Dealing with the Unfair

It had been a rare weekday where Peggy had been able to make it home from work not long after Natasha had gotten home from school. It was a small but treasured moment where she got to sit at the kitchen table with her daughter and help Natasha with her homework on a Thursday afternoon. She had a cup of tea in her favorite cup, Natasha had chocolate milk, and they were sharing a plate of chocolate chip cookies that Angie had made. It was all very domestic, and Peggy marveled at it. It even included Angie starting dinner in an apron. Peggy couldn't help the warm smile on her lips, nor the soft contented sigh before sipping her tea. Moments like these, peaceful, happy, moments with her family, is why she did what she did. This made everything she had to do outside the safety of her home, worth it.

Catching Angie's eye, her wife turning to look at her upon hearing the sigh, Peggy smiled lovingly at her. Then she turned her gaze to Natasha just in time to see a look of confusion on her sweet face. Natasha had just turned thirteen, and had recently returned to school to finish her seventh grade year. She was starting to lose the last of the roundness in her face, looking less and less like a little girl and more like the budding teenager she was becoming. They'd spent the New Year in California and all that time in the sun had lightened her hair a bit, which was all a single length and just brushing past her shoulders. As soon as she'd gotten home Natasha had changed out of her school uniform and into a pair of old jeans and a Spice Girls t-shirt. "Something wrong, poppet?"

Natasha had her history books open, her class notebook out, and a legal pad she was using to take notes for the report she had to write. "We're covering the war in class, and there's a section in this book Mr. Henderson gave us, because he didn't like the textbook Mrs. Kennedy was using," Her normal history teacher hadn't returned from winter break because she was on maternity leave, and Natasha didn't care for her sub, not one bit. "About Captain America." She pauses for a moment, watching her Mum closely to make sure this was ok to talk about. Peggy gave her a soft reassuring smile so she went on. "It has this list of reasons why Captain Rogers was chosen, his loyalty, persistence, intelligence, courage, and selflessness."

Peggy nods, a warm smile on her lips as she allows herself to indulge in her memories. "Dr. Erskine wanted someone with great moral strength. Steve, Captain Rogers, had that in spades."

Natasha crinkled her nose and twisted her lips up in a way that said something didn't make sense to her and she didn't like it. "But they already had someone with moral strength, plus the military training and skills to go with it."

"Did they?" Peggy asked, curious to see where her daughter was going with this.

"Yeah, they had you, Mummy." Natasha said firmly, her eyes and smile radiating pride. "Why didn't they choose you to be Captain America?"

Peggy chuckled, "Well, for starters I wasn't American."

And before Peggy could say more than that Angie said, "The real reason, angel, is because your Mummy had tits, a vagina, and a womb."

Peggy's brown eyes widened a bit at her wife's cheeky response. "Angela!"

"What?" Angie replies with such innocence her wife can't help but laugh.

Peggy just shakes her head as she continues to chuckle. Turning her attention back to Natasha she turns a bit more serious as she says, "I wouldn't have said it the way Mama did, but yes, that is the reason, love. It wouldn't have crossed anyone's mind to even consider me because I was a woman. The intention of the program was to create super soldiers, and women were not considered soilers."

"That's crap." Natasha replies angrily. "You lead the Commandos, you were a soldier."

"In action but not on paper." Peggy tells her. "In most history books that mention the 107th or the Howling Commandos, Steve is often cast as their commander."

"That's bullshit." Natasha huffs at the unfairness and injustice of it.

Angie laughs. Peggy scolds. "Natasha."

"It is." The girl argues. "It's a lie, and it's not fair."

Peggy sighs softly as she reaches across the table to tuck a strand of her daughter's hair behind her ear. She and Angie had made it a priority to raise their daughter to know her own value, and one of the hardest things about doing that was explaining that the outside world did not always agree with that value. "No, my love, it isn't fair. Things have improved since then, but they are still far from being fair."

Natasha spends a week working on her report. She uses the outdated textbook Mr. Henderson gave them to use, as well as her normal one, she uses class notes, and even calls her uncles to ask questions. She's very proud of the work she puts into the assignment and smiles at her teacher as she hands it in.

Angie is on the train back to D.C. after doing an early Monday morning interview with a local theater morning show, where she'd talked about the new play she was workshopping with a new playwright, when she gets the phone call from Natasha's history teacher asking for a parent-teacher conference that afternoon. He won't tell her what it's about, only that it was important they do it that day. She's frowning and concerned when she calls Peggy to ask if she can get away from work to join her, Peggy promises she will. Angie heads home to change, her mind racing with possibilities as to why their daughter's teacher needed to speak to them so badly. Natasha wasn't the type to get into trouble at school, though it was known to happen occasionally, but this wasn't a call from the principal, it was a teacher. Natasha took her studies seriously, even the subjects she didn't like, and though it wasn't one of her favorite subjects Natasha enjoyed history.

Thirty minutes after the end of the school day Angie made her way up to Natasha's history class on the third floor. The door was open, but she knocked on it anyway before stepping in. The first thing she noticed was that Natasha wasn't in the room. The second was the man, older than her by a good decade and half, who looked up from his work when she's knocked. Angie was good at reading people, and she could tell by the way he looked her up and down in her slacks, blouse, and leather jacket, that she didn't like him. "Mr. Henderson? I'm Angela Martinelli-Carter, Natasha's mother."

Henderson stands and motions for Angie to come inside. "Yes, Mrs. Carter, thank you for coming." His gaze darts towards the door as if he expects someone to follow, and then looks at Angie and asks, "Will your husband be joining us?"

"No, I don't have a husband," Angie replies to the all too familiar question. While she and Peggy had been married as far as they were concerned for nearly thirteen years, it wasn't legally recognized. They'd gotten a legal domestic partnership as soon as they moved to D.C., and filed in New York as soon as they could, which was about a year ago. It didn't matter to Angie what the legality of it was, she still always referred to Peggy as her wife. "But my…"

"You're a single parent." Henderson said, cutting Angie off as he waved her into a seat in front of his desk while retaking his own seat. "That would explain a lot about Natasha's attitude."

"I am not a single parent, and even if I were, that judgmental comment was out of line." Angie said firmly. "My wife is on her way, but we can get started without her. What do you mean by Natasha's attitude?"

Henderson looked confused before his face twisted in unconcealed judgement. "Are you Natasha's actual mother? I can only talk to her real parents regarding her."

Anger was bubbling in Angie's chest despite the fact that this wasn't the first time she and Peggy had been faced with this kind of thing. "My wife," She emphasized the word. "and I are both Natasha's legal mothers. The school has all of the proper paperwork on the matter. Now, Mr. Henderson, you gonna tell me why I'm here?"

Henderson eyed her for a long moment before reaching for something at the end of his desk, which he then handed to Angie. "The class was recently given an assignment to write about a topic from the war era."

Angie nods before looking down at the collection of stapled pages in her hand. "Natasha worked hard on her report." Glancing down she sees Natasha's name on the title page of her assignment, along with the underlined title, 'Sexium During the Second Great War.' The corner of her lip twitches into a small smile, and then she flips the title page over and sees the thick red F at the top of the first page. Angie's head snaps up, her blue-green eyes full of fire. "An F?"

"Natasha's report is full of made up facts and quotes." Henderson nods, his elbows on the desk, his fingers steepled together. "It's more a work of fiction than a proper analysis of history events and figures."

"The hell it is." Angie replies angrily. She isn't the type of parent who thinks their kid is perfect and doesn't make mistakes. If Natasha does something wrong, she holds her child accountable for her actions. If Natasha makes mistakes, she and Peggy teach her how to correct her mistakes, how to learn from them, and how to avoid making them again. She is the type of parent who will defend her child tooth and nail when someone else is in the wrong.

Henderson sighs an exasperated sigh as if this is the most taxing thing he's ever had to face. "Natasha makes the claim that Margaret Carter was a soldier, a leader, an actual member of the 107th Infantry Regiment. Margaret Carter was a field nurse and secretary…"

"The bloody hell I was." Peggy says from the doorway of the classroom.

Angie turns at the sound of her wife's voice and then turns to see Henderson's expression. She smirks at the confused look on his face as he looks at Peggy as if he knows her but seeing her can't possibly be real. She stands and reaches for the text book on his desk, dropping the old out of date one he used into the trash beside his desk before opening the book the kids were given at the start of the year. As she flipped through the pages Angie says, "Mr. Henderson, this is my wife, Margaret Carter, and before you ask, yes, she is also Natasha's legal mother."

Henderson jumps when Angie slams an open text book on his desk. He turns his head to look, finding the book open to a page displaying a picture of a younger version of the woman who had just walked into his classroom. Then he looks back up at the woman who had easily moved across the room, her commanding presence bearing down on him, and was now standing beside Angie.

"I do apologize for being late." Peggy says, her dark eyed gaze flickering back and forth between her wife and their daughter's teacher. "There was a bit of trouble on the Beltway." Settling her gaze on Angie she asks, "Have I missed much, darling?"

"We were just getting started." Angie tells her. "Mr. Henderson was just explaining to me why he gave Nattie an F on her report because it's, according to him, full of make believe and evil feminist lies made up by a child whose been clearly corrupted by having same-sex parents."

Peggy blinked. She took the packet of stapled papers from her wife and began looking through it before looking up at the man across the desk from them. "I would very much like an explanation, Mr. Henderson." She turned to look around the room, taking note of Natasha's absenance. "I would also very much like to know where my daughter is."

"Detention." Henderson replies after clearing his throat. "When I confronted Natasha about what she'd written she tried defending herself by saying the quotes were not made up, that she had gotten them from the men in question herself. When she continued to insist she knew members of the Howling Commandos, on top of insisting she didn't make up her facts, she was given ten days worth of detention."

"I see." Peggy says as she glances down at Natasha's paper again. Her eye is drawn to a red pen mark and she reads the line that's caused its existence on the page. 'The fact that Steven Rogers was chosen over more qualified candidates simply because he was a white, American, male, was bullshit.' She fights back a smirk, and makes a mental note to talk to Natasha about the use of the word bullshit in academic writing. Then she looks up and over at her wife, "Darling, I've left my purse in the car, may I see your wallet please?"

Angie raised an eyebrow as she reached for her purse and handed it over. She watched with amusement as Peggy removed her wallet, opened it, and shifted through the photographs she kept in it. Now she understood. Peggy didn't carry personal photographs for security purposes, but Angie damn near carried a full photo album in her wallet.

The picture Peggy removes from Angie's wallet was taken three years ago at the annual Howlie cookout. Peggy and the remaining Howling Commandos are in a nearly identical grouping as the photo in the open text book on the desk. The only differences are their fallen brothers in arms are missing, and Natasha is perched atop Dum Dum's shoulders. She places the picture beside the picture in the textbook, her heated gaze forcing the man across from her to look down at it. "I served side by side with those men during the war. Our daughter knows each and every one of them as an uncle." Again, with only her gaze she forced Henderson to look up at her. "You work in a school, Mr. Henderson, where the vast majority of the student body knows or knew the people in your outdated textbook, or from your morning paper, or from the sandstone buildings you drive past everyday. Perhaps you should not be so quick to call them out for lying simply because you do not like or agree with what they've written."

Henderson flexes his jaw. The shock of having someone he's seen in history books walk into his classroom had ebbed, and now he was faced with the reality of a real person. A real person whose presence was contracting everything he thought he knew. "The fact that Natasha does in fact know members of the 107th doesn't change the fact that she ignored historical fact and made up her own historical narrative."

"Facts such as me being a field nurse?" Peggy's voice is level but hard, cold, like steel encased in ice. "The textbook you required the children to use over the Board of Trustee approved textbook is severely out of date, Mr. Henderson. Current textbooks have the correct information regarding my service and role in the war. I was a Special Operations Executive agent with the military rank of commander. I served as the S.O.E. liaison and command officer, under Colonel Chester Phillips, for the joint project known as the Strategic Scientific Reserve. I was not Phillips' secretary, I was his second."

"That may or may not be fact, but what is an actual fact is that Captain America commanded the Howling Commandos." Henderson argued.

Peggy smirked. "He did, but who do you think Captain Rogers reported to, Mr. Henderson? Me." Her smirk melted away into a hard line as she said, "Now, if you please," She indicated the inter campus phone on the wall that would allow him to contact other rooms and offices on campus. "If you would be so kind as to have Natasha sent up from detention so she can be present to face her accuser, I would appreciate that, and I would also very much like Principal Lawrence to join us as well."

Natasha was so angry, and she didn't know what to do with it. She was fighting back tears, her head was throbbing, her heart was racing, her muscles were tense, and her stomach hurt. Adults talked down to kids all the time, she could have let that slide, but to be called a liar, and to not be heard when she tried to explain that she wasn't, that pissed her off. She wished more than anything that Hope was still here to talk to, to help her figure this out, to reassure her that it would be ok. She missed her best friend. She knew Mr. Henderson had called her Ma and asked to see her parents. A part of her was afraid she would be in trouble, ten days worth of detention? They were going to be so pissed, and she hadn't even done anything wrong! When the teacher on detention duty hung up the phone and told her to go to Mr. Henderson's class, Natasha's heart dropped into her stomach, which then twisted up into a painful knot.

When she walked into the classroom to find her mothers, her Mum looking mad, her Ma looking oddly amused, Natasha launched into a rant about what happened, and because she didn't want Mr. Henderson to know what she was saying, she did it in Italian so both of her mothers would understand.

Peggy walks over to her daughter full of concern at the sight of her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were watery, her hand was pressed hard against her stomach. She reaches out and holds Natasha's face in her hands, and replies in Italian to Natasha's pleas of not having done anything wrong with gentle reassurance. Once Natasha is calmer, Peggy guilds her over to Angie who repeats and re-enforces what Peggy had already said. Natasha wasn't in any kind of trouble, and they would clear this up.

"Director Carter," Principal Lawrence greeted as he walked into the room. Publically Peggy was director of an international security and intelligence program through the U.N.. The best long term cover stories always had hints of the truth in them. "Mrs. Martinelli-Carter. Wonderful to see you both again. What can I do for you?"

Peggy explains, Mr. Henderson defends his position, and Principal Lawrence does his best to mediate. Since Natasha didn't lie, so her punishment was voided, and Principal Lawrence promised to have her report looked over and regraded by one of the other history teachers. He was more than a little surprised that Henderson had rejected the school approved curriculum for his own. Henderson was appalled at the idea of apologizing, his distaste for the Carters evident, and was told that perhaps he wasn't a proper fit for the school. Natasha was a bit astonished and relieved.

Even though everything worked out in Natasha's favor she just couldn't seem to shake the hard little pit of anger the whole incident had caused, it weighed heavily in her chest, and she didn't seem able to express it to her mothers. Thankfully Peggy and Angie were fairly good at reading their daughter's non-verbal cues, and knew something was bothering her. They were able to talk it through and figure out that Natasha must still be bothered by what happened in school, and then work out a way to help Natasha deal with her negative emotions.

Natasha awakens slowly, leisurely, snuggling into her pillows and comforter with a sleepy sigh. Then she suddenly bolts upright, her blue-green eyed gaze seeking out the time on her alarm clock. She squeaks with panic and leaps from her bed. She's going to be late for school! Why hadn't her alarm gone off? Why hadn't her mothers come up to wake her? When she burst into the kitchen, trying to simultaneously button her white blouse and tuck it into her plaid skirt, Natasha came to a sudden stop when she saw her mothers at the kitchen table. They were both still in their dressing gowns. Peggy was sitting in her chair with paper in hand, coffee and toast to her right, and a bowl of porridge with brown sugar and raises set in front of her. Angie stood behind her wife reading over Peggy's shoulder while playing with Peggy's chestnut hair with one hand and sipping from the mug of coffee she had held in the other. Natasha was very confused.

Peggy smirked at the look on Natasha's face as she greeted, "Good morning, poppet. Sleep well my darling?"

"It's Friday." Natasha replies, her eyes darting back and forth between her mothers' smiling faces. "I have school, you let me over sleep."

"It is Friday, yes, but you're not going to school today." Peggy says as she feels Angie withdraw from behind her, most likely to get Natasha's breakfast. "It's a half day, so you won't be missing anything. I've made plans for you and I today."

Natasha blinks. "Oh." She blinks again and then slowly starts to smile. "Ok."

Angie laughs as she walks over to their girl and wraps her in a good morning hug. She smiled when she felt their newly branded teenager cuddle into her embrace, and then kissed Natasha's temple. "Go sit, angel, I'll get your breakfast."

Natasha's porridge, not oatmeal they're different she can hear her Mum saying in her head, is topped with peanut butter and honey. It's placed on the table in front of her along with a glass of orange juice. She feels her Ma kiss the crown of her head before moving off to take her own seat at the table after getting her breakfast and refilling hers and Peggy's coffee. Natasha sits there for a long moment staring at them as if she's trying to figure out if they're really her moms or pod people.

Peggy chuckles at the look. "We have both had very long and difficult weeks, love. I thought we both could use a bit of a long weekend."

Her mother's reassuring smile helps Natasha to relax and soon she finds herself excited by the idea of spending the day with her Mum. After breakfast she's sent upstairs to change into something casual and returns in jeans and red and black flannel over a black tank top. After they drop Angie off at the train station so she can go to work, Peggy drives them to a part of D.C. that Natasha's pretty sure she's never been in before. It's historic and old, and in an odd way reminds Natasha of the neighborhoods back in New York with its two or three story store front buildings, and it's five to eight story apartment blocks. They pull up in front of one of the two story buildings and Peggy feeds the parking meter for ninety minutes after grabbing a large gym bag out of the trunk of the car and settling it on her shoulder.

Natasha is curious about what they're doing as she follows her Mum inside. They'd talked on the ride over, but not about what they were doing. Natasha didn't really care what they did, for her it was all about spending the day with her Mum, just the two of them. Finding herself in what looked like a boxing gym wasn't even on her list of possibilities though. What on earth were they doing in a boxing gym? An empty boxing gym from the look of it, a nice one for sure, but there wasn't anyone in the space. Not until her mother called out a soft hello, and then a man who looked a little older than her mother walked out of what Natasha was assuming was an office.

Peggy smiled as a tall, broad shouldered, dark skinned man made his way towards them. "Isaiah, what a wonderful surprise! I wasn't expecting you to come in personally. How are you, my friend?"

Isaiah Bradley was a war vet and only survivor of a secret program by the government to recreate Project Rebirth. "Feelin' pretty good these days." He replies to Peggy's greeting, a wide smile on his aging face as he embraces her. "It's good to see you again, Peggy."

"It's good to see you too, Isaiah." Peggy replies as she hugs him. The serum used on Isaiah wasn't even close to what was used on Steve, and while it had given him some enhanced abilities during the war, over time it had leached from his body leaving him in a state of physical deterioration. "I really appreciate you opening up early for me."

Isaiah continued to smile as he stepped back from the much smaller English woman. "Anything for you, Peggy, you know that."

Peggy returned his smile as she directed his attention to the girl lingering just off to her side and slightly behind her. "Isaiah, this is my Natasha." Then she directed her words at Natasha. "Nattie, this is Isaiah Bradley, he and I served in the war together."

Natasha smiled a bright and warm smile because she always loved meeting people who knew her mother before she did. Holding out her hand as she took a few steps closer to the man who towered over both her and her mother, Natasha said, "It's an honor to meet you Mr. Bradley. Thank you for your service, Sir."

Isaiah shook the girl's hand and returned her smile. "It's nice to finally meet you as well, Natasha."

She knew that since she hadn't met the man until now he wasn't a Howling Commando, but she did ask, "Were you a part of the 107th, Sir?"

"Not officially, no." Isaiah replied. His face took on a softer expression as he turned to look at Peggy. "And not until much later into the war, not until this teeny tiny English woman came busted into the POW camp I was in with her pack of misfit soldiers, like she was some kind of force of nature. After that, well, I tagged along for a bit."

The look of respect that passed between the two adults caused pride to swell in Natasha's chest. After a few more moments of chatting, Isaiah excused himself to get some work done, and Peggy led Natasha back to the locker room. Peggy pulled out some work out clothes and shoes and handed them to Natasha to change into before gathering up her own.

"Mum?" Natasha finally questioned when Peggy led her out to a punching bag. "What are we doing here?"

"Sometimes we bottle up our feelings because we don't know how to express them." Peggy begins to explain as she looks into her daughter's eyes as she wraps her daughter's hands to protect them when they get started. "Feelings like anger and frustration, that settles like a heavy stone on your chest. I'm going to show you a way to loosen those feelings up, a way to break apart that stone, and get all of that out because it's not good to bottle it all up."

Natasha blinked, surprised and yet grateful that her mother had been able to tell she was struggling when she hadn't been able to tell her so. "Ok."

Peggy smiles at her girl, and then moves to stand behind her as she gives her instructions. She asks Natasha to make a fist, and nods when it's done correctly. Then she adjusts the way Natasha holds her arms, and her stance, and they slip easily into Natasha's first lesson. It isn't until the end of their hour long session that Natasha finally taps into what's bothering her, and talks to her mother about it.

After that trips to the gym became a regular thing that mother and daughter did together on a regular basis. It's the reason why, years down the line from that first lesson, Steve Rogers is taken aback as he watches Agent Romanoff fight, because shit, the redhead throws a punch just like Peggy did.