Langley, Virginia, U.S.A.
"I don't like it."
"I don't think you have a choice."
Her boss looked over his glasses at Sharon. "When's the funeral?"
"Tomorrow," she answered, slowly. She'd worked with him for two years, long enough to be wary of his non sequiturs. "I fly to London this afternoon."
"He'll be there, won't he?" The emphasis was subtle, but Sharon imagined she could hear italics when Bob said 'he'. Or maybe a capitalized letter, the way that devout people spoke about their gods.
"Of course he will. He's going to be a pall bearer."
"Scuttlebutt is that he's balking at signing."
"Of course he is," she snorted.
"Why 'of course'?" Bob asked, tenting his fingers and leaning back in his creaky chair. "He's a good soldier. He should appreciate a clear chain of command." Not challenging. Expectant. Like a professor waiting for a clever answer from a prize pupil.
"He's not a good soldier," Sharon shook her head. "Everyone gets that wrong."
Bob didn't answer, just twirled a finger, indicating she should go on.
"'Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.' That's what Erskine told Aunt Peggy back then. That's why he chose Steve and why Peg chose Steve. Back when the Nazis were taking over Europe, being a good soldier was what a good man did. Especially if you were a naïve kid who had never been further from home than Coney Island."
"But…" he prompted her.
"But nothing. Remember the rescue mission that made him a hero? He went AWOL to stage that. He disregarded orders to do the right thing. Even back then, he did what was right, not what the rules said."
"And now?"
"Now, he's not a wet-behind-the-ears kid anymore. He got a master class in hidden agendas from Fury and then a post-doc in ulterior motives from Pierce. Not to mention personal tutoring from Romanov. Back then, he signed up to be a soldier because a good man would fight Hitler. But it's not back then anymore and he knows it. He's learned a lot about how the world works since he came out of the ice. He's not going to let himself be manipulated again."
"He's tight with Romanov?"
"That's what the reports say."
"Sleeping with her?"
"Not that anyone can tell, no."
"You've been reading the reports?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
"He is a friend of the family, sir."
Bob let his lips twitch, a spy's smile.
"Romanov is going to sign."
"She's practical, sir."
"Could she convince him to sign?" Again, the subtle weight of the pronoun.
Sharon thought a long time before answering.
"I don't know. Maybe," she weighed factors in her head. "He's pretty straightforward guy and he's been willing to let Romanov do the tricky thinking for him in the past. She might sway him."
"He let your Aunt Peggy do the thinking for him, back in the bad old days."
Sharon let her own lips twitch. "He likes clever women, I guess."
"Could Peggy convince him that signing was the right thing to do?"
"Probably. He'd listen to her because he knew she was smarter than he was. But she wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because the Accords are stupid. Impractical. Dangerous. She would have been in favor of oversight, sure. But the Accords aren't oversight. They are control. Worse, they are control by committee. She would have killed this idea before Stark could finish saying it out loud."
"Her Stark was smarter than our Stark."
"Not smarter. Just less… damaged."
"Fair point."
Bob swiveled in his chair and looked out his window. It was a crappy view of the parking lot, with a distant glimpse of green tree line if you craned your neck.
"Back before he dropped those helicarriers into the Potomac, you were assigned to watch him, right? A honeypot position?"
Sharon didn't bother to answer. He'd hired her based on her performance during that debacle.
"You had to blow your cover early but… do you think you had him hooked?"
Sharon watched him watch her nod in the reflection of the window.
"Could you do it again?"
"Maybe. Give me three or four months…."
"You've got until this weekend. Everyone's given him some space because of the funeral but the pressure to sign is going to increase dramatically once..."
He faded off. Apparently some things were too blunt even for Bob Howard.
"Once Aunt Peg is in the ground," Sharon finished, her voice flat.
He nodded and had the grace to look abashed.
"Could you do it?"
She could. She knew it. He was vulnerable from grief. She could hit the right notes of nostalgia, offer a shy smile and bold stare. She could talk about Peggy and her thigh holster and maybe bring up the brief flirtation they'd shared in the hallways when he thought she was a neighborly nurse. He'd been achingly lonely back then and his whole demeanor had radiated a heady mix of skin hunger and wariness. Even small touches made him shudder. The reports were fairly detailed and he hadn't taken a lover since then.
"What would I be doing?"
Bob glanced sharply over his shoulder at her.
"Talking him out of signing the damned thing, of course."
"Why?"
Bob looked down over his glasses again and didn't answer.
"Bob, I want to hear your reasons," she sighed. "This isn't a small thing you're asking."
He thought for a moment before nodding.
"Because I'd like it if Captain America didn't have to answer to the fucking United Nations," he huffed, frustrated into profanity. "I don't like the precedent, I don't like the optics, and I don't like the idea of the Maximoff girl following the orders of some international committee."
"If I convince him not to sign, he would have to retire, wouldn't he?"
"Sure… officially."
"He's a good man," she protested, but it was desultory. The idea of at least one enhanced human who wasn't shackled by the Accords had a certain unpleasant appeal. Especially if he was beholden to the Agency to provide cover for any extralegal activities.
"Doesn't mean he's going to play by the rules. You said so yourself."
She thought for a long moment. She didn't like the idea of manipulating. He was, after all, a good man. But she liked the idea of others manipulating him even less. And she might not have to use sex to do it, either. That smacked of betrayal in a way that made her wince. If she was clever, she could do it all with a few choice words.
But should she?
What would Aunt Peg do? That had been her mantra since she was a teenager. Peg would tell Steve not to sign. She wouldn't do it with flirtation, either. She'd be direct about it. She'd offer that little lecture Peg liked about planting yourself like a tree. Not signing was the right thing to do and it never took much effort to convince Steve Rogers to do the right thing.
Aunt Peg was dead but Sharon could do her one last favor from the grave. Not because Bob Howard wanted her to. But because it was what Aunt Peg would do. Would have done.
But she wouldn't tell Bob that. She'd let Bob think she was doing it for him and he would offer Steve some protection, ease his way out of the Accords, offer him some options as a civilian. It was the practical thing to do, even if it was achieved in a slightly underhanded method.
And Peg would understand that, too.