Author's Note: I'm going full blown lesbian subtext stalking. While I totally realize that Cartinelli probably will never be canon or endgame, I needed a healthy dose of lady love and angst. That being said I'm thankful that Thompson isn't Peggy's so-to-be husband (Cap saved her husband in Germany and Thompson was in the Pacific Theatre). Anyway, here's what I'm taking from Winter Soldier (because I'm going to ignore the Alzheimer's thing which is basically canon but shhhh). Italics represent the present Winter Soldier timeline.
P.S. - I WANT YOU ALL TO BE SAD AND DEPRESSED. THERE IS NO HAPPINESS HERE!
P.P.S. - If we want to heighten the amount of angst…just listen to "Bleeding Out" by Imagine Dragons right before the last little bit.
P.P.P.S. - And then iTunes jumped to "For What it's Worth" by The Cardigans...that was unexpected. Excuse me while I go to the corner to cry.
P.P.P.P.S.- I made a depressing playlist for this fic. You should re-read the fic while listening to it! My Super Depressing Cartinelli FanFic Playlist: "Blackbirds" by Linkin Park, "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" by Cake, "Secret Door" by Evanescence, "It's the Fear" by Within Temptation, "Frozen" by Within Temptation, "Love Hurts" by Incubus, "Wait For Me" by Rise Against, "Bleeding Out" by Imagine Dragons, "For What It's Worth" by The Cardigans.
"I have lived a life..." Peggy tells Steve.
She may have been nearly 100 years old, but Steve had a feeling that she wasn't talking about her whole life. There was a lot she wasn't saying and maybe it was the sadness in her voice when she said it that made Steve feel that the life she was talking about ended decades ago.
Suddenly, Peggy grabbed Steve's hand and clutched it with surprising strength, as though she could will her words to have more meaning by the power she put into her grip.
"The world has changed. And none of us can go back."
For years, all Peggy wanted to do was go back. To change her world. To stop those whom she loved from dying. She could see Steve needed her help (like always). This lesson was a long and hard-learned one. But her next bit was the longest and hardest lesson she had to learn. And even though, in the depths of her mind, she knew she hadn't done her best, Steve needed to hear it; because Steve always did his best.
"All we can do is our best. And sometimes, the best we can do, is to start over."
Right before she finished with 'start over' a coughing fit struck. Whether it was because she was a dying old woman, or because she had a subconscious reaction to her own words – that she had to start over more times than she wanted to admit to herself, Peggy didn't know.
Steve stood up to get her a glass of water. In the dark recesses of her mind, the life she had lived, truly lived, started seeping back...
There were many things in Peggy Carter's life that she had no control over: Captain Steve Rogers, valiantly saving the world by taking that plane down into the freezing Arctic; the ability to convince her co-workers that she was a capable agent; coming home to being assaulted, having her face almost scorched off by a Soviet assassin; finding her friend dead, in their shared bed, with a bullet hole in her forehead; to name a few. One thing Peggy Carter did have control over was her routine.
Even before her run in with Howard Stark and Leviathan, Peggy had begun frequenting the L&L Automat. It was convenient.
"Coffee?"
Peggy looked up from the menu to see a young, dirty blonde waitress, hand on hip, armed with a coffee pot, looking at her, eyebrow raised ever so slightly.
"I'm sorry. But you don't happen to have a spot of tea do you?"
The waitress let out a short laugh.
"English, I don't know if you realized this, but you're in America. Tea ain't standard fare."
"I must have gotten turned about apparently. I could have sworn I was on my way to London."
Peggy quipped, smile tugging at her lips.
"Coffee will be fine."
The waitress poured the cup and placed the pot back on the hot pad. Spinning around, the young woman leaned on the counter in the most dramatic fashion and placed her chin in her hand as though the pair of them had been young school girls together and they were gossiping about their crushes.
"So English, how'd you end up in New York?"
Taken aback by the sudden dramatics, Peggy deflected quickly with a "How does anyone end up here?" and took a sip of her coffee.
"They're usually chasing a dream." The waitress shot back. "So what's yours?"
For the first time in a good long while, Peggy was left without a quick response. Perhaps she had been fighting the war for too long, but she had forgotten how people (specifically New Yorkers) were; forward. This dramatic young waitress, in the matter of minutes, had made connection with Peggy that she believed impossible. It was as though the same firebrand spirit that had attracted her like a magnet to Steve Rogers was somehow possessing this young woman as well; and she felt herself being drawn and absorbed in her all at once. She felt like, with this waitress, she could just be Peggy Carter again, nothing more, nothing less.
"I'm hardly chasing a dream. Just trying to get along after the war; I work at the phone company."
"Well I jus work at a crappy autotmat so, join the club."
Peggy smiled. It was refreshing to have someone as quick as…
"So what's your name English?"
This woman was operating at mach ten; quite a contrast to her own demeanor.
"Peggy." She extended a hand as the waitress shook it.
"Angie." She tapped her name badge. "Martinelli. Pleased to meet 'cha. Hopefully I'll see you around."
Angie's eyes seem to radiate warmth and friendliness that drew Peggy in further than she had already been absorbed.
"Hopefully you shall."
The L&L Automat was convenient. At least that's what Peggy Carter assured herself.
Moving in next to Angie constantly made Peggy Carter feel on edge and nervous. Colleen was dead simply for being her flat mate. Living in an hotel full of defenseless women was putting them all in un-necessary risk. But she could not help but want to spend the few moments of life away from being a S.S.R. Agent with the spunky waitress. Although there were times where her two lives intersected poorly…
"Peggy!"
'This can't be happening.' Peggy thought as she tried to ignore Angie's insistent knocking. She desperately searched for something to stop the bleeding.
"Peggy Carter! If you don't open this door I swear…"
Before Angie could get the next few words out, the door swung open and was unceremoniously hauled inside. A hand was placed over her mouth as the lock clicked shut. Angie used both hands to rip the Brit's hand away from her mouth to express her displeasure, but she understood that she should at least keep her voice down.
"Peg. Why are the lights out?"
A moment of silence.
"Peg?"
"Promise, you're not to say a word."
"Excuse me."
"Just, promise me."
More silence.
"Sure Peg but…"
The lights came on. Angie closed her eyes, affronted at the sudden and unexpected light flooding her visions as her eyes attempted to readjust. As she slowly opened her eyes, a gasp slipped out before she clapped both of her hands over her mouth. Before her stood Peggy: clothes torn, a nasty cut running along her forehead down by her eye, spilling blood down her face and matting her normally perfect hair. Instinctively, Angie reached out to touch her face in order to get a better look at the cut on Peggy's forehead.
A bang at the window caused the two women to jump. Peggy spun to face whatever attack she anticipated but in the process, wrenched her body, causing her to fall to her hands and knees with a sharp gasp of pain. Peggy Carter hated when she showed weakness or pain but the sudden twist was too much for her battered body to handle.
Angie dropped to her knees as well, hands suspended in mid-air, unsure of what to do. Peggy noticed the New Yorker's eyes grow large and assumed it must be worse than she had anticipated.
"Oh dear…" Peggy started.
"Oh dear!?" Angie practically shrieked. "Peg, you're…" Words seemed to be able to express how dire Peggy's situation looked to the young woman.
Whatever happened next, Peggy was unaware of as blood loss and intense pain finally caused her to black out. When she awoke, she was lying in her bed, bandage covering her left eye. Her hands quickly darted to her side as she felt the tender, broken ribs. Dazed and confused, she barely registered the soft click of the door closing. Immediately on alert, Peggy prepared for the worst.
"Oh good. You're awake." Was all Angie said as she walked in.
Opening her purse, she magically produced some toast and some eggs.
"Sorry for the meager breakfast. It's all I could sneak up."
"No, it's amazing Angie. Thank you." Angie didn't respond or make eye contact as she checked the Brit's bandages. When she reached down to inspect the broken ribs, Peggy grasped Angie's hand. The quick movement caused the waitress to look at Peggy.
"Seriously Angie. Thank you." Peggy's eyes bored into Angie. Still silent, but hands trapped between Peggy's, Angie just nodded her acknowledgement. The unspoken question about the causes of the injuries hung in the air like noxious gas. Peggy answered without being asked.
"Angie, you know I can't tell you what I do."
The New Yorker looked sadly at Peggy, eyes akin to that of a puppy dog. It seemed to say, 'Peggy Carter, what possible reason can you give to defend a job that does this to you?'
"It's a matter of national security."
Angie made a noise similar that Peggy equated to a dying squirrel.
"National security. Sounds like a load boys made up to sound important."
"Are you saying I'm as un-trustworthy as a boy?" Peggy shot back.
Angie smiled. "Well, when you're being difficult…"
"When have I ever been difficult?"
Angie laughed for real this time. "Oh, never. Goodness me if Peggy Carter is ever difficult."
Peggy gave Angie a playful shove. Angie's gaze became serious. "You're never going to tell me what it is that you really do, are you?"
"I've told you Ang, I work at the phone company."
Angie gave Peggy the side eye that said, 'I patched up a massive head wound and managed to get your bigger body into bed with broken ribs. Don't give me this shit.' But she said nothing as she left the room, leaving Peggy alone with her thoughts.
Peggy felt her heart breaking. Why though, escaped her. Inside Peggy's head the scene played out differently: she is ok so Angie isn't worried about her, she tells Angie everything, and the waitress is safe from any possible repercussions that came with being associated with Agent Peggy Carter. But in reality, Peggy lay in bed with a throbbing headache, seeing the hurt in Angie's eyes when she deflects Angie's perfectly reasonable questions. All she could do was take a moment to pray to any mythical being that could possibly exist to keep the young woman safe; Angie should never suffer for simply knowing her. Let it be enough that she has to lie about her life.
Peggy sat up, which didn't initially seem like a poor choice until the throbbing headache pulsed down the thin gash across her forehead. Gingerly, she reached up and ran a delicate finger along the wound, hissing at the pain it elicited. Unconsciously, her hands traveled up to brush her hair back, only to be entangled in the dried, bloody mess.
"Bloody hell" Peggy sighed, noting the irony of the phrase. Checking her ribs (as if the tenderness would just magically go away if she kept checking it), she stripped out of her nightclothes and proceeded to the shower. It was a difficult affair, trying to scrub out blood from her matted hair without ripping open the barely closed head gash while attempting to not breathe too hard. But she managed.
Her hairdo though was another matter; styling her hair in the normal manner would show the world the frightening scar forming above her left eye. But she hated bangs…
The Brit was met with an outburst of laughter.
"Trying a new do English?"
Peggy frowned. She didn't think the bangs were atrocious. Mostly though, she felt sad at Angie's response. She wished that Angie believed she looked nothing short of smashing. The waitress continued to chuckle as she turned to leave for work.
As Angie's arm swung backwards, Peggy caught it and swung the younger woman around and towards her. Merely a foot from each other, Peggy looked earnestly at Angie.
"Does it look so disastrous?"
Silence fell between them as they stared at each other. If there was anyone viewing the scene from the outside, they would've surely seen two lovers gazing amorously at each other. Angie brushed the bangs aside. Peggy registered the pain, sadness, and worry that appeared behind Angie's eyes. She heard a small intake of breath as the waitress' eyes raked her bandaged forehead. She felt the slight shake of Angie's hand as it grazed skin, pushing back her hair.
"The bangs are posh Peg. They somehow make you appear more, mysterious." And then she was gone.
Sometimes Angie and Peggy went shopping together. It was one of the few things Peggy did for fun that made her feel like any other normal girl. But she got the feeling they were being watched. Leviathan had recently been taking more bold action as of late. Acting on the hunch, she detoured into a shop they had never been in before.
"Peg, since when have you been into antique pocket watches?"
Angie asked, her eyebrow slightly raised.
"I was…hoping to pick up a gift for my father." Peggy replied as she picked up a watch, examining it.
She gave her young companion a sideways glance and noticed she was nervous. Sure Angie was just a waitress and an aspiring actress with no military or secret agent skills, but she had a knack at picking up on the mood of things. Peggy saw her nervously search the store. Angie didn't know what Peggy did for a living and yet, she instinctively knew that an unknown danger had followed them.
In an attempt to reassure the young woman, Peggy placed her hand in the small of Angie's back, "What do you think of this one?"
Peggy felt Angie tense momentarily before relaxing into her hand. It was a pleasant experience, feeling the waitresses' body pressed into her palm. Normally, she was not one for physical contact but at this moment, it grounded her as much as it appeared to reassure Angie.
"I don't know the first thing about watches but I guess it's nice?"
"Well, a watch is a watch so I guess beauty is the only thing that matters."
Through her hand she felt Angie take a shaky breath. As Angie turned her head to look at the Brit, Peggy allowed a cocky little smirk to break her façade. She even considered giving the young woman a sly wink, but her brain seemed to be yelling at her: 'Pull yourself Margaret. Stop flirting and pay attention to the fact you came into this store to…' The little bell attached to the door signaling that another customer had entered rang out confirming her suspicion that she was being tailed.
She handed the watch back and gently moved Angie towards the exit, hand never leaving the waitresses' back. When the agent caught a look at her tail, she made a mental note of his face.
Even though the S.S.R. had managed to secure Howard Starks' inventions, Leviathan apparently had other machinations that put ordinary citizens in risk. In order to thwart these schemes, S.S.R. Agents were thrust ever more into dangerous situations; and funerals were becoming a far more prevalent features of Peggy's monthly schedule.
As wonderful it was having her best friend ('sure, let's go with that') under the same roof, every day she came home her heart was in her throat, afraid that she would find Angie like Colleen – a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead, blood slowly dripping down her grey, ashen face.
Normally Peggy never arrived home before Angie. However, after a particularly trying day, Peggy had dismissed herself early, sitting down on one of the large couches, staring aimlessly out of a window. That's where Angie found her, looking haggard and lethargic.
"Peggy…" Angie started, moving slowly towards Peggy as though she was a wild animal that might be spooked.
"I can't do this anymore."
Tears formed at Peggy's eyes when she heard Angie's voice. Without saying another word, she felt the younger woman's arms wrap around her. Peggy didn't realize how desperately she had needed physical contact of a comforting nature until she held her.
"What can't you do?"
Angie asked. Peggy didn't answer, but clutched at Angie's arm instead.
"I might not know what you do, or what you have done, but one thing that has always been abundantly clear to me Peggy. And that is, you are capable of anything. So what can't you do?"
"Fall in love."
The words slipped effortlessly out of her lips before she thought to keep them in, or even consciously think them. Perhaps her subconscious knew her better since, had she thought about it, she would have talked about work and dealing with the unlucky streak of co-workers dying.
"I think it should be every dame's right to fall in love with whoever they want."
"Not when it betrays another…"
"Peg." Angie's arms clutched her closer (if that had even been possible). "Everyone lost someone in the war. That doesn't mean we have to stop living our lives. That does a dis-service to their name."
Peggy fought the urge to completely breakdown.
"Times like these call for only one thing..." Angie said, finally releasing Peggy and standing up, hands on hips, "…pie and schnapps."
And so they feasted on pie and schnapps.
Maybe because neither of them had eaten yet but the schnapps they imbibed had left them well and drunk.
Peggy let out a giggle. 'A giggle Margaret?' she admonished herself. 'You're a S.S.R. Agent, not a simpering school girl.' But the schnapps was having the intended effect of removing filters. It also didn't help that Angie was giggling much like a school girl as well.
"Ok, Miss. Peggy Carter. Tell me something no else knows."
"My first name is actually Margaret."
Angie pushed Peggy playfully on the knee.
"Your parents gave you that name, they know that. Something else."
Although the alcohol was coursing strongly through her veins, she couldn't admit that she had developed an attraction to her former neighbor/now roommate. An attraction predicated on that first meeting, when Angie trapped her in her magnetic personality. Peggy fumbled for words (an extremely rare occurrence for her) as though she was Steve back in the car when he first attempted to talk to her.
"Fine, I'll go first." Angie cut in, taking another sip of schnapps, as if steeling herself. She became serious and looked right at Peggy, "There is someone I quite fancy."
Peggy felt her face drop. She should be happy, but she wasn't. She had hoped that Angie would say something, anything, other than that. But she plastered on a fake smile nonetheless.
"So who is the lucky fella?"
"Nope." Angie said, crossing her arms and shaking her head. "That's not how this works. I don't get to say two things no one knows while you've said none. You tell me something and then I'll answer your question."
Peggy, who has faced withering gun fire and has killed men in combat, now felt nervous and exposed.
"I was," Peggy searched for something to placate the young woman. "Captain America's liaison during the war."
Angie groaned.
"Seriously Peg you stink at this. This is about you opening up and telling me something no other person but you knows."
The words came spilling out of Peggy's mouth before she could stop them.
"I fancy you."
An unbearably long silence sucked the air out of the room (although in reality it was only a second or two). Peggy had imagined many different scenarios in her head, but she wasn't prepared for Angie hooking her arm around her neck and pulling her into a kiss.
"I quite fancy you too."
"Angie! What in the name of god are you doing here?!" Peggy yelled as she noticed Angie appear in the alley she had tracked the Leviathan tail from the antique watch shop into.
"Sorry Peg, but I got worried. I mean, the way you suddenly excused yourself from the table."
"It's not safe here." Peggy stressed, searching the area for any immediate danger.
"Nowhere is safe. You can't protect me from everything." Angie shot back.
"I don't mean it in the amorphous, 'Life is dangerous' sort of way. I mean it in a, there is a bad guy running around in this general vicinity, sort of thing."
Angie just shrugged.
'Stubborn as always.' Peggy thought.
"I need to know you're safe." Peggy practically pleaded, reaching out and grasping Angie's arm.
It was entirely possible that fear shown in her eyes as well. A shot rang out and Peggy whipped Angie into the wall, placing herself between the younger woman and possible harm, shielding her smaller frame with her own. Quickly, she surveyed her surroundings. Finding what looked like suitable cover; she roughly grabbed Angie and ran her over to it.
"Stay here Ang. I'll come back for you."
And without another word, she was off. The only concrete thought Peggy could concentrate on was 'Make sure Angie is safe.' A wave of terror boiled beneath her skin, threatening to burst if she didn't quickly take care of the tail and neutralize the threat to Angie. When she located the tail, she dispensed with him, efficiently. Brushing her skirt off, she made her way back to where Angie was hiding. Crouching down, she offered a hand and a smile to the younger woman.
Peggy registered fear in Angie's eyes but didn't expect the hand grasping her own to pull her off balance. Falling face first towards the ground, she registered another gunshot. Flipping herself over, she noted Angie was standing still, rocking slightly. Before she had time to register why Angie was still standing when there were gunshots, she sees the gun – on the same plane as Angie's chest and where her head had been momentarily before.
Peggy's brain isn't processing information quick enough, but reflex caused her to launch herself to her feet and grab any item she could use as a possible weapon. Chucking what appeared to be a blackened pizza tray at the man with the gun, Peggy began to sprint at him. As he deflected the tray, the Brit slammed into him, knocking him onto his back, gun spinning down the alley. Quick on the uptake, Peggy scrambled after the weapon, picking it up and letting off three shots – into the man's head, spraying blood and brain matter on the ground.
Lowering the weapon, Peggy focuses on Angie. Her brain begins to put the pieces together: Angie appears to have slowly stumbled backwards. Her back must have hit the wall since the blood smeared down the tan concrete indicates she slid down to her current position of sitting awkwardly on the ground. Peggy rushes over, lifting the waitresses' lolling head as Angie coughs, blood dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. Angie stares up at the Brit.
"What's a girl gotta do to get your attention?" she quips, trying to smirk through her obvious pain.
Ignoring the quip, Peggy begins makes quick work of ripping Angie's blouse open, exposing the gunshot wound in her chest and placing a hand over the wound to attempt to stop the bleeding. She can feel the air rushing into the hole in her chest as it makes a wooshing, sucking noise, blood spilling through her fingers, bubbling and frothing as it mixes with the air. With her right hand, she reaches behind Angie to try and find an exit wound.
"Now Miss. Carter, this is the sorta thing we should get a room for." Angie attempts to joke as a round of coughs caused more air to slip between Peggy's fingers, filling her chest cavity.
"This is hardly the time to be making wisecracks Miss. Martinelli." Peggy retorts and she hears her own words laced with anguish, her vision distorted from the tears welling up in her eyes. She finds the exit wound, blood oozing out in a steady, sticky stream.
"This is the perfect time for wisecracks." Angie replies weakly.
Pulling off her jacket and stepping on the bulk, Peggy violently rips the arm off, using the sleeve to try and plug the much larger exit wound while she used her hand to place pressure on the entrance wound. During the war, Peggy had the greatest displeasure of seeing friends die, but she had yet to see that same tortured, pained expression mare Angie's face and it caused her heart to shatter into a million pieces. It was worse than the crushing radio static that had met her when Steve flew that damned plane into the Arctic. Here, she helplessly watched as the younger woman struggled to find breathe and each breath she did manage to take, was laborious.
"Well, you know what Shakespeare said, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Peggy's let out a small barking laugh through her tears, almost like they were back at the L&L when she told Angie about her crappy day, when Krzeminski died. God, how long ago was that?
"That was Lord Tennyson Ang, not Shakespeare."
"Well, I got that he was British at least."
The jacket sleeve didn't seem to be completely sealing the exit wound but she didn't remove the sleeve for fear that Angie would bleed out if she removed the makeshift bandage, even for a moment.
"Just hold on Ang. You're going to be ok."
Angie slumped forward onto Peggy's shoulder. She was sweaty and cold all at the same time.
"Didn't he also have another one of them poems, the kind they make you memorize and recite in fronta your class. 'Theirs not to reason why, Theirs not but to do…"
"No no no no no…." Peggy pleaded, tears flowing unabashedly down her cheeks.
Why did she have to fall in love with such selfless individuals? Steve gave his life to save hundreds of thousands from alien technology. Angie, slowly bleeding out in her arms, only saved one life…
"You can't do this to me Angie. You can't make me fall in love with you and then leave me. You can't save my life and think it's worth living without you."
It was apparent that Angie was struggling just to take a breath, let alone worry about things like, keeping her eyes open, but a small smirk still managed to dance across her face as she wearily lifted her head from Peggy's shoulder, resting it instead on the blood smeared concrete.
"Margaret Carter."
Angie's bloody, cold, sticky hand found its way to the arm Peggy was currently using to keep pressure on the chest wound as she forced her eyes to open halfway. Taking a few painfully shallow breaths, Angie continued.
"Of course your life is worth it. Cap knew it. I know it. Now you need to know it too. And accept it Peg. Now how does that section end…"
Angie's face had a look of solemn contemplation as she searched her memory for the last bit of the stanza. The ragged, pained, shallow breathing came to an end and the pain etched on her face for the last few moments slowly ebbed away.
"Angie?"
Silence was all that was left.
"Steve…"
Peggy looked at Steve as though he had never been there after losing herself in fleeting memories.
"You're alive…"
Peggy tried to keep herself together. She was beside herself that Steve was alive again, free to live a life. But Angie wasn't alive, there had never been any glimmer of hope for her survival.
"You…you…you came back."
Tears welled up in her eyes. After decades of schooling back the tears, after losing everything twice, nothing seemed worth crying over. Even here, seventy plus years later, seeing Steve alive again, didn't cause the tears to actually fall. As happy as she was, part of her remained dead knowing Angie wasn't coming back.
Seventy years since she lost Steve. Shortly thereafter (when you consider her prolific life), she lost Angie. In less than ten year, Peggy Carter had loved deeper than she knew possible and lost it all, twice. She knew a thing about starting over but…
"It's been so long…so long…"