In which Natasha heals and more people learn Peggy's secret. This chapter contains references to previous child abuse and sexual assault.

October 2002

Fury was Not Happy with Clint and neither were the World Security Council, but Peggy knew how to deal with Fury, and Phil was more than capable of wrapping the WSC in so much red-tape that, by the time he had finished, they were convinced that recruiting Natasha had been their idea in the first place.

Rehabilitating her, however, was not easy.

She wasn't dangerous - deadly, yes, but not dangerous - but the longer she was at SHIELD, the more Peggy itched to go and find what was left of the Red Room and blow it sky-high.

She might have been tempted to do so, were it not for the fact that she was fairly sure Natasha had already done that.

Finally, the psych department released Natasha into regular SHIELD life and into Clint's custody (for want of a better word).

Fury had decided that, since Clint was the one that made the call, he should deal with the fallout.

Since Peggy and Phil were the only handlers who could deal with him, they got landed with her as well.

A few days after things changed, Phil arrived in Peggy's office with a disturbed expression.

"Has she tried to seduce you yet?"

"Natasha?" Peggy asked. "No. Why?"

"She tried it with me," Phil said, taking the seat on the other side of the desk.

"No, I guessed that," Peggy said. "I mean, why did she do it? No offence, because you're perfectly charming, you just don't strike me as her type."

"I didn't ask," Phil admitted. "I just gently turned her down and made my excuses."

Peggy nodded. "I'll keep an eye out. How's she doing?"

Phil sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's like dealing with a robot."

Peggy winced. "You forget I know Tony Stark."

"So?" Phil asked.

"His robots act like puppies," Peggy said dryly. "Or small children. I doubt that's what you mean."

Phil shook his head. "She's not a psychopath. Psych confirmed that."

"Or she tricked them," Peggy said. "But I'm inclined to agree. I think that the Red Room did an awful lot of damage. One day she might trust us with that. Until then, all we can do is make sure she has a safety net."

"Can you …?"

"I'll talk to her," Peggy said with a smile. "Maybe it will make more sense coming from a woman."

"Actually I was going to ask you to talk to Clint," Phil said. "If she tries it with him …"

Peggy winced again. "Fair point." She sent a memo immediately, asking Clint to come to her office.

Ten minutes later, there was a noise in the hallway, followed by a "Dammit Hawkeye!"

Peggy sniggered, looking up as Clint emerged from the vents. "Agent Barton?"

Clint brandished a nerf gun. "Spontaneous training event, Agent Carter."

Her office door flew open.

"Barton!"

"If you don't mind, Agent Garrett," Peggy said icily, "this was a private conversation."

"Your asset just shot me!"

"Then I suggest you pay attention to your surroundings," Peggy said. "What if this had been an infiltration? Agent Barton will be sufficiently reprimanded for childish behaviour during working hours."

Garrett glared at her, then at Clint, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

"Reprimanded?" Clint asked.

Peggy held out her hand. "Hand it over."

"But Sharon …"

"Clint," Peggy said warningly.

Clint almost pouted, placing the gun in her hand.

Peggy placed it in her office drawer. "And the rest."

Clint sighed, but gamely emptied his pockets of the spare ammo. "Fine."

"Thank you." Peggy put them away as well. "You can have them back after work. Now," she fixed him with a mock-stern look. "Don't get caught shooting senior agents with nerf guns."

Clint smirked, giving her a sloppy salute. "Yes ma'am. You wanted to see me?"

"I need to talk to you about Natasha," Peggy said.

Clint's humour evaporated. "What about her?"

"Relax," Peggy said, mildly amused by his protectiveness. "Nothing bad. It's just she tried to seduce Agent Coulson and …"

"Oh," Clint interrupted. "Yeah, she did that with me as well."

"What did you do?" Peggy asked.

"Turned her down," Clint said, as though she'd asked a stupid question (and perhaps she had). "I mean, she's only doing it with me because she thinks she owes me. And Coulson's probably because …" he faltered. "I think it was expected of them. Back there." He frowned. "You didn't think I would, did you?"

"She's a beautiful young woman," Peggy said. "No one would fault you."

Clint sighed, turning to gaze out of her window. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Always," Peggy said.

"If she ever comes to me of her own free will, because she wants to and not because she thinks she has to, or is obliged to, or owes me something," Clint said, "I'm not going to say no. Until then … I've made a lot of mistakes, Sharon. I've never been the best partner or boyfriend …" his lips quirked in a self-deprecating smirk "… or husband, obviously. But I have never and I would never be with someone who didn't truly want to be there."

"I know that," Peggy said gently. "Not all men would have realised that it wasn't of her own will."

Clint gave one solid nod. "Fair." He fidgeted a little. "Are you sure I can't have it back?"

Peggy raised an eyebrow. "Like you don't have another one."

November 2002

After her discussions with Phil and Clint, Peggy had kept an eye out and done a spot of spring cleaning at home. She didn't generally keep anything in the public eye that might suggest her true age - granted her home comforts were a little vintage, but that was apparently in trend at the moment - but anything that might hint towards it was hidden away.

Sure enough, just under a month later, she came home to find Natasha in her living room.

In her underwear.

"Something I can do for you, Agent Romanov?" Peggy asked, hanging up her jacket.

"I'm sure there's something I can do for you."

Peggy fixed her with a look. "Why?"

Natasha faltered. "Why?"

Sighing, Peggy went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea, unsurprised when Natasha followed her.

"I don't understand the question," Natasha said.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Natasha," Peggy said gently. "You know that. I'm afraid that you're peddling your fish in the wrong market though."

Natasha's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"I'm not attracted to women," Peggy said with a smile. "Only men." She waited for Natasha's confusion to clear, but it didn't. "You have been told that not everyone is bisexual, right?"

Natasha blinked. "I …"

"Or did the Red Room not care who you were attracted to?" Peggy asked gently.

"I … I don't know," Natasha admitted. "I've never …"

Peggy was sure the Red Room had a variation of the serum. Natasha had to be in her thirties at least, but right now she looked like a teenager who had just had her entire worldview altered.

"Go and get dressed," Peggy said. "I'll make the tea."

She was half-expecting Natasha to bolt on her, so she was pleasantly surprised to find her curled up in the armchair - thankfully fully dressed.

Making a cup of tea could be as simple or as complicated as one wanted. With a proper teapot, it could be a proper ritual.

Natasha watched curiously as Peggy went through the motions.

"How do you take it?" Peggy asked. "Milk? Sugar?"

"I don't know," Natasha admitted softly.

That gave Peggy pause. She was sure she had seen Natasha drinking tea before. "You don't know?"

"It's part of a cover," Natasha said. "I know how all my covers take their tea. I just don't know how I do."

"Well, which was your favourite?" Peggy asked, silently cursing the psych department in her head.

How had they had her in their care for six months and not figured out that the girl had an identity crisis?

Natasha thought for a moment. "There was an op in London," she said tentatively. "Sarah had it very milky with four sugars. I liked that."

Peggy smiled and made the tea as requested. "There you go."

"Thank you," Natasha murmured, sipping her tea. A soft smile crossed her face. "This is better than the tea at SHIELD."

"Of course it is," Peggy said. "SHIELD tea is American tea, and Americans can't make good tea."

"Aren't you American?" Natasha asked.

Peggy smiled. "I suppose so. I have British heritage though." She picked up her own cup. "I have to say this, Natasha, so bear with me. You are not expected to or obliged to have any kind of sexual or intimate contact with anyone you don't want to, whether that is within SHIELD, outside of SHIELD or on an op. If anyone says otherwise, you point me at them, understand?"

"Then how do I do my job?" Natasha asked.

"You don't need sex to get the better of a mark," Peggy said firmly. "Granted there may be some missions where a more … gentle approach would be preferred, but we still wouldn't ask or expect you to go the whole way and have sex with them."

"Is that why Agent Barton turned me down?" Natasha asked. "I understand Agent Coulson, I figured he probably would."

"Then why did you try?" Peggy asked.

A dark shadow passed across Natasha's face. "It was always better to pre-empt than wait for them to come to you."

Peggy closed her eyes, fighting to keep the pity and anger out of her face. "How old are you, Natasha? You said you didn't remember your birthday."

"I know that I was five when I entered the Red Room," Natasha murmured, almost too quietly for even Peggy with her enhanced hearing to catch. "They had an … education program. I don't remember how long I was there. They taught us to kill, to seduce, to resist all kinds of torture. I know I was nine when I went on my first mission."

Bile rose in Peggy's throat. "Natasha, have you ever had sex because you wanted to, not because you had to?"

Natasha thought for a second. "I don't think so."

"That's why Agent Barton turned you down," Peggy said. "He wouldn't do that to you."

"Is that what he meant when he said I wasn't doing it for the right reasons?" Natasha asked.

"Most likely," Peggy said.

"I do owe him though," Natasha said. "He saved my life. How do I repay him for that?"

"Watch his back," Peggy said. "Find a life for yourself. If you really want something tangible, buy him a coffee or … something."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully.

The next time Peggy confiscated a nerf weapon from Clint, it was back in his hands within the hour, because someone had stolen it out of her desk.

Apparently Natasha had figured out how to 'pay back' her partner.

Phil ended up dealing with an angry Agent Sitwell (nursing a perfectly round red mark right in the middle of his forehead), while Peggy surveyed the two best assassins the agency had to offer, giggling in front of her desk like schoolchildren.

She couldn't even bring herself to pretend to be mad.

April 2004

Strike Team Delta - as Clint and Natasha came to be known - were the most successful partnership in SHIELD.

Despite that, they weren't always stationed together.

The most recent op had gone wrong, partly because they didn't have Hawkeye in a nest somewhere, and partly because bad info had left Peggy and Natasha fighting their way out of a back alley.

The flight back to New York was quiet, while Peggy patched Natasha's various injuries.

More than once, Natasha asked about hers, but Peggy dodged the question, promising to see medical when they were back at base.

Natasha arrived on her doorstep two days after they returned, with a bottle of vodka.

No one was really certain if Natasha really was Russian, but sometimes she took the stereotypes to extremes.

Peggy let her in, prepared for an intense discussion.

"Secrets are important," Natasha said by way of an opening.

She knew.

"They can be," Peggy agreed, fetching some glasses from the kitchen.

"You're entitled to yours," Natasha continued. "But I think I know it."

"Do you?" Peggy asked.

"You're Lady Liberty," Natasha said.

Peggy smiled, taking one of the glasses but not drinking yet. "Am I?"

"You grabbed a trash can lid to fight in that alley," Natasha said. "You didn't use it the way I would have. You used it like a shield. Like Lady Liberty does."

"Guilty as charged," Peggy said.

"But there's more than that," Natasha said. "Because you couldn't be the original. I figured that the papers were right about your great-aunt being the original. But if your aunt took over before you, there's a gap of about twenty years that couldn't have been either of you, because she was dead and you were a child."

"So what do you think now?" Peggy asked.

"Well, I figured that whoever was Lady Liberty in the gap between you and Belinda would have known the Starks," Natasha said, "so I had a look to see who went to the funeral. And I found this." She pulled out a newspaper clipping, an article that Peggy had missed the first time round.

Long-time PA absent from proceedings

Beneath the small byline, there was a short commentary about how Sharon Rogers had worked for Howard Stark for so long, yet not attended their funeral.

Beside the headline, there was a picture of her and Howard from about ten years before he died.

"That's you," Natasha said with certainty. "I've seen Peggy Carter's file, and I've seen Belinda Carter's file. At first, it looks like a strong family resemblance. But Sharon Rogers doesn't have any connection to the Carters, so there shouldn't be a resemblance. But there is."

Peggy sighed, handing her back the article and emptying her glass. The vodka burned as it went down, but otherwise had no impact on her. "This is Level Eight clearance," she warned. "But, yes, that is me. I received a serum in 1947. Clint knows, in case you were wondering."

Natasha nodded. "I figured he did."

And that was it.

Sharon and Natasha were friends, but she was no more hurt or insulted by the secrets than Nick Fury had over a decade earlier.

Somehow, though, Peggy wasn't surprised when Clint turned up that Mother's Day with both flowers and Natasha in tow.

August 2004

Several months after Natasha became the third person to learn her secret, Peggy added a fourth, and it was not anyone she would have predicted.

Admittedly, if she had been asked if she thought she would ever divulge classified information to anyone who wasn't cleared for it, and who that person would be, she probably would not have picked Clint, Bobbi and Natasha, but they did at least work for SHIELD.

And she did have reason for doing so - Clint suspected, Bobbi needed to know, and Natasha had figured it out.

No, the fourth person was the result of an unscheduled trip to California, which in turn led to an unannounced visit to Tony's Malibu home.

Stark Industries had continued to grow and thrive, continuing to be the leading weapons manufacturer in the world, and Tony had had a home built on the coast, complete with a built-in AI programme that still made Peggy's head spin.

She wasn't surprised he hadn't returned to New York - there were too many memories, and California was paradise (at least, that was how Tony described it - Peggy much preferred New York) - but if she didn't speak to Tony on a regular basis, she would be quite worried about him.

Increasingly, the media portrayed a man utterly detached from reality, an irresponsible playboy who wore the moniker 'Merchant of Death' like a badge of honour.

But, as much as Peggy hated how he felt he need to create such a front for the press, that was exactly what it was.

The only thing she worried about was how lonely he must have been.

Obadiah remained his second-in-command, but he had a house on the other side of town.

And Tony didn't date - just had the occasional (alright, frequent) one-night stand.

Personal assistants didn't last very long either. The record so far was one week, but Tony's long hours, strange habits, and unrivalled ability to put his foot in his mouth (how he could be so suave in front of a camera and then lose all common sense as soon as it was turned off, she didn't know) meant that the turnover was very high.

Peggy didn't blame them. God knew she loved him, but she could see how he could be difficult to deal with for anyone who hadn't raised him.

But it still left him alone in a large house, with only an AI and some robots for company.

Dum-E had been joined by two other bots, Yoo and Butterfingers, both of whom were as childishly delightful as the first, but JARVIS (Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, Tony had told her, named after his father's faithful butler) was in a league of his own.

After he was built, Tony had programmed him not to put through any calls to Peggy if he'd been drinking, not wanting to worry her.

Peggy became aware of exactly how much Tony's creation had ballooned out of control when she received a call informing her that her godson had drunk far too much and was currently risking starting a fire in his workshop.

She had assumed the call had come from a new personal assistant, but once Tony had sobered up, he - very shakily - told her that the AI had over-ridden Tony's commands and called her because he was worried.

It was almost unbelievable, considering that the internet was still in its infancy.

Then again, the bots predated the internet entirely.

Ten years on, the rest of the world still hadn't caught up.

But JARVIS, Dum-E, Yoo and Butterfingers, as delightful as they were, weren't human.

Today, however, when Peggy knocked on the front door (a flash of her badge got her past the security on the gate), it was a human who opened the door, a pretty, professional-looking redhead.

"Good morning," Peggy greeted. "My name is Sharon Carter; I'm an old family friend of Tony's. Is he busy?"

"Mr Stark has nothing scheduled," the woman said, looking like she wasn't sure whether to believe her. "However, he has asked not to be disturbed."

Peggy sighed and stepped neatly past the woman before she could protest. "Workshop? How long this time?"

At her question, the woman (presumably Tony's new PA) relaxed slightly, as though anyone who understood Tony's habits was likely to be telling the truth. "He was in the workshop when I arrived at eight. He said he'd been in there half an hour."

"JARVIS?" Peggy asked, looking towards the ceiling automatically.

"Good morning, Miss Carter," JARVIS greeted, using her preferred title in company. "As I told Miss Potts, Sir did actually sleep last night."

"Well, will wonders never cease," Peggy said, turning to 'Miss Potts' with a smile. "Tony slept and you actually asked JARVIS. I apologise if that sounds patronising," she added hastily, "but the last God knows how many PAs haven't bothered."

Most had been rather unnerved by him actually.

A horrible thought struck her. "You are the new PA, aren't you? Because if you're actually his girlfriend, I need to stop talking."

Miss Potts laughed. "No, I'm his PA. Can I ask how you know him?"

"It's a bit complicated," Peggy said, not untruthfully. "My great-aunt was friends with his father. She passed away before Tony was born, but Howard and Maria kept that friendship up with her family. Tony and I have known each other since he was a child."

If Miss Potts noticed the specific turn of phrase, she didn't comment. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"A cup of tea would be lovely," Peggy said. "How long have you been working here, Miss Potts?"

"Pepper," she corrected, putting the kettle on. "Well, Virginia, but Mr Stark insists on Pepper."

"He would," Peggy said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't mind," Pepper assured her. "I've been working for Stark Industries for about three years, in Finance, and then a report came across my desk with a calculation error, so I told my boss, who told his boss, who told Mr Stark, who came and asked me to be his PA, because the old one just quit. I agreed until he could find a new one, but that was a month ago."

"A month?" Peggy asked. "Most don't last past a week."

"I'm not surprised," Pepper said, before wincing. "I mean …"

"No, it's okay," Peggy said. "I know what he's like."

"Then you know why I'm still here," Pepper said, handing her a mug.

"Thank you." Peggy took a sip of tea. It was exactly the kind she liked, which made her smile.

She saw Tony in person so rarely these days, and yet he still kept her preferred brand of tea stocked just in case.

"Humour me. Why are you still here?"

"Because sometimes I see another side of him," Pepper answered. "He can be difficult, but the man that the media sees - the 'Merchant of Death'? That's not him. He doesn't need a PA, not really. JARVIS can do everything I do. He needs someone that doesn't have an off-switch - no offence JARVIS."

"None taken, Miss Potts."

"He needs someone that can't be programmed to let him work through the night and who can knock some sense into him."

Peggy couldn't fight the smile that broke on to her face. "Pepper, I assume there's a confidentiality clause in your contract?"

"Of course," Pepper said, looking confused.

"Sharon!"

Peggy rose from her chair, giving Tony a once-over as he approached. Satisfied, she took his hand and pecked his cheek in greeting. "Sorry for dropping by uninvited."

"Nonsense," Tony said. "You know my door's always open for you. JARVIS knows that, don't you, J?"

"Mr Stark has indeed made such a statement many times."

"This is Pepper," Tony said. "Have you met Pepper?"

"We've been having a lovely chat," Peggy said. "In fact, I think we should probably tell her the truth."

Tony froze for a moment, then relaxed. "Oh, good. Because I trust Pepper more than the last PAs put together."

"Is that why you're not looking for a new one?" Pepper asked sweetly.

"Guilty," Tony said immediately. "Sorry."

Pepper sighed. "Mr Stark …"

"You're the best PA I've had," Tony said bluntly. "You put up with my crap, you actually talk to me and challenge me and … Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent conversation partner?"

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "I am not having sex with you."

Peggy didn't quite choke on her tea, but it was a close thing.

There was no heat in Pepper's voice at all, she wasn't offended. Just … testing the waters.

"I'm not asking," Tony said. "Seriously. Not that you're not a knock-out, because …"

"Tony …" Peggy said warningly.

"Right." Tony gave Pepper a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Pepper looked from one to the other. "Yes, I think you should tell me the truth."

"My name isn't Sharon," Peggy said. "It's Peggy. I'm the great-aunt I told you about. I received a serum in 1947 that slowed my ageing."

"She's my godmother," Tony said, pressing a kiss to her head. "Aunt Peggy practically raised me."

"Oh, that's the weird vibe," Pepper said. "I was half-expecting you to tell me you were married or something."

Tony barked out a laugh. "Me getting married. That's a riot."

Peggy had once thought the same of Howard, but knew better than to comment. "I'm telling you in confidence, Pepper. I'd rather not become a lab rat."

Pepper nodded immediately. "Of course, Miss Carter. I understand completely. I have some errands to run; I'll give you two some space. Will that be all, Mr Stark?"

Tony's eyes softened a little as he looked at her, in a way that made Peggy wonder if he even realised they were doing it. "That will be all, Miss Potts."

May 2008

Taking Pepper into confidence turned out to be one of the best ideas Peggy had ever had.

Despite having what might have been the most difficult job in North America, her role in Tony's life was obviously permanent.

In fact, it became almost unheard of for Tony to appear anywhere in public without Pepper somewhere in his periphery.

She made sure he ate, physically forced him to business meetings when he threatened to stay in his lab, kept the media hounds at bay, and basically stood by him through thick and thin.

Peggy adored her.

On May 20th 2008, Peggy called Pepper to wish her a happy birthday, guessing (correctly) that Tony would have forgotten (again).

They chatted for a bit, Pepper assured Peggy that she had gotten herself a nice pair of shoes on Tony's credit card (with his permission), and that was that.

On May 21st 2008, Peggy's world fell apart for the third time.

She was woken by her phone ringing, a number she didn't recognise flashing on the screen, so she answered it with some trepidation. "Carter."

"Agent Carter, this is Colonel Rhodes."

Peggy jolted out of bed, her heart dropping into her stomach.

Colonel James Rhodes was an old friend of Tony's, who was supposed to be in Afghanistan with Tony, who was demonstrating the new Jericho missile to the troops. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

Somehow, her voice was steady, even though she was already dressing, prepared for trouble.

"I … I hope you don't mind, ma'am, but Tony told me who you are … told me ages ago … just in case …"

"Forget the reasoning," Peggy said, more harshly than she intended. "What happened?"

"There was an ambush, ma'am. His escort are dead. There's no sign of him anywhere."