Steve is surprised to see Clint glaring at him as he exits. Then Clint's eyes shift from lightly accusing to concern. "Steve, you alright?"
"Slept like shit." he snaps back, then he takes a deep breath, the fluttery achy pain in his chest making him wince, "I'm fine."
Clints beside him, "you need something? A doctor?"
"Just-" he huffs, walking back to the fridge and pulling out another water bottle, "no. I need to contact Howard. I will just… Not yet."
"Well you look like shit."
Steve flips him off but doesn't answer. He'd seen his own face in the mirror. He knew.
"I'm calling Howard now."
"I have a speech to give."
"Howard's in California. It will take him a while to get here."
"I'm not pulling him away again. I'm fine."
"Why did you fire Carter?"
Slowly he sets the now mostly empty water bottle down on the counter. An ache separate from his physical heart echoes through him. "She wanted to leave anyway."
Clint scoffs, "oh? Really? And how do you know that?"
"I could just tell."
"Oh, you're a mind reader?"
"No. I'm just not an idiot."
"I disagree."
"La-de-fucking-da." He snaps, downing the last bit of water and tossing it into the trash.
"Steve, I don't know what's up, but something's not right. You're acting way out of character, and you look like someone punched underneath both your eyes. We need to take you to the doctor."
"I'm fine." he insists. His throat feels dry even though he just drank water and he tries to swallow. "I'm fine." Then he closes his bedroom door behind him and heads towards the shower.
"Why did you leave?" Clint's voice through her phone speaker is sharp and accusing.
"He fired me." Peggy responds dryly. Eyeing the people at the airport on her layover back to her little cottage. "That's what people do when they're fired. They leave."
"I thought you were going to talk to him."
"I did. I tried. He repeated his instructions that I was no longer needed."
"But you're not an idiot like he is. You know something's wrong. Something's off. And you still just left."
That stings. Especially because it's true.
"I won't stay where I'm not wanted."
"That's bullshit. You know he wants you here."
"He fired me-"
"He's a fucking mess over here, Carter." Clint snaps, making her go rigid. "He looks like death warmed over. And he won't listen. He won't call Howard. He won't get a doctor. I'm not you. I can't convince him. And I don't know about you but I'd be pretty irritable and unstable if I was under a death threat too."
Her fingers grip the plastic seat rest, "he's got you to protect him."
"Yeah, but I'm not you. He listened to you. And you know his-."
"I've known the man for less than three months." She cuts in, "I don't know him. Perhaps this behavior is normal for him."
"I'm telling you it isn't."
"I'm still fired, Barton."
"And when someone takes a shot at him?"
The image of Steve being shot makes her sick. She has lost "clients" before. It's always horrible. But this would be the worst. "You're perfectly capable of protecting him." she grits out, the words scraping against her throat. "If he gets harmed, that's on your head. Not mine."
"I'm telling Natasha."
"Be sure to tell her 'hello' for me."
Clint just sighs before hanging up. And Peggy doesn't have time to wallow as her boarding group number is called.
"-change is necessary." Steve says, trying to sound confident as his heart rate rises. "I know people resist change because it's unfamiliar, scary." he's gripping the podium too hard, "but so mu-" The word catches in his throat and he swallows heavily before trying again, "-so much good can come from change. And the things that are scary are only so because they are unknown. We need change. We nee-" he can sense the way people's mood shifts, but all he can think is that his mouth is very dry and his eyesight is swimming and he blinks, confused. "We-" Then he squints and tries to figure out why everything looks so muddled and blurry. And then he feels the sharp aching and the breathlessness and the podium is growing taller.
It's a news station at the airport bar that's reporting it. She'd just deplaned and been walking towards the exit when the headline had caught her eye. She can't hear it, as the sound is muted, but she's not the only one watching.
Steve, standing at the podium speaking, and then he looks confused and flushed, gripping the podium almost to keep himself upright. He's still trying to speak, but his eyes are glazed. Then he's slowly paling, eyes rolling back into his head as he sinks, hitting the ground with a thud. Pandemonium erupts in the audience and he's blocked by standing bodies.
The news pundit is back, saying words she can't hear but the headline at the bottom proclaims:
Presidential Candidate Steven Rogers Currently in Critical Condition
The time stamp shows that this happened over an hour ago. While she was on the last leg of her flight.
She's staring at the screen with wide eyes.
It starts playing the footage again and she can't watch, tearing her eyes away and reaching for her phone. She turns it back on, taking it out of the airplane mode she'd set it to after Clint's call.
Immediately messages and calls start flooding her phone. She picks Natasha's and it rings through, no one answering.
She tries Clint. No answer.
She tries James Barnes. No answer.
Then she tries all his team. Morita, Dugan, Jones, Rollins. No one answers. So she grits her teeth and calls Rumlow.
He answers.
"What is happening?" She asks, "is he alright?"
His voice sounds weary, "I don't know Carter. They've had him back there for a while."
"Is it his heart?"
"Yeah. But…" He trails off and she hears the sure sounds of a hospital in the background.
"But what?"
"It's not just his heart."
"What else is it?"
"Poison."
The word makes her entire world go silent. Only a loud buzzing in her ears. Poison is an external threat. Poison is a her problem. Or it was.
"Excuse me?" she manages out, "he was poisoned?"
"That's the rumor. They're flushing his system and trying to assess if it did permanent damage."
"Is the hospital secure?"
"Gangs all here."
"Do you…" she wants to ask. She wants to come back. To check on him.
"Do what you want, Carter." Rumlow says easily, guessing her question "always good to have you on the team. But I heard how it ended so I don't have final say."
It's probably the nicest words she and he have ever exchanged. But he's right. She didn't leave. He fired her.
"Just… call if he or… anyone needs anything. Alright?"
"Will do."
He hangs up and she numbly walks out to the baggage claim.
Steve drags dry eyelids open, practically hissing at how bright the lights are and how much they stab at his brain, headache roaring, squeezing them back closed.
"Don't." someone says, "don't try to open your eyes. Not yet."
He feels a hand on his and he can't form words. So he weakly forms an ASL 'W' then an 'H' then a 'Y'.
"Because you're severely dehydrated and they've taken a big hit."
H-O-W
"You've been poisoned, Steve."
Those words would barely process in a coherent mind. And they don't land at all in his muddled one. So he just tries to form another question. But he can't even manage that.
No one calls her back.
And while she knows she didn't poison him. She can hear the silent accusation that she abandoned him in the absence of calls or texts. Once she'd walked back into her little cottage, she'd realized all the calls and texts from Natasha were from before the speech. She'd probably wanted to know what happened.
Now it didn't matter.
All that mattered was that Peggy had abandoned him and he'd gotten himself poisoned in her absence.
She throws yet another pillow across the room where it lands with a thud on the softened-with-age hardwood floors.
The news has no news. Useless bunch of bastards. They just state that he's in critical condition over and over. The other presidential candidates make nice and make public statements about wishing him well but their underlying triumphant expressions make her practically feral with rage. Maybe she does understand why Steve didn't want his health problems public.
One candidate, a pissant named Gilmore Hodge, undercuts his well wishes with a comment about needing a strong healthy leader. She'd had to take a walk to calm down after that one.
Howard's voice is the first one he hears when he's coherent enough to finally feel awake. It's becoming sort of a tradition. Him in a hospital bed with Howard looming over him.
"Welcome back." Howard says with a grin, punctuated by his trademark mustache.
"Where did I go?"
"Nowhere good, buddy." Howard's face grows serious, "we're going to have to rework a lot of things."
Steve aches, feeling stiff and sore and tired, "like?"
"There's some damage. You're going to need more surgeries and more of that tonic."
Steve groans, "no way."
"I don't care if it taste bad-"
"It taste like tar, Howard"
"Live-saving, heart-healing tar, Steve."
"Someone…" he's trying to remember the voice, "someone said I'd been poisoned."
"Indeed. Like you're in some 1800's Victorian novel. Mercury."
"Mercury?"
"Yeah…"
"What sort of damage does mercury do?" He eyes the whole slew of bags hanging from his IV stand.
Howard sighs, reciting a list like he's reading it off of google. Which he probably has. "Irritation to the eyes, and stomach; chest pain or difficulty breathing, insomnia, irritability, indecision, headache, weakness or exhaustion, and weight loss."
"Geez." He breathes out, "that's what I've been feeling?"
Howard nods, and he lets out a slow breath as he relaxes back into his pillow.
"Clint told me about the pool."
Steve looks up at Howard, "pool?"
"You fired Carter. And were mean about it."
He winces, "I wasn't thinking straight."
"I know. You were poisoned." Howard huffs a laugh, "that's what I'm trying to say. Mercury can cause irrational irritability. Which is why you were such a jerk. Clint's words not mine. Least you have a good reason."
"Good reason?"
"To ask her to come back."
Steve frowns, "I'm not going to ask her back."
Howard frowns in return, "what? Why?"
"Why would I?"
"Because you're in love with her-"
Steve scoffs and that sets off a round of coughing that has his throat on fire. Howard grabs him water and ice chips and he takes a few minutes to compose himself. "I don't love her. I barely know her."
"And yet, I've never seen you with a girl like that. You'd finally met your match in a way that everyone approved of."
Steve brow furrows, "what? What does that mean?"
"I mean everyone saw the connection between you two."
Silence pervades as he can't think of a response. "No…" he finally responds slowly, "there wasn't."
"Listen." Howard says, thumbing towards the door, "believe it or don't, but it was clear as day. You both-"
"She left." Howard pauses. Then starts to say something but Steve cuts in, "if she felt this 'so-called' connection then she would have stayed."
"You fired her."
"As my bodyguard. Not as my friend."
"Clint was pretty vivid with his description of how much of a jackass to her you were at the pool."
Steve wants to defend his action. Remind Howard he was poisoned even though Howard had been the one to alert him to the fact. But he has no excuse. He really had been a jerk. "Which is why I'm not going to beg her to come back," he just responds slowly. "She's free of me now. And happier for it I'm sure since she kept stating how much of a handful I was. I need to focus on finishing this race strong."
"Steve-"
"How much did my ratings fall?"
"Steve-"
"A lot? I bet Hodge was just crowing."
"Steve, that's not-"
"Does the press know it was poison? I don't really want that out there."
"You've got to tell-"
"It's better for people to just think this was a fluke. I don't want to give people ideas."
"Oh for the love of-"
"Is Clint here? Do they know how I got poisoned?"
Thankfully Howard has no other half finished remark to add. He just sighs. "Yeah. I'll get him."
While he's gone Steve takes several deep breaths. He's actually kind of relieved. The thought of the threat hanging over his head had been tiring. Now he knew what the threat was and he could either avoid it or at least be wary.
He pictures her flat expression as he'd dismissed her a second time. He really had been a jerk. Now he at least knows why, or why he was feeling so irritated and therefore behaving jerk-ish.
He'll have to apologize.
The thought of calling her makes him too nervous. He can't explain he was poisoned. That would bring up a whole other host of questions. He'll just email her and apologize for his behavior. No other details needed.
- I just wanted to reiterate my apologies for my behavior. It was rude and unnecessarily dramatic. My apologies. I hope you're able to return to your vacation and enjoy it.
Regards,
S. Rogers
She stares at the words in disbelief. No mention of the poisoning, or the disaster of a speech. Nothing. Just a simple but genuine apology.
What cracks at her chest the most is that there is no hint of him asking her back.
Not even a mention of seeing each other some time in the future.
She shuts her small laptop and decides she needs another walk to calm down.
"I only have three more speeches anyways." Steve insists, "I need to finish!"
"You were poisoned! Like, do you fucking hear yourself?"
"Bucky, I'm fine, it's better than it being my heart, right?"
"Howard said it could have caused permanent damage!"
"He's working up a new tonic to help."
"What if they try again?"
"I'm on a strict regimen." Steve sighs, having already repeated this a million times. "All food and drink are being checked now."
"I can't believe they put it in the fucking water bottles. Like, who the hell does that?"
"Bad people, Buck." Steve huffs, "we've been over this."
"When I get their necks in my grip-"
"What?" Steve laughs, "you were mad about me being mad about you being shot! Now listen to yourself."
"Natahsa's practically feral."
Steve just nods, knowing this already after he overheard her fuming to Bucky outside his door and to the nurses who were trying to bring food not knowing the new protocols.
"Steve?"
He's pulled out of his thoughts to see Bucky looking at him pensively. "Yeah?"
"What happened with Carter?"
"Clint already told you."
"I mean. Yeah. But what happened? I don't understand why you fired her. Even being all poisoned and irritable."
"She didn't want to be here anymore."
"She never said that."
"She never said that specifically."
"Steve."
"I just could tell, alright? I was becoming an undue burden-"
"An undue burden? What the fuck does that even mean? Why are you talking like a Jane Austen character?"
"She kept complaining about how annoying I was!"
"No she wasn't." Steve looks up to see Clint in the doorway, "she never said that."
"Maybe not those words specifically. But she was getting tired of all the extra work. She didn't sign up to take care of some guy suffering from a bum heart."
"You were poisoned!"
"No." Steve says firmly, "before that. My heart was off before. The poison just brought it all to the front."
He doesn't mention how he'd taken her concern as endearing. How he'd thought she actually cared. Now he knows that wasn't true. And it's his own fault. He was a jerk, he was too much. He's always too much work.
"You cared about her." It's not a question, it's a statement from Clint.
"I care about all my employees." He says evenly. "I care about my friends. I genuinely care about everyone. You guys know that."
And they can't even argue. They know that's true. He's thankful that that's at least true.
"But it was different with her." Clint tries to add, "you were different with her."
And Steve feels the fight go out of him as he leans back, sipping on the triply checked water. "Maybe it was." he says softly. "But it's not anymore."
When the call finally comes, she feels trepidation when she slides to answer.
"Hello?"
"I'm pissed."
"I know."
"You left."
"He fired me."
"He didn't hire you, Carter. I did."
"He was very sure."
"He was poisoned out of his damn mind, Carter."
"I didn't know that-"
"But you knew something was wrong! You knew that wasn't him! You knew he was obviously feeling some sort of way and you just LEFT."
Peggy stays silent. Natasha's right. "I don't know him well enough to know any of that." She lies.
"It was Mercury. In case you cared."
"Mercury?"
"The poison they used against him."
"Geez… Is he alright?"
"Howard's all positive. James is beside himself. But he does seem okay. There's some damage but Stark says not to worry, he'll get it sorted out. I hope that's true."
"As do I."
"I know why you. left."
Her heart hammers, blood rushing in her ears. She hates being known. It's too terrifying. Too vulnerable.
"I left because he fired me."
"No. You left because you actually allowed a connection to form with another human being and you got scared."
"Natasha. You don't even know me—"
"Okay." Natasha bites out, surprising her. "Who does?"
"What?"
"Who does know you?"
There's a long dreadful pause where Peggy can't think of a single person. "I—" But there's no one. No one she's allowed. No one still alive.
There's a sad sigh, "exactly. Steve is probably the first person who even barely got behind your marble facade and the second things get too personal—"
"I was fired."
"You called him Steve." Her eyes narrow. Barton. "You started to see him as a person. Not just a job. So you dipped."
"I'm not sure why any of this matters!" She grits out. "Steve was poisoned. Isn't that the whole point of my reason for being there? I didn't keep him safe. Now you're there and he is well protected and his campaign trail is almost finished. You don't need me and he doesn't want me there."
"Carter—"
She hangs up. Leaving the conversation just like she leaves everything else.
—
He fields a lot of questions from the press. He's able to answer none of the questions with real answers and all of them with platitudes about how he is fine. He doesn't lie and say it was severe dehydration or food poisoning. He just insinuates that so they'll stop asking. The hospitals all sign NDAs and his team rolls their eyes at his insistence that it all be kept under wraps.
Howard asks if he wants to stop. If he wants to be done. He would let him out of their deal. Would let Steve step out of the race.
But Steve doesn't start things and quit. So he agrees to daily doses of the tonic, oversight from Howard, and the never ending berratment for more self preservation from Bucky.
The heart medication rattles in its bottle as he pours one out, downing it with pre-approved water.
—
She eyes the website, lips pursed as the poll numbers roll in. Steve's numbers had taken a dip after the incident. The "faith of the people" wavering in his "display of weakness". But he'd slowly been gaining traction again as his last two speeches were well written and well "performed".
She watched them, observing his behavior carefully and wondering if he might have another episode, but no, he seems perfectly alright and she breathes a sigh of relief every time he signs off and the news takes over.
Neither Natasha or Clint text her updates which pisses her off to no end. But she knows it's their way of saying 'you're either with us or against us'. And she can't bring herself to admit she wants to be by his side.
It's funny, while she'd been on his team, she had kept her level of professionalism and making the clear distinction between her job and their growing friendship. But now that she was no longer his "employee" she's having a hard time keeping that boundary mentally.
First thing in the mornings she checks the polling sites. Then the news. Then other news stations. Then the news stations that are politically opposite to see what shit they're trying to throw at him now. Then she checks his public social media and then she throws her phone onto her couch and gets up to make a cup of coffee. Knowing she'll be back to check on it in less than an hour and unable to keep herself from doing so.
—-
Steve is in a terrible mood, although he does a much better job of hiding this one, since it's not poison induced.
He misses her.
At his side, in the airports, at the hotels, eating quietly alongside him. He misses the smell of her perfume or shampoo, he never was sure which it was. He misses her banter with Clint and Morita. She misses the way she would roll eyes at Rumlow.
He's mad at himself for firing her. He's mad that she left.
Natasha had told him that she'd called Peggy and told her what happened. Bene mentioned the poison adding to his behavior. He'd sighed at the lack of privacy but had also been a little bit secretly relieved. "I wrote her an email apologizing too." Steve tells Natasha, "I acted badly."
Natasha eyes him, "you apologized? And didn't even mention teh poison?"
"I jsut wnated her to know taht my behavior had been unnacceptable—"
"I need to make a call."
Then she'd left and Steve had been confused. But when she'd come back more annoyed than when she'd left, he let it be.
That had been over a week ago.
Now he was approaching the last speech of his trail and he was sitting at home, grateful they'd planned the final one to be in Manhattan.
"Everything is clear for tomorrow." Steve looks up to see RUmlow at his doorway.
"Okay, thanks Rumlow."
"Need anything before the shift change?"
"No thanks. Glad to be off the babysitting clock here soon?" Rumlow grins, a half lipped smirk that Steve huffs a laugh at. "Sorry I've been such a pain."
"Nah," Rumlow says with a chuckle, "you're much nicer than the jackasses I usually work for." He smirks again then is gone.
He likes his team. His team is great. He doesn't need her here for his team to function well.
He wants her here simply to be here. He just misses her.
But now that he knows she knows he was poisoned and she never responded to his email… he knows that she does not miss him in the same way. Or at all.
So that's that.
—-
Peggy listens to the thunderous applause at the closing of Steve's final speech on the trail. He's waving to the crowd and Clint is there ushering him off the stage.
He disappears from sight and she clicks off the TV. His numbers are up in the polls. So high that he just might actually win the whole damn thing.
She's already turned down two other job offers. She could take them. Even should take them so she can stop thinking about this whole stupid blip in her life.
But the way the park lights had glinted off his hair that very first outside walk they'd had sticks in her mind. The way he'd been vulnerable with her. The way he'd trusted her so implicitly even if he rolled his eyes. The fact that she couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was stealing tools from Howard Stark only to end up becoming great friends with him. The man was an entire mystery. And yet he was plain as day, so open and trustworthy. How could those two things be?
Everyday she thinks about sending a text, or replying to the email, or simply calling.
Hey, I know I abandoned you at your most vulnerable, want to have a chat?
She huffs, snatching her water bottle off the counter and downing a swig.
—-
"Okay, for your three week break—" Natasha says, "where do you want to be?"
"Somewhere quiet." Steve responds, eyeing the map, "somewhere I don't have to do anything but just be."
"We thinking cabin in the mountains or beach cottage?"
"Beach."
"Got it. Any activities?"
"No, just be away from it all."
Natasha snorts but thankfully doesn't comment further. "Alright, I'll alert the team. Probably take half. Sound good?"
"Sure."
"Any preference?"
"Nope."
"Okay, I'll get it all set up. Howard has given you everything you need?"
Steve wrinkles his nose, "yes, I have the stupid tonic supply."
Natasha grins, "great."
—-
"You need more sleep."
Steve looks up at Clint who is eyeing him with concern. "I know." Steve responds. "I swear I lay in bed forever but just can't seem to fall asleep. I swear I'm trying."
"How is vacation making you more tired?"
Steve laughs, "I don't know. It's a phenomenon I can't explain."
"You ready to get back at it when we get home?"
"We will see. I have no idea how the debates will go."
"You'll do great."
Steve shrugs. He hopes so.
—
Peggy does not like the way she can tell Steve is clearly tired behind that podium. Maybe she wouldn't know if she didn't know him that well. But the stylist always put him in that color shirt to detract from the dark circles under his eyes. And that hairstyle always signified they were trying to make him look fresh, vibrant.
She studies him with narrowed eyes on her small TV screen. Why is he still so tired?
She stands, slowly and with nerves firing through her chest.
Why is he still so tired?
Like a zombie she slowly stares at the TV while she walks towards the counter where her phone is plugged in and charging.
She dials Natasha's number.
She doesn't answer.
Which makes sense since she's probably on guard for Steve at the moment.
Steve looks tired. He was tired before the incident.
He was not tired when she first met him.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she slowly opens her search engine and googles "symptoms of mercury poisoning"
Her heart pounds as she clicks through different sites and reads more an more about what mercury can do.
But she keeps returning to the first result.
Irritation to the eyes, and stomach; chest pain or difficulty breathing, insomnia, irritability, indecision, headache, weakness or exhaustion, and weight loss.
His eyes had always been so tired and dry. He was tired, said he couldn't sleep. He was definitely eating less and not feeling his best even if he pretended he was fine. And then… the irritability was raging at the hotel.
But it wasn't just then. Those symptoms, at least most of them, had been present almost the entire campaign trail.
What they'd written off as stress or later heart trouble could have been—-
She gasps, phone dropping from her hand and clattering to the counter as she covers her mouth,
—had he been being poisoned the whole time?
—-
After the room has been cleared, Steve shrugs the bag off his shoulder and slowly makes his way into his bedroom. He barely remembers stripping off the suit and dumping it on the floor before rinsing the day off him. He's so tired. So unbelievably tired, but the dread of knowing when he lays down he won't be able to actually fall asleep fills him.
The debate yesterday had gone well. He'd stood his ground, said his peace, and gotten off that stage as quick as possible.
Maybe he would be lucky enough to be selected as the party's leading candidate, but he doesn't know. The polls were running him and the other candidates pretty closely.
New candidates like him hardly ever get traction. Only with Howard's money is he really able to make a stand. He wishes it was on merit alone, but that's just not how politics works these days.
It's a long process, drying his skin and hair and slipping into pajama pants. He feels too warm for the temperature of the room which he has cranked way down.
Steve lays on the bed and closes his eyes, pretending he'll be able to sleep.
Any minute now.
—
Rollins is in the lobby of the building and sees her first.
"Carter?"
She nods, walking up to and then directly past him.
He snags her bicep, halting her, "what are you doing here?"
She very slowly looks at him, directly in the eyes, then her eyes narrow and she looks down at his fingers grasping her arm before flicking them back up to his face.
He lets go.
She continues without saying a word.
Morita sees her next as she gets off on his floor and then Clint at his door. "Carter?" They both ask in surprise.
"What are you doing here?" Clint asks after.
"Is Rogers here?"
They nod and she gestures for them to follow her. They oblige and she steps into his living room. "It's freezing in here." She comments.
"He's been feeling warm." Clint answers slowly as if that thought is just striking him as odd.
She turns to them and gestures to herself, "I've made a grave miscalculation. We all have."
"Which is?" Morita asks.
"The incident was not a one time event."
"Incident?"
"The poisoning."
Clint's eyes widen, "excuse me?"
"Morita, would you mind waking up Mr. Rogers?"
The man nods and takes off, and as she's about to explain her thoughts to CLint when the door opens, Rumlow enters, a bag of supplies in his hand. He stops, looking surprised to see her, "Carter?"
"Rumlow."
"What brings you here?"
"Suspicion." She states, about to turn back to Clint when she catches the shift in his throat.
"Suspicion?"
"Yes."
"About what?"
"I'm about to explain."
Rumlow sets the bag of whatever down and comes over, arms crossed over his chest.
"I believe Steve has been being poisoned since the minute we left New York."
They both show surprise and she holds up her hands to allay their questions she can see coming. "I've just realized that all the symptoms of Mercury poisoning could explain all the ways we thought he was off long before South Carolina."
"If he'd been being poisoned the whole time," Rumlow starts, "wouldn't he be dead by now?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps dosage or frequency plays a part, but I—"
"Carter?"
She looks over, Steve standing in his doorway, shirtless in pajama shorts, incision dark against his light skin, hair mused and eyes circled with dark purple.
"Mr. Rogers." She says quietly.
"What are you doing here?"
"I've come to say that I believe the threat was and is bigger than we realize." She gestures to him, "I believe you are still being poisoned."
They all look at her like she'ss crazy, "what?" He says, "no, I'm not."
"We check everything." Morita says, slipping out from behind Steve, "like everything."
"I'm well aware." Peggy starts, "but being thorough is not the same as being correct."
"Everything I consume is tested before I eat it or drink it." Steve says, "everything."
"There has to be something." She says firmly, "something—"
"Pe— Carter." He grits out, correcting himself, "I'm not being poisoned. I was way worse when—"
"No." She says with a wave of her hands, "you were more irrational, yes, perhaps the dosage they gave you was higher in those water bottles." He seems stunned she knows the details, "but I'm telling you, this tiredness, and—" she gestures to his eyes, "insomnia, correct? Have you been an insomniac your whole life? Or just since this campaign trail started?"
"I mean…"
"Even from that morning in the apartment, you've been different. And I chalked it up to stress and not knowing you. But now I'm sure there's something else at play. This is the long game that they were trying to distract us from." She turns to CLint, "call Natasha. Tell her to come over here."
He nods, grabbing his phone.
"Carter." Steve tries again, "I'm telling you. I don't consume anything that hasn't been tested."
"What about lotions? Or chapstick?"
He frowns, "I don't think it's a topical poison."
Topical.
Oral.
Then it hits her.
"What about your medication?"
Steve's head tilts, "what about my medication?"
"Your heart medication. Have you tested it? When's the last time they ran a toxicology report on you?"
"Why would I need to? It comes directly from Howard, and unless you're thinking he's poisoning me—"
She turns to Morita and points, "call a trusted doctor or Howard, we need to run a to—"
She hears a big sigh and then feels the cold press of a gun to her back, "alright."
Steve's eyes widen and he steps forward, but Rumlow shakes his head and cocks the hammer back, "stay where you are or her spine learns what it's like to be scattered."
"I should have known." She snaps, angling her head to see him, "you always were a snake in the grass."
"Ah- ah- ah—" Rumlow teases, "don't start calling me mean names just cuz we've been getting away with this for months and you're only just catching up now."
"Fight me like a man then." She hisses out, "a fair fight."
He grabs her hair, yanking it back and making everyone in the room tense, "don't think your little snappy remarks are going to help you this time." He smirks at her, then points to Clint with the gun before resting it back against her spine, "everyone's weapons on the ground. Now."
Clint and Morita comply immediately which makes her furious. "Don't—" she tries but he yanks her hair harder, causing her to stumble backwards.
"Stop—" she hears Steve command, "they've laid them down. Let her go."
"No can do, prez." He pulls her a step closer to the door, "she's my ticket out of here."
"Why reveal yourself," Clint asks, looking at Rumlow in disbelief, "why not just pretend you didn't know what was happening?"
Rumlow laughs, then steps closer to the door, angling her to be a shield, then he pulls her head to the side, allowing her to see his face, "how long until you think you would have figured out it was me?"
She looks at him. He's known Clint, Morita, Dugan, Natasha, James, Howard, Denier, Jones for going on over a decade. Only Rumlow and Rollins are relatively new.
"Not long."
He nods. "And that's without you checking security cameras and tracking my past record down. My real record. Not the one handed to your little red-headed guard dog initially. Easy once I had a man in on Fury's initial team."
Steve eyes are on her, she can feel it, but she's keeping her eyes on Rumlow, "so what now? What was your game?"
"Not my game." He huffs, "I don't give a rat's ass who wins. I'm just being paid to make sure this one doens't make it to November."
"You've had plenty of time to kill me." Steve says, "why not a bullet to the brain?"
Rumlow nods, "the option was tossed around. But no, too messy. Makes you too much of a martyr in the eyes of the public. But also then there's inquiries, investigations, police get involved. No, this was better."
"I'm lost," CLint says, "you thought there wouldn't be any repercussions to him being poisoned?"
Rumlow sighs as if annoyed, "no, see, that was a big misunderstanding." He huffs, looking at his watch, then pulling his walkie up and speaking into it, "Hey, Dugan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to need a transport. Carter is here and she wants to test Steve's medication. She thinks it's been tampered with. I'm going to accompany her. Can you arrange?"
"On it."
"Let me know when it's here."
"Roger that."
She makes an angry sound in her throat and he laughs.
"I'm still lost on the poison aspect." Clint says, his eyes floating over the room looking for a projectile to throw.
"That was not supposed to happen." Rumlow explains, looking calm and collected, "sure my bosses were getting antsy and I told them to be patient. But—"
"Rollins." She looks over at Steve who looks sad, "Rollins poisoned my water."
"Bingo." Rumlow grins, "See? This is why I'm not going to stick around and pretend I don't know anything. Once you guys actually start paying attention it will all become incredibly clear. The best laid plans are. Simple and easy."
"Why?"
"Why kill you?"
Steve frowns, "no, I mean why the mess up with the water bottles?"
"I didn't knwo it was happening at first, but then I let it blow up in their faces, and well it helped our cause anyways because then Carter dipped and thing s became a lot easier for me." He grins at her and she jabs him hard with her h elbow. He groans and quick as a flash whips the butt of the pistol into her ribs and then points it under her chin.
"Listen here, you little bitch I want to get out of here, but I'll happily go to prison knowing you're brains get splattered on his ceiling."
"Brock." Steve's voice cuts through, "no one has to die here—"
"That's where you're wrong." Rumlow says, still holding the gun to her jaw, "you can't be allowed to run anymore. They want you out of the race."
"Again, then why not just kill me?"
"Had to look natural, had to make you seem weak or unfit. Had to not make you a martyr for the people."
"So why not just threaten me to begin with?"
Rumlow laughs, "we did, remember? The hate mail, the death threats? Hell, wasn't until we took a shot at Barnes that we actually made progress." Steve's eyes grow huge and he steps forward ready to wring Rumlow's neck but the man shoves the gun against her harder, pushing her head back with the force and with him still gripping her hair, "you want her to lose her pretty little face, Rogers?"
Steve stops. And Rumlow nods, "that's a good dog."
"There won't be a place on this earth that you can hide from me, Rumlow." Steve's voice has more fury in it than she's ever heard.
Rumlow grins, "we'll see." Then he looks at his watch again, "you know what's the funny part?"
None of them answer, because there is nothing humorous to them. "Mercury comes in different forms right? But a common form is powder. And you sprinkle some on top of pills in a med bottle and it just blends right in because pills already let off their own little dust coating when they rattle around in there.'" He laughs, "I would always have a little chuckle to myself remembering you dutifully taking that pill everyday. Poisoning yourself at the same time." He lets out a hearty chuckle, "hilarious. And you were all so confused. None the wiser. It was great while it lasted."
"Okay." Steve says, "you're right. That's hilarious." His voice is very flat but he's watching the gun at her throat, "What can I do to get you to release her? You want me out of the race? Done. I'll drop."
"No, she's my freedom bargaining chip now."
"We will let you go—"
"Steve!" Three voices chime over his but he waves them to be quiet, taking a step forward, "you take Rollins and you run. We don't pursue. You just let her go and you can go. Win-win."
"Tempting." Rumlow says in a voice that makes her roll her eyes, "but how do I have a guarantee you'll drop if I just leave? if I don't succeed at my goal they're going to kill me anyway. Got a better offer than that?"
Steve looks ready to say something, but Rumlow's walkie chirps.
"Rides here."
Rumlow grins, tightening his grip on her hair, "Oops. Times up."
The look on Steve's face as Rumlow closes the door behind her will haunt her for a very long time.
Steve hears the door click shut and Peggy's eyes had been calm. How could she be calm?
He steps forward, then another, hauling the door open ready to follow Rumlow but he stops. The hallway is already empty.
"Steve."
He turns to see Clint with a walkie, "you want me to have radio someone?"
"He'll hear." Steve responds, "call Dugan on his cell. Don't let them get in tah car." He feels fear grip him and he's about to step out when he turns back. "Do you think he will actually kill her if I go after him?"
"Yeah." Morita says quietly, "kinda what he's known for. It's why he's on the team to begin with."
The thought chills him. But he still has to try.
Once they get down two floors through the stairwells, Rumlow exits onto the level and then leads her to the second bank of elevators. And she knows he's smarter than she ever gave him credit for.
"You're not taking me to the car that Dugan called. Are you?"
"What? I look like I was born yesterday to you?"
She doesn't answer.
Everyone is on the phone around him, calling in reinforcements and creating a blockade around the city and using Howard's unending resources to try to find and ensure Peggy's safety.
He just stands there, feeling helpless, knowing the one thing he wants to do will get shut down immediately.
Then he pauses.
Only if he asks.
Steve looks around, they're all distracted and busy. He hasn't held a gun in a while but he knows the muscle memory is still there. He grabs Dugan's holster that rests on the command table and a pistol that fits. He fits a box of ammo into his pocket and then looks up to see if anyone is paying attention.
Nope.
So he very nonchalantly walks towards the lobby door and out to the street.
Rumlow's on the phone as she sits restrained on the floor. He'd been smart and thoroughly checked her for weapons or even anything sharp. So she's rather helpless at the moment, although if he gets in range of her teeth she's planning on going for it.
"You got it boss." He says, hanging up. "Come on, little guard dog, time to move."
"To where?"
He just laughs in response.
—
His phone rings.
He sees Howard Stark and he grimaces. He's ignored all the other calls from his team, but Howard could track him in seconds. So he answers.
"Hello?"
"So what's your plan? Walk through Brooklyn hoping to find them?"
Steve eyes the street camera and knows he's being watched. "I wouldn't say I had a plan, more like I needed to do something."
"You're an idiot. And your team is losing their minds."
"Tell them I'm fine, would you?"
"Are you fine? Because right now the jury's out."
"Listen," Steve says firmly, "You know what I'm actually capable of, right? You've seen me in action."
"Your heart is at a much more unstable place-"
"Okay but I'm not planning on running a marathon. You know I can help. My team wouldn't let me."
"Because they could handle it without you."
"I'm not just going to sit idly by-"
"Again. So what's your plan?"
"You can track me."
"Yep."
"Can you track them?"
"By facial recognition?"
"I mean, we know by the footage they got in a nondescript black sedan."
"You want me to track every nondescript black sedan in New York?"
"No." He grits out, "I just want a general direction, I'm the arrow, point me."
"Your team already has that footage."
"Yeah but they're not going to share it with me. Are they?"
"You want Natasha to get pissed at me?"
"I want to save the life of the person who has saved mine. A few times now. Can't I be allowed to do that?"
"Your team already has the car being tracked and they're formulating a plan."
"So you think I should quit? Walk back and let them take care of it?"
He hears a deep sigh and then a quiet, "head north at the next light. I'll send the directions to your phone. Don't die or I'll have to deal with Bucky and he's worse than Natasha. Understood?"
Steve grins, "understood."
"I'm going to be killed anyway." She says simply, sitting in the back seat of a new car that's as nondescript as the last, "aren't I?"
Rumlow huffs a laugh, "I mean, that's my vote." He grabs her and hauls her out of the car and through the back doors of a dilapidated building. She rolls her eyes, why is the villain's lair always either dilapidated or gaudy to high heavens?
He shoves her roughly down onto the ground, walking to the windows and shutting the blinds. Then he walks back over and starts checking her restraints. Adding them back to her legs.
"Can I know the big plan then? I'm truly just curious."
"I swear you think I'm the biggest idiot in the world."
She shrugs as best as possible, "Well-"
Her jest is cut off by a backhand to the face. It whips her head to the side so fast she sees stars and the pain throbs, jaw aching.
"Keep it up." Rimlow says with a pleased grin, "I like having a reason."
She spits out blood, her lip bleeding, flowing down her chin, "that the best you got?" She glares at him.
He raises his hand and she doesn't flinch, expecting the blow, instead his boot shoots out, catching her in the chest and probably- no for sure cracking a rib. She hunches over, rolling onto her side, unable to catch herself. She tries to suck in air but it's painful.
"What was that?" He asks, putting a hand to his ear as if he's having a hard time hearing her, "you say something?"
"No wonder you're single." She hisses out.
He grabs her hair and pulls her up by it, causing her to shriek in pain as it tears at her scalp, "You think you're so fucking funny. Thought you were all big stuff protecting Rogers when I was under your nose the whole damn time. You were too busy making moon eyes at that idiot that you missed me playing you like a fiddle." And then, more than the violence, he does something she hates, kisses her cheek and then pats it like she's a dog. "I can't wait to see that idiot's face when he finds out you're sunk."
She wants to wipe her face but she doesn't have any hands. "Please-" she bites out, "you won't last long enough for that to happen." She imbues her words with venom even if she secretly isn't sure about their accuracy. "And besides, as long as he lives and wins this presidency, I don't care."
He looks at her like she's stupid. "You think he's going to keep running if you're in danger." he scoffs, "you're dumb and blind." She starts to snap back but he continues, "you know how fucking sad he was when you were gone? How hard his stupid team tried to get him to call you to come back? How much he refused because he said he didn't deserve to ask you back after how he behaved? Even though that was the higher dosage of the poison causing that?" He laughs, "and you just left like he was nothing." He laughs, "it was great stuff. Best reality TV there is."
"He'll be fine." She spits out, "can we get this over with?"
"Fine?" He guffaws, "you think Steve fucking Rogers is going to be fine knowning he was the cause of death of someone he loved?"
-loved-
"No." the man says firmly with a grin. "Fine is not the word I use to describe how he'll be." Rumlow flips on the TV, "so now, we wait for the announcement that he's dropping out of the race and then I "accidentally" kill you anyway for being such a bitch. Sound like a plan?"
She glares at him.
He smirks, "good."
"Unfortunately for the both of us, there aren't cameras on streets outside the cities. Especially back roads with no street lights. I don't know where they went."
He closes his eyes and tries to keep the fear down, "so what now?"
"You do what the demands say. Rumlow left very thorough instructions."
"I'm not announcing those lies. I'll just drop out of the race."
"They're very specific. If you don't have an embarrassing or humiliating reason for dropping then it doesn't count… They'll kill her anyway."
"There has to be a better option." Steve groans, "I don't even understand. Poison me but then leave me be and take her? What's the overall game plan?"
"Contrary to popular media, not all villains are smart. They could very well be making decisions on the fly. Especially if they're dealing with idiots like Rumlow and Rollins."
"Rumlow is not an idiot." Steve admits angrily, "hence why he's got Peggy and we have no idea where he is."
"True, but I'm not about to give any credit to that jackass."
"Howard, there has to be a way. Can't you run like facial recognition on that car? If he is still driving or keeping her somewhere, wouldn't the license plate on the car pop up eventually?"
"Facial recognition on a car-" Howard snorts, "but yeah I know what you mean. I'll keep my search going, but the deadline is approaching."
Steve looks down at his watch. He had to announce before the 6 o'clock news or they would kill her. At least that's what Rumlow's hastily penned instructions had said when they found them on the driver's side seat of the first black sedan.
"I know." He sighs. "Just keep searching."
Peggy watches the TV with trepidation. Waiting for a breaking news story or something to pop up.
Rumlow's on the phone constantly. She tries to hear the other voice but no luck.
When the 6 o'clock news comes and goes and Steve's announcement is nowhere to be seen, she can't decide if she's surprised or relieved.
Rumlow is furious. He glares at her and then shakes his head, "guess he doesn't give a shit about you after all."
"Better call your boss and tell him you failed."
"You still die."
And suddenly, that doesn't matter too much. "Oh well. Least you'll die too."
Rumlows boot stomps on her ankle and she cries out in pain, feeling the way it cracks under his force and weight. "How bout you shut up unless you want me to do that to your face!"
"You're going to kill me anyways." She hisses out, teeth gritted in pain, "what does it matter?"
His glare is fierce as he picks up his phone and starts to make yet another call. He mutes the TV and heads to the small adjoining kitchen. They're in some small abandoned house off a back road somewhere. She distinctly hears the words, "can I please kill her now?" before he exits out the back door.
Her eyes close as she tries to grapple with the pain in her ankle.
"Thought he'd never leave," a voice whispers.
Her eyes fly open to see Steve, crouching in front of her.
Se's about to speak when he puts a finger tohis lips, "not now." then without much effort he lifts her into his arms and quietly makes his way down a hallway to a small bedroom. He looks out the already open window, having obviously climbed in from there, and looks round for something to cut her restraints with.
"Steve-" she says, "how did you find me?"
The door from the kitchen slams and he straightens, "time to go." Then he lifts her and practically tosses her out the window onto a large bush. It scrapes at her and hurts but she knows it's better than landing on the ground.
"CARTER!" she hears Rumlow's bellow.
Steve lands deftly beside her in the bush. "Hold on,"' he says quietly, grabbing her foot, and yanking a shoe off. She almost starts to protest but he throws it in an arc, where it lands in the middle of the gravel street. Then he's throwing her over his shoulder, "stay quiet." he commands and then he walks, balancing on rocks, stones or patches of grass, circling behind the house and heading towards the treeline. He picks a thick patch of bushes to hide them in. She's definitely all scratched up but they're well hidden for the moment.
"We should run-" she whispers.
"No, he's got a car and we don't." She stays quiet, realizing he already has a plan.
Rumlow is in a rage. Shouting her name and tearing through the house. Then he slams outside, looking for her and getting more angry by the second. He freezes, his eyes catching the one shoe in the middle of the road. She gets it now. It looks like she'd tried to run and lost a shoe in the process. Rumlow gets angry, flying back to his car and turning it on, peeling out of the driveway and down the direction they arrived from.
Once the dust settles Steve relaxes, looking at her and then frowning, "are you alright?"
She lets out a soft laugh, "I'm perfectly fine now. How did you find me?"
"Never underestimate the technological power of Howard Stark." He grins, "and nosey old people in small towns."
"Noted."
His hand comes up and he cups her chin with his forefinger and thumb, the latter barely passing over the bruise and split in her lip, "that looks painful."
She wants to laugh, "I'll survive." She glances back towards the road, "we should run, then when he realizes he's been tricked we will be far away from here."
"No need." Steve says, standing and gently lifting her up, he carefully carries her back into the house and finds a pair of scissors to cut the thick zip ties around her ankles and wrists. She groans as she stretches, free for the first time in hours. She hears a car pull into the driveway and a thrill of adrenaline runs through her.
"Don't worry." Steve says with what sounds like a resigned tone, "it's just Nat."
The door slams open and indeed the redhead enters. But instead of an "are you okay?" Or any other thing rational, she stomps straight up to Steve and punches him hard in the arm, "You asshole! Don't you EVER do that to me or James again! Do you even have any idea how worried we were! You promised not to pull this shit anymore! You promised!"
Steve rubs at his arm and sighs, "I know, but it was important." He gestures to Peggy and Natatsha throws up her hands.
"What did you do?" Peggy asks, looking at them both curiously.
"He grabbed a gun and took off." Natasha reveals, "without telling a single soul! Just left, right after you'd been taken. And then corralled Howard into helping him and putting himself in so much danger I'm surprised he isn't dead! In fact, I sort of wish things had gone wrong to teach him a lesson!"
"Gee, thanks." Both she and Steve say at the same time. She laughs and he looks at her and smiles. Which makes her smile back. Her lip hurts but she can't find it within her to care.
"So after Howard figured out which highway they'd taken and what small town they were in, Steve just started to ask the people in the little downtown if there were any vacant homes around. They were happy to oblige for the tall handsome blonde man."
"Oh come on-"
"That's literally what that old lady told me, Steve." Clint grins, "and so then he checked the three houses they told him about and found you at the third one." Clint gestures to the team, "finally he called and told us where he was and we called the police for a road blockade, which Rumlow ran straight into, and voila. Idiot caught, case closed."
"Is the rat talking yet?"
"Not yet." Natasha says with a frown, "but Fury's working on him. We will see. Rumlow is smart. His only bargaining chip for not going to prison for forever is telling us what he knows."
"You're not going to release him." Peggy says, "even if he does tell, right? I mean, he tried to kill Steve-"
"He kidnapped you-" Steve adds
Clint butts in, "is it kidnapped if it's an adult?"
"Barton, I swear-"
The archer laughs and she does as well.
After all of the hullabaloo settles, and the press is told the story in its entirety (which boosts Steve's numbers to his incredulity) she's not sure what to do.
She is still technically fired…
She's staying with Natasha and the red-head gives her the eye one evening after they'd had dinner as a whole group at Steve's.
"So what are you going to do?"
Peggy feigns ignorance, "about what?"
"You going to actually commit to staying somewhere?" Peggy glares at her and she shrugs, "just calling it like I see it."
"He hasn't expressed interest in having me back on the team."
Natasha rolls her eyes, "I would disagree. Him chasing down a psycho who abducted you shows a lot of interest." Natasha grins, "but not about the team."
Peggy stays silent, unsure how to respond to what she knows Natasha is implying.
The woman brings over a water bottle and sits beside her, tapping the cast on her ankle. "What do you want?"
And the stupidest sentence exits her mouth. "I don't think they'll let a British woman be First Lady."
Natasha gawks at her and then lets out a genuine full bodied laugh. Once she's finally finished and Peggy has chuckled at the comment herself, Natasha nudges her gently, careful to avoid the cracked rib, "anyone tries to argue about that they'll have me to deal with."
Peggy grins, "what a lucky girl I am to have a friend like you."
Natasha grins, "you say that like you just figured it out?"
Peggy smirks and Natasha rolls her eyes.
Steve stands outside Natasha's door. Clint's in the hallway, pretending to be on chalant about being there but it doesn't matter, it can't be avoided. Now that he's his party's chosen candidate, he has even more security.
His knuckles rap against the wooden door and soft footsteps approach the door. Natasha eyes him with a raised eyebrow and points to the couch where he can see Peggy sitting, a bowl of something in her lap. Natasha is gracious enough to leave, closing the door behind him and he uses all his bravery to walk over to the couch and catch her attention.
She looks briefly surprised, but pleased which is a relief.
"Steve," she says softly, the name sounding wonderful in her normal voice, "how are you?"
"I'm doing well." he answers, "you?"
"Healing nicely."
There's an awkward silence where he's more nervous than he can remember being even after getting shot at in that park.
She eyes him and raises an eyebrow, "something you needed from me?"
"I-" he clears his throat, "actually yeah, I had a question."
"Oh," she tries to hide her amusement while setting her bowl of pasta to the side to give him her full attention, "and what is this question?"
Steve sits on the coffee table, avoiding Natasha's stack of gun magazines.
He works up all his courage. "Well, I was wondering…"