*A/N - this is one of the stories I'd published on Ao3 but never managed to post here. So I'm trying to go back and make sure I'm up to date here. Thanks to all who have commented/favorited/messaged about me still posting here. I've really appreciated it.
—-
Peggy has been slicing and dicing for longer than she can keep track. The monster keeps raging, now more angry than ever that she's closed the portal and stopped its egress into her world.
Blue eyes looking at her sadly flash in her vision as she ducks another tentacle.
Her world. She left him.
But tears won't help her now so she forces herself to keep fighting. That's what she's always done. Kept fighting.
—-
A tug from something invisible sends her off balance, and a tentacle almost crashes into her. She's about to scramble backwards when that same tug happens again and then she's tumbling through the ground that's now evaporated. Cold winds and blinding blue blights make her gasp and squeeze her eyes shut. The feeling of falling turns into the bone crush of landing.
Her groans are loud as she tries to shiver herself up and ready to fight perhaps whatever pulled her here.
But all she sees is an empty castle.
The castle she was pulled from.
Her heart leaps in her chest and she stands, looking around only to feel like something is off.
She steps back, trying to understand what her gut is trying to alert her brain.
"It's different." She whispers out. And she's right. It looks older, more crumbled. The room she's in no longer looks like the sanctuary of a mad man, but a relic of the past.
Her feet lead her out and away and as far from there as possible.
—
It's at the first road sign that she knows something is wrong.
Nothing is familiar and everything looks like it's from an alien world that's taken over her own.
As she walks along the road, she must start to near some sort of civilization as more automobiles pass by.
Automobiles that seem out of a science fiction novel.
It only takes a few minutes for her to understand that this is no longer a country at war. No one in uniform. No camps or military vehicles.
People start to stare.
People dressed in clothes she doesn't recognize and with hairstyles that seem foreign.
But the people are at peace and only stare at her with an amused curiosity.
Perhaps being covered in blood and guts and holding her giant shield wasn't exactly subtle.
She finally enters a small town and searches for some sort of local authority. Their language is German although it seems that some of what she says is not understood. But thankfully the words for 'help' and 'police' are the same.
When she reaches the station, they stare at her like she is an alien and like what she's saying is completely foreign to them.
After talking in circles, she decides she really only has one option. If the world isn't at war then maybe she needs to be honest.
"Is the SSR still around?"
The man blinks at her and his thick accent repeats, "SSR?" He frowns, "I do not know what this is."
"Howard Stark?" She asks, hoping against all hope the man is still world renowned. "Stark Industries?"
The man's eyes alight, "yes, yes, Stark Industries. Factory in Munich."
She rolls her eyes, bloody traitor. "Can I get a cab from here?"
"You have payment? Long drive."
No, I left my purse in my other bloody knickers! She curses inwardly.
"Could I make a phone call?" She asks, "do you have a directory?"
His brow furrows, "you mean google?"
"What is… google?"
Now he looks very confused and she feels her patience wearing thin. She knows she smells and she can't remember the last time she slept or ate or drank something. "Can I get the number for that Stark industries factory? In fact, could I use your telephone to ring them?"
He nods and starts typing on something that looks, again, out of a science fiction novel.
He hands her a phone, while different in style, the form is still recognizable, and she hears it ringing. The question of 'where is she' in space and time if that portal could open up to a monster makes her want to shudder, but she doesn't show anything outwardly.
"Stark Industries, how may I direct your call?"
"Hello, I'd like the number for Howard Stark, please."
A brief pause and then a confused voice, "I'm sorry, could you repeat your question?"
And that makes her hesitate, if they don't recognize that name… "could you give me the name of your ceo?"
Again the voice is obviously unsure, "of the entire company?"
She tries very valiantly to keep the aggravation out of her voice. They're not at fault for her being dumped here. "Yes."
"Tony Stark, of course."
She rolls her eyes, of course. "And can I have his number?"
"You want Tony Stark's number?"
This time the aggravation is there, "yes."
There's a snort of amusement that the woman obviously tries to muffle before speaking to her in a professional tone. "I'm sorry, I don't have his direct line. Could I connect you to his New York offices?"
Well, it's something, "sure."
The policeman is watching her with an intrigued eye as the phone call starts to ring again.
"Stark Industries, how can I direct your call?"
"Hello, I'm assuming this is a strange request, but is there any way I can be connected to Tony Stark? I need to speak to him about…" she has no idea what to say, so she tells the truth, "about Howard Stark."
"You wanna talk to Tony Stark about his dead father."
It's not even a question. It's an amused straight-to-the-ugly-point-New-Yorker-statement. Meant to intimidate and make you realize how stupid you are.
Which is exactly what happens.
Howard Stark is dead. Who else is no longer among the living? She can't think about that now.
"Uh…"
"Is there something else I can help you with?"
"Could you please inform Tony Stark that Peggy Carter is in Germany and trying to reach him? I knew his father."
"Everyone knew who Howard Stark was—"
"I knew him personally." She grits out, "please, you don't have to connect me, you don't have to give me his number, but could that message please get to him? If he ignores it—" she sighs, "so be it."
And the woman on the other end must hear something in her voice because there's a long sigh and then a curt, "I'll pass it along."
And then a dial tone.
—-
The police let her stay in a cell, door open, thankfully. There's a shower and a prisoner jumpsuit. But it doesn't smell like dead monster so she's fine with it. They even give her a meal which she downs quickly.
"Where are you from?" The man asks that evening as she's lying in the small cell staring at the ceiling.
"England."
He grins, "yes, but how did you get here? And why do you seem…" he eyes her, "out of place?"
That's as good of a way to put it as any.
"I'm not sure I can explain accurately. Just know I'm sorry for being an inconvenience."
His expression softens, "many make mistakes, or get lost. I am happy to help, if I can."
And the gentle kindness of his words make her throat scratch. "Thank you." She whispers, "really."
—-
"Miss—" she's up and holding the uniform of someone.
The stunned eyes of the guard she is now holding hostage is looking at her in fear.
Her strong grip relaxes, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you startled me." She steps back.
He straightens his vest, now eyeing her a bit more warily. "You have received a call."
"A call?"
"Yes. I tried to make him wait to talk to you but he wouldn't." The man seems in disbelief, "he asked questions and then he hung up."
"Who did?"
"Tony Stark." The man says the name like he can't believe it.
"Tony Stark called here? And he didn't want to talk to me?"
"He ask questions. Then he—" he makes the motion of someone returning a phone to the receiver— "hang up."
"What questions?"
"He ask me to describe you, and I did. Then he ask where we were, and then he hang up." He repeats the motion as if to make sure she believes that Tony Stark is the one who disconnected the call.
She sits back down on the bed, "did he say anything else?"
"For you to stay."
"Stay?"
"Stay put."
She leans back into her pillow. "Alright."
It's not like she has much of an option either way unless she wants to hitchhike across Europe.
—-
"It's eerie, I'll give you that."
She wakes and sits up, looking at the man standing at the door of her cell.
She'd spent yesterday just puttering around the village, a (what the man had called a) Walkie Talkie on her hip. They'd found her something that wasn't a prisoner's jumpsuit and given her more food. She was eternally grateful.
Then when nothing had happened, she'd decided more sleep was in order.
Now here she sits, looking at a man that can be no one else but the descendant of Howard Stark. Outrageous facial hair to boot.
She stands, "I'm Peggy Carter."
"Peggy Carter is alive and kicking in DC, or is it Tuesday? She might be in London. And she's in her 90's. So maybe try that again."
She frowns, "if you didn't believe me, why did you come from New York?"
"Correction, I was in Italy, test driving some cars. So, don't think I went out of my way. I just have never had anyone begging my staff to tell them my god-aunt is begging to talk to me from a prison in Germany. Thought it might be worth the laughs."
Her throat is tight, "god-aunt?"
The man rolls his eyes, leaning what looks like a very expensive suit against the cell bars, "I'm confused here, what's your game. Money?"
"I don't want money." She snaps, remembering Howard's proficiency for always bringing that up, "I woke up in the very castle I disappeared from. The last people who saw me were your father and—" she swallows, "a few others. So I am trying to understand what happened to me."
"Lady, you're talking crazy. The only reason I'm even entertaining this is because you do look exactly like her—" he frowns, "except, I don't remember her being this tall or built."
She sighs, "that's the serum, did you only see pictures of me before?"
He tilts his head, "serum?"
"Yes, the super soldier serum…" she gets worried, "did your father never tell you about it?"
Tony's eyes narrow at her, "are you saying you have the serum right now?"
"Yes." She looks about and can't find anything to prove it. Then she reaches for the bag under the bed. She wrinkles her nose, it still smells, but she pushes it aside and grabs the shield. Hoisting it up, "your father made this for me. And I know he was meticulous about records. You could probably find it's design—"
The shield is being snatched out of her hands faster than she can believe possible. He's staring at it like it's a bomb. Then he's weighing it in his hands and his eyes are glazed like he's trying to do difficult calculations.
"What is this made of?" He asks. But his tone says he already knows.
"Vibranium." She answers, "the last of his supply."
"Impossible." He states, "where did you get this?"
"I just said—"
"Where—" he snaps, pointing a finger at her, "the hell did you get this?" Then he gestures to the front, "and why did you paint over it?"
She stands, looming over him, "I'll not have you believing me to be a liar. I don't know how, but I was fighting a monster with your father and the commandos and suddenly I'm sucked into a portal made from the blue cube and spewed out here. The lady on the telephone said your father was dead. That's why I contacted you. This is not some sham or game. I'm lost and—" she grits out the next words, "I need help."
He raises an eyebrow, "what's the blue cube?"
"Whatever power source Schmidt was using to build and power his weapons. But he also used it to open a portal."
"Are you trying to say you were sucked from 1945 into the future?"
It's what she's been studiously trying to avoid knowing. The thought too frightful. But now it stares her in the face, "what year is it?"
"2011."
She needs to sit down.
But she must sit down too heavily because the small coil supported frame bends at her weight.
She looks up to surprised eyes and he seems to calculate something before muttering to himself and clicking on his phone.
Then he looks at her, "if you allow me to run DNA analysis on you when we get to New York then yes, I'll help. Deal?"
Peggy blinks, "what's DNA Analysis?"
His mouth opens slowly and he just huffs, "it's a test of your DNA, the stuff in your cells. Means I can prove you are who you say you are."
And everything he said before hits her. "You said I'm alive. Here." She gulps, "already."
"You are."
"But you believe me?"
"I don't know what I believe. A lot of that went out the window when a Norse god dropped out of the sky and into New Mexico a few months ago. So…" he shrugs, "I'm willing to listen."
"A Norse god?"
"It's a long story. I'll tell you on the jet. Come on."
And just like that she's being whisked away. But she thanks the man who helped her profusely, intending somehow in the future to pay him back for his kindness.
—-
The flight is her vividly recounting her life. He asks her to start at the beginning and so she does.
When she gets to the part with Steve Rogers being shot right before receiving the serum, Tony's eyes go wide. He doesn't interrupt her though and she finishes with her decision to get into the pod and take the serum.
"So…" he starts after she finishes saying that she came out stronger and taller, "did… your Steve Rogers die?"
"What? No. He… he healed and he was one of my commandos."
"What? How, if he didn't get the serum?"
"Your father built him a machine. A big metal suit to fight in."
Tony grins, "oh really, a big metal suit, huh?"
"Yes." But the way he said 'your' makes her lean in, "what do you mean my Steve Rogers?"
"Well, we have a Peggy Carter don't we?"
"You…" it can't be. But oh— "have a Steve Rogers?"
"Yeah—" then Tony wrinkles his nose, "no." A pause. "We did."
Grief is strange and muted. He wasn't hers anyways. "When did he die?"
"1945."
That is a surprise, "he… didn't make it out of the war?"
"No." But there's more he's not saying.
"What is it?"
"He's the one who received the serum here."
Her eyes widen, "what!"
He nods, "the gunshots that you describe killing Erskine, Phillips, and hitting Steve only killed Erskine in our—" he frowns, "I dunno, parallel universe? And that was after Steve Rogers had already emerged from the pod. You weren't in the room."
"I wasn't? Why not?"
He shrugs, "reports have you up in the viewing port."
"Wait if he received the serum…" she trails off and he sighs.
"Our story goes a little differently…"
—
One blood draw and a scan from whatever voice lives in the ceiling, and she's confirmed to be who she says.
And her head is reeling.
New York is a totally different landscape painted over a familiar one.
Everything she learns makes belief a bit more difficult, but she forces herself to pay attention.
And once she's properly up to date with how to use the google, she does.
Steve Rogers
She fills out Tony's story with all the details she can find. Biographies and historical accounts and even the mission folders that Tony hands her one day.
She sees her own handwriting in those, although mention of her is rather sparse in anything public and official.
"Who's this?"
She looks up, surprised she didn't hear the arrival of the narrowed eyed redhead in the doorway to the conference room.
This is Peggy Carter, from a separate universe. Or that is what Mr. Stark and I have theorized.
The red head raises her eyebrows, "excuse me?"
"Hello." Peggy stands and the woman's eyes trail up with her height.
"You're sure not our Agent Carter."
Peggy doesn't let the grin grow too big, "it's Captain Carter actually."
"She was our version of Captain America." Tony says, sauntering into the room, the promised coffees in his grasp. "But she had a thing for Steve Rogers in that universe too. Guy must have been something."
Peggy sighs, "I did not have a thing for him." She glares, "he and I were colleagues. Teammates."
"I don't see you looking up any of the other howling commandos."
He's got her there and he knows it.
"Wait," the woman says turning to Tony, "you're telling me you have an 84 here and you haven't told Shield or anyone?"
Tony grins, "I'm telling you ain't I? I'm sure you will tell your little birdy who will tell both of your boss."
The woman rolls her eyes and turns to look at Peggy square on, "I'm Natasha Romanoff. I work for Shield, an organization that in this universe you helped form. Although I'm getting an idea that isn't the case wherever you came from."
"Indeed it is not." Then she tilts her head, "you're all taking this remarkably well."
Natasha is typing on some device, "unfortunately I've seen weirder. And having a good guy join our universe is better than an enemy."
That's true. Peggy can understand that. "Well, I don't know if it's possible to go back to my own time and universe," she lets the statement dangle, but neither react, so she presses on, "but if not, then I'm happy to help however I can."
The woman nods and turns to Tony, "the Tesseract is acting up. Selvig doesn't know what to make of it. He's asking for your dad's notes."
"I thought I didn't fit in with the—"
"He's not asking for you." The woman quips with a pretty smile, "he's asking for notes. Yes, or no?"
"No, and if the Tesseract is acting up—" Tony points at her, "—could that be what brought her here?" He turns to Peggy, "pretty sure that blue cube you're talking about is the Tesseract. Our Schmidt wanted the same thing."
"We don't know." Natasha answers, "it keeps spiking in power levels and throwing off weird energy. So just…" the woman rolls her eyes, "keep your eyes up. Got it? We may call you in."
"I'm not working pro bono."
The woman walks away without answering and they're left alone.
"So." Tony starts, looking at all the data she's collected on the table, "what is it you're trying to figure out?"
Honesty has gotten her so far. "I'm trying to see, perhaps it's selfish but… I wanted to know if we shared the same connection here as we did in my world. Or perhaps it was different since he was the leader of the charge and I was just an agent."
Tony leans forward and snaps, "just an agent?" He laughs, "ma'am, you were one of the scariest sons of bitches out there!" He waves away Steve's file and starts typing her own name, "maybe read some of these first. But—" his fingers hesitate, "it's kind of a sad listen."
"Listen?"
He grimaces and types something. "Only people who heard this were James Morita, Colonel Phillips, and my father. They classified it and never released it."
"And it is?"
He pulls something up and presses play.
—
You know I still don't know how to dance—
She wakes. The words reverberating in her head.
Listening to the tape where she had comforted him, promised him a dance even, knowing it was never to be. And how he'd dove head first into the cold rigid waters to save the world.
How things were so different and still very much the same.
Someone, she thinks Clint, mentioned the USO propaganda films and Peggy asks what that is only for Tony to slowly turn to her with wide eyes and then clap his hands together, "movie night!"
She's practically hauled to the common room where she is initially confused and then instantly engaged as a man she knows is Steve but can't believe is Steve is on screen. They're ridiculous little prop films, meant to sell bonds and entice men to enlist, but she watches all of them enraptured. He's not a terrible actor even if he seems a little rueful in every performance.
"What about the film reels from his actual war days?" Natasha asks with a grin, "I think there's a particular one where hems holding a compass she might find interesting."
"Compass?" She asks. Her Steve hadn't had a compass. Although his machine had had navigational instruments so he hadn't needed one.
"Oh—" Tony nods, "right." Then he stands and looks at her, "you know… this is strange."
"Why?"
"My dad was…" he shrugs, "part of Steve's creation right? And then they lose Steve in the arctic and he can't let it go. So I grew up hearing about Captain America non stop. And I was pretty tired of it. 'Steve this. Steve that.' Kind of makes a kid feel second place."
"Oh…" she's about to apologize, but he cuts her off. "No. No. This is good. It's what Pepper calls, 'getting me out of my self absorbed comfort zone'. And—" he grins ruefully, "at least now I know my dad wasn't exaggerating. This guy really was all that and a bag of chips."
She frowns, "what?"
Clint snorts. And Tony doesn't respond, just goes to grab the reels.
The video of her face in his compass is like a punch to her solar plexus. Wind knocked out of her for a solid minute.
It's quiet after it and then Natasha points to the TV, "okay, now watch the one of him and Barnes making fun of the reporter's question."
Peggy turns, "what?"
Clint snorts again, "you just want to watch Sergeant Barnes smiling."
Natasha grins wickedly, "of course I do. That man was incredibly good looking." Peggy barks out a laugh,
"He thought so too."
They look at her, "oh yeah?" Tony asks, then his expression grows sad, "you said he made it off the train in your universe?"
Natasha's eyes are wide and she nods. "Yes, we lost Steve that mission instead, or so we thought. But Barnes was alright. I assume he made it out of the war."
The reel begins to play. Steve and James in uniform standing next to each other and then something is said because Barnes says something back and laughs, all while Steve looks on and smiles too.
And she keeps a smile on her face but her stomach twists into sad little knots.
—-
Two weeks later
"So, I'm standing there, shouting 'air support, I need air support!' And the men are looking at me like I'm insane. But then I hear 'Rogers, inbound.' And I ask, 'Steve?' And Barnes looks bugged out as he shouts 'Rogers?' And then he lands, taking out tanks and saving us as we all watch on in awe. That was the first time they saw us in action and it was magnificent."
Natasha is listening with a smile and Clint is still eating but avidly paying attention.
"So Tony, does that mean Iron Man was really your dad's thing first?"
The snicker from Clint makes Tony flip him off. "Different universes, doesn't count."
She's officially on Shield's radar, but in a way where they're being helpful and not sticking her in a lab. When a scientist had asked to draw her blood, she'd adamantly refused and thankfully the man named Coulson backed up her decision.
Tony had requested she live in the tower he's building and she had obliged. Natasha and her have formed a good friendship and Clint is an easy tag along.
The way that everyone in Shield behaves is like they're all waiting for a bomb to go off (mainly the Tesseract) but they don't know when or where or how. So she joins the ranks, and decides to live fully as she can, hoping one day to figure out the mystery of her world jump.
"So," Clint is smirking, "what was it about him that you liked? I mean, unlike ours wasn't he like a scrawny runt?"
Peggy picks up a biscuit and snaps her wrist, throwing it with decent force. It zaps against his cheek and he grimaces, "ow! That hurt!"
"Good. It was intended too. And while he may have been short in stature, he was every bit the man you all know him to be. His heart and love for people was never in question, and truthfully he wanted to fight for what was right. How could I not love such a thing?"
Tony leans back in his chair, "you loved him, huh?"
She nods. "I wouldn't have admitted it before or really at all. But now, there's no reason to hide the fact. He doesn't exist here and I can't get back there. So yes. I loved him."
"What about him?" Natasha asks.
"Other than the fact that he was adorable?" She says with her trademark smirk. "That soft blonde hair and blue eyes were definitely a pull." She laughs at their wrinkled noses but continues, "truthfully… I loved that I could be just me. Never had to perform or be Captain Carter the perfect soldier, or Agent Carter, the perfect spy. Or just Peggy, society's definition of a the perfect woman. I could just be me. And he respected each one the same. He was so gentle in his manner. And he was full of ridiculous humor.."
And Clint takes a bite out of the biscuit that she threw at him, "well hey, 2012 ain't all bad. Maybe you'll have the chance to find someone new." Natasha rolls her eyes and flicks the back of his head.
She laughs softly and takes a sip of her drink, "I doubt it."
—
And maybe the universe doesn't like to be doubted.
Captain Carter, Tony Stark is requesting that you wake the hell up and call him immediately.
The language that JARVIS is allowing means it actually is serious, so she sits up and looks at the clock. Her groggy mind calculates the time difference. It's 10pm in New York, and 3am where she is in England. She'd decided she wanted to see her home country for a bit.
Her yawn is wide as she grabs the little phone that had chirped through Tony's message and dials his number back. A video pops up and Tony is pacing, a different phone to his ear.
He gesticulates for her too— well, she's actually not sure as it's just a wild flinging about of his hand to encapsulate how insane something or perhaps someone on the phone is. She's just guessing at this point. But she waits patiently,
"Was it a Stark Ship?" An answer she can't hear, "damn!"
More bits of a conversation that's hard to make sense of until he hangs up and jabs his phone in her direction. "Oh, ho, ho, ho the Tesseract is really screwing with us now. What are the odds? What the hell is this timing? 70 years and ZIP. Not a peep, and then you show up and in less than a 2 months someone just accidentally finds it? Holy hell, what the hell!"
"You're not making sense."
"They found it, Pegs. The ship."
"What ship?"
"His ship! Schmidt's ship! In the Arctic!"
She tilts her head, "Schmidt?"
And he gets serious, "the ship Steve Rogers was on. The one he sank."
Her voice is a rasp, heart beating in her chest, and she stands, "what?"
"They found it."
"And?"
"They found his body too." He pauses, "well, they found the block of ice they think his body is in."
Her knees wobble and she reaches out to the wall to steady herself.
And he's running a hand through his hair, "what the hell."
"What are they going to do?"
Tony nods, "they're going to bring him home. They're pulling the ship out of the ice as we speak."
"Will anyone be allowed to see him?"
He studies her but then shrugs, "I don't know what condition his body will be in. They just said they could see the shield and the uniform. It might not be pretty." She stays quiet, and she knows he knows what she's asking. "But I suppose if someone wanted to see him—"
"I'd like to see him." She states quickly, "please."
He holds up his hands in surrender, "I'll see what I can do."
Her eyes close, "thank you."
—
She's on a flight the very next day.
It takes 5 days.
5 torturously long days.
The ship is left up north. Tony sends a team to inspect it with Shield's permission. But the ice block where Steve's body is contained is sent to Shield's facility in New York in a climate controlled shipping crate.
The minute Natasha and Clint hear the news they stop by the tower. But she just repeats the same phrase. She can't believe it either. She can't believe it either.
When the ice is placed in Shield's lab, she drives over with Tony and refuses to leave the viewing room.
When Coulson assures her that he won't let anyone mistreat Steve's body, she believes him. But she still can't find it in her to leave.
It takes another 8 days of controlled defrosting to get to the point where he's mostly free.
They finally allow her in the room.
And when she gets her first glimpse, she gasps. His hair and face are the same. Even if a bit wider.
No one stops her from getting up close. She can hear them whispering about how strangely well preserved he is. As if frozen in time.
But she knows. The serum. The serum kept his body like this. Perhaps if they bury him traditionally he will remain perfect for a long time. Until the serum wears out. If it would ever.
The thought terrifies her more than she can bear.
—
Once his body is mostly free from the ice, they start doing their science-y things. She wants to protest but Coulson is watching everything like a hawk and snaps at anyone who even jostles the body laying there helpless. She doesn't know what has caused Coulson to be so protective of Steve but she is ever so grateful.
"Hey—" she hears one of the scientists shout, on the second day, "this guy is still alive!"
She's up and through the door into the room before Tony can even look up from his phone.
"What?" She asks. "What did you say?"
"Look!" The young man says, hands shaking. He waves some sort of scientific tool over Steve's heart and a blip on the monitor chirps.
"Could be a fluke." Someone else says.
"Every time?" The man asks, "watch." Again and again he passes the machine over Steve's chest, still shrouded in the uniform, and it beeps, showing something on the monitor, although Peggy isn't sure what.
"Oh my gosh." The woman shouts, "Call Fury!"
Then they start shoving people out of the room and she's too much in shock to argue.
She and Tony watch from the window as they start to be more careful, warming him up with blankets and machines and now hooking him up to medical monitors and even an IV once his skin is pliable enough.
"Holy shit." Tony repeats over and over, "holy shit."
And Peggy has to agree with that sentiment.
—
Steve wakes up calmly with no fanfare. She and Tony are in a room filled with screens. She hates that it makes him seem like a zoo animal but she knows she technically has no right to be here so she stays quiet.
When Tony had informed her of Fury's plan to test him, she understood, even if it aggravated her. They wanted to see if Steve was still mentally there. Perhaps the serum had protected his body, but had it protected his mind?
But Steve sits up, listening to the radio playing a game they know by the history books that he was at. He catches on immediately, his eyes observing the woman and then the room with suspicion. Then he's blasting out the fake wall and she almost feels a sense of grim satisfaction as the woman designed to look like her calls the emergency code into order.
She shouldn't be surprised at the athletic ability that Steve displays, as she has the same, but he wows her anyways, blasting through guards and running faster than they can keep up.
But then the test turns south as she sees the surprised and slightly afraid expression he makes in Time Square.
Fury manages to talk him down and Tony looks very pointedly at her when they hear Steve say in a tired voice of resignation, "yeah, I just… I had a date."
—
They bring him back to Shield. Tony and her follow silently and out of sight. He's given food, and clothing that isn't from the 1940's, and a brief update on what's happened.
He's quiet and stiff the whole time. He listens, and nods, and listens some more, but he doesn't say anything unless asked a direct question.
"We have a facility here—" Fury is saying, "you can live—"
"No—" the first word he says is quick and then he back peddles, slowing down, "no, I mean, no thank you. I'd…" the lines around his eyes tell her the truth, he's having a hard time with all of this, harder than she had, "I'd like to have my own place."
"It's not recommended—"
And she leans back in the viewing room as does Fury in the actual room, as Steve stands, the motion so smooth and imposing it's almost frightful. His hands are laid flat on the table, and his eyes are pinched closed, "are you going to tell me or imply that I have to live here? Am I going to be forced to reside under Shield's protection?" The way he says protection sounds like restriction. When Fury doesn't immediately respond, Steve shakes his head. "I wouldn't be far. Just Brooklyn."
"Listen," Fury responds, sounding a bit frustrated, "we don't have a house for you in Brooklyn. It will take time to set one up or rent one."
"I don't need you to do that for me."
"Captain Rogers," Fury says with at least a decent amount of respect, "no offense, but the world isn't like you remember. There's credit checks and renter's insurance and it costs at least 2 to 3 thousand a month to rent anything halfway decent. If I let you go out there on your own you'll end up homeless—"
"I've done that before." Steve says in a tight voice, although she can tell that what Fury is saying, all those things he doesn't understand, are getting to him, "I'll be fine."
"We're not going to just let you out on the streets—" Fury is saying until another voice cuts in.
"Should I offer the tower?" She startles looking over, having forgotten Tony was beside her.
"What?"
"It's in Manhattan though. He might not like that. But you're there. That's a big draw."
Fury's in there trying to talk him down and she can see Steve's stubborn will building up a defense, so she turns to Tony and nods, "yes, please."
He stands, "you wanna show your face? Might help."
"Only if he refuses you as well."
Tony considers this and nods.
"Maybe you need a bit more time to adjust—" Fury is saying and Tony rolls his eyes.
"That's my cue."
He walks out the door and she hears him argue with the guard outside of the other door briefly before she hears a beep and the door she can see through the viewing window opens.
Both Steve and Fury turn to stare and she can smell Fury's exasperation from here.
"Hey, Rogers. Tony Stark. You knew my dad."
"Stark?" Steve asks, "knew?"
Tony nods, "sadly pops passed in the 90's but he talked a lot about you. And what ol' one-eyed sourpuss here doesn't understand is that being under a government's lock and key wasn't your thing. So I'm here to offer a hand."
"Stark—"
"I'm talking, cyclops." He smirks, "anyways. I've got a tower in Manhattan. It's big, plenty of space, probably wouldn't see much of another. Hell you can treat it like a hotel. But you're free to live there until you get your feet under you and you find your own place in Brooklyn. No strings attached. How's that sound?"
"Like it's too good to be true."
Tony nods, "you see, I can understand why you think that being a depression baby and all. But I've got a few good reasons for offering. And I promise none are to keep you under control." He gives a pointed glare at Fury who throws up his hands and stalks to the door.
"I don't care where you live, Rogers. Just don't be too far if we need to call you."
Then Fury is gone and Steve tilts his head, "call me?"
Tony rests his hip against the table, "you'll have to forgive the old man. He's a bit twitchy at the moment. That cube you fought so hard to keep out of Schmidt's hands is now acting up and making strange things happen. So he's on edge. Are you willing to help if things go south?"
And even though he looks tired Steve is nodding, "yeah, yeah of course."
"Good then we've got nothing to worry about. Right now at least. So, you taking me up on my offer?"
"They told me your father looked for me."
"He did. Every year until the day he died. And then I took over. Although by proxy. I wasn't going to spend my summers freezing my ass off. But yeah, Stark Industries never stopped searching for your ship. Unlucky enough we weren't the ones who found it, but hey, here you are all the same."
"Okay." Steve responds quietly, "thanks."
Tony grins, "no problem, and I got someone who wants to meet you."
Peggy curses him internally.
"They said it's 2012."
"Indeed it is."
"Who would want to meet me?" Steve asks, as they exit the room. But thankfully her hearing is strong enough, "no one even knows me."
Tony laughs, "you're a super hero. Everyone knows you-"
"What?" Steve seems shocked, "how?"
"You sort of saved the world, buddy. Word gets around."
"But all my missions were classified."
"Yeah, sure. But every Howling Commando and every soldier on that mountain knew what you did. Maybe the details were classified but the knowledge of your sacrifice was known."
"The commandos." She hears Steve ask, "are they…?"
"Gabe Jones passed just three years ago. He was the last one. Sorry."
"Right." Steve's voice is tight, "of course."
"Now." She hears Tony stop in front of the door she's behind, "she's not exactly how you remember her. Hell, she's not even from this universe, but she knows you and you knew her. Or… well our version of her."
"I'm sorry, you lost me, what?"
The door opens and Peggy stands. Her eyes catch on him in person for the first time since he woke up.
His eyes find her face and his expression turns to one of shock.
"Hello, Steve." She says, feeling like a hesitant school girl.
He steps forward and then stops, studying her before tilting his head, "you're different."
Her lips pull up in half a smile, "like Tony said, I'm not from here. Your Peggy Carter is alive and on this earth."
"She wasn't mine". Steve corrects quickly, "we never—"
"Got to dance." She answers, "I know. Neither did I with my Steve."
His brow furrows, "your Steve?"
She reaches out a hand and gestures for him to shake it.
He clasps it slowly, unsure, until she starts squeezing. His eyes get wider as she grips harder. Until he breathes out an "ow" that's accompanied by a smile. He starts gripping back until she winces and laughs.
"You're like me?" He asks.
"Indeed. In my universe, you were unable to receive the serum, so I did."
"Wow." He responds, "that's amazing." She had expected him to ask why he couldn't receive the serum but he doesn't even seem to care or question it, "what were you called?"
"Captain Carter."
He scoffs, "so you were allowed to keep your last name? That's not fair."
She smirks, "I didn't do time as a USO showgirl. That's probably why."
He balks but he's amused, "what! They didn't make you do the USO?"
She shrugs, "Phillips was gone, and the new guy had me on the sidelines for a bit but then you—" she hesitates, "well, the you in my universe reminded me that nothing could stop me and he was right. So I decided to take matters into my own hands."
His gaze softens, "you were the one who reminded me that I was meant for more than just being a propaganda stunt."
Her grip on his hand loosens but she doesn't let go. "Well then I'm glad in our respective times we had each other."
He nods, "yeah, me too."
"Alright." Tony cuts in, "plenty more time for cutesy catch up later. Let's get home".
Steve looks at her in surprise, "home?"
And Peggy does feel a bit of apprehension, "I live at the tower too. Tony took me in when I appeared out of the portal. So we're both lost in space and time. He's taking in strays I suppose."
"Listen." Tony quips halfway out the door, "said strays will be left behind if they don't get their super rears in gear. Let's go."
And it's hard to argue with that.
—
She waves Tony away and offers to give Steve the grand tour.
He accepts although now that they're alone she feels an awkward tension grow between them.
One she can't stand. She's already been taken from her home, and her Steve. She can't bear to be at odds or awkward with this one.
"Listen." She starts when they reach a floor Tony had said he would adjust to fit Steve's needs, "I know that this is incredibly strange. Not just you being alive after almost 70 years, and waking up in a strange land, but the fact that I'm here, that… even in completely different universes, we obviously meant something to each other."
He's quiet, listening.
"But no matter what everyone else thinks they know, we were friends first. I mean…" she slowly circles around him and he stiffens as if under inspection. "I was very much attracted to you right away. The minute you got that flag and made every other private look like an idiot when they'd been unbelievably rude to you the rest of basic—" his eyes are widening, probably realizing just how similar their experiences were. "I was sold. But I'm happy to be friends. No expectations. No matter what the weight of our individual relationships held in our respective pasts."
His shoulders relax and a soft grin that seems relieved lights up his face. "I always wondered… whether you had liked me before the serum or not."
"If she was like me then the answer is yes."
"That's nice to know."
"I'm sure it is. But still," she says, "we're very much in a strange land and strange times. If Norse gods are falling from the sky and the cube is acting up by dropping people into different universes, there's no reason to be stressed about tomorrow. Those fights will come or they won't. That's not up to us."
He huffs a soft laugh, "sounds good to me."
"Come on," she grins, "I'll show you to your room."
—-
She leaves Steve be for the night, knowing he'll need sleep and time to process. He's aware of how to summon JARVIS and so she doesn't fret he'll want for something.
When she steps out of the elevator onto her floor she can hear the two in her kitchen.
She stalks over quietly and glares at them until they notice her.
Clint's sitting on the counter, an apple halfway to his mouth, and Natasha is on a stool, some sort of sandwich retesting in front of her.
"Help yourselves." She says sarcastically.
"Thanks," Clint responds, "he's here right? Fury was all pissy, so we figured he jumped ship. And when you were gone we figured Tony had offered. So he's here right? Captain America is here?"
"There's a bit of an excited school boy tone in there somewhere."
Clint huffs, "I mean, of course! It's Captain America! The first superhero ever! Don't you understand how cool that is? He literally saved the world!"
"So did she, idiot." Natasha responds, gesturing with her sandwich, "don't mind him. He's just excitable."
"You're one to talk." Clint shoots back, "the first thing you asked me when I got you into Shield was about Agent Carter—"
Peggy rolls her eyes as Natasha glares at Clint so sharply that he falls quiet.
"He is here. He's going to rest. I'm sure you can annoy him tomorrow."
"You two talk about your pasts?"
"We did address it, yes." She sighs, "and thankfully we're on the same page. Day by day. No expectations or presuming anything. We want to actually have time to be friends while we're not in a war zone. The loss of our time and universe is still fresh for both of us."
Both consider this and then Clint is nodding, "sounds fair."
"But," Natasha starts with a smirk, "we need to know. You're seeing Steve Rogers in the flesh as he would have been in your universe had he gotten the serum. Thoughts?"
"Natasha."
"Peggy. You're a woman. Don't pretend you're blind."
"I'm not." She snaps, "but if it was men having this conversation I'd be repulsed."
Natasha shrugs, "true, but you admitting he's hot doesn't take away from his worth or value. I know how much you respect him. When it comes from you it doesn't dehumanize him into a piece of meat. So just admit it."
Clint and Natasha lean in.
She rolls her eyes but grins, "watching him tear through Shield's security like tissue paper was something else."
Natasha grins, "I'll say."
Peggy points the water bottle she'd just grabbed from her fridge and points it at Natasha, "back off."
Clint laughs, "damn, Nat. Don't mess with her. She has dibs."
"I do not have dibs!" Peggy gripes, but she can't help but laugh as they grin at her.
—
The next morning, she does everything in her power to keep herself from taking special care to get ready. Nothing out of the norm. Thankfully she hasn't gotten quite used to the updated style in the short time she's been in this new universe so she's fine with looking a bit outdated.
And she's even more doubly so when Steve walks out of the elevator, wearing clothes that remind her of her own day and age.
"Go shopping?" She calls softly from the dining table.
He looks at her and grins ruefully, "the voice— uh—"
"Jarvis."
"Right, Jarvis, he said it was delivered for me from Tony Stark… so I guess he has my size."
"Everyone has your size." She quips, "you're famous here you know."
Steve huffs and walks over, looking at everything with a curious and in disbelief eye, "famous for being unable to land a plane." He responds with a wry huff, looking at a painting that had caught her eye the first time she saw it as well. A strange depiction of trees growing out of a rock shaped like a hand.
Then his words strike her. "Excuse me?"
He doesn't look over, "you know, I loved art, I wonder if—"
"Steve, I read the files."
He looks back over his shoulder at her, his eyebrow pulled down in confusion, "what?"
"The controls were broken. It was stuck on autopilot."
"Funnily enough I don't actually want to talk about this."
Sharp. Tinge of a barb. "I'm not the one who brought it up." She replies evenly.
"Actually you did."
She pauses. She did mention the famous thing. But not for his reason. But his shoulders are tense. A man who has barely had the time to shake off his own death and the loss of everyone else, and her trying to make it seem like a nice thing wasn't helping.
So she relents. "You're right. I'm sorry."
And instantly his shoulders drop, a hand coming up to his eyes and scrubbing a deep circle before he sighs, "no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have responded like that."
"I actually think you could respond however you like, given the circumstances not only would I allow but I'll sort of understand."
"Sort of?"
"I didn't go into that portal knowing I was sacrificing myself. It was a possibility, my death, but I was going to fight that monster tooth and nail to try to assure that didn't happen. But you—"
"Pretty sure I just said I didn't want to talk about this."
Right. Whoops.
"Sorry," she says honestly, "I'm sorry."
His back is to her again and she studies it. The power in his build is perceptible. It's like the room bends light towards him. He pulls focus. She wonders if that's a symptom only she suffers. Is her soul drawn to Steve Rogers wherever he is?
"I can feel you staring."
She blinks and comes back to the present. His back is still towards her but he seems more at ease.
"I'm sorry. It's habit."
"It's habit to stare at people?"
And she decides to be cheeky, "actually it's a habit for me to stare at Steve Rogers when he isn't paying attention."
That does get him to turn around. "He probably knew."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because if he's like me—" he says as if it's a joke, "then he was hyper aware of any time Peggy Carter was around him."
She feels the grin slide onto her lips as he returns her cheek.
And the room gets hotter. She feels herself start to grow warm under this intense gaze and she stares right back.
Just being friends was going to be harder than she thought.
"Would you—" she clears her throat, trying to retain her focus that is so rarely thrown off, "are you hungry?"
And his eyes don't ever leave her face, but they do dip down to her lips when he responds with a single word, "starved."
An immediate flush from her neck has her looking away. Her Steve was no coward. But he was not this forward or intense. She wonders if it's the emotions being high, or perhaps he was more forward because of the persona he had to wear, or perhaps even the serum.
"What would you like?" She asks calmly, gesturing to the kitchen.
And he really must not notice the effect he's having, as he responds, "anything you have to offer." Like it's not the most enticing words she's heard. Or maybe she's just lost all sanity.
What is about Steve Rogers that makes her throw all decorum and patience to the wind?
But at least he's seeming to do the same. Their aforementioned agreement to be reserved forgotten.
"I believe—" she says slowly as she stands, his eyes following her motion, "there's quite the selection. Stark has a chef on hand at all times due to our varying and busy schedules. Perhaps you have a request?"
She steps towards the Holoboard where Tony has taught her how to order food so that it will be sent up, and he walks closer.
He doesn't crowd her, there's plenty of space between them, maybe even an extra bit, but even still the closeness feels like a charge. Like his body that bends light towards it also emits a radiating heat. It's intoxicating and it takes everything in her power to not turn to him and tell him to knock it off.
"I wouldn't know what to request." His voice responds softly, "could you show me?"
She nods, not trusting herself to speak, and starts swiping at the menu, pointing out the dishes that are available today. A Mediterranean menu mostly. Which she's not sure Steve's ever eaten. She turns to say they can order simpler things only to freeze.
He's leaned closer, eyes on the menu but face perilously close to hers now that she's turned.
His cologne or soap smell hits her like a brick wall. So visceral it almost makes her dizzy. He smells exactly the same. How is that possible? How can he smell exactly like—
His eyes flick to hers, noticing their proximity and yet not moving back. They're his eyes. Of course they are. Every fleck of green in the deep blue, every mix of pale blonde, deep golden, and dirty blonde in his eyelashes, just like his hair. He slowly turns his face to hers, their noses not even an inch apart.
But he doesn't move, or initiate anything. He's patient, seemingly waiting to see what she will do.
And damn it must just be the emotions running high. They cannot be feeling this chemistry so fast… and yet here she is, the way his eyes blink like a Morse code begging her to answer. How can he be a total stranger and yet feel like he's hers already? She should be wary of him. She doesn't know him.
But she does. This is Steve. In every iteration of their universes she would know him. And herself in this universe had loved him. So he had to be like hers. He's Steve.
Kiss him. Her mind orders. Kiss this damn man right now. You missed your last chance. Don't lose it again.
"Steve?" She whispers softly.
His pupils widen at the sound of her voice and that's all the answer she needs to her technically unspoken question.
Slow enough he could pull away but quick enough she doesn't lose her bravery, she dips her head a tiny bit, angling towards his lips. And when he doesn't pull back but moves to meet her, a feral excitement fills her.
Then their lips are meeting. And his are cool and soft and she closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation. His hands seem to hesitate before they gently rest on the sides of her face, then one slides to her neck, supporting it as he pushes closer, crowding her space in a way that her adrenaline shoots up.
She wraps her arms around him, shifting and changing the angle. He adjusts without pause and she has no thoughts left as she feels him walk them, her back suddenly against a wall she didn't even know they were near. He's strong. Imposingly so. But it doesn't feel intimidating. It feels dangerous. In the most adrenaline pulsing way. And she adores it. He's not dangerous to her. He's just dangerous.
After a minute he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. She feels fluttery and young and full of energy like he's shocked her with electricity.
"I thought you said slow." He says hoarsely, a grin on his lips.
"Says the man who has me pressed against a wall."
He looks down and then up, almost seeming surprised, like he hadn't even realized he's moved them. And he's very Steve as embarrassment flits over his expression briefly. His voice is wry, "I can't even think right now."
She smirks, "and when can you?" He gives her an eye roll that she finds adorable but then he seems to shift, making a move to step away but it's unacceptable. She grabs the front of his button up, "where do you think you're going?"
"I—" he takes a deep breath and then raises a hand to her cheek brushing it softly against her skin before removing it. "I feel very wildly off balance. Like my emotions are in control. Not my brain." He shakes his head. "I desperately want to kiss you, be with you, love you… because I loved her." The words are so stark and honest. He loved her. Well, his version of her, and she loved her version of him. "But I don't want to think I'm just… replacing her with you. But… wouldn't I be?" He grimaces, "because if I have you then it means I didn't lose her."
It makes sense. The awkwardness of their situation. How it seems like they lost one set of each other and just happened to pick up spares.
"I understand what you're saying." She answers, still holding the front of his shirt, "but I think that would only matter if we minded." She uses her other hand to gesture to herself. "I don't mind that I'm the replacement, because it was me to begin with. And my choice of having you, serum or not, would never waver. Unfortunately, the choice was stolen from both of us. And I would like to teach the universe a lesson that it can try to take what I love but I will always find a way back to it."
He furrows his brow, "so if you could find a way back to your universe, would you go?"
"Tony's tried." She answers calmly, "before we found you. And other than some spectacular power outages, managed nothing. So there is no going back to my time. In fact, perhaps my time is your time and it's been seventy years—" it's a thought that's crossed her mind. She didn't travel just across universes but forward in time. Meaning most likely… with his health… her Steve would be dead. "So here we both are, I'm stranded on this planet in this universe. You're stranded here, in this time. And I don't feel like a replacement." She says firmly, "I feel lucky to be given a second chance to love the man I loved, albeit in a roundabout and science fiction way. And you would not be a replacement in my mind either. Your Peggy lived and moved on. My Steve, I assume, did the same. Maybe they weren't as happy as they could have been but they had their lives." Her fingers uncurl from his shirt and let him free, so he can still choose. "So now I want to live mine. With you if you'll have me. And if not, then I suppose I will learn to live with that. It's not as if we were ever married. Perhaps after a few dates we will decide it would have been a disaster anyways but—" he's frowning at her and she grins, "I'm pretty sure we would get along swimmingly."
He stares at her for a long moment. She can see his strategist's mind working through all the angles and points she made, deciding if he agrees.
Then he makes the first move, leaning forward and eyeing her lips. "I've never been on a date before." He says quietly, "I'd like to take you on one. But I have no idea what people do for dates in this century."
She smiles, "I think we can figure that one out together."
—
She's pressed against the wall again when she hears the elevators whir. She's about to alert him when he breaks off the kiss and grins, "company."
Her grin is wicked in return, "always in the way."
He steps back and grimaces, looking at her, "I'm—" she turns to one of Tony's reflective surfaces (of which he has many) and groans. She looks thoroughly mused. "—sorry."
His shirt is a little off but not untucked or a mess, and his hair is messy but stylish.
She takes her fingers through her hair and shrugs, "I think they'll figure it out pretty quick anyways."
"I think our swollen lips will give it away." He responds.
She leans closer and sees what he means.
"Well," she strides towards the table, "out of the frying pan."
He frowns, "what?"
She pauses, and then laughs, loudly, "I'm sorry—" she laughs again and the door to the elevator opens, dropping Tony off.
"What's so funny?" He asks, walking with an empty mug hanging from his fingers.
"Remember that saying you taught me like a month ago? I just—" she points to Steve, "it's funny how quickly you acclimate to the silliest things." She gestures to Tony, "the saying goes, 'out of the frying pan and into the fire'. It just basically means in all the way. Or, no going back, you know?"
And Steve's face shifts, maybe it would have been a grimace before. The phrase 'no going back' should be a painful one. But she's here, and she's not going back either.
So he smiles, "got it. Thanks for explaining."
Tony stops a few feet from them. And it's his turn to frown, "were you guys in a fight?"
She laughs and Steve's ears get a tinge of pink before she walks over and pulls him down, placing a good kiss on his lips. Then she turns back to Tony who is gaping, "define fight?"
He splutters, "wh-what, wait wait, I thought you were going to take it slow!"
"We're pushing 100," she smirks, looking at Steve who is smiling at her, "we've taken our time. Now it's no more wasting it."
And Steve's soft but firm "what she said." Makes her heart warm.
Tony just stares for a long minute and then shrugs, "you know, this is a good thing, this saves me the months of pining I was going to make fun of you guys for." Then he heads to the kitchen, "I'm making coffee and I'm ordering food, anyone else hungry?"
And she looks at Steve who is looking at her, and his earlier word comes to mind, so she grins, her eyes sparkling mirth at him, then responds, "starved."
—-
*A/N - I hope you enjoyed!
I will be writing more chapters of this. But fair warning I'm probably going to avoid writing canon MCU events. Like I'm going to mention the plot line of Avengers (2012) but I'm probably not going to rewrite it with Cap Carter there. I'd rather write original missions and then exploring their relationship! I hope that's alright!
Except perhaps a certain winter soldier's story