Chapter Three

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

"Bruce, you around?"

The sound of Steve's voice pulled Bruce from his study of several screens. The super soldier rarely came down to the labs, so the visit was unusual, though not unexpected. Digging his way out from the nest of books and data screens that had somehow developed around him, the doctor pulled off his glasses. "Yes, I'm here. Anything you wanted?"

Since the revelation of Peggy's plane crash, Steve had been more of a ghost around the tower than anything else. The day before, her body had been transferred to the tower. Thor had taken Steve to a baseball game, keeping him occupied with foolish questions about the game and the players, though he knew the answers perfectly well. They had returned late in the evening, after her body had been safely stored away.

Ever since, Bruce had been waiting for this visit.

"I was wondering if I - if it really is Peggy Carter." The captain hovered at the door of the lab, not quite entering. His face was set firmly, and he had the air of a man who was about to face his greatest sorrow. Bruce understood what he was really trying to ask.

"Would you like to see her? You can positively identify her for us; make sure we have the right person."

Nodding, Steve stepped resolutely forward and followed the doctor to the state-of-the-art cryogenic unit in the corner. The original cryo tube had been very old, and Tony had expressed concern about how long it would continue to operate. In his opinion, the only thing keeping it cold for all those years was the sub-zero temperatures of the environment it had been in.

Once removed from arctic to New York weather, the old unit had immediately displayed some worrying temperature fluctuations. They had promptly moved Peggy Carter's body to Stark's new cryo unit, only installed a few weeks before. It had a large plastic window in the side, which Bruce now uncovered for Steve's benefit.

The captain's breath caught suddenly in his throat.

She was still the same as ever - the same face, the same hair - no, it was a little longer than when he had last seen it. It had been over two years for her, he reminded himself. Two years since the last time he had seen her.

Of course, the last time he had seen her had been dramatically different.

Her hair had been blown straight back like a flag, fluttering and snapping in the backwash of Red Skull's plane. She had called to him, caught a strap on his uniform, and pulled him towards her, face vibrant and full of life, eyes worried for his safety. That was when she had kissed him for the first and last time, and he had finally, irrevocably lost his heart.

Now she lay white and cold before him in a rumpled khaki flight suit. Her hair, tossed and in a slightly unfamiliar style, lay around her head like a frozen halo, gleaming with frost. One arm was thrown loosely above her head and the other draped across her middle, fingers curled and still, red nails shining beneath their frosty coating.

Perhaps most comforting was the look on her face. In his nightmares, Steve had seen her alone and terrified, slowly freezing to death as she struggled to get out. Instead of the terror he'd feared to see though, her face was soft and calm; long eyelashes and cheeks sprinkled with tiny ice crystals, looking as if she had been sleeping or unconscious when she died.

" -teve? Steve? Are you okay?"

Steve wrenched his eyes from the still figure in the chamber. He could not smile; his face felt strained and stiff, but he politely nodded his thanks, turned on his heel, and left the lab.

It was only later, after he had broken two more punching bags, that he realized he'd never positively identified Peggy Carter's body to Bruce.

It didn't seem to matter - Bruce never asked him.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-

Steve filled the next few days as full as possible. He was glad there was a lot to do. Besides the usual individual and team training, there were endless reports to fill out, public appearances to schedule, and an ugly hostage situation at a nearby supermarket to settle. On top of all that, he was working with Pepper on a daily basis, finalizing funeral plans.

Days were fine. It was the nights that ate him alive.

Sleep didn't come easily, because every time he closed his eyes he would remember his own traumatic crash, only with Peggy in the control seat instead of him. Other times it would be as if she'd never died, and was still alive to toss her curls and give orders in her crisp, decided way. Those were the worst, because he would wake up and lose her all over again. He spent most of his nights in the gym.

The team was incredibly sympathetic, each one trying to reach out in their own way. Natasha never said a word, but she made him chocolate chip cookies three times that week, slapping Clint's hand when he reached for more. She also calmly smashed the lenses in two paparazzi's cameras when they got too close to Steve during his longer-than-usual morning jogs, and threatened a third with dreadful reprisals via her own shoelaces. They had wisely backed away.

Bruce sat down with Steve when the captain was too tired to think straight, helping him go over the plans for Peggy's funeral. He wasn't much good as a planner, but he was an expert at talking Steve to sleep with his low, quiet voice. The next morning Steve would wake up on the couch to find Bruce's afghan carefully tucked around his shoulders and the blinds drawn.

Clint completely vanished for four days, coming back with muddy boots and pictures of a graveyard and headstones for Thomas and Louisa Carter - pictures which JARVIS had not, in fact, been able to find. Eyes full of wordless understanding, he slapped Steve on the shoulder before crashing facedown on his bed for fourteen hours.

Thor, surprisingly enough, was the only one who managed to get past Steve's iron facade and get him to talk. He listened with the newfound sympathy he'd discovered at the loss of his own brother, graciously looking away when Steve's voice cracked and he had to swipe at his eyes. Afterwards, he offered to bring back a set of shieldmaiden armor to be buried with Peggy; an offer which Steve declined with extreme gratitude.

Tony stayed the most apart. Uncomfortable with grief, he spent most of his time knocking around in the labs, only emerging once to toss a folder into Steve's lap with papers engaging a private jet, hotel reservations and a deed for the empty spot next to Thomas and Louisa's graves. Touched, Steve had tried to thank him, but Tony had merely waved him off and vanished into the labs again.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

Curious at Tony's reticent behavior, Bruce finally confronted him. The billionaire was busily tinkering around under the hood of one of his cars, and didn't notice him until he spoke. "Tony, you've been really quiet. You okay?"

Tony looked up, face streaked with grease. "Hey, green guy. What do you mean, 'am I okay?' I'm a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, of course I'm okay. Pass me that wrench."

Bruce would not be distracted. 'Tony…"

"All right, fine." Tony slammed a piece of equipment into place with a crash and popped to his feet. "How did you know who Peggy Carter was? When I told Steve, you acted like you knew exactly who she was."

Bruce leaned back against the counter, beginning to understand. Friends of Tony Stark could sometimes forget the billionaire's paranoia, his fear that the people around him were keeping secrets. Bruce didn't know everything, but he did know that Tony had been betrayed by close friends before.

"I wasn't keeping anything from you," he reassured. "Remember - I spent ten years studying everything about Captain America, even before I ever started trying to recreate the Super Soldier serum. I could tell you where he was born, if you wanted. Saint Joseph's Hospital in Brooklyn. He almost died at birth - if his mother hadn't been a nurse, he never would have pulled through. On September 24, 19-"

"Okay, okay, creepy Cap expert, answer me this." Tony hesitated, then charged forward: "How did Peggy Carter know Howard? The cryo tube and the plane were both Stark Tech."

Bruce realized that this was the crux of the conversation. Tony had never been close with Howard Stark - that was no secret. Any unexplained connection to his father made him uneasy.

"Howard Stark wasn't my focus of study," Bruce admitted. "I do know that he was the top munitions and defense expert on the front lines and in London during the war. He and Peggy would almost certainly have revolved in the same circles. After the war, they were both involved in the foundation of SHIELD - their file dump probably has more on her, if you want to look. She disappeared from history in the late 1940's. I never knew why until now."

JARVIS interrupted the dead silence. "Sir, Miss Potts is calling you and Dr. Banner for dinner."

Tony banged around under the hood of the car for a moment more and then paused, leaning his forehead against the cool metal. "Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it. Go on up - I'll be right there."

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

After Bruce left, Tony spent another five or ten minutes tinkering on the car before he decided that to delay any longer would be to invite Pepper's wrath. Wiping his face and hands on the least greasy corner of the nearest rag, he got to the top of the stairs just in time to hear Nick Fury's voice through the open door. Evidently there was an impromptu teleconference in session.

"We're recalling Margaret Carter's body for study and analysis."

Clint shot to his feet, but a sharp look from his superior quelled him, and he reluctantly slumped back on the couch, glowering at the screen. Pepper leaned forward, forehead furrowing. "The funeral is scheduled for next week; will we get her body back in time?"

Fury's one eye never wavered. "The body will be retained indefinitely. You can hold the funeral as a memorial service instead. No, Rogers - that's an order."

Steve's face was awful in its sudden grief. He'd had his heart set on burying Peggy properly, and the whole team knew it. It was the one thing left that he could do for her.

Tony made up his mind abruptly. Running both hands briefly through his hair, he strode into the room with I-am-Iron-Man written all over him. "You know what? I don't think so," he airily addressed the director on the large screen. "I'm her next of kin, it's up to me to decide."

"Back off, Stark," warned Fury. "She was an agent of SHIELD, and as such we have rights to her body."

"Really?" Tony bounced on his toes. "Like I said, I don't think so. Got a team of lawyers says I'm right."

Fury glared from under his lowered brow. "Back off, Stark," he repeated slowly.

"Why?" It was Steve's turn to break in, regardless of Fury's order. "You turned her over to us - why take her back now?"

Fury looked impassive, which was his way of looking uncomfortable. "SHIELD is still not fully operational. There were some oversights discovered while reviewing the paperwork. Be aware, we are prepared to take legal action over this issue."

Tony's thread of patience snapped. It was a very thin thread, to be fair.

"You do that, and I'll pull all my tech from your organization. All of it. And don't think I can't do that." Tony flipped off the screen and spun toward Steve, looking him in the eye for the first time in days. "I've got this. You plan your funeral and whatever."

Steve looked stunned at the unexpected defense. "Tony…"

"Don't! I don't want to hear it." Tony stuck his fingers in his ears and brushed past the supersoldier. "Purely selfish motives. I'm her next-of-kin, I'm responsible, and I don't want Fury and his goons pawing over her. We're having that funeral."

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;