Agent Carter

Hearing Peggy say it out loud – that was a relief. It was a relief to hear that it went both ways because if Peggy said it, it was true. And that eased something – a crack, maybe? He trusted her, trusted her judgment, trusted how well she knew him, how well she knew Tony. The man was important to him, his friend – however things had gone, that was the truth. And Steve was sorry he’d hurt his friend, that his choices and actions had caused pain to someone he had a great deal of respect for. He wanted to earn that friendship back, wanted to earn the man’s trust again.

He wanted a lot and maybe none of it was fair, especially with everyone’s circumstances being slightly complicated at the moment. He wanted a lot anyway. Never let it be said Steve Rogers couldn’t be selfish.

The suggestion of dinner had his brows quirking up, surprised. It seemed simple, too simple. Should it be that simple? The questions were probably all over his face, which was fine. He did look a bit skeptical, admittedly, about the notion of sharing stores about Howard. Peggy might get away with that, but it had been a point of… awkwardness with he and Tony. That said – Peggy usually knew what she was talking about.

“Okay,” Steve said slowly, looking over at the flip phone. And oh, he was well aware it was a ridiculous phone. “I’m not mentioning that we’re having meatloaf until we’re actually sitting down though,” he said, a half-laugh threaded through his voice. “I’ve seen that green juice stuff he drinks.” After a deep breath, though, he reached for the phone, then paused with it in his hand, blue eyes flitting up to lock onto Peggy’s brown ones. “I want to make things right,” he said quietly, and he already knew it wasn’t that simple. But, he wanted to try.

Peggy had no idea what the green stuff was that Tony was drinking, and from the look on Steve’s face she was glad for that. She gave his hand a squeeze, getting up to leave him to talk to Tony on his own. They were both grown men and should be able to have a reasonable conversation. “I’m going to the market to get supplies for dinner,” she told him as she bent over and kissed the corner of his mouth, and then spoke into the phone, “If you don’t come to dinner, Tony, I shall be hurt.” Because sometimes a little motherly guilt went a lot further than adult conversation.

***

With two shopping bags in one hand, Peggy let herself back in and headed for the little kitchen. Fortunately they were in her flat and not Steve’s, so she knew where everything was, not that she cooked often. She was reminded of how horrible she was at baking when she was faced with the loss of the baking pan that would’ve been perfect for the meatloaf. It died a tragic death on Steve’s birthday when she’d failed cake.

“Oh well, I’ll just use the other one.” The other one was heart-shaped instead of round. She’d bought it on a whim, thinking she’d attempt a cake again for Valentine’s Day now that she’d learned to use Youtube for cooking lessons. Peggy adored the technology of the 21st century.

“I know.” He said it, meant it. His throat felt dry, uncomfortable, but he was able to breathe a little easier, to speak a little easier, as he focused on the thread of their fingers together. Warm, solid, real and alive and there. “I would have,” he said, and he meant that, too. And it didn’t really make a difference because it didn’t change what had happened, not for Tony. Steve knew that.

If there was anything Steve knew, though, it was that he couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t alter events that had already taken place. He couldn’t stop Howard and Maria from going down that road.

There were things that Steve didn’t know how to stop blaming himself for. He looked over at Peggy now and he remembered sitting in a broken shell, broken glasses, pieces of wood everywhere, and a glass with alcohol that wouldn’t even touch the edge of his pain. He could have – could have gone back. He could have checked, could have found Bucky and stopped him from every being picked up by Hydra. He could have found him sooner, could have stopped dancing on a damn stage, could have honored Dr. Erskine’s memory sooner and Bucky might have never even been picked up. Maybe. He could have told Tony the moment he realized. And he couldn’t change any of that.

Lingering on that, on all of it – Steve was great at lingering. Self-blame? Even better. But, there were things to do, steps to take. There was only forward, and he nodded, now, as Peggy spoke. She’d said before that he had to respect Bucky’s choice to stay with him, in the war, that he’d believed in Steve. Refusing to honor that would have been a disservice to Bucky’s memory. Steve didn’t know what had fueled Bucky’s strength, what had helped him fight. He was just glad it was there.

He kept his eyes on hers, watchful, and he blew out a soft breath. His smile was wry. He – yeah, he wasn’t entirely sure Tony believed in him, not anymore. But her? “Of course he believes in you.” Steve looked down at their hands. Together. After seventy years, after incredible odds that had never been in their favor, they were right there, together. And he was still listening to Peggy. “We’ll talk,” he said quietly. He knew there was no going back to what they’d had. That was impossible. Trust had to be earned, and an injured friendship was something that had to be rebuilt.

Steve was silent for a moment, then he reached out, tracing her fingers with his other hand. Slowly, he stopped on the ring finger, traced the spot at the base of her finger. He started to say something, then stopped, swallowed, and sighed. After a moment, his hand fell away, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a flip phone that looked like it belonged in another decade. Carefully, he laid it down on the seat beside him. “You still believe in me,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how long it would have taken me to get off that stage if you hadn’t.” He shook his head. “I know how to fight my way in, fight my way out. I don’t know how to fix this. Where do I even start?”

Steve’s worry for their friend was a solid presence in the room, and she was too caught up in helping his heart heal to notice his actions. Touching her ring finger that for decades had worn another man’s ring when it should have been his or getting excited about what he was pulling out of his pocket. But if he did it again, when he wasn’t fretting about Tony, she might get her hopes up. She couldn’t help it. She loved him. Always had.

His not knowing what to do or even where to start was proof that Steve Rogers was still one of the best men she’d known in her entire long life. Steve wasn’t afraid of contacting Tony for the typical reasons of being too prideful to make the first move, or because he couldn’t accept that he was partially responsible for the situation—not that Peggy thought Steve should take any of the blame—he simply didn’t want to hurt his friend more than he already had.

“You love him, and he loves you.” Peggy would forever be grateful for Tony Stark. Not because he’d made her young again, but because he’d been there to help Steve adapt to the 21st century. Tony was there. He could do what she couldn’t. And their mutual love for Howard, although Tony did have some baggage where his father as concerned that she’d never been able to ferret out, helped to cement their bond.

He looked at her like she might have all the answers. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to ask her, to unload on her, and he knew that. But,he still looked at her like she might just have them because it was Peggy – because there was no one more capable, more able to find something that might make all of this better. He already knew there wasn’t anything that could make what had happened disappear. The truth was that he wouldn’t choose that if he could. He’d made his own choices, just as Tony – just as everyone – had. The way things were didn’t make either of them wrong, maybe.

Steve smiled, soft and maybe a bit tired, and he blew out a soft breath. It wasn’t a laugh but it was closer than he’d managed to get in a while. “Wise in my old age,” he repeated, though it was mostly just mouthing the words – no real sound making it to the surface. It wasn’t sarcastic, though; it was grateful.

And he knew there were things – similarities – between Tony and Howard. Bringing that up to the man… now, that was a minefield. It didn’t change the truth. And it didn’t make it hurt any less. Tony was his own man – someone Steve respected, someone he liked and cared about. And he was, perhaps, someone just as stubborn as Steve was, which made things damn complicated.

Looking up, Steve met Peggy’s warm brown eyes. He listened as she spoke, wincing. Grief, the anger fueled by it, wasn’t always reasonable or kind. Steve understood that. He’d understood it in Siberia, even if he’d been unable to stand by an allow it to play out. No, he never could have done that. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly – for what had happened, between him and Tony, between Peggy and Tony. For Howard, for Maria, for a young man who’d lost his parents. “I should have told him,” he said – not for the first time, his voice tired.

He would go to Siberia again, in the same circumstances, would keep Bucky safe. Always. But, he knew he should have told Tony the truth, everything he knew. “I don’t think it’s as simple as saying that.” There was a soft wince as he looked up. The truth, the apology that went with it, wouldn’t make things go back to the way they were. Only time could do that, time and interaction, communication – things Steve wasn’t always great at in the best of circumstances. And right now? Well, they weren’t operating in the best of circumstances.“ "Complicated,” he muttered, and he reached out to curl his hand over the top of Peggy’s.

“Steve,” she said as he turned her hand over to lace their fingers together and scooted a bit closer, so she could feel the warmth of him through their trousers. “It’s not as if you knew the entire time. You were frozen—remember? You didn’t deliberately keep the truth from Tony. I think you would’ve told him had you had the chance.”

How different their lives would have been if Steve hadn’t been gone for so long. In the past, before Tony gave her, her youth back, she’d fantasized about the life she’d have lead. A life where Steve was the man she married. Steve who was the father of their children. In all likelihood she’d have still grown older than he. As it was they didn’t know how Steve would age, so there was no telling if they’d have been grey together or not.

But had he been there, she had no doubt HYDRA never would have destroyed SHIELD from within. He’d have been able to keep a keen eye out when she got too old—too distracted—and then there was Bucky…

@callmeagent

     “I should call him.” It wasn’t really a statement so much as a question. That said, it wasn’t really a question, either. Steve wasn’t sure what it was – and for a guy who was really used to being sure about absolutely everything… It sat uncomfortably. A lot of things did, though. They’d been grinding into something that itched at the skin since Siberia. If he was honest, it went earlier, but pinning it down? That was impossible – or maybe just not something he really wanted to pin down.

     Steve walked into the room and stopped, turning his face toward Peggy. Then, slowly, he moved to sit down, dropping down like he was moving through water. When he finally got seated, he slapped the top of his knees and shook his head, brows quirked. His expression was a mix of uncertainty and frustration. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

She cared. She knew Steve cared and the rest of the Avengers and those parts of SHIELD that hadn’t been tainted. But it hurt to see them caught in the middle of the chaos and fighting with each other—especially when both were right and wrong at the same bloody time.

“Steve,” she said, turning slightly on the sofa and resting her hand on his knee. It was so good to be able to talk and touch him. It’d been odd in the beginning, but now she’d gotten used to it and it was wonderful. “You are the least dramatic person I know. You’re kind, considerate, and you’ve even gotten to be a bit wise in your old age.” That was said with a bright smile and a squeeze of his leg.

No, Steve was not bulletproof. He’d found that out the hard way, more than once. But, he trusted Peggy, knew damn well she’d find the right spot. And – if she couldn’t – she’d do what needed to be done. She was one the strongest, most remarkable people he’d ever known. It kept him able to stay entirely focused on the creature – which was good, since those very sharp, very fierce-looking teeth tried damn hard to rip out a piece of him.

His eyes stayed locked on the creatures face, though he could hear something happening – footsteps shuffling on the floor. When Peggy ran forward, Steve saw her coming – a flash of color mixed in with the shadows. Even the showering dust coming down couldn’t distract him from seeing her as the glass shattered over the creatures body and face.

Stumbling a bit, Steve moved back, watching as the creature went up in flames. It was horrible. The sounds were more than enough for him to feel a sharp pang of pity for the creature. He glanced over, refusing to look away as the creature fell to the ground, even as his stomach jerked sharply. When he heard Peggy’s voice, he swallowed, breathing in and out through his opened mouth. It made his  throat feel raw, uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m okay.” His entire body shifted as he turned to look at her, reaching out to curl a hand in at the curve of her shoulder. “Are you?” His brows quirked, casting a play of shadows over his face. “I’m thinking that might have been our cue to get back up to the surface.”

She was fine, and she shouldn’t be. Peggy was breathing hard, but not as hard as she should’ve been. Even at her best physical condition, when she’d been training with the SSR, she hadn’t been able to move the way she did with the creature, and she didn’t think it was adrenaline making that big of a difference. Looking at her hands she tried to find any cuts from breaking the bottle, but there were none. She wasn’t bruised from anything either. And she should be.

“Goddamn it, Tony,” she swore under her breath before letting out a deep sigh. “Whatever he gave me, Steve. I’m not just young again.” It’d been over a month. She hadn’t felt herself losing control. No need to crush, kill, or destroy churned in her soul. She still felt like Peggy Carter, secret agent, defender of the weak and protector of justice, so at least that was all right.

Steve had seen enough since waking up from the ice to know that throwing off the very idea of an actual dragon being down there might not be the smartest thing to do. the fact was, though, he really didn’t think it was a damn dragon. What it was – he wasn’t sure, but he could see that it looked like the shots weren’t doing a hell of a lot. That was worrisome.

As Peggy sprang back, Steve moved forward, first kicking out to get some distance, to hopefully cause some damage. Then, when he got a better look and saw more sharp than soft, he swerved to the side. His next hit was to the base of a wall, aiming to bring down some of support over the creature’s head. A hit to the front might not do a lot of damage, but the top or back of the head? If it didn’t hurt the damn thing, it might immobilize it enough for them to find a soft spot somewhere.

“I’m not seeing one,” he gritted out as he ducked an arm. His eyes slid over to Peggy, gaze shifting over her to see that she was fine and that he wasn’t getting in the way of her shots. “Behind,” Steve offered, hoping like hell he was right. And, as a chunk of the ceiling – already more unstable than he’d like, considering he and Peggy were still far deeper down than he was comfortable with – fell down on the creature, causing it to screech – a sound that was more metallic than anything, Steve ducked, taking the thing’s attention (and rage) with him.

Steve pushed forward, getting in the creature’s range, and grabbed its arms, fighting its considerable strength as he waited for Peggy to, hopefully, find a soft spot he hadn’t been able to find, himself, yet. “Any luck?” He was hopeful. It was his birthday, after all. And, as the thought filtered through is brain, he heard a rumbling that sounded too much like it was coming from unstable ceiling over their heads.

With Steve wrestling the thing, Peggy had to be extremely careful not to shoot him. Steve Rogers was not bulletproof, and he didn’t have his shield slung over his arm, which was a shame since she thought it might do some damage to Godzilla—who was apparently bulletproof. Sixty years ago, she’d have some gadget from the SSR. But now she had to use her brain. At least it slowed down when the ceiling and wall hit it.

She chewed on the back of her lip, trying to study the creature beyond its very nasty teeth. It had small ears like a lizard, and its eyes were large and reflective like a cat’s. But she just didn’t know what she could do about it other than to get closer.

As she crouched before moving closer, she bumped against a bottle of amber liquid from the overturned desk. Someone kept a bottle for stressful evenings, and finally Peggy had a weapon that might be of some use. She hefted the bottle of bourbon and ran forward to smash it across the beast’s face.

The glass shattered, and the booze splashed over its head and chest. Luckily, there was a lighter in the gear she’d been given, and set a pad of paper on fire that she flung at it. Peggy shouted for Steve to let go as the monster let out a blood curdling scream of pain, before running out the way they’d come in, leaving claw marks in the tiles and bits of scorched flesh.