Moments


A/N: I originally had like only 6 plot ideas for this series when I first started, now 40 chapters later... ; D

But if you want to read more Cartson one-shots and are sad to see this end, I bring tidings of great joy - I have a few plots already in mind for Scenarios. So stay tuned.

Anywho, for our final feature presentation...


Previously on Agent Carter: Moments…

Their interrogator glanced down and gleefully read again the inscription on the carefully preserved and formerly thought to be well-hidden napkins:

"I vow to only kiss you, even then only when you are S.D.102 free."

"I vow to never kiss any man, but you, Sweet Dreams free."


Mementos:

The Epilogue


Spring 1988

"Where did you find those, sweet pea?"

Jack curiously asked their 14 year-old granddaughter as she gleefully stared down at The Napkins and re-read their incriminating inscriptions.

With a too-casual, nonchalant shrug, she answered, "Behind your marriage license."

Jack's eyes narrowed, "And your sudden interest in our legal documents was…?"

Noticing Ruth's slight anxious shifting, Peggy interjected and chidingly rebuked, "Good lord, Jack! This isn't an interrogation."

Jack shot his favorite (and only, so far) granddaughter a sheepish look, while mutinously muttering under his breath, "Oh yeah? Where have you been the last half hour or so?"

Peggy rolled her eyes at this, but was pleased to see her granddaughter relax. She even giggled a little, before answering Jack's question. "It's for school. We have to do a presentation on the lives of our heroes."

Jack, being Jack, was predictably mollified by this blatant stroking of his ego and puffed out his chest. She, however, was slightly alarmed and felt the need to caution: "Well, that's very sweet of you, darling, and as exciting as it would be to tell your class about our adventures as agents, most of what your grandfather told you, especially that bit about Ms. Underwood is still classified."

At Ruth's look of disappointment (including sad wide brown eyes), Jack caved.

"Your Mum-Mum is right, I suppose, like she usually is. But… if you are wanting a few good tales, human interest pieces as it were, there is a tackle-box in the garage marked with a 'M'."

At his words, Ruth's demeanor radically changed. Her hazel eyes brightened to amber as she beamed happily at him before bolting out of her chair and straight to the garage, her coltish limbs narrowly missing the lamp on the side table as she sped on by.

As soon as she was out of ear shot, Peggy teased, "Sucker."

Jack unabashedly shrugged, stating slyly, "What can I say? I have a type."

Peggy arched an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Yeah, pretty ladies with big brown eyes," was his taunting reply, which was accompanied by his trademark smirk.

Much to her annoyance, she not only rolled her eyes again, but she also blushed. Even after all these years, her husband still had that kind of effect on her.

She was saved from his gloating comment to that effect by Ruth re-entering the room, lugging in with her the 'M' labeled tackle-box.

As soon as she set it on the coffee table, she popped open the latch and threw the lid open as eagerly as a pirate would a treasure chest. Peggy was unable to resist her curiosity and peered over Ruth's shoulders to see what was inside.

When she saw its myriad and assorted contents, she could not help but huff, "Oh, you are a sentimental fool."

Jack flashed her an impish grin, his blue eyes dancing with mischief as he cajoled, "But you love me anyways, don't you, Margaret darling?"

Eyes once again flicking down to the contents below, she admitted softly, "I do."

Their granddaughter looked back and forth between them, clearly not understanding the significance of the box's contents, as it must look like junk to her.

Taking pity on her, Jack, with the soft smile that he reserved only for 'his girls', gently instructed, "Go ahead and pick an object and we will tell the story behind it."

Without having to be asked twice, Ruth dove in and began sorting through the various and miscellaneous items, obviously trying to find one with the best tale first.

She shunned the sports memorabilia – a baseball, a signed player's card, a program, and tickets. The last was a pity in Peggy's mind as one of them was stub for the Las Vegas boxing game that they had gone to. That was the night that she and Jack had kissed and made up over a long standing argument about Ethan Grey, and the night that Michael was most likely conceived.

Then again, Ruth might not want to hear about how her uncle came to be.

Instead, she picked out a cheap plastic picture frame that held what looked to be…dried mistletoe.

"This one."

~A~

December 1958

"I am glad you could make it tonight," Mr. Jarvis declared as soon as he reached her side.

She smiled warmly in greeting and teased, "Well with as many hints as you and Anna were dropping, how could we not?"

Howard Stark was throwing one of his many infamous Christmas – well, revelries was the word that came to mind. What made this one special however was that tonight he had also announced to the world that his sweetheart of 6 months (a world record in and of itself) had agreed to marry him.

"He is truly lucky. Maria is one in a million," she noted as she watched the sweet yet vivacious woman skillfully handle all of Howard's smarmy business associates as they offered their congratulations.

From behind her, Jack arrived from his mission of getting more drinks just in time to offer his opinion.

"What I just can't decide is if that means she is a one in a million saint or a masochist."

Her instinctive response was to reach back and elbow him chidingly in the gut, but that particular move of hers must have become predictable because he nimbly dodged her and reached over to hand Jarvis the flutes of champagne he was holding.

Jarvis took them automatically, even while he was sputtering his protests, "How many times…Not the butler…'Executive Assistant' now…kindly remember, Mr. Thompson."

Peggy too was protesting, sighing exasperatedly, "Really, Jack?"

Jack grinned, "Really, Marge," and then with his now free hands, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her soundly.

~A~

Spring 1988

"Ah! That was the mistletoe that I finally got to kiss your grandmother under. It took me ten years, but I finally managed it," Jack declared happily and more than a bit smugly.

"Managed it?" she scoffed. "You got lucky that Jarvis and I were standing there in its vicinity. And Howard's announcement distracted me."

"Hmm… we'll just have to agree to disagree on that one," he asserted, his pride in his 'accomplishment' un-deflated. To Ruth, he said, "What's the next one, Poppet?"

Ruth reached in and chose a worn and faded poker chip.

Peggy squinted at it curiously from behind her now necessary bifocals and asked after a few moments, "Is that Fisher's?"

"Yep, from when we first became official S.S.R. partners in New York, and I knew that I was a goner. And not just because you ambushed me in the alley."

The smoldering look that he sent her made her heart race and her face warm – symptoms which only got worse when Ruth next pulled out: The Red Feather.

"That is from a Halloween party we went to while in London, setting up a S.H.I.E.L.D. branch office," Jack explained matter-of-factly, and then his smirk, which can only be classified now as a fond leer, was spreading across his face as he added, "I went dressed as Yankee Doodle Dandy in honor of always being referred to by everyone there as your Mum-Mum's 'Yank husband'."

Fortunately, Ruth's gaze was fixed on her and she missed her grandfather's sly smirk. The rest of the tale of the feather's significance was not appropriate for a young girl's ears.

"What did you wear, Mum-Mum?" she asked quizzically.

"A cowgirl costume, I believe."

Jack's blue eyes lit with mischief as he leaned down and whispered conspiratorially in Ruth's ear, "And believe you me, she looked darn cute in her little boots with spurs. She even had a lasso rope that she tied me up with for fun later."

Before Ruth could ask 'why would that be fun?' or ask why her grandmother looked so flushed, Peggy reached into the tackle-box and pulled out something at random.

At first, Ruth didn't look as if she was going to take the bait, but as soon as her eyes lit upon her mother's name – Ellie Thompson, she became much more interested.

"Why do you have a school report card of my mom's in here?"

"Ah… if you read further, you will notice that this is no ordinary report card, my dear," Jack enthused dramatically, "But a disciplinary card – your mother's first."

Sure enough, Mr. Douglas Donavan, the principal of Ellie's middle school at the time had expressed his shock and 'disappointment' that their daughter had such violent tendencies, telling of how she had given one boy a black eye and another a 'very sore groin'.

"And this made you proud because…?" their granddaughter asked, obviously not entirely believing the smug grin he wore on his face.

"It proved that she could defend herself," Peggy supplied.

"And in so doing, she proved that she was her mother's child," Jack added. "A fact that your Great-Gran loved to point out."

Oh, how Amanda Carter loved to crow at the fact that Peggy had a daughter 'just like her'. When Ruth came along, Peggy herself had kind of hoped to get her revenge on Ellie, but the powers-that-be had been merciful towards her daughter and Ruth had taken instead after her father, quiet and studious Jeremy Sousa.

In point of fact, instead of asking for more details about her mother's fight, she moved onto yet another memento and selected...

A tarot card.

~A~

May 1952

"What in God's green earth are you wearing, Angie Martinelli?"

It was probably very rude of her to ask this of her guest first thing in the morning, but she hadn't had any caffeine yet and her friend really was wearing the most outlandish costume.

She wore a sky blue peasant blouse and a red peasant skirt, and she had accessorized it with over a dozen multi-colored bangle bracelets on both her arms, a red-and-blue bandana scarf in her hair, tying her for once untamed curls back, and large brass hoop earrings dangled from her ears.

Angie didn't take offense at her rudeness, but did at her question, asking with a slight pout, "What? Is it not obvious?"

Jack, who was standing at the kitchen counter sipping away at his source of caffeine, offered his guess, "You're a gypsy because…you are auditioning for Esmeralda in Hunchback of Notre Dame?"

Both she and Angie stared at her usually classics-challenged husband in disbelief.

"What? I read," he protested.

Before she could reply to that, Angie interjected, "Yes and no. I am a gypsy, but I am auditioning for a part as a fortune teller, not a street dancer." Shuffling the tarot deck that had been on the table in front of her to emphasize her point, she added eagerly, "And because you were so close, I am going to let you be the first I read for."

Jack again surprised her by shrugging and saying, "Okay, I'll bite."

As soon as he sat down, Angie began her little show – shuffling the cards and having Jack pick four. Peggy would have enjoyed watching this production, but she really needed some tea. The smell of Jack's coffee was making her stomach queasy, and so was the thought of having to interview that vile Zola man again later today.

She did however listen with half an ear as her friend went about her 'reading'.

"This first card is the Four of Wands. It indicates that you have had a significant milestone celebration that has bearing on the present."

"Well, if it is a milestone celebration, wouldn't it be significant?"

Ignoring him, Angie continued, "The next card is the Page of Cups. It signifies creative energy and often heralds good news, which seems likely in conjunction with the Ace of Cups here, your third card. You, Jack, are going to be offered the opportunity for some fulfillment."

"Look, Marge, my cup overflows," Jack called out, waving the card that depicted a hand holding a chalice with five overflowing streams.

Peggy sat down at the table next to him and dryly retorted, "Not surprising considering how often I have to clean the kitchen counters of coffee rings. I would count it a blessing if your cup was for once was less than full."

Angie made an annoyed sound at their domestic interruption, so she hastily mumbled, "Sorry, Madame Martinelli. Do continue."

She did, flipping over the last card with a dramatic flourish to reveal…

"Ooh, the Empress."

"What? Is she the woman who is going to take away all my good fortune if I am not too careful?" Jack asked skeptically.

"Oh no, while she is an impressive lady with her scepter and shield, you have nothing to fear from her. She is not reversed," Angie reassured.

"Reversed?"

"Yes, if it had been facing the other way, it would have indicated a block to your creative energy, but it's not. And in conjunction with these three others…Hmmm…"

"So all four cards mean what?" Jack prompted, barely able to hide his smirk at her friend's dramatic pause.

"It means that within one year, you are going to be a father."

As soon as the words left "Madame Martinelli's" lips, Peggy felt her face drain of all blood and her right hand automatically mirroring that of the woman's on the card, which was hovering protectively over a well-rounded stomach.

Hers wasn't 'well-rounded' but if she were interpreting all of her symptoms correctly, it would be in … "Oh damn."

At her words, Jack quit his teasing of Angie (he had been pompously giving her recommendations to make her audition reading be 'more doom and gloom as Hollywood showbiz loves that stuff'), and turned to look at Peggy.

"Marge, are you alright?"

She took a deep steadying breath and then while a slow smile spread across her still pale face, she answered, "I expect I will be in eight or nine months or so."

Jack stared at her flabbergasted. For once her man of quick wit and suave words was speechless.

Angie, however, was not. Glancing back and forth between them, she exclaimed gleefully, "Damn. Am I good or what?"

This seemed to be the prodding he needed, because in one moment he was sitting there frozen in shock, and then the next, he was removing the tea cup from her death-grip so that he could safely draw her into his arms and whisper softly into her ear:

"No, she's the best."

~A~

Spring 1988

"And a little less than nine months later, your mom Ellie was born."

"How come I have never heard that story before?"

"Because it is not as entertaining as when Grandpa Sousa learned he was going to be a daddy," Jack defended with a chortle.

Ruth had no argument to that as the poor man had fainted, falling into Howard Stark's pool, and needed to be given the 'kiss of life' by none other than Jack Thompson, who never let him forget.

Instead, she asked, "Did Auntie Angie get the part?"

"No, according to her, they had already cast the part but were using the audition as a 'contract negotiating tactic' or something of the sort, I think," Peggy answered with a shrug.

Ruth shrugged too, muttering something along the lines of "Hollywood showbiz", before diving back into the tackle-box and pulling out … a singed swatch of cloth.

Peggy froze staring at that poor scrap of material and feeling quite uncertain as to how she should react. For she knew what significance she attached to this particular memento, but she did not know what Jack did and she was almost afraid to find out.

She glanced at Jack and saw that slow sly smirk of his spreading across his face to the point of downright smugness, especially when his own assessing glance took note of her blush.

"That is from our first couch," he explained to their granddaughter, almost blandly, but then with far more significance but not quite a leer, he added, "I have a lot of fond memories attached to that couch."

Peggy did too. And this was yet another one of his memory-lane talismans that had far too many not-fit-for-her-young-ears'-memories attached to it, so she interjected tartly, "You were fond of being exiled to the couch, were you?"

Seeing where she was going with this, Jack played along even while his blue eyes twinkled roguishly. "Not fond of it, no." And because he gave as good as he got, he retorted, "But I seem to remember choosing to come out here half the time due to your snoring."

"Snoring! Me?" she huffed in outrage.

Just as Jack was going to dig himself further into a hole, Ruth saved him by asking, "But why is it burnt?"

"Well, in a fit of pique your Mum-Mum dragged it out into our backyard and set it on fire."

At that lovely revelation, Ruth's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open in almost cartoon-ish astonishment. With that one sentence, the man completely destroyed her dignified image in their granddaughter's eyes forever. Wonderful.

"Did I? I don't recall."

It was a very poor dodge on her part, which was not at all helped along by her fiddling with her cup of tea, but it was the best she could manage.

Ruth, the perceptive and kind child, did not press her further but looked questioningly to Jack for more details.

He of course obliged, stating, "Yes, she did. When an old chum of mine came to visit, he let drop that the sofa his parents had gifted us for our wedding was the same one they had had when I was in high school just re-upholstered."

"And why was that a bad thing?"

Not trusting Jack to be fully honest in his explanation, she blurted wryly, "He also had fond memories attached to it with his friend's sister, who was his once-upon-a-time high school sweetheart."

The dear sweet teenager seemed to accept this as adequate justification for her overdramatic fit of jealousy, if her pursed mouth and little nod was anything to go by. Her piercing brown gaze seemed to be asking her grandfather how he dared to have any sort of fond memories of anyone other than her Mum-Mum.

Jack, of course, acted as if he did not see the unspoken question, concluding with an unapologetic shrug, "A day after my friend left was the sofa-kindled backyard bonfire, and four days after that we had a new sofa." (They might have gotten one sooner, if Jack had not been so determined to keep her in bed all weekend in order to convince her just how much he loved her; his pride in that accomplishment may be one of the many reasons he was so fond of that couch.) "And that lasted until about 6 months later with the…" He looked quizzically over to her and asked, "…Schindleman case?"

"Schmidt."

"Yeah, Schmidt case, where they came and slashed up all our furniture looking for – "

"Ahem."

"Oh never-mind," he sighed resignedly. "That's definitely still classified."

Looking both mildly intrigued and more than a little disappointed, Ruth returned to the tackle-box and pulled out a clip-on maroon bowtie.

"Is this connected to anything classified?"

Jack reached over and took it from her, apparently needing the tactile contact to remember. When he did, his eyes lit up again as he merrily recalled, "Oh, that is from the night of your uncle's first school dance when he asked me how it was that I knew your Mum-Mum was 'The One'."

"Well, you must not have done a very good job explaining," Peggy scoffed, "because I lost count how many 'the ones' that boy introduced to us over the years…"

And so their trip down memory lane went.

~A~

A middle-school classroom, the following week…

"My heroes are my grandparents. Partly because they fought in wars and since then have fought to prevent wars, but mostly because they have fought to and succeeded in keeping their love alive, even nearly 50 years later…"

Ruth concluded her show-and-tell presentation, locking eyes with one set of brown and one set of blue, each shining with pride – and not at all with tears (hah!), as she said:

"Their love story is not a heroic tale in that they are star-crossed lovers who meet a tragic end, nor is it because she is a princess in need of constant rescue by her knight in shining armor. No, it is because it is filled with a lifetime of cherished moments like these.

"For that reason, when I grow up, I want to have a story just like theirs."

~A~

'You think I don't know why, Oh but I do

I know that it's you that I love.'