Brooklyn, 1947

To say that Bucky was surprised when he opened his apartment door and found Peggy Carter waiting on the other side would be an understatement. It had been a little more than two years since he'd last seen Peggy, and the sight of her, with her perfectly curled and pinned hair and her red lipstick, sent a pang straight through his heart. The last he'd heard, she'd returned to London, though doing what, he hadn't known. Something classified, he'd assumed, since she damned well wasn't the type to quietly fade into the background just because the war was over.

He blinked at her. "Peggy? What are you doing here? I mean—come in." He stepped back from the door and gestured her inside.

She smiled over at him. "There's that charm I remember so well." The glower he gave her only made her smile widen. "It's good to see you too, Bucky."

"It is good to see you. Come in, have a seat. Can I get you tea?" He was pretty certain he did have some. Becca preferred it over coffee, so he always kept a bit for when she came for a visit.

"Tea would be lovely, actually."

While Bucky went into the kitchen to make her a cup, Peggy wandered through the apartment. It was small but nicer than what he and Steve had been able to manage. Stark, the sneaky bastard, had secretly been paying Bucky the entire time he'd been on the expedition in the Arctic. Upon his return home, he'd gone to the bank and been dumbfounded with the amount of money in it. Stark hadn't made him rich, or anything, but he had apparently deemed Bucky's role as expedition leader worthy of a generous salary.

When confronted, Howard had shrugged and given him a wide-eyed look. "What? Maybe I didn't formally hire you, but you were doing a job. And a damn good one."

So now Bucky had investments (the acquirement and management of Howard had graciously offered to handle—by which, he'd meant have "his people" handle), but he was still working down at the docks. For the time being. It was enough just figuring out how to be a civilian again. In a while, he might think of college, maybe a career of some kind. But, for the moment, familiar work and not having to worry about making rent suited him fine.

Peggy finally came to lean against one of the kitchen counters. "This is a nice place."

"Thanks." He'd hung up some of Steve's artwork. During the war, Bucky's mother had kept all of their things safe, which he would always be eternally grateful for. There had been plenty to choose from, too, as Steve had been prolific before he'd been consumed by the need to join the war effort. Granted, many were of Bucky himself (he'd put one of them in his bedroom), but there were others, too. It felt right having Steve's things mingled in with his. "Howard paid me. For searching for Steve."

Her face tightened momentarily, a flash of pain crossing her expression, then it was gone and her features relaxed again. "That does sound like something he would do."

Bucky's mother had been scandalized when he'd told her he didn't need to stress too hard about money anymore. He'd been up in arms, too, at first, which was what had led to confronting Howard about it. Bucky had never taken charity a day in his life (the arm was a gift, of course, and exactly the kind of project an inventor like Stark enjoyed, anyway). But Howard had seemed sincere in his intent to just pay Bucky for the job he'd done, never mind that he'd neither asked for nor expected that payment. In the end, he'd had to shrug. If the filthy rich guy thinks that was a fair amount to pay me, who am I to argue? He had enough on his mind, what with his continued grief and guilt and all that fun stuff.

Bucky put a cup of tea in front of her. "I'm sure it won't be great," he warned. If keeping company with Carter and Falsworth had taught him anything, it was that the stereotype about Brits and their tea was true. They were damned picky about it.

She sipped it and politely did not make a face. "Would you care to sit down?"

"I think that's my line," he muttered with a smile as he strode into the living room. It was a cozy little room, if he did say so himself. The walls were a deep navy blue which he'd liked from the moment he'd first looked over the place. Never in his life had he actually gone shopping for furniture (he and Steve had always just acquired things from other people who were getting rid of something or perhaps from thrift shops), but he had let himself indulge. He'd chosen a couch and arm chair in rich, chocolatey brown. The coffee table and book shelf, stuffed full with Bucky's science fiction and Steve's art books, were mahogany. There was a single, large window in the room which Bucky had hung with a cream-colored set of curtains with little white flowers embroidered on the bottoms. It was cozy and homey and sometimes Bucky lost his breath over the ache in his chest with how much he wished that Steve could share it with him. How easily he could imagine Steve curled up in the over-sized armchair, sketchbook on his knee, pencil in hand, and brow creased in concentration as he sketched. He looked up at the framed drawing of their old apartment with the one-room for a living room and kitchen and dining room. It was a simple piece, yet it had become one of Bucky's favorites because of it. Steve was there.

Peggy took a seat on the couch so Bucky took the chair. "What's brought you to my neck of the woods, Peg? I can't imagine you flew all the way here for a social call."

"You've caught me." She took another sip from her teacup before placing it on the coffee table. "There's actually something rather important I'd like to discuss with you."

Bucky straightened up. "What's that?"

"As you know, when victory was declared in Europe, the Howling Commandos were disbanded. However, the SSR was not. Our work has continued." Well, that didn't surprise him, but he could hardly see what it had to do with him anymore. He said as much to her, too, since this was Peggy, and they were past mincing words. "Colonel Philips, Howard, and I have been thinking of branching out. We feel that the SSR could be more. Like it was with the Howlies—not just the research and development of weapons and technology but also going out into the world and investigating, fixing things."

It took him a moment to process what she seemed to be trying to tell him. "Like…law enforcement? The FBI? That sort of thing?"

"Yes, actually." She smiled. "We want to continue to protect—not just the United States, but the world, really. The idea is that we will operate wherever is needed, whether that be within the borders of the United States or in Europe or elsewhere."

"Is that a thing people do—just start up their own law enforcement agencies?"

She laughed lightly. "It may be when you have a decorated army Colonel and the brilliant mind and influence of Howard Stark." Good point, he mentally conceded.

"What're you telling me all this for? I mean, it doesn't sound like a bad idea. With you, and the Colonel, and Stark, I know you can do great things. But what are you in my living room for?"

"We want you to be part of it, Bucky."

"Me? What for? Think you'll need a sniper?"

She shook her head, casting him a mildly chastising look. "We want you to be a founder, James. You and I and Howard, mainly. The Colonel will be more of a liaison with the armed forced than directly in charge of the daily operations."

Bucky blinked at her. "Me? Peggy, what do I know about running something like this? I haul cargo on the docks, for Christ's sake. I've never even taken a college class, unless you count that art class that I paid for me and Stevie to take in '41."

It was at that moment, as the words left his lips, that Bucky realized he should've just said yes. Because Peggy opened her mouth, started to talk, and, in that clipped, British accent of hers, proceeded to give him A Speech. It was so rousing and full of highlights about bravery, loyalty, tactical know-how, and leadership that Bucky turned red from all the glowing praise.

When she finally tapered off and took a breath, Bucky drawled, "You practice that long?"

"I considered a full presentation but thought the visual aids might be cumbersome on the stairs."

He laughed in a loud crack which turned into guttural chuckles as he leaned back into his chair. He shook his head. "You're really passionate about bringing me on board, aren't you? And it's not just out of loyalty to Steve." He'd heard a recording of Steve's final moments, knew that he'd told Peggy to make sure she and Bucky took care of each other. The reminder of that conversation as the Valkyrie had been screaming towards the icy water almost made Bucky break into a cold sweat, so he quickly redirected his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

"It's not about Steve at all," Peggy said firmly. "Making you part of this. You're the best man for the job."

What choice did he really have after the spiel she'd just given him? "You shoulda gone into sales, Peg." He sighed. "Alright. I give. Sign me up. Does this agency-that-doesn't-yet-exist have a name?"

She bit her lip. "Well, yes and no. I know what I'd like to call it, but it doesn't stand for anything, yet."

"That makes the sort of sense that isn't, Peg."

She snorted, a highly unladylike sound. "You can't just give an agency like this a random name. It has to stand for something, like FBI is short for Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"You know what acronym you want to use but not what it'll stand for?" That really didn't make any sense.

"I want to call it SHIELD," she said, just a bit sharply. Then her tone softened, "In his honor. A shield for the world."

Well, hell.

"Right, I guess we'll need to come up with something that fits that, won't we?" He laughed softly. "You coulda cut this whole conversation short if you'd started there."