Greetings everyone and welcome back for chapter 6. We're moving steadily along here, and I'm still guesstimating the length of this story to be near the higher end of the range of 10-15 chapters total. Which would mean that this is nearing the half-way mark. Whoo! Thanks to all of you readers, you undoubtedly know how awesome you are, especially those of you who have stuck with me through my other stories as well.

Right so in this chapter we finally get away from Clint for a bit in the second half, which is shocking to me, personally. We get some Steve. Which is good, because I like Steve and I haven't shoved him into the spotlight in this story very much, so here's some of that.

I hope you enjoy it, and fair warning, you may need a tissue or two. The angst level in this chapter rose exponentially. Don't ask me how that happened.

As always, I own nothing.

Clint sighed as he stopped in front of the briefing room Fury typically used for meetings with the Council. It had just been last night that he'd actually gone in for the extraction of Napier, Akers and Lewis, and already the Council was demanding to speak with him to discuss his actions. Fury had actually sounded apologetic when he had called, but that didn't serve to lighten the archer's mood at all. Natasha hadn't exactly been happy about it either, but they both knew that the Council wasn't a group to be played with. They had power, even over Fury's head if they really pushed, so it was best to just get the meeting out of the way and done with.

So, despite the fact that his shoulder was definitely feeling like it had been stabbed, he'd gotten on the helicopter Fury had sent to pick him up without complaint, and ignoring Tony's playful shout that at least he wasn't taking his quiver with him that time. He had, however, smirked at the sound of someone, probably either Natasha or Pepper smacking him in response.

Currently, he just pushed the door open at Fury's call to enter, smoothing his expression into a blank, emotionless indifference as he did. He walked over to stand slightly behind Fury to the man's left, in front of the wall-sized screen that was currently displaying the faces of the four Council members.

'Agent Barton, we were wondering if you could walk us through what happened last night during your mission.' the older man that was probably the American delegate said sharply, cutting straight to the point of why he was there. One thing Clint couldn't accuse them of was beating around the bush.

"I gave my report sir, as did Agents Napier and Lewis." Clint responded smoothly, not at all wanting to just roll over and make it easy on them. They'd probably know something was up if he did.

'We're aware of the reports, Agent, but given your track record we just wanted to affirm what went on.' the only woman on the Council spoke up then, and Clint turned his eyes to her but gave no other facial reaction to her words.

"By my track record, you mean the fact that I prefer to bring home live agents as opposed to dead ones." he said tonelessly, giving no response to the scowls that formed on a few faces before he continued. "Unless you are accusing all of us of lying in our reports, Councilmen, all due respect but I don't see why I'm here."

'Agent Barton, could you just walk us through your mission.' the Russian looking man spoke up crossly, and Clint glanced to him as well before speaking.

Clint did so, using the subtlest condescending tone he could manage. He recited almost exactly word for word what was in his report; that he found Napier in the process of being water boarded, that he used explosive arrows on the hallway and subsequent men pursuing them before they got up to the roof and grappled to an adjoining building without encountering any problems.

Even so, they continued to ask question after question, all pretty much trying to make him admit he'd broken protocol. One thing he'd always been alright at, and then perfected with Natasha's help, however, was weaving his way through a conversation and admitting nothing. The entire time, his expression and tone of voice were unchanging and he could see at least the older white-haired man was looking frustrated. The others were either too good at hiding it, or they just honestly didn't care. Clint was leaning towards the first one.

By the time they were done, even Fury was wearing a smug smirk as he shut down the call before waving Clint out of the room. The archer followed easily, flanking him on the right and listening as he spoke.

"I knew you'd pick up on what I was doing, Barton, but did you have to advertise it in front of three of my other agents?" the SHIELD director demanded quietly as they walked, making Clint give a tight smirk.

"Sorry, sir." he said simply, not at all looking or feeling it, making Fury give an aggravated huff as he turned a corner, making Clint frown. "Why are we headed to the medical wing?"

"Because Napier, Akers and Lewis asked to speak with you when I got you back on base." the older man informed him shortly, and Clint didn't acknowledge the words in any way, choosing to simply follow for a few moments before he voiced a question.

"Akers' condition?"

"Stable now. He needed a blood transfusion and a heavy dose of very strong antibiotics, but he'll live." Fury informed him matter of factly and Clint nodded acceptance.

In only a few moments they were stopping outside an infirmary room door that was propped open, Fury pausing outside and gesturing Clint in. The archer gave him a slight, withering glare before he rapped twice on the metal door before stepping inside, not surprised by what he saw.

Akers was in the room's bed, looking conscious but barely. Napier and Lewis were seated on his either side, both looking weary, though Napier's shirt bulged as if covering bandages that wound around his torso. Considering Clint remembered something about broken ribs from the man, that wasn't surprising.

All three pairs of eyes shot to him as he entered, both Napier and Lewis straightening in their seats.

"Hawkeye." Napier greeted with a slight nod, a small frown forming on his face.

Clint gave a slight blink and paused only a few steps inside the doorway, shocked at the older man's greeting. Napier had never once called him 'Hawkeye'. That was a level of respect and recognition that he'd never received from him before, and the fact that he was getting it now was honestly amusing.

"Oh, so I'm Hawkeye now?" he asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. Now that they weren't involved in a life or death situation, he would allow himself to be a little less accepting of three of the men that had beaten him into unconsciousness more than once. "How are the ribs? Hurt like a bitch, don't they?"

Napier had the decency to give a guilty wince at that, while both Lewis and Akers shared uneasy, almost ashamed glances.

"You're not going to just let me get out a thank you and be done with it, are you?" Napier asked sounding unsurprised but somewhat resigned, and Clint just crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the pull and pain from his stitches and shoulder.

"No." Clint said truthfully, his eyes narrowing. "What, I save your asses, and we get all chummy? Before last night, you hadn't said one word to me since holding a knife to my throat. You and your little group spent weeks hunting me down and beating me to hell, Napier. I had enough guilt for myself without you bastards drilling it in to me."

"What do you want, Barton, an apology?" Napier asked shortly, but there was a distinct lack of anger or aggravation in his voice. Clint just scoffed disbelievingly.

"Hell no, because you wouldn't even have entertained the idea without what happened last night." he said, not an ounce of doubt in his voice, and not one of the three made to disagree with him.

"So then why even do it?" Napier demanded after a few moments of tense silence, standing and moving a few steps closer to Clint, who didn't so much as twitch. "Why go through the trouble of breaking protocol, getting stabbed in the shoulder and getting us out of there?"

"First off, I just spent an hour getting reamed by the Council and telling them that I didn't break protocol, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your damn voice down." Clint said in a low voice, an almost dangerous tone entering it. He knew Fury was still waiting outside the door. "And secondly, because I had a mission, and I wasn't going to let a personal issue get in the way of that."

There was silence for a few long moments, Clint stubbornly holding Napier's gaze before he flicked his eyes to the other two agents in the room and spoke again.

"You're welcome. But I don't want to listen to it." he said coolly before turning and leaving the infirmary room without another word, only to almost instantly catch Fury's glare, which made him give a silent, aggravated sigh.

"You're injured?" the SHIELD director demanded quietly as they walked away, this time Clint leading as he made for the airstrip.

"Do I look injured to you, sir?" he retorted tonelessly, which just made Fury scowl.

"Barton, I wouldn't be able to tell unless it was something life threatening." he pointed out, clearly unhappy, and the archer snorted, knowing the man was speaking from experience. He cast a quick look to his right to him as he continued, trying a different tactic. "Is it anything I need to keep your name off of possible missions for?"

For a few beats Clint didn't respond, quickly considering the injury and how long it would take to heal before he could fire his bow with his typical speed and precision without the possibility of the muscles giving out on him. He didn't really like admitting anything to Fury, but he didn't like the possibility of messing up on a mission more.

"Not for more than a week."

Fury nodded to that and walked the rest of the way to the helicopter with him, stopping him before he could actually get into the vehicle and handing him one of the files he'd been carrying since they'd left the Council meeting.

"This is for Captain Rogers. See that he gets it." the director said matter of factly and Clint nodded, taking it easily.

"Yes, sir." he responded as he climbed into the helicopter and quickly informed the pilot he was ready to go.

During the flight, he looked down at the file in curiosity, wondering why Fury wanted Steve to have what looked like his own file, but he respected the Captain's privacy and didn't open it. Back at Stark's mansion, he passed the file onto a bemused Steve before practically leaping onto the back of a couch and joining the video game match Tony had started between him and Thor with a smirk.

Much later that night, Tony was in the middle of pouring two cups of coffee and grabbing a few slices of cold pizza for him and Bruce when JARVIS' voice interrupted him.

'Sir, I might advise checking on Captain Rogers in the training room before you go back down to the lab.' the AI said, managing a tone that Tony recognized to mean he was concerned.

"What's the matter, he finally agree to go up against Romanoff?" Tony asked with a snort, only to pause slightly when JARVIS continued.

'No sir, Agent Romanoff is currently on the roof with Agent Barton. Captain Rogers has gone through half of the mansions stock of punching bags in the past hour, and I believe something may be bothering him.'

The billionaire did give a slow blink at that, before his eyes narrowed.

"JARVIS, there were like fifty punching bags in the storage closet." he pointed out, and the AI adopted a more exasperated tone.

'Yes, sir, there were.' he agreed, and unbidden a small frown formed on Tony's face as concern bubbled up in him.

Even for Rogers, twenty-five punching bags in an hour was a little extreme. Not that he cared of course; it was none of his business if the Captain was having a bad night. They all had them occasionally.

But despite that reasoning in mind, Tony still felt his feet direct him towards the gym, and only moments later he was lightly pushing the door open, his eyes widening at the sight of what could very well be a pile of twenty-five destroyed punching bags and the sand that used to be in them beneath the high windows of the room. Steve was situated a few feet in front of the pile, his back to Tony as he laid into another punching bag that was hanging in front of him. He was sweating, out of breath, and his T-shirt was all but sticking to him.

"Looks like you needed one hell of a workout." Tony spoke up conversationally, smoothing his expression and raising one eyebrow as Steve spun to face him, startled by his presence. "I mean really. There's no way glorified sand bags could have pissed you off that badly."

The other man's eyes darkened, and Tony half considered taking a few steps back towards the door again with the intensity of that look, but stopped himself as Steve turned back to the bag hanging in front of him.

"I'm not in the mood, Stark." he said tersely, but Tony just slowly approached, almost wary, but hiding it well.

"What's the matter?" the billionaire pressed over the sound of the Captain's fists against the canvas bag, the chain holding it up creaking in protest.

"Why do you care?" Steve retorted as a grunt, and Tony frowned, still not completely sure what had drawn him to follow JARVIS' advice in the first place.

"Not much gets under your star-spangled spandex, Capsicle." he said pointedly, his frown deepening when Steve flinched at his words, and his next blow sent the abused bag flying back into the others.

Without a word, the Captain turned to grab another, but Tony just quickly cleared the space between them and grabbed the other man's shoulder.

"Steve. What the hell?" the billionaire asked firmly, eyes narrowed into concern.

Steve's eyes flashed and he stiffened defensively, jerking his shoulder out of Tony's grip but relaxing slightly when he met the other man's gaze.

"I was looking through the file Clint brought back for me from Fury. I found this." he admitted gruffly, carefully moving to pick up a sheet of paper that had been set to the side on a chair and handing it to Tony. He then proceeded to lift up another punching bag.

Tony raised an eyebrow but looked down to the paper, eyes widening when he recognized the handwriting. He almost didn't want to read what was written, knowing that it had only ever been meant for one pair of eyes, and it certainly wasn't his. He did, after all, have some semblance of a respect for privacy.

But, on the other hand, the Captain had given it to him, and without reading it, he had absolutely no idea what to say. So he did.

Steve,

I waited for hours, until well after closing, praying that you would walk through the door with that triumphant smirk on your face and apologizing for being late like you did after Austria. And even though you didn't then, I never gave up hope. It's been almost seventy years now, I'm over ninety years old and I'm staring down at you who hasn't aged a day.

I was the first one Nick Fury called after they found you in the ice, but for weeks I couldn't work up the courage to come in. Then I realized, if our situations had been reversed, you would have been at my side without a thought, so here I am. You're not awake yet, and they aren't sure when, or if, you ever will. But I know you Captain, so I know it won't be long.

The world has changed a lot, and I know you're going to have countless new things to get used to. Trust me when I say that not everything is as complicated as it looks. I'm really the only one left, and I know now that I was waiting until I could see you again. You should know that I went to all of their funerals in your stead, as I know you would have wanted to be there.

I never did find another dance partner. Many people told me that I wasn't doing myself any favors by waiting for the dead. I would have preferred to be able to shoot at them, much as I did at you once.

You should also know that Howard tried everything to find you sooner. He did, in fact find the cube that Hydra used as its secret weapon. But as time passed, and his searches yielded nothing, he gave up and lost the hope that I held on to. He became a different man, more driven than ever to never fail at anything again. It was his family that suffered from it.

You'll meet Tony Stark, I'm sure, and it won't take you long to understand that he is not his father. And really, I don't recommend bringing Howard up. The boy is about as stubborn as you, if not more so, and he won't want to talk about his father at all, much less with you. You will see the similarities though, especially in that genius of his. He's become a super hero in his own right, but the walls he puts up around himself won't let him see all the good he does. Don't let that cocky attitude fool you; think of how Bucky acted after you saved him from the Hydra base in Austria. The boy doesn't think he's good enough for anything. And once you've gotten past those walls, which I know very well you will be able to do, I think you'll be able to give him what Howard never did: someone he can make proud; a mentor of sorts and a confidant. And he sorely needs it, not that he'll be in any way accepting of it at first.

I recommended both you and Tony for Nick's 'Avengers Initiative'. You'll need a team to help you through this mess, and I'm completely certain you can lead just about anyone, including this group Nick is putting together. It won't be the same as the Commandos, but they will keep you grounded; give you new purpose. And yes, Captain, I am aware that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

I'm not planning on seeing you wake up. It's selfish of me, I know, but seeing me old and frail as I am now won't do you any good. It's better for you to grieve for all of us at once, than to get me back for a short time only to lose me again. I couldn't do that to you, Steve, not on top of everything else. You'll channel your grief into a focus that will undoubtedly save the world someday.

And since I plan on waiting a very long time before having to see you in whatever comes next, I'll be a little lenient with your compulsive lateness. Then, maybe, we can finally have that dance.

Forever yours,
Peggy

Tony stared at the letter for a long time after he actually finished reading it, at a complete and utter loss of words for the first time in his life. He tried to imagine himself in Steve's shoes, with Pepper in Peggy Carter's, and found that he simply couldn't comprehend it.

"Steve… I'm sorry." he said eventually, his voice quiet and sincere as he looked back up to the Captain in time to see him pause and sigh, lightly resting his forehead on the punching bag in front of him.

"She practically gave me a manual on how to handle you. It's a shame I didn't get it sooner." he said shortly, his voice gruff as he clearly tried not to fall to pieces.

Tony was completely aware that this was probably the last place on earth he wanted to be, neck deep in this emotional vat of a conversation, but how the hell was he supposed to leave Steve looking as broken as he did now?

"You didn't do half bad on your own." the billionaire pointed out quickly, running a hand through his hair, and gently returning the letter to its former spot on the chair.

"You knew her?" Steve asked quietly after a few moments of silence, his breathing slowly returning to a more relaxed pace.

"God, yes." Tony found himself giving an easy, fond smile to the question. "She was like the spit-fire aunt you never wanted to piss off. We lost contact more than I would have liked after my parents died." he explained as he took a seat on the edge of the boxing ring for lack of anything else to do. "One hell of a woman."

"Don't I know it." Steve gave a dry chuckle, practically falling to sit beside Tony. "I loved her."

"Kinda figured." Tony nodded slightly with half a smirk

"Did you know…?" Steve trailed off, nodding to the letter and Tony shifted slightly.

"That she sat with you while you were defrosting? Yes. Every day for almost three weeks. I drove her once or twice when I had business with SHIELD." the billionaire nodded himself, before frowning. "But I didn't know about that letter, I swear. It wouldn't have taken you over six months to get it if I had."

Truth be told, he was pissed that Fury had neglected to give it to the super soldier for so long. He would be having words with the director. Very loud and angry words.

Because Captain America wasn't supposed to look like the devastated and broken man sitting beside him.

"How long before I woke up did she…" Steve trailed off again, his voice giving a very subtle shake, but luckily, Tony didn't need him to finish his question.

"Three days." he said quietly, lowering his gaze at Steve's violent flinch, unused to the emotions crashing through him. It wasn't often that something like this got to him. Maybe in this case it was the fact that while he had gotten the opportunity to spend thirty-odd years with Peggy Carter, Steve had had less than five.

"It was in her sleep; painless. I… I can show you where she's buried when we get back to New York." Tony spoke again after a few long moments of silence.

Steve gave a quick, wordless nod, burying the wrapped heels of his palms into his eyes and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I miss all of them, Tony." he admitted thickly a few moments later.

"I know." the billionaire said lamely, unable to think of anything of a more smart-assed nature to add. As far as he knew, this was the first time the Captain had broken down about his lost life in the 40's, and he hated that he couldn't think of anything better to say to comfort the man beside him. Because despite the playful resentment, and countless arguments he and Steve had, he did respect him; probably more than the super soldier realized. "The rest of us; me, Bruce, Thor, Barton and Romanoff; I know we'll never be the Howling Commandos, and we'll never replace anyone else you lost, but..." he trailed off extremely relieved when Steve picked up his head and gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Thanks, Tony." he said quietly, marveling at how right Peggy had turned out to be about the man beside him. Not that he expected anything less. He sighed again, however, and continued. "You know, I don't even know what happened to them. I tried to search on the computer, but I never really found anything."

"I can take care of that." Tony said quickly with a single short nod, glad to be able to help somehow, which was somewhat surprising. They were silent for a few more moments before the billionaire gave a slight sigh and stood. "Well, I'll let you get back to your workout. Don't worry about the mess, I'll get someone in here tomorrow to clean it up."

"No, I'll get it." Steve stood as well with a slight frown as his gaze found the pile of obliterated punching bags against the wall. "I think I've depleted the supply enough for one night."

"Maybe that's what me and Bruce will work on next…" Tony mused, giving the Captain a nod as he left the gym, and returned to the kitchen.

He dumped out the old coffee and had JARVIS start a new pot, although this time, he only poured one cup, and that was for Bruce. He took it down to the doctor before explaining that he was going to bed and ignoring the slightly suspicious glance that announcement earned him. He gave a slight smile when he slipped noiselessly into his bedroom and saw Pepper curled up already asleep on her side.

Barely thinking about it, Tony crawled under the covers with her before carefully wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

"Tony?" she questioned sleepily, and the billionaire just tightened his grip slightly as she took his hand in hers.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up." he murmured, leaning his head down onto her shoulder. After seeing what Steve was going through, the only thing he wanted to do was hold Pepper and not let her go. Which was probably selfish of him, seeing as the Captain would never get the chance to do the same.

"What's wrong?" Pepper asked, awake enough to hear his tone and be worried about it, turning in his arms to face him and letting the muted glow from the arc reactor light their faces.

Tony gave a slight sigh before quietly relaying the conversation he'd had with the Captain, not sure what else to do. Pepper had had the opportunity to meet Peggy Carter at least once or twice he was sure. By the time he finished speaking, Pepper was gripping his hand tightly, not that he could find it in him to mind at the moment.

"Poor Steve." she murmured, giving her head a slight shake and meeting Tony's gaze. "I couldn't imagine…" she trailed off, burying her head into his shoulder, and he just gave a quiet snort, hugging her tightly to him.

"Me either." he agreed.

It's a little shorter than I would have liked, but I think it gets the point across. Sorry if my Peggy is a little out of character, we don't get very much to work with with her, after all. So, tell me what you think in a review if you would like to, it would be greatly appreciated.
~Dogstar