What up peeps?!

Firstly, virtual cookies must be awarded to Snoweylily and NOTagentsofnothing420 (love the username) for giving such lovely reviews! *hands each one a box of cookies* Enjoy! :P

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Heads up, this is most definitely the LONGEST chapter I have EVER written, so enjoy guys!

And that's where Steve found me when he came back, me beating the life (metaphorically) out of another punching bag. At least I was smart enough to stay away from any sharp, breakable things this time. On the other hand (literally) my knuckles were red, raw and in some cases, bleeding. I must have been punching it hard then. I barely noticed him come in at first.

Steve took one look at all this and then, without a word escaping his lips, calmly strode over to me and stood directly behind me. I didn't take any notice until I felt myself being lifted from the ground by my elbows and steered away from the punching bag, before he sat me down on my bed. I was still trembling with uncontrollable anger, the tears streaks still clear on my face. Still not talking, he grabbed a large bowl and a cloth from the worktop that I never noticed before (probably because it never was there before; quick thinking on Jarvis's part, I presumed) and filled the bowl with water from the sink. He came back and balanced the bowl on my lap before kneeling in front of me and carefully dipping one of my shaking, bleeding hands into the bowl. It stung. I stopped trembling, realising what an idiot I was making of myself and I was annoyed when the angry tears made a second appearance and spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them away with my hand.

"The serum will take care of that," Steve said quietly, wrapping my knuckles in a soft cloth and starting on the other hand, "You must have been hitting it hard." I stayed silent, only nodding my head.

When he was finished, he took the bowl and washed it out at the sink. I sat quietly, not looking at him. He walked back to the bed and sat down beside me. "Thanks," I said after a while.

"You can tell me what's bothering you, you know," he said softly, wiping away another tear that was sliding down my cheek. I sucked in air and willed myself to stop crying. It was quiet for another few minutes, before he said, "So you're sure you don't want to tell me why that poor punching bag over there is about to fall apart?"

I gave him a small smile. "Curious much?"

"I just don't like being left in the dark," he said sighing, "Everyone in the tower seems to know exactly who you are, except me. And I'm already behind because of spending seventy years under lots of ice, and I'd rather not add that to the pile of things I have to catch up on. Please?" he begged.

I sighed. "I'm a good listener," he hinted.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time. Besides," he laughed, "how bad can it be?"

I gave him a look.

"... That bad, huh?"

I nodded, then, realising that he wasn't going anywhere, I sighed in defeat. "Get comfortable, because you're going to be here for awhile."

He sat back against the wall, folded his arms and faced me. "Yes, ma'am."

I rolled my eyes, before looking down at my hands nervously. Why was it so much easier to say all of this to Natasha?

"Chrissie?" Steve said softly, hinting me to go on.

I took a deep breath and began.

"I'm going to start at the beginning, so bear with me, okay? It's going to take a while." He nodded in response, giving me his full attention.

"Ever since I was a baby, my parents had moved around a lot. We never stayed anywhere for over six months, though a lot of the time, we only stayed for about a month or so before moving on. I was born in Cambridge, in England and that's where I got my accent from," I smiled ruefully.

"Anyway, every time we moved, we changed our names. I never understood why, and neither of my parents ever explained it to me, so I think from what Director Fury has told me, they were in the Witness Protection Programme.

"When I was nine, we moved to Miami in Florida, and my parents enrolled me in the local middle school. I had been home schooled by my mom up to that point; she was a surprisingly good teacher, actually," I smiled, "but I had never been around kids my own age much. I was quite ahead for my age, so I was put in the fifth grade instead of the forth. That's how I first met Tony Stark." I glanced at Steve. His face was composed, but his eyes were alight with curiosity. "I didn't really notice it at first; I was always very outgoing and happy as a kid, kind of oblivious to the world around me. But even I couldn't miss it after a while. I was pushed in the halls, no one would talk to me at lunch, and rumours would fly around about me. I had no doubt who was behind it. I asked Tony what his problem was, and that's when things got really physical," I swallowed hard, remembering the unpleasant memories I had tried so hard for so long to forget, yet seemed to be permanently etched into my brain, "Every afternoon from then on, after school, I would be cornered by his gang and beaten up, usually in front of a crowd. The bigger the better," I grimaced, "I didn't take it lying down though. I fought back. And when I was beaten up too much to put up a fight physically, I started shouting at him, trying to get under his skin. It worked a lot of the time, but that only made them hit me harder. If I just stayed quiet and let them hit me, it would be finished faster.

"Even though I knew most of the people in the crowd, no one stuck up for me. Bruce, Clint, no one."

He interrupted me then. "Hold on," he said, as if he was trying to grasp an impossible fact, "You, Bruce, Tony and Clint all went to the same school?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He frowned. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Nothing, it's just...," he trailed off.

"What?"

"They didn't seem to know each other at all when this initiative started. They were like strangers."

I cocked my head thoughtfully. "I suppose they were. It was a big school, and Tony was very popular. Everyone knew who he was, but he didn't know everyone. And it was a long time ago." I explained.

He nodded, trying to let the information sink in. "Is this too much for you?" I asked anxiously, "I can stop-"

"No, no," he said hurriedly, "Just give me a second."

I nodded, but by the time I was finished he said, "Right, so you were saying, no one stood up for you."

"Right," I nodded, remembering where I was, "No one could, because Tony had the power to make your life hell, like he was doing to me." I heard him mutter "bunch of cowards" under his breath, but I continued on, "I couldn't tell my parents. I knew they would be ashamed of me for not being able to stand up for myself. Not that they'd ever tell me, but I knew I wouldn't be able to stand seeing the disappointment in their eyes. There was no one I could tell," I swallowed hard, "But one day, I got lucky. Every afternoon, when I got home, I would sit outside my next door neighbour's house and try to think of a new excuse to explain the new bruises to my parents. I didn't even realise she had seen and heard me every day when I would sit and mutter to myself on the other side of her wall. One day she let me in to her house. She cleaned me up and promised not to tell anyone unless I wanted her to. Slowly I opened up to her, and she did the same to me. She was an old lady, and I had seen her name on her mail when we had moved to Miami first, and that was my name for that move. So every day she would clean me up after school, and give me a glass of milk and a cookie," I smiled, "She did this, every weekday, for three months. Her husband and children had died in a car crash thirty years before that, and she survived. She told me about her army days for World War Two, how it took her so long to move up the ranks in the army, and how eventually she was shipped out from England to America to help train super soldiers. She worked with Howard Stark, Tony's dad, back then and-" I felt Steve tense beside me so I quickly moved on, "Anyway, one beating up was really bad. I ended up coughing up blood after it and a broken rib had punctured my lung. I guess I had pushed Tony too far that time. I staggered home, thanking God that we lived so close to the school, but I forgot to go to Peggy's," I heard Steve inhale sharply, "and a gunman, the man who had shot my parents, shot me in the leg. An ambulance was called by someone and I woke up in a hospital to find out that my parents were dead and I had a long and painful road of recovery ahead of me. I managed to escape the hospital when they told me I was going to be sent to an adoption home, to Vancouver in Canada where a friend of my dad's lived. I got lost, and I was sitting on a bench, trying to stem the bleeding of my newly reopened gunshot wound, when Alex's parents found me."

"Alex?" he questioned.

"She's practically my sister now," I explained. "Her parents, Marie and Dave took me in an adopted me and we've been inseparable ever since."

"Wow," he said after a long silence.

"Yeah," I agreed, "and now I'm stuck here."

"You could join the Avengers-" I glared at him, "or not," he amended quickly.

"I'm not a superhero, Steve," I sighed, "I'm just a normal, ordinary person."

Steve grinned at that. "You are anything but ordinary, Chrissie."

For some reason, this made me blush and I looked down at my hands. I played the conversation back over in my head. Something didn't add up...

And then it clicked.

I froze. "Chrissie?" Steve called uncertainly but I didn't hear him. It was so obvious! Steve mistaking me for someone called Peggy, his reaction to when I talked about Peggy training the super soldiers, her working with Howard...

My mind flashed back to the time when Peggy was telling me about the super soldiers. "There was only ever one," she had said, "because the remaining serum was destroyed and the creator was killed by a Nazis science division called Hydra. The super soldier was called Captain America," she had smiled at the memory, then got up, "but he was killed when his plane crashed somewhere in Alaska. Howard spent his entire life searching..." she had trailed off, rummaging through a drawer, "Here's what he looked like before the serum was injected," she had said before passing the picture to me, "He was quite handsome, don't you think?" I had nodded in response. "Very handsome," I had agreed solemnly and we both giggled.

I struggled to remember what the face in the picture had looked like, gasping when I did, only to be snapped out of my thoughts by the same Captain America from the picture, just with a little more muscles, who had been sitting next to me, but was now gripping my shoulders tightly. I clutched his arm. "Steve," I said in a low, frantic whisper that only he could hear, "Is that a one way window?" I asked, nodding towards the mirror that stretched across one wall. He gave a tiny nod. "And is there someone on the other side of that window watching us right now?"

Another nod.

"Steve, I need you to distract them from me. Get them away from where they can see me. Jarvis?" I whispered quietly. Jarvis beeped in response. "Can I have access to a computer?" He beeped again. "Does that mean yes?" I asked Steve. He nodded. "Can we be heard?" I asked Steve anxiously.

He shook his head. "Completely soundproof."

"Good. Now go."

"Why?"

"I-" I faltered, "I can't tell you."

"And why is that?"

"Because... because I don't want to get your hopes up by telling you."

He planted both feet firmly on the ground and folded his arms, clearly not planning on moving until I gave him a more reliable answer. I sighed, then stood on my tiptoes (I still wasn't tall enough to reach, so he bent down), "I'm going to try to find her. To find Peggy. The Peggy you and I both know."

He stopped breathing for exactly three seconds, then regained control of himself and darted out of the room. I counted to thirty slowly. "Jarvis?" I looked up at the ceiling.

"Turn around Chrissie."

I turned around, and a sleek, thin laptop was resting on the table. "And this will tell me where anyone in the world is right now?"

"One hundred percent guaranteed, Chrissie," Jarvis replied.

I took a deep breath, opened the computer and typed in,

"Agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter."

Peace out!

-kates the firework