*A/N - If you could see my brain it's like a vortex of three brain cells, the sound a clown car makes, and that angry cartoon penguin thing.

And when I tell you I have started writing the next chapters for like 4 different stories? I'm not lying. My brain could never decide. It was like each time I started writing a different driver was at the wheel.

Somehow we ended up here.
this one is fun because it's not as dramatic/angsty as my others. So I hope you enjoy!

—

Four Months Later

"Okay. This is getting insufferable."

Peggy turns to see Natasha glaring at something. "What?"

The woman lifts up a piece of paper and she recognizes the sketch of her in an instant. Her eyes flick down to the name on the locker on the quinjet. "That's my locker, Romanoff."

"Yeah, but I wanted to use your stuff. And it's getting insufferable how adorable you two are. Cut it out."

Peggy is smirking, "If you don't want to find sketches of me, don't go through my locker." Then her smirk widens, "or the drawers in my room."

Natahsa rolls her eyes and laughs, sliding the locker shut. "It's like you two were born to be a pair."

The clack of her pistol as she checks that the barrel is empty resounds and she shrugs, "I think so too."

Natasha shoves her shoulder and then slips another knife into the holding strap around her thigh, "I can't believe you guys talked me into moving to DC."

Peggy scoffs, "Oh please, don't pretend it was our idea! You mentioned it first! "

Natasha smirks, "listen, I just know with you two along I'll get the easier jobs. You two can do the really heavy lifting."

Peggy leans back against the leather seat and feels the seat belt buckle behind her spine. "Don't think I won't drag you along with me."

Target approach, less than 60 seconds.

"Gear up!" Peggy snaps, getting everyone's attention.

Natasha slips a pistol into her thigh holster and eyes the coordinates, "we're here."

"Let's go."

—

Three Months Later

"I've been thinking."

Steve looks over, his sketch pencil pausing mid stroke, "about?"

"I want to keep my last name."

She's not sure what she expects. Fred had been fiery mad when she'd requested it what felt like lifetimes ago.

But Steve just smiles softly, "is that all? Of course. It would be confusing with two Captain Rogers' anyways." She sees the twinkle and knows he's teasing her.

"You really don't mind?"

He furrows his brow and starts gesturing with his pencil like he does anytime he's serious about a subject. "Mind? I'm getting to marry you. I wouldn't care if you wanted me to take your name." He laughs, going back to his sketch, "as long as it means I get to be married to you."

Her mouth gapes just a bit before she's shoving his sketch pad aside. "Hey—" he says a bit surpirsed, but that's all he gets out as she straddles his lap and starts kissing him.

He laughs against her lips and pulls her face back from his, "what are you doing?"

She kisses him again, then kisses his forehead and his jaw before looking at him, "you're just unbearably kind. And I get to have you all to myself."

His eyes are alight and he tilts his head, brushing hair back from her face, softly placing it behind her ear. "I'm all yours."

She reaches over and picks up the sketch pad, wincing as one of the pages is now rumpled from her rash action. "Sorry."

He mock frowns, "how am I ever going to manage?"

She wrinkles her nose at him, "I'll buy you a new one."

And with one swift motion she finds herself lifted up and cradled in his arms, "not good enough." His ability to treat her, a giant tall muscular woman, like a normal sized woman surprises her yet again, they couldn't be a more perfect pair. Her mind keeps reeling that she's the luckiest girl who's ever been sucked from one universe and stuck in another.

"Oh?" She asks with a raised eyebrow, "and how am I ever going to make it up to you?"

He sets her gently on her feet and appraises her before smiling and placing a gentle kiss on her nose and then lips, "by meeting me at the altar in one week. Don't you leave me stranded."

She laughs, resting a hand against his cheek, "Captain America, jilted at the altar, left standing like a fool."

He laughs in response, tipping his head back, "what a headline."

Peggy enjoys the sound of his laughter, wanting it to continue. "I know I'll be there. It's you I'm worried about, your timeliness leaves much to be desired. So on our wedding day don't you dare be late."

And it's like she's struck him. Sadness and surprise cross his expression. Eyes widening and mouth parting just slightly. There's a long pause, then his brow furrows and he looks down, throat bobbing. It looks like he's trying to say something but he can't manage it. He just nods and steps back from her. "Steve?" She asks confused, "are you alright?"

He nods again, "yeah." Then he looks up and smiles again, it's a practiced smile. She's seen it on the propaganda reels, "I'm fine. I should head to that meeting with Tony, I'll catch up to you later?"

"Steve, what is it?"

He wrinkles his nose, "it's nothing. I'll see you later." He kisses her cheek and then he's gone, leaving her on the wrong foot.

She stares at the door for far too long before a voice makes her jump.

Captain Carter, might I be of help?

She looks up, "Jarvis? Help with what?"

You listened to it before, but I think perhaps that particular phrase is more poignant to Captain Rogers. Explaining his reaction.

"What phrase?"

Then suddenly a voice recording is playing and she gasps, hearing her own voice. A tad higher, a tad lighter, softer than her serum enhanced voice.

"Alright. A week, next Saturday at the Stork Club."

Steve's voice comes through, "you got it."

"8:00 on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

The recording stops and she has a hand over her mouth. How foolish of her to have used that phrase. She covers her eyes, mentally berating herself for forgetting.

"It's me." She whispers out. "But it's not me."

He knows that.

Her chest rises and falls with her deep breath. "So do I."

—

"I want this op dead and buried before the 76 hour mark is up!" She orders into her comms. Everyone responds in assent and they start gearing up.

"So," Clint asks. "You do anything fun Saturday night?"

She rolls her eyes, "ha-ha."

"Come on, you're just not going to tell us anything?"

"Since when did married couples have to report their vacations to their friends?"

Clint pouts, "but you guys were gone for over two months!"

She sighs, "don't remind me. We were supposed to be gone for three."

He huffs at her, "can't believe Fury called you two back."

"Yes, well, hostages on a ship will do that."

"Yet you got saddled with me, and he got Nat."

"I am not saddled." She glares at him, "Fury needed us on these separate missions and we got to choose. You and I work well together."

He looks genuinely pleased, and she grins.

—-

68 Hours Later

Peggy hisses as she starts to lift Clint from the concrete floor. The knife to the hip had nicked bone and it bloody hurt.

"Come on," she snaps, "you need to get on your feet, this op is a wash—"

"I'm trying—" Clint bites back.

Another agent comes running, "Quinjet is here, we need to get off-ground."

"Coming." She grunts out, lifting most of Clint's weight, "tell them to start the engines."

"Captain Carter—"

She looks up, another agent appearing looking pale as a ghost, "what?"

Then the woman agent goes silent for a very long moment.

"What?" She snaps, "is someone else hurt?" The woman seems too stunned to speak, aggravatingly slow paced for Peggy's adrenaline at the moment. "Well?" She snaps again, "who the hell was it? Conners? Larks? Kirlen?"

The woman's voice is a whisper but her hearing doesn't miss it. "Captain Rogers, ma'am." Then her eyes flick to Clint, "And Romanoff. They're both missing."

"Ow—" Clint hisses out, and she knows she's gripping the man too hard. But she can't let go, can't think. "How do you know this? I thought we were comms dark with Shield?"

"The news is reporting it."

Then she's pulling the blonde man along as she runs to the quinjet, injury forgotten.

—

Nicholas Fury shot in Captain America's home—

The channel flicks, Jarvis running through all the news stories.

Captain America deemed fugitive from the law—

Massive destruction in downtown DC—

"Stop." She commands, peering closer, "who is that?"

She points to the man that Natasha is swinging around on the shoulders of before being tossed like a rag doll. Then Steve is there, fighting the masked man like his life depended on it. And— her mind whirs. How could he be holding his own so well against Steve?

Then there's a flying man and the helicopter view shows the man and Steve staring at each other before there's another explosion and Steve's being pushed to the ground, muzzle of a rifle to his head.

"Holy shit—" Clint breathes out next to her, "Carter—"

But then he's being loaded into a van and that van disappears.

The news cycles back. The pundits trying to make sense of what's happening.

"We need to get to DC." She snaps, "now."

"We're at least a 12 hour flight." Clint tries to sound calm, but his eyes follow the footage they're showing of Natasha being manhandled into the van, blood seeping from her shoulder.

"And this news footage is from two days ago." Another agent offers quietly, "we'r still dark on the waves from shield this mission. We don't have up to date intel."

Peggy turns, "what do you mean? Why am I being showed old reports! Where's the new news footage!"

"They're not reporting anything else." The woman says, looking at her with respect and a bit of fear, "they don't have anything new to report."

"Breaking News—"

A reporter's voice jumps through the cabin and the screen changes. Jarvis must be pulling it up for them.

"—Rumblings under Shield's Headquarters have caused quite the stir this morning. What at first people thought was an test of the emergency evacuate system is now confirmed to be—"

The woman's voice cuts off and there's a gasp,

"—geez, what is—" The woman is clearly staring at some footage before the screen goes fuzzy.

Another gasp and then they're hearing more talking, like the newsroom studio is getting out of hand

—Oh geez they're shooting each other down!—

Peggy is gripping her chair so hard the leather is ripping under her fingers "what!" She snaps, "who is!" But then the screen fritzes back and it's a shaky camera, pointing up at the Triskelion where three massive. Helicarriers are raining fire and chunks of metal as they sink back towards the ground.

"What the hell—" VClint breathes out, "what is happeninG!"

One hits the Potomac, sending a mighty splash in it's wake and the camera zips over to another, "It's going to hit the building!" The man recording the video claims.

And sure enough, a helicarrier barrels into the building, sending rubble and fire all around. She catches a helicopter making a risky evacuation move but her eye is drawn to the last carrier in the air. Its slowly sinking out of the sky, but that's not what draws her eyes, it's the small figure in what is now a very recognizable uniform, sinking through the air down towards the Potomac too fast.

Her eyes are wide but her captains brain doesn't cease, "adjust your angle, Steve—" she snaps out, "cut the water with your feet—" She knows she sounds insane, giving orders to a man thousands of miles away through a holographic screen, but she can't help it, hitting water at that speed from that height is like hitting cement and… her brain doesn't want to even address the fact that he doesn't even seem to be conscious as he falls.

He's conscious.

He's alive.

He has to be.

"What's that—" Clint's finger points to another figure, not falling, but diving out of thr carrier, too small to tell, the uniform nondescript black except for a silver sleeve. "Who is that?"

But she doesn't know. All she knows is that Steve sinks below the tree line and out of the videos angle and then so doe sthe other man.

And she has a horrible realization she may have just watched the worst video of her life.

"Get going!" She hears Clint snap, "GET THIS JET OFF THE GROUND!"

People are scrambling and they're following his orders but she's still frozen there.

The news anchor is back, reporting with wide eyes and shock on her face but Peggy can't move. Her memory replays the way Steve's body fallen.

How did he get from the van to that Shield Helicarrier?

Clint's hand touches her shoulder to get her attention, "it's going to be alright."

And suddenly she has a sick feeling that the universe just likes to mess with her by getting her closer to what she wants before ripping it away.

She can't answer.

—-

"My name is Sam."

Peggy shakes the man's hand but her eyes dart back to Steve on the bed. "Has he?"

"He's woken up." Sam answers, face turning serious, "he made a joke, so I don't think there's too much brain damage." He grins and she tries to take that in stride but Sam then winces, "sorry, I'm not trying to make light."

"No, I know." She responds, "thank you. So much for being there, I was—"

"On a mission." Sam answers, "I know. When they showed up asking for help I asked where you were and he said you were on a mission."

Peggy frowns, stepping forward and resting a hand on Steve's ankle beneath the blanket, "you asked about me?"

Sam laughs quietly, "You're sorta like a big deal in the world. Don't you know? Lady from another universe who marries Captain America and they fight aliens and bad guys? Yeah, I asked about you."

She can't decide if she's honored about that or not. She rounds the bed and leans over. Her fingers gently trace over the stitches by his mouth before moving to the ones over his eye. "Who did this?" She asks.

"His old war buddy." Sam responds, "he said they used to be f—" he shakes his head, "no, Steve said they are friends. A man named James Barnes."

Peggy gasps, hand yanking back and eyes wide, "what? But he's dead."

"Steve thought so too. But he was taken by some Hydra organization and kept alive as a brainwashed assassin. I think. I haven't heard all the details. Natasha knows them though. She was there."

Peggy knows Natasha is debriefing with Fury as she prepares to go in front of the defense department. They hadn't had a chance to connect. Peggy's boots had hit the ground and she'd come straight here.

"He's a really good guy."

She looks up to see Sam studying Steve. "I know that."

He huffs a laugh, "I know you do. It's just funny, you know? You think you know a person since you've seen them on the news or in the history books. Everyone says he's a good guy. But… It's just crazy to experience it in person." Her throat is tight at the admiration on Sam's face. "I mean, this guy literally took down a whole evil organization while trying to save his friend from brainwashing and while his own organization was out to get him. It's insane. And he just did it. Like, no hesitation, no second guessing. It was incredible to watch."

She slinks into the chair by the bed and rests her forehead gently against Steve's thigh.

"That's Steve."

Sam is nodding. She can't see it but she can feel it. "Yeah." His voice says in awe, "yeah it is."

—

"You're bleeding on me." She looks up, waking from her doze to see a red spot on the ugly yellow hospital blanket. Her eyes snap to Steve's face who seems alert and awake. "Hey baby." He's never called her baby before. But the way he says it is the softest most endearing thing. She moves, hugging him gently and pressing her face against his chest. A hand comes and rests on the back of her head. "Sorry," he whispers, "I tried to contact you but your comms were blocked."

She nods, "I know. We were mission dark. I—" her voice wavers, "I watched you fall into the river on the news." She can feel him grimace. "Are you in pain?"

"You're the one actively bleeding." He says with humor in his tone.

She wipes at the split lip she must have reopened while she slept. "I'm fine."

"You need to go get cleaned up." He says softly, "you're still in mission gear. And I appreciate the concern but I'm fine. I'm already healing, I can feel it."

She nods, "I know, I just needed to hear your voice, see those eyes before I left." His smile is so tender towards her it makes her chest constrict, "I was so worried."

He frowns, "I was too. In the back of my mind I was so worried Hydra was going to mess with you too. Is Clint alright?"

"Bit scrapped up but fine. Natasha is alright as well. And…" she looks at him warily, "your friend Sam told me about Sergeant Barnes."

Steve's head tips back. "Yeah…"

—

They spend the next three months searching for him practically non-stop. She and Sam become good friends and they search the globe for what feels like three times over.

But it's very clear he doesn't want to be found.

Steve is heartbroken about it. He tries very valiantly to keep his demeanor up whenever anyone else is around, but at night when she's lying with him in bed, he holds her tight and grieves. She is always there to listen, to hold, to comfort. His sadness envelopes them, but she allows it to stay for a bit, and then she dispels it. Encouraging him and supporting him.

"As long as you decide to search for him I will be at your side." She says softly one night. She's curled up in his arms, both on their sides as they watch the skyline. They're back at the tower for now.

"Thank you." He whispers back against her neck, "I don't even know what I would do if you weren't here."

She tugs his arms tighter around her, "I don't like to think of you as alone. So I won't even entertain the thought."

He's quiet for a moment before the perpetual question exits his lips, "why doesn't he want to be found?"

Her breathing is quiet. He asks this question so often. Sometimes in hurt, sometimes in anger, most mostly in confused sadness.

"I don't know." She responds as she always does. "But you know what he's been through. We have no idea what mental state he's in."

He nods against her hair, "I know. I know."

—-

"This sort of obsessive behavior is going to wear on his psyche."

She looks at Sam who looks like he's regretting saying it, but she knows it's true. "What am I supposed to do? They were best friends. Steve's always blamed himself for his death, and now he blames himself for the life Barnes was forced to lead. You know him, he's not going to quit."

"I know."

—

"Steve?"

He looks up, tired eyes and a weary expression, "hmm?"

She pauses knowing that he's not going to like what she has to say, "we need to take a break."

"That's fine." He responds, not understanding, "I'll keep looking at the footage, you take as long as you need."

Her eyes flit about the small hotel room and she can hear the sounds of a foreign language being shouted outside. "No." She says softly. "Not that kind of break. We need to go home."

He looks up, surprised and a bit hurt, "I can't give up."

"I'm not asking you to." She walks over, gently threading her fingers through his longer hair and tracing down his skin until his face is cupped in her hands, "you and I both know that he doesn't want to be found right now. He's obviously clear headed enough to be avoiding us. So I say we give him his space. If he has the serum like you suspect, and if he saved you from the river like you suspect—" he tries to interrupt her but she runs a thumb over his lips to quiet him, "—then he has time to spare and he knows something is not right. He's probably trying to figure that out right now. Right? Remember the journal we found?" His eyes look at her sadly. He nods gently. "He's putting the [pieces of his shattered life back together. And all we're doing is chasing him. We're not letting him rest either. So how about we take a short break, and then, when you feel like the time is right, we start our search again."

He wants to argue, he wants to keep going, pushing, never give up. Stubborn and determined and bull headed and a fighter.

But his eyes close and she feels the energy seep out from his chest. "Okay." He whispers. "Okay."

She kisses the top of his head. "Okay."

—

"Seven minutes out—" Steve's voice crackles over the comms, "ready for us?"

"Uh, yeah." Natasha snaps, "you guys need to hurry it up, we're freezing our asses off out here!"

Clint's voice comes over the comms. "I told you the gear functions were wonky. You ignored me. Now you have to be patient."

Natasha was about to snap something back in return but Peggy just shook her head, "he's right."

"Oh don't take his side!"

Peggy laughs.

—

"I'm not the only one seeing this," Tony breathes out, face plate up, "right? Tell me I'm not the only one seeing this."

"Oh, I see it." Bruce responds, eyes wide.

The crackling of the electric fence makes Peggy's ears buzz.

"Who the hell keeps mutated monsters as pets!" Clint whines, leaning on his bow, "can't people just leave well enough alone?!"

Peggy eyes Steve who is grimacing at the sight. They'd gotten a call that a horde of angry "somethings" had been terrorizing a small town. Well it turns out the angry somethings were mutated house animals. Experimented on and then released at odd hours as part of the man's psychotic schemes.

As of now, a dog is growling at them from behind an electronic fence. Except this dog is about 9 feet tall and oozing fog.

Like… misty, werewolf, pirates or zombies are about to appear out of nowhere, fog.

"This is some animal abuse." Natasha grits out, "that man is going to PETA jail for a long time."

"First we focus." Steve responds, tightening his shield. "From what we've gathered there are at least a dozen mutations around. If we can capture them alive and help them then we will. But—" he frowns, "your safety and the safety of the people come first."

"Except the scientist dude." Clint checks, "right?"

"Yeah." Tony answers, his faceplate flicking down, "screw that guy."

She raises an eyebrow and yanks her shield off the magnets on her back, "let's play fetch."

—

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Steve grimaces and sucks in a sharp breath as Bruce prods the wound.

He squints an eye at her but doesn't respond.

"I have the serum too." She adds, "I could have taken that hit!"

He shakes his head, clearing his throat and tensing as Bruce wipes something sharp smelling across the giant scratch lines. "Just 'cause you can, doesn't mean you should."

"I'm capable—"

"You think I don't know that?" He huffs out, trying to seem at ease, "you're my wife, I'm always going to try to protect you."

"I don't need—"

"Geez, Pegs." He cuts in, hands clenching the edge of the medical bed, "you're acting like you wouldn't have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. You were about to get hit, I could take it for you. You're telling me you wouldn't have pushed me out of the way if I had been where you were standing?"

She glares at him and after wrinkling his nose in discomfort as Bruce lays the final bandage, he smiles weakly, "I'd always take your hits if I could. Nothing you say is going to stop me from doing that."

Bruce thankfully ignores them as she glares at him and then kisses the spot just to the side of the wound. Then she gently kisses the bruises on his ribs and finally his lips. "You won't protest if I try to save you?"

Steve laughs, and then winces from laughing, "Peggy you save me every damn day. I'll always need you. No protesting from me."

She hears the door swing shut as Bruce leaves them be and she kisses the skin on his shoulder before laying her head in the crook of his neck, "I hate seeing you hurt."

She feels his jaw twitch with a smile, "I hate seeing you hurt more."

"It's not a competition."

"If it was, I would win."

She laughs, "you're unbelievable."

"Thank you." She rolls her eyes but there's a smile on her lips.

—

*A/N - Lowkey might be writing another chapter of the Suits and Squints fic.

Because threebraincellclowncarpenguin

Who knows.