author's note: Because you've all been so wonderful to me, I decided to give you chapter five early. This one is (hopefully) much less angst-y than its predecessors. I hope you enjoy!

Please do find me on Tumblr, as well. My url is: wreckofherheart.

Until next time!

In Bloom
5.

Since awakening from her coma, Peggy is alert to the sound of her doctor's footsteps. Over time, she has managed to recognise the step rhythm of most nurses and the occasional doctor who check on their patients. And there is one nurse in particular who keeps a close eye on her. A young lady, no older than twenty-one. They've spoken briefly, but of nothing major. Peggy has always been a private woman.

Rarely does Peggy sleep. She's a light sleeper, and since Dottie's escape, Peggy has constantly been wary. This isn't paranoia. It is common sense. Peggy has been targeted in the past, and she knows that it would be unwise to ever let her guard down. Now that both of her eyes work, Peggy feels lot less vulnerable, but it's still difficult to walk, even if she does have a crutch to lean on. She is healing, though. Gradually.

A patient beside her snores loudly. Two days ago, his leg was amputated, and his screams were deafly. He deserves his rest, even if he does make a racket about it. Peggy keeps her eyes closed, and listens to the sound of one of the nurses passing her bed. She stops at the foot of one nearby, and then there's whispering. Another nurse has joined her; there's a little giggling, until they make their way out of the ward, continuing their patrol.

She guesses about an hour passes until the nurse returns.

Except, this is not a nurse.

Peggy lies still, and she listens to this person's footsteps. It is not a rhythm she recognises. They step lightly, so lightly it's tricky for Peggy to hear them. The footsteps cease, and Peggy is conscious of being watched. She holds her breath, keeps her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Several minutes go by, and there is still no movement from their visitor.

The visitor coughs. A man.

Other footsteps approach. These are ones she recognises. A doctor in his mid-fifties, greying hair, tired and a heavy smoker. They speak in hushed whispers––Peggy isn't able to catch a word they're saying. Other footsteps arrive, and then more. The doctor nears Peggy's bed. Peggy's heart catches. But the doctor walks straight past her bed, to the one beside her.

Clang.

She hears the sound of wheels, squeaking across the cold floor.

The doctor is moving the bed away.

The bed to her right is pulled back as well, and these footsteps she doesn't recognise. Then another bed. Another. Peggy's eyes remain shut.

It's obvious what is happening.

Remove all civilians (patients). Clear the room. Home in on the target. Make sure they have no weapons. Or, as far as these cowards are concerned, make sure she's stuck in a hospital bed, partially immobilised. Peggy doesn't move. She listens to the beds being taken away, out of the ward, down the hallway.

The door shuts quietly.

A curtain is pulled, barricading the view of Peggy's bed.

She guesses two men are at her bed, one leaning down to inspect her. His breath stinks of cider. When he whispers to the man beside him, he speaks Russian. Peggy can't understand him. She remains in her fatigued state, and her muscles automatically tense when one of the men takes her wrist. He's gentle with her as he cuffs her left wrist to the bed frame, and then her right.

More Russian. The clatter of metal––equipment. She can hear the distinct sound of a syringe being squeezed, some sort of fluid squirting out of the tip. The doctor returns to the scene, and, to Peggy's fortune, he doesn't speak Russian, but English. 'Make this quick. You promise this won't hurt her? God knows she's been through enough trauma as it is.'

'Be quiet, old man,' his Russian accent colours his words. 'Agent Carter is already asleep. She won't feel anything.'

'I trust you will handle the corpse?'

'Mm-Hm.'

'Wait, wait.' A pause. 'I don't think we should kill her yet. We have a few questions to ask regarding Stark's weapon. Plus, she'll know about his location. Once we've finished asking questions, you can kill her.'

There is a long sigh. 'Fine. Hurry up.'

The man with the Russian accent walks away. Another man, heavier footsteps, comes forward, and Peggy feels his hand on her shoulder. He shakes her, to which Peggy puts on her best act, pretending to wake up from a very deep sleep. She blinks, looks at the man who's woken her up––

Instantly Peggy struggles, and pretends she's shocked to find her wrists cuffed.

'Agent Carter, please. Stay calm.'

'Enough,' the Russian spits, pushing him aside. He glares down at Peggy, and she sees the syringe balanced between his fingers. His red hair is tied in a ponytail; a scarred face, and a very piercing glare. Peggy lets out a whimper, wide eyed, and she fools him to believe she's scared. 'All right, Carter, we'll make this easy for you.' He places a hand onto the mattress and moves into her. 'Tell us where Howard Stark is. You tell us, and we won't hurt you.'

Peggy fights the handcuffs again. Her wrists dig into the metal. The Russian cocks a brow.

'You can't get away, agent, so best start talking.'

'I––I don't know what you mean!' Peggy stutters.

He slaps her across the face.

Peggy was not expecting that, but she exaggerates her surprise. The sting melts into one of her cuts, doubling the pain. She winces. 'Please, sir, I don't know where Mister Stark is. I promise.'

'I hate lies, agent.'

'I don't know! I honestly haven't the foggiest idea!'

'Quiet!' He snaps. 'You'll wake the entire hospital, you cow. Come on. I know you're lying. You're one of his whores, aren't you?'

Peggy stops.

She wants to break his jaw.

Do people really think she'd stoop to that level? Howard?!

How dare he?

'In fact, I'd say his favourite,' the Russian adds, grinning at his companion. 'You two are always sneaking around together, but now it all makes sense. I know he's told you things he should not have told you about. So, spill.' No response. 'Come on, Margaret, I'm making this easy for you. You answer my questions, and I'll let you go. How about that?'

She glances at the syringe.

The Russian notices her looking. Peggy speaks quickly. 'Okay, okay, I'll tell you! I'll tell you anything you want to know, but, please, don't kill me. Please don't kill me. Please.'

'You know, they hold in such high esteem at the SSR. You're just as pathetic as the whores you mingle with.'

Peggy watches him place the syringe aside. She notes that he is placing more weight on his left leg, than his right. The fact his right hand is bandaged, and he breathes heavily.

When he faces her again, she returns to her hysterical act.

'Anything you want! I'll give you anything you want.'

The Russian grins slyly. 'Oh, really?' He inhales deeply, eyes greedily roaming down her figure beneath the bed sheet. 'That can be arranged, my lovely. Hm. You are a pretty thing, aren't you?' He drags a chair over, and sits beside Peggy, eyes menacing. Peggy feels disgusted to be looked at this way, but she doesn't break her character. 'All right. So, where is Mister Stark?'

'Please, sir…'

'What?'

'Can I have a drink first? Please. I'm so thirsty.'

The Russian watches her, squinting his eyes. Peggy pulls her most sweetest expression, her eyes pleading with him to cooperate. It's the type of face any man, even the roughest, melt at. And it never fails. The Russian rolls his eyes, looks up at his companion, 'Go.' He hurries away. The Russian returns to gazing at Peggy in a rather disturbing manner. 'I see now how you managed to achieve such a high rank.' He chuckles. 'You girls are clever.'

She knows what he is implying, and her blood boils, but she won't give him the satisfaction of her wrath just yet.

The Russian's companion returns, a cup of water in hand. He comes over to Peggy's side, and is about to tip it towards her lips when––

'Please let me drink it with my own hands.' Peggy watches the younger man with big, adoring eyes. He glances at the Russian, then back at Peggy, and he cannot refuse. 'Please?'

He nods. The Russian groans.

'Hurry up, Fletcher,' he mutters.

Fletcher removes Peggy's handcuffs, and foolishly sets them aside. He comes closer to Peggy, helping her sit upright. 'Thank you, thank you so much,' Peggy says, and she takes the cup of water from him gratefully. The Russian and his companion watch her, and she sips for a few seconds, her eyes darting to their limbs, the way they stand, their most sensitive areas.

'You finished now, Carter?'

Peggy lowers her cup. 'Not quite.'

Fletcher yelps out when her fist smacks into his jaw. The Russian reaches for her, but he's too slow. He collapses to the side when she kicks his right leg, hitting the ground heavily. Peggy throws her cup at the doctor who just stands there uselessly. It knocks him out cold. The British agent tries her best to stand, but her feet haven't adjusted yet, and she only ends up collapsing onto the floor with her Russian friend. The Russian growls at her, clawing for Peggy's top, but she kicks him in the face.

'Learn some manners, you awful man!'

And with that, Peggy scrambles to her feet, takes one step forward, and falls splat on her tummy.

The Russian laughs. 'Look at you go!'

Peggy growls, irritated that her legs are not cooperating. For God's sake! She flips around onto her back, and sees the Russian crawling over to her, teeth jarred, and ready to beat her to death. Peggy scoffs, and sends her foot into his face again. 'You are repulsive!' She yells at him.

'Yeah? Well, you're a treat for me!' He grabs her ankle. Peggy struggles out of his grip, but somehow he manages to grab her other ankle, and pulls her towards him. Peggy looks up at him, wide eyed, and realises what his intentions are. Before his fingers reach the waist of her combat trousers, she spits in his eye. 'Shit!' And knees him in the crotch. The Russian glows red, his breath rushing out of him. Peggy grabs the back of his head, yanks him down and slams her forehead into his. Hard enough to knock him out. He collapses pathetically to the side.

'Men,' she scowls.

Peggy turns onto her stomach, and crawls away from the Russian, searching for something to help her walk. It is just her luck that she manages to find a pair of crutches leaning against the wall. Peggy grins, and uses her palms to manoeuvre her towards the crutches. When she reaches them, Peggy has to force herself to her feet, which is no easy task.

But she never loses to a challenge.

It takes her around five minutes to finally catch her balance, pressing herself up into the wall. She reaches for the first crutch, leaning most of weight onto it, before claiming the other. Fortunately, Peggy has used crutches before, and it doesn't take her long to get used to them. Her back hurts slightly, but she ignores the pain as she turns towards the door.

To her dismay, the Russian starts to gain consciousness again.

Peggy hobbles over, and whams her crutch into the side of his face.

He won't be waking up again anytime soon.

Before she leaves the ward, Peggy sits on the edge of her bed, and pulls on her boots. She snatches her dog tags, placing the chain around her neck. All set, she lifts herself off the bed, clinging onto the crutches, and proceeds out of the ward. As soon as she opens the door, two men whip their heads around and dash for her.

She doesn't recognise them, and they are definitely not staff.

Peggy waits until they're in reach, and sends her first crutch at the feet of one of the men. He trips, flying forward, smashing his head into the wall. The other man realises he's running into a mistake, but he's too late to change his mind. Peggy smiles at him, and she jabs her crutch into his chest, winding him badly. He collapses, and Peggy is soon down the hallway, and round the corner.

'Oi!' She hears the click of a gun, and turns.

A man is aiming his pistol at her, dressed in a distinctive uniform. She doesn't recognise it. He steps closer, smiling crookedly.

'What's your name, darling?'

Peggy squares her shoulders. 'Agent.'

Beside her is a tray full of sharp medical equipment, ready to be washed. The man aims his gun, and if wasn't so slow, he would have shot her. Peggy, however, is too fast for him. She hits the tray of equipment, and the instruments shower into him, temporarily blinding his view.

Whack!

Blood spurts from his mouth, and he loses consciousness. Peggy stabs her crutch back to the floor.

These things have certainly come in handy.

Alerted by the sound of their brawl, other men have come rushing forwards. Peggy hasn't the slightest clue who these men are or what they want her from her. But she has a hunch they're all associated with Dorothy Underwood, and that thought sets her heart racing.

Four guns are aimed at her.

'Stop right there, Carter!'

'Don't move!'

'We'll shoot!'

Peggy rolls her eyes, rather unimpressed they don't actually shoot, but instead crowd around her, as if she were nothing but a lamb being preyed on. That is their first mistake. Their second mistake is that they do not shoot her when their target is bloody open! Peggy decides to get things moving again.

She swings her crutch, crushing one of the men's jaws. He tumbles into another, who smacks his head to the floor. Another man runs to her, ready to knock her out with the butt of his weapon. Peggy is too busy dealing with an opponent in front, but once she's tripped him over, she retreats her right hand and smacks the man in the face.

He's stunned momentarily. She whirls around, and slams her foot into his chest. This is when Peggy realises she really shouldn't have done that. The last man standing is taken by surprise when Peggy falls backwards, losing her balance. They tumble to the floor together, Peggy landing on top of him.

'Chivalry is still alive! You are a dear,' she says cheerfully, and before he can attack her, she elbows him in the face.

Peggy steals his handgun, and, after much ado, manages to scramble back to her feet, leaning on her crutches. She needs to get out of his wretched hospital, contact the SSR, and hopefully throw these men in custody. To her relief, it is not men wanting to kill her who come running down the hallway, but two nurses, one of them being Peggy's favourite.

Both stop dead at the sight.

'Nurses,' Peggy greets. 'If you'd be so kind as to escort me to the nearest telephone, I'd be ever so grateful.'

From where he stands, binoculars in hand, Howard watches a large group of men hurry into the hospital. They are not members of the SSR, and they certainly don't look like patients. Beside him, Angie can see for herself what is happening. Only twenty minutes ago, they had left the train station, and made their way to see Peggy. Yet neither were expecting the hospital to be invaded.

Howard lowers the binoculars, jarring his teeth. 'I hope they're not after Agent Carter, but I suppose I'm pushing my luck with that.'

Angie can't believe this. Twice Peggy has been confirmed dead. And now this? Angie sure as Hell didn't travel all of this way to be told Peggy is dead for a third time. Furious and impatient Howard is just standing there, she grabs him by his collar, and yanks him forwards. 'We have to go in and help her!'

'What do you expect us to do? In case you haven't noticed, we are unarmed.'

Howard is right. They have no weapons on them. In fact, all they have are the clothes on their backs. Angie exhales, and tries to think things through in a more rational manner. The mysterious men have disappeared inside the building, and no one appears to be guarding the entrance. Angie is far from a secret agent. She knows that entering an invaded hospital through the front door is a stupid move, but she's not letting Peggy fight all of those men by herself.

Looking at Howard, she can see in his eyes that he is very keen on staying put for now.

Angie, on the other hand, is not a patient girl.

Well, what other choice does she have? Her father knows she has gone missing––yet again. So, if she returns home he'll probably kill her. And if she goes into this building, these men will probably kill her. Really, she doesn't have a choice. All she cares about is the fact that Peggy is in that hospital, alone, and these bastards are after her for reasons Angie knows little about.

Ah, Hell.

Angie runs down the hill, sliding gracefully through the mud, the hem of her diner dress getting sprayed with dirt. Howard calls out her name, but Angie ignores him, hurrying closer and closer to the hospital. She doesn't see anybody. Yes, she can go in! She can go in, and find Peggy, and get her out and––

'Miss!'

Shit. Angie comes to an abrupt halt. A few metres away is one of the men. He hasn't aimed a weapon at her, thank God, but he's cautious. Angie decides to put her acting skills to good use.

'Oh, sir, I'm so sorry, sir!' She cries, hurrying over to him. The man takes a step back, and widens his eyes at the outburst. 'I'm out here all alone, and I'm lost! I don't know where to go. And I'm so scared. It's dark and cold, and, and I'm really, really scared, sir!'

A pause.

Suddenly, Angie bursts into tears.

The man gulps, and edges over towards her, awkwardly placing his hands on her shoulders. 'All right, Miss. All right. Uh, where––whereabouts are you from? I can help you get back home. It's okay.'

'Really? You will?!' To Angie's relief, she can see Howard out of the corner of her eye. He comes up behind the man, who is now nodding enthusiastically, delighted to be helping a poor girl in need.

'Of course. Let me––'

Howard hits him over the head.

'You owe me,' he mutters, watching the man fall to the ground.

Angie kneels down, and unbuttons the man's jacket, passing it over to Howard. 'Wear his uniform. Play the part. You can take me inside, and then if anybody asks, ya can just say I was tryin' to break into the hospital. Make up a story, but just get me in there, Mister Stark.'

'But…' Howard groans loudly, and snatches the jacket. 'This is ridiculous,' he mutters, ridding his own blazer and pulling on the man's attire. Angie snatches his handgun, and reconsiders giving it to Howard. Howard gapes at her. 'Oh, and what are you going to be doing with that?'

She shrugs, shoving it into her coat pocket. 'Dunno yet.'

'I fear Miss Carter is rubbing off on you,' Howard comments.

'That's no bad thing.'

He grins. 'I suppose not.' He cocks a brow at her. 'Very convincing, by the way. You're not an actress, are you?'

'Someday, I hope!'

'Tell me when you have your first big hit. I'll be there.'

Conscious of the heavy weapon stored safely in her pocket, Angie comes over to Howard's side, and he takes her arm, she as his pretend hostage. Together, they approach the hospital doors, swing them open and enter. And, when the doors slam shut behind them, Angie wonders if she has truly made a fatal mistake.