Steve looks at the paper and it's like her hands are on him again. But he knows eyes are on him, so he slowly hands the invitation to Peggy and he turns to Ms. Nancy, "how have things been since we left, any issues?"

Her eyes soften and she shakes her head, "no, sir. Everything's been fine."

Steve's smile is tight, but he tries to make it genuine, "okay, wonderful." Then he leaves them standing in the foyer and walks up the stairs.

—

Peggy feels sick, and angry, "that bitch."

Ms. Nancy puts a hand over her heart and Angie nods in agreement, "I mean, I do not even care that you're the unification couple. You shouldn't go."

Ms. Nancy looks about fretfully, her hands fidgeting. She's getting quite on in years but her spirit and dedication to them has never wavered. It had taken a few years for her to ask. Peggy had been surprised by it, but one year, back when she was pregnant with Isaac, Ms. Nancy had hesitantly asked if she could speak to her.

—

"Yes?" Peggy responds, "of course."

"I was…" Ms. Nancy looks ill with uncertainty, "It is none of my business, and if you shall say so, then I wouldn't dare to ask again… but…"

She falls silent and Peggy winces, shifting her hands over her belly to adjust Isaac as he twists around inside her, "No need to be worried, what is it?"

"I've come to view Mr. Rogers as a sort of…" she smiles guiltily, "a sort of son of my own."

Peggy grins, "I can tell, you both dote on each other quite frequently. Even Sarah has mentioned it."

Ms. Nancy smiles so softly and nods, "I've never met a sweeter boy, and of course… because that is so… I feel a sort of protectiveness for him."

Peggy wants to laugh at the frailish old lady protecting Steve, a massive giant whose strength has yet to meet a match, but she understands the desire. She's fiercely protective of Steve too. "And?" Peggy urges.

"And so…" Ms. Nancy suddenly looks determined, "when you dismissed Ms. Davies… I knew it was because of the thievery. I saw it with my own eyes when you brought those items down and I knew she earned that dismissal…" Peggy's face falls and Ms. Nancy sees it, "But see?" She shakes her head, "that right there. Not even thievery makes people react to a name the way you and Mr. Rogers react to her name. I swear I mentioned her the other day in relation to some far forgottten item in the house and you would have thought I ran a feather up his spine. The poor boy couldn't change the subject fast enough. And I would like to know why."

Peggy thinks of all the woman has done for them. How she has cared for their household and fed them. And Peggy slowly sinks into a chair, pointing at another, "please sit."

The woman does and she looks worried, like she knows she's not going to like the answer.

"Do you remember when I fell through the ice?"

"Of course I do."

"And for months and months how Steve kept the house practically blazing because I couldn't regulate my temperature?"

"Yes…"

"Did you know that I would sleep next to him in his bed to stay warm at night?"

Ms. Nancy blinks, "back when you weren't…" she struggles to describe it, "back when you weren't choosing to stay?"

Peggy nods. "Back when I was in love with Steve but fully denying it? Yes." She grins, "and he was running and still does run so warm, have you noticed?"

Ms. Nancy nods, "yes, I've noticed,"

"Well at night, I would get so cold or have such horrible nightmares. Steve would allow me to use his warmth and his presence to stay my mind. And he was ever such a gentleman about it." Ms. Nancy's eyes are filled with mirth.

"He loved you so much, we all could see it."

Peggy winces, "I wanted to pretend it wasn't true. And he told me he loved me and asked me to stay. And I rebuked him."

She frowns, "I remember the iciness between the two of you."

"Well, during that period of time, Lorraine decided that she was going to attempt to woo Steve." The woman's eyes widen and Peggy nods, "she stole my lipstick, and doused herself in my perfume and she snuck into his bed." Ms. Nancy gasps, clapping a weathered old hand over her mouth, "he thought it was me at first, come to apologize or tell him I wanted to stay, but then he realized very quickly it wasn't me. He tried to get her to leave but she was persistent, and she was…" she grimaces, "rather forward and undressed."

"Well, I never!" Ms. Nancy huffs.

"She really forced herself on him until he demanded she leave and she did. But not before tricking me into thinking they'd actually lain together—" her eyes are impossibly wide, "— which is when I ran away to Eporue."

Understanding dawns and the woman shakes her head, "we'll no wonder he acts like the woman's name is the plague."

"Indeed."

—

"He can't go." Ms. Nancy agrees, "we won't allow it."

The thick velvety paper runs under her fingertips, "we will think about our response." She hands the envelope back to Ms. Nancy, "I'll go talk to him."

Angie follows along behind her, "she sent this on purpose."

"Possibly." Peggy responds softly, "although it is still expected to invite us to weddings."

"No one would have said a word if you weren't invited."

"I don't know. Some of the council members still hold it over my head. Although… you're probably correct that it's more of a thorn in our side. Even though its been over a decade."

"So you're going to go?"

"I don't know. Not going would almost be more of a big deal. THen we woudl have to visit personally."

"Again, no one would require that."

"And what would people say?" She asks with an eyebrow raise. "What would people wonder if the only wedding we don't attend or visit afterwards is one of our former maids? Wouldn't that just draw more attention than attending the wedding and being done with it?"

Angie frowns at her and she frowns back.

—

She checks on the children. Isaac is dutifully unpacking and arranging his things. Ivy has already tossed half of her things on the ground and gotten distracted by the toys she received from her Uncle Michael.

But she wanders up to the third floor and heads past her door, which Howrad had eventually made into a pottery studio for her. A place to use her hands and take her minds\ off of things, and towards Steve's door.

She walks in to find him staring out the windows, the sinking sun making his hair glow.

"We could not go."

He sighs, his head shaking, "I already heard your conversation with Angie. I know you're right."

Peggy winces, she forgets sometimes how excellent his hearing is. There would be nights he would be up and out of the bed before one of their children had even started crying, just hearing the sounds of them waking up.

"I don't care." Peggy responds, "logic be damned. We won't go."

He turns back to face her and he smiles that smile that makes her want to melt, "as much as I love that you'd be willing, you were right. We will just go and be done with it."

"I won't let her get within 10 feet of you."

His smile turns to a grin, "Ms. Carter, my protector."

"Mr. Rogers, you need to be protected."

He holds out his hand and gestures her forward, "Come here." The slight order in his tone makes her skin tingle.

"And if I don't?"

He raises an eyebrow, "you know what happens when you disobey orders."

She stalks forward, "I do believe I remember you ripping my favorite dress off and pressing me against this window."

He laughs, "I had given you plenty of warning."

"Yes, well I suppose I'm a slow learner. Shall you teach me again?"

"If you remember correctly that lesson had a name and it's Ivy."

Peggy steps into his embrace, "It could have been later that night, or the day after."

He kisses her neck and then forehead, "you're questioning me."

She looks up at him, her lips pursed in amusement, "never. I trust your instincts." His warm hand rests on her waist and she senses the shift, from teasing to morose. "What is it?"

"Why do I feel nauseous at just the thought of seeing her?" He shakes his head, "it makes me feel weak."

Peggy tilts her head, gently grasping his chin to get him to look at her, "being appalled by the woman does not make you weak. If I had a man force himself on me, would you expect me to ever forget? To just 'get over it' and not be skittish in his presence?"

His hands tighten on her, his face shifting to anger, "if any man even thought about touching you I would—" She places a finger to his lips.

"That's not the point. I'm not trying to rile you up. I'm just saying that healing from something like that is not linear. And you've barely seen her since she moved away to the far outskirts of the village. Making it almost more awkward to be reunited." The slow nod and the way his shoulders drop makes her relax as well, "I won't leave your side." Peggy states.

"No, it's not that I'm worried she'll try something." Steve responds, spinning her to hold her tightly, her back to his chest and both staring out the window, "just bad memories."

—-

A few weeks later, Steve walks to Ivy's room and knocks before gently opening the door, "Ivy?"

"Yes, Papa?" She's laying on her bed, a pen and parchment in front of her.

"Dinner is almost ready." He sees that her hand covers something on the parchment and he steps closer, "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." She says quickly, shoving the paper under herself and looking at him innocently, "I'll be right down."

He crouches by the bed and raises an eyebrow, "I think if I wanted to tickle it out of you—" he threatens, reaching towards her.

She giggles, him not even having made contact and wiggles further away, crumpling what's under her. He reaches for it and her eyes widen, "no, papa, don't!"

His hand stills and he pulls it back, "is it a secret?"

Her head shakes and she sits up, shoving it behind her.

"Why can't I know?" He asks, not sure how hard he should press.

"It's not ready."

"Okay…" he answers slowly, "but you'll show it to me when it is ready?"

Her brow furrows, a small frown appearing, "maybe."

Steve stands, "why maybe?"

"Only if it's good."

"Only if what's good?"

She goes silent and he sinks onto the bed next to her. He blinks, briefly trying to draw up the memory of what he'd seen as he opened the door, "were you drawing?"

Her face turns embarrassed and she shakes her head, "no."

But she's like him. Her face telegraphing most emotions. This one showing guilt at lying. "Ivy, you can trust me. You know I love to draw."

At this her resolve cracks and she huffs, "I know, that's why I can't show you."

Surprise reels him back, "what, why?"

"Because it's not good like yours." Her arms cross in a pout and she stares at the floor.

Mouth agape, he takes a second to process and then leans forward, tugging her onto his lap and running a hand over her hair, "first of all, I'm sure it's wonderful. And if we're talking skill level, I believe I've got quite the amount of years on you, so that's not a fair comparison. But also, just because I've drawn more than you, doesn't mean that doesn't mean yours is worth less or even that it is 'worse quality'." He tilts her face up and looks into the blue eyes that almost mirror his, just a hint of hazel around the edges, "if you draw it, I will love it."

"I don't want you to love it because you're my papa." She pouts, "I want you to love it because it's good."

He hears so much of Peggy in that. "How about you show it to me." He says amicably, "and I'll give it a real art critic."

She glares at him, "you'll be honest?"

"Have I ever lied to you?" He asks, pretending to be hurt by her question.

A small grin appears and she reaches back to where she was sitting and grabs the crumpled paper. She turns it over and flattens it as best she can.

Steve stares in wonder. It's a house, their house, and he sees the tree off to the side and the beginnings of a carriage to the other side.

"My…" he says, wanting to immediately gush and praise the artwork, but she's studying his face and he takes a second, studying it with a reserved expression.

"Well?" She asks impatiently, getting her nose close to his. Stvee has to resist the urge to grin and squeeze her tightly in a hug, seeing her expression be so eager to please him.

"I think that I am quite impressed with a few things." He says slowly, making sure to not sound biased. "Your depth perception, see these lines here? The way you've tried to make the house look multi dimensional?" She nods, "that's wonderful. An amazing skill to have at your age." Then he points to the tree, "I love that you've added depth to the bark, and shaded the canopy to look layered." Then he points to the other side, "I think your carriage needs some work—" it almost pains him to critique anything, But she won't accept false praise. Since the moment she was born she's wanted to earn every ounce of her skills. "Your horse is not quite right, the proportions." She's studying the horse, following the way his fingers trace the shape, "I had trouble with living things too at first, they move and each one is different, you know?" Then he points to the corner, "never forget to sign your work when you finish. Claim it as yours."

She's quiet for a moment and he prays that he chose right, and didn't crush her spirit, "how did you get better at horses?"

He smiles and taps the paper, "I never stopped trying to draw them. That's how. The human eye knows when something looks right. So eventually, after studying pictures of them and seeing them in person, or drawing them over and over, I got a feel of how to draw them at all angles, and then it became second nature. And once I felt comfortable drawing them in a realistic manner, I could draw or paint them in all different styles."

Her eyes run over the paper and she looks up, "can you teach me?"

Steve's hands practically shake with joy as he hauls her into a hug and holds her tight, "of course, of course. Anything you want."

She laughs and wiggles out of his arms, "let's go right now!"

He laughs, "dinner first, then art."

She pouts and then thinks about it, "you know, I am hungry."

The way she runs from the room and towards the kitchen makes him laugh harder. She truly was her mother's daughter.

—-

That night in their bedroom, Steve relays Ivy's desire to learn about art and Peggy sees the absolute radiant joy emanating from him as he gestures wildly, describing her picture, "I mean, for eight?" He gushes, "she's incredible! I had to try to think of what to critique so she would believe me, and I wasn't lying. Her proportions were off, but she's eight." He's tugging at his neck tie, not making any progress on getting it off and not even noticing his own ongoing struggle, "she's going to be amazing if she wants to be. She's far more skilled than I was at eight. I can't believe she's interested in art—" he's still tugging at it, staring out the dark window, "you know you always hope your kids will be interested in the things you are, but you can't force them." He's still tugging at it, "I have to not be pushy, don't let me be pushy. I just want her to love art like I do. I don't want it to be a chore."

Peggy stands, walking over and stilling his hands, causing him to look down. "Let me untie this before it becomes permanently affixed around your neck." His deep chuckle makes her smile and she manages to get it untied and off of him. "I'm very glad she's moved on from jumping off banisters."

"Don't remind me." He huffs out, "that was the scariest moment of fatherhood so far."

He hasn't noticed that she's unbuttoning her shirt, but when her fingers make contact with his skin he looks at her, eyes dilating. "I'm famished."

His throat bobs with his swallow and he steps closer, pulling her in tighter, "you want me to go to the kitchens?"

It's his usual tease.

"That's not what I'm hungry for and you know it."

Suddenly she's being lifted and she wraps her legs around his waist as he holds her walking her towards the bed. The way he lays her gently down, resting himself on top of her without crushing her already makes her heart rate rise, "I missed you too."

"Somehow I didn't imagine my physical life being interrupted by my niece." Peggy comments dryly. She expects some witty or wry comment back but Steve is looking up at the headboard, eyes far away. "What is it?"

It takes a second but he just shakes his head, "nothing," she feels the way his hand slips under her nightshift, running soft fingers up her calf and to her thigh, "just must be off count."

She's about to ask 'the count of what' but she gets too distracted to think about anything else.

—

"Should we bring them, or leave them at home?" Peggy asks, studying Steve's expression.

"We've brought them to every wedding so far."

"And we don't have to."

"Perhaps it will be good." He says, trying to convince himself, "they can keep us distracted, you know? We have our children. That's what we have to focus on."

"Or we can leave them at home and need to get back early to them."

"If we're there, just us two, then you know… we'd be less preoccupied."

Peggy nods, "okay, we will bring them."

Steve wrinkles his nose as if he hadn't just argued for that exact thing. "Okay."

—

Peggy takes extra care the morning of. She's thankfully aged gracefully, or as Steve will assure her, 'more becoming with each passing moment', but she still notices the little differences in her face, hair and hands.

"Mama!" She looks up to see Ivy in her doorway, in the light pink dress with the cream trimmings, "Ms. Angie picked it out for me!"

"It looks beautiful." Peggy smiles, "you look like summer personified."

Her daughter blinks at her and then tilts her head, "what does that mean?"

"If summer was a human—" Peggy explains, standing and walking to her daughter, gently running her daughter's golden strands through her fingers and tapping her rosy cheeks against her soft skin, "summer would look just like you."

Her daughter smiles and wiggles, "I love summer."

"And I love you, my darling, is Isaac ready?"

"He's already helping Mr. Coulson with the horses!"

"Wonderful, it's almost an hour of a trip so head on down and I'll be there in a moment."

The girl is gone in a flash and Peggy straightens her corset.

"Are you worried?"

She turns to see Angie bringing in her dress. "About?"

"About Lorraine."

"If she so much as lays a finger on Steve I will personally remove it from her body."

"What a sight that would be."

"It's been years." Peggy tries to assure herself, "perhaps she's… different."

Angie shrugs, "maybe."

"It will be fine."

"Of course." Angie says, finishing her lacings and tucking the ends in, "I'm sure it will."

—

The ceremony goes as normal. At the beginning of the reception, Lorraine only glances at them briefly, seeming unsurprised that they actually showed up. Her eyes fall to the two children, then with no expression she turns back to whoever she was talking to.

Peggy thinks that will be it.

It isn't.

The night wears on, and Peggy is glad they brought their children, she's glad for their company and distraction. She recognizes most of the guests from the village even if she's not extremely familiar with them. None of Steve's close friends or family is here.

She and Steve say their small speech and that's when Peggy notices that Lorraine's eyes follow him a bit too closely. The woman also always has a glass in her hand, her voice getting louder as she imbibes further, the alcohol whittling away her inhibitions.

Peggy stears them away after they've finished their Unification Couple duties and she keeps her head about her, not having more than a single sip of champagne and keeping Steve within her eyesight.

The wedding is winding down and she's just gone to place their gift on the table when she hears a throat clear.

She turns to see the groom standing there behind her, "hello." She says slowly, a bit confused.

"So you're the bitch who fired my wife."

The statement makes Peggy's blood pressure rise and she huffs out a laugh, "you mean after she stole my belongings and attempted to—" she cuts herself off, no time for that now, "I fired her fair and square. She was dismissed for good reason."

"And here you are, showing up to our wedding."

"As is expected of us." She snaps, "you could have not sent an invitation at all."

He glares at her, "we didn't. Lorraine would never invite you."

She scoffs, "well she did. Her very own bloody handwriting was on the envelope!"

The man blinks and Peggy can see the liquor is warring in his mind, "no she didn't. She told me she didn't want either of you near our special day."

"Well then chalk that up to her list of lies." Peggy snarls out, "now if you'll excuse me—"

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" She and the groom turn to the small stage where the sweetheart table is set up and Lorraine stands, a glass in her hand, nearly empty, "we're all so glad to have you this evening." Peggy follows her eyeline scanning the crowd, and sees it land on Steve at the far side of the crowd, Isaac by his side and Ivy in his arms, at the table with the sweets. "I wondered if you all know what special guests we have here tonight!" Her blood runs cold, at the predatorial way her eyes pin onto Steve, "not only are they the unification couple," she grins, her swaying stance clearly transcribing that she's had far far too much to drink, "but they're also my former employers." She laughs, and the groom is walking towards her, Peggy starts to make her way towards the far side, but she's too slow, "he's also the first man to see me naked—" Lorraine guffaws, as if it's funny, "the first man I laid naked in bed with and kissed." Peggy hears the gasp of the crowd, but she can't stop, she shoves through two people, finally catching sight of Steve again who looks stricken and frozen in place. "Then I'm suddenly fired?" Her laugh is wobbly, sloshing her drink on her white dress, "sounds like jealousy to me, Carter." Peggy turns, catching Lorraine's eyes on her now and wagging her finger, "remember? You didn't even want him. But I couldn't have him either. So selfish." Her groom is there, now trying to shush her, "but a wonderful kisser." Lorraine spews loudly, "the unification couple, everyone!" She claps, her eyes a bit wild as the alcohol drives her mind from all logic, "what a wonderful example they are to all of us!" The last words switch to spiteful and the glass in her hand shatters on the ground as she drops it.

"We're leaving." Peggy says, looking at Steve who she can tell isn't breathing. Ivy looks confused, but Isaac's looking at his father like he's staring at a stranger. She will kill Lorraine for this. "Let's go." Peggy orders, shoving hard at Steve's shoulder, "come on, ignore her."

The groom has pulled her back off the stage into the crowd and the guests are all staring in disbelief at them, while sending eyebrow raises and judgemental glances at her and Steve.

"Isaac, go tell Mr. Coulson we're leaving." The boy is glaring at his father but then turns away, running towards the stables. "Steve?" Peggy tries, "Steve, listen to me, we're leaving." He's not listening. His eyes look impossibly far away and the absolute stricken look hasn't left his expression.

"Mama?" Ivy asks, "what did that lady mean?"

"Nothing." She says harshly, then takes a deep breath, "she's confused." Peggy tries again, grabbing the girl from Steve's arms, "come on, we're going home."

"But Papa hadn't let me get a sweet yet."

"Ms. Nancy has her cinnamon rolls at home. We will have one of those alright?"

The girl shrugs, "alright."

"Steven Grant Rogers, we are leaving."

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't resist when she pushes him out of the candlelight and crowds into the darker area of trees surrounding the clearing. She holds Ivy tightly and pulls his hand, hearing the stables as they approach.

Mr. Coulson is watching with unsure eyes as Steve is wordlessly getting in the carriage.

"What happened?" He asks softly, after she's placed Ivy back into his arms. The girl looking at her father strangely, since he's never behaved this way before.

Peggy closes the door and steps a few feet away, "Lorraine." She bites out, "I should never have let us come to this damn wedding!" She hisses out— then she huffs, "I forgot my purse!"

"I can go get it." Mr. Coulson offers.

"No, I'll run and grab it, you keep an eye on Steve." She looks around, "where's Isaac?"

"He seemed out of sorts. I sent him to grab a bucket of water for the horses before the trip."

"Okay, I'll be back in a moment."

She's just grabbed her purse, and made it to the trail that leads to the stables when a voice calls to her, "enjoy the show?"

Her spine goes so rigid she's surprised it doesn't snap. Her slow turn reveals a perfectly sober Lorraine, standing there backlit by the candlelight and glow of the party behind her, a sly grin on her face. Disbelief swells over Peggy, "you planned this?"

"Well…" Lorraine says with a mock thoughtful face, "not so much planned as it just happened. I mean… I knew you'd come. Heard how you hadn't skipped a single wedding except weather or one in sickness. Knew you'd choose this over having to visit in person."

"You would ruin your own wedding for this!" Her tone is sharp, furious.

"Ruin my wedding?" Lorraine asks, then she laughs, "no, no, no—" She shakes her head, "the only thing people will remember tonight is that Steve used me in bed while he was married to you and that you fired me after."

Peggy steps forward, ready to tear the woman to shreds, but there's something sick in her gut, "why? Why?!" She gestures to the wedding, "you're married, you have a man who loves you! Why be so horrid to him!?"

"Horrid to you." She says as if it's simple, "but in everyone else's eyes I just became the victim." Her eyes narrow and she points a finger at Peggy, "after I was dismissed by you no one would hire me! You ruined my life by labeling me a thief! This helps me change that narrative."

"You were a thief! And I never even told anyone!"

Lorraine looks briefly surprised, but then she doubles down. "Don't lie! Everyone knew why I was sent away! It took years for anyone to treat me normally again! And I still didn't have enough work. I barely had enough to feed myself until I moved to the outskirts!"

"You're a wretched vile bitch!" Peggy snaps, anger and fury raging through her, she was supposed to protect Steve from this! "Are you so evil that you would cause him even more pain than you already have! You know you threw yourself at him! And then you make him sound like the voyeur!"

"He's not so perfect—" Lorraine snaps out, "and it's high time I get some justice for what was done to me—"

Peggy steps forward, ready to rip her apart when a calm voice speaks from behind her, "Mrs. Rogers?"

Peggy hears Mr. Coulson approach. He steps between the two of them and faces Lorraine, "Ms. Davies. How unpleasant to see you again. I hope you've been unwell." Then he turns to Peggy and he flicks his eyes to the stables, "Ivy is wondering where you went, let's go home, shall we?"

"Oh," Lorraine laughs, "It's Mos. Rogers now is it? Decided he was worth your time after all?" As Mr Coulson urges her to walk away, Lorraine fires one last shot, "enjoy explaining all that to your son!"

Peggy turns, hands in fists but Mr. Coulson stops her, holding her back, shaking his head, "she's not worth it, she's not worth anything." He pulls her back and Peggy allows herself to be dragged away.

—

Isaac stands at the door of the carriage, looking mad and arms crossed over his chest. Steve is sitting up on the bench where Coulson sits.

"What's going on?" She asks, Mr. Coulson also looking confused.

"He's riding up there." Isaac says fiercely, looking like he's ready to go to war for that argument.

"Why?"

"Peggy." Steve's voice says wearily, "it's fine. Can we please just go home?"

She looks ready to argue but Steve's crestfallen and exhausted expression makes her fall silent. So she climbs in the carriage and sits, Isaac following shortly after. Ivy crawls into her lap and she holds her daughter tightly the whole way home.

—

After Peggy puts Ivy to bed, her cinnamon roll promise fulfilled, she walks slowly to Isaac's room. But he's not there.

Her soft footsteps lead her to their bedroom, but it's also empty.

So she scours the house and only as she passes a window does she see Steve out in the backyard, sitting on a stone bench.

Quickly she makes her way out to him. "Steve?"

The wind makes her shiver but she sits beside him. He doesn't respond at first, but then she hears a brittle and whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"What in heavens are you apologizing for?" She asks aghast, "that wretch of a woman is at fault!"

Steve stays quiet and she stands, turning to face him and she glares at him, stabbing a finger at him, "this is my fault! We should never have gone, we should have sent a note or— or damn the council! We should have just not gone!"

His eyes don't even look at her, just stare at his hands, "Steve, please, you know it wasn't your fault! That night, she was—"

"Isaac does."

The words stop her cold, "what?"

"Isaac just made it very clear what he thought of me as a man."

Peggy steps back and a hand coming up to her chest, "excuse me?" She sees in the moonlight the way his shoulders are hunched as if he'd just been reprimanded. "What on earth did he say?"

"Enough."

She can hear the anguish in his voice, "did you even try to explain to him the situation?"

"He asked if what she said was true—" he looks up at her and there are tear tracks coursing down his face, "and I couldn't lie—'

"But the context!" She practically snaps, "did you explain how it came about?"

"I tried, but he just shouted that I was full of excuses. And perhaps I am—"

Her sharp intake of air makes her woozy, placing a hand to her head, "no." Her hair protests as she shakes her head wildly, "no we've discussed this at length. You are not at fault just because you could have physically restrained her! That's not how this works and I'll not have this regression of thought on who is to blame!"

"He hates me, Peggy." He shoves his face in his hands, "he hates me."

"He's thirteen, he doesn't understand."

"What's to understand?" Steve says in a broken angry tone, "his father kissed another woman while she was naked in his bed. There's no erasing that knowledge from him."

"It may seem like that now, but I'm not going to allow him to think any such nonsense about you!" She stamps her foot, "you're acting like the story doesn't matter! It matters! He doesn't have any true idea what happened and I'm furious that you didn't defend yourself to him!"

His eyes look down at the ground and he doesn't respond. And something suspicious and awful curls in her instincts, "Steven…" he doesn't look up at her, "Steven, it wasn't your fault." No response, "Right?" He still doesn't respond, "We've talked about this." Still silent, "no amount of baking lessons and her flirting with you is an acceptable lead up to her showing up in your room wearing my perfume!"

"But maybe I could have—"

"No!" She snaps, jabbing his chest with her finger, "no! There is no but!" She huffs, tears threatening to overspill, "why can't you understand? You did not invite her to your bed!"

And she's tired of having to reverse the situation to make him understand, "if a man did it to me, would you blame me for his appearance in my room? Would you think that maybe I'd done something to have deserved him pouncing on me like she did to you? Expose himself even when I'd asked him to leave? Trick me by wearing your cologne?"

His shoulders sag even further and she captures his face in her hands, "I won't hear of this a minute more. The only person to blame is Lorraine."

She watches the way he slowly blinks and she wipes away the tears with her thumbs, "and Isaac is not a fool. I will ensure he understands. Now come to bed."

Steve winces, "Isaac ordered me to stay out of our room."

Peggy blinks, and then she scoffs, "oh did he?"

"He didn't want me near you. Said I didn't deserve to be."

Peggy narrows her eyes, "and your son is giving the orders now?"

"He was already so mad I didn't want to argue with him."

Peggy sighs, "I always thought he had your temperament, but perhaps there's more of me in there than I realize." Then she pulls him up off the bench and points to the house. YOu better be in our bed before I get there and that is an order I expect to be obeyed."

Then she walks quickly towards the house. Needing to find her eldest.

—

"Isaac."

He's at his desk. "I'm writing to Uncle Michael." Isaac responds, not looking back at her, "And tomorrow I'll tell Mr. Coulson we're heading to Eporue."

Peggy rolls her eyes and then walks towards him, "and why would we do that?"

He looks up, "we're leaving."

She raises an eyebrow, "and why would we do that?"

"You heard what that woman said about father—"

She leans forward, "don't tell me you believe what that woman said about your father."

Uncertainty crosses his expression as he looks at her, "he didn't deny it. He's always taught me to treat all girls with respect. He's a hypocrite!"

The candle flickers in the room and she watches the shadow dance as she formulates her thoughts. "Isaac…" She sees so much of both her and Steve in his stubborn expression, "I don't think we ever expected to have to tell you this story. It's not a pleasant one, and I worry you are too young…" then she looks at him appraisingly, "do you think you could handle a story that requires much maturity?"

He frowns, "of course I can."

She resists the urge to purse her lips in amusement. "Alright," she scoots back in the bed until she's leaning against the headboard, patting the spot next to her, "come sit next to me."

He rises from the desk and settles next to her on the bed.

"You've probably learned from context that your father and I did not choose to wed each other, right?"

"The Unification Couple."

"Exactly. And at first, we were both miserable because we were total strangers."

He's watching her face closely, listening intently.

"I was absolutely vile to your father." Surprise registers across his features and she nods, "I said horrid things to him and about him." She runs her fingers through his soft fine brown hair that matches hers, "and for almost a year that's how it went. BUt through many trials and tribulations, I learned that I was in fact, deeply in love with your father, and he'd been in love with me for even longer."

"But—"

"Shh…" she chides, "let me finish." Her head rests back against the headboard and she closes her eyes, "Lorraine, the woman tonight, wanted your father because of his status as Unification Groom and the money that came along with it. Not to mention your father is the kindest and sweetest man on the planet." She looks at him, waiting for him to argue, but the boy just narrows his eyes as if he knows he's being challenged, "so, after a while, she started to get brazen in her ways to get him to acknowledge her. And since he showed no desire towards her, she got desperate." He's listening, eyes trained on her face, "so one night, she stole a bottle of my perfume, and snuck into your father's room pretending to be me." Shock wide eyes begin to form. "She climbed into your father's bed while he was asleep and kissed him, trying to convince him that he should want her instead."

His young face looks on in disbelief, "and while she did try to undress and persuade your father, he turned her away flat. She was in his room for less than a few minutes and nothing else happened." She looks at him firmly, "and I don't need you telling your father where he can or cannot sleep." He opens his mouth but she shakes her head, "If you had seen the way your father avoided that woman like she had the plague every moment they were in the house together after that—" she sighs, "you wouldn't doubt me for a second."

"He could have shoved her away—"

"He 'would have, could have, should have' done nothing." Peggy says firmly, "while she was persistent, he wasn't in physical danger, and putting his hands on her could have made her accuse him. She's not sane. And I won't have you blame your father that he should have 'done this' or 'done that'." She wags her finger at him, "that woman accosted your father without his consent. That means she is fully at fault. He never reciprocated or invited her, and he wanted and still wants nothing to do with her. Do you understand?"

Isaac takes a moment, thinking and processing all she said, "why didn't he just tell me that?"

The words make Peggy sigh and she leans back, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder as she runs her fingers along his scalp, "your father loves you and Ivy more than he loves himself. He saw your anger and heard your words and he doubted himself." Isaac looks up at her and she raises an eyebrow, "he's been plagued by the same nonsense that you've just stated. That since he is physically bigger, that he should have manhandled her out of his room." She looks at him pointedly, "but it was not his responsibility to keep her from assaulting him. And saying that him being physical to remove her would have made the situation less fraught is ignoring the fact that she was there of her own free will and chose to do what she did. She is at fault. No one else."

There's a long silence and then he whispers out, "I didn't know."

"I know." She says back, "but now you do. And you owe him an apology."

"What are father's scars from?"

The question throws her for a loop, "excuse me?"

"Dalia asked me…" he shifts, sitting up, "and I didn't know the answer."

"Oh…" she starts, then pauses, he's still never fully gone into detail about it like his mother had. "That's a story for your father to tell." She answers softly, "but not tonight. First it's an apology and then to bed."

He nods and walks out the door, leaving her sitting there, thoughts in a whirlwind.

—-

Steve seems much more at ease when she appears in the bedroom. "How did it go?"

"He apologized." Steve states, looking at the door, "and he seemed somber."

"I'm sure he did. He asked about your scars."

Steve looks up in surprise, "what? Why?"

"Dalia asked him."

"Oh."

"You know…" she starts, "it strikes me as odd that to this day you really haven't even told me what happened."

"Yes, I have." Steve says quickly, turning to pull down the covers.

"No." She says sharply, "you haven't. Your mother has."

He looks up, wide eyes meeting hers, "what?"

"She's told me the truth. Everytime I asked, you just said some bare bones version. And I didn't press. Is that the story you plan on telling them?"

His shoulders hunch and his voice is brittle, "would you rather I tell them the truth?"

"I don't get to make that decision. That's up to you." But then she gets onto the bed and settles behind him, wrapping her legs and arms around his torso, holding him, "but most people in the village know something happened to you. If he asks he'll most likely hear some version of the events. Wouldn't you rather him hear the truth from you?"

"No one talks about it anymore." He says, sounding like he's relieved at the fact, "so I'll just tell him the same thing Tony knows and that can be that."

She pauses, "wait, what does Anthony know?"

"Just that I saved him and got really sick from the cold. That's it."

She scoots back, pulling him backwards so his head is in her lap and she looks down at him incredulously, "the child you saved doesn't even know what you sacrificed?"

"What would be the point of him knowing?" Steve asks, looking confused, "to make him feel guilty? Make him feel indebted to me? No thank you, Howard is bad enough acting like I'm some sort of savior to his child. This house being an example." Then he tilts his head, "when did my mother tell you?"

"Back right after my accident with the ice, while you slept behind me in front of your fireplace. She said it must have brought back terrible memories, and I asked why. And she told me."

He looks at her, mouth agape, "you've known all this time?"

She nods.

His eyes close, and she runs her fingers through his hair, "I always wished you could trust me with that."

"It's not about trust." He responds slowly, eyes still closed. "People don't see you the same after they've seen you dead." He swallows, "I'm never normal again in their eyes."

Gently she presses a kiss to his lips, the angle creating a new sensation as she kisses him upside down. After a second of urging, he responds, mouth moving with hers as she feels the tension and passion start to rise.

"You don't—" he says breathless, in between kisses, "think it's weird that I died?"

Her heart clenches at that statement and she leans over, shoving his shirt aside and pressing her ear to his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart, "you are very much alive. And the only thing I ever thought when I learned about your death was how honorable your sacrifice was." She presses a kiss there and looks up at him, "there is no man who compares even the slightest to you. I could search this earth for a thousand years and never find your equal."

She can hear the way his heartbeat picks up at her words and it makes her smile. And then he's back to kissing her and she lets him.

—

She wakes sore in a pleasant way that makes her grin and snuggle closer to his warmth. She knows she'll have bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in places that thankfully no one will ever see.

Their possessiveness for each other had run wild with them last night, and she was not eager to leave the bed. His hand rested on her bar hip, his heat making her feel warm and safe.

"Morning."

She turns, finding him blinking awake, sleep still clinging on, "good morning to you." She responds with a smile.

"I think one of your bite marks might actually last a day or so." He teases, scrunching his nose at her and yawning.

"Oh really?" She asks, her own voice teasing, "I was hoping it would. It's not fair how fast yours disappear."

He shrugs, still looking sleepy, "I'm just stronger than you." He blinks one eye, pretending not to notice the way she narrows her eyes at him.

"Oh, is that so?"

He nods,

"I'm sorry to state that you are incorrect."

He grins, "let's see." Without warning, he pulls the covers down, making her yelp as the cold air hits her. He points, the love marks evident against her skin, "see?"

She snatches the covers, pulling them back up, "that's cheating!" He laughs and she wriggles against him, "we can't all have your mark defying skin."

Steve grins, pulling her against him, "I don't want to leave this bed today." He says softly, "I don't want to face what the village is going to be saying."

"Anyone worth their salt will know she's full of it." Peggy states, reaching her hand out and trailing her nails on the sensitive skin underneath his belly button, "and what they say doesn't matter, does it?" His eyes close at her contact and she smiles, kissing at his neck, "the only thing that matters is you and me."

"This is not fair—" his deep voice throttles out, his own fingers trailing lower as she kisses him more fiercely, endeavoring to leave a lasting mark.

"Who said anything about fair," she manages out with a smirk, her own breath hitching as he pulls her under the covers.

—-