It isn't until Peggy is absolutely sure she won't be able to change her mother's mind that she decides to stop trying.

While they hadn't had a screaming match— because Peggy's perfectly certain she's never heard her mother's voice go above a normal speaking level. The raging disapproval in her mother's tone was deafening to Peggy anyways.

So, she packed up her small flat. Bought a one way ticket to New York. Put a note in her parents mailbox, and left.

—-

"Everyone," her new boss says in a perfectly flat voice, "this is our newest recruit, Peggy Carter. She'll be taking the spot in local beat, but can be a floater if needed."

He nods at her and disappears behind his office door.

"He's not one for speeches." A voice says behind her. She spins to see a handsome man leaning against a desk. "I'm Bucky Barnes. We'll be partners in local beat. This is your desk-" he points to an empty one by a thick structural support beam. "Sorry about the location. When Sousa left, everyone shuffled desks and as lowest seniority—" he looks at her, possibly expecting her to complain. But she just walks over and sets her box down on the top.

"I don't mind in the least. Just happy to have a job here, honestly."

He smiles and she finds she thinks she passed the first test.

"A go-getter, not a complainer." He says easily, "you'll fit in great here."

She hops on the edge of her desk, heels bumping against the metal sides, "I hope so."

"Come on," he says, "let's do a real introduction."

He leads her past each desk, introducing her to her new colleagues.

James Morita, who does reviews for all the restaurants, movies, and events in the tri-state area.

"Call me Jim," he says with a cheeky grin before Bucky smacks the back of his head.

"You know the rules, if one of us can't have it. No one can."

Peggy raises an eyebrow and Bucky sighs. "By some bad karmic coincidence, three of us have the first name James. So, after a month of us getting annoyed about who was being summoned to Phillips' office, we instated a rule. This is now a Jim, James, Jimmy, and 'J' free zone. My middle name is Buchanan, therefore I am Bucky or Barnes. Morita is Morita. James Montgomery Falsworth is Monty, and Jacques Denier isn't technically a James but it is a J name and is therefore forbidden. So he goes by Denier and he's down in advertising."

He introduces her to the rest of the room and she comes to a stop in the middle of it.

She points to each person as she speaks, "okay, let me see if I've got this straight. You're Barnes, and you're local beat with me, Monty is on the business beat, Morita is Reviews, Denier is down in advertising with Rose who helps with phone calls, Gabe is on world beat. Hodge does sports with Thompson. Phillips' does his editing on his own…" she pauses, "who else do I need to know about?" She spots an empty desk, with its top propped up like an artist's.

Barnes taps a pen against the top of his desk, "Timothy Dugan is our first responder liaison, he's here pretty often, and our art beat and layout/design guy is Steve, but he's out sick. Which happens pretty often, so make sure you have his email. He always gets his work done, but he does it online when he's out."

"Seems inconvenient." She says lightly, "for layout and design to be gone all the time."

Barnes just shrugs, "maybe it would be, but he's only ever missed a few deadlines in his 5 years here, and his work's incredible. Trust me, Phillips will fire anyone who even thinks a grammatical error, but Steve's work is top notch, hence why he's still here even though he's out sick a lot."

She nods, accepting this. If he's worked here for half a decade then she's sure he's competent. Truthfully it's her who will have to ensure she earns her place.

Barnes walks her back to her desk and leans against it. "We're—" his eyes trail over to the desks where Hodge and Thompson sit, then they come back to her, a raised eyebrow in his face, "— mostly a tight knit group." He says calmly, no threat or hint of one in his tone, "and we function really well because we're all pretty open with each other. So, I don't know what kind of news background you have, but this is not one of those cut-throat, steal each other's big stories, kill-for-the-by-line type rooms. We just expect high quality work and we work together to achieve that. Sound like something you can abide by?"

She looks around at the group of desks where the men are either working or chatting. She'd applied to this paper specifically because of their level headed and calm reporting. None of the over exaggerated headlines to try to grab people's attention. Just solid reporting and quality information.

"I look forward to it." She grins. He grins back.

—-

She gets to work right away and is pleasantly surprised to find that she and Gabe have a lot in common. They discover their mutual love of languages and start speaking to each other in German before switching to French. She laughs as he rings down to advertisement, where the exuberant French man shouts joyous tidings on her first day in rapid fire French. She spends a bit of time getting to know about Bucky and his life and he does the same. By the time lunch rolls around, they're trading light hearted barbs like old pals.

She finds Monty, a fellow Brit, as agreeable as could be. They reminisce about what they miss of good Ol' England and he informs her of a proper tea shop just a few blocks away and she promises to try it.

Morita and she bond over a love of food and movies and Barnes walks over, sitting on the top of the desk and resting his foot on a chair, "Steve's going to be so mad he's missing this conversation," he laughs.

"Does he like movies?" Peggy asks innocently.

Morita laughs, "does he like movies?" He laughs again and Barnes is chucking as well.

"The guy can recite any line from any movie he's seen. Memory like a steel trap!" Barnes shifts, sipping from a coffee mug that says Sentinel Star Register. "He loves to talk about movies and art and all that stuff."

"I look forward to meeting him." Peggy responds, "have you all been working here for awhile?"

Monty and Morita have both been there for 7 years. Gabe has only been there for 3, Denier has 4 years under his belt and Barnes and Steve started together just over 5 years ago.

"I've got a lot of catching up to do." She muses, eyeing the way each has made their desk their own unique space.

"Just be yourself." Barnes says as he sips from his mug, "we're not keeping track."

They hear Phillips' phone ring and she watches as their heads turn towards his closed door.

They hear gruff speaking and then the clang of the landline hitting its receiver. "Uh-oh." Barnes says, a smirk on his face, "looks like it's going to be another good day for local."

Peggy's about to ask why when Phillips' door bursts open and he stabs a finger at Barnes.

"Get down to 57th. Robbery was stopped last night, and Dugan agrees it's too much of a coincidence. Just because he changes his MO doesn't mean we won't catch him eventually. Go see what you can find out. And take Carter with you. Good first day experience."

Barnes salutes, "yes sir." And he's up and grabbing a small leather bag that he tosses over his shoulder. "Come on Carter, hope you brought more comfortable shoes."

She smirks, "I wouldn't wear heels if I couldn't handle them."

He blinks at her and then grins, "never should have doubted. Come on."

He leads her out of the bullpen and into the elevator. As they exit the large brick building, she starts her inquiries.

"Phillips talked about a coincidence? And an MO change? What's special about this robbery?"

Barnes shakes his head as they weave and walk through the busy sidewalks. "It's not about the robbery, it's about who stopped it." They step down the stairs to the subway and his voice reverberates against the tile. "Maybe… I dunno… 6-ish years ago? This string of weirdly stopped robberies or burglaries or assaults or whatever started happening. Especially in this specific few block radius in Brooklyn. So people started paying attention, wondering if it was the same person stopping them all. Once people started paying close attention though, whoever was doing it stopped. Then not even a few months later, we start getting reports about some guy stopping criminals left and right. But no one ever sees his face. So no one knows who he is."

They step off at their stop and Barnes resumes his tale, "well, then it becomes like a game, the 'who can catch this guy and figure out his deal first' game? But no one does. And then right, I dunno.. 5 years ago? It was right around the time I started working the local beat at the Sentinel— the web of this guy's reach started expanding. Soon he starts rounding up politicians and dropping them off at the local precinct's door with the evidence of their corruption or whatever the hell it was tied to their chests. Not only that, but things that were broken start getting fixed, like lights at the community center, and fence posts at the public parks."

"You're not seriously saying this is being done by one man?"

Barnes shrugs, "we don't know. It's been over 6 years and we still don't know jack shit about this guy. Everyone who's ever been tied up or caught by him says that he either takes out the lights first or knocks them out before they even know he's there. So we don't even have a description. Just that he seems to be pretty strong, which, unsurprisingly, is not that big of a help."

Peggy watches as they approach a police line, "so what does Phillips mean about an MO change?"

"Well, like I said, I think I musta got close one day when I started sniffing around, seeing if I could piece together maybe what neighborhood he lived in, or I don't know, just narrow it down. But then the crimes that got stopped started happening at random. No rhyme or reason to location, but there's parts of his MO that don't change, like there's usually a significant lack of damage, and the people are never harmed, you know? Like sure they get beat to knock them out, but this guy doesn't wail on 'em. But the MO that really ties this guy is that if there's a camera anywhere within a 5 block radius of the crime, it gets wiped. No explanation, just wiped. So we know it has to be him when that happens."

"Seems like you don't really know anything." She says with a raised eyebrow.

Barnes looks at her with a wry grin. "This guy has been a thorn in Phillips' side since the beginning. Phillips' hates vigilantes and he hates ones that do actual good even more—" he huffs a laugh, "Because it's still not by the letter of the law. And this guy or team or whoever has been 3 steps ahead of us every time. Really burns Phillips' backside."

"Why did he send us? What are we to find?"

"Phillips is hoping he'll get sloppy and make a mistake some day, or forget to erase the camera footage or something, that's why he sends us to check the scene, but I like to study the damage. It tells you more than you realize."

Peggy tilts her head, "what do you mean?"

Barnes looks around and spots a tall reddish blonde haired man with a large mustache.

"Dugan!"

The man turns and rolls his eyes, "Barnes. I told Phillips there was nothing new."

"You know old Chet can't help himself if he thinks it will help him catch this guy."

"I shoulda known. Who's this?"

Peggy stretches out her hand, "Peggy Carter. I'm Barnes' new partner at the SSR."

"Ah, the new Sousa, huh? Can't believe that lucky rat got that cushy editor's job in LA."

Barnes laughs, "hey, when the doctor orders you to move somewhere with less walking involved in your job, you don't ignore him. So, what's the damage like?"

"Same as the other scenes." Dugan says seriously, getting back to business, "just the normal stuff knocked off the shelves, a display tipped over. One of the glass fronts on a drink fridge door was smashed, looks like an elbow went through it."

"Any blood? DNA?"

"We're checking now. But I bet we find—"

"Bleach." Barnes sighs, cutting Dugan off.

"Bleach?" Peggy asks.

Barnes nods, "that's another thing that just started popping up." He points at Dugan. "Dugan calls me 3 months ago with reports that they found a drop of blood under some large shelf that had been toppled over in whatever fight the guy and our robbers had. So, we start running the blood to see if it matches our culprits, or if it will be our vigilante. Except, the sample goes missing, the cameras are wiped, and next thing we know, bleach is appearing at the crime scenes."

"You're joking." She scoffs, "if he wants to fight crime so badly, why doesn't this vigilante just become a police officer or a detective?"

Dugan looks at her, "he skips a lot of red-tape doing it this way. We've actually noticed a significant drop in crime rates in the local surrounding counties. And the politicians aren't trying their shenanigans as much as usual. I know Phillips wants this guy caught, but…" the man wiggles his mustache, "I don't really mind him taking the scum off the street."

"Me either." Barnes says, pulling out a notepad, "I just hate how good he is at avoiding me." He looks up at Dugan, "okay, what shelves had stuff knocked off them?"

Peggy learns that by gauging which shelves had the most things knocked off, you can guess an approximate elbow height, which could lead to an approximate height height. "I think he's between 6'2" and 6'5"," Bucky tells her as they walk back. "He's tall enough and strong enough to be overpowering all different sizes of assailants. The damage reports always have similar heights whether it's a wall or a shelf or a door."

She listens intently as they walk back towards the SSR. She finds herself fascinated by the thought of catching this vigilante. Well, they may have been trying for 5 years, but they've never had Peggy Carter working the beat.

—-

The rest of the day is spent learning the building and it's quirks.

"Never ever leave the second floor stairwell door open." Barnes warns her with a serious look.

"Why?" She asks.

"Just don't." He responds darkly.

The coffee machine either makes it too watery or too dark. doesn't matter who makes it, or how many new machines they buy. They inform her that their coffee machine is cursed. So it's better for her to bring her own coffee if she wants to drink it.

Phillips always leaves his door closed. If it's open. Beware.

The heat will catch them off guard. Keep a heavy jacket, and a tank top on hand at all times.

She takes notes of everything she needs to know, and starts putting her things along her desk. She hadn't brought too many personal items, but now that she looks at the quirky and personal items her colleagues have, she thinks she might bring her own tomorrow.

"Night, Carter." Barnes calls, waving at her as he gathers his things, "see you bright and early."

She nods and the bullpen gets quiet as everyone leaves. She gathers her bag and places a hand on her desk. She smiles with true excitement at all the wonderful stories she's going to tell from it.

The next morning she stops at a new cafe, still trying out the local shops to find her favorite.

"What do you recommend?" She asks the brown haired barista behind the counter.

"I'm a dessert coffee kind of gal." The woman, whose name tag reads Angie, says. "Do you like your coffee sweet? Black? In the middle?"

Peggy looks at the menu, "truthfully? Probably in the middle. Never black. But I don't like it too sweet either. So, middle."

"Then I advise either the Dirty Chai if you're not looking for coffee but want the caffeine, or our famous cold brew."

"Famous?" Peggy asks with an eyebrow raise.

"Listen. Winter, snow, or ice, people come in and buy the cold brew. I think I deserve to call it famous."

She nods and chuckles, "alright, I'm sold. Give me the cold brew."

Angie nods and rings her up.

She walks up to the 4th floor and enters into the bullpen where Monty and Gabe already are present, arguing about something with a fond annoyance. She sets her coffee down and immediately pulls out the personal touches she's brought. A picture of her and her brother dressed in Halloween costumes when she was in 3rd year.

A tiny metal sculpture of Big Ben, and a tiny fake plant because she can't keep a real one alive to save her life.

She hears more people arrive and glances up to see Thompson heading her way.

"Morning, Marge."

"Please don't call me that." She says with a laugh, "call me Peggy or Carter, anything but Marge or Margaret."

He nods, accepting this information, "did Barnes give you your locker number yet?"

She looks at him quizzically, "there's a locker room?"

"Yeah, yeah. This used to be an old police precinct, so when they renovated this place they kept the locker room."

"That's a nice perk, I suppose." She comments, "everyone gets a locker?"

"Uh-huh." He says with a grin, "yours is 119. Here's your lock and key. It's tradition for all new reporters to go and write their name in sharpie on the inside of their locker. Just add it to the bottom of the list."

He hands her a sharpie and she accepts it. She stands and follows him to a door. He doesn't look like he's walking in with her. "You coming?" She asks.

"Nope. Tradition is for the new recruit to do it in an empty locker room. 119 is the third aisle in."

She nods and enters, the door swinging shut quietly behind her.

She walks forward, her heels clacking on the linoleum.

"Hello?" A confused sounding voice calls.

"Hello?" She calls back.

She hears someone start to scramble and she stops. Wondering if there was someone undressed.

"Sorry," she starts, "I was told the locker room was empty."

She hears a sigh, "Thompson?"

"Indeed."

"Figures." She hears the person quietly mutter.

She waits and then hears footsteps. A tall blonde man appears, eyes behind thickly lensed glasses. His massive shoulders are hunched forward and his eyes don't meet hers for more than a second before pointing at the ground.

"I'm Peggy. New to the SSR, and the local beat with Barnes." She extends her hand and he looks nervously around before shaking her hand quickly and then pulling it back.

"I'm Steve. Art and Layout."

"Nice to meet you Steve," she says cheerily. "I look forward to working together."

He just nods, his eyes still pointed at the ground.

He must be quite shy, she thinks.

"Well, was what Thompson said, was it true? Do people write their names inside their lockers?"

He shakes his head 'yes'.

"Alright, well I'm going to do that. I'll see you out in the bullpen okay?"

"Okay." He says with a small nod, stepping past her and disappearing out the door.

She watches as he leaves, and she thinks that if he stood up a bit, he'd be quite tall and large.

She shrugs and turns back to the task at hand.

—-

She walks out the door and past her desk to Thompson who is smirking at her.

She holds the sharpie out to him, and as he reaches to grab it, she drops it on his desk with a clatter.

"I'm not sure what your goal was. Whether to embarrass myself, or Steve. However you achieved neither goal, and I'll be quite plain with you. I don't enjoy or invite your attempts at a prank. Do so again at your own peril."

She raises an eyebrow and watches as he just sort of gapes at her.

"Geez, Thompson. It's been 5 minutes, you already being an asshole today?" She turns to see an annoyed Barnes standing at his desk.

"Just telling her about the lockers." The accused man grouses, "just tryna make her feel like part of the team."

"Oh yeah?" Barnes asks sarcastically, "and who did you 'accidentally' not know was in there gettin' dressed?"

Thompson doesn't answer and Peggy walks over to him. "I believe he attempted to embarrass myself or Steve, but failed miserably."

Barnes' eyes narrow, and he walks over to Thompson, "I've told you to leave him the hell alone. Mess with Steve again, and you'll find your desk shoved out the window, we clear?"

"Don't be such a den mother, Barnes." Thompson smirks, "Rogers is a big boy, he can handle himself—"

"Why is no one doing their jobs?"

Their eyes snap to Phillips' door where the man is now standing, glaring at them.

"Yes, sir, boss." Thompson says with a smile, "we're on it."

Barnes glares at him before turning back towards his desk. He waves Peggy over and sighs as he sits down. "Ignore him. We all do. He does good work, but that's the best I can say about him. He and Hodge have some sort of complex." He glances over and Peggy follows his eyeline to what she now knows is Steve's desk, although it's empty at the moment, "they pick on him because he's real shy. And doesn't stand up for himself."

"So they're bullies." She says crisply, eyeing Thompson with an investigative stare.

"Yeah." Barnes says simply, "you could say that."

She leans against his desk, "you've known him for a long time?" She asks, nodding towards Steve's desk.

"We were close as kids, but then his ma and him had to move a few times and we kind of lost track of each other. We reconnected in college. He's actually the one who got me this job."

"Has he always been so shy?" She pictures the hunched shoulders and downward pointed eyes.

"Steve?" Bucky laughs, "hell no, when we were kids and he was the smallest kid on the block? He got in every bully's face and was a menace. But in a good way. I don't know how to describe it. He always stood up to people and spoke his mind, as much as a 14 year old can. But—" he taps at his desk, "when we ran into each other randomly in college, he was all big and tall and quiet as hell. Don't know what happened. But I promise if you get to know him? He's a great guy."

Peggy just watches as the bullpen fills up. Her eyes follow the hunched shoulders and tense line of Steve's shoulders as he walks in from the stairwell.

"I'm sure he is." She says with a smile, walking back to her desk.

—-

Lunch arrives and Bucky stands up, yawning. "Valkyrie?" He points to Steve, "you in?" The man nods quietly. Barnes turns to her, "what about you, you up for joining us for lunch?" She nods and begins to gather her things.

Steve stands and accidentally knocks a cup full of pens over, scattering them loudly. Peggy hears Thompson snicker and she rolls her eyes. She steps over with Barnes and helps him clean it up.

"Thanks." He says quietly. He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, knocking his chair and almost tipping it sideways, before Barnes steadies it.

She hears another guffaw of laughter from behind and watches as Steve's shoulders hunch further forward. He gently pushes the glasses back up his nose with the knuckle of his middle finger and looks up at her and Barnes. "Ready?"

"You know you could take them." Barnes says with a snarl as they enter the stairwell and descend.

"Take 'em for what?" Steve asks, "I don't mind."

"Of course you don't." Barnes growls. They exit through the lobby and out onto the bustling street. "This way." He points. They walk a block or two before stopping in front of a solid metal door. He pulls it open and leads them inside.

Peggy looks around in wonder as they walk in. A space themed restaurant, complete with fake planets and stars hanging from the ceiling greet her. She wants to say it's tacky, that it's over the top ridiculous, but truthfully, it reminds her of the terribly entertaining 1950's Sci-fi movies her father used to watch with her. A sort of retro feel to the booths and furnishings and decorations, but a clean crisp ambiance with the lighting and layout.

"What is this place?" She asks as they walk over to an empty booth.

"Steve has been friends with the owner's son since highschool so now we come here all the time. Good food."

They sit on the plastic vinyl of the seat and she studies the room. She notices a few framed movie posters of old sci-fi movies and a sudden nostalgia fills her. "My father and I used to watch old space movies like these—" she points at a few, "this place is charming."

Barnes nods and gestures to Steve. "He always manages to find the coolest places." Steve shrugs and reaches for a menu, knocking the napkin holder sideways. He winces and rights it, "whoops."

"Steven!" A woman with a big grin and incredibly curly dark hair approaches their table. "And James! Welcome, welcome—" she blinks at Peggy, "and who is this dashing woman?"

Peggy laughs and extends her hand, "I'm Peggy, I'm new at the SSR."

"Ah!" The woman shakes her hand excitedly, "I'm Elzie, nice to meet you!" She smiles pleasantly and Peggy watches in surprise as she takes her the knuckle of her index finger and taps on Steve's cheek, "you haven't come over to our house in too long, Steven!"

The tips of his ears go pink and he ducks his head, "sorry, Mrs. Stark, I wasn't feelin' too good the last couple-a days."

She clucks motherly and sighs, "I swear you're sicker than a hospital all the time. You need to eat better! Come here more often, I will ensure you eat what you need."

Steve's cheeks go red and Bucky laughs, "you tell him, Mrs. Stark. I swear he's sick one moment and fine the next. Guess it ain't too different from when we were kids."

Peggy watches the small exchange of familiarity and loves the sense of family it has. "Have you been open long?" She asks the woman, curious.

The woman leans against the booth side and smiles, "I was pregnant with Howard Jr. when we left our home, running to America for a chance for something more." She tilts her head, "now my son is a genius and changing the world at only 22. So, I guess we've been open for 19 of those!"

"That's incredible." Peggy says, "how amazing to have built something so wonderful."

Elzie nods, "yes, I am grateful." She holds out her pad, "but enough of me stealing your lunch break! What will you be having today?"

"I'll have the grilled cheese and tomato soup." Bucky says without even glancing at the menu.

Peggy reads the names and tries to decide as Steve orders.

"Can I have the Cheeseburger, with avocado? And—"

"The fries with the special seasoning. Of course, Steve."

Peggy feels her gravity shift as she watches a soft and genuine smile light up Steve's face. She's never seen him smile before and something about it makes her lightheaded. And it's not that the glasses hid it, but they must have taken most of her attention, because it hits Peggy in that moment just how incredibly attractive Steve is. All strong jawed and big eyes, blonde hair looking soft and cheekbones sharp.

And truthfully the glasses give him a sort of hot librarian vibe—

"And you, dear?"

Peggy blinks, raising her eyes from staring at Steve (who hasn't noticed) to the kind woman who is smiling at her with a hint of amusement.

"Oh, I'll— uh, I'll have the same. Burger with fries. Do you have coke here?"

"Of course, glass or glass bottle?"

"Glass bottle." Both Barnes and Steve say for her. They chuckle at each other and Peggy nods.

"Glass bottle, I guess."

"Glass bottle it is. What about you boys, drinks?"

"Hmm… maybe an Arnold Palmer." Barnes says.

"Can I have a half cut tea?" Steve asks quietly.

"Sure. Comin' right up." She collects the menus and is off with a wink.

"She seems so wonderful." Peggy comments when she's out of ear shot. "Are you guys regulars?"

Steve's nodding but Barnes is the one who speaks, "oh yeah, for sure. Sometimes we can't make it if it's a crazy news week, but we try to come often."

Peggy looks around, noticing that the place is decently full, "that's amazing. I've always wanted to be a regular somewhere."

"Oh, for sure." Barnes says, tapping a pen that she has no idea where it came from on the table, "you gotta have a couple places that know you by heart. That's half the fun of livin' in New York."

Steve's nodding along and she settles back. "I think I found a coffee place just this morning. It's a block away from the SSR, has an amazing cold brew—"

"Angie." Barnes says with a laugh.

"Her place is great," Steve says, "she's real nice."

"Brilliant," Peggy says, "okay, so then it has you two natives stamp of approval then?"

They nod and she rests her elbow on the table, leaning her cheek in her hand, "I'll be honest it's a bit of a relief. There's so many coffee places it's a bit overwhelming."

"Angie's a good bet." Barnes responds, "she's got a consistent cup of coffee and her specialties are good too. Wouldn't say no to her pastries either. It's a solid choice."

"Okay." She says firmly, "that's it then. I'll be a regular there…" she pauses, and feels the tiniest bit of trepidation (something she does not feel often) as she looks between them, "and maybe here, if you guys don't mind a third party joining you at meals?"

Steve smiles at her, that gravity shifting smile, and nods.

Barnes taps the pen to a beat, "we don't mind. Some of the others come sometimes too, just not as often, you'd be welcome to join any meal."

"Thanks." She says honestly. "Any other city recommendations?"

Both of the men lean in, their faces lighting up as they begin to inform her of the places she should try, and ones to avoid. She takes out her notepad and steals Barnes' pen and begins writing things down.

The food is amazing and she makes sure she tips generously.

Steve tells her that if she likes a place to tip well. "They remember good tippers." He says seriously, "and you may think it doesn't make that much of a difference, but it does." He takes a sip of tea, "I once got a tip about an underground art show that was supposed to be top secret, but they told me because they know I love art and I always tipped well. Good tipping opens lots of doors."

Barnes nods along, agreeing.

They walk back to the SSR and she goes to her desk, typing up some leftover articles Sousa had been working on and had left for her. She hears a whoosh of air and ignores it. But when it happens again, she looks up and notices that all eyes are trained on Steve. She turns to Barnes to ask what's happening, but he just holds a finger up to his lips to quiet her, then points to Steve. Watch, he mouths.

She waits, and is stunned a moment later to see Steve crumple up a piece of paper and throw it behind him, not even looking, only for it to land perfectly in a small trash can at least 8 feet behind him.

Peggy looks over in surprise and Barnes is shaking his head in disbelief. She waits, and is rewarded when Steve does it again not two minutes later. She slowly slides her rolling chair over and stops beside Barnes, "this a tradition?"

Barnes shakes his head, "no" he whispers. "It happens really really rarely. Steve will get into such a deep one-track mindset that he zones out, usually resulting in something like this."

Another crumpled paper lands in the trash.

"What is he tossing?" She asks quietly.

"Steve draws, does a lot of freelance logo design for companies that want to place an ad in the paper, or descriptions of people. So he does all the artwork. When he gets in drawing mode, he'll work till it's perfect, hence the tossing of ones he doesn't like."

The door to the stairwell opens and shuts loudly and Peggy watches as Steve shifts, bumping his table and clattering a box of pushpins to the ground.

A loud groan goes up from the bullpen, making Steve's head pop up in confusion. She can see he's wearing headphones.

"Who had 5?" Monty asks, "anyone?"

"I did." Gabe crows. "I had 5."

"Damn." Bucky grouses. "I had 6."

She watches as Steve rolls his eyes and buries his head behind his desk. She looks to Barnes who begins to explain. "Everytime it happens, we make bets about how many iterations will happen the next time. Whoever wins gets $2 bucks from whoever else has bet."

"And Steve is okay with you all betting on him?"

"He's never said anything." Peggy narrows her eyes, knowing that's not the same thing. Barnes laughs, "He's pretty chill. It's honestly usually something impressive that he does when he's zoned out. Kind of funny that when he takes his mind off thinking so much that he mellows out."

—-

Over the next few days, she begins noticing a pattern. Steve's quiet, and shy, and a bit clumsy, making him a target for guys like Thompson and Hodge. But he's nice and level-headed in his temperament. She watches Phillips bluster about when he found a spelling error in Morita's column, only to pass by Steve's and point out a particularly good layout that he appreciated.

She's learned that compliments are hard to come by with Phillips. Thompson and Hodge look on in annoyance as Steve nods and thanks him, going quickly back to his work.

The phone rings and Phillips disappears behind his door.

The next Monday, she's at her desk, cold brew condensating on her desk, when Barnes walks in, an excited grin on his face.

"What is it?" She asks, leaning towards his desk.

He waits, looking expectantly at Phillips' office. The phone rings and he grins,"it's about to be a good day."

They wait for a few minutes before Phillips pops his head out, already shouting, "Barnes! Car—" when he notices them already staring at him, he grumbles and points at them, "get down to city hall. Last night Senator Schmidt was tied to the front doors with a whole briefcase of evidence tied to his ankle—" Barnes starts scrambling, grabbing his things, "Dugan thinks he may actually have seen this yahoo! Get there now! I want this story first and I want that vigilante skewered across my front page! Go!"

Barnes and Peggy give quick, "yes, sirs!" As they gather their things.

"Do we need to tell Steve we won't be back for lunch?"

"No, he called me this morning that he'll be out sick for the next day or so—" He's practically jogging out of the bullpen and she follows quickly.

—-

Dugan's beaming, his mustache stretched widely as they enter City Hall. They glance around and sigh in relief as they seem to be the only reporters there so far.

Peggy stops, grabbing Barnes' shoulder, "wait, you knew before you came to work? How?"

"Your secret lovers?" Dugan teases.

"Excuse me?" Peggy asks, eyes widening.

"No, no." Bucky laughs, "ain't like that. I have a network of people who send me tips or heads up about things. I didn't know what it was going to be, but I knew something big was up by the tip I got this morning." She nods and then turns to Dugan, "what's the scoop?" Barnes asks, notepad and pen out.

"So. Security gets here to open the building at 6a.m. Only to find Senator Johann Schmidt tied with an actual rope to the front double doors. His ankle had a handcuff around it that was also clipped to a briefcase. Inside the briefcase is a whole boatload of allegations. Double dealing in a lot of weapons contracts and taking 'donations' from big companies and pushing for policy changes that benefit the businesses funding him." Then Dugan's voice gets low, "there's also an allegation of his knowledge and possibly participation in using foreign prisoners of war for basically slave labor in other countries."

Peggy practically gasps, while Barnes' eyes go wide as saucers, "what? How'd they figure that one out?"

"According to the documents provided by our vigilante, apparently the companies outside U.S. soil that he's getting funded by, are producing way more—-" he waves his hands, "whatever they're producing than their current employment lists could handle. So whoever did some digging, discovered that they're using prisoners to increase production."

"Oh, shit." Barnes whistles, scribbling in his pad. "Does anyone get to talk to him?"

"Not yet, he's still with the police. He's lawyered up already, obviously, so no one can get near him yet, but if even half of this shit is true, he's going away for a long time."

"Phillips said something about him maybe having a description of our guy though?"

Dugan gets serious, "I thought that's what he said, but it's something else, and I hope he's wrong."

"What? Why?"

"Schmidt was hollering this morning about the guy who accosted him. Apparently, Schmidt keeps a small concealed weapon in a side holster and fired off at least three shots before he was knocked out. He's been screaming at the police to go to hospitals and look up gunshot victims reports because he says he knows he at least got one or two shots in him."

"What!" Barnes shouts, "he shot him? Hell. I'll try to do some digging at the hospitals. I still know that nurse over at Brooklyn Med." He pauses and sighs… "But geez… I hope he's wrong too. How did he know he got the guy if the lights were out?"

Dugan grimaces, "Schmidt says he was wearing a thick coat last night. But today, he's found without one. Never has the vigilante taken anything off the victims. Ever. What does that tell you?"

Peggy speaks before Barnes does, "blood. He got blood on Schmidt's coat."

Dugan nods solemnly, "that's my thinking too. Leaving a bleached garment on a senator probably wouldn't have been a good look, breathing bleach for that long is not good, not to mention getting every speck of blood out of fabric is a lot harder than hard surfaces. So, instead he took the coat. That's why Schmidt's so sure he hit him."

Barnes curses, "Shit. Could Schmidt have a physical description?"

"Not really. From what I could hear while he was ranting to police about being assaulted, was that the guy nabbed him in a parking lot, knocking out the lights without Schmidt seeing him. Only after he heard what was in the briefcase did he clam up and call his lawyer."

"Wait, the guy got shot and he still carried him here to city hall?"

"Maybe we've been wrong this whole time about it being just one guy. Maybe you guess that it's a team is right, or at least has a buddy?"

"Cameras?"

"Wiped for a 5 block radius for 22 minutes between 11:41 and 11:53p.m."

"Any blood trails?"

"We've got police canvassing in each direction. So far no, but who knows."

"This is the mistake Phillips is hoping for." Bucky says unhappily, "damn. Poor guy. Hope he's okay."

"I guess we will see. If the vigilante acts stop, maybe we start looking at obituaries." Dugan adds solemnly.

"Shit."

"What about the garage where he was taken? What about those cameras?" Peggy asks, her notepad out as well.

"Wiped." Dugan says, listening as his radio chirps.

"And the blocks around that?"

"Also wiped. This guy is good. I don't know how he can hack a system so efficiently to be wiping hundreds of public cameras. Not to mention, he has to be a local because he avoids the private closed network cameras that some of the local businesses have. We've tried checking those CCTV's in the surrounding area whenever the vigilante strikes. But nothing of interest shows. Hell, the guys could be anyone, we don't even know who or what to look for."

"He can't be working alone." Peggy says, the tip of her pen touching her nose as she thinks, "he just can't."

"I think maybe he has a guy in the chair." Barnes adds, "someone doing the tech work while he does the leg work. So maybe instead of searching for the vigilante, we search for the techie."

"Tell me if you find anything, and I'll call you and Philips with any updates on this side."

"Okay, call us if Schmidt wants to speak to the press, I want first dibs."

"You got it."

They walk back out of city hall and in a different direction. "Where are we going?"

"Steve's."

"Why?"

"One, to check on him. Second, I wanna know if he thinks he might be up to drawing a portrait if Schmidt starts to remember any physical details."

"Okay, should I head back?"

"Nah, he won't mind."

They walk a few blocks, take a short subway ride, and walk to an old but well-kept looking apartment building. They walk up a few floors and Barnes knocks on a door. They wait a minute and then knock again. When no one answers, Barnes frowns, "maybe he's asleep…" he knocks again, harder, but still no answer.

"Huh." Barnes shrugs and gestures for them to head back out. Peggy feels a thread of worry about Steve but follows Barnes back down the stairs.

"What did he say he was sick with?"

"Didn't. But he was always catching all kinds of crap when we were kids. Almost died of pneumonia one winter, and scarlet fever the next. He'll be fine though. He can always call if he needs something."

They grab a cup of coffee on their way back to the SSR and Peggy starts asking more questions.

"How did Dugan become our liaison?"

"That was Steve." Barnes yawns, taking a sip of his coffee, "we'd just started working here and he made fast friends with Dugan after a protest turned violent at an art museum that Steve was covering the story for. Somehow, Steve found out Dugan's niece was in a children's hospital for leukemia, and spent hours explaining how the insurance system works and how to get her proper coverage. Steve ended up figuring out that the hospital was withholding certain benefits that were kind of hard to pinpoint and getting her whole bill taken care of. Dugan's a loyal type of guy. Earn his trust like that—" he whistles, "ever since then, Dugan has given us first dibs to news stories, and even provided security when we needed it."

"And you said Steve got you your job as well?"

"Um-hmm." Barnes nods, "I was in college and we both got internships here our freshman year. What about you?" He asks, "what made you decide on journalism?"

"Truthfully, I was watching some news report back home when I was a young, and I just felt so angry at the way they were presenting the case, obviously skewing it towards their bias, and so I decided I could do better. That's what I'm aiming to do."

"Integrity." Barnes says, not a hint of teasing in his tone, "I like that. It's a lot more rare than it should be."

They enter the SSR building and walk up to their stairwell.

It's relatively quiet when she hears Barnes pick up the phone.

He tries twice before setting it down and looking concerned.

"What is it?" She asks, "Dugan not answering?"

"Hmm?" He says, looking over at her, lost in thought. "Oh, no. No- I—" he laughs at himself, "no, I was trying Steve. I know what I said about him being able to take care of himself, but old habits die hard I guess."

"Old habits?"

He nods, deep in thought, "yeah, uh, when we were little and Steve would get sick, I would always go over to his house and keep an eye on him and hang out with him when his ma had to work. So I'm used to checking in on him."

"Oh," Peggy says, "maybe he's at his mothers?"

He shakes his head "no, she died when he was in highschool."

Peggy's heart drops, "oh… his father?"

"Died before Steve could talk."

"Oh…"

Barnes says solemnly, "yeah, that's why I worry so much. Steve's always had the worst luck."

"How so?"

Barnes gets up and comes to lean against her desk, looking at Steve's. "Sousa and I used to, along with the Starks, keep track of Steve. Make sure he was taken care of during holidays or stuff like that, with no family around we always invited him over. Sometimes he takes us up on it, sometimes he doesn't. Says he doesn't want to intrude on our 'family' time." Barnes frowns. "He's sick pretty often, and you've seen him wear headphones a lot?" She nods, "he lost the majority of his hearing in his left ear, and some in his right when we were kids, so he does it to cover up the fact that he can't hear."

Peggy swallows thickly, "why hide that? Why not get a hearing aid?"

"He has them, one in each ear, but he doesn't like to point them out. So he wears headphones a lot to hide them. Not even listening to music."

Peggy gets a sinking feeling, "and?"

"No, no 'and', he's just sick and alone a lot and he usually answers when I call his house and I don't like that he's not."

"Maybe he went to get checked out at a clinic?"

"Maybe." Barnes says slowly, "but that's not his style. His style is the suffer in silence type."

"Men." Peggy says with an amused eyeroll.

"Hey!" He protests with a laugh, "Steve's worse than all the rest of us combined. I'm honestly surprised that he—" His voice trails off and his eyes glaze over.

"Barnes?" She asks, "what is it?"

His brow furrows and he looks at her, "I've never thought about it… but… I'm actually surprised Steve doesn't fight me more about coming to work when he's sick. He always still tried to go to school or do stuff when he was sick as a kid. I'm just realizing now that the fact that he actually stays home when he's sick—" he shakes his head, "it's a big deal."

"You said you lost track of him when he moved? Maybe he figured out around then that it was better to let his body rest?" She says with a raised eyebrow.

"Guess so," he smiles wryly, "maybe it happened along with his insane growth spurt." Barnes sighs, "okay, anyways, I need to call a few tech people I know. You got any contacts with anyone in tech? If we can track who is wiping the cameras maybe we can get a lead on the vigilante?"

"I don't," she admits, "but I can start cold calling and see if anyone affected by the wipes has any leads or anything?"

"Okay, good, do that."

—-

Around lunch Barnes looks over, "any luck?"

"No." She sighs, "there's a lot of jargon I don't understand, but also, the cameras we're trying to access are mostly city cameras, and we don't have permission to access those. Can we ask Dugan?"

"We can ask him and see what he thinks, maybe he can get us access or connect us to someone who can help. I'm hungry, Valkyrie?"

She nods.

They enter the restaurant and sit at their usual booth.

A waitress comes and takes their order. When she's about to leave, Barnes asks, "hey can you send out Mrs. Stark when she gets a chance?"

"Oh, Mrs. Stark isn't in today."

"Oh," Barnes nods, "okay, then Mr. Stark when he gets a chance."

"He's not here either. Do you need me to leave a message?"

Barnes looks at her as if she has two heads. "What?"

"Do you want me to leave—"

"No, I heard what you said, but I—-" he frowns, "I've never been here when at least one of them wasn't here. Do you know why they're not here?"

The girl shrugs, "just that their kid was sick."

She walks away and Barnes sits there with a furrowed brow.

"What is it?" Peggy asks, "you've got your reporter look."

"No, It's just that… Howard's just a year or two younger than me… I don't think they have any other kids… He must be pretty sick for both of them to have called out of work. They never leave this place unattended. When they take vacations they close up shop instead of leaving it to someone else."

"So… it's unusual? Are you saying you're worried about them?"

"No, I— I don't know." he frowns, "come on." He gets up and goes to the side wall by the bathrooms where the pay phone is. He pushes quarters through the slot and dials a number. He waits and someone answers, "Hi, I'm Bucky Barnes, I'm calling for Howard Stark?"

There's a pause and Peggy hears the voice go from female to male.

"Hey Howard, it's Bucky." She hears a cheery response and her reporter's sense goes up as he turns to her, eyes thoughtful, still listening on the phone. "So Howard, are you feeling okay?"

There's a pause and then she hears a "—yeah, why?"

Barnes looks at her, "Howard, you got any siblings?"

There's a much longer pause and she watches as Barnes' hands grip the receiver tightly, "no, Barnes, what is it?"

"I just, I'm here at your parent's place and they're not here, the waitress said their kid was sick, so I just got worried."

There's only a brief pause before Peggy hears rapid fire speaking, only parts of which she catches, "oh you know my ma and—- worry too much—- and I —- wasn't anything—- barely a sneeze—- nothin' to worry about—"

"Oookay," Barnes responds slowly, "if you say so."

They exchange a few more pleasantries before Barnes hangs up and looks at her. "I know it seems dumb, but that was so weird. Something's off."

"Maybe a private family matter?" She asks, unsure.

"Maybe?" They walk back to their table and he sits in a huff. "You're right though." He leans on the table, "something about that has my reporter's sense going haywire. I hope everything's okay."

Peggy snaps her fingers, "you said they're close with Steve? Would he be the sick kid they're referring too?"

Barnes pauses and then smiles, "could be. Maybe he went over to their place. That would explain why he's not answering his home phone." He seems to relax at the thought and something about potentially solving that mystery makes her smile.

After their lunch they head back to the SSR. Phillips is chomping at the bit to find out what's happening, but there's been no updates so far. At the end of the work day, she's packing up her stuff when she hears Phillips' phone ring. She glances up, as does everyone else. She hears him answer it and the bull pen falls silent.

He exits and points at Barnes, "bank robbery gone wrong, there's two hostages. Get down there, now."

Barnes nods and looks at Peggy who stands, "let's go."

"Morita!" Barnes calls, "tell the printers to hold just an hour or so, okay?"

The man nods and they're out the door.

The bank is a few subway stops away and they practically run towards the flashing lights. Dugan is nowhere to be seen and they stand behind the police line, trying to figure out what the situation is.

A policeman radios close to them and they discover that there are three robbers, two hostages, and a security guard who is wounded. Both of them are scribbling notes and listening to the chaos surrounding them.

Barnes is trying to flag down a policeman, when Peggy clutches at his arm, "What?" He asks, but she just points to the building as the lights flicker off.

He practically chokes, and starts shouting, "the guy! The guy is in there!"

Peggy grabs him, "the cameras, do you think they're wiped right now?"

They stare at each other, then he's turning and shouting at the nearby policeman, "is Cpt. Dugan around?"

"He's over at city hall-" the guy shouts back, "you really think the vigilante's in there?"

Peggy can see that he seems to be a newer recruit.

"Look, the lights went out, right? Did you guys cut power?" The policeman shakes his head, "that's his MO. Ten bucks says you're about to find three robbers tied up and—" gunshots ring out and the sound of glass cracking. They watch, staring at the dark big glass windows, trying to see. The sky is already fading and there's nothing even to watch, but they strain their eyes anyways.

"Seal all the exits!" She hears a policeman shout into his radio, "I don't want anyone getting out of that building!"

They wait for mere minutes before there's another huge sound of glass crashing.

"He's on the roof!" Come a wild call through the radio,

"The roof of the bank?" The new policeman asks.

"No! He broke through a window and jumped to the nearest roof on the back!" The reply comes. "Call in backup!"

"Oh shit!" Barnes says before taking off, Peggy following quickly behind.

They race around the building where the police line wraps the back exits and sees the shattered glass, they look up as if the dark night sky might reveal something, but there's nothing to see. Somewhere in the distance they hear more glass shattering and they just look at each other in awe.

—-

Instead of going home, they go back to the SSR to type up the story for the morning news.

Three Assailants Nabbed by Vigilante in Heist Gone Wrong

Peggy and Bucky sit together, going through their notes and quotes to ensure they've got every detail included as they get ready to send it to Phillips who is grumbling around in his office. He'd spent the better part of an hour chewing them out for missing their chance to 'put a stop to this hooligan's wild actions'.

All three hostages are safe. Two are unharmed, while the injured security personnel was transferred to Brooklyn Medical. The security guard suffered a gunshot wound to the arm but is expected to make a full recovery.

They finish up and send it off. Sitting there quietly as they hear Phillips conversing with the printers.

"So." Barnes starts, "Schmidt was wrong."

"About?"

"About shooting the guy."

"Why would he be wrong?"

"Because no one who got shot is going crashing through buildings like that." Peggy just sits silently and his eyes narrow, "spit it out, Carter."

"We've already agreed that he carried Schmidt from the garage after being shot. Why is that possible and not this?"

"He was running on adrenaline at first. Now he's got to be feeling like crap. No way he's able to do this."

"So you're saying it's a different man there tonight? That it's a team?"

Barnes scowls, but she knows it's not at her. "See, this is what's been driving Phillips mad for half a decade. How can we know so little about this guy or guys?"

"Seems like he knows how to expertly avoid the police and press. How does he manage it every time for all these years?"

And they both look at each other and speak at the same time,

"Maybe he is police!" Bucky shouts,

"Maybe he is police!" Peggy gasps.

They blink at each other, then laugh and fall back against their chairs. "It sure would explain his knowledge level if he was."

She nods, agreeing, "maybe Dugan would have some thoughts on who it could be, or if it could be police?"

"I'll ask him tomorrow."

—-

Peggy is back in the SSR the next day and holding a cup of cold brew as she sits on Barnes's desk. He's on the phone with Dugan and they're running their idea past him.

Eventually he hangs up and sighs. "He doesn't know. He said it's a possibility, but he's got no idea how they would manage that and their full time job. He did a check of his precinct and no one has called out sick, or is missing. So if we're holding to the theory he got shot, well.. that's hard to hide. He's going to call some other precincts to see if they're missing anyone, or if any of theirs have called in sick."

She nods and they sit there quietly for a bit as Monty and Hodge argue about whether the exchange of the local team's sponsors counts as business or sports.

"You ever—" Barnes starts, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you ever feel like something is right in front of your face but you still can't see it?"

She ponders this, looking around the bullpen, "not usually, but I do in this instance. I can't imagine what it feels like for you for 5 years."

"Shitty."

—-

They try everything: running through CCTV footage, trying to trace who wiped the cameras, waiting to hear back if there's any DNA or blood samples left behind. But they're left at the end with what they started. Nothing.

Phillips loses his top at them for a good 45 minutes before stabbing at Barnes, "call Rogers and tell him if he doesn't get his ass to work today, he's going to be fired!"

The room falls silent and Phillips slams into his office. Barnes looks at her in shock. "He must be really mad. He's never threatened that before."

Peggy hops off the desk, "call him!"

Barnes picks back up the phone and she watches as he waits for someone to pick up. He sags in relief and she hears a voice on the other line. "Yeah, Steve it's me. Phillips is on a rampage—-" she hears Steve responding and Bucky is shaking his head, "no, Steve. You've got to get down here. He threatened to fire you—-" Barnes throws up his hands, "you think I know what the hell he wants you to do? Just get your sick ass down here!" She hears a confirmation and the click of the line and Barnes looks at her with worried eyes. "He's coming… but he sounded awful on the phone."

—-

They work in mostly silence as they can still hear Phillips practically bellowing on the phone.

The elevator dings and Peggy's eyes snap up as the door opens.

She hears Barnes practically shoot out of his chair at the sight. Steve exits the elevator, looking pale and stiff. She feels her heart leap in her chest at how awful he looks. They're both at his side in an instant.

"Steve! What the hell, you look awful!"

Steve glares at Bucky, "geez. Thanks Buck."

"Steve, you do look quite out of sorts, are you—" she's about to ask if he should be here, but Phillips' door opens and he exits, looking about ready to shout at anything that's making noise when he catches sight of them.

Peggy is caught off guard by the genuine concern that crosses Phillips' face as he catches sight of Steve.

"Hey boss." Steve says, his voice low and soft, "sorry. I'll get to work real quick."

"You look like death warmed over, Rogers." Phillip grouses, "what the hell happened?"

"Just under the weather." He responds, walking slowly and stiffly to his desk.

"More like one foot in the grave." She hears Hodge mock whisper. Both she and Barnes glare at him, but Steve either doesn't hear it or ignores him.

"Well," Phillips says a bit awkwardly, the rage wind knocked out of his sails a bit, "just… don't—" he huffs and glares at the newsroom, "is it everyone's break time? No! Get the hell back to work."

They chorus, "yes, sirs." As he slams his door.

Peggy and Barnes watch as Steve uses his middle knuckle to push up his glasses. "You sure you're okay to be here. Steve?" Bucky asks softly, "I don't think Phillips will fire you if you left."

"I'm okay." Steve responds, not looking up, his hand reaching slowly for the stack of work on his desk. "I'll be fine."

"Surely you can do this work at home?" Peggy asks, "where you're more comfortable?"

He glances up at them and shakes his head, "no, Phillips' is right. I can't be skipping work so often. It's not fair to the rest of you."

"Please," Barnes starts, "it's not like we pick up your slack."

"Oh yeah?" Steve asks, a noticeable wince crossing over his face, "I called Monty to do layout for me yesterday, did you know that?"

Barnes gapes at Steve and Peggy blinks in surprise. "Exactly." Steve responds, accidentally knocking a file to the floor with his elbow. "I can't keep calling in favors. Gotta earn my keep here."

Hodge appears from behind, "yeah, Stevie, gotta actually work to earn money. No mooching off the rest of us." Hodge leans and rests a sharp elbow against Steve's shoulder, who visibly flinches away from the contact.

They freeze and Hodge looks frozen in surprise.

"What was that?" Bucky asks.

"Nothin'." Steve says, shoulders hunching forward even more.

"You flinched?" Bucky turns to Hodge, "what the hell did you do?"

"Nothin!" The man grouses, "just leaned on him is all—"

"Well, don't." Bucky growls, shoving him away.

"I'm fine, Buck." Steve says in a low voice. "Leave it be."

"Y'all are acting like he's made of glass." Hodge grumbles before stalking away.

"Steve." Bucky says, dropping his voice low. "I have seen you get your lights knocked out on the school yard more times than I can count and I've never seen you flinch. What gives?"

Steve sighs, "I, uh— tripped and fell pretty hard against a sharp edge."

Bucky just stares at him, then reaches for his shirt, "let me see—"

Peggy watches as Steve moves faster than she's ever seen him, leaping up from his chair and avoiding Barnes' grasp. Wincing at the same time and trying very valiantly to cover it.

"Steve—" Barnes orders fiercely, "let. Me. See."

"You're not my ma, Buck." Steve responds in an annoyed voice. "Stop acting like it. I said I'm fine. And I am."

"You look like shit, Steve. What is it, is it your heart?"

Peggy looks at Barnes with wide eyes, "what about his heart?"

"Bucky!" Steve growls, and Peggy can hear as the whole bullpen around them is now falling silent to listen, "no. It's not my heart and how about you keep your damn mouth shut for once!"

Whether by request or by surprise at his friend's words, Barnes does indeed fall silent, eyes wide and mouth parted.

"I'll be right back." Steve says quietly, walking stiffly out towards the locker rooms.

Peggy turns to Barnes and waits, because he looks too stunned to say anything and she knows that look.

It takes a few moments but he blinks back to reality and shakes his head. "Shit."

"What? And what about his heart? Barnes, what the hell is going on?"

"Steve's got a heart condition, or did, I dunno, he mentioned once that he'd gotten it fixed, but I dunno how those things work." He pushes his hair back, "Steve never gets angry really, so the fact that he just did? I've only seen him act like that a few, very few times and it's always when he's in real legitimate pain. Like broken bone pain or something."

"He said he tripped, and he is walking rather stiffly."

"I should go check on him—" Barnes starts, stepping forward, but she grabs his shoulder.

"Stop, he said he's fine."

"He's a liar though, he always downplays his—"

"Then let me, alright? I doubt he'll punch me for checking on him."

Barnes sighs as she steps forward, following where Steve had disappeared to.

She opens the door softly and steps in, keeping on her tiptoes so her heels don't make sound. She knows it's rude to sneak up on someone who can't hear, but she doesn't want him bolting at the sound of someone's arrival. She hears an annoyed sigh and peeks around the corner to see Steve's back facing her as he sits on the wooden benches in between the lockers.

He doesn't look up or turn around. "Did Bucky send you?"

"No." She responds crisply, coming to stand behind him, "I volunteered in his stead. Least likely to get yelled at. I hope…"

She watches as his shoulders curl forward. He turns, sliding on his glasses and raises an eyebrow at her. "Seems a bit dramatic."

"You're the one shouting in the bullpen, not me."

He chuckles and then attempts to hide another wince.

"You really are in pain." She states, coming forward, "do you need to see a doctor?"

He shakes his head, "no, I'm good. I promise."

He stands up getting ready to turn towards her when she gasps, pointing. "What is that?!"

He turns around and looks at her, "what?"

"On your leg, you're bleeding!" She watches as he attempts to twist to look at the back of his thigh where she's pointing and then grimaces and hunches forward, clutching his side.

"Steve!" She calls, stepping forward and reaching to steady him, but he backs away.

"I'm fine," he huffs, "I promise, I'm fine."

"You're not fine." She snaps, "tell me why you're bleeding from your leg this instant!"

His eyes flick away and back to her and he lowers himself slowly to the bench. "Don't tell the others," he says slowly, feeling behind his leg and wincing at the pressure. His fingers come away red and he sighs. "Shoot."

"Don't tell the others what?"

He glances up at her and she can see he's conflicted, but he takes a deep breath, "I bought a glass coffee table. Everyone told me I shouldn't. I know. I'm not the most steady on my feet, but I liked the look of it, so I did it. Well, I was really sick last night and my toe hit the edge of my rug, and I went crashing through it." He looks at the ground, "my shoulder and side took the brunt, but I had to get some stitches in my leg where a piece sliced at my thigh."

She gapes at him and then sits next to him, "Steve, I'm so sorry, that's awful."

He grimaces again and shakes his head, "don't tell the guys, okay? They'll just laugh and say 'I told you so'. Don't worry, I've learned my lesson."

She nods, and then frowns at him, "not even Barnes?"

"Especially not Bucky. You see him, he's the worst mother hen of all."

She nods, "I suppose. You'll tell him someday?"

"Yeah, when I'm all better." He says with a grin that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Okay," she says softly, "I'll go report that you're all fine."

He nods and she leaves.

She waves the curious eyes away and Barnes comes over to her desk. "What was it?"

Peggy decides to be somewhat truthful, "his pride's a bit hurt is all. Leave him be, he'll be fine."

Barnes sighs and slumps into his desk.

She notices that when Steve comes out of the locker room, he's in a different pair of pants.

Over two weeks pass with no sight or sign of the vigilante. Peggy feels truly settled in all aspects of life now. She's a regular at three places, has her apartment and it's quirks worked out, a relatively regular social schedule, and she and Barnes get along famously even as they bicker about what details to include in their articles.

She and Steve also grow close. When she doesn't have something pressing, she'll stand behind him and watch as he moves his hands, magically creating a work of art. Whether it's a logo, an ad, or if he's just doodling.

She'll sit with him and Barnes at the Valkyrie or at their desks and talk about their childhoods or families. They talk about movies and music and she discovers to her delight that she and Steve grew up watching a lot of similar movies. Old sci-fi flicks and MGM musicals.

"My ma loved Doris Day and Howard Keel." He says with a soft smile, "she would always be singing some song of theirs, and Jane Powell too. Loved seeing her so happy."

"My parents always sang, I Can Do Without You, whenever they were feeling particularly spirited." Peggy adds with a smile.

"That song's hilarious." His glasses tip down his nose and she has the overwhelming urge to push it back up with her index finger. But she doesn't.

She internally chastises herself as she walks back to her desk. The desire to find some way to make physical contact with him has been growing by the day. She's never met a sweeter and more endearing human being, and she wishes they'd met before they'd become co-workers. Because she has a rule, and she does not date co-workers. Not anymore.

As she sits at her desk, she finds her eyes following the movement of his head and shoulders as he draws and works at his artist's desk.

"He'd probably say yes." She glances up in surprise to see Barnes standing there with a smirk on his face.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Come on." He drawls, leaning against her desk, talking quietly, "I've been watching you eye him since that first lunch at the Valkyrie together. He's a real catch, you should ask him."

Peggy rolls her eyes. "You're imagining things now, Barnes. Not great for a reporter."

"You're gunna lie straight to my face like that, Carter? That's cold."

She shoves at his leg, trying to push him off her desk but he just laughs.

"Even if I did." She huffs quietly, "I don't date co-workers."

He shakes his head in mock sadness, "that's too bad. I was planning on asking you out tonight."

She kicks at his ankle and he yelps and jumps away. "You're a ruffian." She hisses at him, laughing.

He laughs back and winks, "don't wait too long."

She blinks, "for what?"

He walks back over and leans in close, talking quietly, "some fine lady real soon is going to figure out what a catch Steve is, and snap him up. You'll have missed your chance."

She ignores the wave of jealousy that she is definitely not feeling at this imaginary woman. "Barnes, you're impossible, you know that?"

"So they say."

—-

Three days later, a car robbery is stopped, the thief knocked out and left for the police.

She watches as Barnes and Dugan quietly share their relief that whoever he is seems to be okay.

Peggy begins to feel more and more sure that what Barnes' said is true. The answer is in front of their faces. They just can't see it.

And it becomes an itch at the back of her mind that she can't let go unscratched.

—-

They're sitting at the Valkyrie, eating the daily special when Peggy realizes something,

"Steve, who do you think this vigilante could be?"

Barnes groans and Steve just huffs, "who cares? He's just some guy. I don't know why everyone's so obsessed with him."

Peggy's surprised with his reaction, "so you don't think what he's doing is good?"

Steve shrugs, "sure I mean, I'm glad someone's helping out but…" he looks up at her, intense eyes meeting her gaze, "imagine if everyone was helping out and doing the right thing—" his eyes fall back onto the table, "then it wouldn't be so special what he's doing. It wouldn't be something to focus on. People doing the right thing shouldn't be so rare that it's a news story."

Silence ensues as she ponders his words. "I suppose I wish you were right. That people were just that innately good. But they aren't."

And she doesn't miss the way his voice gets determined and deep, even as his eyes land on the far wall, "but they could be."

—-

She and Barnes cover the trial of Senator Schmidt and their jaws drop when he's pronounced "not guilty" on all accounts.

The press goes ballistic with the unexpected verdict and they rush to the press room where Schmidt stands behind a podium, answering questions.

Someone from one of the smaller newspapers shouts, "what are you going to do now that you've been acquitted?"

Schmidt leans down into the microphones and stares directly into the cameras, "I'm going to find the law-breaking, villainous attacker who attempted to sully my name, and I'm going to bring him to justice!"

"How will you find him?"

And then, she sees Bucky frown as Schmidt's smile gets inhumanly wide, "let me make this perfectly clear. The man who attacked me may think I don't know anything about him. But he's wrong. I have my ways to smoke out a rat and he'll wish he's never crossed paths with me."

He waves off the rest of the questions and disappears behind the door.

She turns to Barnes and their eyes have the same look.

"It's going to hit the fan."

She nods in agreement as they stare at the now empty podium.

—-

*A/N - This will be a 2 part fic! Hope you enjoy!