In which time marches on, Peggy reconnects with an old friend, and she learns more about the Winter Soldier.

February 2009

Peggy hadn't been able to put an official commendation on Rhodes' file, because it turned out he had actually been disobeying orders in continuing to search for Tony.

Obviously this did nothing to lessen Peggy's opinion of the man, but it did mean that her gratitude would need to be shown in a less obvious way.

It took several discussions with Pepper and a search of her attic before she came up with an answer.

Her SHIELD identification got her access to most military bases, and the Air Force base where Rhodes was stationed was no exception.

Amazingly, even though he and Tony had been friends for years, this was the first time she was actually meeting the man.

He had his own office, a fairly nice one given his rank, and she tapped lightly on the door to get his attention.

"Colonel Rhodes? Agent Carter."

"Agent Carter!" Rhodes jumped to his feet to round his desk and shake her hand. "I'm not sure if I should salute or not."

"Technically you outrank me, Colonel," Peggy said, giving him a smart salute. "I wanted to come and thank you personally."

"It's really not necessary," Rhodes said.

"Please don't tell me you were just doing your job, Colonel," Peggy said dryly.

Rhodes chuckled. "Fair enough, Agent Carter. Although, please call me Rhodey."

"Then please call me Sharon," Peggy said. "Here at least. I do need to thank you. I know he got himself out of there, but there's only so long a man can wander the desert. If it weren't for you … Well, I'm sure we've both thought about that enough."

"He's my best friend," Rhodey said quietly. "I know the brass think he's a nightmare, but that's because they don't know him. But that's preaching to the choir, isn't it?"

Peggy smiled. "It is rather. I actually wanted to give you an official commendation, but not even SHIELD can get that through, given the circumstances."

"I completely understand," Rhodey said. "I didn't do it for the accolades."

"You brought him home," Peggy said firmly. "There is nothing I can say that will fully explain what that means to me." She pulled a small wrapped package from her bag. "I insist that you accept this."

Rhodey looked like he would have argued, but the glint in her eye apparently convinced him otherwise. "Thank you."

Beneath the paper was a framed portrait of a man who was still alive (just about) but who hadn't looked like that for many years.

"Pepper told me that your inspiration for joining the military was Gabe Jones," Peggy said softly. "And Captain Rogers happened to be an excellent artist."

"He was," Rhodey agreed faintly. "I can't …"

"Either accept it, or it goes back into a box in my attic," Peggy told him firmly. "And it shouldn't be in a box in my attic."

"No, it shouldn't," Rhodey said. "Thank you."

Gabriel Jones was the last surviving Howling Commando.

Three weeks after her visit to the Air Force, Peggy got the call she had been expecting for months from his grandson, Antoine.

With the exception of Howard, the others had passed peacefully, and Gabe was no exception.

By all accounts, he had taken his afternoon nap and just … not woken up.

As with the others, Peggy attended the funeral and tried not to cry to an excess that would look strange to his family (who still had no idea who she was).

When she returned to New York, she took a few days off work.

It wasn't her finest idea - she ended up flipping through old photo albums and feeling quite maudlin.

Even though she had her colleagues, and Tony, and Clint and Natasha, Peggy had never felt so alone in the world.

Then, in the photo album, she came across an old photograph of the Commandos from the war, one that included an old ally that she hadn't thought about for years.

He hadn't been a Commando, and he'd refused to have anything to do with SHIELD when it started up (having no trust in government organisations at all), but she'd run into him about forty years previously.

At the time, she hadn't considered that he didn't look much older, since he had always been rather rugged and - dare she say it - ageless, but after Howard had introduced her (as Sharon Rogers), he had snorted and handed her a telephone number, in case she needed to get hold of him.

It hadn't made any sense, but now she found herself remembering how his senses had been as sharp as Steve's after the serum, and how his wounds had healed so quickly.

Steve had even asked him once if he had been an early candidate of Project Rebirth.

He hadn't, he'd said, but there were people who were born with abilities.

It took Peggy a few hours to find the number, but when she did, she called it immediately.

A young woman answered to her disappointment.

"Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, how can I help?"

"I'm looking for James Howlett," Peggy said. "Um, Logan, he used to go by?"

"Can I ask who's calling?"

"Sharon Carter," Peggy said. "I'm the great-niece of an old friend."

"One moment please."

Peggy fidgeted.

When he came to the phone, his voice sounded amused. "Been wondering when you'd call, Madge."

He never did get into the habit of calling her Peggy.

"How did you know?" Peggy asked.

"Everyone smells different," he said. "Figured you were keeping it quiet for a reason. Everyone here can keep a secret, don't worry."

Peggy huffed out a breath. "Are you free to meet for coffee? I could use … I could use a conversation with someone who was … there."

She met him outside a café in one of the small suburbs on the outskirts of Queens.

It wasn't really warm enough to sit outside, but he clearly hadn't kicked his habit of smoking his old cigars, since she smelled him before she saw him.

"They don't like me doing this inside," he said in greeting. "People complain about the smell."

"That's fine," Peggy said. "I'm wrapped up."

Logan had never been one for hugging, so she was surprised - and grateful - when he embraced her in welcome. "It's good to see you, Madge."

"It's good to see you too," she whispered.

They sat down, Logan signalling to the waitress as he did.

"Cappuccino please," Peggy said, when she was in earshot. "It took me a long time to figure out why you gave me your number."

Logan nodded. "Figured you'd realise eventually. How'd it happen?"

"Howard Stark," Peggy answered.

Logan snorted. "Say no more. Same as Steve?"

"Pretty much." Peggy eyed his cigar. "Do you get anything from that?"

"Just the taste," Logan said. "'S why I don't bother with cigarettes. Ain't the same."

Peggy nodded. "Can't tell you how many times I've wanted to get black-out drunk over the last fifty years."

"Still searching for him?" Logan asked.

Peggy didn't answer immediately, giving the waitress a smile as she set her drink down. She added a couple of sachets of sugar and stirred it around a few times.

"We've never stopped," she said finally. "We know more or less where he went down. We found one of the weapons that was on board. But … how do you lose a plane?"

"Great talent," Logan said.

"You were born with it, right?" Peggy asked. "Your … special gifts?"

"Most of it," Logan said. "I did have a run-in with Department X before I met you lot. They gave me a souvenir." His eyes cut downwards and Peggy followed his gaze automatically to where his hand rested on his thigh.

He made a fist and, with a soft noise, three blades erupted from his knuckles.

Peggy sucked in a breath. "Jesus Christ."

They disappeared just as quickly and he took another sip of coffee. "Yup."

"If I ask about the phone number," Peggy said, "are you going to get paranoid?"

"Nah, Fury knows about it," Logan said dismissively. "And he knows not to get involved." He stubbed out his cigar. "I'm not the only one born with … abilities. Lot of kids are. They need somewhere to go. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that can teach them. Met Professor Xavier about … Christ, gotta be about fifty years ago now. He was a young man then. Telepathic. He was picking up all sorts from people around him. He created this computer that amplified his abilities and helped him find kids that needed help."

"That's incredible," Peggy murmured.

"I've already asked him," Logan said. "He does a sweep every few months to see if he can find Steve, but …"

Peggy shook her head. "He's dead, Logan. As talented as this man is, I would imagine someone needs to be alive to find brain waves. But thank you."

"Heard about Gabe," Logan said. "He the last one?"

Peggy swallowed hard, her voice failing her for a few moments. "Just you and me now."

Logan nodded. "It's a weekend so there ain't any classes today. Wanna come and meet some of the kids?"

Peggy thought for a moment. "Yes. Yes I would."

October 2009

Peggy left Fury's office feeling like she had just gone two rounds in a boxing ring.

Not physically, of course, but it taken a lot to smooth over the latest issue.

She headed for medical, striding with purpose through the corridors of SHIELD, lower level agents scattering out of her way.

As she approached the room, she slowed down, not wanting to startle the occupants (at least the one who was awake).

Natasha was still out, her face pale against her shock of red hair, her breathing slow and steady.

Clint was perched on a chair next to the bed, gripping her hand. As she watched, he bent and whispered something in her ear, before brushing a kiss against her forehead.

Peggy cleared her throat, almost sorry when he started and appeared to ready himself for a fight before realising who it was.

Almost.

"I have delivered the reports to Director Fury," Peggy said, closing the door behind her. "You took all facts into consideration and made the decision that eliminating the target when you did was the best course of action, in spite of the extra intelligence we could have gathered."

To his credit, Clint did look a little sheepish. "Sorry."

Peggy folded her arms. "I appreciate that you and Natasha are partners, and that she doesn't do well in medical. Phil knows that as well. Please trust that, if she was dying or if she needed you, I would have pulled you out."

"I know," Clint murmured.

"Fury's not happy," Peggy said. "I've convinced him that you did not intentionally throw the op, but he's not happy. You're on suspension for two months."

"But …" Clint protested.

"That is the best outcome for all involved," Peggy said. "Aside from anything else, if you're not on suspension, we need to hire an agency nurse to look after Natasha."

Clint looked at his partner. "Yeah, alright, fair enough."

Peggy nodded. "Hit the showers, Agent Barton. I'll stay with her," she added, before he could argue.

Clint sighed. "She doesn't like painkillers. They used to drug her in the Red Room. You can't leave her alone."

"I won't," Peggy said, softening her tone. "Go."

"Yes ma'am."

Peggy waited until he had left the medical floor before she took the seat beside Natasha's bed. "I know you're awake."

Natasha opened her eyes, revealing a note of panic. "He told me he loved me."

Peggy sighed. "He thought you were unconscious, Nat. I doubt he's going to say anything when you're awake."

"That's not the point," Natasha said. "He does."

Peggy had known that for several years, but she decided not to tell her that. "How long have you been together?"

"We're not," Natasha said. "I mean … We don't … It's just sex."

"Does Clint know that?" Peggy asked.

"Yes," Natasha said firmly. "I can't … They broke me."

"You think because of the Red Room you're not capable of love?" Peggy asked gently.

"Love is for children," Natasha murmured.

Peggy squeezed her hand. "Well, they didn't show you any love when you were a child, dorogoy. Just be gentle with him please?"

Natasha nodded, her eyes softening a little. "He's not going to bring it up, is he?"

"Probably not," Peggy said. "Not unless you do."

Natasha gave a little nod.

"Did you see who shot you?" Peggy asked.

"It was the Winter Soldier," Natasha answered.

Peggy sucked in a breath. "Son of a bitch. You're lucky to be alive."

"No," Natasha said. "He wasn't trying to kill me. He was trying to kill my detail. I was just in the way. If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead."

It reminded Peggy of her encounter with the assassin in London, but something in Natasha's voice caught her attention.

"Natasha, have you met him before?"

Natasha nodded. "We used to work together. I assume his handlers had something to do with the Red Room."

"What can you tell me?" Peggy asked.

"He's dangerous," Natasha said. "But you know that. You know about the Red Room's use of the Chair."

Peggy tried not to shudder.

Any girls in the Red Room who started to rebel were put in a chair that sent electric pulses into their brain, calibrated to make them more compliant.

"It was perfected on him," Natasha continued softly, "to a far greater extent. Whoever or whatever he was before was … destroyed, so they could put the Winter Soldier in. Between missions, they keep him on ice."

"What do you mean, on ice?" Peggy asked, dreading the answer.

"Cryogenics," Natasha said. "They freeze him. He's got … I suppose it's similar to you. The serum."

Peggy closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to keep the nausea from welling up. Natasha took her hand again, and she hid a smile.

One day, Natasha would realise that she could love, and was capable of it, and was safe to do so.

Today was not that day.

"You worked with him?" Peggy asked hoarsely.

"He helped train us," Natasha said. "Hand-to-hand. He took a … liking to me. Not in that way," she added hastily. "But we worked well together, so they sent us on a couple of missions together."

"They stopped," Peggy said.

Natasha nodded. "The longer he's out of cryo, I think he starts remembering. The first two ops were about a week, and he was a little off by the time we finished. The last one was in Moscow, the national ballet. It lasted a little longer than planned - about ten days, I think. He woke me in the middle of the night, said we needed to go. I didn't argue - we were trained not to - but we didn't go to extraction. We were in Italy before they caught up with us. He knocked me out so they wouldn't punish me for it. We never saw him again after that. I assume they decided it was better to just … get him out, do the job and put him back again."

"Did he ever give you a name?" Peggy asked.

"Yakov," Natasha said softly. "His name was James."