Something heavy crashes into her- no… it wraps itself around her, blocking most of the heat and debris.
She and her protector hit the ground hard, the air being crushed from her chest as smoke and heat fill the air.
She's pretty sure she passes out for a long while.
"Carter." Something is grabbing her, pressing against her neck hard enough that she wants to swat it away but can't figure out which limbs are her own. Whose limbs are the ones weighing heavy on her? "She's got a pulse! Get Phillips on the phone!" Another hand is grasping under her arms, "come on, Carter, wake up."
Thompson. She should be annoyed that he's grabbing her. But she only feels relief not being under the heavy weight. What was the heavy weight?
"She alright?" Another voice says.
"Burns, lacerations-" a pause, "her hands are bleeding something wild. No idea why." something's shuffling her head around, "no obvious head wounds or gsw's. Put her in an ambulance though. We need her awake to know what she knows…" then a long sigh, "sheez, this went to shit."
She can't help but agree as she passed into another set of arms.
It's like the adrenaline and knowledge of everything that happened hits her all at once. She sits up, as if rising from the dead, eyes wide, heart thumping. Her monitors are beeping at her but she can't process that.
Steve.
Steve.
Where was he, was he… alive?
She starts ripping at wires and leads and she hisses at the pain her hands shock up her arms, but she doesn't stop.
She's almost got a good number off when nurses converge, "hold on!" One is pleading, "you're safe, you're safe, calm down!" Hands are grabbing her hands and hindering her process.
"I need to go." She rasps out. Her throat hurts, too dry.
"No, honey you're not going anywhere you need to stay."
"Where's Phillips?" She growls out, "I need to talk to him."
The nurses are holding her and reattaching things. "Get Thompson, I don't care!" she snaps out. But now one answers her. And maybe she's not as sharp as she thinks because soon she notices a SSR nurse dispensing something into the IV and she's confused. "Hey," she pants out, "wh-what's-" her throat starts to get too loose. Tongue feeling leaden, "-wh-?" she's trying to force out. Stop. Her vision gets foggy and her mind is trying to think as it grows dim. I need to find Steve. I need…
The next time she wakes up there are cuffs on her wrist.
She's much more lucid this time, "HEY!" she shouts, scaring a nurse walking past her door, "get these off me!"
Within minutes Thompson is there, and he doesn't remove the cuffs. "You kept hurting yourself and the nurses." Thompson explains, black eye still very much apparent on his face.
"How long has passed?" She asks, sipping on the water cup he's holding up to her lips with a straw, "how long?"
"Since I found you in that building? About 14 hours. Since the explosion? About 15 hours and 46 minutes."
Her brow furrows, "it took almost 2 hours to find me in the building?"
"Well, for one, the structure had to be assessed if it was on the brink of collapse, because it wasn't the only explosion set off. They had timed explosions at structural strong points. Once they got that figured out, it took awhile to find you because you were hiding under a dead body."
Her throat goes dry, "whose?"
"Foley's."
Her head tips back, leaning on the pillow, "how did he die?"
"Shrapnel and debris to the kidney. Bled out."
Her eyes find his, "he died protecting me."
Thompson's eyebrow goes up, "excuse me?"
She takes a deep breath and thinks back, "I think he…" she pulls at the cuffs gently, "thought he was protecting his nephew's wife." Her eyes flick up to Thompson.
Who is silent for a second before he leans forward, eyes widening, "excuse me?!"
"I think Steve isn't a Rogers. The Russians seem to think he's Sean Foley's son." Her hands tug on the cuffs, harder now, "have you found Steve?"
Thompsons' face gets pinched. "We found a whole lot of his blood, Carter. I'm sorry."
The way he says sorry sounds more like I'm sorry for your loss.
She hisses, the sound grating between her teeth, "he's not dead. Find him, Let me out of these bloody cuffs and I'll find him!"
"Pretty sure he's at the bottom of the hudson in a barrel, Carter."
The rage she feels rises and boils out of her, "GET ME OUT OF THESE CUFFS RIGHT THIS FUCKING MINUTE YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" She's yanking, tearing, ripping at the cuffs with all her might. She hears the plastic creak and she ignores the fiery pain in her wrists and keeps yanking.
"WOAH!" Thompson says, "stop! Fine! I'll let you go! Calm down! GEEZ!"
He's stupid enough to get closer to her. Her bloody bandaged hand snaking out and grasping his button up, yanking his body forward and glaring at his face just inches away, "NOW."
"I'm doing it!" he huffs out, trying to get out of her grasp, but every drop of energy is in her one fist, holding him still. So he reaches into his pockets and pulls out the key. She waits until both hands are released before she makes her move, Yanking his head down while shoving her forehead forward, colliding their skulls ferociously.
He's not prepared and he drops like a bowling ball. She's dizzy, but she clambers out of the bed and stands shakily. She sucks down more water and then heads out the door, glad she's in a hospital gown that's closed in the back.
Several SSR nurses try to stop her, but she grabs a sort of weapon-like object and brandishes it, saying to let her go.
So they do.
She makes it out of the medical ward and into the elevators where thankfully her thumb print is enough to get her up to the offices. She goes to their locker room and pulls out a spare set of clothing, stumbling while trying to yank them on.
"You're a real piece of work." Thompson snarls, slamming through the door, "I was letting you go!"
"Not fast enough." She snaps back, "where's Phillips."
"Still cleaning up the carnage. The scale that this went to shit is immeasurable."
"We got played." She says calmly, grabbing a holster and a pistol. "Morneaux's been pulling the strings from behind bars and everyone walked straight into his trap."
"Yeah, hence why I was there at the hospital waiting for you to wake up so I could learn your new developments."
"I'll tell you as you drive." She glares at him, "I want to follow the trail of Steve's blood."
"It disappears into a car that was waiting out back. Video camera confirms it."
"Where did that car go?"
"No idea. It can be followed for a few blocks and then it goes into a tunnel. And there's no cameras on the other side. Trail goes cold."
"Shit…" She breathes out, "we have to find him."
"I found half his blood, Carter. There's nothing to fi-" He blinks at the muzzle pointed at him, voice dying.
"Stop saying he's dead." She snaps. Then she slides the barrel open to show him that there weren't any bullets inside. "And be more observant." She slams a magazine into the pistol and hostlers it. Are you coming? Or not?"
He rolls his eyes, but follows after her.
Infuriatingly, Thompson's right. The amount of blood in the building is disconcerting. And the trail and camera footage lead nowhere. They scour through the rubble for clues but come up empty.
She ignores several calls from Dugan.
Then she sits behind glass as they're interviewing whoever was caught. Several important leaders in the Russian family, and a ton of the Irish. But no one knows anything about anything. The true genius is sitting behind bars. Both sides pitted against each other in a battle neither fully understood. No one knows where hostages might be taken because there wasn't a plan for hostages in the first place.
Every address, every hideout, every hint of a new location is checked, combed over.
No sign of Steve.
Desperation claws at her chest, ripping her heart to bits, piece by piece.
As much as the original operation had gone to shit, the intel she and Steve had gathered, the interviews with those they had caught, and the realization of Morneaux's betrayal ended up solidifying the mission's success.
Felons, murderers, mobsters and the like are arrested. Weapons, cash, and truck after truck after truck of black market items are collected. Headquarters and hideouts are raided.
Everyone around her is celebrating.
She is not.
The key is cold in her hand. It turns smoothly in the cylinder and the door swings open quietly.
The apartment is dark and a layer of dust coats everything as she walks inside.
It's small, but cozy.
And empty. No sign of him. Her eyes catch on the pictures. A few of him and his mother and people she doesn't recognize.
A napkin with writing is framed, hanging on the wall. She steps closer, squinting in the dark to see what it says.
Neat formal handwriting on it reads:
I, James B. Barnes, do declare Steven G. Rogers the genius of party planning, schedule organizing, prank aficionado, and mastermind of all things Brooklyn, New York. For now.
Officially and sincerely,
A swoopy signature that clearly has a J and a B in it. There's a little doodle, a stick figure wearing a party hat.
She stares at that napkin for a long moment before forcing herself to move away, to keep searching, to not give up.
The fridge and freezer are empty and cleaned. So is his pantry. He prepared to be gone for a while. The thought sends a new rock to her gut.
Everything in the front room of the apartment is so well organized except his coat closet which has a heap of shoes on the floor. Something about it is so personal and so intimate that she crumples onto the soft wooden floors and cries about it.
A few minutes later she's peeling herself up off the floor and continuing. Not giving up. She checks the one small bathroom and it's relatively empty as well. A little line of rubber duckies sit on the windowsill.
A sketch of a rubber ducky wearing a Dodgers hat is hanging above the toilet.
She wonders why. She wants to ask him why.
She's not sure she'll ever get a chance to ask him why.
There's two bedrooms and she easily discerns which one is his by the pile of sketchbooks on the nightstand. She flips through a few of them, marveling at his skill while ignoring the continual cloying panic that if he's dead he'll probably never draw again.
But still nothing. She knows there's nothing here. There were just no other options. No other places to check. Her options were running out. Hope was running low.
But not empty yet. Peggy steals her nerves and decides to check the other bedroom. Only to see his handwriting-
Bucky
-on an envelope, leaning against the pillow on the bed.
Her hand is ripping it open before she can warn herself to stop. There's a paper and then a USB.
-You might want to make a video-
The gasp of distress she exudes leaves her breathless.
But she can't help herself, walking to the TV and finding a USB port.
It doesn't take long for her to figure it out and get the video loaded.
It plays on its own.
Steve is holding the camera, presumably his phone, and looking unsure how to begin.
"Hey, Bucky, it's me, Steve. Obviously, uhh…." There's a long pause and he wrinkles his nose before continuing, "this is… it feels silly because it's going to be fine. You know? I know I'm going to get home and burn this USB before you even notice I'm gone." He grins at the camera, "and then you can't be pissed and kick my ass, because you won't even know." His expression grows serious, "but just in case, I guess I better do this right." His expression settles into something fond, "You're my best friend and my brother. I've been grateful for every day we've got to spend together, and for how your family has claimed me as their own. When I had no one else I always had you. So thanks… I can't ever repay that. But I'm going to try. There's something I gotta do. And it will hopefully make the streets safer. Safer for you guys, your family, for Rebecca. I know you would disapprove if you were here, but I know what I need to do, so I'm going to do it, and it's going to be fine." His face turns into a grimace but there's humor there, "In fact, I know it will. I hope one day I get to introduce you to my partner. She's-" a look of awe crosses his face, "she's pretty incredible, takes no shit and means business. It's been really cool learning from her. And she's the one I'm going undercover with," he grimaces, again, "oh yeah… did I mention I'm going undercover in the Irish mob? It's wild to me too. But I've got a partner coming with me so I know I'll be safe. She promised to not let anything happen to me. So this whole message is pointless." Steve laughs, a sound she wants to treasure but feels stricken by his trust, his words of belief.
She won't let anything happen to me
She's clutching at her chest, heaving, trying to breathe and not sob. She'd failed, she'd failed.
"I love you, Bucky. Take care of yourself okay? And I pass the mantle to you now. See you soon."
She missed part of it, but she's just clutching the envelope in her hand, covering her eyes.
Eventually, she's able to pull herself together and she smoothes out the now crinkled envelope. She opens what she thought was a paper but is now clearly a napkin, and chokes out a distressed, manic laugh at the writing on it, guessing what it will say.
I, Steven G. Rogers, now hereby pass the mantle of genius party planner, schedule organizer, prank aficionado, and mastermind of all things Brooklyn, New York, to James Buchanan Barnes. May he dazzle the Borough.
Sincerely and Officially,
His signature is somehow the most artistic thing in the apartment.
She wants to take it. It's a desire so gripping she feels lightheaded with it.
A sound makes her go rigid. Slowly her head turns to the door where the knob is rattling. Without thought she's grabbing her pistol, napkin still clutched in her hand, pointing it at the door.
She sees a man walking through the door, something heavy in his hand, weighing him down. He's reaching for a light switch. But then suddenly he's looking up, seeing her and before she can blink there's a pistol pointed at her too, the thud of a duffel hitting the ground echoing between them.
"Who are you?" the voice bites out, "what the hell are you doing in my apartment?"
Barnes is due in in three days
Her arm sags down and she stares at him. Sharp blue eyes, dark brown hair, well built and very clearly military.
He does not lower his gun.
And she thinks that if he shoots her that she just might not blame him.
"James Barnes." She says softly, holstering her gun and sinking back to the coffee table she'd been sitting on.
"Uh, yeah? And who the hell are you?"
"I'm Agent Peggy Carter. With the SSR."
"SSR?" He frowns, "Phillips' division?"
She nods, unsurprised that he knows about it. Phillips had seemed to have heard his name before. Then his next words surprise her.
"I told him a million times I wasn't going to work for him. And this is how he tries to convince me?" His voice is a growl, "Breaking into my apartment?"
"No, I'm not-" she rasps out, "here because of you…"
He blinks, his eyes scanning the apartment, then she watches him look at his watch. It's early midday. He wouldn't expect Steve to be home from work yet. His pistol is still pointed at her.
"Then who are you here for? And again, why are you in my apartment?"
"I'm looking for…" she chokes over his name, "Steve."
Barnes steps closer, "why the hell would you be looking for Steve?"
"He's missing." She admits, "I hoped to find some clue here."
There's a long silence while he studies her, trying to decide if what she's saying is true. Then he looks around, the sun filtering against all the dust, "is this a prank?" He asks. "Because of last year?" He looks around, "ha-ha, not very funny. And you can tell Steve I said that."
She remembers their first meeting with Steve, where he had assumed it was a prank as well.
Wiping the back of her hand against her eyes she stands, pulling out her badge and holding it out to him. Then she feels as if she's about to face the firing squad. But he deserves the truth.
"Phillips and I were looking for a man who spoke gaelic. Someone who could help us unweave the strict hold the Irish and more vitally the Russian had on the neighborhoods. Tensions were rising, people were dying and we were out of options. Steve's name came up as an unassuming Irishman who spoke fluent gaelic. He and I went undercover and-" she can feel her voice is going to waver, so she pauses, clearing it and keeping her eyes anywhere but the man's incredulous face, "-things went south three days ago. We've lost contact-"
"Excuse me?" He cuts in, "hold up and start over. You're trying to tell me that Phillips took a civilian undercover? Into one of the most volatile mob contentions in New York history?"
His gaze is piercing. She nods, "yes."
"And you lost him?"
Her voice cracks, "yes."
Suddenly the gun is pressed against her chest, right over her heart, and his hand is gripping her arm like a vice, "if this is some kind of sick joke, a prank-"
"It's not-" she gasps out, "I swear. I-" she feels the cold press of the muzzle to her chest. She studies his expression. Furious and skeptical, wondering what to believe. She doesn't want to throw Dugan under the bus, even though that would at least give him a believable reason for how they got Steve's name.
"Call Phillips." She breathes out, "he'll tell you."
Cold realization dawns on his face, "you call Phillips," he snarls, "on speaker."
She grabs her phone out of her pocket, dialing.
"Hello?"
"Phillips, it's Carter. I'm… here with James Barnes."
There's a long silence, "Sergeant Barnes."
"Colonel Phillips." The man hisses out, "tell me what your agent told me. Tell me you weren't that insane!"
Phillips' voice is craggy and deep, "I did what needed to be done, Sergeant. Your friend helped us almost completely topple two regimes at once. He got us more intel, and further invested into their operations than any seasoned agest I've ever had."
Barnes' voice is sharp, making her wince, "and where the hell is he now!?"
Phillips' voice is resigned, "we don't know-"
"Oh!" His voice is starting to sound like hers had, manic, hysteric, "oh, you don't know!? You threw a civilian in with the mob and just lost track of him!?" His eyes flash to her face, "how did you even find Steve? How did you even know about him?"
"Captain Dugan submitted his name when we were searching."
Barnes eyes go wide and his mouth drops open,
-he'll kill you when he gets back. And I'll just watch-
Monty's words to Dugan reverberate in her mind as silence prevails for a long time. She watches as it all really sinks in for him. This is real. Steve is missing. She hasn't even told him that Steve is most likely- dead. Her mind revolts against the word. She hasn't mentioned it because she refuses to believe it.
His hand is cutting off her circulation. She's going to have a James Barnes' hand shaped bruise on her bicep, but she doesn't say a thing. She'll probably have a bruise on her chest from his muzzle as well.
It's a three way silence. Barnes just staring at her incredulously like he can't believe they would be telling him something so incredibly stupid that would lead to their own deaths by his hand.
Finally he breaks the silence. "You are going to give me every detail, every scrap of information. I'll find him myself." The words are bitten off at the end, and he finally releases her, shoving her back, but not harshly.
"I've been searching." Peggy says softly, "I'll help-"
"No thank you." He snaps at her. "I don't want the SSR screwing this up more than they already have." He pulls out a phone and dials something. He waits until someone answers. "Dum-Dum, get your ass to the apartment right fucking now!"
She can almost sense the wince on the other side as he hangs up and glares at her. "Why are you here?"
"Steve-"
"No." He growls out, cutting her off, "why are you here."
"Desperation." She admits. "I've run out of places to look for him."
He's about to respond, but his eyes catch the TV on behind her. "Why is the TV on?"
Slowly she holds out the napkin, and he takes it gingerly, still looking at her. "Its protocol for those going undercover to prepare for the worst possible scenario." His eyes flash down and he pales as he reads the napkin. His expression shifts to panicked rage and she wonders if he just might end up shooting her anyways. But she doesn't back away. She points to the screen, "he recorded you a video."
"Get the hell out of my apartment." he snarls, "get the hell out!"
He stabs a finger at the door and she nods, leaving quietly, not even saying anything to Phillips before she hangs up and is out the door.
"So…"
The shadow cast over her feet is large and she doesn't have to look up to know who it is. "So…"
"Might want to call the police." Dugan jokes weakly, "there's about to be a murder."
"I'm sorry, Dugan." She responds, her words jagged, "I didn't tell him. Phillips did, but-"
"No, it's fine. I would have confessed anyway. He deserves the truth."
They're both quiet for a moment. She's sitting on the stoop of the apartment building and he's standing just below on the sidewalk. "Be honest with me, Carter." Dugan's voice is serious, "do you think he's still alive?"
Her resolve cracks, hands shoved over her face and a sob trying to force its way out.
A gentle hand rests on her shoulder and a sad voice passes beside her as he walks into the apartment building, "I'll take that as a no."
Thompson stops in front of her an hour later. He wisely says nothing. In fact, he surprises her by sitting a few steps below her, back against the wall lining the stairs. She sees the folder in his hands, the one he's probably bringing to Barnes.
He's tapping it lightly against his knee.
"We got ahold of the books."
She tilts her head, eyes dry from crying, body exhausted from the tension she's been holding in her shoulders for the last three days straight.
"Foley's books. The one in gaelic, outlining their entire operation. And with the info from Steve's notes, and a few pieces from Wesley… We've got the code crackers working through it. Their whole system is almost gone."
"The Russians?"
"Same. Easier to find a guy who speaks Russian. And quite a few of them are pissed at Morneaux for how he betrayed them, so a few are giving up the ghost." he huffs out a sigh, "Phillips said it is the most arrests, more contraband collected, and most successful operation in SSR history." his voice is wry, "and it would have been impossible except for a civilian."
"Of whom you mocked and teased."
Thompson nods, "I know. I'm a piece of shit. What a shock."
Peggy appreciates the candor. "Well…" she sighs, elbows leaning on the step behind her back, "if you are so am I. At least you're not the one who got him stabbed and stolen."
"That was-"
"Me," she bites out. "He told me he wanted to stay with me. That he was only safe with me. But I convinced him to finish the mission. To go with Foley. Then I'm watching him be-" her voice fails her and she growls out an annoyed sound at herself, clearing her throat. "I got him killed. And I probably could have avoided it. I could have done what he'd said, taken us both back to the SSR. Everything was already to shit, so-"
"No…" Thompson says quietly, "if you guys hadn't followed to the secondary location, you wouldn't have figured out about Jess, or Morneaux. Foley might still be alive. You made the right call."
She pictures the way Steve's face had crinkled in pain at being stabbed. "Did I?"
Eventually he goes up and hands the file over. Then he comes back out.
"What did he say?"
Thompsons' eyebrows raise and he huffs, "you mean other that me and the SSR can go fuck ourselves? Not much."
"How's Dugan?"
"Surprisingly quiet."
"Heard him calling in a few others."
"Oh?"
"Did you know he knows Howard Stark?"
She blinks, looking up in surprise, "what?"
"Heard him talking to hermit, eccentric, and genius weapons developer Howard Stark."
"How does he know him?"
"No idea. Not like he'd tell me if I asked. Dugan whispered to me hile he was busy on the phone that Falsworth, Jones, Morita, Denier and a few others are going to volunteer to help search."
Her eyes widen, "for Steve?"
He nods, "yeah, Barnes is calling in a bunch of favors."
Her voice is dry as she squints up at the sky and whispers out, "what are we going to find?"
And instead of a joke or a morbid 'truth', Thompson just sighs and shrugs, "I don't know, Carter. For all of your sakes I hope you find something. Even if it's closure."
I hope you find something. Even if it's closure-
The words echo as she wakes, picturing Steve's dead body floating in a river, abandoned in a factory, or burnt to a crisp.
The images haunt her, but Thompson's right. She'd rather know he's dead than wonder about him for the rest of her life.
She won't stop searching until she finds something.
Which eventually leads her to the prison where Morneaux is being held. The bandages around her hands are smaller, more concealable. She hands over her ID and gun, being led through the containment unit.
He should have been released by then. But with everything hat hd gone down, they'd found a whole new set of charges against him and were hoping it was enough to keep him in prison. He was awaiting another trial.
He's waiting for her at the glass, eyeing her with an amused and vicious stare.
"Morneaux." She speaks into the hand held phone connected to the wall.
He narrows his eyes, "Agent Carter." In any other situation, she would hate that he somehow knows her name. But just feels cold rage at this man. How can I have the pleasure of serving you?"
Her eyes narrow, "I want to know where Lorne took Steve and where Jess is."
He laughs, "I'm in prison little lady. I don't know anything."
"Don't be a lying bastard." She snaps, "you've been pulling the strings on your little puppets for years. Tell us where Steve is and I'll think about getting you a better deal."
The sharp mock of laughter from him gives her goosebumps. "You're a good liar, little girl. But I'm not buying what you're selling. Not today. And-" he shrugs, the prison suit pulling at his shoulders, "I genuinely don't know. I gave Lorne permission to dispose of him whatever way he wanted to. Can't tell if I don't know."
Dispose of him. Her body is rigid, "so his instructions were to kill him?"
Morneaux nods, "of course they were. It's always been our goal to destroy the Irish family. Foley's nephew is a part of that."
The statement brings her back to a professional reserved state, "how did you figure he's Foley's nephew? How did you know about Steve to begin with?"
"Didn't know he existed." Morneaux admits, "but then my fellows start reporting that a new consultant is with Foley on the art runs. I ask for pictures. I get pictures. I see Sean's ears. I see Sean's eyebrow line. I see Sean's jaw. Not to mention Sarah's eyes, coloring, and temperament. It was clear as day to me."
"Because you killed Sean Foley."
Morneaux grins, placing a finger to his lips. "Don't ask me questions I can't answer."
"How could you possibly be sure they were related? Not just coincidence?"
He barks out a laugh. "Sarah and Sean were inseparable. It's part of the reason I knew about her because she was everywhere he was. When we tracked him, trying to get at Foley, there was always this pretty blonde with him. Then suddenly a young man appears beside Foley, who looks just like her but with Sean's features too? No, ma'am. That's no coincidence." He grins at her, "you ever see a picture of Joseph Rogers?"
She frowns.
He smirks, "he'd olive skin toned, brown hair, brown eyes, wider face and more stocky. I have a thing. A way I see things and never forget them. I know when I'm looking at the child of someone." He smirks, "how has Foley taken the news that his precious nephew is gone?"
Her face is schooled. They have not released Foley's death. Everyone believes he's being kept in an undisclosed location.
"He wasn't happy." Peggy lies, "he'll come after you."
Morneaux gestures around them, "he's welcome to try." then he leans forward, piercing her with his stare, "and why, pray tell, would the SSR be interested in the body of a dead irishman?"
She glares at him, "don't pretend you don't know."
His grin is back, "I like feigning ignorance. It is ever so entertaining to watch you squirm."
"How did you figure it out?"
"I followed the same trail that Foley followed. Except… where he had missed the quick name change of ownership of your apartment, and he had ignored checking in on your background story, I did not."
"How long have you known?"
"Not terribly long. Perhaps a week. Sean's son being involved didn't surprise me. What surprised me was how long it had taken for him to join their endeavors. But no, what tipped Jess off was his behavior. He alerted me, and I told him to keep an eye on it. His reaction to the young girls were the last straw. I started searching and figured it out where his allegiance truly lay. That's why I needed Jess there to block any outgoing information the night before." He sighs, "it was too late to stop the momentum, and I had assumed things would get ugly. I hadn't anticipated quite the level of melt down, but such is life."
She internally curses. So that's why Phillips hadn't gotten her last email. "You're admitting a lot to me right now."
He huffs out a laugh, "please. Conspiracy from behind bars is not much of a charge compared to the others." Then his expression is mocking, "and you and I both know that's not why you're here. You don't even care about any of that. You only want one thing. Don't you?" His expression is mocking, vile. "Jess told me about the nature of your screams. Foley's nephew means something to you. Doesn't he?"
"We would like Steve's body back." She says blandly, as if it's not the most disgusting sentence she's ever said. "And in exchange for your cooperation, I really would work on getting you a better deal."
His gaze shifts, true anger showing through for the first time. "No. That Irish сука is where he belongs. I will happily rot in here knowing Foley's nephew is rotting away as well. Not to mention Foley's domain has crumbled and his rage unfulfilled."
"Your empire is in ruins as well."
He shrugs, "no matter. I fear I now have an abundance of time in here to exact my revenge."
"You think we would let you od that?"
"Oh my dear." he says with a sickly sweet smug grin, "why on earth would you think you could stop me? You didn't stop me before."
She learns forward, wishing she could grab his neck, "tell me where Steve is."
He laughs, "I already told you, little girl. I don't know. And neither do you. Aren't we a pair?"
His laughter echoes against her back as she stalks away.
Barnes is there when she walks into the SSR.
His eyes catch on her immediately and she feels his hard gaze follow her as she makes her way to Phillips' office.
THere's a weariness to Phililps' features. Their successful mission is being completely overshadowed by the unhinged nature of his employees and a group of specialized military men searching for a single civilian.
It's almost painful as her mind conjures up the image of him. Him washing dishes, him folding laundry, him drawing, smiling, sleeping. She misses so much she could shatter.
"Anything?" Phillips asks, pulling her from her reverie.
"He's not going to tell us, and-" she can hear Barnes and the group standing at the door listening, "I genuinely don't think he knows. Can't give up information you don't have. It's my belief that Lorne has Stev's-" her voice wavers, "b-body as a bargaining chip. I believe he thinks Foley would want it back and would be willing to do much to get it back. He doesn't know Foley is dead, so at least we have that."
Her voice is empty and hollow.
"We've been doing constant searches." Phillips says, his voice directed at her but also the men in the doorway. "Eventually something will pop up."
That's not true. And they all know it.
It's been six days since Barnes found her in the apartment.
Six days and nothing.
They've mostly cleared out her and Steve's apartment. She keeps the magnets off the fridge. Anything that has his handwriting, a sketchbook of his. Barnes comes to collect his belongings, clothes, shoes and anything else. She wants to ask if he knew who Steve's real father was. But Phillips had warned against opening that door. So she stayed quiet.
He's shifting the two boxes in his grip, standing at the door, ready to leave. They've barely spoken since their initial meeting.
"I watched the video." He says gruffly. "He said you'd keep him safe. That you were great and would keep him safe."
The words drive daggers into her heart. "I know."
"But you didn't"
"I know." it's barely a whisper.
"Just because he was a civilian doesn't mean he didn't matter."
Her eyes widen and mouth gapes, "how dare you. How dare you insinuate I didn't care! I-"
Her throat chokes her off. Love. I loved him. The words are shouting, screaming to come out.
And she can't think of a good reason to pull them back. "I loved him."
Shock crosses his face, "what?"
"I loved him." She snaps out. "I loved him with every fiber of my idiotic being! I wanted him to be mine. I was going to-" she feels the tears well up, closing off her throat. She growls out in annoyance at herself, forcing herself to continue, "I was going to ask him out after we came home. Once he was safe. I was going to tell him." Her eyes close, heart pounding, "I've never met, nor will I ever meet a more magnificent human being."
"Some love." he bites out, "you let him get stabbed, taken, and killed."
He's gone before she has the words to respond.
Three days later she sees Dugan at her desk. The split lip and clear bruises from a fight make her pause.
She sets her files down on her desk. "How did it start?"
Dugan huffs a sigh and leans back in her chair, causing it to creak. "I begged him to."
She frowns, "what?"
"I could tell. He was furious at me. He could barely look at me or speak to me. Fuming. And I couldn't take it anymore. I deserved it, you know? It is my fault for giving his name. So I begged him. Asked him to take out his anger on me." His shoulders heave a big sigh. "He only landed a few swings, when he realized I wasn't going to fight back. He broke down after that."
That tight sensation in her throat and burning in her nose and eyes is back. She sinks down onto the chair beside her desk and rests her head on her arm face down on the desk.
A warm hand rests gently on her shoulder and she breaks down as well.
The knock on her door startles her out of her staring blankly at the wall.
She stands up and looks out the peephole. It's Barnes.
Peggy opens it immediately and they stare quietly at each other for a moment. He looks as wrecked as she feels and probably looks at well.
He shoves something into her hands. A sketchbook. She looks up at him with a question.
"Open it. 12 pages in."
Without hesitation she does so and comes face to face with a sketch of herself looking at the artist seriously, and she recognizes the outfit from the first day they met at the diner. Soft words are written in a speech bubble beside her portrait:
And we need your help to infiltrate them and take them down
He brushes past her into the apartment. Slowly she turns, the sketchbook gripped tightly in her hands.
"I won't ever forgive you."
His words slice but she understands, "I know. I'll never forgive myself."
"He was my best friend. My brother."
Her words are cracked and dry, "I know."
"My sister cried for days. My mom has barely spoken."
"I'm sorry." she whispers. "I know it doesn't make up for anything. But I am truly sorry."
"Did he love you back?"
That brings her adrenaline up, "what?"
"You said you loved him. Did he love you back?"
"I don't know," she admits, "probably not. We didn't talk about that. We were pretending to be married so everything was a performance."
"But not for you."
"Maybe at the beginning. When we were still strangers. But no, eventually it was real."
"Did he know you loved him?"
"No. I never told him."
"That doesn't mean he didnt know."
"That's true," she sighs, "but I don't believe he did. Before we left for the mission he was adamant that a girl like me could never be married to a man like him."
His face grows pinched and he glares out the small window. "But you did." He asks, sounding half strangled, "you did love him?"
"More than I can bear."
She sees the crack then, the pain and grief rising, tightening first in his fists and then up to his chest, his neck and then jaw.
"We're having a funeral." Barnes says roughly, wiping at his face. "In three days. At the church where his ma is buried." He walks back to the door. "If you want to come."
Then he's gone again and she can't seem to breathe.
She tells Phillips the next day that she will be taking the day after next off. He doesn't ask why.
Then she leaves the SSR and heads towards her apartment. The hair on the back of her neck raises and she turns, seeing a flash of red before nothing. Her brow furrows, the feeling of unease sitting in her stomach. But she continues home, taking a confusing and longer way.
That night she pulls out the black dress she had worn to her brother's funeral. She finds dried up rose petals in the pocket. She cries and cries and cries until she's empty.
On her way to work the next morning, she gets the same feeling, goosebumps on her neck and a gut intuition.
She turns, and the same flash of red disappears.
Once is a coincidence. Twice is not.
It's very likely Morneaux plans to kill her, or perhaps just try to make her life miserable since she has full throttle decided to ensure he's placed in solitary confinement for the rest of his days.
So she keeps walking, acting nonchalant and moseying down the streets. At just the right time, when a taller man passes behind her, she slips off down an alley and waits, hiding behind the edge.
Not three minutes later, red hair on a young girl comes creeping around the corner, not noticing her, but looking like she's looking for someone in the crowd.
"Hello-" Peggy says, reaching out and snagging the young girl's wrist. "Looking for me?"
The girl startles, yanking her wrist violently, and pulling a knife from who knows where.
Peggy dodges one swipe, and another before twisting the girl and getting her other hand in a hold.
The girl mouths something in Russian and Peggy sighs, "you're a little young to be working for Morneaux."
The girl goes rigid and Peggy hears the knife clatter to the ground.
"Pocket," the girl says in accented English, "my left pocket."
Peggy narrows her eyes, her voice sherpa nd mocking, "and what is in that pocket, a poisonous spider?"
"No, no," the girl says, fingers spreading in surrender. "I was sent for you. You startle me. It's message for you."
"From Morneaux?"
"No."
"From who?"
"He not say name. Just draw you and send me."
Peggy's ripping into the girl's pocket, other hand still holding her wrists. When a crumbled, clearly waterlogged and then dried piece of notebook paper exits her pocket, Peggy releases the girl, unfolding the paper gingerly.
A rough mottled sketch of her, obviously done with shaky hands is in the middle. Then a barely legible set of directions to the SSR.
Two small letters are below the portrait
SR
She gasps, tears immediately streaming. He's alive. Somehow, someway, he's alive!
She grabs the girl's shoulders, "where is he? Where!"
The girl looks definitely at her, "he say you help us all. You keep end of deal. Help all the girls."
Her hands are trembling, "absolutely, whatever he promised, whatever he said, we will do. Where is he!"
The girl shakes her head, "he said to tell you team is needed. Down at wharf, in locked shipping crates."
She stumbles over Phillips' number twice before she growls in frustration and gets it right.
"Carter? You're late-"
"Call Barnes, call Dugan! I can find Steve!"
The young girl, who says quietly that she's called Natalia and is actually older than she looks, leads them down to a wharf Peggy's never been to. Rundown and dilapidated and basically rusting away. None of their intel had had this address and Peggy wonders how they ended up here.
It had taken less than an hour for Barnes, Dugan, Jones, Morita, Thompson, and Monty to gather and get briefed.
Now they were approaching crates quietly and checking them. The girl was with Morita is an SUV a block away, watching the feeds and the girl was verbally directing them.
A few unsuspecting Russian guards are quietly taken out. Peggy's adrenaline is through the rough, but she keeps her breathing steady and relays information through the comms.
"On the left," Morita says, "she says it's the green on on the bottom."
Two more guards are taken out and soon they're hauling the door open.
Blinking, squinting eyes gape at them. The stench hits her first and she shoves down the urge to gag. It smells like death and human filth mixed together. A line of oil barrels is on one side and straw is on the ground.
"Steve?" Bucky calls.
The girls all shrink back at the sound and she steps forward, ripping off her mask and helmet so they can see her.
"Мы здесь чтобы помочь вам." She whispers.
*we are here to help you
The girls stay quiet and she can't see into the back, it's too long and dark to see who and how many are in there.
"Get the supplies," she orders Monty, "water and food, now. Get Phillips, have the safe houses ready. Go."
She starts slowly making her way through the girls. Water bottles and crackers are passed out. They vanish before her eyes. Some girls hiding them in their pockets, others eating them immediately.
The smell is overpowering and she wonders how long they've been trapped in here.
"Natalia said he'll be hidden in the back, under whatever they could find."
She wonders why he would be hidden, but she just responds accordingly, and continues to make her way through the girls. "Barens," she calls softly through the comms, "to the back."
The girls get more nervous as they approach the back. A few of the older ones actually try to step in her way and halt her progress. They look panicked, ready to bolt and unwilling to move at the same time.
But gently she speaks to them in Russian, alerting them that they're here to help him too. A blonde girl waves her forward and leads her to the back corner. A mass of hay, dirty blankets and a few mattresses make a heap. She can't imagine any of the Russian guards caring enough to come back this far.
The girl rearranges a pile and suddenly he's there, his shape slowly forming out of the pile. Peggy kneels beside him, brushing hay and filth off him, "Steve? Oh-!" She gasps out, he's burning up, eyes barely open.
"Steve, I'm here, we're going to get you out of here, you're going to be fine."
Barnes is suddenly beside her, hands shaking, "Steve? Oh shit-"
Steve's hand reaches out, weakly grasping the hand she has resting on her chest. His voice is whisper quiet, "knew you'd come."
She chokes out half sob half laugh. Grasping him into her arms.
When they pull him out of the heap, she notices that he's in the same clothes she last saw him in. The amount of blood covering his back is startling, and it's all dried, crusted and stiff on his clothes. But it's the wound that makes Thompson gag. The knife wound is stuffed with something, keeping it sealed and closed.
And also causing an infection. Blood poisoning lines spread out from the sight and she knows he's in dire need of medical attention.
He's rushed to the SSR's medical wards and taken out of their sight. She and Barnes pace anxiously, awaiting any morself of news they can get.
Periodically she checks on the girls through Jones who is helping Thompspon and Phillips organize them into safe houses. A dead body was found on the crate as well, but they haven't been able to ID him yet.
She receives reports that each girl has received medical care, new clothes, a time to get clean, as much food as they're able to eat and a bed to sleep on. Phillips informs her that they will try to start seeing if they can locate any family for the girls.
She listens and thanks him and turns to head back to the floor Steve is on.
"Carter."
She turns and he's looking at her with a fondness, "for your sake, I'm glad he's been found, and I hope he's okay."
It's quite the most fatherly thing he's ever said to her. She nods, throat tight, "thank you sir, I hope so too."
Barnes is dozing in an uncomfortable chair when she returns. She does not wake him, but sits beside him in silence.
Dugan arrives an hour later, settling in a chair across from them, and Monty joins not too much later.
A doctor walks over not too much later and smiles at them. She nudges Barnes awake and he sits up instantly alert. "It was touch and go there for a minute. His blood depletion was rather high, but we've got the infection down, a successful transfusion and an IV replenishing fluids. He probably won't be awake until late tomorrow. You guys can go home and get some rest. We will call with any updates."
"I'm not going anywhere." Barnes says sharply.
She just tugs her legs up onto the chair, resting her chin atop her knee and wrapping her arms around them.
Dugan and Monty grin, "think we'll stick around, Doc."
The man shrugs, "your call."
Morita comes through a couple hours later, looking tired and a bit dazed.
"What is it?" Monty asks, "you look like you took a knock to the head."
He huffs, plopping down in a chair beside Dugan, "after that girl's story, I did."
"Girl?"
"Natalia. Got her to tell me how they managed to get rescued."
The rest of them blink. They'd been so focused on Steve that it hadn't been on their minds.
"How?" Monty asks.
Morita shakes his head, "so the Russians have this thing about stuffing dead bodies in barrels."
Morita tells them that Steve had been dragged into that shipping crate and left while the majority of the chaos had ensued.
The girls, especially Natalia and the blonde one named Yelena had recognized Steve from just a few days prior. Apparently he'd tried to talk to them and comfort them, even though most didn't speak English. Peggy didn't know that. No wonder he'd been so angry if he'd seen them in that state.
So when they saw him bleeding out, they tried to help, shoving small scraps of fabric, straw, and whatever else they can find that's the cleanest into the wound. He stopped bleeding out but didn't regain consciousness.
Hours later, they'd come back and the girls had watched as Steve was stuffed into a barrel.
The girls knew what that meant. He was going to be dropped over the edge of the pier. But again, there was a break between when he was put into the barrel and dropped over so the girls took action. They used whatever they could to peel off the top, pull Steve out and reseal it, but not before filling it with whatever they could find. Shoes, rocks, gravel, jackets, anything that would add weight so it would feel like a body was still inside.
Then they'd hid him in the back where none of the guards ever went.
Eventually he'd woken up, learned what had happened and thanked them profusely for saving him. He had at that point promised them that people were looking for them, and that they would get found.
But of course, days and days had passed. He'd mostly refused any food or water that was given to the girls, but he did take a little bit.
When it became clear to Steve that they weren't going to find them, he asked the girls to describe what they saw outside the doors when the men opened it up. Based on their descriptions, he realized they were at a completely unknown wharf. So he began to hatch a plan.
He'd told them he needed to let him get captured so that way he could cause a distraction and they could run. He'd drawn the picture of Peggy and directions to the SSR at this point. But all of the girls had vehemently refused.
And Natalia had come up with another plan. Steve had tried to veto it, but with his mottled brain, and infection raging high he hadn't had too much strength to resist. So when the next dead body was thrown in and placed in a barrel, they'd removed the dead body and shoved Natalia in it instead, replacing the lid, but placing a blanket in with her and wedge under the lip of the lid so it wasn't completely sealed.
When they'd dropped the barrel over the edge, she'd managed to escape, swim to a palace she could climb out and make the incredibly long journey to find Peggy. Catching sight of her only for Peggy to lose her.
Peggy sighs. She'd thought she was being tailed. And she was, just not by who she thought.
Then Peggy had caught Natalia and the rest they knew.
Peggy vows to ensure Natalia never wants for another single thing in her entire life.
"He's awake." The doctor says softly, pulling them all from their dozes. "If you'd like to speak with him."
They follow him through the doors and down two hallways until they enter a dimly lit room.
The TV is on, playing quietly, and Steve is sitting there, a bit glassy eyed. He watches them walk in and smiles. "You're here."
"Here?" Barnes snaps, "we haven't left once! You-" he clams up and presses his fist against his nose, "I'm going to yell at you so much when you're out of here."
Steve grins, "okay." then he tilts his head, "all the girls are okay?"
"They are. Being well taken care of by the SSR and families are being sought after." she says, "you saved them."
He huffs, "they saved me."
"Steve-" her throat tightens, "I'm so sorry about-"
He waves her off, "it's fine-"
"It's not fine." She and Barnes snap at the same time.
Steve furrows his brow, "Wait, Bucky?" he says incredulously like it's just hitting him, "what are you doing here?"
"Finished my contract you idiot. I came home wanting to surprise you and my family, only to find out you'd been recruited by these morons."
She does not argue.
Steve rolls his eyes, stretching his neck, "how did the mission go. Was it a success?"
Dugan and Monty snort and her gaze softens, "yes, Steve." She says quietly, "they're in shambles. Because of your work."
He frowns, "it was our work."
Barnes rests on the edge of his bed, "what were you thinking? Signing up to go undercover?"
"They needed me." Steve says calmly, "I could help."
"You don't have anything to prove." Barnes snaps.
"It's not about that Buck."
"Sure."
Stev elooks around the room, "is Foley in prison?"
Peggy winces, "Foley's dead."
His eyes widen, mouth going to a small 'o'. And Peggy wonders… "Steve?"
"Hmm?"
"How old are you?"
He frowns, "you already know this. I'm 26."
A thought wriggles in her mind. "Have you ever seen your birth certificate?"
The question seems to stun him. "Why?"
But she presses, "have you? Seen your birth certificate?"
"My ma said it got lost. She had to get me a new one…" his eyes flick up to Barnes who is looking at his hands. He was informed of their new knowledge.
"We have reason to believe that Joseph Rogers was not your biological dad."
His face pales, "what?"
"That you are actually the son of Sean Foley…"
He's staring at her wide eyed. "It will take a DNA test to confirm… BUt we're relatively positive."
His voice is a rasps, "that's why they kept mentioning Foley's family…" He blinks, "did Foley know about this?"
"Not until the last moments of his life." She says softly, "he died protecting me from the blast thinking I was his nephew's wife."
He's quiet for a long moment and when she looks behind her, she notices Dugan and Monty are nowhere to be seen.
"I mean…" Barnes says trying to lighten the mood, "your dad was always an asshole. So how much bad could a mobster be?"
Steve chokes out a weak laugh and he leans back, "I'm tired."
"Get some rest." Peggy says quietly, "we'll talk more later."
She leaves the room, but Barnes stays. And even though it aches, she knows that's how it should be.
She hears that he's moved to Howard Stark's personal medical wards when he's well enough. Which means it's simultaneously easier to avoid seeing him and more heartbreaking because of that fact.
Phillips goes to visit him, debriefing him so that way they can lay his part of the mission to rest. He's given financial compensation and a job offer.
She doesn't know if he takes it or not.
Thompson wisely stays quiet except for one, "aren't you going to go visit him?"
Her quick "no" surprises him and he doesn't ask again.
Dugan texts her one day that he's finally up and able to walk by himself without any support. She thanks him for telling her but asks no further questions. Dugan then asks if she's going to come visit. She says maybe another time.
He doesn't respond.
A knock on her door pulls her away from her files on her little dining room table.
Once again, she's surprised to see Barnes.
She opens the door, "yes?"
"He's back home."
"At your apartment?"
"Yes."
"That's wonderful. I'm glad."
"Why haven't you come to see him?"
"I wouldn't think you'd want me to."
"It's, unfortunately, not about what I want."
"I'm happy for him to put this chapter behind him."
"Including you."
She nods, clearing her throat of her emotions, "even me."
"You told me you loved him."
She regrets those words now, but she nods, "I do."
"And you're not going to tell him?"
"As we are both well aware, I got him stabbed, taken, and almost killed. Not exactly a great match for him."
Barnes glares at her and then slowly nods. "You're right." then he shrugs, "we're throwing him a 'welcome home' party tomorrow. If you want to come." Then he leaves.
Somehow the announcement of this party is almost as bleak as his identical invitation to Steve's funeral.
She does not attend.
The next month passes quietly and she's working on a new case when Thompson plops down into the chair beside her desk. "Yes?" She drawls.
"You say hi yet?"
"Hi?"
"Yeah, to Steve."
Her head pops up, "Steve is here?"
He grins at her reaction, "yep. Started today."
So he had taken the job.
"Oh…" she says smoothly, looking back at her papers.
"Oh?"
She doesn't respond. "You give me a black eye, a bruised rib, a split lip and a fucking concussion because of this guy and all you have to say is 'oh'?"
"What do you want me to say, Thompson?"
"You know. Who cares what I have to say, right? That's what you always say. Besides, I don't have to say anything. Lorraine was happy to jabber in his ear about welcoming him to the office and excited to have him and all that shit she always says to new guys who she can cling to for a good reputation. You know?" Then he's pushing out of her chair and gone.
Peggy does not take the bait. But she wants to.
She's not sure where he's working, but she doesn't see him his entire first week. Thankfully Phillips says nothing and life seems to resume as normal, except for the heart shaped hole in her chest.
"You mind if I join you for a minute?"
She looks up to see Steve standing there, a tray in his hands, looking at her nervously.
"Of course," she says blithely. "Hello." She doesn't usually eat in the cafeteria… Of course she should have thought about him being here.
He smiles briefly before looking seriously at her. "I just wanted to apologize. I know I threw a wrench in the mission by getting caught." He huffs, grimacing a wry expression at himself, "and I shouldn't have guilted you about keeping me safe, that was-" he sighs, "I was just really nervous and you spent valuable time looking for me instead of dealing with the fallout, so I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and thank you." He smiles at her genuinely and he's grabbing his tray to get back up.
She snatches his wrist, keeping him in place. She's dumbfounded, "what?"
He looks confused, "what?"
"You're apologizing… to me?"
He blinks, still confused, "yes."
"That's preposterous."
He looks slightly offended, "no it's not. I've been thinking about it for a while. I just haven't had the chance to see you and tell you in person."
"No." She snaps, "I should be apologizing to you. In fact, I've been such a coward about it, I haven't been able to face you."
His expression turns guarded, "what? Is that why I haven't seen you?"
"Why would you want to see me, Steve?" Her voice is a bit hysterical and she reigns it in, "I got you stabbed. I almost got you killed by my choices."
It's his turn to look dumbfounded, "I chose to go, Peggy."
The sound of her name on his lips almost makes her come undone, "No. I forced you and you suffered for it. I'm sorry."
He pushes his glasses up on his nose, "have you been avoiding me because of this?"
"Of course I have!" she says too loudly, heads turning their direction. She lowers her voice, still gripping his wrist. "I couldn't face you. Not after what I did."
"You saved me-"
"I got you hurt in the first place."
"No. Lorne stabbed me-"
"Because I told you to follow Foley-"
"Yeah, after you told me to leave and go to the SSR and I didn't."
She blinks. She'd forgotten about that.
He grins at her triumphantly. "And look, I'm fine. I actually feel normal. Better than normal. Stark has got some wild medical practices, but I'm fine. Just an ugly scar."
She doesn't have the right words. But she manages, "so you promise you're alright?"
He smiles at her, "of course I am. And I've gotten to see Natalia and the girls a couple times. I have Bucky back, and a new job which pays very well."
Emotion is thick in her chest and she nods, "good, I'm glad."
Something conflicted crosses his expression and then he seems to think the better of something. "I…" he shrugs, "I was looking forward to working with you again. But I guess our departments don't cross much. I hope you won't be too much of a stranger."
He gives her another sort of smile, a sad one, and then he's walking away.
"Steve?" she calls out, not even thinking first.
He turns back around, "yeah?"
"I'm making dinner. Tonight." adrenaline is pumping. People are listening. She doesn't give a shit. "Would you like to join me?"
He raises an eyebrow, "if I remember right, I'm the better cook."
The casual mention of all their meals together melts the last shard of hesitancy. "Alright then, we'll get take-away."
A small smile graces his lips, "sound like a plan." he says then he's walking away and she sits back down, stunned at herself.
Thompson is grinning at her later that day and she can't bring herself to care.
She orders something she;ll know he'll like from their time together. When he shows up, he's dressed casually, but his hair is neatly done and she can tell he's been valiantly trying not to touch it.
She takes his jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair and offering him something to drink. He accepts a water and then hands her a container.
"What's this?" She asks.
"Cookies. I made some for Bucky but managed to sneak a few out."
She laughs, "does he know the secret ingredient?"
Steve laughs, "he does. But swears he never makes them as good. He's just lazy."
"He seems like a great friend."
Steve nods, "he is."
"Did he yell at you like he promised?"
Steve groans, sitting on the edge of her couch, "at length."
"And what did you respond with?"
"That next time a secret government organization asks for my help that I would say no."
She laughs, "was that before or after you accepted the job?"
He blinks, then bursts into a laughter she's never heard from him. Carefree, happy, light. "It was before. Sheez, guess I already broke that promise, but hey. A job as an analyst is different than an undercover position."
"true ," she admits ith a grin. "He's alright with you working at the SSR."
"He said it's good, I can get all the hero shit out of my system. He's a jackass when he wants to be." he's grinning.
"Well I'mh appy to have you on board at the SSR. We need some people with brains. Thompson's is rather lacking."
Steve nods, staying quiet. Then he switches topics, "I heard you got Morneaux in solitary?"
"Yep." she says lightly, "pulled a few strings, but when we discovered he'd been bribing or blackmailing multiple prison guards and even a warden at one point, he can't be trusted. He has a silver tongue. He needs to be kept out of earshot of anyone with influence."
Steve nods, "that's good."
"How have you been doing? After the DNA results?"
"It's strange…" he starts softly, "realizing your whole life was a lie." his shoulders move in a soft shrug, "I know she did it to protect me. But I'm a year older than I thought. I don't even know what to do with that." He's quiet for a moment but then he looks up, his face pensive, "on the other hand… It's kind of a relief. I'm glad I'm not related to him. I asked Wesley about Sean. He told me a few stories. He's one of the only ones who will talk to me. The rest still view me as a traitor."
"Wesley is the only other person alive who saw you get stabbed."
Steve nods, "yeah. He's not my biggest fan but he talks to me. So it's something."
"You heard about Jess?"
Steve grimaces, "yep."
"At least he can't cause any more problems."
"Yeah… I guess."
The mood was shifting and she wanted to keep it light. So she takes a deep breath and shifts gears, "we should eat before it gets cold."
"Right." He joins her at the table and it feels oddly intimate, more so than when they were pretending to be married.
He seems equally taken aback and she decides she could care less about the temperature of the food.
"Steve?"
He looks up, "yeah?"
"Do you remember when I kissed you? Back at the compound? And you told me that they weren't watching?"
The instant blush across his cheeks is maddeningly endearing. "Yeah." His voice rasps, then he clears it, "yeah."
"Why did you stop me?"
His wide eyes match his stunned expression. "What?"
"You told me they weren't watching. So we didn't need to kiss."
His eyes flick to hers and then her lips and back up, "yeah?"
"Why did you stop me from kissing you?"
He clears his throat, hands crinkling the plastic bag the food is in, "they weren't watching. We didn't need to pretend."
"So you didn't want to kiss me?" She stands, looking down at him, stepping closer, "did you not want to kiss me?"
"I mean…" he's nervous, leaning back and trying not to look at her, "I just-"
"Just what?"
"I would never take advantage of a situation like that." he forces out, hands now in his lap.
"So… you did want to kiss me?"
He stands up, pushing the chair back and moving away from her slightly, "Listen, I haven't forgotten what Thompson said at the beginning. I'm not an idiot. I know how to separate reality from fiction."
That makes her pause. He's worried about being the runt confessing his attraction to her first.
Well, she can fix that problem.
"Steve?"
"Hmm?" He's another step away from her.
"I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you almost every day on that damn mission. Not because we were pretending, but because I fell in love with you. Day after day, moment after moment."
His brow furrows, like she's presented him with a difficult math problem. "And I am going to kiss you now. Because I want to kiss you. Unless you don't want me to?"
She steps closer again and this time he does not step back. But as she gets close enough to reach out, he holds up his hands, stopping her. "This isn't a prank?"
She laughs, softly and with mirth. "It absolutely is not a prank. You couldn't tell how much I wanted to kiss you back on the mission?"
"I just thought you were a really great actress," he answers, seeming in disbelief. So he had noticed and written it off.
"Well, I am. And I'm not." she clarifies. "Now I'm going to kiss you. For real."
And she does.
"Any reason why Rogers has a lipstick mark on his neck he's clearly not aware of that matches the color on your lips?"
Peggy laughs, not caring at all that her boss is eyeing her with amused annoyance.
"I finally found a place he can't see, but that others can. Lorraine was getting snippy. So, I just wanted to make it clear that he is otherwise engaged."
Philips shakes his head, "he has a meeting with higher ups this afternoon."
"I'll catch him before then." she grins.
"See that you do."
It takes a few months, but eventually Barnes warms up to her, and before long, they're squabbling like siblings over Steve's cookies while he rolls his eyes fondly at them.
She looks at the wall where both napkins are now framed and hung.
She'd asked about the rubber duckies. Barnes had blushed wildly and Steve had trie dto explain, mischievousness on his face before Barnes had dragged him from the room.
She meets Rebecca and the rest of the Barnes' who she takes to immediately. THey are so sweet and kind and she can see why Steve views them as his family.
One day, Steve drops a photo on her desk. It's his mother, and she can tell it's Sean.
"Where did you get this?"
"Foley's wife contacted me. She's sent me to Foley's great aunt. Had family photos.
"Did she recognize you?"
Steve shakes his head, "no. She seemed to be suffering from dementia. But I got copies of a few photos she had of him. Only one with my ma though. But I'm glad to have one."
Peggy nods, "I'm happy for you."
"I saw Natalia yesterday."
"How's she doing?"
"Great. Her and Yelena are really thriving. It's great."
"I'm glad. They deserve to live a better life."
"Yeah…" he says, then he smiles at her, "you still coming over tonight for dinner?"
"And miss the monopoly rematch? I wouldn't dream of it."
He laughs, "okay. See you then."
He's about to turn and leave but she snags his wrist, pulling him back a step. He stumbles and she steadies him, kissing him mercilessly in front of all her coworkers and not giving a damn.
They part and he looks dazed for a second before blushing and straightening his collar, "you can't do that." he teases, "I need to be able to think for the rest of the day."
She laughs, wiping her lipstick from his mouth and shrugging, "oh who cares. We get off in three hours."
He laughs and then she lets him go.
Thomspon whistles once he's gone, "can't believe you fell for the runt." He says it lightly, since he actually knows and wisely respects Steve now.
But Peggy is in too good of a mood to be bothered. "Oh trust me," she says with a smirk, "he's no runt."
The sound of Thompson choking on his coffee makes the rest of the day infinitely more bearable.