2015

Prologue

She sensed him come into the room and pause. She could feel his gaze on her, soft and warm. He is happy that he is not in this strange world alone, and yet sad because life went on without him, and he missed out on what could have been. It still very much felt like a dream to her, and laying there with her eyes closed, her breaths slow, perhaps, she thought, it was. Perhaps Nicholas Fury hadn't come to her and told her that the Valkyrie had finally been found after seventy years, and perhaps he hadn't told her that Steve Rogers was still, by some miracle, alive. But then Peggy Carter opens her doe brown eyes and sees him standing there, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, dopey shy smile on his ageless face, and she knows. It wasn't a dream. Steve was alive and he'd come back.

"You're late again." Peggy says as she tries to settle herself into a more dignified position in her hospital bed. It wasn't easy. She'd slept on army cots more comfortable than this bloody thing. Plus she wasn't as strong and nimble as she used to be. She was still stubborn as hell though, and she managed to get herself saturated better so that she could sit and talk to Steve with some dignity.

Steve's shy smile turns sheepish as he moves across her room to the window where a vase is kept for the fresh flowers he brings her every week. "Sorry about that, ran into a little trouble on that last op. Nat and I just got back this morning." His smile shifted into an easy grin as he pulled a chocolate bar from his jacket pocket. "On the bright side I had to take a detour through London."

"You wonderful man." Peggy accepts her favorite chocolate with a slightly shaky hand. Among other betrayals, her aged body had decided that there should always be just the hint of a tremor in her hands. Hands that had once been so steady she could shoot a man in the head as he fled in a speeding car that drove away from her at considerable speed.

"One of these days I'm going to get caught sneaking you in sweets, Peg." Steve teases as he sits in the chair beside her bed. He's smiling, amused, and she knows he would do damn near anything she asked of him, even if it did get him into trouble.

"If the bloody ninnies in this damn place would indulge me once in a while I wouldn't need contraband." Peggy argues as she unwraps the chocolate and eats a single square with pure delight. Her dark eyes, the very color of the treat she's eating, close and she hums with satisfied approval. Her smile is big and bright as she opens her eyes to find Steve shaking his head at her and laughing softly. At that moment he looks relaxed, and she's glad for it. He'd seemed troubled his last few visits. She watches him watch her and he smiles, unable to help himself. She knows he takes comfort in the fact that despite having gotten old while he was away, she was still very much herself. Spunky, witty, quick with a quip and always willing to listen and talk when he needed her. He was struggling to find his place in this strange new world he'd awoken into and she was trying her best to help him navigate it. Peggy watches as his gaze once again drifts over the various photographs on her side table, and then over to the ones hanging on the wall across from her bed where she can see them easily. The photographs tell the story of her life, the life she led while he was frozen in the ice, and she can tell that he wants to ask, he just hasn't found the courage to yet. But something must have changed, perhaps on this last mission with his new partner, Agent Romanoff, because Steve finally looks at her with bravery in his eyes.

"You should be proud of yourself, Peg." Steve says, his gaze resting on a black and white photograph of Peggy and her children, a son and a daughter.

Peggy smiles a warm and loving smile as she lets her own gaze fall upon the photos of herself and her children. "I have lived a life."

"Can I ask you a question Peg?" Steve asks bashfully, blushing a little at having the nerve to finally ask something that's been on his mind.

"Of course you can, darling." Peggy replies as she turns her focus onto the man looking at her as if he's worried his question might hurt or go too far. "You can ask me anything, Steve."

"It's just that, well," Steve reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. "Um, it doesn't seem like your husband is in any of the pictures. I guess I just assumed he was the one taking them, but I don't see any of him anywhere. I'm sorry if that's too personal."

"Don't be, nothing to be sorry for." Peggy replies with a smile, and then she teases. "Except maybe your lack of observational skills." She nods towards the drawer of her side table. "Open that and take out the album. Maybe it'll be more clear."

Steve looked confused. He pulled out the photo album and began carefully going through it's pages, looking at each and every picture on display. She had shown him a few pictures not openly on display before, but not an album's worth. Seventy years of Peggy's life, unfolding in front of him.

"There's a reason you don't see a husband in the pictures, Steve." Peggy's smile is turning into a smirk as she watches him carefully turn each page. "You just haven't spotted it yet."

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed the woman in the displayed pictures on Peggy's wall. She was half a head shorter than Peggy, dark blonde hair, warm almost smoky blue eyes, an almost mischievous looking quirk to her smile. He just hadn't thought much of her presence, a friend like Howard or Dum Dum, but looking at the more candid pictures he could see there was more to this woman and her place in Peggy's life.

Whether it was his own naivety or the pedestal he had her on, Steve just wasn't making the connection. Peggy took pity on him and smiled. "Her name is Angela Lusia Agatha Martinelli, and sod the bloody legality of it, she's my wife."

Steve's head snapped up, his sparkling blue eyes wide. "Your… Your wife?"

Peggy hums an affirming sound as she nods. "I'm queer, dear. My grandchildren tell me the proper term is bisexual." She really shouldn't find Steve's imitation of a suffocating fish amusing, but she did. She'd spent most of her life under the oppressive thumb of homophobia, and she was long past done with it. "The important part of this new bit of information, Steve, is that I loved and was loved deeply. And if you'd like, I would very much like to tell you about my darling Angie."

It took a moment, it was a lot for Steve to process, but in the end he smiled and nodded. "I'd like that, Peg."

Everything about Peggy lit up at the chance to talk about her love for and life with Angie. "Well, we met in 1946. I'd just moved my whole life to New York to continue the work you and I started during the war, and one evening I dashed into an automat moments before a rather nasty thunderstorm hit. Angie was the waitress who took my order. I was struck by her the moment she walked up to the table, and smitten as soon as she made a comment about liking my accent and called me English for the first time."

Over his next few visits Peggy told Steve about how she would go to the L&L every day after meeting Angie, whether it be for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, it all depended on which shift Angie was working. She told him about Angie trying to get her to move into the same boarding house as her, and the struggle of ignoring Angie's pouty puppy dog eyes. She told him about nights spent talking over schnapps and pie, and afternoon walks in the park, and about her crippling fears of being the cause of Angie getting hurt or worse. Peggy beams with pride as she tells Steve about the performance Angie puts on for the SSR agents sent to arrest her, and then has to talk Steve out of being angry at men long since dead.

"Before I asked her to share Howard's flat with me I told her everything." Peggy tells Steve as she toys with the wrapper of another smudged in chocolate bar. "I needed her to be aware of the risks I came with. She took it remarkably well. We got to spend several wonderful weeks settling into the new place before I was sent to help with a case in L.A." She smiles fondly at the memories as they come. "Everything changed after that, between Angie and I, when I returned, that's when it all became something more than friendship."

"What changed your mind about letting her in?" Steve asks with a warm smile.

Peggy grins. "Would you believe it all started with a dream?"