Chapter Twenty-one

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Tony Stark did not give the bride away.

"Nope," he told Peggy when she asked him. He was in his place on the couch, surrounded by various screens and tablets. "Don't think so."

"Tony," scolded Pepper as she came into the room, shocked at his rudeness, but Tony shook his head adamantly. "Nuh-uh," he repeated. "Not really my place." Something pinged on one of the screens, and he swiped it away before swinging himself to his feet, scattering his technology around him. "Good timing though; great timing actually," he finished, catching Peggy's elbow and propelling her with him through the door.

Peggy had to walk quickly to keep up with him. She wasn't particularly disappointed - she had largely chosen to ask him because of her connection to his father, but she was curious. "Stark? Are you afraid people will think I'm your illegitimate daughter or something?"

"Tony, call me Tony. And no, I'm not, although yes, they probably would." He stopped short in the middle of the hall as he processed that. "Oh, that's depressing - you're like a zillion years older than I am." Just as abruptly, he sped up again. "On a not completely unrelated topic, I have a early wedding present for you." He pulled her into the elevator and hit the button for the fiftieth floor.

"Shouldn't we wait for Steve then?" Peggy was confused.

Tony scratched his ear. "Um, yeah, no. I'll get him something different; star spangled socks or something. This is for you."

The door opened, and he preceded her into the large, cozy waiting room, a spring in each step. "Come on, come on." She followed him, but stopped short, arrested on the threshold at the sight of a tall, lean, slightly stooped figure, who was rising from his seat at her entrance, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Miss Carter," said Edwin Jarvis.

His mouth worked as he tried to say something else, but she flew across the floor toward him, throwing her arms around his narrow shoulders. "Mr. Jarvis!"

Tony, uncomfortable with emotional scenes, bounced on his toes and fidgeted around the room, but he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face at the successful orchestration of his plan. He had rarely ever seen the reserved old retainer so happy.

Peggy finally pulled back, with a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob, trying to straighten his lapels. "Oh, you poor dear - I've rumpled your jacket. Here, sit down."

Jarvis' eyes were very damp as he sank back onto the couch beside her. "Believe me, Miss Carter," his voice sounded the same as ever, just older and a little more frail. "I would be willing to put up with considerably worse to see you again."

Tony tried to slip out of the room, tactful for once in his life, but Peggy called after him. "Thank you, Tony." Her eyes were very bright, and her smile trembled a little around the corners. He flapped his hand, trying to act as if he wasn't touched. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he called back as he made his escape, and tried to ignore the unusual glow of warmth around the place his arc reactor used to be.

He had intended for this reunion to be a surprise on both sides, but Pepper had firmly vetoed the idea. She was not, she had said, about to have Jarvis drop dead from a heart attack the week of Peggy's wedding. In fact, worried that Tony wouldn't break the news carefully enough, she had gone with him when he went to tell the old couple.

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Twenty-four hours earlier, Tony had bounded unannounced into Jarvis' front room. "You're invited to a wedding," he declaimed cheerfully. Jarvis, picking up his book from where he had dropped it at Tony's sudden entrance, raised his eyebrows.

"Congratulations, sir. May I ask when the happy union will take place?"

"Saturday," Tony answered, flopping onto the couch opposite where Jarvis sat. "But it's not mine. Technically you're not actually invited though, because neither the bride or the groom know you're alive." Unable to sit still, he launched himself to his feet and prowled the room, laughing to himself. "It's funny. One of them doesn't know you at all, and the other one doesn't know that you're alive, and you know that one of them is alive even though you don't know them, and you know the other one, but you think they're dead."

Jarvis blinked. He had spent a lifetime serving the Stark family, but on occasion they still possessed the ability to baffle him. "Sir, I believe you are inebriated. Shall I telephone Miss Potts?"

"Miss Potts is here already, thank you Jarvis," said Pepper, wearily stepping through the door that Tony had left open from his dramatic entrance. "And he actually isn't drunk - he's just has some news to tell you that he should have brought up a long time ago." From the stress she laid on the last words, and the hard look she leveled at Stark, Jarvis guessed this was not a new topic of discussion.

"In my defense, I've been busy," Tony hedged, rubbing his chest uncomfortably. "Doing things. Anyway, I sort of didn't tell you the whole truth the last time I came here."

"I beg your pardon?" Jarvis laid his book aside. There were obviously more important matters to concentrate on.

Tony managed to look unusually nervous and ridiculously pleased with himself at the same time. "Yeah, I said SHIELD found Peggy Carter, but I didn't tell you that she woke up when we thawed her out." It was a gross oversimplification, but when he opened his mouth to elaborate, Pepper stepped on his foot in warning and jerked her head toward the old man.

Jarvis was staring blankly at the corner of the room, fine old eyebrows gathered a little in confusion. At last he raised his eyes, and the look in them was almost heartbreaking.

"I - I'm afraid I don't quite understand," he quavered, and he sounded like an old man for the first time that Tony could remember.

Pepper elbowed Tony out of the way with perhaps a little more force than was necessary, and knelt on the floor by Jarvis's knees, covering his long, knobby hands with hers. She hadn't known the older man for anywhere near as long as Tony had, but the two of them got along well; they shared a kindred understanding of what it was like to take care of a Stark.

Slowly, methodically, she explained everything - Peggy, the Stark Tube, and the long period of uncertain waiting. The only thing she left out was the little matter of Steve's blood; the Avengers had agreed not to let that information out for Peggy's own protection. Halfway through her explanation, she felt the hands beneath hers begin to tremble. When she was done, Jarvis sat back heavily in his chair.

"You mean to say," he started slowly, "that she's been up there all this time, locked into that tube at the top of the world?"

Pepper nodded, and he took a long, shaking breath, blinking his eyes rapidly.

"And she's all right?" he continued, shooting a sharp eye at Tony's face. "She isn't - is she changed at all?"

Tony straightened to attention, incredibly relieved that Jarvis didn't sound so broken and old anymore. "Hasn't aged a day," he promptly declared. "Not that I would know. That's why I'm here - to take you back with me to see for yourself."

Jarvis's fingers were still unsteady as he absently smoothed the front of his jacket, checking that it was properly buttoned. A sudden thought struck him, and a gleam came into his eyes. "Captain Rogers - does she know he's alive?"

Pepper smiled widely, and Tony started bobbing up and down on his toes. "That's the wedding you're invited to. They're getting married on Saturday."

"Well." Jarvis pulled out a large white handkerchief, and blew his nose almost apologetically before folding it away. For a moment he looked closely into the faces of his two young friends, and then reached for his cane. "I suppose I shall simply have to come. After all, someone needs to ensure that he is worthy of her."

Tony sputtered. "Worthy? He's Captain Stars and Stripes, the golden boy of the '40's - of course he's worthy."

Jarvis tilted his head a trifle dubiously. "He may be Captain America," he conceded carefully, "but she is Miss Carter. I'm not entirely convinced that anybody is her equal."

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Steve settled himself on the couch opposite Jarvis. His hands felt too large for comfort, so he folded them between his knees, and looked up at the man across from him who was eyeing him imperturbably. Peggy had told him about Jarvis; he featured in many of her stories, but she had never told him quite how severe he could look.

"Captain Rogers," Jarvis finally said, and his voice was very formal. "What are your intentions regarding Miss Carter?"

Steve Rogers had faced down bullies and Nazis and backstabbing allies, but none of them had ever made him feel this off-balance. Then again, none of them had ever asked him about his relationship with the woman who held his heart. He unclasped his hands, steadily meeting the other man's eyes.

"We're getting married tomorrow."

Even just saying the words sent a warm rush of joy to his heart. The thought that in a matter of hours he would be able to take her in his arms and call her his wife was nothing short of exhilarating. Steve suddenly realized he was smiling broadly, and tried to regain his composure.

Jarvis had been watching him closely. "And why do you want to marry her?" From the happy, involuntary smile he had seen on the captain's face, he was pretty sure of the answer, but he had to ask.

Steve didn't even hesitate. "Because I love her," he confessed, and there was a straightforwardness and a purpose in his eyes that Jarvis had seen in a hundred newsreels, back in the day. A little more slowly, he tried to explain. "I've tried living without her and it's a lonely road, believe me. I trust her with my life, and she keeps my head on straight. She's my partner and my best girl and the strongest person I know, and I want to be with her for as long as I live."

Satisfied, Jarvis settled his cane against his knee. He had never had the opportunity to meet Captain Rogers before, but both Howard and Peggy had held him in high esteem, and he was starting to realize they had not exaggerated the man's qualities. "You should know," he warned the captain anyway, "that Miss Carter is very important to me. She grieved deeply over your death. Should you hurt her again, I will have no choice but to demand satisfaction."

Anyone else would have howled with laughter at the idea of a frail old man in his nineties threatening Captain America, but Steve never even thought of cracking a smile. "Understood," he said resolutely, and they sealed the deal with a handshake.

"I wanted to thank you," Steve told the other man afterwards, settling back onto the couch a little more comfortably. The atmosphere of subtle tension had relaxed, and he smiled the modest grin that had been immortalized in old films and photographs. "I know the years after the war weren't easy for her, and you were her closest friend."

Jarvis pretended not to be incredibly flattered. "Yes, well - she has quite the persuasive way about her."

"How did you meet Peggy, anyway?" Steve asked curiously. Jarvis immediately contrived to look completely innocent, though he fidgeted with his cane.

"She - ah, made a rather memorable impact," he finally confessed. "Apparently she thought I was trying to kidnap her, so she hit me. Quite hard, actually."

Steve's shout of laughter carried across the entire floor of the tower, and Peggy gave up eavesdropping from the hallway with a huff. "He had it coming," she snapped crisply, stepping briskly into the room. "Coming up on a girl in the dark like that; really, Mr. Jarvis."

There was no bite in her voice though, and her eyes danced as she looked at Steve, who had risen to meet her. Jarvis watched the two of them together, and was content. Peggy looked happier than he had ever seen her, and he could tell from the look on the captain's face that he would do all in his power to be worthy of her hand.

Perhaps Captain Rogers was her equal, after all. Jarvis decided he was willing to entertain the possibility.

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"Did you get it all sorted?"

Steve started a little in surprise - he hadn't thought anybody else was awake. He had spent the last four hours fielding a phone call from Washington D.C. regarding a foreign official who refused to negotiate with U.S. representatives unless Captain America was present.

"Yeah." He sank onto the other end of the couch and watched Peggy as she flipped a page over the back of her clipboard, holding her pen in her teeth. "I listened to both sides, gave my opinion, and then told him I was sorry I couldn't come down in person, but that I was headed out of town on a vitally important assignment in the morning. I don't think the diplomats were too pleased."

Peggy laughed around her pen, almost dropping it. "You're so dramatic, Steve."

"Hey, it's the truth," he protested, grinning despite himself. "Marrying you is the biggest thing I've ever done, and I'm not about to miss it for a trip to Washington."

She smiled and bent studiously over her clipboard, hair pinned back out of the way, red nails gleaming as she carefully filled in another blank space in the paperwork. The lamplight was warm on her hair and face, and suddenly the artist in Steve desperately wanted to capture the moment.

"I'm not much good at making pretty speeches," he admitted quietly. "I wish I could tell you just how nice you look right now."

Peggy dimpled surprisingly, and he felt the weariness of the long day begin to dissolve as she threw him a laughing glance. "I suspect it's the sort of thing that has to be learned," she mused. "Practice makes perfect and all that, you know."

"Would you mind if I practiced on you?" he asked a little shyly, and she shook her head decidedly. "Not at all. I'm counting on it, Captain." Neatly inscribing her name on the last page, she looked down at it for a long moment, before flipping the papers back into place and setting them on the coffee table.

"That's that, then. I'm off to get my beauty sleep," she said, and rose. He got to his feet as well, looking down at her. Peggy suddenly stepped close, pulling his head down and kissing him briefly. It wasn't quite as cool or professional as she had intended, and she was a little breathless when she pulled back out of his arms.

"There," she said, stepping briskly around the table and starting up the stairs. "That's the last one."

"Last one?" Steve repeated, dazed from the unexpected kiss. Peggy leaned over the railing, smiling mischievously down at him.

"That's the last kiss you'll ever get from Margaret Carter," she told him. "Next time I kiss you, I'll have a different surname."

She was beautiful, leaning down from above him, face glowing, demure and daring and strong. Something swelled fiercely inside his chest, and he could hardly breathe. They looked at one another for a long moment and then Steve drew himself up and saluted her, only half playfully. "Good night then, Agent Carter."

"Good night, Captain Rogers."

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Peggy sensibly took herself off to bed, going through the familiar routine with her head in the clouds. Curling up beneath the blankets, she reached out and drifted her fingers across the edge of the framed picture beside her bed.

A week before, Clint had dropped a cardboard box into her lap. "Figured you might want this," he had said without preamble. When she pressed him, he off-handedly explained that he had just happened to run across it in a Smithsonian storage facility, and staunchly refused to accept her thanks. Peggy seriously doubted that he had gone through the proper channels to get the things, but since they were hers anyway, she didn't worry about it. There hadn't been much - a few books and papers, her birth certificate, and some photographs. At the bottom of the box she had found her picture of Steve; the one she had taken from his file after the war and kept as a remembrance.

It was too dark to see, but she traced his outline by heart, fingers slipping along the cool glass. By this time tomorrow, she would be Mrs. Steven Rogers. It was a ridiculously sentimental thought, but it was true, and she couldn't help beaming quietly in the darkness.

On the other side of the tower, Steve didn't even try to go to bed. The mattress was always too soft when he was worked up like this. Instead he rolled himself in a blanket and lay on the floor, his compass warm in his hand, excitement and gratitude throbbing through his veins.

Neither one got much sleep that night. Blue eyes and a tender smile danced behind Peggy's eyelids, and every time Steve drifted off, it was to dream of Peggy Carter dressed in white.

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You know me better than to assume this is the last chapter. I wasn't going to split it, but it felt like it ended too abruptly otherwise, so... there is one more chapter and the epilogue. However, this is the final count. For sure.

Also, they'll likely come pretty quickly now, so check back in a couple days for more.

Thank you - all of you - for the lovely reviews from the last chapter. They didn't just make my day, they made my week, and I keep going back and re-reading them. Guests: I can't respond to each of you individually, but I am incredibly grateful for your notes. Thank you for taking the time to let me know that what I'm doing is worth it.

On that note, any thoughts? Questions? Comments?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the storyline.