The Avengers
Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.
Summary: Peggy noticed the picture twice before. Once when Stella discreety pulled it out of her pocket in the car on the way to her procedure, and another time tucked in the pages of her sketch book after her show for the remaining 107th. She saw it a third time after Bucky's fall.
Peggy had only just managed to pull Stella away from the edge she was teetering on when she found her moments earlier in the bombed out husk of a London pub and she was eager to get Stella back to the bunkers in the very likely case one pep talk would not erase the enormous loss she'd endured. Peggy wrapped an arm around the other woman and helped her stand, ready to carry her back to the bunkers if she had to. Stella took two steps before she spun around, snatching a sepia photograph off the table from where it sat next to countless empty bottles of booze. Stella held it close to her heart as they continued their way out.
Peggy did not want to ask. Truly, she didn't. She'd known from the second time she saw the photo, tucked in between pages of Stella's sketch book, that there couldn't be a happy story behind it. Part of her had known there couldn't be a happy story behind it even the first time she saw it when Stella quietly pulled it out of her pocket on the way to her procedure. Peggy did not want to ask, especially at a time like this.
But on the way to the bunkers, a wall of a building they were passing caved in. The roar of falling rubble gave both women a small start. In her already fragile state, Stella dropped the photo, and on instinct Peggy jolted to the task of picking it up. Presenting the photo to Stella, who smiled gratefully at her, Peggy knew the topic was now inescapable.
"My son." Stella explained shyly, quickly tucking the photo away in her jacket.
"A beautiful boy." Peggy replied, and it was true. The small toddler in the sepia photograph looked absolutely darling.
"Yeah, well, he was Buck's doppelganger." Stella said with a melancholy smile. "That's what everyone always said, myself included."
"I'm sure there was a bit of you in him." Peggy assured her friend.
Stella smiled bitterly at her. "Too much maybe."
They walked in silence for a moment. It was unbearable with its weight on their shoulders, making every step all the more arduous. "If you're worried about some little boy back stateside being robbed of his father, don't be. Henry was taken by a fever the summer before Pearl Harbor." Stella informed her, the words tumbling off her tongue in their hurry to be said before Stella's voice began to crack.
Peggy could hardly imagine Stella a year before they met. She could imagine her thin as a needle and hacking up a lung thanks to her asthma just fine because of Camp Leigh, but it was hard to wrap her head around the image of a spitfire like Stella with a little boy on her hip, and not just any little boy, but her own son. Still, Peggy did not doubt for a second that Stella had been a good mother.
"I know you and I know how you think, Stella, and that fever wasn't your fault." Peggy stated firmly, looking Stella right in the eye. "I know you weren't the healthiest horse before the serum but you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to Henry. Children get fevers. Sometimes very bad ones. It happens too often."
"You sound like my whole neighborhood when Henry died." Stella muttered. "Couldn't walk down the street without someone stopping me and telling me how wonderful Henry had been and how they adored him, and of course how it wasn't my fault." Stella's lips formed a grim line. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Peg. Saying it wasn't my fault doesn't really stop me from feeling guilty. The exact opposite in fact." She immediately looked regretful and bowed her head shamefacedly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you." She apologized.
"It's all right." Replied Peggy. "He was your son. You have every right to feel how you feel." Peggy hoped her grandmother would forgive her for what she said next. "My grandmother was seventy-two when she died, God rest her soul, and she was mourning my uncle on her death bed. Forty-eight years later and she still felt guilty though my uncle had died in his sleep as a baby and she was in no way at fault." Peggy hoped this anecdote might put Stella at ease, though she knew that the women back in Brooklyn had surely shared similar tales with her in the same vain hope.
"A sick, twisted part of me wishes Henry had went like that. Asleep as a newborn. That sort of thing just happens out of the blue sometimes, right? It's tragic, but at least it's peaceful going in your sleep. Instead, I watched Henry get sicker and sicker until…He hung on for a long time." Stella smiled miserably at her shoes. "When he first got sick, I had to fight to get Henry to stay in bed. Just two years old and already stubborn as a mule, that boy. Bucky told everyone we knew that Henry took after his ma and that he'd bounce back in no time like his ma always did too." The pride lacing those words was as unmistakable as the sorrow in them.
"How old was Henry?" Asked Peggy, hoping to begin slowly moving away from the topic of Henry's passing. "He was two. Eighteen months in the picture. There are more photos and sketches of him back home. I brought this one because it was made to fit in a wallet." Stella answered, taking the picture out once again to smile fondly upon it.
Henry was, as Stella and apparently a sizeable portion of Brooklyn had eloquently put it, his father's doppelganger. Someone might have guessed it was a picture of Barnes as a toddler. Father and son had the same strong features and dark brown hair. Henry's eyes were pale, likely blue like both his parents'. "As I said, a beautiful boy." Peggy said.
"Beautiful what now?" A voice called. Stella and Peggy looked up from the photo to see Howard approaching. Stella put the photo away. "Nothing, Howard." Peggy responded dismissively. "Why are you not barricaded in your lab as usual? Blow it to kingdom come finally?"
"Nope, not yet. I just got a little worried and came to find you, see if things were all right." He explained easily, though he gave Stella an uneasy examination with his acute eyes. "You doin' okay, pal?" He asked her softly. Stella nodded her head. "Thanks to Peggy." She said, smiling at her fellow woman. Peggy felt herself blush some.
"I did my job as a friend, that's all." She said, returning Stella's smile.
"So she and Barnes had a kid. Gees Louise, I didn't even know they were married. Not that I was blind as a bat and didn't see they were together in some fashion." Howard combed a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Poor, Stella. Losing both her boys."
"A married woman waltzing around in skimpy outfit wasn't good for bond sales. They used her maiden name for billing on shows and films and marketed her as unattached in every way. No boyfriend, certainly no husband, and absolutely no children. All of which happened to seep into the propaganda when she started fighting Hydra. They thought being in a romantic relationship would make her look weak and unfit to command a unit of men." Peggy scoffed at the notion. She herself could be married with six children at this very moment and she'd be an even morequalified leader for it. Same went for Stella and every other woman out there. Where did men even get these notions of theirs?
"That's gotta hurt even worse." Said Howard. "Imagine not being able to act like a wife towards your husband because it might hurt morale if guys knew they didn't have a chance in Hell with you once the war was over. And don't even get me started on the kid. I can't even imagine."
"Don't say anything to her. I feel terrible as it is for letting you cajole me into telling you everything." Peggy said. She was no weak link and she wouldn't have said anything even at gun point if not for the fact Howard had been under the impression that what Stella and Bucky had was something as frivolous as Romeo & Juliet. She had to make sure he knew just how important Bucky really was to Stella, otherwise he might have said something stupid to one of his assistants and give everyone the wrong impression.
"I won't, I won't. A man can be sympathetic and discreet at the same time."
"Good." Peggy said, though she promised herself silently to keep a close on Howard just in case. She refused to allow him to leak the truth to the rest of the SSR or the media without Stella's consent. If anyone was going to cause a circus, it was going to be Stella.
"Jesus, Stell would have had to have been twenty at most when she had the kid." Howard suddenly commented, sounding awed. Peggy scowled at him. "Why are you still talking?" She snapped. Howard ignored her. "The kid was two when he died in 41', Stella's about twenty-six now so subtract four years and she's about twenty-two. Subtract two from that and she was twenty, and of course take away nine months and…Wow, I hadn't pegged Stell as that kind of girl." He noticed just then the venomous glare Peggy had pinned on him. He held up his hands in surrender. "Not that kind of girl. Not that there's anything wrong with those types of girls, Agent Carter. I loved those kinds of girls when I was in high school. I just meant that it's surprising that such a fiery gal would settle down so quickly and start having kids. I would have figured she'd be a bit more like you and not want to settle down ever." He defended himself.
"It doesn't matter what you figured, Stark." Peggy chastised him. "I don't even want to know where you got the idea women like Stella and I do not want to ever settle down and have families." Though she had a few good ideas already. Howard's widened and leaned across the table between the two of them with a sly smirk. "Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?" Peggy rolled her eyes at him and gave him a thwack on the head, sending back to his side where he belonged. "Yes, Stark. I would not be adverse to getting married and having children some day." She sighed.
"What are you waiting on then?" Howard asked, rubbing his sore head.
Peggy smiled to herself, remembering Stella's words. "The right partner."
Howard chuckled at that. "Well when you find him, I want to meet him. The guy who meets Agent Carter's high standards must be one in a million." He said. Peggy rolled her eyes at him. "Wanting someone to respect me shouldn't be that high of a standard, Stark."
The metal doors to Howard's lab clanged as someone on the other side knocked courteously before entering. It was Stella with her shield in hand. "Howard, do you have any more of that special polish you made for my shield. The soap and water I was using was taking off the paint." She said as she entered, nodding a silent greeting to Peggy. "Sure, Stell. Just give me a minute." Howard replied. He went over to a shelf and took a small tin off of it. He tossed it over to Stella. "Thanks, Howard." She said, making for the door she had just came through.
"Hey wait, Stell." Howard called. Stella stopped. Peggy eyed Stark suspiciously.
"Yeah, Howard?" Stella asked warily, probably wondering if she was about to be asked to participate in a crazy experiment of some kind just as Peggy did.
Howard pulled open a drawer of a nearby desk and pulled out what looked like dog tags. The metal shined in the lights of the bunker. Peggy presumed they were newly issued. Howard held the tags out to Stella. For the first time, Stark seemed almost a bit timid. "When I heard they didn't find him, I made these. Figured you'd want something to remind you of him. Him being your best friend and all." He explained. Stella set aside the tin of polish and took the dog tags from Stark. She smiled at them and at Stark, and she put them away in the pocket of her jacket along with her son's picture. "Thank you, Howard. That means a lot to me." She said.
Stark and Stella shared a hug as Peggy looked on.
Peggy took on the task of going through Stella's things a week after the Valkyrie went down. The search was still on (though they were no longer looking for a survivor, everyone seemed intent on not mentioning around Peggy, who everyone knew was Captain America's greatest female confidant), but Stella's things still needed packed up and sent back to the States along with Barnes'. "So they'll be waiting there for her when she gets back," one optimist had said to Peggy. In actuality, they wanted everything archived so the US government could sell it to collectors later on, squeezing just a few more drops of usefulness out of a dead hero. Peggy knew how that idea would make Stella feel, so she volunteered for the task to ensure that at least some of her friend's possessions would be respected.
Peggy went through the few civilian clothes that Stella kept on hand first; she secretly donated most to the poor, but she hid two dresses in her own belongings. One was a gift from Bucky's sisters, and the other had become iconic. It was the dress that Stella had donned in a propaganda film; news was that people in the states had quite the reaction to seeing a woman plotting battle strategies and giving men a bunch of orders while wearing a sundress and lipstick that Peggy had loaned her. She'd only been wearing the dress because she'd just sneaked back from reconnaissance in a nearby German village when the filming was taking place, but Peggy loved the image of a bunch of he-men foaming at the mouth over a woman being in-charge while also being distinctly feminine too amusing. Peggy planned to keep the dress until she found a collector she trusted. The other dress would go to Bucky's sisters.
Peggy couldn't keep or donate everything, however, so when it came to Stella's sketch books, she only took one of the five that were among Stella's things. The one she took contained very intimate sketches of Bucky, all made after his death. They contained such strong emotions in every stroke of pencil lead that Peggy thought it repulsive to give them to the first stranger that waved around a few dollars. She hid the book among her own things like the dresses; she'd give it to Bucky's sisters if they wanted it.
Stella didn't bring many things with her to war or gather many souvenirs, so Peggy thought she was done after packing up the few little knick-knacks that Stella picked up throughout the war. However, upon checking under the bed just to be sure she wasn't missing anything, she found a small metal box. Taking it out and setting it atop the bed, Peggy lifted the lid. Inside, she found a letter, Henry's photograph, and the recreation of Bucky's tags. Peggy felt her heart lodge itself in her throat, attempting to choke her and put her out of her misery not for the first time. Tentatively, she took out the letter and tore it open.
Dear Peggy,
You're probably really mad at me if you're reading this. But I swear I left these things only just in case! I wasn't intending on doing anything stupid like getting myself killed to be with Bucky and Henry or anything. I just had a bad feeling, is all. I'm not saying you don't have the right to be pissed, just that you should know I didn't mean for it to end the way it did, whatever it was that got me killed.
I didn't like the idea of someone digging around the pockets of my corpse or in my field bag and finding these. I trusted you to be the one to go through my things in my room though. I can't see any of the commandos going through my unmentionables! So I knew you'd find them if I didn't come back to take them out of the box myself.
Peggy, I want to be buried with these items in my coffin. And if there's none of me left to bury, then give them to Bucky's sisters or parents. They deserve them. As for mine and Bucky's apartment, we've had portions of our pay sent to the land lord so he wouldn't throw our stuff out while we're away. If it's not too much to ask, could you go to Brooklyn and go through our stuff, make sure it all goes to the right people?
Give everything of mine you can to Buck's sisters so they can sell my stuff if they need money. Bucky's clothes could go to the orphanage on 8th street (the kids there always need clothes). Our furniture isn't worth much and would be a bitch to move. Just leave it.
You can keep my sketches if you like or give them away. There's a photo album though that needs to go to Buck's mom. Finally, there's a loose floor board in the bedroom. Trust me, you'll know it when you step on it. If you lift it up, there will be an old bean can stuffed with cash. Bucky saved it up for me so I'd have extra money in case of an emergency. This may sound redundant at this point, but give it to Buck's folks.
Except for a few dollars. Henry hasn't had flowers on his grave since my last show in New York as far as I know, though I may be wrong (Buck's folks, ya know). Leave him something nice from his mom and dad.
I guess this is a will now, gees. Sorry about this, Peggy, but I count you as one of my best friends and can trust no one but you to do these things.
Sorry if I made you cry,
Stella
Peggy wiped her eyes and folded the letter back up.
Peggy Carter would become one of the most reviled human beings on earth for WWII historians after they figured out she was the reason so few artifacts from Stella Rogers' life existed outside those in the possession of the Barnes Sisters. She never let anything they said in their papers or in their books bother her. It was rather easy really with how some of them acted. Their petulant, thinly veiled whining about lost significant pieces of the "puzzle that was Stella Rogers' life" were actually quite amusing with their similarities to teenagers' griping about being exiled to the kids' table at their cousin's wedding. Peggy respected the few historians and collectors who acknowledged there was likely good reason for her actions.
It was those historians that, fifty years after the war, Peggy suggested Bucky's nephews and nieces give their aged or dead mothers' collections to for analysis if they didn't want to keep them for themselves. Peggy also gave few interviews to one or two, and gave the remaining Commandos the sign off to do the same if they liked. Months and months after the interviews and the auctions, Peggy bought a biography on Stella Rogers from a local bookstore, a recent release from one of those trusted historians. She was pleased to find that after many, many years of it being all about the spitfire starlet of World War II who defied gender conventions left and right and rarely "acted like a woman should", the devoted wife and mother in that same woman was getting her due respect as well.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story! Please review!
I'm going to write a companion piece focusing on Bucky, but from the POV of a commando. Like this one was about Stella but from Peggy's POV.
As for Peggy's feelings for Stella. That's completely up to you. Girl-crush, legitimate attraction (i.e. Bi!Peggy), or simple friendship. It's up to you.