One hand reaches up to fall gently on his shoulder and the other slides into his hand. It's small and cool but with an easy strength that always had him a little envious of girls like her. He tries not to look at it. Or at her. Tries not to think about how this is dancing.
He's practiced a few times. Alone in his apartment. Joked with Peggy about it afterwards.
But he hasn't actually danced. He couldn't.
Not unless it was with a very particular person.
And now he is being gently guided around the dance floor by an American icon.
"Star struck," she asks. And she's got that same quality Barbara Stanwyck always had. Electric. Engaging.
He saw The Lady Eve five times in the theater because of Stanwyck.
Peggy had the quality too.
Or has.
He chuckles and gives her a spin he's seen other guys do and if it's a bad spin and too fast and hard the Angela Carter doesn't show it.
Though when she spins back into him her fingers dig into his shoulder like she won't let go. "Not star struck."
He shrugs, "Maybe a little."
Steve's as surprised as anyone that he's talking to her. That he's being charming. Cool. Thank god for the future.
"I don't meet a lot of movie stars," he says.
She hums like she doesn't believe him, "Must be your first time here."
"It is actually. Never even been to Milan before."
"I'll have to take you on a tour then," she breathes, voice high and sultry all at once, "show you the sights."
He swallows, "You hardly know me."
"Oh I doubt that." Her fingers walk up his chest and she smiles like Steve's the sun. "I think I'm not the only one on this dance floor that's a little famous."
"There was a director over there—" He looks around, but she catches his jaw and directs him back towards her.
"I'm not talking about any director."
He gives her another spin. Tosses her. Catches her. She's flushed and he's flushed and he wishes he'd gotten to dance with someone else.
"I saw you in Jersey once," she sighs, "pitching war bonds." She's playing a game with him.
He pulls her close. "I saw you once too. In a picture. Only they got the name of your character all wrong."
"That a fact Cap?" It's a challenge and it makes her voice flint.
"It is Ms. Carter."
The song ends abruptly and Angela Carter is pressed up against Steve and her chest is heaving and she's looking at him with what he can only describe as fury.
"The man you're pretending to be is dead." So Angela Carter can play games but doesn't like to. He kind of likes her for it.
"I guarantee you I'm not."
That's when she scoffs and throws his hand away and stalks off the dance floor.
Or does as close to stalking as a star like her can in public. There are smiles and gracious asides and she keeps walking with purpose while Steve trails behind her.
She pauses periodically. Catches his eye. Dares him not to join her.
The backstage of the club is just like every other one Steve's been to. The fly rail is full of knotted off ropes and there's a cage for the stage manager and snakes of cables litter the floor.
"That's a fire hazard," he jokes when she trips over an especially fat one.
She rounds on him, "Just who the hell are you?"
"I thought that was pretty clear."
"Steve Rogers took a nose dive into the Atlantic ten years ago."
"I did." Steve's only ever had to do the back from the dead thing once, and that was Peggy and she wanted to believe and he had Nick Fury standing next to him insisting he was real.
This second time's not as easy.
She insists, "He died."
"I didn't."
"Stop saying I."
"What do you want me to say? I'm Steve Rogers. Captain America. Stars and stripes and tights and all—"
She's fast. That's the thing.
Angela Carter, dancer, singer and actress extraordinaire is fast. And armed. Which Steve isn't expecting. When she lashes out he catches her wrist and looks at her in disbelief. One because she tried and two because she almost succeeded.
But she comes up with her left even faster and she's got something like a pen in her hand and when it makes contact with Steve's ribs he seizes up.
A lot of electricity—a whole power station full—courses through him. Muscles and tendons go rigid and his jaw clenches shut and he makes an unflattering noise.
Then he collapses and Angela Carter scowls down at him and says, "Captain America's dead."
And Steve's embarrassed enough to wish she was right.
####
She rushes off-her high heels clicking on the stage floor. He hears the ka-thunk of the stage door closing behind her
He can't be there when she gets back.
Whatever—whoever-she is she's going to be bringing company and right now Steve feels like that time he had to run twelve blocks while being chased by a bully twice his size.
That's not good.
He tries to stand but his legs are telling him no and his arms are only just a little more agreeable.
The band's out there playing something loud and fast and Tony Stark hasn't shown up to check on him and Stark;s "godmother" is going to be back any second with "friends."
Steve's got to go and he's got to do it all alone.
"You and me," he grunts, "we just need to work together for the next couple of minutes."
Being muscles and tendons and bones Steve's body doesn't actually say anything back.
One hand—one arm—in front of the other Steve drags himself to the fly rail. His legs still aren't working but he's willing to bet his broad shoulders, courtesy of Erskine's genius, will be enough.
"Please be enough."
He starts climbing. At first he's pretty sure he looks just like that skinny kid who always needed a boost from Bucky to climb the rope in school, but the higher he goes the harder he breathes and the more of his body starts responding. By the time he's well above the stage and Angela Carter's back with just one "friend" he's nearly to a hundred percent.
He wraps the ropes around his wrists a few times and laces his legs through them and cranes his neck to get a better view.
He can only see the top of their heads. Or her head. Carter's caught in some light cast off from the stage manager's cage, but whoever she's brought back with her is still shrouded in darkness.
When she sees the spot Steve was supposed to still be convulsing on she stops short. "That's not good."
Her voice has changed. Not too much. There's a lack of structure to it now. A loss of poise.
She glances back at whomever she's brought back.
"What," she says, "I swear there was a guy I shoved a few thousand volts into flopping like a fish right there."
"Well it looks like he 'flopped' right out of the building afterwards."
That voice has Steve nearly losing his grip on the ropes he's entangled himself in. He squeezes tighter just to be safe and ignores the way his blood rushes in his ears.
Pressing his cheek to the rough rope helps him focus.
Breathe Steve.
"We should look for him. It's not like he could have gotten far after I used this thing."
She brandishes the pen she'd used and the other woman—the woman that sounds like someone Steve really can't see right now—plucks it out of her hand.
"How on earth did you get this? Did Howard give it to you?"
"No."
There's a beat of silence.
"Maybe I stole it out of his office." When the other woman, the one who sounds just like Peggy, groans, Angela Carter quickly says, "I was just looking out for myself! And good thing too because HYDRA's got a Captain America look-a-like trying to seduce me."
There's another long beat.
"Why on earth would he seduce you?"
"Excuse me for not stopping to interrogate the guy twice my size! I kind of figured you'd want to see him for yourself."
"Well, whomever he was he's gone." Steve watches the way she tilts her head. Sounding like Peggy. Moving like Peggy. "Which is troubling." Thinking like Peggy. "Howard couldn't walk for two hours when I zapped him with this."
That's definitely Peggy.
Angela Carter snorts. "Were you just testing it or—"
"He was making crude jokes involving you, me and Japanese cuisine."
"You're gonna give him brain damage you keep at it."
"Now you sound like Jarvis. I haven't given the man a concussion in two—three years!"
"Okay that's not—"
"Woah ladies! Is this where the party's at? I am shocked and hurt I wasn't invited." Tony Stark arrives on this particular scene as he does every other scene Steve's seen. With bluster, noise and too big a knowing grin. He actually shoots Peggy finger guns like she's a screaming fan and then slings an arm around Angela.
Even from up high Steve can see how rigid both women go. Peggy in particular is standing in a way Steve knows all too well and he braces himself for the punch she's about to land on Stark's jaw.
Only Stark's hand is wandering down for the baldest grope Steve's ever seen a sober man do.
Instead Peggy jams the pen into his jugular.
There is a lot from Steve to be furious and upset about at the moment, but the sight of Tony Stark yelping, convulsing and then hitting the stage like a sack of potatoes is not one of those things.
"It's just remarkable how this thing holds a charge," Peggy says conversationally.
"Think that'll learn him to be handsy," Angele Carter's wrapped her arms around herself protectively and is looking down at Stark.
Peggy laughs and Steve tries not to think about how much he's missed it. "Pavlov's womanizer."
The other woman groans. "Peg—"
"What I can't figure out is why he's back here. I thought we were very discreet."
"You think he was watching us?"
"Or distracting us. Letting his friend get away."
"Just because he was handsy?"
"That and," Peggy kneels down next to Stark. Pulls something off his wrist. "The watch. Not exactly the standard wear for a club."
####
When Stark is slapped out of his stupor five minutes later his eyes are blood shot and his tongue must be thick because he slurs. "Did we do it," he asks.
Steve sighs, "If by 'it' you mean make Peggy Carter think we're HYDRA operatives on a mission then yes."
"Yea," he cheers weakly.
"Why were you wearing a smart watch that hasn't been invented for sixty years?"
"It's pretty?"
Steve offers Stark a hand and yanks him up maybe a touch too fast. The other man lurches into him and paws at his arm for purchase. "Oh dizzy," he groans. "Real dizzy."
Good.
"Did you know Peggy Carter would be here?"
"She and Angie are inseparable, so there were good odds."
"So everything I said about keeping SHIELD and her out of this, did that just go—"
"In one ear and out the other? You bet." He shakes his head. "Look, I get you don't want to see her—"
"You don't—"
"Love of your life. Big honking torch for her and all that, but we need her."
"It wasn't your call to make Stark."
"And who says it was yours," he shoots back.
"It doesn't matter anyways. Because of your jewelry choice she thinks we're HYDRA. Next time she sees us she'll try to kill us."
"Or torture us to get intel. Peggy always struck me as a mean interrogator."
"She's efficient," he counters. "We need to get your watch back."
Stark seems to agree.
Then.
Then he pats his pocket and turns pale like a body left out in the cold.
"We might actually need to get more than my watch back."
"What?"
He pulls his pockets out. "She grabbed my room key."
####
All things considered Steve's keeping it together.
Peggy's alive and young and whole and he's racing towards her but he's keeping it together. He isn't thinking about what will happen next. Isn't thinking about timelines or catastrophe. Isn't thinking about her specifically.
That's the secret. Just keeping his mind on the mission. Tunnel vision. The kind everyone used to tease him about.
It's some side effect of Erskine's work. When he wants to be—when he needs to be—Steve can be hyper-focused.
Running all over Milan after his almost could have been is a great opportunity to practice.
"I want to be mad," Tony pants, "but I'm actually impressed."
"That a founder of SHIELD outmaneuvered you?"
"To be fair, I didn't know Peggy was SHIELD growing up." He's only barely keeping up with Steve and that has everything to do with the pace Steve's set.
Two men running through the streets could cause alarm, but one of them running faster than most of the cars might just tip the scales to panic.
Which they do not need.
"Didn't even know SHIELD existed."
"But you knew Peggy?"
"I had two godmothers. Those two ladies used to change my diaper."
"So you groped not one, but both of your godmothers."
"I'm gonna need therapy when I get back to 2015. And probably a dunk in a mikveh."
They hit the lobby and Steve has to reach out to catch Stark so he doesn't sail into a group of women rushing out and saying something about the Angela Carter being inside.
The two of them share a look.
Then they bolt for the elevator.
The ride up is agonizingly slow and Steve finds himself unconsciously straightening his tie and smoothing back his hair and just…he wants to look nice.
Stark, meanwhile, sags against the rail and sucks in deep breaths. "More cardio," he wheezes. "Definitely need more cardio."
"When we get in there don't crowd her."
"Not a problem."
"Just let me talk."
Stark gives him an a-ok.
"And don't—"
"Just to be clear. If Peggy Carter's in our room and wants to kill us you are absolutely going in first Cap."
####
Steve really wishes Peggy didn't want to kill them.
There's no actual time to talk when they get to the room. Peggy's so absorbed in what she's doing she doesn't hear Steve's key in the lock.
And there's this moment—just a second—where Peggy doesn't know he's there and Stark hasn't blundered in behind him and Steve can stare at the strong line of Peggy's back undisturbed. Can marvel at the way time hasn't yet shrunk the curves of her shoulders or crushed the arch of her back.
It's the first time in four years that Steve's had the chance to see Peggy—his Peggy. Unmolested by time. To see the way the light catches in her hair and strikes her skin. Causing it almost to glow.
She's not the woman consigned to a bed with her brain riddled by dementia. She's back. A second chance he never thought he'd have.
He takes a step forward. His heel strikes the carpet just loud enough.
And Peggy spins around, Steve's shield in both her hands, and unshed emotion shining in her eyes
Steve's seeing a dream but he gets the feeling Peggy's seeing just a ghost.
"Peggy," he breathes.
Just like that she's terrifying.
He's seen that exact look—maybe with a little more passion behind it. And last time he saw it he was the one carrying the shield and all he had to do was bring it up to deflect a few well placed bullets.
This time she's got the shield and the gun.
Stark crashes in behind him. "Did you find her—"
Steve pushes Stark away so hard he smacks into the wall, the plaster shattering. Peggy's bullets whizz through the empty space between the two of them and she wastes no time.
She bum rushes, the shield in front of her like a battery ram.
He tries to grab it but she swings and God. God damn he's forgotten how hard Peggy Carter hits.
A vibranium shield helps.
She clocks him in the skull and when Tony tries to make a grab for her he gets an elbow to the nose. Steve reaches again, only to get smacked with the shield and then, and he's not real clear on this next part, he's getting her heel in his temple.
Everything's black for a second and when his vision's cleared she's out the door and Stark's shaking his head.
"Like a Mack truck," he's muttering. Blood's cascading down the front of his face and his nose is already swelling.
Steve pushes himself up and out the door after her. His head's ringing like a bell.
Peggy's fast as she runs down the hall, and she holds Steve's shield almost like she was born to it. She's got that control most people lack.
If she wasn't half way down the hall with his shield and what looks like Stark's helmet in a bag on her hip he'd pause to be awestruck.
"Peggy!"
She stops. Turns. Stares. Tilts her head as though she were furiously daring him to say her name again.
Steve's no fool. He keeps his mouth shut.
But he cautiously edges forward.
That's all she needs.
Her movements are so efficient. So ruthless. Her gun arm snaps around towards the window at the end of the hall and she starts firing as she hurtles towards it.
Behind him Stark utter an explicative.
The window shatters as she catapults herself through it.
"That's ten stories," Stark shouts.
He rushes for the window with most of his armor chasing after him.
Steve's survived a ten story fall with the shield. It wasn't pleasant. Knocked the wind out of him.
Peggy doesn't have a serum enhanced body to help absorb the fall, but she's smaller than him. Small enough that she might be able to curl up in the shield. Let it take the whole impact.
She's got to be small enough.
When they get to the window she's already on the pavement below and it's cracked from the impact.
She doesn't move.
The jets in Stark's suit fire up.
"Wait."
She had to be small enough. Compact.
"She just fell ten stories. I'm not—"
She had to be.
Peggy stirs. Standing is clearly an effort and it takes her an agonizingly long time to push herself up.
When her eyes track to the window they're hanging out of she fires again.
The bullets ping harmlessly off the walls around them and one wings Stark's gauntlet.
A fast looking car screeches to a stop beside her. Steve can't be sure, but it looks like Angela Carter driving. She honks and Peggy dashes for the car as best she can with a significant limp.
"Jesus," Stark mutters, but there's that quality to his voice he gets when he sees some particularly ingenious science. "Come on. We can catch up to them with the suit."
"No."
"Are you cr—"
"We can't risk you being seen chasing after them."
"She's got my helmet! And watch! And your shield. Don't you think that might be just a little bit of a risk?"
"I think—" that Steve needs to sit down. Needs to take a minute to get his head in order.
Maybe Peggy does too.
It's not every day you see someone back from the dead.
Or back to their youth.
Just…back.
In their line of work you give up on that early.
"We can use your helmet to track her right?"
"Sure. As long as she doesn't hit it with a sledgehammer—which knowing Peggy—"
"Then we wait. She needs time."
Stark's jaw tightens and he studies Steve like he's a readout from a computer.
Then, he does something he's never done.
He acquiesces.
But the patronizing hand on Steve's shoulder nixes any chance of it being a friendly and understanding gesture.
He shoves Stark's hand away and returns to the room to gather their things.
They move to another less upscale hotel and use another name and Steve lies on a bed with bad springs that dig into his back and stares up at a ceiling that's browned with water damage.
And he shies away from that ability to focus. Because now it's turned to Peggy Carter and the way she looked at him before she jumped out of a building just to escape him.
