A/N: Not as quick an updated as I wanted, but you know life...But thank you for sticking with me and the story! And welcome to new readers!
This chapter also features the first of my changes in the plot in relation to the MCU :)
Disclaimer is the same for all chapters.
Enjoy :)
Typhoon: The First Avengers
Chapter Twelve: Michael
January 5, 1942 - Hampstead, England
It had been around twenty-four hours since Grace had been left in the care of Peggy's parents while Peggy was to spend the next week in the sewers of New York to learn about their layout and operation. Grace had spent her first Christmas and New Years 1941/1942 with Dr. Erskine since 1940 when they came to New York. It had just been the two of them and Grace had loved every minute, not having taken any moment for granted. Dr. Erskine had been so busy working with the SSR that they had not seen much of each other for a long time and when they had, it was only for a few minutes before the one or the other had to leave. However, their bond had not dwindled one bit. The elderly man could still make her smile the widest and make her laugh the loudest. And most importantly of all, he had that look, that little twinkle in his eye. He was the only one who truly knew what she had been through, because he had seen it all, and experienced parts of it on his own skin.
Another aspect that made her surroundings feel much more like home to Grace was that she felt very comfortable around Peggy's parents by now. They had had a lovely and talkative dinner hours before, and both Peggy's mother and father insisted that she should relax and just be a normal child, and they treated her as such, although Grace sensed that deep down, they knew that Grace was far from a normal kid, as their daughter, a highly trained operative, was escorting Grace pretty much everywhere they went back and forth between the United Kingdom and the United States. The visits had naturally not been as frequent since the Luftwaffe had been circling and invading the British airspace more and more. Of course they knew that their daughter's job was special and not without danger. However, they didn't know the specifics of Grace's circumstances other than she had been in a very bad place and had been mistreated. And Peggy had been the one to get her away from that place.
The large, old clock in the Carters' study struck ten. Grace had spent the past few hours looking through Mr. Carter's books. They were all highly academical, so it was sparse what Grace truly got out of them, but she liked having something to do and something to look at. She had nearly convinced herself that the Carters must have retreated to their bedroom by now and thought that she ought to do the same when a differently shaped book caught her eye on a shelf to her left. The book was not thick in size but were long and wide in shape. Its dark blue colour was a contrast to Mr. Carter's predominantly brown, leather-bound books. Grace reached out, tempted by the difference of colour, and half expected to see another fancy academic title that she had to spell her way through. Instead, when she turned the book to read the title, a simple text, 'Michael 1918 - ' was with gold letters written in cursive engraved on the front of the book.
"That's my older brother, Michael." Peggy's voice echoed inside her head.
A sudden wave of sadness overcame Grace, and her hands suddenly felt clammy. She felt that she had overstepped some kind of barrier, as she partly thought that she was being invasive in the Carter household's private sphere, and partly because she realized how much she and Peggy had in common. Both their brothers had been taken away from them far too soon. Grace felt like she was holding something sacred to the Carters in her hands and she did not feel like she in any way deserved to be in possession of it. Therefore, she determinedly reached up to put the book back, but a gentle voice behind her stopped her movements instantly, "He would have loved to have been here and dote on you."
Panic stricken, Grace turned and looked at Mrs. Carter as if she was a small child caught with her hand inside her mother's cookie jar - except for the fact that Grace did not feel comfortable holding the book in the first place. Mrs. Carter was standing there in her nightrobe, watching Grace, a soft smile visibly showing on her face.
"Mrs. Carter, I am so sorry, I-." Grace's babbling, yet sincere, apology faded at Mrs. Carter's dismissing hand movement.
"Do not apologize, my dear." Mrs. Carter replied, "They say 'curiosity killed the cat', but if children like you weren't the slightest bit curious, you would never learn anything. Now, would you like to look through the book with me?"
Grace was so in awe of the older woman's forwardness and compassion, yet she managed to provide a single nod and then proceeded to join Mrs. Carter who had situated herself on the couch in front of the fireplace where a steady fire still lit up the area closest to the light source, creating a homely and cozy feeling of content. Grace happily let Mrs. Carter take ahold of the book about her oldest child and was both watching and listening intently as Mrs. Carter started going through the pages that entailed mostly pictures with small pieces of text here and there explaining the context of the pictures.
"Michael was always such a sweet boy." Mrs. Carter sighed, "Rebellious, adventurous, a typical boy. He was so intelligent with a quick wit. So full of compassion and a little more levelheaded than his sister. But if anyone messed with her…"
Mrs. Carter let out a short but deep laugh, "Boy, if anyone messed with his Peggy, that levelheadedness would fly right out the window."
Grace smiled softly as she was glancing sideways at Mrs. Carter's recollection of her only son. Grace could see the pain lingering on her face, but her smile and eyes told her that Mrs. Carter was also thinking about all the good things, all the good times they had had together. Grace felt herself tear up, she couldn't really understand why, other than there was a deep pit in her stomach and a big vacant space in her heart. She couldn't describe it, but her heart longed for something.
"Those two," Mrs. Carter recollected with a laugh and a short shake of her head. "Margaret - Peggy went everywhere Michael went, she played all the same games Michael did, she would fight like Michael did. It was difficult to raise her to become a lady."
"He sounds like he was wonderful." Grace said quietly, sending Mrs. Carter the biggest smile she could muster.
Mrs. Carter's smile widened, but she was still staring right ahead of her absentmindedly, like she was reminiscing the time spent with both of her children.
Some minutes went by where Grace just sat and carefully observed Mrs. Carter's features. Grace was so lost in her own thoughts that she was only snapped out of it when she felt Mrs. Carter tug gently at her arm, "Grace?"
Grace shook her head, as if it would help her mind return to the present again, "Sorry."
Mrs. Carter smiled gently, "What I was saying was that I know that my daughter told me not to pressure you and bring it up, but..what can you remember about your family?"
Grace blinked. It felt as if all colour was drained from her face and her hands felt clammy again. Grace took a couple of deep breaths as she tried to battle that nauseating feeling that emerged in the pit of her stomach again.
"Not much, Mrs. Carter."
That was not entirely true, but it was not entirely false either.
Grace jumped a little in her seat when Mrs. Carter closed the book gently, putting it down on a nearby table. Mrs. Carter placed a hand on Grace's, who looked up to see the older woman look at her softly. "All right," she said. "I think that was story time enough for tonight. What do you say, should we head to bed?"
Grace smiled softly back and let Mrs. Carter help her up, gently leading her out of the room. On the nearby table, the book was left there, a reminder that a lot of reminiscing and a couple of old wounds had been opened that night.
January 6, 1942 - Hampstead, England
Grace's eyelids fluttered open, and she listened as she slowly came to. For once, she had had a night without nightmares, she was almost afraid to leave the bed, let alone move, feeling she had to savour every moment of peaceful rest she could if the nightmares only granted her this one day's lack of unrest. It was always the same nightmares, over and over again; piercing screams from a female, a male voice telling someone to keep running, and then hearing her brother's voice say her name softly echoing over and over again in her head. Her most beloved toy in a pool of red. And then the explosion, a huge one. More screams.
Grace bit her lip. Dreaming about it was the worst because it was so vivid and felt so real, but she also became uneasy just thinking about it. Her trail of thought was interrupted when the doorbell rang. Grace frowned as she looked at the windows and saw that the sun had not been up for long, judging by the skyline. Next, she heard the front door was opened, it mostly likely being Mrs. Carter answering the door. Silence followed for a few moments, followed by a screech and the sound of Mrs. Carter's sobs. A thousand thoughts and procedures raced through Grace's mind as she now was on high alert. Had someone attacked her? Was something wrong?
Caught halfway between wanting to just stay in her room and go check out what was going on downstairs, Grace was conflicted. She heard the door close, and then silence ensued again. She took one step towards her bedroom door, and then another and another. She stopped in the doorway with bated breath, listening for any sounds that would give away what would await her downstairs. When Grace did not hear anything, she repeated the procedure; stopped at the top of the staircase, listened, repeat. As soon as she could see enough of the downstairs hallway, she assessed the room critically in high alert. There was no sign of anyone in the hall, the door was closed, and there were no signs of a struggle. Grace descended the last few steps of the staircase and stopped again when she heard a murmur of voices coming from what Grace identified as the Carters' living room. The door was ajar, so Grace tiptoed towards the door as to not make any sound at all. However, when a male voice spoke up from inside the room, Grace stiffened in surprise and wonder. "Mum, why are we almost whispering?"
Grace frowned, etching slightly closer to the door, trying to see if she could see anything, but she could not move closer without risking pushing the door open completely. Was there another sibling Peggy and her parents had not told her about?
Grace heard Mrs. Carter sigh, "Let's just say that your sister has taken a young girl under her wing, and she is staying here, and she's probably still-."
"I'm right here, Mrs. Carter." Grace spoke up as she stepped out of the shadows. She could not keep her curiosity in check any longer after having assessed that there was not any danger. However, she had not expected to see what she saw.
Grace stiffened when she set eyes on the young man who was sitting opposite the Carters on the couch facing her. She recognized him from a picture that Peggy had showed her of him and her. The man, who supposedly was dead that she and Mrs. Carter had been talking about just the night before, sat right there on the couch opposite his own parents whose facial expressions expressed pure happiness. Grace's eyes widened further at the realization; when had she started seeing ghosts?
The three adults were all watching, and they all stood up simultaneously. Grace suddenly felt faint. He was real. What was going on?
"Grace, my dear." Mr. Carter spoke up as the three of them slowly approached her, his voice entailing an edge of concern. "You look quite pale."
Grace's mouth opened, but her mouth was dry. All she could muster was, "I…I.."
She managed to take five more steps towards the three of them before her legs gave out and she fainted. However, before she hit the ground, the young man closed the distance between them and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. Swiftly, he swept her up into his arms and looked concernedly but curiously down at the little thing he was holding as the first thing. Then he looked to his parents who was looking concernedly at the girl, and he decided to crack a light joke to ease up the tension in the room.
"Well," he shrugged and sent his parents the charming signature smirk of his, "That's a first."
He could immediately see the amusement featured on his father's face, and his mother's eyes shone with mirth for a few moments before her lips straightened into a straight line and she admonished him, "Michael Carter! Put the poor girl down on the couch this instant. Poor Grace. Poor thing, this must have been such a shock for her. We talked about you just yesterday, you know…."
While his mother was fussing around, barking at both him and his father to prepare this and that for when the girl, Grace, came to after checking she would be all rigtht, he couldn't help but stop and observe the "stray" his baby sister had brought home. Michael couldn't help but wonder who she was, where she came from, and why and how his sister had become this girl's caretaker in the first place.
"Who are you?" he mused quietly to himself as he gently tucked a blanket around Grace he had been handed by his father, who clapped his son on the back before leaving the room.
"Michael!" His mother called. "If you're done tucking Grace in, join your father and me in the kitchen. You have a lot of things to catch up on."
Michael rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his mother bossing him around when his face was turned away from her. She would skin him alive if she ever caught him rolling his eyes at her although he was an adult.
"Yes, Mum." He replied as his glance landed on the girl one last time before he left the room. They sure had a lot to catch up on.
The degree of embarrassment Grace felt when she woke up and had to face the Carters was indescribable. Especially facing Michael and hearing how he had managed to reach and catch her before she hit the floor, and the fact that he had furthermore lifted her into his arms like it was nothing, threw her off in relation to put up a subtle façade outwardly. However, that façade had no effect on Michael either way. Furthermore, either his parents had not noticed or had gotten used to her, because they did not say anything when she entered the kitchen where they all were sitting a little while later. Grace tried to ignore it, but she felt Michael's gaze on her, and when she tried to defend herself by staring back at him determinedly, he threw her off with a wink and a dashing smile. She had not even spent five minutes with him, and he already infuriated her. However, she knew he did not have any malicious intentions, she felt that much. There was just this energy about him that drew her in but which she at the same time wanted to put up a fight against, something familiar she could not put her finger on, which she guessed was the driving force behind her infuriation.
"Oh, Grace." Mrs. Carter sighed apologetically as she placed a mug of hot cocoa in front of Grace at the dining table. Mr. Carter was seated with Mrs. Carter on the other side of the table from her while Michael was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring a mug of coffee for himself while his mother continued an apology, "We're so sorry. It must have been such a shock for you."
"It's quite all right, Mrs. Carter." Grace timidly replied as she mustered the most reassuring smile she could, but she had to admit within herself that she had suffered quite a shock.
"Amanda, my dear." Mrs. Carter chided lightly as she sat down next to her husband, who sent his wife an amused glance.
"You know, Mum." Michael then spoke up as he made his way from the kitchen counter to a seat not next to Grace but close to her right. His eyes glinted mischievously as he smirked, "I don't recall you ever letting me or Peggy have hot cocoa before dinner."
"We are getting older, son." Mr. Carter chirped as he sent his wife a teasing smile. Mr. Carter's reward was a light slap on the head with a newspaper as Mrs. Carter promptly tutted while firing back, "Speak for yourself, Harrison. As for you, young man..."
Mrs. Carter pointed a finger at her son. She was not angry and not even close to being irritated, but she had the unmistakable tone of authority in her voice only a mother would use on her children, "Seems like the Air Force haven't done much good about that witty mouth of yours. It will get you into trouble one day."
"What would you call all the times you yelled at him for mouthing off to those god-awful neighbours we had when they were younger then, dear?" Mr. Carter chirped innocently.
Grace smiled at the family's exchange of words. It warmed her inside, but at the same time it was also a painful reminder of something she didn't have.
Michael started chortling when his mother again landed another light blow with the newspaper on Mr. Carter's head. "Oh, you…" Mrs. Carter exclaimed exasperatedly, but she could not prevent her lips from curving upwards. Grace smiled, although she felt pain in her chest that went away as quickly as it came when she looked at the way Mr. and Mrs. Carter looked at each other, but she didn't really know why. In fact, she didn't know if the pain had been a product of her imagination in the first place.
"As for what happened in the living room, Grace." Michael's voice interrupted the silence that had ensued in the kitchen. Grace immediately looked at him. Gone was the quirky, mischievous glint in his eyes, replaced with an almost awkward kind of smile and apologetic demeanor, "I really am sorry. I can't imagine how much of a shock it must have been. From what my parents told me just now before you walked in here, you must have been through quite a lot."
Grace blinked, trying to comprehend what had just happened and why she felt like giving Michael Carter, a man she had formally just met now and who was supposedly dead until a few hours ago, a big hug. His gaze was unwavering. Kind, sincere, no-nonsense attitude. Now when Grace thought of it, he and Peggy looked very much alike in that regard.
She was lost for words, all she could do was to smile as sincerely as she could at him, letting him know that she appreciated it. From out of the corner of her eye, Grace could see that Michael's parents was just watching their exchange with fond smiles on their faces. She could not imagine how it must be like for them to have their son home with them again under the circumstances.
"But I'm flattered really."
Grace's eyes abruptly narrowed, fixed themselves on Michael's face. His tone of voice had a slight tease to it, and his eyes glimpsed playfully. She had started to notice the signs when Peggy was going to say something snarky, which mostly happened when she was conversing with Howard Stark; it looked like she and her brother shared some of the same tell-tale signs.
Michael smirked teasingly before he winked at her, "It's been a while since a pretty girl has fallen for me, literally speaking."
What happened next was like an out-of-the-body experience. Grace's reply was so swift she herself almost did not catch what she was saying, let alone think about what she was saying, "Are you sure a girl has actually ever fallen for you, metaphorically speaking?"
Complete silence followed; you could hear a pin drop. Panic started to unfold inside Grace. Why on earth did she say that? However, she looked at Michael's dumbstruck facial expression, his mouth half-open, and couldn't help but feel a slight feeling of satisfaction. She sensed that Michael Carter was not a man that was rendered speechless on a regular basis; rather, he was the one usually rendering others speechless. Mr. and Mrs. Carter looked as if they had seen a ghost when they looked at Grace, looks of familiarity. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, her gaze focused on Michael again. Another couple of seconds followed with complete silence and where no one moved a muscle until Michael's lips suddenly started pulling upwards. Next, his lips parted so one could see two full rows of white teeth as his face split into a wide grin. Michael looked first at Grace and then looked to his parents, "I like her."
Grace released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. "But," Michael continued seriously although his eyes shone with mirth, "she has spent far too much time with Peggy."
Then they all burst out laughing, and every worry Grace may have had about fitting in with the Carters faded out of existence. It seemed like Michael just was the final and missing piece to the puzzle.
