4
Peggy scrubbed her face with soapy hands, humming some song that drifted into her mind. She hated smelling and feeling like she was in a lab rat after each visit. She slipped on her trousers and button down shirt, curious about who had been putting the clothes in the room in the first place. She recognized them as her own clothes and always freshly laundered. She didn't have to call for a meal, a well-groomed attendant stood just outside the door, tray in hand. She thought about Angie as she plopped onto the couch, the leather creaking underneath as she settled in to eat. She was nice. She listened. She cared. There was something honest in those green eyes that she couldn't quite place. They wanted someone you were familiar with to be here. They. S.H.I.E.L.D her generous captives, the faceless nameless men and women shuffling her along the windowless corridors, swiping magnetic key cards and dropping her off to different places. She sighed. It wasn't her fault that she'd figured out things were off; the woman, Angie, had been committed to the role and Peggy found herself questioning everything. She found herself looking forward to the meetings with her, if only to stare at her and try to figure out why she was so invested in her recovery. Why she looked so much like someone she may have watched die.
Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she had been in a coma for sixty years and everyone she knew was old, dead or old and dying and by some freak chance, she managed to cheat death.
She ran her fingertips along the cracked leather sofa as she crammed the last of the sandwich in her mouth. Cheeks puffed out, she stood up she opened up a nearby cabinet, moving around her meager things, still hoping to find something useful. She looked up at the cool steel ceiling her shoulders slumped with defeat. "It's as if they don't trust you…"
He was a tense as she'd ever seen him, his face screwed up like he had something sour on his tongue. He held out the message, a grim expression on his face as he sat down in his chair, his right hand clutching a tumbler of bourbon, the ice tinkling against the glass.
"What's this?" Peggy asked, taking the sheet of paper, staring at the writing in confusion.
"Message. It's a hot mess. I think it's Dum Dum trying to relay some intel."
"Duggan? I thought he was Stateside."
"He was. Then he went back." Howard took a sip, "Love you dearly Peg, but you and yours got a coupla screws loose." He chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink.
Peggy took a pen from Howard's desk, rolling it on the blotter before uncapping it and writing. Howard watched Peggy worked, the corner of his mouth quirked with interest. "This isn't from Duggan." She said quietly, re-reading her handwriting, squinting as she worked. "It's a mess yes, but it's not him."
"Well then who's it from?"
"Howard, I think your long range interceptor is working." Peggy said with a grin. "This is a correspondence from overseas."
"You sure?"
Peggy nodded. "There's an operational Hydra facility in Europe and it would appear they have some pieces of yours in their possession."
Howard looked up from the sheet Peggy had been working on. "Wait. What?! How?!"
Peggy shrugged, folding the papers up and tucking them into her pocket. "I'll find out."
"No you wont. Have Duggan and the boys do it, that's why they're there, that's why I…we…S.H.I.E.L.D pays them." Howard said sternly, taking another swig from his drink. "Raise em up and give them the information."
"You can't be serious." Peggy replied with an eye roll. "Howard, I can do this. It's simple reconnaissance."
"And the safe recovery of my equipment." Howard added. "Still a no."
"Yes and that. I can do that."
"Well aware, Pegs but Angie'd have a cow if you left. Again. So, no. I can get the guys to take care of that."
Angie. They'd been together for five years and Peggy settled into the simple life. She knew she couldn't leave again; the last time she had, Angie didn't speak to her for a day, sleeping in one of the guest rooms, pouting and half-heartedly glaring at her. The next morning, she woke with Angie wrapped around her, face buried in her neck muttering about how she hated how stubborn she was and that they would breakfast on the roof. "She'd understand."
Howard arched an eyebrow. "You don't get women."
Peggy rolled her eyes. "Because you do." Peggy rebutted.
"Peggy. You're all set here. You have a desk, responsibility, the leadership. Everything you wanted with the SSR but with better toys, more money and a handsome advisor. You don't have to go jumping out of planes, firing guns and doing all that daring do stuff to prove yourself anymore."
Peggy tapped her fingers on Howard's desk, listening to the raindrops on the windowpane. She was already late for dinner. She'd turned into one of those distant working types that always made up the staff she worked with; she hated it. "He's out there, Howard. Somewhere."
He sighed. "And I'm using everything I've got to find him and bring him home, but we both agreed, we had to let it go. Look at how happy you are now. You practically glow. It's disgusting. You keep chasing ghosts and you're gonna wind up one of them."
In between training with Natasha and keeping tabs on Peggy she was home, doing her best to keep the mansion the way Peggy left it. A long time ago, she granted Tony the luxury of completely overhauling the schematics, keeping the old world feel with modern technology. He commended her choice to keep vinyl saying "The kids all love that retro stuff" as he synced a Bluetooth stereo system to work with her devices. Thinking about all of the changes she'd made and the accommodations to keep it the same, made her feel anxious. She listened to everything Peggy said in their sessions, the way she described the things she remembered. She still seemed to draw a blank when it came to the Russian mission, but she told her in detail about the knock down fight she had with Dottie Underwood (a story she'd never heard before) and how she kicked in a locker door when Thompson was promoted to Chief over her. (She remembered that, she had been the one to bandage her foot.)
She would go home, switch on the security and pour over old notebooks she kept, matching the information back against the database she had access to. She had to send Maria Hill a note of thanks for allowing her access into the Stark archives. Peggy remembered more than she was letting on and she was only confessing things to Angie. That ain't nothin'.
She rounded the corner bound for Peggy's room. She was supposed to wait for patient request or to be cleared for interviews but she really couldn't give a fig. She was fully aware that she was breaking every kind of protocol in the book she just memorized but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to see her again. Needed to. With each visit, there was more warmth in her, more humanity, more Peggy. She didn't seem so cold and distant. She smiled more and maybe it was because she was one of those irritatingly optimistic people, she could've sworn she saw her blush whenever she called her English.
She knocked on the door and waited. The moment was eerily similar to all the times she'd knocked on Peggy's apartment door at The Griffith. Except for the part where she was standing in a secret complex in 2015 and both of them were supposed to be withered old women. She was about to knock again when the door opened and Peggy appeared, a knowing smirk on her face.
"Patience isn't a thing for you."
"You'd be surprised." Angie replied with a smirk of her own. "Mind if I come in?"
Peggy shrugged, stepped out of the way and wordlessly let Angie in. "Still off duty?" Peggy asked, eyeing Angie's jeans and light sweater. They were quite flattering on her. She pulled her hair up into a bun, accentuating her long neck. She was definitely an actress; always playing to a crowd.
"Guess you could say that." Angie replied with a shrug. She had been out for a few days on the field, running drills that even made Natasha ask for a quick break. She'd passed with flying colors.
"I could, but then I'd be assuming you were on duty to begin with." Peggy replied non-plussed.
"I was on assignment."
Peggy's smile returned. "Started to think you'd grown tired of me."
"Never." Angie replied as she sat on the leather couch across from Peggy, crossing her legs at the ankle, watching as Peggy continued to explore the room. She seemed to be examining everything down to the last detail; opening drawers they both knew she'd lived in for the last few weeks with renewed interest. She took a deep breath and said, "S.H.I.E.L.D is going to release you into my custody."
Peggy stopped ferreting around in a drawer and turned. "Why? I've still no clue who they are. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and with all due respect, asides from our chats, I don't know you."
"They have to release you to someone."
Peggy pursed her lips. "And you're someone."
"Yes."
"Someone I know but can't remember."
"Yes." Angie quietly replied.
"Then why would they release me to you?" Peggy sat across from Angie, deep brown eyes burning with intensity. Angie shivered. She could see the old Peggy, trying to swim out of the depths to the surface. Fighting. As always.
"Cause I have the answers to the questions you've been asking here."
Peggy cocked her head to the left. "And you think I'm just going to say yes because you're a nice face who doesn't treat me like an invalid?" she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You think dangling something like that under my nose will make me say yes?"
Angie couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You lose a whole host of memories but you don't stop being stubborn."
"What proof can you provide me that this isn't some elaborate Hydra trap? You come in here, look like someone I might've known, tell me a few things that may trigger something for me, get me to open up and spill." She stared at Angie, her hands balled up into fists. Angie, to her credit hadn't flinched. Those eyes were so patient, kind, waiting. "I didn't lose memories…things are just…cloudy." She added softly, flopping back into the armchair across from Angie. She scrubbed her face with her hands, exhaling. She chewed at her bottom lip, eyes closed as she tried to gather her thoughts again.
"I can tell you things that only you and I would know." Anger said calmly, studying Peggy as she stared down at her palms, flexing her fingers.
Angie knew this is what Hill and Natasha warned her about. She shouldn't push for more than she needed to, more than she was allowed to and up until the moment Peggy told her who she really was all those years ago, she was perfectly content with the way things were. She never pushed Peggy for anything she was unwilling to give; she was secretive and kept to herself but always whispered the truth to her. She told her everything and held nothing back because she trusted her. She needed someone to listen. If she was going to get Peggy back, she was going to have to let her come to her, at her pace, whenever she was ready. Steve hadn't lashed out, he was just confused and needed time to himself to grieve the people he'd lost. To grieve her. She was stubborn, she had time to prepare, she wasn't the same woman Peggy left behind. She was capable now: she was stronger, faster, brave.
"Like what?" Peggy asked, looking up from her hands towards Angie.
"Your apartment number at The Griffith."
"Mine?"
Angie nodded.
"I wasn't there long and I'd lost the key."
"So you do remember something."
Peggy cocked her head at the playful tone that crept into Angie's voice. It felt just like they were gossiping in a room somewhere. "So what do you remember?"
"You turned me down for peach schnapps and rhubarb pie. Twice."
"It was one time and I'd had a terrible day." Peggy's eyes lit up. "I remember that." That was the moment when she strolled off, dismissively heading back into her room after their disagreement. She eyed Angie. Hydra wouldn't know that. Only she would.
"So do I. You weren't very nice about it either." Angie replied solemnly, her fingernails running paths along the tops of her knees.
"I apologized, at the Automat and asked if you still had it." Peggy continued, still studying the subtle tells in Angie's face. Only she would know that.
Angie nodded, eagerly leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "And?"
"You did. And you got sick."
Angie blushed. "Yes. What else do you remember?"
Peggy's jaw tightened and she tapped her fingertips against the tops of her thighs. "I lived in Brooklyn before I moved to The Griffith. My roommate Colleen had been killed. That had been my fault."
Angie stilled; this was new information. She had no idea who Colleen was and she swallowed hard at the jealously that bloomed in her chest. She could remember some woman from her past but couldn't remember the woman sitting in front of her. It was bad enough that she had to keep Steve from knowing she was here, she couldn't be jealous right now. She wished she had one of the doctors here, to see that it wasn't poking and prodding but patience that made things happen. "What else do you remember?" Angie asked doing her best to keep the tremble out of her voice.
"3C if I needed a cup of sugar." Peggy replied, watching Angie's jaw drop. It wasn't a game, it wasn't an elaborate hoax and it wasn't a piece of good casting; the woman in front of her was the woman she'd been dreaming of while in that chamber. The woman whose voice she'd heard reading mystery novels out loud, singing along to music and combing out her hair. Things were still floating around in her head, fragments connecting to larger pieces like icebergs in the Arctic and staring back at her was the woman she'd been in love with when she snuck off in the dead of night for some reason. "You're crying."
Angie hadn't realized it until Peggy was across the room, wiping at her face with her thumbs. Angie froze; she had forgotten how fast Peggy was and how soft her hands were pressed against her cheeks. She held Peggy's gaze. "You remember?"
"Yes…a few things are still a little scattered but…" She smiled, "So far…"
"You were faking." Angie replied. "You're a helluva actress."
"I had a good teacher. I'm sorry, I hope you're not cross with me."
"Trust me English, I had enough time to be angry with you." Every time she used it, Peggy's cheeks would turn scarlet and she'd become an uncoordinated grinning fool.
"I'm…okay…I…never thought I'd hear you call me that again." Peggy admitted with a sigh. "It's still a bit of a haze unfortunately but things are coming together."
"I joined the SSR, well, S.H.I.E.L.D. after everything. "
"As an agent?"
"Secretary at first, just til I got my legs under me. Then I became a director of one of the divisions." She scoffed, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Logistics and research, can you believe it?"
"I can. You've got quite the brain. You're the only person I've ever met who could remember Shakespeare quotes the way most people remember baseball line ups."
Angie chuckled. "Guess I turned out to be an egghead after all." She stared at Peggy for a moment, taking in the hollows in her eyes and the slight weight loss despite having been eating everything she could get her hands on. She looked haunted but she was going to recover. It was going to be okay. It had to be. "Everything I told you was the truth. The director wanted it to come from someone they hoped you'd recognize. They didn't think you'd have such a hard time recalling things, so, it was recommended to have you stay here until things started coming back. I hated every second of it."
"That's why you started seeing me."
"I kinda missed you."
Peggy brushed her the knuckles of her right against Angie's cheek. "I missed you too." Peggy sat close to Angie on the couch. "What did I miss?"
"A lot."
"She's been responding to treatments, the thing that concerns me is that she still doesn't recall the incident itself. Or other people asides from Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers." Pete chewed on his lower lip as he held out the folder filled with notes. He felt like a five-year old calling Steve Captain America; it made him giggle. "She recalls dates, places, times but everything else, that's not coming back as easily. She's particularly fond of swear words."
Angie looked through the papers, a ghost of a smile on her lips at Peggy's fine handwriting, the elegant way she had written profanity. And her name. She'd written my name over a dozen times.
"She's also insisted on speaking to Director Fury. Or Howard Stark. I'm not comfortable with that given the fact that she's eyed my jugular more than once while holding a pen."
"You should see her with a fork." Angie muttered, looking at the sketches on the side of the test sheets they had been giving her. It was pleasing to see the she was recalling how to draw; it was something she always encouraged. She stepped away, feeling the tension roiling from Natasha's shoulders. Angie had learned whenever someone wanted anything, they started flexing muscles to get it. She sat down, burying herself in the notes.
"It's not that don't want to sign her out but as I said to Director Fury, she is a liability. She could suffer from a mental break down…potentially injure herself or even Agent Martinelli."
Natasha took the cue and lowered her voice. "How did you not notice the drawings?"
Pete's eyes widened. "I did, I just saw drawings and swears." He replied, embarrassment creeping into his voice. "I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."
Natasha made a mental note to move Pete over to something where his power of deduction may be of more use. Maybe janitorial staff. Or in a ditch. "She refused to see me…what's in that file is everything we have. She has been seeing Agent Martinelli." He cast a wary look towards Angie, who was engrossed in Peggy's paperwork.
Natasha nodded. "Fury said she's cleared." Natasha replied curtly, taking the folder away from Angie and closing it. "So she's cleared. Sign the paperwork."
"Agents…I don't want to sound like I'm resisting anything Director Fury says at all but…I have to advise against this. Atleast until Agent Carter feels she's being productive."
Natasha reached into his lab coat pocket, retrieved a pen and held it out to him. "Then don't."
Another bullet whizzed overhead, zipping into the pipes and pinging around. She pressed her back against the concrete. She could hear Russian's barking orders as another bullet ricocheted to her left, shards flying everywhere. She found a notch between the broken wall, lined the barrel into the crack and brought her eye to the scope. She squared up her sightlines, the rifleman in her crosshairs and fired. He fell out of his bird's nest but she didn't watch, she'd moved onto the next shooter and fired. He slumped back and disappeared. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and switched to her side arm. She checked the ammo before slipping out from her hiding place in a low crouch, scanning for more hostiles and a telltale green Bowler hat. She could hear Howard's condescending tone over the ringing from the gunfire. "I told ya Peg, we can't keep chasing ghosts."
The intel had be spotty, a combination of Russian, German and from what she could decipher, Pig Latin made up of both languages. Villains wouldn't be much fun if they were not inventive. She climbed over a large boulder and was met with a grinning Dum Dum Duggan. "Took you long enough! Missed ya." He greeted, clapping a large hand on her shoulder. "I was just tellin the fellas that your aim is a little rusty. Thought you could use a little practice."
"Your timing is shoddy as always." Peggy replied wryly, letting Duggan pull her into a bear hug.
He shrugged. "I'm allowed. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"Haven't changed."
"Sure." He winked. "Whadda we got?" he circled close to Peggy peering over the small map she'd pulled out of her rucksack.
"Welcoming committee is Hydra. The intelligence says it's a small facility that houses our package, a few pieces of machinery of particular interest to Stark Industries and the locations of other facilities in and around Europe."
"So we're expecting a party inside?" Dum Dum asked, reloading his shotgun with a grin.
"Quite."
"What's the package?" Happy Sawyer asked, adjusting his gear, warily eyeing the decrepit building. As always, he looked like he'd swallowed a bug. "We gonna need the cargo bob to get out of here, gotta let them know much stuff we'll be hauling."
"Person. James Barnes."
"Barnes?!" Dum Dum exclaimed. "You said it was recovering Stark tech, nothing about Barnes." He looked pained; they all thought it was bad when they lost Steve, Peggy taking it the worst of them. He shouldered his shotgun, chewing on a stump of a cigar. She had them digging around Europe looking for signs of Bucky and every time he had to send her a message back saying they'd found zilch. Peggy looked tired as she shifted from foot to foot, staring at the map before folding it and tucking it back in her bag. It had been a few years since their last mission. He loved it, Miss Union Jack and the Commandos but it was taking toll. Dum Dum had to admit, if she looked as tired as he felt, it was time to start considering retirement.
"Two birds with one stone." Peggy replied coolly.
"Peggy. Talk to me. You know I love a good shoot out but this doesn't sound like a good idea. Not over Stark's forgotten toys."
Peggy almost stomped her foot out of frustration. "There was mention of an American in the facility. Stark technology is somewhere in the facility, I just don't know what it is."
"So how do you know that Barnes is even in there? Hate to say it but it could be anybody." Duggan asked pointedly, nodding his head up the hill towards the nearly decimated factory. He turned her away from the rest of the crew, his voice low. "You sure you got the right information?"
Peggy clucked her tongue. "The message is recent, I translated it myself. If it isn't Barnes then we're bringing back good news for some family somewhere. The longer we talk, the less useful it is. Shall we?"
They walked the narrow corridor towards Director Fury's office, Angie doing her best to not panic. "I need to tell you something before we go in there." Natasha said, pulling Angie into a small office that doubled as an interview room.
"It'd better be the whole story." Angie replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest as Natasha closed the door. "Kinda getting a little fussy with all these secrets."
"It's about the Winter Soldier program."
Angie's jaw went slack. "Don't know anything about it."
"Peggy does."
Angie lips drew into a thin line. Natasha nodded, taking it as a signal to continue. "The night you fought, where was she going?"
"Why are you asking?"
Natasha pressed on. "Angie…"
"She wouldn't tell me, that's why we were fighting."
"She had to have said something."
"I couldn't really hear her over the sound of her insisting that it was best that I not know." She lapsed into a mocking English accent.
"Did you get a good look at the pages from her sessions? She drew things. Notes, numbers, coordinates, names. I put them together last night. It's a map."
"You got that all that from her notes? I just noticed that she was drawing." Angie said, a brilliant smile lighting up her expression. "That's not nothing."
"We need a little more." Natasha replied with a heavy sigh, leaning against the table, crossing her legs at the ankle. She always admired Angie's optimism. "A lot more. Like what happened."
"Why're you telling me this now? You got a clue and Fury said I can take her home, I'm taking her home." Natasha gave her a pained expression, the one you give someone that says 'oh honey, you have no idea what you got yourself into'. The realization struck Angie like a fist to the stomach. They wanted her to get the information. She blinked back tears. She was a good actress, a great actress but she wasn't sure she could continue lie to Peggy, not while she was trying to get her back.
"You're an agent again. You have a mission." Natasha said, all pretense gone.
"If she's not talking now, what makes you think I can get her to? She sees me on occasion and stares at me like she's thinking of atleast five ways to break my arm."
"She talks to you. She listens to you. I know you've been telling her what year it is. I know you've been giving her updates. So does Fury. This is what you wanted and this is information we need. We've gotta compromise. My research matches the coordinates and some of the topography to a dead Hydra facility in Russia, her last mission before she went under. We can't find any of the transmissions that received for it but from what I can tell, it looks like they were on a rescue mission. I've got Maria combing through old data in Stark's archives. We need to know what they were looking for. If she found anything on Bucky."
"I'm sure he was a swell guy and all but why?" Angie shoved her balled hands into her blazer pockets.
"We…Steve…has reason to believe that the man who attacked him, attacked us, is him. That's why he's been so out of touch. He thinks it's his fault."
What do I care? Everybody loses something. "So, he thinks the guy with metal arm is Bucky?"
"To hear him tell it, he knows it is. They were thick as thieves during the war. But, you know that." Natasha studied the way Angie stared at the corner of the room, just over her shoulder, wheels and gears clicking away as she pieced together sixty years worth of information. Angie hadn't realized how little she knew about what Peggy did, how intricately spun the web was. She didn't know how connected Steve, Peggy and Bucky were; their names even sounded cute together. Angie never pressed for more information even when she had every right to; she just tended her wounds, cooked, listened to her on the phone and kissed her good night. Angie was a safe harbor for her in a treacherous world. She let out a heavy sigh as Natasha's voice drifting back to her ears. "We need to know that what Peggy saw in there, what intelligence, if any was gathered. Duggan was too distraught to write a decent report and the rest of the squad followed his lead. We know from her notes that she found the KGB operations house that…" she let the sentence drop. They both knew whom she was, who'd made her. "We just need more information and she's got it."
"Why would decades old information help you? You already know who it is. Just find him." Angie's chest ached. They were paces away from Fury's front door and here she was, trapped in a tiny room feeling as though the walls closing in while Natasha asked her to spy on Peggy to get information for the man she hoped would've forgotten her. Stupid Life Model Decoy, why couldn't you have done a better job?
"It's a little more than that." Natasha said softly. "If Hydra is dormant, there's a good chance there are splinter cells everywhere. There's something happening overseas that we're going to have to take care of that. It's something we haven't seen before."
"Leviathan." She remembered the name from talking to Peggy one night while she brought her ice for her knee. She'd banged it up badly in a fight with some guy who kept muttering 'We will rise.'
Natasha nodded gravely. "We might've sussed out most of the Hydra sympathizers but Leviathan is old old school. They run deep and we have no idea how they operate."
"What makes you think it's them? If she went into a Hydra base, why would they be connected?"
"I'm not gonna pretend to understand the way shadow organizations operate. I just know if one is made up of psychos, they're all gonna know each other somehow."
Angie turned her back on Natasha for a moment, gathering her thoughts as she ran through the list of reasons why she didn't want to do this. She raked her hands through her hair, letting out a deep breath as she paced back and forth. She didn't want to draw her Peggy back to get information for the people who were going to keep her locked up once they had it. Maybe Howard had been right; she wasn't cut out for this life. She just wanted Peggy to herself. She'd moved too many mountains to make it happen and the biggest one just moved back into her line of sight. She was gonna move that one too. Rope them in and hit em. She rubbed her palms together as she thought, turning back to face Natasha, a brave smile on her face. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."
"Where are you going now?" Angie asked, her arms folded across her chest as she watched Peggy cramming clothes into her rucksack.
Peggy looked up, sadness in her eyes. "Something came up today that I have to address." She said, avoiding Angie's gaze. She hated this part. She always did. Were it just a normal task, a regular day, she would leave for work and it would be fine because she was coming home. There would be no arguments, just longer and longer kisses in the foyer to entice Peggy into coming home early. It always worked. She spent less time in the office and more time at home. This was going to take a few days, she was probably going to come back worse for the wear and she knew Angie would complain, say a lot of "I told you so's" and take care of her anyway. She just couldn't look at her right now. She didn't want the image of her tear streaked face in her mind when she boarded the plane, landed behind enemy lines and went to work. She checked the drawer on her side of the bed, pulling out a small leather wallet. She opened it and checked on the photo of Angie she always carried around when she left for missions. She was smiling in that picture. She tucked it into her jacket pocket, aware that Angie was watching her intently.
"Something. What's something? Peg? C'mon you said you wouldn't do this again." Angie pleaded, following Peggy into the master bathroom as she grabbed a toothbrush. "You said you were done." Peggy was stopped up in the doorway, Angie's body blocking the way out. She tried to avoid Angie's gaze, fiery and determined despite her eyes being glassy with tears. "You and Howard built out that alphabet soup of a place so you wouldn't have to go out on the field anymore. What's so important that you can't just stay put?"
Peggy's shoulders sagged, her head bowed as she thought of a good enough reason for Angie. "It's best that you not know." She defaulted. Angie took a step back from the doorframe, giving Peggy a narrow escape lane, which she took and made a beeline for the bed. She tossed in her toothbrush and closed her bag. "I'll be back before you know it."
Angie stormed out of the room. A moment later she heard one of the many the guest room's door slam shut.
She could be so dramatic.
The corridor seemed to get longer and longer as they walked, Angie's heart rattling in her chest as she kept up with Natasha's long strides. "And he said I can take her home."
"As long as her paperwork and yours were set, yes."
Angie slowed her stride, pulled over and took a deep breath. "What if he says no?"
"After what I told you? What we need? If he says no, I'll check him for a head injury."
"He can change his mind, head injury or no. He could find some other reason…"
"You're certified, Carter is cleared..."
"Barely."
"Wow."
"I mean, I can use a gun and I can fight but…"
"Listen," Angie held up her hand, cutting off any further discussion. "you argued your way into this and you've been around here longer than I 've been alive, so, quit it with the nerves. You were an actress, right? You had to do way weirder things than convincing my boss to let you take your girlfriend home."
Angie bristled. "Theater isn't that weird…"
"That's what you take out of my pep talk?" Natasha blurted out in disbelief as she waved towards Fury's new secretary. "He's expecting us." She stated as they brushed by and pushed her way into the office.
Fury held up a finger. "I understand that. I'll have my team out there sir."
"Sounds fun." Natasha replied, holding out the folder towards Nick with a smirk. "Do I pack sunscreen or a snow suit?"
"A few things are rattling loose overseas. We may need to address that sooner rather than later." He flipped open the folder, making a face. "I can't believe Hydra knocked us into the Stone Age with paperwork." He lamented as he clicked a pen, signed off on the bottom sheets and closed folder again.
"Well, when you think about it, it's preferable over the tablets, I mean, anybody with a basic understanding of wifi could easily hack into…nevermind." Angie swallowed the rest of her sentence. That had been exactly what put them into what Fury lovingly called the Stone Age in the first place.
"Has she been briefed?" Fury pointedly asked Natasha, his demeanor cool and authoritative. Angie envied how easily Natasha could speak to him without bursting into tears.
"Yes." Natasha replied.
He turned his gaze towards Angie. "Agent Martinelli. I expect detailed reports regarding Agent Carter on my desk weekly. You're to both check in and personally deliver said paperwork. Agent Carter is to continue receiving medical treatment here and if it becomes apparent that things aren't going favorably, you're to come here directly. Clear?" he added extra emphasis to paperwork.
"Yes sir. I have some concessions." Angie said, steeling her jaw and emulating the way Natasha and Hill had always addressed Director Fury.
Fury sighed. "Such as."
"I don't want her to know about Captain Rogers. Not yet. She's still adjusting and I don't think that knowing something like that will help in recovery." Angie said, holding Fury's steely one-eyed gaze. "If the information is helpful I'll report it to her. Until then, I'm only focusing on the task I've been given."
Fury eyed Natasha, who gave him a half-hearted shrug before looking back towards Angie. He stood up. "Good luck, Agent. Dismissed."
