A/N: Inspired by a Tumblr post about the Avengers That Could Be. I'm filing it under Captain America for Peggy's sake but there'll be plenty of other Avengers crossover as I see fit.

S.H.I.E.L.D. has fallen to HYDRA. The Avengers are scattered, searching for a way to make their peace with the world. There's only one woman who can bring them together again – and she's sure as hell gonna do it in red lipstick.

She had lived a good life. More exciting than others' lives, she knew. More tragic, as well. Hers had been marked by an ordinary love, and an extraordinary loss.

Still, she moved on. She fell in love, multiple times, and had her children, and had her career, and grew old. She had lived a full life. It was time for her to die.

Her eyes snapped open. Peggy Carter lay in a bed, staring up at a bland tile ceiling. She remembered everything, decades of her life recallable at will. She was a grandmother, a retired war-hero-cum-secret-agent – and she had no idea where she was.

Slowly, Peggy raised her hand over her head. The IV taped to her taught skin was almost as disturbing as the complete lack of wrinkles. Cautiously, as if a sudden movement would bring upon some unimaginable horror, she reached up with both hands to feel her face. Her skin was soft, and just as smooth as the back of her hands. God, she hadn't had skin like that since–

Peggy grabbed a strand of her hair and pulled it forward to examine it. Brown.

Her hands dropped to her sides, and she slowly ran her fingertips over the blanket. Of all things, of all the ridiculous, impossible things – she was going to be okay. Whatever this was, whatever was happening, she was going to be okay. She was Peggy fucking Carter.

"Shit."

•◦●○•◦●○•◦●○•◦●○●◦•○●◦•○●◦•○●◦•

Maria Hill had worked extremely hard for her career. She was exceptionally skilled as an agent – conniving when she needed intelligence, vicious when she needed force, and uncannily controlled when she was thrown into an emergency situation. She also wasn't loyal to any one individual in the organization, which made her an ideal candidate for any esoteric terrorist organization trying to infiltrate an esoteric government organization.

It wasn't until after the loss of S.H.I.E.L.D. that she began to question her approach. Now, she knew. Her loyalty belonged to the ideals that S.H.I.E.L.D. had represented before it fell to HYDRA, and to the people that embodied those ideals still. To Steve and Natasha and Sam, to Clint and Nick and Coulson.

Maria sighed, dropping her badge into the drawer of her desk before closing it. She had, oddly enough, grown fond of the space at the home office over the years. It made her feel normal after every new bought of fighting superheroes and aliens and gods... but it was all over now.

She didn't look back when she walked away. There was nothing left for her here. All of her dreams, all of her hopes, every piece of faith that she had in the world but one was locked up in that desk. It would be burned, or sold, or broken down for scraps. She stepped into the elevator and hit the button, turning to face the empty office one last time as the door closed, sealing her past behind her.

"Shit."

•◦●○•◦●○•◦●○•◦●○●◦•○●◦•○●◦•○●◦•

For all the shit Nat talked about Red in her ledger, she was surprisingly even-keeled. Not that it was all a ploy, not by any means. She was a former spy and a current spy and she was raised a spy and there was absolutely no aspect of her life that wasn't wracked with trauma and violence. She had been raised to kill people.

It wasn't until after she had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. that she honestly thought she might have a chance at a balanced life. She was going straight after all, right? She would always be a spy, always be a soldier, but she could have... well, they could be decent companions. Friends? Steve and Sam were solid, and the Asgardian was friendly even if they weren't incredibly close. She knew she would never be friends with Stark, but he could at the very least be tolerated.

She knew that she needed to lie low in the aftermath of losing S.H.I.E.L.D., so she told herself it was just another alias. She was deep, deep undercover, playing a normal twenty-something doing normal twenty-something things. Apartment. Car. Daily Starbucks. Receptionist job – at a gun range, of course, so that she could at least do something interesting with her day – until she stopped by some shitty fast food place for takeout.

Nat sighed, balancing the takeout box and drink on one arm while she fished through her pocket for her keys with her other hand. It was a balancing act she had been doing for months. Deep cover, she would say to herself as she stepped inside. Deep cover, and she wouldn't even bother to turn on the lights as she rummaged around looking for a fork. Deep cover, and she would sit cross-legged on an empty living room floor to eat her cold food. Deep cover, and it would all be over soon. Deep cover, and there would be a light to fight for at the end of the tunnel.

Nat's fingers closed over her keys, but as she pulled them out of her pocket something slipped. The drink she had set on top of the takeout box on her arm tipped over sideways. The lid popped off, sending lemonade in every direction over the concrete where a doormat should be.

"Shit."

•◦●○•◦●○•◦●○•◦●○●◦•○●◦•○●◦•○●◦•

There was no chance in hell that the bastard was dead. Did he love his brother? Sure, just about as much as he was capable of feeling any true emotions. But that sure as Hel didn't mean that he was going to die for the prince. Not for glory. Not even for Odin. No. Loki wanted power, and he wanted to rule over others. Sif knew, deep in her heart, that Loki was still alive.

She had journeyed away from Asgard many times over the course of her life, but Odin feared that war would break out between home worlds of the great tree Yggdrasil. Loki had done his part to instigate these battles, that much was certain, but he was not the only one who stood to gain something if Asgard were to fall. As if Asgard could ever fall.

But still, Odin feared. One by one the portals were closed. Bifröst was inaccessible. The passages between worlds were lost. "Gravitational anomalies", as Jane had liked to call them. It had broken some part of Sif's heart to see Thor follow the weak human back to Midgard, but Sif was Asgardian, a true Shield Maiden. She channeled her hurt into hurt into a righteous fury, the driving force of battle.

And there was no one's ass she wanted to kick quite as hard as Loki's.

But in order to find him, she needed to travel. She had gone first to Heimdall, the keeper of the gate, but there were none who could pass over Bifröst. He would make no exceptions. If Sif wanted to get out of Asgard, she would have to find help. She needed someone with not only the power to defy Odin's directives, but the will to stand against all the might of Valhalla. There was only one Vanir in all of Asgard with the might and will to do so, only one with a hall to stand in equal power.

"Shit."