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mhalachaiAt AO3
Summary: Steve Rogers died in the War. For Peggy Carter, the War was just the beginning.
Rating: Mature
Characters: Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, Maria Stark, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Phil Coulson, Nick Fury, Original Characters
Pairings: Peggy/Howard, Peggy/Steve, Peggy/Natasha, Peggy/Howard/Maria...
Warnings: Canon character deaths, dysfunctional family dynamics
Words: 5,300 this part
Disclaimer: This is fanfic, I own nothing of the characters/worlds/franchises etc. All recognizable characters belong to their creators etc.
Note: This chapter does focus on some F/F action, so don't proceed if that offends your sensibilities. If the idea of Peggy Carter/Natasha Romanova is your cup of tea, however, let's go... PS devushka is Russian for little girl.
Hawaii was irritatingly sunny for December. Of course, Peggy reflected as she sat on the patio of her hotel pool, Hawaii was always irritatingly sunny. Over the years, she'd been on assignment three time on these islands, and every time the weather had been bright and warm and annoyingly perfect.
Knowing that Howard or Maria would never be able to join her in Hawaii, made it even worse.
The funeral had been four days ago; Peggy had been in Honolulu for three. She spent the days pretending to be a tourist; at night she sat up in her hotel room staring out the window, unable to sleep for longer than an hour at a time. No sooner did she nod off before her mind hauled her back to consciousness with screaming nightmares of car crashes and fire and death.
Still, there wasn't anything to go back to. The dissolution of the Soviet Union was continuing, albeit sluggishly. From what Peggy saw in the papers and read between the lines on the television broadcasts, it seemed that usual suspects were keeping their heads down and waiting for the dust to settle before trying anything.
Peggy wasn't surprised. She had spent over a decade picking off the more unstable intelligence operatives, not all of them on the other side. The previous year, she'd authorized a mission that ended in the death of one particularly unhinged Soviet agent. The man was a liability to anyone on either side of the Cold War; the whole of Europe had breathed a sigh of relief at his death.
Peggy was never the one to pull the trigger, but the missions and the agents involved were all Peggy's creations. She'd killed those men and women as sure as if she'd been standing in the room with them.
And this is what you've become, Howard would have said. Howard was the only one who understood what she did, for the sake of country and of peace. Howard understood, because he was very much the same sort of man.
But now, Howard was dead, and who was left to understand Peggy?
She left the pool to the screaming tourists and headed out into the city.
She'd already done the usual tourist haunts. The previous day, she'd lasted nearly an hour at the Pearl Harbor memorial before the ghosts of the War drove her into the salt-tinged air, skin crawling and sick to her stomach with memories of the dead.
It didn't help that everywhere she went, she was reminded of Howard.
Not Maria. Not yet. Peggy had been preparing for Howard's death for years; probably since the day she met him in 1940. It had been war, and they'd both known that one of them would have to go first.
But not Maria. That wasn't how it was supposed to go.
So Peggy sat on the bus with the rest of the tourists, obediently disembarked at the botanical gardens, walked around and looked at the flowers and all she could think was how much Maria would have enjoyed this.
Once, as Peggy was bending to look closer at a plant, a thin sliver-blue whisper plucked at her attention. She turned her head, her hand already going for the knife she had hidden in purse, but nothing presented itself as a threat. Nothing seemed out of place.
Peggy couldn't shake the disquiet that followed her all afternoon. Every time she turned around, everything was as it should be.
Peggy should have done the sensible thing; tuck herself into a safe house and call for SHIELD backup.
But Howard and Maria were dead and Peggy was the only one left. To hell with the sensible thing.
As darkness fell on the island, Peggy went back to her hotel. She pulled on a slinky black dress, put on a lipstick so red it made the bellboy trip over his feet on the way to get the door for her, and made her way to one of the city's most exclusive nightclubs.
There she sat, sipping on expensive cocktails and fending off potential suitors until the wee hours, when the threat finally made itself known.
Out from the crowd on the dance floor emerged the woman, short and curvaceous in all the right ways, her blood-red hair gleaming under the club's shimmering lights. One would have to look closely to see the strength in the muscles shifting under her skin, the mind of a killer hidden behind brilliant green eyes.
The Black Widow.
Peggy waited as the woman walked up the steps, attracting attention from everyone in the club. Peggy found herself smiling in greeting, more a baring of the teeth from behind red-stained lips.
"Margaret," the other woman said, voice barely audible over the music. She stopped by Peggy's side, so close that her hip brushed Peggy's shoulder as she leaned down to kiss the air beside Peggy's cheek.
"Natasha," Peggy said in response as Natasha Romanova, the deadliest Soviet agent Peggy ever faced, slid into the empty chair to Peggy's left. Peggy raised her glass in a mock toast. "I've been waiting for you."
It wasn't entirely accurate; Peggy had known she was being followed, but had no idea that it had been the Black Widow on her trail.
And why now? The Soviet Union was in pieces; intelligence agencies around the world on lock-down until everything settled. Why was the KGB's best agent be in Hawaii?
Peggy waited while Natasha arranged her tiny purse on the table, ordered a drink from the waitress, then sat back to watch the dancers. "You didn't see me today," the woman finally said.
Peggy took a sip from her glass. "Once upon a time, I spent a great deal of effort figuring you out," she said, casting her mind back to the young woman Natasha had once been. "It's not something one just forgets."
Natasha raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Peggy, but refrained from comment. She accepted her martini from the waitress and took a long drink. "That was a very long time ago," she eventually said.
"Have you forgotten any of it?" Peggy asked.
Natasha smiled, an expression both predatory and promising. "No more that you have, Margaret."
The song on the speakers shifted to another, the dancing continued on the floor below. Peggy was very aware of the nearness of the woman beside her, her body warm through her thin dress as she pressed in at Peggy's side.
Peggy's fingers tightened around the stem of her glass as she kept her breathing even. Natasha Romanova was a very beautiful woman, and even the fact that she was probably going to try to kill Peggy wasn't enough to keep Peggy from reacting to her presence.
Or maybe that was why Peggy's heart was racing. It had been decades since Natasha last tried to kill Peggy. Peggy still had the scar from their last encounter, a thin curve of raised skin under her breast from the upward thrust of Natasha's blade into her chest, just barely missing her heart.
Peggy wet her lips, tasting the sweet-sour tang of her drink and the red of her lipstick, and wondered how Natasha would come for her this time.
Natasha took another drink from her glass, tilting her head back to expose her throat. She set the glass on the table and leaned closer to Peggy with a smile. "There are a lot of people who are very angry with you these days," Natasha said, the smile on her face belying the dagger-sharp animosity in her voice. "How does it feel to have toppled an empire?"
A chill crawled down Peggy's spine at the malice in Natasha's words, but she kept her eyes on the dance floor. "I did no such thing and you know it, devushka," Peggy said.
Natasha's eyes narrowed at the word and the first cracks appeared in her expression, showing her anger. "You think we don't know what you did?" Natasha said, close enough now for her lips to brush Peggy's ear. "You've spent decades trying to rip the Soviet Union to pieces, all for your precious West—"
"I've been trying to prevent nuclear war," Peggy interrupted. Anger stirred hot in her belly. The only reason she didn't haul back and punch Natasha was that they were in public and she had no desire to be arrested. "For forty-six years, everything I've done has been to keep us from a nuclear war—"
"Is that what you tell yourself?" Natasha demanded, sitting back and picking up her empty glass.
Peggy stared at the woman for a long moment. "I've seen the plans of what would happen if your side had launched your weapons first," Peggy said, not caring if anyone overheard. It didn't really matter anymore. "Care to guess how many of your citizens would have been wiped out in the first three hours?"
"This is how you justify yourself," Natasha snapped. "You play people like puppets on a string and say it's all for peace? Who said you should play as a god?"
Their argument was starting to attract unwarranted attention. Peggy smiled as she picked up her drink. "Have any idea who could do it better, love?"
Natasha snatched up her purse and stalked away, shoving her way through the crowd. Peggy watched her go, suddenly feeling exhausted and old. There were so few people left who remembered the past, and with Howard dead, all Peggy had left were enemies.
She finished her drink and stood up to leave when the waitress hurried over. "Excuse me," the girl said apologetically, "But your friend left without paying for her drink."
Peggy sighed, and reached into her purse for some money.
The air outside the club hit Peggy like a shock, clean and cool and quiet. With a shiver, she headed down the sidewalk toward the taxi stand.
A red-headed woman was waiting there, leaning against a parked car smoking a cigarette. Natasha watched Peggy walk toward her, motionless except for the rise and fall of her chest as she exhaled.
"It was never like you to run out on the tab," Peggy observed, pulling her cigarette case from her purse.
Natasha offered her lighter to Peggy. "You can afford it."
Peggy raised an eyebrow as she lit the cigarette. "Is there some reason you're standing around in the dark?" she asked around the first mouthful of smoke.
"I'm not waiting for an accomplice, if that's what you're asking." Natasha flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Go away."
Peggy looked closely at Natasha. In the harsh light from the street lights and the neon blue glare from a nearby window, Peggy could see that the woman had faint circles under her eyes, that she stood favoring her left leg. Peggy wondered when Natasha had last slept.
Peggy took one last pull on the cigarette and flicked the thing into the street. "Come on," she said, turning toward the corner where a few cabs stood waiting.
"Where?" Natasha asked. She didn't move.
"I'm on vacation," Peggy said over her shoulder. "I'm going back to my hotel. Coming or not?"
Peggy had her hand on the cab's door handle when she heard the tap-tap of high-heels behind her, and she smiled.
~~~
The room was dark when Peggy turned the key in the hotel room door, Natasha standing a decorous distance from her. It was close to three in the morning, the time of night when the human body struggled to stay conscious, and none of the hotel staff had so much as batted an eye as Natasha and Peggy had walked through the lobby.
Natasha had said little in the cab, just stared out the window, her fingers worrying the clasp of her tiny purse.
But now, as Peggy closed the door of the hotel room, there were no prying eyes, no pretences to keep up.
Well. Perhaps only those with each other.
Peggy turned the deadbolt in the lock and slid the chain into place. Natasha was a warm presence in the darkness, standing just behind Peggy, and she didn't protest when Peggy pushed her hard against the wall and kissed her. Peggy tangled her hand in Natasha's hair and when Natasha broke the kiss, Peggy pulled Natasha's head back and licked a line down Natasha's throat. Natasha let out a sharp moan and dug her fingers into Peggy's arms, tightening her grip until Peggy let go of Natasha's hair.
They stood like that for a time, breathing heavily in the dark. It had been decades since Peggy had taken any woman other than Maria to her bed, and she'd forgotten how it could feel, that illicit thrill somehow different from being with a man, of soft skin and curves, the shiver down her spine that came from small hands curving around her waist.
It hadn't really been like that with Maria; at first because Howard was always there, then later, when it was just the two of them when Howard was away, it had felt indescribably right.
Only now Maria was dead and Peggy would never have her back again.
Peggy rested her head on Natasha's shoulder. All the anger and grief she'd held back over losing Maria churned up in her stomach, making her sick, making her furious. Peggy couldn't even mourn Maria properly; she'd been another man's wife. No one knew what there had been between Peggy and Maria and Howard. If they did, they wouldn't understand.
"Shh," Natasha whispered, running her hands down Peggy's back. She kissed Peggy on the cheek until Peggy lifted her head, then she kissed Peggy's lips softly. "Come with me."
"Where?" Peggy asked. She should turn on the lights, tell Natasha to leave, spend another night alone. But she stayed where she was, pressed against Natasha in the darkened hallway.
Natasha tilted Peggy's head back and kissed a line down Peggy's throat before flicking her tongue along Peggy's collarbone. "I'll make it not hurt so much," she promised, before taking hold of Peggy's hand and pulling her across the room to the bed.
Peggy wanted to tell Natasha that nothing would make this hurt any less, but she couldn't manage to form the words as Natasha slipped Peggy's dress off her shoulders to the floor, pushed Peggy to the bed and slid against her, skin on skin, touching and tasting until Peggy choked back a cry as she came.
It took her a few minutes to get her breath back, Natasha curled up at her side. "What was that about?" Peggy asked eventually.
Natasha slid her leg over Peggy's thigh, the friction making Peggy shiver. "You think you're the only one who's lost everything?" she asked, her Russian accent coloring her words for the first time.
Peggy reached out and turned on the bedside lamp. Natasha blinked in the sudden light. "What do you know about what I've lost?" Peggy asked.
Natasha rolled onto her stomach and stared up at Peggy. "Howard Stark," Natasha said. "The affair between you and him was never really a secret, was it? Even his wife knew."
Peggy lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling, wondering if she was supposed to be angry. All she felt was that sick, bitter sensation in her stomach again. "Of course Maria knew," Peggy said, tired of everything. "She was nearly always there with us."
Natasha moved against Peggy, leaning over her so Peggy had no choice but to look at her. "No one knew that," Natasha said. She traced a finger over Peggy's lips. "You were very good at hiding."
Peggy pushed Natasha away and sat up, pulling her knees against her chest. "It doesn't matter," she muttered.
Maria was dead. Howard was dead. The only people who remembered the past were people like Natasha Romanova, on the other side of the pretend line in the sand.
One of these days, even her enemies would be dead, and Peggy wouldn't have anyone left.
Peggy pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked down at Natasha, lying on the bed. Even worn-out and exhausted, the woman was breathtakingly beautiful.
And Peggy wasn't dead yet.
Peggy ran her hand down Natasha's side, from breast to hip, watching in satisfaction as Natasha's eyes darkened. Peggy didn't know if it was an honest reaction or an act, and for the time being, she didn't really care.
Leaving the light on, Peggy pulled Natasha underneath her and hoped that, if even for a few minutes, she could use the sensation of Natasha's body against hers to forget.
~~~
Peggy opened her eyes, head pounding and body aching.
"You're awake."
The voice pulled Peggy upright, reaching for a weapon before she registered what was happening. Natasha was lying beside her in the bed, an eyebrow arched in amusement.
Peggy let out a breath. "Why are you still here?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"Because I don't run out after a night of passion," Natasha said pointedly.
Peggy dropped her hand to her lap and glared. "Really, you're on about that? That happened nearly thirty years ago."
Natasha sat up, pushing her hair over her shoulder. "You're surprised that I remembered?"
"Actually, no," Peggy said, looking around for her purse. She needed a cigarette. "I'm surprised that you didn't murder me in my sleep."
Natasha shrugged, a move that was very distracting in her unclothed state. "If I kill you now, I have to go through the trouble of figuring out who SHIELD will replace you with," she pointed out as she slid out of bed. "Far better to know the enemy you have."
Peggy caught Natasha's wrist and pulled her over. "You think you understand me?"
Natasha ran a hand over Peggy's head, tucking a strand of brown hair behind Peggy's ear. "More than you imagine," Natasha said quietly. "Does it matter?"
"Everything matters in this line of work, you know that."
A knock sounded on the door, and they both froze.
"Expecting a visitor?" Natasha asked, pulling back from Peggy. If she went for a weapon now, Peggy would attack, no questions asked.
"Are you?" Peggy shot back.
"You think I want anyone to find me here?" Natasha demanded. Without stopping for clothes, she walked toward the door and looked through the peephole.
Just when Peggy thought Natasha was going to come back into the room, Natasha undid the chain, flipped the deadbolt and pulled open the door, completely naked.
Peggy pulled the sheet up to her chest as the young man on the other side of the door looked down Natasha's body, then back up to make eye contact. "Margaret Carter?" he said.
Natasha turned and walked back into the room, leaving the door wide open. "It's one of yours," she said to Peggy as she shimmied into her dress. Natasha did up the zipper, then retrieved her panties from the floor and pushed them into her purse, stepped into her shoes and walked out the open door without a backwards glance.
Peggy wasn't certain if the act had been for her or the man at the door.
The man glanced after Natasha. "Would you like me to follow her, ma'am?" he asked Peggy.
Peggy pushed her hand against her forehead, feeling her headache returning. "Who are you?" she demanded.
"Agent Phillip Coulson, ma'am," the man said. He made no move to enter the room. "Agent Fury sent me."
Peggy wasn't sure if she believed the man or not, but this whole farce had gone on long enough. "Go wait in the restaurant," she ordered. "And do not follow that woman, I have enough on my plate without needing to tell Nick he's lost another junior agent to the Soviets."
Agent Coulson gave a nod and wordlessly pulled the door closed.
Once the latch clicked, Peggy got out of bed and retrieved her handgun from the bedside table. Holding it at the ready, she went to lock the door. Just in case.
She left the gun on the counter in the bathroom as she showered in case any other unexpected visitors dropped in.
Half an hour and one rather tense phone call later, Peggy made her way across the hotel lobby to the restaurant. Agent Coulson was supping a cup of coffee, seated away from the windows where he could keep an eye on the rest of the room.
"Phillip," Peggy said in something of a greeting, dropping into a chair across from the man. "I talked to Nick about you."
"And?" Agent Coulson asked calmly. He gave off an air of bland normality, a face that could blend into any white American background. There was nothing in his manner that betrayed his military background in black-ops or intelligence gathering that Nick Fury had explained over the phone.
"And he seems to think that I need a new pet project," Peggy said, leaning back in her chair.
The man's expression didn't change. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said.
Peggy rolled her eyes. "What did Nick tell you when he sent you out to Hawaii?"
Agent Coulson reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "I was sent to give you this," he said.
Peggy took the envelope and turned it over. There was no name on the envelope. Slipping a fingernail under the flap on the back, Peggy ripped it open and pulled out the letter inside.
It was from Howard.
June 21, 1988
Peggy,
I've asked SHIELD to make sure this gets delivered to you if I die before you do. Who knows, maybe you've got a similar letter tucked away for me. I'm not sure I want to find out.
I don't want this to turn emotional, so here's why I'm writing this: You're the only person who understands what's really happening out there. I know there have been attempts on my life, on Maria's life, because of what I do for SHIELD and with Stark Industries. When I'm dead, Peggs, I need you to look after Maria and Tony, to protect them both—
Peggy put the letter down on the table and clenched her hand tight in her lap, and breathed in and out until she could push down the wave of grief that threatened to overcome her.
--to protect them both. They're the best things I've ever done, you know that. I may not have been a great father, but Tony's going to do such amazing things, I know it. And I know I don't need to ask you to watch out for Maria.
I'm not sure if I ever thanked you for introducing me to Maria all those years ago. You've always know what I need before I do, and Maria was exactly that.
Sarah's turned into a fine young woman, even if she seems to have inherited your temper. I know I've never said it, God knows I don't have any right to it, but I'm proud of her and what she's done with her life. She doesn't need anything from me, I know that, but if you think it would be wise, please tell her that.
And lastly, Peggs, I want to say that I'm not sorry I died first. It's selfish, but I don't know how I'd make it without you. You keep saying that I didn't love you, but I do. Always have, in some way or another. And considering that it's been nearly fifty years since I met you, that has to count for something, right?
Don't be sad, although I expect you won't be, much. Be angry if you want; I know I would be if you died first. And hell, if someone killed me, please feel free to retaliate with my expression permission. I can rest a bit easier knowing that you'll be my avenging angel after my death.
I love you, Peggy Carter. Keep my family safe.
Yours,
Howard
There was another sheet at the back, in a different ink, written just a month before Howard and Maria had died.
Nov. 19, 1991
Peggy,
All the rest of this still stands, but another request. I haven't heard anything about it in years, but keep an eye on the Tesseract. As far as I know, the project is still in mothballs, but you more than anyone understand that the Tesseract is still a danger, even after all this time. I worry that one day, something bad will happen, and some Director will make the decision that the Tesseract is the lesser evil. You and I both know that would be a very bad idea indeed.
I don't know why this is coming to me now, but I can't shake the feeling that one day, that thing is going to come back to haunt us.
Some days, I wish I'd never found it.
Howard
Peggy folded the letters back together and placed them on the tabletop. Her hand was shaking and she wasn't sure she cared if anyone saw.
"Can I get you some tea?" Agent Coulson asked after a minute. She didn't reply, and he got to his feet to go over to the waitress.
Peggy tapped her fingers against the letter, wondering when Howard would stop upending her world. He'd been arrogant, confident, brilliant and impossible, and Peggy wished she didn't miss him so very much.
She'd unpack the rest of the baggage in the letter at a later time, when she was alone and drunk and didn't feel so horribly abandoned.
After a few minutes, Agent Coulson returned with a pot of tea and a mug. Peggy sat watching him as he poured out the tea, arranged the cup on the saucer, and pushed it across the table.
"Is there anything else?" Coulson asked.
Peggy raised her eyebrow at him. "Sit down and stop managing me," she said.
Obediently, Coulson sat.
With a sigh, Peggy reached for the cup of tea. "Look, this will go a lot easier for both of us if you unclench. This isn't a performance evaluation."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Stop calling me ma'am. You stick out like a sore thumb. Didn't anyone ever teach you how to go unnoticed?"
Coulson's face relaxed, the closest he'd yet come to a smile. "No one notices me when I don't want them to. I have a knack."
Peggy took another sip of the scalding tea. "Knack or not, Agent, I dislike people calling me ma'am. Something to keep in mind if we'll be working together."
"And will we?" Coulson asked, sounding bored by it all. "Be working together."
Peggy rested her elbows on the table and looked Coulson in the eye. "Do you know what it is that I do?"
"I've heard rumors," Coulson said with extreme caution.
"Don't believe anything other people tell you," Peggy said. "On occasion, I get thrown onto special projects. Nick understands that there are times when I need an assistant in order to keep things manageable, as it were."
"And that's why I'm here?" Coulson asked. "To manage things?"
Peggy heard the faint hint of distaste in his voice. So there were flaws in his facade, after all. "You're here because you're a junior in the firm and need more experience in the field."
"I have plenty of experience."
Peggy narrowed her eyes at him. "More relevant experience," she said icily. "Your time in the mailroom doesn't count." Pouring herself another cup of tea, she looked at Coulson expectantly. "Nick said he sent you with a list of projects that need review."
"Yes, ma-- Miss Carter." Coulson folded his hands on the table and looked expectant. "The first project was file number 5483-A3BX," he recited from memory.
The case had been wrapped up in 1987; three dead cocaine dealers found in a hotel room in Cleveland with enough explosives to blow a crater in the city's centre. Peggy had located the rival gang, got the details of their foreign backers, and shut the operation down in under a month. "An accounting problem," Peggy explained, already bored. "Uninteresting then as well as now. Next."
"2976-E9WT," Coulson said.
A Soviet physician with details of the medical procedures used to biologically enhance KGB operatives had defected to the United States. He'd been found in a locked room with his throat slit and no one could figure out how it had happened. The case ended with the discovery of a double agent inside of SHIELD; Peggy still remembered the look of surprise on that man's face when she put a bullet between his eyes.
"Personnel issue," Peggy said shortly. "I believe that Human Resources was involved in that one."
"4320-J6MW."
Peggy wondered if Nick had put any effort into these files at all, or if he was just humoring her. "An underwater training program for sharks with laser beams attached. Moving on."
Coulson's eyebrows went up, obviously wondering what that was a euphemism for, but Peggy was being dead serious.
"Is that everything? Because if is, you can feel free to fly back to wherever you—"
"There is one more file," Coulson interrupted.
"What's the file name?" Peggy asked as she put her empty cup back in its saucer. The adrenaline from the temporary distractions, first the Black Widow and then this junior agent with the unmemorable face, was fading, and Peggy's whole body ached with the remembrance of loss. She wanted to take Howard's letter, go back to her hotel room, and lie on the bed in the darkness for a while.
"There is no file name."
An electric thrill ran down Peggy's spine, instantly pushing all other thoughts in her head aside. There was only one file at SHIELD with no name or number. The information was as invisible and intangible as the subject of the file itself, and Peggy had worked hard to keep it that way.
Very carefully, Peggy released the handle of her teacup and leaned back in her chair. Her hands were not shaking now. "What do you know about that particular file?" she asked. Her breathing was even, not betraying the steady racing of her heart.
"Nothing, Miss Carter," Coulson said. He watched her, obviously aware that something had happened, but clueless as to what. "Just that there's been a bit of activity on that file in the last few days. Would that be the sort of project you'd be interested in reviving?"
Peggy automatically scanned the restaurant, wondering if, even so close to the collapse of the Soviet Union, enemy agents might be about. It was a thought that hadn't occurred to her in many days. "It's best if you return to company headquarters," Peggy said, rising. "I'll join you there within the week."
Coulson also rose. "Is there anything you want me to do in the meantime?" he asked.
Peggy picked up Howard's letter from the tabletop and slid it into her pocket. "Just one thing," she said. "Tell Nick that was very well done indeed."
She turned and walked out of the restaurant. She had a game plan now – go back to her hotel room, pack her belongings, divert to a safe house and leave the Island covertly in a day or so, once Coulson was gone.
Howard and Maria… well. They were dead and nothing would change that. She would mourn them, but not now, not here. She would put her grief into a box in her mind and leave it there to fester, until the project was done and it was safe for Peggy to allow distractions such as grief or emotion back into her life.
She really had to hand it to Nick Fury. She'd told him to leave her alone, and he in turn sent her the one thing he knew was guaranteed to pull her back into the world of SHIELD.
The Winter Soldier was back.
to be continued...