Prologue
People say that the best stories are created through a misdirection, a mistake, or a bad idea. But really, who can say that the best stories only happen because of that?
Who's not to say that it wasn't someone's ambition to go and destroy something, making a story for someone else to tell one day that will be the best story ever created?
The thing was, Angie Martinelli never planned for this to be her story. She had created her own story in her head since she was little. She'd move to New York and become a famous Broadway actress.
Of course, she had gotten as far as New York when she met the man she said would be the love of her life. She should have saw it coming, but nothing was out there to warn her that marrying someone just after you met them was bad.
Russell was everything Angie had ever wanted. Young, handsome, kind. A story book prince.
She was only twenty one when she found out she was pregnant. This was a hitch in her plan, a plan that had stalled when she didn't go out for auditions yet. Russell was over the moon, and glad that they would be having children. He could have a son to follow in his footsteps.
Angie, while happy that she would be having a child was also troubled. How come she wasn't an actress yet? Wouldn't this stop it from happening? Now that she would be a mother, Russell would expect her to become a house wife and Angie didn't want that.
"Angela, its fine." Russell would say to her with a grin before kissing her goodbye as he left for work at the firm. He was an accountant for Howard Stark. He made brilliant money, but Angie wanted to make her own.
Their daughter was born on July fourth, 1941. Russell was disappointed that she was not a boy. Angie fell in love with her, something that she never thought would actually happen. Why would she love a child that she wasn't prepared for. That never happened though.
She was pale with dark blonde hair. Russell took one look at her and gave her back to Angie. Angie named her Jenna. Her middle name was Alvie, after Russell's mother. Angie hated it, but never argued. One day she'd change it to something more suitable.
Then, Pearl Harbor got bombed and the United States were brought into war. Russell tried not to be shipped off, but he was. Although Jenna was little, she was given to a neighbouring family during the day while Angie went and worked in the factories.
This was not what she wanted. Not at all. This was all wrong, everything was all wrong. She was supposed to be on stage, not in a factory becoming dirty and making explosives.
She even tried out as one of the chorus girls for Captain America. It never worked, so she didn't go to the show. Why would she when she couldn't even get in?
You see, just because Angie tried to make herself a certain story it didn't work. Life doesn't work that way. Rarely does something you set yourself out to do happen without a minor detour.
When the war ended, Angie got fired. The men were coming back, they could do those jobs. She was meant to simply become a house wife again.
Angie didn't want to be a housewife. Russell came back, battered and bruised. Telling stories of how Captain America saved him from dying in the 107th. Angie just nodded. He never asked how she was, how things went here.
Every day, Angie would watch him get into his car from the upstairs window. Glaring down until little Jenna came and found her. Then, when Jenna started school, she'd stand there alone for hours before going and reading. She'd read aloud to practice her voice. Sing around the house with the radio, anything.
One day, she had enough. Angie wasn't a house wife, she didn't want to be a house wife. She wanted to do something, be something.
So, the young lady did what she thought was right. She went and got a job at a place called L&L Automat. She was a waitress, and while everyone was horrid she was doing something for herself. Angie then started going for auditions again. Things were getting back on track.
Russell wasn't happy, why would he be happy that his wife was disobeying his orders. She was his property? Wasn't she? Wasn't that how this shit worked?
So, instead of being supportive he got drunk and mad. He yelled that she should stay home, that he wanted a son. She screamed back, saying she didn't want any more kids. That she never got a say. That she needed this job, and that she would get onto Broadway.
He told her to get out. She said it was just as much her house as his.
So, instead he got out. He packed his bags and left.
Angie was frustrated. Once again she was left with a child.
She didn't let Jenna know of this though. Every day she worked with the four year old. The child that had fun at her preschool. She told her mom that she met this boy, and that they played house. He was a stay at home dad, she was the working mom. Angie told her good job, that if she wanted to work she could.
Three days later, Russell came back. Angie told him to get out, but he continued his rampage through the house.
Jenna was in her room, playing with some dolls. He stormed in, grabbed a bag, and started packing her stuff.
Angie yelled, he yelled back. She grabbed her daughter, hanging onto the child. Yet, he ripped the four year old out of her grasp. Jenna screamed. Russell left with Jenna, never to be seen.
Angie hadn't asked for this life, and her story was supposed to go her way. Not this way.
Everything that she had planned for herself didn't happen. She had a child, and while she hadn't originally wanted the child she had her and Jenna was perfect. Yet, she was gone. Her beautiful child, gone.
Every day, Angie would walk past the living room, the faded couch almost mocking her for the fact that her daughter was now gone.
The day after Russell took her, Angie straightened up the room so it looked like Jenna had just gone to school. Bed made, dolls in their proper beds, blinds open.
Every day, she'd stand in the door way, staring. She'd hear Jenna's laugh like bells ringing in her ears, her smile never left her eyes. The room smelt like her child's shampoo.
One day everything was enough, and Angie closed the windows and packed her bag. Only bringing two of Jenna's outfits, her favourite blanket and doll, along with one framed picture of Jenna, and one of the two of them. She closed the blinds, locked the door.
Nobody ever went into the house again. It was a time capsule into what could have been. It was as though a happy family just left with no warning, leaving everything behind. Pictures still hung on the walls, clothing still sat in the closet.
Angie went to the Griffith Hotel, got a room. To everyone else, everything was normal. To her, everything was a disaster.
Slowly, things started to seem a little brighter. But every child's laugh brought Angie's head looking around, her eyes sweeping the faces of the people.
Then she met Peggy Carter. English became her best friend. Someone she could count on, could rant and rave about her days.
Nobody listened better than Peggy. But Angie never told her about her daughter that could have been. She couldn't.
Soon it was as though Jenna was a fading memory. A story told to children before they went to bed. It was as though she had never existed, with only a picture to prove that she had at one point.
Peggy moved in beside Angie, and soon Angie figured out something was up. She could never prove her hunch though until the one day when she found Peggy outside the windows.
She lied to the police like people that were too attractive to be police for her. Peggy had thanked her, and promised that one day she'd explain all that happened.
That night at dinner Angie heard that Peggy had been arrested. Angie had gone up to her room, locked the door and cried. Cried for her best friend, cried for her daughter who was gone.
Then, a couple of days later Peggy came to her door and said she'd explain everything soon. Said they had somewhere to go first.
Angie and she went with the man, the man who was always driving Peggy places.
It was that moment that Angie knew, even though her story wasn't going the way she had wanted it to be it was still going in an interesting direction.
The man's name was Edwin Jarvis and he was Howard Stark's butler. The name made Angie wince as she remembered Russell. If Peggy had noticed, she never said anything.
The house Edwin had brought them to was beautiful, and after showing them around, he told them that Howard Stark had offered it to them for however long they wanted.
Angie left the room to go phone her mom.
That moment was when she realized that her story wasn't ending. It would turn in the direction she had originally planned it to go in, it would go in that direction. That night, when Peggy was arrested was the night when the first chapter ended. This was the moment when the second began. Everything else was a limbo in between, a place where the author keeps their ideas but doesn't write them down.
Angie decided, at that moment that from now on she would tell Peggy everything. Well after the woman told her. From the beginning. They would complete this story together, and get their happy ending.
I do not own Marvel's Agent Carter. This story came to me while I was watching Agent Carter last night with my friend, so this story is dedicated to her.