yet at 2.2k) && now here we are *insert awkward smile emoji here*

i hope this is worth the wait && y'all enjoy it. somewhat. somehow. :D

Peggy didn’t quite understand the proverb before; but, when she experienced it firsthand, she began to recognize its validity. It really does take a village to raise a child.

Not much had changed in their routine when Buttercup — Reese — began living with her and Angie permanently. Really, the biggest difference was probably the knowledge that everything they temporarily assigned as hers was now permanent.

They continued building their respective schedules around her, making sure she had at least one of them with her everyday. When their schedules just wouldn’t work, they’d call for help from her volunteer babysitters: the Jarvises.

Howard was initially part of the roster. However, after they found out that he brought her to his lab and surrounded her with a lot dangerous things, he was no longer allowed to watch her alone. His babysitting ban would only expire once Reese was old enough to not put everything in her mouth or to be left semi-unsupervised. He was rather offended by it, but chose to prepare for when the time comes instead of dwelling on what already happened.

Reese continued to grow up in front of their eyes. The next moment they knew, she already started walking. Then, she was dashing around everywhere — with one of the adults always hot on her tail. She started learning martial arts with Peggy, Ana, and Mr. Jarvis just because they all thought it would help tire her out — so she wouldn’t run around as much.

Her vocabulary had increased exponentially. She now could say a lot more words and express herself more effectively. However, despite knowing how to say ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ and ‘want,’ amongst other things, she still hadn’t let go of using ‘mama’ to get whatever she wanted. So much so that even Mr. Jarvis and Howard had been called ‘mama’ at least once.

"Ms. Reese, what did you just call me?" Mr. Jarvis almost stuttered in his surprise. His hand tightly wrapped round the plastic cup he was holding out of the toddler’s reach.

"Mama!" Reese repeated while trying to reach for the cup.

"Ms. Reese, I am flattered, truly, but I am your uncle at most."

They strived to teach her their proper titles after she successfully conditioned the two gentlemen to answer to ‘mama’ as well. Although it would make a fun inside joke, it would also be difficult to explain and correct once she got older.

Thus, Reese eventually learned to call them by different names: Uncle for both Howard and Mr. Jarvis, Auntie for Ana, Mama Auntie for Angie, and Mummy or just Mama for Peggy.

Overall, every single day that passed kept on proving Peggy wrong. Reese didn’t need anyone else to be her family. They were already hers — from the moment they refused to leave her at an orphanage.

❅❅❅

For one of Reese’s birthdays — or, rather, the anniversary of her entrance into their lives, Peggy gifted her a stuff animal. It was a gray elephant, after watching her be enthralled by the performing animal when they went to the circus. Reese even named her Peanut, after the circus elephant herself.

(Everyone had a laugh when they realized that Reese and her stuff elephant were literally ‘Buttercup’ and ‘Peanut’ — as in, Peanut Buttercup.)

Peggy didn’t expect Reese to get attached to it, but she did. She took it everywhere and would literally refuse to leave the house without it. Peanut was always next to her: dragged on the floor as she walked, trapped in her arms while she slept, on her lap while she eat— It was suffice to say that it quickly became her primary playmate as there weren’t much instances where she willingly separated from it. (Bath time being one of those exceptions after Peanut couldn’t join her to bed when it took a dive with her.)

Peanut the elephant was there when Reese began picking up drawing. It was a byproduct of tagging along to Ana’s art class every so often, whenever it coincided with the days they needed Ana to watch her for a few hours. Peanut was often the subject of her drawings — or at least present in most of them, in one form or another.

The very first drawing she gifted anyone belonged to Peggy. It was far from being the first ever drawing she ever made, as proven by the numerous drawings already displayed on the fridge and around the house, but it certainly was the first one she ever made with intention of giving it to someone.

"Mummy!" Reese’s call was partnered with the pitter-patter of her feet against the floor, the sound getting louder as she neared the kitchen.

"Slow down, little darling," Peggy responded over her shoulder before putting the stove on low heat.

"I made this for you!" The child shove a paper to her face as soon as she squatted down to her eye level.

She got a pretty good idea about Reese’s chosen list of muses for her drawings. Apart from Peanut, the latter also liked featuring the adults around her in them. Yet, still, her heart swelled as soon as she gazed upon her gift.

It was a drawing of them two. The figure wearing a red triangle dress was labeled ‘Mummy’ and the relatively shorter one with a blue triangle dress was labeled ‘Reese.’

Peggy almost burst into tears when she looked back at Reese and saw her smiling widely at her.

Truthfully, even with years of experience under her belt, she still had her doubts about parenthood. Specifically, how she was doing with raising Reese. Upon seeing her there, under the subdued sunlight from the window, however, she suddenly began seeing her in a different light.

Reese was healthy and safe. She was brave and confident, too. And, best of all, she was bubbly and happy. There were always stars in her eyes and a sun in her smile. Peggy might not exactly know what she was doing, but she — they collectively — must be doing something right.

"This is a masterpiece, Ree." She opened her arms for a hug and the child gladly accepted the invitation with a giggle. "Thank you."

Reese was still giggling when she replied, "You’re welcome, Mummy." Her smile was unbelievably wider when they separated. "I’m gonna make Mama Auntie one, too!"

❅❅❅

Parenthood came with both ups and downs. Regardless of Reese being easy to care for, she was still a child — a growing and learning child. A slip up was bound to occur, in one form or another.

It was just Peggy’s luck that it was a really frightening one. One that involved a kidnapping scare.

They were at a playground. Peggy was sitting on a bench not too far away while Reese was off having fun with the other children. She strategically chose a particular bench because she had a great view of the playground: Reese could wander a little bit further and she would still be able to see her.

From the day Reese learned how to walk and play with others closer to her age, she and Angie had already began to discourage her from wandering off too far and disappearing from their sights. Although she got free reign inside their home and their backyard, their front yard was part of that training — for they had no gate and she could accidentally wander onto the street. Admittedly, it took a while for her to get it, but she got there eventually.

However, still, there would be instances when Reese forget. Not on purpose nor with any mischievous intent, but because that was just how it was. They never punished her for forgetting, but they did reprimand her. After all, they couldn’t make her think it was alright to repeat such actions.

Thankfully, none of the almost-slip ups had been overly frightening. Some had caused slight panic, sure, but nothing that almost caused their hearts to jump out of their chests.

Yet.

Peggy only took her eyes off of Reese’s small figure for a few seconds. One for looking down at her feet to investigate what it was that she felt touch her ankle. Another for following the direction where the football could’ve possibly came from. And one more for nudging the ball back to the children that awaited its return. The whole ordeal couldn’t’ve lasted more than five seconds and, yet, when she returned her attention back to where she saw Reese last, no one was there.

She didn’t panic right away, of course. She figured the child and her playmates just moved locations. After all, it would be foolish to expect children to not move when not all the games they could possibly think of were stationary.

She first just tried to locate the big red bow she put on Reese’s hair. She figured that would be the easiest to spot in the sparse sea of children. However, that tactic was proven to be futile when no red bow stood out from where she was. Her natural conclusion then was to think that either the bow had fallen off on its own or Reese yanked it out when she wasn’t looking. Either scenario was equally possible, so she wasn’t in any way worried.

What did set off the alarm in Peggy’s head, however, was the fact that she couldn’t spot any little girl in a blue dungarees. After all, there was no way Reese could’ve taken it off successfully in under five seconds.

Still, she did her best to keep her cool — even after she abandoned the bench and looked for her with more than her eyes. Unfortunately, her internal panic only worsen when she still couldn’t spot her face anywhere.

"She went that way," one of the children Reese was playing with pointed her to a direction after she came up to their little circle to ask.

Everything would’ve been fine if Peggy saw Reese’s figure immediately at the end of her playmate’s finger. Unfortunately, the direction she was pointed to looked deserted at first glance. No one was there, not even a stray cat.

It was only then did the dread build up in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she uncovered a new fear: Reese getting kidnapped.

Peggy didn’t dwell on that thought for long, though. Not only did she not want to, but also because she had a more pressing matter to attend to. She had no time to be scared, not when Reese was potentially waiting for her.

The switch from Peggy Carter, the mother, to Peggy Carter, the agent, was instantaneous. She was on high(er) alert — cataloging where everything was with a mere glance, scouring for any clues carelessly left behind.

"Reese, darling?" She called tentatively, slightly unsure if she should search for her in silence. "Where are you?"

The silence was both deafening and unhelpful for her nerves, so she ultimately decided to continue calling out as she ventured further away from the playground.

And just when she was about to plan enlisting the remaining Howling Commandos’ help (in addition to that of Reese’s aunts and uncles’) did she finally hear a sweet voice respond.

"Mummy!" It was Reese — running towards her with sparkling eyes.

"Reese." Peggy didn’t hesitate to meet her halfway and lift her into a tight hug. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

"Hm!"

She could only look at the child in her arms, unsure how to interpret her hummed response. However, based on how the latter hadn’t stopped smiling and there were no visible gashes on her body, she was ready to accept that as a good affirmative. "Where have you been?"

"I met pirates!"

Peggy was understandably intrigued. She momentarily stopped peppering kisses on her face to prompt: "Oh? How did you know they were pirates?"

"They had a skull on their clothes!" Reese’s eyes shone impossibly brighter, "It looked really cool!"

❅❅❅

The incident made an unshakable impression to Peggy. And to Reese, too, albeit for a completely different reason.

For Peggy, it was because she never found out what happened then. When she asked Reese about it, the latter only told her that the pirates gave her a lolly for being good. When she pressed her to elaborate, the child only shrugged before saying "I don’t know."

There was little comfort when she eventually told her that the pirates didn’t hurt her in any way.

Peggy told the rest about the whole ordeal. After a quick discussion, they all unanimously agreed that they had to watch Reese more closely. None of them could discern if the pirates — whoever they might be — targeted her at random or if they eyed her specifically, so they knew it was better to be safe than sorry. They couldn’t be sure that those ‘pirates’ wouldn’t be back for her, either, so that also strengthened their resolve.

It didn’t help that Reese was extremely fascinated by the skull the pirates apparently had etched on their clothes. For she kept drawing their insignia over and over even after a few days had already passed since.

Thanks to her drawings, Peggy and the rest knew that the skull wasn’t just any other.

It was a skull with six tentacles.

The very same skull with six tentacles that S.H.I.E.L.D. aimed to eradicate.

Notes:

peggy: no time to panic!
also peggy: i should call up the howling commandos.

the next one should have more dialogue since reese will be at the age where she just . . . talks :D at least that's the plan, anw. as of rn, i think we got two more chapters of her childhood before a shift, so brace yourselves, ig.

thank you for reading && all your interest in this btw, despite the unideal updating schedule. it really means a lot!

see you on the next one whenever that is o7

Chapter 8: shell viii

Notes:

*taps mic* hiiii. long time no update! heh.

it's totally unplanned that this eighth chapter is posted on 08.08, but i think the coincidence is kinda cool, so i wanted to mention ^^ to be fair, i wanted this out like two months ago; last month at the latest, but— sigh.

anw, before y'all read on just a disclaimer: i didn't have a reference for the first scene, so it might totally be inaccurate irl >< i don't think i ever asked that question when i was younger, nor do i watch enough movies that aren't either superheroes/children/anime, so i literally got nothing to work with. i'm so sorry in advance *insert kneeling emoji here*

still, i hope y'all enjoy reading! <3

Peggy tightened the security and surveillance around Reese after her run-in with HYDRA.

The latter wasn’t left alone anywhere, not inside a building and absolutely not outside of one. She limited their park visits, too, and mostly stuck to their house yard for their outside play times. Whenever it was unavoidable (e.g., Reese getting too antsy from being cooped up, doctor appointments, unexpected grocery runs, etc.), she would ensure not to take her eyes off of her — not even for a second.

She also turned to technology for more support, on top of enlisting Reese’s aunt and uncles’ assistance. With Howard’s permission, video surveillance systems were installed around the house — monitoring both inside and outside. She also made Reese unknowingly carry a tracking chip of sorts, courtesy of Howard, on her person at all times.

Needless to say, Peggy had certainly learned her lesson from that day.

As what she had been told before and what she had already experienced firsthand, parenting is tough. She had to tiptoe around protecting Reese and caging her. And, although it was never her intention, she had across the fine line with the intensity of her safety measures.

Thankfully, Angie was there to help her see reason. Thus, soon after her friend made her see the crippling effects of her overprotectiveness on the child (which already started to manifest), Peggy relaxed her measures just enough to not make the latter feel confined.

In her defense, her job familiarized her to HYDRA’s wickedness. She had seen firsthand what it could do and how far its members were willing to take things for the sake of their goals. She came to know how its extreme vileness affected those that fall involuntarily on their hands.

And, as Reese’s mother, she couldn’t bear the thought of HYDRA laying any finger — tentacle? — on her daughter.

Peggy might still be figuring things out when it came to the logistics of raising Reese, but there was absolutely nothing to decipher about her stance on the latter’s safety. Especially if that was being threatened by the very entity she was working against.

Unfortunately, there was no amount of protectiveness that could’ve prevented this.

It had been Angie’s turn to pick Reese up from school. As usual, Peggy asked her housemate how Reese had been as soon as she arrived home. It was just how she inquired about how the pickup went and how Reese seemed after a long day at school. It was also her not-so-subtle way of asking about the challenges Angie had to go through alone while she was still at work.

She had already expected her answers to fall within the usual mixes. From past experiences, the replies were typically a varied combinations of Reese being hyper, refusing to do her homework, in dire need of a nap, hungry, chatty, and everything else in between. There were even a couple of occasions when the response included Reese being mad at a classmate because of some playground fight.

What the pool of possibilities never had, however, was Reese being unusually upset to the point of going straight to her room upon arrival.

"I got her to change before she lied down," Angie was wrapping up her relay. "She had been under the covers since then."

"Is she coming down with something?" Peggy voiced out her thoughts in worry.

"I don’t think that’s it," her friend immediately countered her line of thought before it could go any farther. "Her eyes looked sad to me, but she refused to say anything."

She considered her next possible move. They had agreed early on that they would raise Reese to always speak her mind. Although Peggy could probably figure her thoughts out, given the mental gymnastics she deals with for a living, she much preferred if Reese told them everything she wanted them to know willingly.

From the moment Reese could express herself efficiently, that agreement had held fruitful. Reese had grown up — and continued to — unafraid to speak her mind. Even on times she didn’t want to let them know what she was thinking, she’d tell them as much. She never shot them out right off the bat.

Until now, apparently.

"I’ll go check on her."

Peggy headed straight to Reese’s room after changing out of her work clothes. When her soft knocks elicited no response, she twisted the knob and poked her head in. She had half-expected to see her fast asleep, thinking that she had decided to sleep off the sadness in her eyes. However, instead, she found her sitting up against the headboard, hugging Peanut loosely with one arm, and drawing in silence.

She approached the bed with light steps. And, with each step she took, the tears that streamed down her daughter’s face became clearer and clearer — as did the sound of quiet sniffles.

Reese was crying.

It was not the first time she witnessed her crying, of course, but that didn’t mean she no longer felt a tug at her heartstrings whenever she cried in front of her. If anything, this instance was the worst tug yet — because her daughter didn’t immediately seek comfort like she always did.

She stopped herself from exploring why and opted to just claim the other side of the bed wordlessly. Whether Reese felt the dip of the bed, she didn’t know — for the child didn’t do anything to acknowledge it. The latter didn’t look up from her art, nor did her pencil halt from the sudden external movement. She just continued with her sketching, unbothered and seemingly unaware.

Peggy let the silence stretch. She had no reason to ruin it, as Reese seemed to find comfort in it. She didn’t want to force her to speak her mind before she was ready, either, so she just made herself comfortable — with as little movement as possible — and waited until she was.

A part of her hoped that her presence still had the same effect on Reese. Partly because that meant nothing had changed in their bond; that the latter hadn’t fundamentally changed, but mostly because that’d mean she wouldn’t’ve to face the inevitable fact about the child beside her growing up yet.

She had been warned about that for far too many times than she could count. She didn’t really think much of it then, merely seeing it as a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we get there’-type of thing, and now . . .

Have they stepped on the bridge? Already?

Peggy began considering the possibility that she just unknowingly put Reese in a difficult position. Maybe they really have arrived at the point where it was best to leave her to process her emotions alone, without the need to guide and comfort her through them. Maybe it was time they move onto a more indirect comforting approach. Maybe— Maybe—

Before her thoughts could go any further, arms wrapped around her without any warning — followed by a head nuzzling onto the side of her abdomen. It was Reese.

Operating purely on instinct, she draped one arm around her daughter like a half hug. Her other arm then caressed her hair repeatedly, smoothing it out in the process.

"Mummy," Reese finally broke the silence.

"Will you tell me what’s wrong, little darling?"

It took another moment before Reese responded. "How come Reese doesn’t have a Daddy when everyone in school does?"

Ah. She supposed she should’ve seen this one coming. In hindsight, it made sense for this talk to come before the shift in their bond.

Truthfully, Peggy and Angie never planned to hide the real circumstance of her birth. They had agreed that it was her right to know, especially if she ever wanted to search for her biological family herself or if it’d be an important piece for her self-discovery later on. They fully intended to tell her once she was old enough to understand — which, ironically, was right about now.

"Ree, do you remember what your Mama Auntie said when you asked where babies come from?"

Their eyes met when the child looked up to answer. "Mama Auntie said babies get dropped off by storks outside people’s houses in a basket."

"That’s right," she concurred, "that is one of them. Babies can get to their mummies and daddies through other ways, too."

"Other ways?" Reese repeated, notably intrigued. She removed her hand that was caressing the other’s hair when the latter shifted to sit up straighter.

Peggy made a sound of confirmation before launching on an elaboration. "Besides the storks delivering them, parents can also personally get them from stores. They can also make them at home, if they have enough of the necessary ingredients."

"Like cake?"

She made the same sound once more, albeit this time with a ghost of a smile upon the mention of her daughter’s favorite dessert. "Except babies from stores and at home usually need both mummies and daddies, not like if the storks delivered them."

"Why?"

"Well, if they got them from a store, mummies need help carrying the babies because their houses are far," she started to answer. "Then, if they make them at home, mummies need daddies’ help to mix the ingredients."

"And if the storks delivered the babies?" Reese prompted.

"Someone from the house just needs to carry the babies inside," she responded almost immediately. "The storks usually drop the baskets near the doors, so only one person needs to do it."

Reese nodded slowly as she comprehended everything she just said. "Reese came from the storks? That’s why Reese doesn’t have a Daddy? Just Mummy?"

Peggy ran a soothing hand on her back, slightly proud that her daughter arrived at that conclusion without needing it to be spelled out. "That’s right." She used her other hand to wipe the remaining tears that spilled all over the latter’s cheeks. "Were you crying because you want a Daddy?"

It took a moment before Reese replied, "No." Somehow, there was a sense of relief that came upon hearing her answer. Truthfully, she wasn’t quite sure how she’d react if her reply had been the opposite. She wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment — nor did she have the desire to, given her overflowing work and parenting responsibilities. "I like just having Mummy and Mama Auntie here."

She wouldn’t tell anyone, but her heart swelled at Reese’s admission. Over the years, she had collected an uncountable amount of assurances about her and Angie’s parenting. However, no amount of ‘another’ lessen the impact of each one. Especially since Reese never failed to present them in unique ways, albeit everything was unconsciously done on her part.

Yet, as it seemed, her daughter really had outdone herself this time. For nothing could ever possibly top being explicitly told they were enough.

Peggy kissed the top of her head as a token of appreciation. She couldn’t contain the smile that ultimately graced her lips. "Love you, Ree."

"Love you, too, Mummy."

❅❅❅

Peggy avoided bringing Reese to S.H.I.E.L.D. as much as possible. There were simply far too many things in there that weren’t exactly child-friendly, even if she trusted her coworkers to look after her and treat her kindly.

The first time she brought her along to work happened because no one else was available to watch her. Everyone was out of town for various reasons. And, in her defense, she wasn’t even supposed to report. It was her day off, which meant she was only supposed to be spending the day with Reese. Unfortunately, someone called a quick emergency meeting and her presence was required to be there.

Thankfully, Reese was old enough to be left unsupervised for more than an hour — just as long as she was well-occupied.

She left Reese inside her office with the latter’s drawing notebook and drawing utensils, albeit not before reminding her thrice to turn away anyone who would ask for her and to not leave the room.

"Carter, who’s the little angel in your office?" One of her coworkers inquired as soon as he entered the meeting room. They still had a little over ten minutes left before the meeting officially started, so everyone was still slowly trickling in. As such, there were barely anyone else in the room with them two. "I dropped by on my way and she redirected me here."

"That’s my daughter," Peggy answered nonchalantly.

"You have a daughter?" Another coworker joined in, surprise was completely written on his face. "Since when?"

"Since seven years ago." She couldn’t blame any of them for being surprised. Unlike her coworkers who were more open about having children, may that be by boasting about them or mentioning them occasionally, she was a little more private about it. Not because she was embarrassed — given the widespread stigma — or anything negative of that sort. Rather, she simply had a more defined boundary she strictly followed through between her work and personal lives.

The first coworker she was conversing with hummed thoughtfully, which he partnered with a slow nod. "That explains why I saw hints of Michael. You and your brother have similar features."

Peggy tried to not let her astonishment show. In all the years since she had Reese, everyone had just been commenting on how she took after her. She never had the heart to tell them the truth, how that couldn’t possibly be because she didn’t give birth to her, especially since they were typically adamant on their observation.

However, as she was barely realizing, everyone who had the pleasure to meet Reese only knew her. No one — not even those who were aware of Reese’s adoption — had seen her brother before and, ergo, their point of reference on who Reese reminded them of was only her. That was, except her coworker that had assisted her then and had seen her brother in person.

Up 'til now, no one ever considered that Reese might be her niece. Not even her.

In her defense, besides the fact that she couldn’t even see the child’s resemblance to her, she had no reason to think of her brother. When he left her for dead after she discovered he had faked his own death, she had decided right there and then that she no longer had a brother.

Peggy didn’t disown him, per se, but she did consider him dead. She’d still tell anyone who would happen to ask that she had an older brother. However, she’d also tell them that her older brother passed during the war. (Essentially, she just continued doing what she had already been doing for years, so it was no arduous task — even if it began leaving a bitter aftertaste.)

Not once did she ever consider that their now-ruined relationship was still savable enough for a niece to be sent in her care. At least, not until that day; not until she heard that particular comment.

When she returned to her office an hour-and-a-half later, the same train of thought lingered at the back of her mind. And, with it, she tried to identify the resemblance she had been failing to see all these years.

"Mummy!" Reese welcomed her back enthusiastically from her desk chair. She had left her working on the couch but, judging on how she left drawing notebook open to a fresh page, she would assume that the latter explored a bit of her office while trying to find inspiration. "Are you done with work?"

"Yes, I am." She unconsciously smiled as soon as she saw Reese’s undeniable enthusiasm through her entire demeanor. She walked closer to where she sat for a kiss. "What are you looking at?"

Peggy wasn’t worried that the child had found something she shouldn’t have. Given the nature of her job, she knew how to hide sensitive documents well — to avoid them falling into the wrong hands. She was confident not even Reese’s unfiltered curiosity would manage to find any.

"This!" Her daughter proudly presented the object between her hands. It was the only other picture frame that decorated her desk. The one that had been there long before the frame with a younger Reese joined its ranks. "Who is this, Mummy?"

She opted to kiss the top of her head before responding, "That’s Mummy’s friend."

She was aware how inaccurate that label was. Steve Rogers wasn’t just a friend. Not even a mere comrade. He was so much more than she could ever describe — especially to someone who was much too young to understand the intricacies of relationships. Thus, such a simple and imprecise label would have to suffice.

"Ah. Okay."

Peggy assumed, based on how quick Reese dropped the topic, that that was the end of it. She figured, contrast to everything else the latter had inquired about in the past, "Mummy’s friend" didn’t spark enough interest to warrant a follow up.

However, as it turned out, she just saved her follow up question for her bedtime. "Will you tell me more about the man in the picture? Please?"

"Are you sure?" She asked for confirmation after recovering from her initial surprise.

Reese’s affirmation came quickly, like she didn’t even need to think twice about it. "It’s only him and me on your work desk, Mummy, so he must be really special."

Peggy essentially had no choice but to oblige after that.

She told her about the Steve Rogers that she knew. The kid from Brooklyn that did everything in his power to serve his country — and to do everything he thought was morally right. She spoke of his unmatched perseverance, illimitable fearlessness, unbounded kindness, and unyielding loyalty. She introduced him as ‘Captain Rogers’ and continued to refer to him as such all through out, not once mentioning the moniker ‘Captain America.’

And, despite the lack of a catchier name, stories about ‘Captain Rogers’ became a hit at bedtime.

Eventually, once she finally saw the resemblance between her and Reese (through the same features she shared with her brother), she also told Reese about her childhood with ‘Captain Carter.’ And those, too, replaced her usual order of fairytales.

Notes:

really quick before y'all exit. i want to thank you guys for the continued support in this. it really means a lot, consider the slow updates and long-ish (>1k) chapters. so, yeah, thank you sm <3

i won't say anything abt the next one bc i think i jinxed myself last time so i'll just zip my mouth. haha.

thank you for reading && i hope to see y'all back next time o7

Chapter 9: shell ix

Notes:

surprisingly back w another update this month :0

we continue to see the ups && downs of parenthood in this; but, just a forewarning, the scenes are not as connected as they were last chapter. && also, reese is a little bit older in these now, think 8 - 10/11 range ^^

Peggy couldn’t’ve predicted that the quiet baby and bubbly toddler would grow into the kind of child that Reese turned out to be. Specifically, the kind of child that got her guardian called over to her school because the disciplinary actions the teachers and administrators had been conducting hadn’t been successful in discouraging her behavior.

"We didn’t teach you martial arts so you could go beat up your classmates, Reese," she started their disciplinary talk once they arrived back home. Her voice was notably dripping with disappointment.

Normally, her disappointment would be enough to convince Reese to reflect. However, that didn’t seem to be the case this time. "I know, but they were asking for it. All of them were."

"Couldn’t you just have ignored them this time, too, Buttercup?" Angie prompted gently. "It worked really well last time."

The child immediately shook her head in response. "Last time, they were just taunting me with the same old stuff; about me not having a Daddy. That’s nothing," she elaborated rather nonchalantly. "Today, they were bothering Donna and making her uncomfortable. They wouldn’t stop even after she told them to, so I stepped in."

That was the thing about the reasons Reese got into trouble in school. They were always because she was defending someone — may that person be herself or someone else. Peggy supposed they should be glad she was always at the wronged side rather than the opposite, but there was unfortunately no comfort in that given her tendency to escalate things.

"Did you have to deal with it yourself?" Peggy posed a rhetorical. "You could’ve called a teacher over and let them handle it."

"I tried," Reese admitted, "but the teacher only said ‘That’s just how boys are, honey’ and didn’t do anything!"

Angie made a sound of understanding. "They didn’t really give you much choice there."

That was the other thing with the reasons Reese got into trouble, especially after she started applying their words of advice. She had moved to using violence as a last resort, compared to being her go-to when she was younger. Despite that, however, the number of fights she was involved in didn’t really change significantly.

Perhaps she was just biased, but Peggy was starting to not understand why Reese was often penalized for standing up for herself and others the more she or Angie was informed of her misbehavior. Especially when she was never told if the bullies she was against were also punished. The way she saw it, she and Angie had told Reese everything morally correct — and Reese had already applied their words successfully. What else was there for them to do?

Really, by that point, she was ready to blame the institution and its staff.

"We’re proud of you for standing up for your friend. Always." Peggy settled to say when she couldn’t find anything else. "Just— Don’t throw the first physical attack next time, okay?"

. . . That was the best she could do.

Thankfully, Angie seemed to agree with her sentiment. "Yeah, Ree. When they put a hand on you without your permission, that should be the only time you attack."

Reese considered this before nodding slowly. "Okay."

When Reese’s latest school trouble eventually reached the ears of her other aunt and uncles, their reactions were best summarized by Howard’s "As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

Peggy didn’t have the heart to point out that her daughter couldn’t’ve inherited anything from her.

❅❅❅

Peggy had a strong hope that the unexpected visit she made when Reese was still n-months old would be the last time. Unfortunately, there she was: sitting across a doctor in a white coat at a local hospital and waiting on the latter’s diagnosis.

Her and Howard had been at S.H.I.E.L.D., in a middle of an important meeting. However, while their subordinates were in a heated debate about the best course of action, Howard’s secretary crossed the room with determined steps and whispered to both of them that his goddaughter — her daughter — had been rushed to the hospital.

They almost sprinted on their way out. They didn’t even bother to nod at Colonel Philips to signal that they were leaving him by himself amidst the tornado of ideas. They just left without looking back, their minds only focused on one thing. Reese.

Peggy didn’t even register that, technically, Howard didn’t have to come along. The only reason his work phone was called in the first place was because she hadn’t been at her desk to answer hers. Not that there was nothing wrong with him accompanying her.

They were the last ones to arrive, behind Angie and Ana who called S.H.I.E.L.D. to let them know. (Angie was second on Reese’s emergency contact list at school.)

"Your daughter has asthma," the doctor eventually announced after wordlessly questioning why there were five people in his office rather than the usual one or two people he probably got.

"How?" Peggy heard herself ask. She had met people with asthma, but it wasn’t like she could just ask how they acquired it. That question seemed personal — if not rude.

"The most common reasons are respiratory infections, allergic reactions, and irritant exposures," the doctor listed. "It can also be genetic; something that was inherited from a parent.

"In Reese’s case, it was constant irritant exposure, likely when she played at the playground in school," he continued to explain. She didn’t need to look around the room to know that they were all hanging to his every word. "It is possible that she outgrows it eventually; but, for now, I advise using asthma cigarettes or those new medical inhalers whenever it flares up."

Peggy internalized the fact that Reese was now chronically ill. Even with the chance that she eventually outgrows it, the asthma doesn’t actually vanish entirely; the attacks just become infrequent.

Somehow, she was somewhat convinced it was her fault. If she cared for her better, then she wouldn’t’ve gotten asthma. If she parented her better, then she wouldn’t be back here — lying on a hospital cot.

"This isn’t on you, English," Angie’s voice effortlessly cut through her thoughts.

"What isn’t?"

"Buttercup getting asthma."

Peggy couldn’t stop seeing ghosts of contraptions connected to Reese’s small body. She knew nothing was really there, but her memory of baby Reese hooked up on some seemed to be merging with reality.

Thinking back, that one had been somewhat her fault as well. If she had recognized earlier that there was nothing wrong with taking her in permanently; that Reese clearly wanted to stay with her and Angie, then Reese’s body wouldn’t’ve found the need to induce a concerningly high temperature to the point of hospitalization. "It feels like it is."

"Well, you’re feeling wrong," Angie countered in a heartbeat, blunt and resolute. "We both know we’re raising a little adventurer here. One way or another, she’d be exposed to whatever irritants caused the asthma."

She didn’t know enough to disprove her friend’s claim. Thus, instead of continuing with the topic, she opened an adjacent one. "She could die."

"That’s a severe, worst-case scenario," Angie eventually reminded her of the doctor’s words. She could only assume that her housemate’s initial silence was caused by her thinking through the scary possibility. "We just need to make sure it never arrives to that point."

Peggy focused on Reese’s sleeping form, willing the ghosts of IV drip, oxygen, and heart monitor to go away. "Right. Of course."

❅❅❅

Reese’s asthma didn’t really change anything in the surface. She was still the same adventurous, energetic, and lovely child they all knew. She still loved watching Angie’s Broadway shows, learning martial arts with the Jarvises and her mother, and attending Howard’s Stark Expos and galas. She hadn’t stopped drawing and, unfortunately, getting into fights, either.

She had a number of asthma attacks over time, but they were thankfully nothing that an inhaler couldn’t fix.

By this point in time, Peggy, Reese, and Angie were no longer living under one roof. Angie moved closer to Broadway, where her primary job was located. Peggy and Reese also moved out of Howard’s estate and into a smaller home, partly because she found all the space redundant. Not to mention, she actually had no plans on living in his property permanently in the first place, anyway. The three of them still meet pretty frequently, though, regardless of whether it was just them three or also with the other three.

Peggy, by this point in time, began occasionally going out to dinners. Admittedly, she was reluctant about the whole idea because of her age and her general lack of need for a romantic companion, but she ultimately gave it a shot. At the very least, if they really couldn’t work out in a romantic angle, she’d have a new friend. That was her hope, anyway, in her second most optimistic scenario.

To her surprise, Reese was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. But then again, she had always been a calm person, even back when she was a baby, unless someone pissed her off. She didn’t make a fuss about it besides the What’s his name?, What does he do?, How old is he?, and How did you meet? questions. Peggy suspected Angie and Ana somehow talked her through it, if she was actually against it at first. After all, they would’ve known she would readily drop the entire thing without a second thought if her daughter showed any sign of disproval — no matter how minuscule.

Yet, despite Reese’s verbal approval for this particular dinner, which came in the form of "Have fun, Mum! Tell me how your date goes," there she was — a few tables away from where Peggy and her date were seated.

There was no way she wouldn’t be able to recognize her own daughter even with fake eyeglasses on.

Peggy raised one eyebrow when her eyes locked with Reese, silently questioning her purpose for being in the same restaurant. In response, her daughter merely waved in greeting and motioned for her to focus back on her date. She didn’t even flinch at being caught.

Throughout the night, Peggy would subtly look over at Reese’s table. However, much to her confusion, she hardly looked in her direction. She only caught her looking her way again once and she never felt her eyes on her like she normally would, as a highly skilled agent with years of experience under her belt. She did, by stark contrast, get caught redhanded on multiple instances. Had Mr. Jarvis taught Reese—?

"Mum, why did you keep looking at me during your date?" Reese wasted no time and cut to the chase when she picked her up from the Jarvis’ household later that evening. "It was strange."

Instead of answering, she threw one of her own as she maneuvered the car out of parking, "Why were you guys at the restaurant?"

"Because—" Her daughter started to say before stopping abruptly, as though she just realized something. "— Wait. You thought we were there to spy on your date, didn’t you?"

“Were you not?"

Reese made a sound that was akin to a dismissive scoff. "No. We were there to spy on Uncle Howard’s date."

She almost turned her head to look at her; but, alas, she was driving. "Howard was there?"

Her daughter affirmed. "Auntie Ana, Uncle Edwin, and I wanted to make sure Uncle Howard was behaving. It was Auntie who set them up, after all." Peggy suddenly had more questions than she started with. Needless to say, she didn’t expect the truth behind tonight’s confusing events. "I take it you didn’t see him?"

She shook her head lightly. "I was only focused on you and your awful disguise."

"That’s fair," Reese surprisingly agreed at once, not even bothering to defend her disguise choice. "I almost wore a hat with it, but I thought that’d be suspicious since people rarely wear hats to dinner."

She hummed, "Remind me later to teach you the art of disguise, in case you do more spying in the future."

"Thanks, Mum."

Peggy would’ve let the comfortable silence — save for the jazz in the stereo — stretch for the rest of their drive home. Unfortunately for Reese, who had always liked getting lost in her thoughts while looking out the window, she was really curious about one thing — and it certainly couldn’t wait until tomorrow. "How did Howard’s date go?"

"It went better than I thought it would," Reese admitted with a slightly impressed hum in her voice. "Though, personally, Maria Carbonell is too good for him."

Peggy could only laugh. That comment had Angie written all over it.

Notes:

i hope you guys enjoyed the calm :D

thank you for reading && see you guys on the next one o7 until then, take care!

Chapter 10: shell x

Notes:

i was looking forward to reach this point but it ended up not sounding as well as i imagined :/

oh well. i hope y'all enjoy!

Peggy was mentally preparing herself for having a teenager. Although she had been in denial then about Reese inheriting some of her traits due to their lack of biological relation, it had become apparent over the years that the latter was taking after her as the person she spent the most time with. Peggy hadn’t been the most behaved person during her teenage years, so she was rightfully expecting to experience the headache she gave her own mother for herself once her daughter turned thirteen.

At least, she supposed, Reese had been a much better follower of her words. Heaven knows how she adamantly refused to listen to her own mother during her youth. But, to be fair, her mother had been hellbent on making her act like a proper lady — which wasn’t really her cup of tea, no matter how many times it was forced down her throat. All she was hellbent on for Reese was lessening her involvement in fights — which, thinking back, wasn’t something that was easy for her to follow, either.

Putting her penchant for being involved in fights aside, Reese was blossoming into a fine young lady. She continued to be interested in arts — and even got Howard to be a patron. She excelled in her studies. She learned how to cook and bake and clean and stitch. She picked up manners and mannerisms that assisted her in socializing with the elite crowd and unpleasant company. She carried herself with confidence and gentleness. She enchanted everyone she met, in some form or another, regardless if it was intentional or not.

It wasn’t Peggy’s nor anyone else’s intention, but Reese also gradually built up the necessary skill set to be a spy— an agent. She could hold up during a fight even if outnumbered because she had been learning martial arts pretty much as soon as she could walk. She could disguise herself and act like someone else because she had learned both arts of disguise and acting. She could hold a gun, albeit only those that fire plastic pellets. (That skill had been taught without Peggy’s knowledge, courtesy of the surviving Howling Commandos.) She spoke and understood multiple languages apart from English. She picked up observational and analytical skills fit for a detective.

When Ana brought it to their attention, Peggy had been stunned to silence. Truthfully, she was hoping for Reese to pursue a career far removed from hers; one without constant exposure to danger attached to it. That had been the dream, after all: she’d go to war and deal with any threats so that those who’d come after her would be able to live peacefully — free to pursue anything without worrying about their safety.

But Peggy was above repeating the same mistake her own mother did with her. She didn’t want to dictate what Reese should be once she grows up. Sure, she’d prefer it if she doesn’t follow her footsteps, but that’d be ultimately her daughter’s decision. Either way, whatever Reese decides in the future, she’d be there for her.

"Oh, no." Peggy, who was walking behind Reese, almost bumped into the latter when she suddenly stopped dead on her tracks. "Mum, I forgot my inhaler."

They were on their way to the Jarvises’ house for some tea time with Ana, Angie, and Maria (Howard’s girlfriend). Her car had broken down unexpectedly a few days prior and was still with the mechanic. Instead of canceling, Reese had convinced her that they should just take the subway so they could go on a little adventure. Her daughter had been so excited about the thought that, when the other three ladies ultimately offered them rides, she felt no regret about refusing their kind offers. Thus, there they were: far from their home and much closer to the bus stop that would take them to the subway station.

Peggy flipped her wrist inward to read her watch. "We can ride the next one."

There wasn’t even a second when she was frustrated with her daughter for forgetting something as important as her inhaler. Partly because she, too, had forgotten. In both of their defense, her asthma attacks had gotten less frequent as she grew older. Yet, still, neither of them was comfortable with traveling without it. Mostly, though, Peggy had no issue going back to get her inhaler because it was more important than catching a bus when one comes every fifteen minutes.

Before she could gesture for Reese to lead the way, since the latter always had to be either in front of or next to her when they walk, her daughter already had a proposition ready. "I’ll just run back and meet you at the bus stop."

"That’s unnecessary," she denied almost immediately. "We’re in no rush."

Reese heard nothing of it. "Please, Mum? You can time me."

Peggy didn’t think that was a good idea. Besides the fact that her outfit wasn’t really ideal for running, she didn’t want to risk her tripping and busting her lip — or worse, hitting her head. But, alas, she was powerless against her pleading eyes. She sighed, ". . . Fine. Be careful, alright?" She fished for her keys. "Don’t forget to lock the door and the gate behind you."

Reese’s eyes immediately shone upon hearing the permission. Even more so when the surrendered keys landed on her open palm. "Start watching the time, Mum. I’ll be back!"

Peggy watched fondly as her daughter sent her a wide smile — a signature of hers that reached her eyes — before she sprinted toward the other direction. As asked, she memorized the time Reese started her little marathon.

There was a twinge of bittersweet feeling about watching her run from behind. With her impending and inevitable puberty, Peggy knew it was only a matter of time before Reese starts a life that didn’t necessarily involve nor depend on her presence. As such, despite her better judgment, she let her have her little marathon and create another memory of her closing childhood. She hoped it’d help keep her daughter a mere kid a little longer.

When the third bus headed to the subway station pulled away from the curb with no Reese still in sight, her worries exponentiated. The walk from their house to the bus stop takes roughly ten minutes. By rough estimate, assuming her daughter located her inhaler in no time and ran to the bus stop after securing the locks, Reese’s marathon should’ve taken thirteen minutes, give or take. However, it had been exactly forty-five minutes since the start of the timer — that was more than thrice her rough estimate.

Peggy didn’t want to assume the worst right off the bat. She didn’t want to react extremely and immediately jump into the conclusion that something terrible had happened, especially if the delay could’ve easily been caused by something mundane — like Reese unexpectedly needing to use the toilet, being unable to find her inhaler, or having difficulties locking/unlocking the house. Thus, her walk back was only slightly hurried.

However, her speed-walk instantly turned into a run when their house came into view. The gate was open as was the door, which barely stayed on its hinges. The windows were shattered.

"Reese!" Panic rose from her chest to her throat. The feeling only worsen when the mess of their home greeted her from the door. Everything wasn’t where they should be and, worse, some were even split into different pieces. It was like a tornado went in and wreaked havoc.

And amidst the wreckage was Reese’s inhaler — stepped on and barely recognizable.

It was difficult to make a clean switch from Peggy Carter, the mother, to Peggy Carter, the agent.

It was eerily reminiscent of Reese’s kidnapped scare back when she was still in preschool. Except this time, there was something left in her wake: destruction. "Reese! Where are you?" And if that wasn’t enough, there was also blood splatters. She could only hope none of them were her daughter’s.

Peggy flipped the scene upside down, analyzing and checking every nook and cranny. She continued to call for Reese, alternating between her nicknames and her first, first with middle, and full names.

But, alas, despite her best efforts, she was only greeted by deafening silence and empty areas. Reese was nowhere to be found.

❅❅❅

A file for Reese Katherine Carter was opened in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. Her biography was detailed to match her government and baptism records. Her skills were listed, just like for all the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. In it, she was also addressed as "Agent Zero"/"Zero" — a placeholder alias for a child that might choose to follow her mother’s footsteps someday.

An operation was started in close parallel. One about finding Agent Zero and getting her home.

(Peggy preferred if Reese didn’t take the same path, but she’d gladly steer her closer to that direction if it meant she’d have her back. She’d do literally anything to have her daughter back.)

Rescuing a kidnapped child was admittedly outside S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jurisdiction. However, exceptions may be made especially if the primary suspect for the said kidnapping was HYDRA. After all, HYDRA had made contact with her before. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched to think they had come back for her — which was exactly what Peggy had feared then.

"You can’t be part of the operation, Carter."

"And why the bloody hell not?" Peggy challenged, her annoyance barely controlled. It had been four days seen Reese was taken. She hadn’t had a proper wink of sleep since. "You guys have always insisted that I’m the best at this—"

"You are," Colonel Philips didn’t even wait for her to finish. "But you’re also too close to the case."

"She’s my daughter!" She argued readily. Her eyes were watery, and she wasn’t sure if it was just her eyes begging her to close them or if it was her pent up emotions leaking through. "I can’t just sit back and do nothing!"

"Your judgment’s clouded, Carter. You won’t carry out the operation as well as you usually do." He seemed to have heard nothing of her argument. "You might even jeopardize it."

She wanted to continue arguing; to call bullshit. She was the only one who knew anything that could make more things clear. After all, she was with Reese the most. She held most of the hints. She just needed more time to think through her memories.

But Colonel Philips’ words had already sunk in. It didn’t help that her efforts to get Reese back on her own had been futile, either.

There was a legitimate reason why doctors weren’t permitted to operate on their own family members. And she was unintentionally living the proof of its validity.

Her posture deflated in a moment. Her voice merely above a whisper, "I don’t want to lose her."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will bring your daughter back," Colonel Philips uttered it like a promise. And she desperately wanted to believe it.

It had to be true. Because she didn’t know what she’d do if it wasn’t.

In the end, a compromise was made. She didn’t manage to convince Colonel Philips nor anyone else to let her be a member of the operation for Reese’s rescue, but she was at least able to personally pick out the lead agent for the case. A bone was also thrown in, in the form of a promise to keep her updated about any progress they’d make.

Peggy wished she was allowed to do more without compromising any chances; but, alas, she could only hope. So that was what she did.

(She wasn’t really one to follow orders she didn’t believe in; but, for her daughter, she’d do anything — including stepping down to increase her chances of getting her back.)

❅❅❅

Time passed achingly slow. Yet, somehow, two years had already passed. Peggy wasn’t sure how she survived those years, but she did somehow. And, against her own will and as a pure manifestation of time, she got used to a new normal.

She eventually had to write down the start time of Reese’s supposedly short marathon. She couldn’t afford to forget it accidentally in case Reese asked for it once they meet again. Perhaps she could tease her about it, specifically about how late she had been and how her run had been absurdly long. She deliberately stopped thinking about it after a while, mostly because it became too heartbreaking the more distant it got. (Her final straw on keeping it stored mentally was the new year, as what was only supposed to be a record with mere minutes and seconds turned into one with years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds.)

Peggy began sleeping next to Peanut, the stuffed elephant Reese treasured as soon as she gifted it to her for one of her birthdays. Reese always slept with it, even when she reached double digits, because she didn’t want it to feel lonely. Peggy took Peanut from Reese’s bedroom for a similar reason. (Peanut smelled like her for a while, until her scent eventually faded.) She was certain her daughter wouldn’t’ve wanted her oldest playmate to be alone in the dark for an undetermined amount of time.

She also began writing letters addressed to Reese. It was her attempt at pretending that her daughter simply went on a vacation in Britain with her grandmother and that there was a set date for her to come back. However, the new development in Agent Zero’s case effectively convinced her to switch to a journal instead.

There was a time, specifically when Reese was roughly seven years old, when Peggy was partially convinced that her daughter was actually biologically her niece. She didn’t like that possibility at all because it meant her not-dead traitor of a brother let her and Reese down. That chance only strengthened her decision to keep him dead in her mind. She decided to not fact check it, as it would’ve been a waste of time: she was her daughter, not his. (Had the fact check revealed him to be her biological father, it would only mean he willingly surrendered being her father.)

Yet, as the S.H.I.E.L.D.-branded folder that now haunted her detailed, all her theories about Reese’s life before she entered hers had been completely off. Reese wasn’t left outside their former home because they lived in a rich neighborhood. It wasn’t because Michael passed his parental duties onto her, either.

Rather, Reese’s basket found itself there because—

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter wasn’t just of Special Air Service, Special Operations Executive, MI5, and Strategic Scientific Reserve. Nor was she just a daughter, sister, friend, fiancée, lover, partner, and roommate. She was also a mother and of Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.

She was someone who antagonized HYDRA and everything it stood for.

Name: —
Alias: "REESE KATHERINE CARTER,” “BUTTERCUP,” “LITTLE DARLING"
Status: INACTIVE — ON HIATUS
Subject Number: 526
Experimentation: PROJECT DEMIGOD

Notes:

if it wasn't clear enough, the block of information was the "new development" in the case. aka what s.h.i.e.l.d. uncovered in a hydra base raid.

as always, thank you for reading && for checking this out :D

until next update <3

(just as a head's up: i might do some minor editing, so don't be surprised if the word count fluctuates wo new chapters o7)

Chapter 11: shell xi

Notes:

*taps mic* hii, long time no update :D

i would say i didn't expect to be gone since september oml, but that be a lie — losing inspo is brutal for me fr. it's also not funny when i literally already wrote what happens from this point on && i still got writer's block since i'm changing the pov that it's told in??? idk what's up with that, honestly.

anw. thanks to the two readers that wrote comments on the last chapter because reading their feedback made me actually try writing this chapter. i hope you both enjoy this <3 (and ofc everyone else, too, who have been waiting!)

Steven Grant Rogers has grown accustomed to the comforts of life in the twenty-first century.

Beds are softer. Food is more flavorful. Transportation is faster. Televisions are more colorful. Choices abound wherever he goes. And, most importantly, the internet provides everything he could possibly need.

However, that isn’t to say his purpose as a soldier has come to an end. There are still battles to fight and beliefs to fight for. They just gotten weirder and more . . . periodical, for the lack of a better word.

Thanks to that, Captain America and Steve Rogers can actually co-exist without complications.

"I hate this game," he hears Sam say somewhere on his left. Tonight’s game night at the Tower and, as they learned sometime ago, everyone is split into three different games. Sam is with the bunch playing Uno.

As is Bucky, who seems to relish at Sam’s current dilemma. "You just hate it ‘cause you’re losing."

"Stacking should be illegal," he hears Sam grumble as he counts off the cards he’s adding to his personal stack.

Steve tunes back into the game he’s actually participating in. Monopoly, A-K-A the game he’s currently winning — surprisingly enough. Then, again, he never would’ve thought they’ll keep landing on his properties.

"Oh, damn," Tony curses as he realizes where his pawn has ended up. It’s one of Steve’s properties on the board.

He counts the play money the billionaire begrudgingly hands him. "I own all the light blue," he reminds him after, "the rent’s double."

Tony only looks at him. His eyes conveys enough of his inner turmoil. Steve can only assume the other either wants to strangle him or flip the board over. Maybe even both.

"Aw, dude," Peter’s disappointment suddenly catches his attention. "I guessed wrong."

"What did you say again?" Pietro inquires. "Red, revolver, and—?"

"Don’t tell him, Peter," Wanda cuts in. On previous occasions, the team’s youngest three play with the rest of them. For tonight, however, they have their own huddle around the board game the Queens native brought. Apparently, the latter has played it with MJ and Ned, and thought it would be good for their game night.

As far as Steve’s concerned, Peter has made the right call. Especially since Clue — the game he brought over — is also bringing out the players’ competitiveness. Somewhat. "Hey!"

"You snooze, you lose, brother."

Steve returns his attention to Tony, fully expecting the latter to be done lamenting his Monopoly wealth. Unfortunately, JARVIS comes on the speakers right there and then. "Boss, Director Fury is summoning you to S.H.I.E.L.D.."

Perhaps, if Tony had been winning, he would’ve ignored the summon. He would’ve ignored it until he no longer could either because Fury paid him a visit or because someone was sent to drag him to the headquarters. But, alas, he’s in the verge of Monopoly bankruptcy.

Tony hands all his play money and title deed cards to Bruce. "You’re inheriting my properties and debts," he declares seriously with a pat on the other’s shoulder. He then addresses his AI, "Let Fury know I’m on my way."

"As you wish, Boss."

Of course, in a room full of people who thrive on knowing information, Tony isn’t exactly free to walk out of the room without some interrogation.

"You’re not even gonna question why Fury wants you in at eleven-forty-five at night?" Natasha spearheads without looking away from her Uno cards.

Tony shrugs, "Must be important if it can’t wait ‘til the morning."

"Shouldn’t we be called in, too, if it’s that important?" Pietro wonders out loud.

"Not if it’s not Avengers business," he replies without turning back. The rest of them just look at one another, making sure they’re all seeing how uncharacteristic the genius inventor is acting. "Don’t raise Hell while I’m gone. Ciao."

They wait until they’re sure Tony is nowhere to overhear before conferring.

"That is suspicious, right?" Bruce starts. "It’s not just me?"

"It’s not just you," Steve assures him without removing his eyes on the doorway Tony disappeared into. His mind races to come up with possible explanations. But, alas, he thinks of nothing compelling.

"Kid, do you know anything about that?" Bucky asks Peter. He sees where his best friend is coming from, to arrive at that approach. After all, out of everyone in the room, Peter spends the most time with the genius.

Their youngest’s response is quick enough for them to believe it. "I don’t think so."

And so there goes their plausible lead.

A round, predictable silence follows suit.

Which Clint had the pleasure to break soon after. "That settles it, then," he concludes for the rest. "We should follow him."

The logic isn’t structurally sound, nor is the idea well-thought out. Steve is certain they all know that. Yet, still, no one challenges Clint’s proposition — as if they all want to do as he say. He can’t really blame them for that since he, too, wants to find out what waits Tony at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

The way Tony responded to Fury’s summon is really just too suspicious. Monopoly bankruptcy or not, it’s almost as if he had been waiting for the signal to go there; as if he has been on standby for Fury’s message for who knows how long.

And it isn’t like Tony will tell them when he comes back. Someone needs to corner him for that to happen — and, even then, it’s not guaranteed. He’s great at making both impossible.

Thus, with that in mind, and the lax in judgment brought by the late time of the night, Steve ultimately gives the green light. "We should clean up before we leave."

❅❅❅

Regret comes in form of sleepiness most of them are fighting off.

Sure, they’re all somewhat trained to hold it off longer than others, but most of the work is really done by adrenaline. Without the adrenaline and the fear for their lives, there’s only so much they can do.

It doesn’t help that Director Fury seems to be taking his sweet time to show up.

"What time are you supposed to meet?" Wanda inquires for everyone’s behalf. Her head is resting on her brother’s shoulder, with her arm wrapped around his.

Tony is the only one completely awake by this time. It isn’t a complete surprise, given his lack of a proper sleeping schedule. "There’s no time set."

The room complains without words. Frankly, no one’s sure how long they can keep waiting without dozing off. They don’t trust Tony to wake them up once Fury decides to show his face, either.

"No one told you to follow me," Tony reminds them as a response to the groans.

"But you can put us out of our misery if you just tell us what this meeting’s about," Clint replies, not once telling the other that he’s right.

"It’s not too late to realize Underoos is right to not come along."

It takes another twenty minutes of lulling silence before the door to the room finally opens. Much to their relief, their hopes aren’t raised for nought by someone else. It’s actually Director Fury that walks through.

Tony, being the only attentive one remaining, is quick to welcome him. "So glad you can finally join us." He pockets his phone that has kept him entertained for the entirety of their wait. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

However, instead of walking right into the straight-to-the-point path the genius billionaire laid out for him, Fury paves his own. "I only remember inviting you."

"Yeah, well," Tony shrugs, "I come with a van-full of tail, apparently."

"Are you sure you want them to hear?"

Suddenly, the intrigue that has built up in Steve increases in height exponentially. Just what is this meeting about?

Tony doesn’t miss a beat in his nonchalance. "That’s what they’re here for."

It is only then does Fury re-route back to the path the other laid a moment earlier. "Another body has been found in the Arctic."

Natasha, who is supporting her head with her hand, reacts faster than his ability to fully comprehend the new information. "And that concerns us how?"

As is Tony, it seems like. "Technically, it only needs to concern me since I’m the only one formally called over," he interjects matter-of-factly. "You lot just decided to follow me."

"In our defense," it’s Sam’s turn to join the conversation on behalf of the rest of them, "it was a hasty decision. And we certainly can’t make good ones without some caffeine."

The not-so-subtle request for coffee goes unheard — purposely ignored, more like — by the S.H.I.E.L.D. director’s ears. He talks directly to the only person he actually invited. "As I told you over the phone, we have reasons to believe she’s connected to your godmother specifically."

Steve, for the life of him, can’t recall who Tony’s godmother is amidst the somnolent fog in his brain that is yet to completely clear. He remembers the other mentioning it in passing before, just not who it is.

"I’m assuming you’ve got some proof now?"

In lieu of verbally answering, Fury just hands over a manila envelope. Tony proceeds to lay out its contents on the coffee table for them to look over as well.

Everyone seems to snap awake after comprehending the photographs that now lay before them.

Each one of the photos has a girl, who can’t be older than sixteen, lying inside a large block of ice. She looks comfortable with her eyes closed, as if she’s slumbering and cannot be bothered by anything around her.

Her clothes and accessories are notably from an era that already came to pass decades ago. Her otherwise long, straight dark hair is curled and is resting somewhat neatly behind her. Her fair skin seems to have maintained its normal pigment despite being in the ice for — based on her dated clothes — quite awhile. Frankly, she reminds Steve of a Disney movie he saw Wanda, Pietro, and Peter watch once. Snow White.

But, above all, her facial structure uncannily resembles someone he used to know a long, long time ago.

"She looks like Peggy," he blurts before he can think too much about it. It’s not like there’s anything to second guess, anyway, as her uncanny resemblance is undeniable. He knows it with utmost certainty, as Peggy’s photo from the newspaper clipping he cut then still resides in his compass.

He can’t remove it now, given its age and fragility, but it’s not like he wants to. He put it there for a reason — and that still hasn’t changed even if a lifetime has passed.

"Okay." Tony claps his hands rather loudly, which effectively brings Steve out of his reverie and simultaneously catches everyone’s attention. "I think it’s time for that coffee break Wilson was talking about."

Notes:

some tmi before i disappear on the face of the earth again for who knows how long: i actually wrote this simultaneously with two other works && i somehow finished this one first. maybe it's bc i technically already have most of the dialogue && the events down, but still. i think that's a feat.

not sure when the next update will be, since my muse is still lowk heavy on rpf for f1, but apparently i can be guilt-tripped into updating, so— only time will tell, i suppose.

until then, take care! <3

(for anyone who wants to interact or doesn't mind interacting, i got a question for you: should peggy still be alive from this point? the original published draft of this has her dead, but i can reconsider it for this rewrite.)

Chapter 12: shell xii

Notes:

heya! i'm back with another chapter! nothing much to blabber about this time, except: this is shorter than i thought it would be? maybe that's why it finished relatively quicker than i thought (i say onto the mic as if it wasn't almost two months since the last update).

anyway, i hope you enjoy reading! <3

Steve returns to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters with a breakfast-full stomach and caffeine-induced attention. He knows better than to expect Tony to willingly seek S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria coffee, but he didn’t expect the latter to make them drive to the nearest 24-hour diner at 4 o’clock in the morning.

Thankfully, the fifteen-minute drive wasn’t just for a mug of coffee. Tony, who most likely has a better sense of how long they’ll be at S.H.I.E.L.D., made the call for an early breakfast.

Unfortunately, while the empty diner had been the perfect place to confer, Tony had been adamant about not giving them what they wanted. He shot all their burning questions with a plain "no shop talk outside of the shop."

So, there they are almost two hours later: Back at S.H.I.E.L.D. as clueless as they were when they left.

"Now that’s out of the way," Clint vaguely refers to their breakfast shenanigans as he plumps down on a swivel chair, "spill it, Stark."

But, of course, Tony isn’t one to give in easily. "I think you mean Fury," he skillfully redirects the attention to the S.H.I.E.L.D. director. "What have you managed to find on the Princess?"

"‘The Princess’?" Natasha calls out the nickname he chooses for the unknown teenager from the Arctic. "We get wild nicknames and she gets a simple one?"

"I would like to sleep without people haunting me, thank you very much." His dismissal just adds to their confusion, but he doesn’t seem to care.

"We’re still running her blood," Director Fury answers when no one else chimes in to question Tony. "Right now, we’re prematurely exploring her possible relation to Director Carter."

Steve nods supportively, seeing the rationale behind S.H.I.E.L.D.’s course of action.

"You think I can help with that," Tony states with utmost confidence. It’s not a question, nor a shot in the dark. He knows it for certain — and there’s really no need for Fury to respond.

"I know you can," Fury corrects. "You were close with your godmother."

"Yeah, way back when," Tony rebuts vaguely.

(Un)Fortunately, the S.H.I.E.L.D. director merely dismisses his rebuttal. "My point still stands."

However, instead of insisting on the wrongness of the belief that resulted in his ungodly summon, the genius billionaire just changes the focus back on track. "Is she alive?"

In another world, there’ll only be one answer to that question. After all, exposure to freezing temperatures may lead to deadly cases of hypothermia. Especially for everyone who has been exposed for elongated periods like she is.

The only reason Tony’s inquiry is still valid in this world is because of Steve himself. He’s literally a living proof of his question’s validity and, as such, the billionaire is well within his sanity to check.

"Yes," Fury affirms. "Unlike Captain Rogers, however, she’s been in a critical condition ever since she was thawed."

"How long does she have?" Natasha wastes no time in following up.

"If her condition continues to deteriorate, she has a week at most."

The news settles unsteadily. It’s a cruel fate, to survive an undetermined number of years in ice just to die days after rescue. Especially to someone so young, too.

Her miraculous survival — albeit projectively short — surely raises a lot of questions. Especially since, as far as Steve’s aware, it was the serum that let him survive being in the ice for as long as he did.

It’ll be nice if they already have something concrete on her. But, alas, all they have are theories, suspicions, and Tony’s sealed lips.

"Then we must move quickly."

❅❅❅

Tangents are inevitable with people trying to avoid talking about something. Most especially if ‘people’ refers to Tony, of all people.

Which is quite ironic, considering he’s the one who urged them to "move quickly" after hearing the short time frame they’re working with.

"Have you checked her eyes?" Tony asks another disconnected question about the girl from the Arctic for the nth time. "What color are they?"

"Their color weren’t noted, but I’m assuming they were checked when her responsiveness was." Fury, for his part, continues to entertain his questions. "Her eye color is the least of our concerns."

Tony doesn’t seem to agree, based on the tune of his hum alone. "Her eye color might very well determine if she needs some medication injected."

Steve personally doesn’t see the correlation, but Tony’s conviction is unyielding. The latter knows exactly what he’s talking about, and he’s not willing to be swayed otherwise.

Nor is he inclined to fill them in without prompt, it turns out.

Thankfully, Bruce eventually takes one for the team. "You’re hiding something," he says with more conviction than accusation. Steve believes him, solely because the other is perhaps the closest to Tony out of everyone present. "What is it, Tony?"

The genius philanthropist hesitates. For a moment, Steve almost believes not even Bruce can elicit a straight response. Thankfully, however, that isn’t the case. "Before Aunt Peggy was married, she adopted a baby."

He unconsciously holds his breath. He has known Peggy got married sometime between his icy slumber and his miraculous awakening. It was one of the first things he learned as he adjusted to his new life, along with how she and the rest of his team lived on. However, neither her interview for Smithsonian or her S.H.I.E.L.D. files mentioned any children.

"Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’?" Clint’s voiced concern mirrors his — and everyone else’s in the room. They note the spike of uneasiness in Tony’s posture. "Is there?"

Steve dreads Tony’s answer before he even hears it. "But she was kidnapped when she was twelve. She hadn’t been seen since."

The atmosphere changes completely as soon as he finishes his response. He exhales through his mouth, but his expression remains grim. Without looking around the room, Steve knows everyone is wearing similar expressions.

The knowledge doesn’t lighten the load pressing down on them. If anything, it just made it worse— heavier.

Especially for Steve. "You think the girl they found in the Arctic is Peggy’s daughter?"

"It’s plausible."

"It’d explain why she looks a lot like Director Carter."

The dreadful speculation merely settles for a second, as Bucky’s skepticism cuts it short. "But how? Didn’t you say she was adopted?"

Right. Somehow, that already slipped his mind.

He can’t really blame himself for doing so. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Peggy had a daughter she lost too early. It must’ve been difficult for her, on top of what she already been through.

Tony’s hesitation doesn’t loosen up. "Her legacy, amongst anything else, is her uncanny resemblance to her adoptive mother."

He has no reason to contest that. But, apparently, Sam does — just not in the way he unknowingly expected. "There’s something else."

What else are you hiding? rings all around them without being spoken.

Unfortunately, Tony reinstalls the wall he had before and keeps them out. "I already said too much."

Notes:

basically, here's what happened —
everyone in the room: "tony, tell us everything you know."
tony: "i don't want to get haunted, thank you very much."

'til the next update! take care :]