In Bloom
10.

It is with one piece at a time. She tells her the truth, and everything that is the truth: from the day she joined the army, merely a child, to her first mission when she was only eighteen years old. The bullet wounds in her shoulder. Howard Stark, and his great experiment. Steven Rogers, his finest masterpiece.

The emergence of Hydra and their alleged extinction.

All the gaps are filled, and what's left is the puzzlement of Dottie's intentions, the useless weapon, where Howard is now, and what happens next.

There's a sort of irony, bringing Angie into the safety of her home, in which Dottie had intruded only hours before. Regardless, she would rather have Angie within reach than within reach of her father. Maybe it's all starting to make a little sense to Peggy as well: although her presence is dangerous, she'd rather be dangerous and holding her hand, than not holding Angie at all.

She's starting to wonder, too, if Dottie Underwood is as evil as she seems.

And she's starting to wonder, too, if such a name like Dorothy Underwood exists. If her name is a lie.

Would Howard have any clues?

After all, Dottie used him. They had slept together, been together like a couple; surely, Dottie must have shared him a little information on the real her. Or, is Peggy underestimating Dottie's deceitful abilities?

The card with the three numbers is still in Peggy's pocket.

Its corner digs into her hip when Angie finally silences their conversation with a series of kisses. Now that they have adjusted to each other's company, returned to what they once were, there is a lack of panic. Certain that Peggy is staying this time, Angie kisses her softly, as if each second of their intimacy counts.

She doesn't mention her father, her fiancé, and, frankly, she doesn't need to.

Because they're reminded of it all, what's really happening, when the engagement ring winks up at Peggy in the night. Grinning and frowning and ashamed.

When she was a little girl, she was taught that sex is something bad. Something which must be proceeded with if only absolutely necessary. Most importantly, sex out of wedlock is sinful, sex out of wedlock is wrong.

Sex with a woman, an engaged woman, on the other hand––Peggy was never taught about that.

And the way they wrap themselves up in white sheets, naked and gasping, touching and kissing and moaning. Peggy can't think about the lessons she was taught, but ever since she wrote down her name, pledged herself to help in the war effort, she was never one of those good, demure girls.

Peggy wakes up with a start.

It's a little past four in the morning, and she's wide awake. Peggy swallows, and brings her knees to her chest, hugging them. The sheet around her body does little to shield off the cold air. She starts to think, and that's her first mistake. She thinks about Angie's father, what he'll do when his daughter returns. She thinks about Dottie, what she's planning on next. She thinks about Angie, who is sleeping peacefully beside her. And then, bizarrely, she thinks about Steve and it falls apart.

What would he do…?

What would he do if he were in this situation? With his big heart, generous smiles and bright eyes. Would he, gently, have turned Angie away? Would he have literally swept her off her feet as soon as he possibly could? Would he have eloped with her, even, throwing aside his sapphire robes?

Steve lived to love, and, at the end of the day, it is family which matters to him.

Her throat narrows. He never asked to be Captain America, he never asked for that life, and it eventually killed him.

What would she have done, if Captain America survived?

Peggy shudders. She raises the sheet to her shoulders, and lies beside Angie, wrapping her arms around her waist. The woman stirs a little in her embrace, and drowsily mumbles something.

There's a wait, and Peggy's voice is so quiet, it's a miracle Angie hears.

'I love you.'

A little smile; almost sad. 'I love you too.' Angie shuffles a little so her back is pressed to Peggy's chest, aware that Peggy has tensed from her response.

Knowing that she's in love is one thing, but knowing that her love is reciprocated is another.

And it is that which frightens her.

The next time Peggy awakens, she can smell coffee. Her senses snap, and she's upright. Recognises the scent. The empty space beside her. The engagement ring forgotten about on the nightstand. Peggy is cautious of it at first, as if the gem might shoot her if she dared near it.

She reaches over, takes the ring, and studies it in her palm.

The man who bought this for Angie must be serious. The jewel is real, expensive, and the type of gift women dream of receiving from their love. The type of gift Peggy would never be able to offer.

When she admires the ring, she is not jealous, nor angry. She is not in competition with this man. She knows her worth; she knows, also, that she is Angie's first and only choice. But the ring is heavy, it feels like a tonne, weighing down on her hand, as if punishing her.

She hates the ring. Hates how beautiful and perfect it is.

Hates the promise for happiness that it carries.

The floorboard creaks when Angie approaches the bedroom, carrying a tray of two mugs of coffee. She's wearing her diner uniform, barefoot, hair in need of a comb. Her cheeks are flushed, makeup washed away, and she looks so angelic and young. Peggy closes her hand around the ring.

Angie notices, but says nothing. She comes over, a playful skip in her step, and places the tray and Peggy's feet.

'You are a dear,' Peggy says, 'You should have woken me.'

'I didn't wanna. You're too cute when you sleep.'

'You are a negative influence.'

'And you're any better?' Angie leans over and kisses her. She lingers there for a moment, 'I wish I could do this everyday.'

Peggy isn't used to such flatteries, and snorts ungracefully. 'I'd hate for you to get bored of me.'

'Y'shouldn't lie, English.'

Angie sits and passes Peggy her coffee. This forces Peggy to place the ring aside, and when it clatters onto her nightstand, Angie doesn't look at it. Not once. Peggy takes her mug, but doesn't drink. She studies Angie for a brief second, and then says, 'You're not wearing your ring anymore.'

'No,' Angie says, dipping her teaspoon into the dark liquid. 'I guess… I guess I had no need for it.'

Peggy places her coffee aside. Angie's eyes follow her every movement. 'What is his name again?'

'His name's Henry. He's nice, y'know? He deserves better….'

'Are you in love with him?'

The teaspoon hits the mug. Angie is hurt she asked that, but she understands why. Pain passes her expression and she abandons her coffee. Angie crawls over to where Peggy sits, straddling her lap and kisses her on the mouth. 'I've only ever loved you, English, and I think I'll only always love you.'

'Oh, you poor thing.'

'Stop jokin' around!' Angie bats her playfully. 'I'm serious.'

Peggy smiles faintly. She kisses her. 'I suppose I am too.'

Angie tuts, grabs Peggy's face between her hands and kisses her fiercely. Her hands are always soft and warm on her bare flesh, grazing her hundreds of battle scars, and she kisses her with such delight and passion. It's like before, but different. Now, it is certain.

There is a sense of commitment between them.

And Peggy realises, she is willing to fight for it this time. Fight for them.

Bite the bullet.

Like she should have done long ago.

They hear three knocks at the door, and Angie reluctantly slides off Peggy's lap. Peggy is cautious when she steps out of bed, throws on her gown. Angie watches while Peggy opens her nightstand drawer and retrieves a gun. The atmosphere between them stiffens, and Angie looks at her with wide eyes.

Maybe it's precaution. Peggy isn't entirely sure who would be knocking on her door.

After all, she doesn't have visitors.

Despite her suspicion, Peggy is calm while she leaves the bedroom and approaches the front door. It's almost funny, a startling contrast, in the fact she dons a robe, like any other respectable woman, yet carries a weapon. Something that kills people.

Peggy looks through the peep-hole. Angie holds her breath.

A long sigh escapes Peggy's lips, and she slumps her shoulders. 'Not him,' she whispers, and opens the door.

Angie is beyond relieved that their visitor is Howard Stark.

'Oh!' Howard exclaims, looking between Peggy and Angie. He grins at Peggy's state of dress. 'I hope I wasn't interrupting––'

'I'm pleased you came.'

'As am I.'

'Howard!' Peggy's gun rests at her side. 'I had a visit from our dear friend, Dottie, last night.'

The colour in his face drains and he nods. 'That is why I came here.'

'How kind of you.' She closes the door, and takes him by the wrist. 'Tell me everything you know.'

'I don't know much, but when Angie and I came to rescue you at the hospital––you're welcome, by the way––I overheard a conversation. There was mention of her, but they referred to her by a different name.'

'What name?'

'It began with Y.' He shrugs. 'All I know is that the men who tried to kill you, in fact… wanted to kill her.' Angie's face contorts in puzzlement. 'They thought Dottie might have tried to finish you off in the hospital, which is why they wasted their time in questioning you.'

'A name beginning with Y?' Peggy murmurs.

'Any ideas?'

'None.'

'It was a Russian name, if that helps. Yel––something or other. I can't pronounce it either way.'

'Yelena Bolova?' Howard blinks, perplexed, and both he and Peggy look over to Angie. She's startled by their response and swallows. 'What?'

'That's it!' Howard exclaims. 'That's the name. Where did you hear it?'

'I––' She shrugs. 'Theatre. I auditioned for a role in a Shakespeare play, and there was a gal there, also auditioning for the same role. It's crazy 'cos I never even saw her audition! We spoke a bit and that was that.'

'What did she look like?' Peggy's voice has stiffened, blunt, and Angie imagines this is how she speaks during an interrogation. Her gaze is firm, and there's a severe lack of emotion. Yet, for Angie, there's a hint of gentility.

'Red hair. Very dark red hair, pale complexion. I dunno, Pegs, I barely remember. Her English was real poor. I remember that.'

'You've seen Dottie before, haven't you?'

'Couple a'times.'

'Do the two women share any resemblances?'

'None!' Angie laughs in disbelief. 'I know you'd expect it to be so, but no. They don't look alike, otherwise I woulda said something.'

'She's a Soviet assassin, which means she has been trained to disguise her appearance. I do that myself frequently when out on missions. I have no doubt in my mind that the woman you spoke to during your audition was Dottie Underwood. After all, you said she never had her audition. Only spoke to you. Although, there are flaws in my conclusion. Why would she target you in the first place?'

'Why else?' Howard shrugs. 'You and Angie are, y'know, not the most subtle.'

'I beg your pardon, but I very much object to that.'

'Says you, who's still dressed in a robe.'

'Be grateful for my decency. You don't have any. Remember the times I walked in on and you and some hussy going at it like––'

'All right, all right!' Howard retorts, 'Regardless, it is common for assassins to target loved ones. Clearly Dottie or Yeleno or Yel––what's-her-name had that idea in mind when she spoke to Angie.'

'She was seeking your weapon, which failed, by the way. Dottie paid me a visit last night, and left me her contact details. She wants to work side-by-side with me; help towards the war effort.'

'What's the catch?'

'She wants you. She wants you to create a better weapon for her.'

'Hm! I like the way she thinks.'

'You can't possibly be considering her proposal?'

'If my weapon failed, then it needs to be improved upon. I'd like to talk to her. If she is a possible ally, I don't think we have anything to lose.'

Neither Howard or Peggy are aware that Angie is currently seething. She sharply interjects, 'Lest you forget that she nearly killed Peggy!' Howard goes red in the face at her retort. 'It's men like you I can't stand! Weak when ya see a pretty gal. I don't want her going anywhere near Peggy again.'

'I know,' Howard says softly, 'I haven't forgotten what she did.'

'She isn't an ally, and she will never be an ally, Howard. I thought you would have learned your lesson by now,' Peggy replies, stepping over towards Angie in order to calm her down. She rests a hand on her shoulder and squeezes affectionately. 'Nevertheless, that doesn't mean I'm unwilling to work with her again. If she tries to kill me once more, if there is the slightest implication that she might turn her sword on me, I will end her life. I won't hold back again.'

'I doubt she will either,' Howard breathes. 'What does she want?'

'To win. Germany's real enemy is Russia, and Dottie has requested our assistance.'

'So, what will you do?'

'I'll contact her. That's all for now.'

Howard nods. 'Thanks. If there is anything I can do to help…'

'There is one thing.' Peggy's hand slips from Angie's shoulder. 'I need a home. Somewhere private, away from civilisation. A place where I can't be discovered. Are you willing to lend me a property which matches my description?'

'Not really. Although, I do have a small cottage in Scotland. In the high lands. When would you like to move in?'

'As soon as possible.'

'I can contact one of my, uh, employees. His name is Mister Jarvis. He's a good man. He can transport you over there immediately.'

'Angie is coming with me.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You heard me,' Peggy twitches a smile. 'This home is for her. For the time being, anyway.' She ignores Angie's puzzled expression, and adds, 'I would like to meet Mister Jarvis first, however. If he impresses me, I'd like to keep him too.'

'Well, uh, he's not exactly transferrable.'

'I don't care, Howard. Invite him round later this afternoon. In the meantime, I'll try and find out more about this Yelena character.' She cocks a brow. 'If there's nothing else, you can go.'

There is nothing else, and Howard leaves with reluctance and a sense of remorse. The moment the door closes, Angie doesn't waste a second in asking about the cottage in Scotland. But the answer is pretty obvious. They both know why Peggy is stealing her away.

'I can't just vanish,' Angie breathes shakily, because, despite what she said, she imagines that: vanishing. Vanishing to England, with Peggy by her side. No more father, no more priest, no more fiancé, no more diner. She doesn't know whether to vomit or jump in joy. She doesn't know what she wants.

Peggy places her gun aside and comes over to wrap Angie up in her arms. 'Why not? I do it all the time, dear.'

Angie clings onto her. 'Don't say that.'

'You're trembling.' Peggy pulls back a little, softens her expression. 'Talk to me. What's wrong?'

'I don't––' She exhales, 'Pegs, I don't want you and Iowa becomin' best buds again.'

'Angie, that should be the least of your concerns. I'm perfectly aware of what Dottie can do, but I've survived her so many times. I think it has been established between us that we can't kill each other. As much as it would please me to.'

Pulling at her collar, Angie whispers. 'You can't make me run away when you're not comin' too.'

'I will be escorting you. Darling, I want you safe. You are not safe here. Please, I need you to have faith in me.'

'I don't wanna be some damsel who waits for you to come home.'

Peggy smiles sadly. 'For now, you may have to be. Until the war is over. You must understand I can't––exactly walk away. When I joined, it wasn't a game to me. I didn't join for the thrill of it all, like most boys did. I joined because it was the right thing to do. I hate Germany––' Her upper lip twitches, '––and I don't have a choice: I have to keep fighting, you must see that. I'm not the type to walk away.'

'I know,' Angie grumbles, '… doesn't change my mind, though.'

'Hm. You always were the stubborn one.'

'Peggy? Wait a moment.'

Raising a brow, Peggy does as she's told and watches Angie escape into the bedroom, and then reappear again. Her left hand is clenched. When she comes over, she presses so close to Peggy, there are barely any gaps between them. Her breath tickles Peggy's nose as she holds Peggy's hand, and places something light and ever so delicate in her palm.

'You gotta promise you won't die. That's all I ask.'

Peggy smiles at the ring, then back at Angie. 'That's a promise.'

'Then make it one,' Angie replies sternly. She retrieves the ring one last time, and slips it effortlessly onto Peggy's fourth finger. 'I'm willin' to lose my family––whatever little it is––over you, so you can't die. You're not allowed to die. You're all I've got now… You're my family, and I need you to know that.'

'Angie, I will come home to you.'

They pull each other into a searing kiss, and their promise is sealed; their own vow.

She dials the three numbers, and waits. There isn't a ring. Just a long, silent pause, until, suddenly, a charming, sweet voice is heard on the other end.

Dottie smiles in her words.

'You finally called. I've missed you, did you know?'

'I'm willing to offer you some cooperation.'

'Ah.'

'On one condition: you leave my significant others out of this. Everything is now between you and I. Do I need to give you time to think?'

Dottie chuckles. 'Oh, goodness no, Peggy. I thought I stressed that you are the only girl in the world who matters to me. Do I have Howard?'

'You can discuss matters with him, as long as I am present. In fact, I must be present in everything it is that you do. Are we clear?'

Her response, cheerful and chilling, leaves Peggy haunted.

'Crystal.'

END OF PART II.

author's note: I am very apologetic for my delay in updating this story! I honestly was not expecting the second part to come to an end either, but, hey, I'm totally okay with that. Thank you so much for reading. As always, your support overwhelms me, and I'm just so unbelievably grateful to have such an enthusiastic audience!

I also want to add that my third (and final) year at University is looming close. Now, considering I have part-time work, my degree, and other commitments, my updates will be much slower than usual and irregular. However, none of my Peggy/Angie stories will be abandoned.

Until next time!