When Maria Hill is standing at the bottom of the airship's gangplank, waiting with a smirk, Peggy already knows it is going to be a long day.
"Congrats." The austere woman says.
"Thanks." Peggy responds warily, "I think."
"You helped take down a world wide terrorist organization. Why the hesitation in accepting my congratulations?"
Peggy glares at the woman. "I'm not. But you only show up when there's bad news or when you know I'm going to dislike something."
The grin on Maria's face widens, "you know me too well."
"We'll get on with it. Rip the band aid off so to speak."
"Because the protocols have changed so much since Hydra's last— hopefully— members were rooted out of our organizations, all team members who were abroad or on assignment when the changes went into effect are now required to go through the new initiates training program since they weren't here to learn the protocols and implement them when they were rolled out."
Peggy listens to what she is saying. She hears the words. But she does not process them. "Come again?"
"My dear Agent Carter, you have to go through training. With the new baby recruits."
She stops, holding the duffel bag that had held her entire existence for her last 3 years undercover. "You're lying."
Maria stops and turns to face her, a too-pleased grin on her face, "I would never lie to you. I fear you too much." It's said in jest but Peggy understands.
"But I'm MI6! I'm not even fully Shield!"
"But you contract for Shield, and therefore must follow our protocols."
Peggy lets out an annoyed growl and stomps forward. "I get back from practically saving your arses by infiltrating Hydra and the thanks I get is being told I have to be trained alongside the new brats?" She hears Maria following behind but doesn't look, "tell Fury he can kiss my ass."
"Okay."
She slows down and comes to a halt. Her face is in a deep frown as she spins slowly and catches Maria ten paces behind her. A smile still planted firmly on her face.
"What the hell do you mean by 'okay'?"
"I mean, 'okay, I'll tell Fury he can kiss your ass'."
How her eyes can possibly narrow further is beyond her, but they do. "You're keeping something from me."
Maria tilts her head, "oh, so you're a mind reader now?"
"No." Peggy growls, "but I know you well enough to know you wouldn't just say okay and back off after having something so ridiculous to hold over my head."
"You technically haven't seen me in three years, so I could be a changed woman, Carter."
"Bullshit. You're wearing the same watch, hair tie, and regulation boots you were in 3 years ago."
Maria's eyebrows go up and she huffs out a laugh, "I forgot about that. The detail queen."
"So tell me what your play is, or I'll beat it out of you."
"Damn, Carter. I thought we left the bullying to Hydra."
"Hill."
The woman grins, "It's nothing. I just thought you might want a heads up about the training."
"And that's it. No ulterior motive?"
"Nope."
"Fine." Peggy spins again and continues walking across the tarmac, feeling the wind blowing her hair and just barely hearing Hill call out behind her, "I bet you'll choose to take the class!"
"Not bloody likely!" She shouts back, flipping her off as she goes.
—
"Welcome back, Carter. How's it feel to be back on the good side?"
She laughs, "Betty Carver can rot in hell, thank you."
"I thought you'd be happy to leave that alias behind. Which is why I need to ask you something I know you're not going to like."
"No." She says flatly.
He raises the eyebrow above his good eye, then he frowns. "Hill told you."
"She did. And I'm not taking some infant training course."
"Carter, it wouldn't really be you taking it as you observing it."
"No."
"Carter, I can't go letting you off the protocol hook. Hydra's infiltration almost broke up multiple security organizations around the world. We need to be mindful of updates. If I let you slink past on good faith then I don't have a leg to stand on."
"I've been involved with Shield since you recruited me out of MI6. I think I know the right way to handle things."
"This is not me doubting your abilities. This is me holding everyone's feet to the fire."
"I've been having my feet burned for over 3 years!"
"And you did a damn good job. One of the best agents we have. But rules are rules and this is not one of those 'rules are meant to be broken' situations. This is equal education so we can function as a well-oiled machine after having been under attack for the better part of a decade."
"I'm not doing it."
"Carter, I don't beg. So I won't. But I do hope you'll change your mind."
"I'm not even Shield. So I'll just give up my Shield contracts and move back to London."
"That would be your decision. A stupid-ass decision. But yours all the same." She glares at him and he puts his hands on his hips, "what if I let you in on a little secret?"
"One of your secret's secrets?"
"Nah, just a regular old level one secret."
"And that would be?"
He looks around his office, the metal holding up the huge panes of glass that overlook DC, "I'm getting old. And I won't be here forever. And truth be told Carter, neither will you. And when you take over my job as director—" she looks at him sharply and he raises an eyebrow waiting for her to argue, which she doesn't, "— you're going to wish you'd interacted with the younger recruits more. Know which ones you want on which missions. Which ones you trust on the difficult, or delicate, or level 7 classified missions. This is the way to jump that gun. You're not really going there to be retrained or filled in on new protocols. Not that those don't have their merits, but you're going to be rubbing elbows with the recruits that will take your place when you take mine."
She stands there, hands on her hips, mirroring his position and processing what he's saying.
And it pisses her off that it makes sense.
"Fine." She snaps. "But if I even get the hint that you or the instructor are messing with me, I won't hesitate."
He chuckles and nods, "you've got nothing to worry about. And I don't think anyone's going to be focused on you."
She glares at him, "and what is that supposed to mean? I swear you all think that because you're a spy organization that you always have to be annoyingly cryptic!"
"Please, you're a pain in my ass, you're just not the biggest pain in my ass. That spiel that just worked on you? It was tried and tested on the first person I had to convince."
"And who the hell is that?"
"Come on, I'm sure Hill told you."
"I assure you she did not. Although I could tell she thought she'd caught the canary by the way she glowered over me all predatorial."
He moves, sitting at his desk and shuffling through his papers. "Well, she's all excited. Not everyday you get to meet a legend. Hell, he's been off base and off grid longer than you."
She felt her breath catch. No. No way.
"And he is?" She hears herself asking.
"The only person Shield employs that causes more problems and saves more lives than you. Don't pretend to be ignorant."
"You're making him take this course—" she chokes out, feeling excitement build, "you're actually making him take a training course?"
Fury's eyes crinkle under the pleased-with-himself-smile, "I had the enormous pleasure of informing Captain Rogers that he would be reporting for training at 0800 tomorrow. He's more out of date with protocol than you are."
She wants to ask a million questions, but she doesn't let her excitement show. "Well then. I suppose I can't be too cross if I'm not the only non-traditional trainee."
"Thought you might say that."
She glares at him. "Oh, don't act like a prat."
"What?" Fury says in good humor, "one of your first questions as a new recruit was if you'd be working with him."
She bristles, annoyed at her younger self for her too eager to prove herself attitude, "yes well he's done good work, and I've admired his tactics and strategies. That's not a crime."
"Never said it was, just saying that you'd probably be happy to finally meet him."
She rolls her eyes, "I will be glad to meet him. And we can complain about you the whole time I hope."
The man lets out a bark of a laugh, "if you can get Rogers to say more than a sentence an hour, I'll buy you a new holster."
She raises an eyebrow, "not very vocal then?"
He shakes his head, "hardly."
"Well I accept that as a personal challenge. I'm good at getting older people to talk. My Nan always said I had an old soul."
Fury's face shifts momentarily before an amused grin settles on his face. "Yeah," he chuckles, "older people. Right."
"It's true." Peggy insists, picking her duffel bag up, ready to get home for the first time in 3 years, "compared to the trainees we'll be around, so I take that bet. And I prefer thigh holsters thank you."
She walks out the door and she swears she hears him let out a loud laugh as the door swings shut.
—
Her apartment has been cleaned for her arrival thankfully, so she doesn't have to do anything but shower off the last remnants of the Hydra goon she'd had to punch out before handing him over to interpol, and the flight back to DC.
The hot water rinses her skin clean and it's red and flushed as she wraps herself in her own robe and lies on her own bed.
She can't lie and say she isn't excited to meet the man. When she'd been recruited, he'd been all anyone could talk about. But no one really got to know him or see him. He worked in a cowl. One to protect his head, but also help protect his identity when going up against forces in public spaces. But then Hydra had reared its head and he'd been sent under cover almost 2 years before she had and a year before she'd been scouted by shield from MI6. They'd had a few exchanges of coded communiques, or so she thought. She'd never been sure who the intel was from when it was hidden in pen caps or shoved into her pockets as she walked past. She only knows him by name and legend, something she has found to be a similarity between them. As spies or operatives, anonymity outside of where they work is crucial. So she only knows the unclassified missions he's run, and the work he's accomplished. Nothing personal. He was a wild card, but an effective one. His list of accomplishments is a mile long and he's someone she's always looked up to and strived to be like.
She secretly hopes he'll be like a mentor.
—
She dresses in jeans and a Shield sweater. Twisting her hair up into a loose bun and only applying mascara and lipstick.
She grabs her phone, shoving it into her back pocket, and a notepad and pen, which she tucks behind her ear. Thankfully her apartment is close to the Triskelion, so she takes the opportunity to revel in the warmth of the morning sun as it rises, walking towards the building towering over the Potomac.
—-
She sees a group of new looking recruits, waiting in the lobby. They're jittery and tapping their feet or fidgeting with their hands.
"Told you."
Peggy does not turn to acknowledge Maria's presence.
"I'm not in the mood to be teased." Peggy says crisply, "you could have just told me."
"Nah. More fun to be cryptic as hell."
"Remind me why I allow myself to be contracted to Shield?"
"We're 'less stuck up than those MI6 assholes'. Your words not mine."
"Well maybe they've changed. It's been 3 years you know."
"Feel free to back out. I'm sure you don't care about meeting him. Just pack your stuff and head to Heathrow."
Peggy does not respond to that bait. "Have you met him yet?"
Maria eyes her curiously, "no. Was on the same base with him once, but we never ended up crossing paths. Which, changing topics, you and he are not being known by your names. These recruits have been vetted, but Fury decided he would rather play it safe than sorry. So here's your badge."
The rectangular piece of plastic is simple and she studies it.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Trainee
Elizabeth Poirre
Access level 1
"Access level 1?" She says in an annoyed voice.
Maria rolls her eyes, "just because it says that. Doesn't mean it only works for that. Come now. Who do you think we are?"
"Cryptic assholes."
"Someone's grumpy from a lack of love and affection for 3 years."
"Piss off."
Maria does actually grow somber. "You know. I was only undercover for 7 months. But I hated it. I know you're tougher than me. But 3 years isn't anything I would sniff at. So truly, if it takes some getting used to, to be back on the side of people you can actually trust, I get it. No hard feelings."
Peggy nods, touched at her words. "Thanks Maria, I'll remember that."
She's soon eyeing a red haired recruit who seems completely at ease, but Peggy can tell is ready spring at a moment's need.
A characteristic very needed in a spy.
Peggy finds herself assessing the rest of the recruits. Visually taking them in and seeing more details than she's sure they intended to allow.
"Studying the hair on their hems, Sherlock?"
"If I'm to be assessing these recruits during these inane meetings, then I might as well start now."
Hill looks at her watch, 0753, "well, I'm going to lead you guys into the room. But I'll be by again. I know I've been teasing you but I wanna meet this guy too."
She's gone calling the 20 something recruits to their feet. "Follow me this way, please."
—
She's settled in an auditorium type classroom and she's watching as the last minute recruits file in.
But each one looks younger than she. Or somewhat close to her age. She sits in the back and isn't able to study their faces, but no older guy ever enters. A pit settles in her stomach. What if he decides not to show?
The instructor, a dry humored man named Phil Coulson starts the introduction to the training course and her attention is diverted to the information being given.
—-
At lunch, she walks briskly to the shield cafeteria and greets a few people that she hasn't seen since she went undercover. She's glad she can be known by her name here as the trainees are eating somewhere else. The selections have improved since she was here last and she happily selects a pasta dish with a salad and bread alongside it.
The round tables encourage communication, but she sits at an empty one. Hoping for a minute of peace before returning to the classroom of over eager recruits.
The cafeteria begins to fill with other groups of people. Actual Agents grabbing a quick lunch, or secretaries and accountants. Shield employees fill the spaces and she finds herself listening to interesting conversations all around her.
And she swears she hears buzzing that Rogers is here. Which makes her look around with a studying eye. Except she doesn't know what to look for. The few blurry mission photos of him from his earlier days before going undercover, he always had the cowl on, and he also had a beard which hid the bottom half of his face.
So maybe he is running late today and will be there for the afternoon session.
She hopes.
—-
Phil is separating them into small groups and she stands when she hears her name.
"Elizabeth Poirre will be team leader—" Phil starts looking at his list. She watches as an amused smile crosses his face, "—and her team members are: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Grant McKenzie, Jasper Sitwell, and Lorraine Davies. Please head to the gym where an instructor awaits you."
She leads the way, hearing those mentioned get up and follow her. The walk to the gym is relatively silent and she doesn't allow her curiosity to win by glancing back to see who is following. The elevator is the first place she gets a good look at her group.
The redhead spy is there, either Natasha or Lorraine, she doesn't know yet. A small guy, basically bald with glasses, and a short and stocky blonde man all follow her into the elevator. She'll learn their names in a moment.
But the count is wrong. She looks up, about to ask who she's missing when a figure turns the corner and stands in front of the open elevator doors.
Peggy's eyes go wide as they trail up, up, up to the extremely tall guy now standing staring at the mostly full elevator.
He doesn't grin or frown or do anything but observe them as they stare back.
"I'll take the stairs." He says, in a voice that is so deep it practically rumbles the ground. And then he's gone, and she hears the stairwell door closing.
"Okay." She says, pressing the button for the correct floor. "If he wants to walk 30 floors to the bottom then that's his prerogative."
This elicits a few chuckles as the car begins to sink downwards.
—-
By the time they exit the elevator car, she knows all their names and a bit about them. The redhead is Natasha, and the blonde is Lorraine. Clint, the stocky blonde, has a dry wit, and Jasper seems knowledgeable and like he knows it. All in all a decent group to have. Which means the tall blonde would be Grant.
They enter the gym and Peggy looks around, stopping in surprise as Grant is standing in the gym, speaking to the instructor who has a wide grin on his face.
"Wow." Clint says, "he must have flown down those stairs."
They approach the two men and they turn to face the group.
"Hello, I'm Sam and I will be your instructor today."
Peggy watches as the tall man, Grant, moves and stands behind the group, crossing his giant arms over his expansive chest. He looks around her age and she guesses he's an older agent forced to do the training same as her.
"Now," Sam starts, "shield agents get into all sorts of trouble. And you need to be physically ready, especially if you're a field agent—" he starts talking about daily things they can do to ensure their body is functioning at top form. Stretches, cardio, resistance, all the stuff Peggy's been including in her daily routine since day one.
But she steps back and observes the new recruits taking it in. Except Grant.
His face is flat and almost annoyed as he stands, eyes trained on the windows outside. He has to be an older agent like her, must have heard this training spiel before.
"Alright," Sam continues, "let's see who is observant. Point to the senior agent or agents in your group."
Four fingers point at her, and she smirks. The younger four have their hands out, one hand pointing to her and the other to Grant. Sam laughs, "good. At least none of you are idiots. Now, is it because of their age? Or what were your clues?"
The stocky blonde, Clint, speaks first, "scary—" he points to Peggy, "and terrifying." He points to Grant.
She wants to laugh, even if she bristles just a touch on being thought of as 'less' scary. She eyes the man who hasn't so much as blinked to respond to the conversation about him. He is an intimidating form. Clean shaven and sharp jawed all frowning while his chest expands and contracts slowly beneath the shield issued shirt he's wearing.
"Okay" Sam laughs, "you're not wrong, but let's be a bit more specific, anyone?"
Natasha points to Peggy, "that sweater she's wearing was only issued by Shield between 2013-2016." Peggy glances down at her sweater in surprise, while the redhead continues, "his Shield shirt is older, maybe 2010-2013. Issued to soldiers being trained in the espionage sector of Shield."
There's a beat of silence as they take that information in. The redhead is smirking and Peggy finds herself completely impressed. She glances at Grant whose eyebrow is raised infinitesimally. The only reaction he's given so far.
"Hell yes." Sam says with a smile and a clap of his hands, "that's what I'm talking about. Now, let's use wisdom of experience to our benefit, okay? Grant, Elizabeth, please step forward." He points to the mats behind him and they all shuffle forward. She stands firmly, facing Grant who stands across from her, eyes on Sam. "These two have been trained in Shield combat tactics and probably other areas of fighting techniques. Now, we can't prepare you for every type of fighter you will come across, but we can try our best. So—" he points to Peggy, "Elizabeth, what type of fighting style has been your best friend out in the field?"
She pauses, thinking about her myriad of experiences. "I would say, for me, and most women, it's about using our femininity to an advantage, making men drop their guard and then surprise attacking them. If that doesn't work, using our smaller size as a way to outlast them."
She can see Natasha and Lorraine both nodding at her words, and Clint seems to accept this without question as well. She likes that. Jasper rolls his eyes and she immediately puts him on her 'take down a notch' list.
"And you, Grant?"
Peggy angles her face to watch as he glares at Sam and then turns to the group, his features flat as he speaks, "whatever it takes."
"Not very specific there. Care to elaborate?"
"Not particularly."
Instead of being annoyed, Sam just laughs. "Alright, then let's put smaller size and speed—" he points to Peggy, "up against 'whatever it takes'." He gestures to Sam. "Show the kiddos what you've got."
"Sam." Grant says with a sharp tone. "Let's not."
She bristles, "why? You think I'm not up to your abilities? Or think I'm too delicate? Don't want to bruise me?"
The man's eyes turn and lock on her for the first time. And the intensity of the blue makes her glad she'd finished speaking as the way they locked her in their gaze would have stolen her words. But something about him seems familiar. His presence feels familiar.
"No." He says calmly, "Fury made it clear I'm here to observe. Not be a guinea pig."
So he is as unhappy about being forced to be here as she is.
"I'm not asking you to be a Guinea pig." Sam says with an eye roll. "I'm asking you to share your wisdom. Don't you think they can learn something from you?"
She says, "yes" at the same time Grant says "no".
She raises her eyebrows in surprise at him but he's just glaring out the windows again.
"Afraid to be taken down by a female agent?" The redhead asks cheekily.
Peggy had momentarily thought the same question, but the way his shoulders set in annoyance tells her he's not the type. That's not his issue.
But he surprises her by speaking. "I don't give a damn what's between anyone's legs. New recruits and even seasoned agents are reckless and stupid—"
"Including you." Sam snaps with a frown.
"-especially me." The man snaps back, surprising Peggy further. "So learning how to fight is important, but learning how to control yourself is vital."
"Come now." Peggy says, finding her voice at last, "I understand your sentiment, but they can't learn to control themselves if they're killed out on the field because they can't protect themselves. Let's show them what a good agent needs to know. The basics."
"And that would be?" He asks, turning those eyes to her.
"Gaining advantage." She says quickly before launching herself at him. But her knee doesn't connect with his chest like she aimed, instead he sidesteps her and sweeps her grounded leg, toppling her to the floor. She whips around, but he's standing there staring at her as if he never moved.
"Oh." She says with a smirk, "you're on."
His head tilts, eyes narrowing.
The challenge sends her adrenaline through the roof. Her muscles spring, allowing her to jump and twist, racing towards him and attempting to land a fist to his gut while dropping to avoid retaliation. But when she drops, he's already there, face inches from hers, and his hands shove her shoulders hard, sprawling her back. He's on her, boot pressing against her neck. Not hard, no damage, but totally in control. She snarls and grabs his boot, twisting it with all her force, but he just allows her to do so, yanking his other foot up and allowing himself to spin with her motion, avoiding damage to his ankle. He lands, one knee down and then stands as she gets to her feet.
She can hear Sam speaking, describing their techniques and the way they dodge and weave in the dance of fists and feet. except she has this horrible feeling that he's… not toying with her exactly, but almost… entertaining her. Simply allowing her to fight him, but he never really fights back. Just sidesteps or avoids until he can't, then he dismantles her next attack and ends with her neck either in his grasp or under his boot.
And it's infuriating.
Because she's pretty sure he isn't even trying that hard.
Who the hell is this guy, she thinks, as he springs up from where she knocked him on his back, in one fluid motion.
She manages to slip past him, and then grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking herself up onto his back. Her feet use his calves and then his belt to scale his immense form until she's got her thighs wrapped around his neck, squeezing tightly, as her hands grapple with his as he tries to pull her off.
And she smirks when she realizes he's trying to avoid touching her butt. One hand manages to grab her waist and sweater and start to yank, but she slams her elbow down on that wrist and he pulls it back.
His other hand tangles with hers as he keeps trying to get a grip to pull her off, but her legs are now wrapped under his arms and ankles locked behind his back. Leaving her hands free to fight his advances.
He throws his weight forward, trying to unseat her but she holds tight, and grabs his hair to hold onto.
She feels a shiver wrack his body and she startles, letting go immediately, worried she'd hurt him. But the next thing she feels is his hand slipping past hers and getting ahold of one of her belt loops.
She lets out an involuntary yelp, expecting to be pulled off, when she hears a loud rip instead.
They both freeze, her still perched on his shoulders and his now holding a jagged section of her jeans. She looks down to see about a four inch wide section starting from the top of her jeans to just above mid thigh is bare, tapering at the end. It's not even that much skin but she can see her dark green underwear and she's in disbelief as she just stares at it.
The room is silent. And when his hands grasp the sides of her waist, lifting her up and over his head to then gently set her on her feet, she does not resist.
He's looking at the scrap of fabric in his hands, and he slowly hands it to her.
"Sorry." He says, his voice deep and sounding genuinely apologetic. "I'll buy you a new pair."
And that's when she laughs, loud and amused and holding the fabric in her hands. She's glad her pants still hang around her hips, not falling down, as she laughs, wiping tears from her eyes. "You did say 'whatever it takes'."
This makes the rest of the class laugh and release the tension.
She sees that he seems about to smile, to join in the joke but instead there's a flash of something unreadable and the flatness slides back into his eyes and he steps back.
She looks to San who seems to be staring at Steve, waiting, hoping for something, but then he sighs and he starts talking, dissecting their sparring match and informing the recruits what they can learn from it.
Grant stays quiet the rest of the session and when they walk back to the classroom, he elects to take the stairs again.
"You gonna fix that?" Natasha asks her in the elevator, pointing to the small strip of skin that's visible.
Peggy shrugs. "I don't have a spare here," she pulls down the hem of her sweater and it covers most of the rip, only a small section where it tapers to a 'v' showing. "I doubt anyone will notice."
The other recruits shrug and she leads them back to the classroom.
—-
He's already sitting in one of the chairs when they get there and Peggy hears Clint make another comment about it.
She sits a few rows behind him, and waits for Phil to restart his session.
But her memory replays the way he'd withheld himself from responding. The way the smile that hadn't yet appeared was tucked away before it could show.
—-
That night she stares at the pair of jeans in her hand and walks towards the trash. She lifts the lid, but can't bring herself to throw them away. She gently lets the lid over the trash fall back and she folds and sets the jeans on the counter. She can get them fixed.
—
Leggings and a non-shield shirt is her outfit for the next day.
She enters the training room and is about to sit at a random desk when her eyes catch on something. The room only has a few people in it, and she looks around, but no one else seems to be paying her any attention.
She walks up to the desk she was sitting in yesterday to find a folded pair of jeans, brand new, resting on the desk. Her brow furrows at the tags which state that they are not only the correct size but the correct brand.
She looks for him, wondering how in the hell he could have gotten them so quickly and correctly.
—
At lunch she finds him sitting at a table alone and plops her tray down on the table, catching his attention.
"How?" She asks.
"How what?" He doesn't really look at her. Just stares out the window.
"How'd you replace my jeans so quickly? And how'd you know the brand and size?"
His eyes finally look at hers and she swears he half rolls his eyes.
"This is a worldwide security organization, based in espionage and information. And you think I can't get you pant size?" Then he scoffs, "and I got pretty familiar with your jeans when they were wrapped around my face for 5 minutes." As the last words slip out of his mouth, she hears herself let out startled laughter and his face hardens as he buries any response behind a blank face.
"Well, you were an excellent opponent." She says slowly, trying to draw him back out, "had to try something unconventional."
He doesn't respond, just pushes the immense amount of food around on his plate. She pulls the jeans out of her bag and slides them over to him. "But take these and get your money back."
That makes his brow furrow, and he looks up at her. "Why? I told you I'd replace the pair I ripped."
"It's not exactly your fault they ripped. And I don't get rid of stuff so easily, I try to fix it instead. Makes every item more meaningful. Everytime I see those jeans, I'll remember the day I beat you." She says it as a tease, to bait him, but he doesn't even flicker eyes in her direction. She huffs as she sits down, "what is your deal?"
His gaze lands on her. "Deal?"
She leans back and fixes him with an unamused glare, "yeah, are you in the running for Mr. Stoic or something?" He just glares at the table, not responding and she sighs, "exactly. Like that. You got a problem talking to me? Or what?"
"I don't know you. Why would I have a problem talking to you?"
"I don't know. Maybe because you look like someone's kicked your favorite puppy all the time?"
He frowns and she wants to laugh at how insulted he looks, but she doesn't. "It's not a requirement of Shield to be happy." He says flatly.
"So you're full Shield?"
He looks up, "what?"
Peggy chews the bite she'd taken and points to him, "are you full Shield? Or are you contracted to them?"
His face gets sour before he says, "I guess I'm on loan."
On loan. She studies the deep frown. That's the least human way to describe it.
"You're not a library book." She says finally.
He doesn't respond.
"Natasha said soldier. So…" she tries again, "you're a military contract?" She thinks he might ignore her but he nods slightly instead. "Okay, and can I assume your name isn't really Grant, just like mine's not Elizabeth."
He nods again.
"We'll, since we're both actual employees and none of the new trainees are around, can I be privileged enough to know your actual name?"
She swears he winces. So she takes initiative, "I'm Agent Peggy Carter—" his eyes flick up to her, and she swears there's a hint of surprise as she allows her real accent to show for the first time. It's a dead give away in most cases, so she'd put on her American accent yesterday, "I'm in this terrible training because I've been undercover rooting out Hydra."
She doesn't relish the slight surprise on his face, but she doesn't hate it either. He looks at her, studying her face when he opens his mouth to respond. But he's cut off.
"Carter." She looks up to see Maria standing behind her.
"Hill."
"How's the training going?"
"Like I'm in pre-school again."
Hill laughs and she eyes the man at the table before turning back to Peggy.
"You meet him yet?"
Peggy sighs, "No. He hasn't shown."
Hill frowns, "I'm surprised. Ditching doesn't really seem like his style. Fury said he agreed to be there."
"Yes, well, I haven't seen him."
"You don't even know what he looks like."
Peggy laughs, "that's true. But I think I could spot an older man with a beard among the 20 something trainees."
She feels Grant's eyes land on her. And she looks at him back. There's a question in his eyes and she points to Hill. "This is Agent Maria Hill." She says, as Maria reaches out to shake his hand, which he accepts. "You're an older agent." She comments, "so I assume you've heard of Captain Rogers?" His eyes shift and he nods, lips forming a thin line, "did you know that Captain Rogers is supposed to be in our training course?" She chuckles, "I guess maybe he decided it was beneath him and hasn't showed."
Maria sits, "he's supposed to go back undercover in a few weeks. If you don't meet him now you may miss your chance."
She sighs, "I swear no one will ever let me forget that."
Maria laughs but Peggy is surprised to hear him speak, "forget what?"
She turns to him, and he looks wary as she responds. "When I first was recruited and given access to Shield history, Rogers' exploits were all anyone talked about. I studied his cases and was over eager to meet him. But he was already on assignment and undercover so I never got the chance."
"And you want to meet him… because?"
Her eyebrows furrow at the question, "because he's the best."
He scoffs, "fucking hardly."
This makes her bristle, "I thought you said you knew him?"
His eyes narrow, "yeah. I do."
And then it hits her. "You're jealous."
He lets out a derisive scoff, "jealous. Uh-huh. Sure."
She laughs, "you are! Why? He's a legend, no need to prove yourself against him. Or what, did he reprimand you on a mission and you got all feisty about it?"
"He's not a legend. And he shouldn't be used as an example for anybody."
"My, my." Peggy says with a raised eyebrow, "he really got under your skin somehow."
The man looks about ready to retort something snarky when Hill butts in.
"So what does he look like?" She asks, "you know him, meaning you've seen him.
He looks at them for a minute before rolling his eyes. "You nailed it. Old with a beard."
"Men in this organization need to get a grip." Hill says, frowning at him, "why can't they just accept that there's someone out there who can do everything better than they can without getting their boxers in a twist."
Peggy barely holds in the snort that threatens to leave her.
But the man doesn't get upset, he just studies them before saying, "you haven't even met this guy, and you're putting him on a pedestal, why?"
"I already said, he's the best."
"At what?" The man asks, face darkening, "killing people? Getting what he wants through whatever means necessary? Forcing himself into countries that Shield or the military deems 'America's business'?"
That pulls them up short. They stare at him for a moment before Peggy responds icily, "that seems like a pretty short-sighted way to view all the good he's done for this country and the world."
"Good?" The man says with a sneer, "maybe that's what you call it. But maybe he's just a bully in disguise, huh?" She blinks in surprise at his words and he's standing, picking up his tray and gone before either can respond.
Peggy stares at his empty spot and the jeans that still rest on the table.
—
The next three days she only catches a glimpse of the cranky man as they sit through tedious training meetings, videos, and practical applications. She sees the number of recruits start to dwindle and she remembers the days when she feared she might be cut.
But she'd made it, passing with what Fury described as vivid flying colors to be officially contracted by shield. So as the number drops until there's only 8 left she feels a sense of pride and excitement as the recruits are officially inducted into Shield and start the more intense training.
—-
Coulson stands in front of them, smiling easily.
"Congratulations to the 8 of you who made it through! You're on your way to being full time shield agents and that means you're one step closer to helping the world be a better place."
Her eyes trail to Grant who is rolling his eyes.
"So, now that you're trusted members of this organization, let's let you meet some of the people you'll be taking orders from."
Fury steps in from the side and just stares at them. Waiting until it almost gets uncomfortable, but then he smiles and points at the emblem hanging on the wall.
"We're not just Shield because it's a good name. We're Shield because we protect the world from threats. From people who think they deserve power over others. We help keep the world safe—"
A deep scoff echoes through the room and Peggy doesn't have to look to know it's Grant.
Why the hell is he working here if he hates it so much?
"Got something to say?" Fury asks, his eyebrow raising.
"Nothing I haven't said to you before." Comes the deep annoyed reply.
"Well, today's your lucky day. You just volunteered to help lead this session. Come on down." There's a pin drop silence, and if it was anyone else, they'd be quaking under Fury's glare, but the man stands unmoving, glaring right back. "Come now, don't keep the new recruits waiting." But he still doesn't move. "Coulson?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Does your chest hurt? I feel like I can feel the stabbing pains from here."
Coulson's eyes widen in disbelief but that's not what charges the room. She can feel the energy radiating off of Grant, anger and something else, as his face solidifies into stone. But it must mean something because he steps forward, joining the men at the front.
"That's a good Captain."
Peggy's eyebrows raise at the title. He's a Captain?
"Recruits, this is Captain Steven Rogers—"
What.
This is Captain Steven Rogers—
Her chest gets tight, when did it get so hot in this room? She's barely able to hear what else Fury is saying as furious whispers start through the recruits and the man's face turns even deadlier, eyes staring at the back of the wall, "— you may know him as the man with the most successful missions in Shield history, or the highest kill count of Hydra agents—"
"Get to the point." Rogers growls.
But Fury isn't phased, "you invited this on yourself with your incessant complaining."
"I just want to do my job." He snaps back, "not sit in these useless meetings just so you can get your kicks by annoying the hell out of me."
"Ouch." Coulson says softly, "useless, huh?"
And there's the briefest flash of regret before his face is dark again and he's facing them, "what did you call me down here for?"
But Peggy's still stuck. How is this the man she's been waiting to meet?
"You're going to be going through munitions training with them. Then Carter—" he motions for her and she stands, still reeling with the new information, "this is Agent Peggy Carter. She's sent in more data than any other agent and she's not one to be trifled with in a gunfight. Hence why she will take over for sharpshooting lessons. After lunch you'll all meet back out at the tarmac."
Fury dismisses them and Peggy watches as Captain Rogers glares at the wall and just nods.
—
"I never said he was old. You said that."
"And you let me believe it!"
"What, little Agent wants to be spoon fed all her information?"
She glares at him and he glares back.
"You might want to watch your back." Peggy threatens, "like you saw this morning, he's not exactly Shield positive right now."
Fury rolls his eye, "Yes, I'm well aware of his complaints and what he thinks of our tactics. His contract with us is almost up and then he can go back to being a puppet for the U.S. Army. Which he'll hate even more."
"Where was he undercover? Maybe he got burned."
"He was undercover all over. Doing the same work as you."
Her brow puckers, "he was on the Hydra case as well?"
"Hell yes. We had all our best agents there."
His words echo in her mind. "Better watch your back. Maybe he drank Hydra's poison."
Fury fixes her with a glare so fierce she feels her throat go dry. "Don't ever insinuate that again."
She reels back, "excuse me?"
"Insinuate that Rogers is anything other than the best example for how our Agents should behave out on the field and you and I will have problems."
She feels back. Never has she seen Fury protective of an agent before. Never seen him defending one.
"What did he do to earn your loyalty?" She asks, staring at the man.
"He's done his duty to this country a thousand times over. And he may be a total crank, but he's the one we send when we can't send anyone else. And he goes."
She tries to reconcile the man she revered in legend with the grumpy young guy at her table.
They just don't fit.
—
She feels a sense of tension as they head towards the tarmac.
"Alright," the commanding woman says, gathering their attention, "I'm Agent Danvers. Today we will be discussing motor vehicles. Agents need to not only know how to drive all types of vehicles, but how to commandeer them, care for them, fix them in a pinch, and traverse all terrain—" she's still talking as Peggy eyes all the vehicles lined up. She's driven all of them, or similar versions, except the jet and the low riding motorcycle.
"Anyone driven any of these?" Danvers' eyes go to Captain Rogers first, and then to Peggy. Peggy nods, and Danvers nods in return, turning back to Rogers, "and you?"
He sighs "yes."
"Great." Danvers face transforms into a sly grin and she claps her hands, "this calls for a race around the obstacle course. Rogers, Carter." She points to two motorcycles, relatively the same size. Show these younger recruits how it's done."
Peggy eyes the bike. She hasn't driven the obstacle course in over 3 years, but she is a good driver. So she strides over and looks ready to put the helmet on, but she notices Rogers is unmoving.
"Captain Rogers-" Danvers calls, "you got a problem?"
"Yeah." He says flatly, "the show and tell is getting old. Tell Fury he can shove it."
A smirk crosses Danvers' face and Peggy feels like she's missing something. "Come on, you're being used as an example. Nothing wrong with that."
"It's annoying."
"Okay, Captain," she says with a sarcastic lilt, "care to actually use your experience for the greater good then?"
"How is driving going to show them anything? They won't be there to see it."
"That's where you are wrong." Danvers points to the motorcycles and gestures everyone closer, "we're actually riding in pairs today.—" she points at the bigger cycle, "Rogers, you and—" she looks at the group, any volunteers?" Natasha's hand shoots up, and Danvers nods, "Ms. Romanoff will be riding together and Agent Carter and—" the blonde man is already raising his hand, "—yes, Mr. Barton, will be on a bike. You will take them through the course, talking through your helmet's headsets and discussing the details you think they need to know. Davies, you'll be with me, and Sitwell I've been told you're not wanting fieldwork, so you'll be watching the monitors. Acceptable?" She assigns the last three with additional instructors, another one of the recruits staying back with Sitwell.
All of them nod, except Captain Rogers, but he doesn't fight the instructions. He sits on the bike heavily, reaching for the helmet and shoving it on, handing the other to Natasha. "Unless you want your brains splattered on the asphalt, always wear your helmet." He says firmly, looking forward, "too many idiots think helmets look dumb. You know what looks dumber? Your body on a slab in the morgue."
Natasha's eyes are a bit stunned at his words but she nods and ducks her head into the helmet, strapping it under her chin.
"Engines ready!" They hear Danvers call through the headsets. "First bike back gets a prize."
Peggy's not sure what to expect from Mr. Barton, but he seems eager and he puts on his helmet without question and when she sits in the driver's seat he doesn't even seem to pause, hopping behind her and holding onto the seat as she kicks the engine to life.
"Go!" Six bikes shoot forward and Peggy feels the rush of adrenaline at the speed.
—-
Danvers does not seem too invested in winning, they can hear her on the back channel talking to the young girl about aspects of driving. And Peggy urges her bike faster, ducking under the fake bridge and around the traffic cones, "keep your eyes on the road and your peripheral open." She says through the comms, "too many drivers get distracted, "a rock can topple you as just as easy as a bullet can on a bike, understood?"
"For sure." Mr. Barton says easily.
A blast of wind from a machine rocks them, but they shift their weight, moving in harmony as they settle the bike balance back to middle. "Good job." She says through her mic.
She can't see it, but she knows he's grinning.
Peggy looks left, seeing Captain Rogers driving with ease, dodging through the spiked tarmac as he speaks to Natasha about the different gears on the bike and how lower gears for driving up elevation is best.
Heat blast through the air and both bikes speed up, trying to avoid the hot blast from the air machines. When they're through, they find themselves neck and neck. Peggy looks over and grins, even though she knows her dark helmet hides it. "Come on," Barton says, "let's win this thing!"
She laughs at his whoop and puts on more speed, knowing the more dangerous terrain was coming up as they went off asphalt and into different ground features.
"What about you?" She hears Rogers speak, something other than annoyance or flat emotion in his tone for the first time, "you wanna win?"
"Hell yeah." Natasha shouts back.
"You're going to lose." She challenges, with Barton voicing his agreement. But instead of responding vocally, he shifts gears and takes off, blasting past her, Natasha's red hair flying behind them.
"Oh sh—" Barton starts as she revs her own engine, lurching forward.
—-
It's when they hit the gravel that things become tricky. They're speeding through, dodging trees and boulders and anything Shield thought would be a useful obstacle.
And truthfully, she's letting her pride get the best of her as she goes faster than she should on the small rocks. But Rogers isn't slowing down either and soon both of them are wobbling as their wheels scream for purchase.
"Careful!" Danvers is shouting, her bike several lengths behind theirs. Peggy starts to slow, not wanting to topple but she watches in surprise as Rogers kicks the gear, pushing faster, tipping his weight and commanding Natasha to hold on as he angles the steering, keeping them upright and steady as they blast past the gravel and onto the dirt path ahead.
"No way—" she hears Clint whisper in awe as Rogers starts to disappear around the bend.
"Hold on." Peggy snarls, revving now that she's also on the dirt and leaning forward, "get down!" She commands, feeling Clint duck his head, allowing the wind to pass easier, speeding them up. She allows her adrenaline to heighten her senses and she pushes the bike at its maximum. Unwilling to lose
Natasha's head turns towards them and they hear her through the comms, "they're gaining!"
"Let them try." Is the only response Rogers gives and it flares up an annoyance in Peggy. What a confident bastar—
"Watch out!" Clint yelps, as a tree begins a simulated fall.
"Oh f—" Peggy shouts, sharply angling the steering to whip sideways and just barely avoiding the branches.
When they pass onto the broken concrete section, simulated to look like a destroyed city street, she grins, going down a fake alley.
"Isn't the track that way?" Clint asks, crackling through her speaker.
"Only for the boring people." She retorts, aiming for the half open garage that she knows is a short cut back towards the finish line through deep tunnels.
She feels a sense of excitement that they might actually win this thing when lights appear ahead. She growls as she sees Rogers enter the tunnel from somewhere else and slam in front of her, cutting her off so sharply she has to brake.
"Ha!" Natasha cheers, "suck on that, Barton!"
"Hey!" Barton pouts, "come on Carter!"
Peggy doesn't respond, just pressing the gas faster, wedging her bike against Rogers in the too narrow for two bikes alley.
"What the hell!" Natasha shouts, leaning off to avoid getting clipped.
"Get out of our way!" Barton whoops, as they start to edge faster. But Rogers doesn't look their direction, swerving to avoid their bikes clipping the sides and then putting on speed, which is, of course, when they hear the rumble of something.
Truthfully, the track isn't meant for racing. It's meant for training through different scenarios, obstacles, and terrains. And Peggy doesn't remember there being a water test down here. Which means it's new. Which means she isn't expecting it and is going 98 miles an hour when the simulated storm drain is released.
Even if she slams on the brakes they'll be toast.
"Oh—" is all Barton can manage, all joy gone as the water rushes towards them.
Peggy watches in slow motion as her tires start to skid, hydroplaning out of control, bike starting to topple. At this speed they'll be slammed against the concrete, lucky if it's just a few broken bones.
"Shit—" is all she hears out of the comms when a hand grabs her jacket. She feels herself being hauled off the bike, Barton along with her.
She's being held, arms holding onto her tightly as the higher water approaches them. It's too dark to really see well but she hears the command to "hang on" and she obeys, hands wrapping around the arm that's holding her.
The water hits them like a tidal wave, cold and shocking, but she's being held and dragged upwards.
It's over before she can really process what happened. She glances to see that they're on a tiny concrete ledge and she can't comprehend how since her feet aren't on the ground. She looks down to see a huge arm grasping at her waist, holding her. She looks up to see Rogers, helmet still on, holding them up with his fingers around a metal pipe protruding from the wall. Natasha is over that shoulder, helmet off, looking at the tunnel in shock, and Barton is over his other shoulder, helmet still on and holding on for dear life. Peggy is being held against his side with his remaining arm.
She looks down, the water isn't deep, maybe half a foot, just the initial wave causing the chaos. She feels herself being slowly lowered to the ground, set gently, and then he's letting Barton climb down, before helping Natasha. He drops to the ground, and his weight resounding with a rumbling thud as his boots make contact through the water.
"Where are you guys?" She hears Danvers call through the comms.
"What the hell." Rogers snaps. "Maybe if you tell us to race, you should tell us about the new fucking water features, Danvers!"
"Oh shit." She hears Danvers gasp, "I didn't know you guys even knew about the tunnel!"
Rogers yanks off his helmet, looking furious and Peggy swallows thickly at the intensity in which he's staring at the now crumpled bikes.
That could have been them.
Clint pulls off his helmet, half of his hair wet, "first of all, what the hell. Second of all, how the hell did you do that?"
Natasha looks up at him, "you moved so fast." She says in awe, "how?"
He's still glaring at the bikes, "just adrenaline."
"Bullshit—" Clint starts, "you held all three of us at once, while jumping off the bikes and arresting our momentum. That would take—"
"Barton." Rogers snaps, "you wanna do your little math problem another time, huh?"
An engine sound rumbles through the tunnel and Danvers appears. She takes one look at the wrecked bikes before shaking her head, "holy hell. This is going to be a big chunk of my next meeting."
"You think?" Rogers snaps. "This could have gotten them killed!"
Peggy does not miss his use of 'them'.
"I know." Danvers shoots back. "But they don't use this tunnel for vehicle testing anymore! This is for simulated disaster situations only now. They haven't had drivers down here for 2 years. I didn't even think of it as an option!" She sounds sincere and she can tell Rogers is trying to remain calm. But Danvers continues, "I would have told you about the water if I thought you guys knew about the tunnel."
He sighs, taking a deep breath and pinching at the bridge of his nose. He doesn't speak though, just striding through the water and up through the tunnel. The other recruits follow slowly after him until it's just the two of them.
Peggy looks back at Danvers who looks seriously spooked and upset.
"You didn't know." Peggy tries to say in a calming voice, "he's a bit of a drama king."
"He's a legend and I just pissed him off."
"So?" Peggy asks. "He'll be fine."
Danvers looks at her and sighs, "literally I don't care about anyone's opinion…" she glares at the tunnel, "except his."
Peggy waves the recruits forward, "come on, let's get dried off." She walks alongside Danvers and claps her on the shoulder. "It will be fine. Have you ever met him before?"
"Once, before he went undercover."
"Was he this much of a grump back then?"
The woman shrugs, "I don't remember, he hardly said a word."
They walk in silence, their footsteps echoing through the water against the tunnel walls.
—-
She wonders if Rogers is the type to go to Fury and rat out Danvers' oversight. But Fury never appears and Rogers is gone for the day when the other recruits are packing up.
She's about to walk out of the lobby when she sees Maria.
"Hill." She hisses, "HILL!"
The woman stops, and her eyes slowly scan the large crowd until they lock onto Peggy's face. She clips over and they walk out the door and around the corner, "What?"
"That asshole at our table a few days ago?" Hill nods, "That is Captain Rogers."
Maria stutters to a halt, "excuse me?"
"It was him."
Hill's face morphs into a frown, "but you said he was old."
"I thought he was!" Peggy says through gritted teeth, "But apparently not. He's just efficient."
"Oh damn." Maria responds, eyes going a bit far away.
"My thoughts exactly."
"He's hot as hell."
"Maria!"
"What! You're telling me you didn't notice!"
"I was too busy being annoyed at him to notice his looks."
Maria's not paying attention, "hottest guy in the Triskelion and the best Agent we've ever employed. Wonder if he's seeing someone."
"Maria." Peggy growls, "grow up!" She snaps her fingers in front of her eyes and the woman laughs, then her smile fades and her head tilts towards Peggy.
"That's…" she starts, brows pulling down, "he was saying some pretty nasty things about himself then."
Peggy throws up her hands, "yes, that's what I've been trying to get at!"
Hill frowns, "he thinks he's Shield's bully… Does Fury know this?"
"Yes. Apparently so, and when I tried to figure out why, he basically bit my head off."
Maria nods, "well that makes sense."
"It does?"
Maria's looking down at the pavement, then holding a hand over her eyes to block out the afternoon sun, "Rogers is the reason Fury still has one eye."
This time it's Peggy who stutters to a halt, "excuse me?"
Maria nods, "yeah, some sneak attack or wild animal or something and Fury's one eye down but Rogers pulled him out of the way and took the next hit. That was…" she wrinkles her nose, "I think Rogers' first year. One of the classified missions. I only know because I was typing mission reports back then."
They're walking down the sidewalk, traffic keeping them from falling into total silence.
"Wonder what his deal is then." Peggy muses, tugging the ponytail holder out of her hair. "Because he has a serious attitude problem."
"Well, you know. Military guys always have a…" she makes an upward shoving motion and Peggy laughs.
—
The air is tense when she arrives the next day. And when Fury is there to greet her at the elevator, she immediately knows something is amiss.
"Carter."
"Fury."
"Lovely weather we're having today isn't it?"
She doesn't visibly stiffen but her adrenaline spikes. "Yes.." she responds slowly, "but I always carry an umbrella."
"That's good," he says, his one eye pinned on the un-pushed elevator button. "Because there's a storm on the way."
She blinks and he's gone. And she's left to push the button, wondering what is to come with such an ominous warning.
—-
The classroom is behaving as normal when she enters. It's only the slight stiffness in Coulson's smile that tells her that things aren't as they should be.
Rogers is standing at the back, looking at the recruits with a laser sharp glare. She walks up the incline stairs past the rows of auditorium style seating and stands at his side, facing the recruits as well.
"SitRep?" She asks quietly.
"Two more." His voice is quiet and angry and it takes her two seconds to glean its meaning.
Cut off one head—
Her lips thin and she flicks her eyes to him and then back to recruits.
"Fury vetted."
"Allegedly not good enough."
Shit.
"Candidates?"
"Right now? Any of them."
She groans quietly. Hoping against hope it's not Natasha or Barton. She's grown fond of those two specifically.
—-
She's informed to grab her go bag and be ready at 2100 hours. She wants to snap at the messenger who delivers the encoded message to her apartment door, but she refrains, knowing it's not their fault.
She's been home for barely over a week and she's already back on Hydra's tail.
At 2045 she's in the Triskelion and making her way down towards the hangars.
When she gets there she's unsurprised to see all the recruits standing there, holding go bags and looking around a bit warily. Hill stands off to the side, obviously listening to something in an earpiece and Rogers is talking with a group of pilots. She slowly makes her rounds, trying to take in as many details as she can to try to get a handle on what's going on.
"Listen up!" Fury's sharp voice cuts through the large echoing space and everyone stands at attention. "Something's come up, and there's no better way to refine you recruits than to put you through the fire. Listen to Rogers and Carter. They'll be your mission leaders, guides, and mentors. Ignore their advice at your own peril. Fly safe."
He's gone with a flash of black leather and the Quinjet is roaring to life.
Everyone looks to her and Rogers and she points at the quintets, "you expect to teleport onto the jet? Let's move." They scatter, hauling their things and sitting down quickly, buckling up.
The pilot looks up and Rogers is standing there behind him silently.
"Can I—" the pilot starts, swallowing thickly at the giant hovering over him. When Rogers manages to glare even harder, the man visibly pales, "oh are you wanting—-oh-okay." The pilot scrambles out of the seat and Peggy watches with a disbelieving face as Rogers slides smoothly into the pilot's chair. She pushes forward.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to take off, what does it look like?"
"There's a pilot. It's his job."
"No. His job is to get out of my way so I can do what Fury asked me to do."
Oh.
She grumbles and plops into the co-pilots chair. "It would be nice if I was filled in since I'm supposed to be guiding or mentoring or whatever the hell he said."
And there's a hint of sympathy as he speaks, "I promise I know almost as little as you. Only the destination we're flying too and that he didn't want anybody else but us and the recruits. Speaking of which—" he turns around to see the pilot standing awkwardly at the back of the jet. "Get the hell off this jet."
The pilot looks up, eyes wide, "w-what?"
"Get off. We don't need you."
"Oh I'm… I'm supposed—"
"—to get the hell off this jet." Rogers growls, eyes and jaw so forcefully set that the pilot takes one look at him and backs off the gangplank.
He snaps through a few buttons and soon they're in the air. The silence weighing heavily.
"You didn't have to be so rude." Peggy says, "you could have asked nicely."
"And waste 25 minutes while he clears it with Fury and the flight deck? No thank you."
The recruits are obviously listening to their exchange, so instead of arguing about politeness, she falls silent.
The whole flight is tense and she glares out the windshield as they fly. His deft movements tell her he's well versed as a pilot, but the tense set of his shoulders reads as someone who hates flying. Another piece of an enigma about the man.
—
Hours later they land in a recently cleared circle of forest and Peggy orders the recruits out. A field camp appears not even a few hundred feet away and she feels even more confused as a group of men stand there waiting to greet them.
"Cap!" Someone shouts, drawing her attention to a large mustachioed man at the front. He lets out an ear splitting, "wahooo" and comes barreling at them. Peggy has half a mind to reach for her gun and put a halt to whatever the hell is happening, but instead watches in shock as Captain Rogers stands there, a frown on his face, arms across his chest. The man slams into him, and Peggy expects them to go tumbling, but Rogers just takes the brunt of the hit, sighing and shoving the man away, sliding his foot behind the man's boot and causing him to topple backwards.
Instead of being angry, the man guffaws loudly and claps his hands on his knees.
"Still the same old Cap!"
"Still the same old Dum Dum." Rogers replies. He doesn't smile, but there's the barest hint of mirth behind his eyes.
The group stiffens at the insulting name but the man laughs, and Peggy almost gasps at the realization. "Dum-Dum. As in Captain Dugan?"
The man grins widely, standing up and brushing himself off before extending a hand. "Nice to meet you. And you are?"
"Agent Peggy Carter."
The man grins widely, "Carter! Oh hell!" He points his thumb back to the group, "we were just talking about the raid you led in Germany against Hydra. Never had so many men crying in their cells after a mission. You're like a hellcat. It's impressive."
She feels the grin that widens on her face and she shakes his massive hand. "The appreciation is mutual. Never met a man who can drink 6 men under a table to extract information and stay sober enough to deliver said intel that night."
He laughs and the rest of the men walk forward. Dugan starts introducing them.
"Morita, Monty, Denier, Jones."
The recruits spout their names quickly and they're led to a massive tent that is serving as the headquarters.
"So Cap," Dugan calls, eyes finding Rogers who is at the back of the group, not interacting. "We got the call a jet was coming in not even an hour ago. No idea you were on it. What gives?"
"Fury." Is all Rogers responds with. "Intel is inbound. Fury didn't tell me who. Just that I'd know them. Shaft and grain."
The recruits look at him curiously but Dugan sombers and nods, "okay," he points to a man, "Jones, take the recruits to the hatch tent."
The man nods and waves them to follow after him.
Once they are gone Dugan walks over. "You don't call. You don't write? And now you want me to help you root out nasties?"
Peggy studies the interaction. They're obviously well acquainted with the jokes Dugan is throwing Rogers' way, even if they're unrequited.
"I was undercover for almost 5 years, Dummy."
"Yeah. But you're smart. You coulda dropped a line."
Silence.
Dugan's eyes slide to Carter and he raises an eyebrow.
"I know less than he does." She says crisply. "Fury and his secret's secrets are starting to make me weary."
"We missed a head." Rogers says, annoyance in his tone. "My assumption by the way Fury is acting is that we have a mole in the midst of our recruits. The last vestiges of Hydra trying to latch onto power to survive."
"And so he brought you and them here for what? So you can beat them to a pulp until they confess?" Dugan says this with a grin but Rogers glares at him.
"No. I'm assuming Fury sent an encrypted message?"
"Yeah. Hell if I can crack it though."
Rogers nods towards Peggy, "well he sent the best code-cracker at Shield here. So I'm sure she can figure it out."
She feels her neck crack at how fast she turns towards him. "Excuse me?"
He furrows his brow, looking annoyed, "you disagree?"
"No, but—" she huffs, "you know I'm a code cracker?"
He looks at her and there's no emotion. "Of course I do. I requested your skills multiple times while we were both undercover. I used codes only you could crack to ensure the safe transmission of important data about Hydra. We shared intel multiple times."
She'd thought and maybe even hoped a bit that it had been from him while she was under with Hydra, but to have the confirmation? She feels like her gravity is tipping. "We did? Which ones?"
He thinks back for a moment. "There was the identity of the leader, Schmidt. And then the one before that about his second in command, Zola, and the prisoner transfer logs. I knew you were in the area, so I usually requested you when I could."
She looks to Dugan to see if that is unusual and the man does seem to be surprised.
"That's high praise, Carter. Usually Cap doesn't like to work with other people." The words start out light hearted but they get a little bit sharp at the end.
Rogers' lips thin and he checks his watch. "Well if the whining is going to start then that's my cue to leave." And he does, exiting the tent quickly and striding off.
It's quiet for a moment before Peggy shakes her head, "excuse me for my silence. I'm still reeling a bit." The man she'd been wanting to meet for almost half a decade just admitted he'd asked for her specifically to utilize her skills.
"Yeah Cap will do that."
"I assume you know him well?"
Dugan nods, "since his first mission."
She blinks in surprise. "And you were on a team for a while?"
"Yeah, his team, for about two years."
"And then he went undercover?"
Dugan nods again, his face growing somber.
"So you know why he's such an unpleasant person then?" She says it lightly, testing the boundary.
He smiles wryly, "Ah, so you noticed that he isn't much of a people person, huh?"
She laughs, "I wouldn't describe him as friendly, no."
There's a weighted sadness behind Dugan's chuckle. "Well then he's getting what he wants." He leads her out of the tent and towards what she assumes is either the mess tent or the sleeping quarters.
She can't seem to let it go though, so she asks. "And what is it that he wants?"
There's a beat of silence and then an investigative stare from Dugan. "What do you know about him already?"
"The contents of his unclassified dossier. And then even some of the classified. His exploits are legendary in Shield. And I was, truthfully, rather excited to meet him. But I just did a week ago and he's been extremely unpleasant from the get go. Other than buying me jeans—"
"Excuse me?"
She chuckles softly, "we were sparring and I was on his shoulders attempting unsuccessfully to lock him down, when he grabbed a belt loop to yank me off but it ripped my jeans down the side instead. The next day he had a new pair for me."
"Did he laugh or smile at all?" Dugan asks with such a hopeful expression that she's sure there's more to that story, but she thinks back. She remembers the almost smile, the slight humor in his eyes before it had been shoved away.
"No, he didn't."
"Damn."
"Why?" She asks, curiosity at the confusing question and also unusual nature of this conversation making her annoyed. "What is his deal?"
They're about to step into the mess tent and Dugan holds out his hands to stop her. "How hungry are you?"
"I can survive a while longer."
"Take a walk with me."
She accepts the invitation for what it is, and follows him as he heads for the perimeter of the camp.
"So." Dugan starts. "Once I tell you this. You're part of the team. Are you willing to accept that responsibility?"
"I thought I was already part of Shield." She says a bit mulishly.
"Not Shield's team." He laughs, "Team Cap."
"Team Pompous Grump, you mean?"
The man looks at her, "grump I agree with you, but pompous?"
She thinks back on Rogers' words. "Well… maybe not pompous-" she admits, "more like viciously self-deprecating and critiquing of Shield."
"Now that I can see." He guffaws, "well, what will it be? You're either Team Cap or you're not but I won't share his story with anyone who doesn't take a stand of loyalty."
"And what does this loyalty entail?"
"Mostly patience." He says with a grin, "and money if you win the bet."
"Bet?"
"You're asking for information. But you haven't agreed."
She stares at the man, dubious to his requirements. But she thinks back to everything she knows of Rogers and Fury's devotion to the man. And Dugan, who is legendary in his own right. "Okay." She agrees, "Team Cap."
His lips quirk up and he takes a deep breath. "First thing you got to know is that Cap thinks he's bad luck."
She grabs his arm, pulling him to a halt, "come again?"
The man shakes his head, "hold all questions till the end please." He resumes walking the perimeter and she follows him. "Cap's first mission was an unmitigated success, except—" he winces, "the fact that one of our agents lost a few fingers. The agent wasn't even mad, he was relieved it had only been that instead of his hand or life but Cap never saw it that way. He took it as a mistake on his part. And then his second mission…" Dugan's voice grows soft, "we lost an Agent to The Hand." He shakes his head, "a good guy too, and it wasn't close to being Cap's fault, but…" he shakes his head heavily, "like the mission before, Cap saw it as his responsibility to ensure the safety of everyone else."
They turn left, walking behind the tents that serve as sleeping quarters. "It was like fate had it out for him. For his first six months, every mission there was something, an injury or a loss or a failure during the mission. We never failed to accomplish our goal. But every mistake, every loss, or injury or slightest misstep was more proof to him about his own bad luck as part of a team. Then Coulson—"
Peggy perks up, looking at him curiously. "On duo mission, just Coulson and Cap, some nut with a freaking scepter stabbed Coulson through the chest on a mission, and he practically died right there. Only Cap carrying him and running back to the jet and sending it off before the mission was even finished, without any sort of guarantee it could come back to pick him up, saved Coulson's life. So Coulson was thrilled to be alive even if it meant being benched to do more desk work than field, but Cap chalked it up to his bad luck and started fighting for solo missions."
Peggy's listening intently, storing each bit of new information away to work through it later as if knowing might help crack the code that is Captain Rogers.
"Then Fury loses an eye and Cap starts intensifying about needing to be solo."
"So then he went undercover?" Peggy asks.
"No."
Dugan's face grows somber and he's frowning. "No, there was another mission. The Zola retrieval mission."
"That was your team?" She asks in surprise.
"Yep. All 7 of us." He looks at her as if expecting something."
She thinks back. Dugan had greeted them at the plane. And had 4 men with him. Captain Rogers makes 6.
One is missing.
"You lost someone on that mission?"
He nods, his frown deepening, "not just anyone. Cap's childhood best friend. Sergeant James Barnes."
Her mouth makes an "o" shape and she feels her chest constrict. "I've heard his name."
"Best sharpshooter in the business." He says softly, "no offense to you. I know your skills are legendary as well. Sergeant Barnes was the glue of the team. He was Cap's right hand guy and kept Cap from spiraling too far into his own guilt and self blame. But when he died…" he trails off and Peggy feels the sense of dread she felt when she'd inadvertently gotten her roommate killed on one of her first missions. The overbearing heart wracking guilt that if she'd just done that or been just that more careful, that she would still be alive.
"So Captain Rogers assigned his best friend's death to himself?"
Dugan nods, "he did indeed. And it was awful to watch. The man refused to take on any more team missions. Flat out refused. I watched Fury order him to go or be put on desk duty and Cap just sat down at a desk, picked up a pen, and held out his hand for a report." The image is almost funny except for the grimace on Dugan's face. "Except Cap got his way because Fury needs him. Fury doesn't like to need anyone or anything. But Shield needed Cap. His skills are unparalleled and there's no one who can do half of what he does. So eventually Fury gave in, but he sent Cap on the worst solo missions he could come up with. Grueling miserable work, the missions no one wants and everyone avoids, except Cap. He did them all without complaint. Not a single word about it. And it pissed us off because it almost solidified in his mind that he was bad luck with other people because every single one of his solo missions was a success and as far as I'm aware he never got injured or hurt or failed a mission ever."
She lets out a disbelieving huff and he responds with a heavy sigh. "A few months after that, the Hydra situation started to hit the fan and he went underground, and the last we heard he'd taken a long term undercover mission trying to infiltrate Hydra."
"So you haven't seen him since before that?"
The "no" head shake is a soft one.
"So what's the bet?"
His face gets a bit more life in it. "Well, after Barnes died, Cap stopped engaging in anything that wasn't work conversation. He was like a ghost and one day Morita made a comment about how he hadn't seen Cap smile since the day Barnes died. And we realized he was right. None of us had. So we made a bet. Whoever could get Cap to laugh or smile would win the money like we'd each chipped in."
"How much?" She asks.
"At first we each chipped in $15 bucks."
"At first?"
"When no one succeeded in the first week, we upped it. Another $50 for the next three weeks. And a hundred a month after that."
She scoffs, "that's quite the sum of money!"
"He's really hard to make smile. Hell, I don't even know the amount anymore, and we stopped adding to it when he went undercover, but the money is sitting in Shield's account somewhere, under our team name and Fury knows about it. He's part of the bet too. So is Coulson and a guy named Sam—"
"I met him."
"He got the closest. We all watched in awe as Sam cracked a joke that we swear Cap was going to smile at, he almost did, but then he frowned and walked away. So the pot is still up for grabs. But if you had told me he laughed or smiled then I would win since I would have been the first to hear about it."
"Sam was there when it happened, so he would have won."
"Damn." Dugan curses, then laughs, "well he didn't, so no harm, no foul. So now you know. The guys a jerk on purpose because he refuses to have friends or teammates or anyone he may cause bad luck too." Peggy winces and Dugan sees. "What?"
"We we're doing vehicle training at the Triskelion and they'd changed the tunnel features and myself and Captain Rogers and two recruits almost were in a horrific wreck. He seemed over abundantly upset about it at the time… but now I think—"
"Shit, really?" Dugan's mouth turns down, "I swear, it's like fate really wants him to suffer. Let me guess, he's the one who saved you though right?" She nods and he slaps a hand on his thigh, "that's what I'm saying, the guy thinks he's the bad luck, but he always saves it at the end too. But he never thinks about the second part."
And suddenly the grumpy annoying man is so much more. Her mind races with how much she's learned and just how quickly her opinion of him has shifted. But there's one question she hasn't asked, "why does he seem so negative about Shield?"
They've made it halfway around the camp by now and he angles them in, leading them back towards the mess, "I haven't seen him in five years. What are you talking about?"
Peggy recounts the comments he'd made about himself and the organization in their brief interactions.
The large man sighs and stops outside the tent flaps. "I'd bet that it's not that he's against Shield. Trust me, if he didn't believe in what we're doing, he wouldn't do it. But he almost blew a gasket when he found out the organization that was mostly responsible for Barnes' death was secretly infiltrating Shield. So he was hella skeptical of any and all harsher tactics. Worried it had been Hydra's people who had put them in place. Him being an ass about it is half to check people's reactions and half to ensure no one at Shield would want to work with him."
They step inside and it's only about ¼ full. Most have already eaten and left. But she spies Rogers eating at the far end of a table. The man named Morita sits next to him and talks animatedly.
She watches as no emotion appears on Rogers' face as he responds to something the other man said. She narrows her eyes, never one to back out from a challenge. "So how much do I need to ante up to join the bet?"
"You join Team Cap, you're already in the bet."
"No, I mean, if I win, I want to win properly. How much have each of you put in?"
He studies her seriously and then nods, a smile crossing his face, "oh I can already feel the winds of change." Then he laughs, "I dunno, maybe $500?"
She nods, "I'll have it transferred. Consider me a real contender."
His smirk is wide. "I already do."
—