Chapter Ten
✭
Peggy Carter's backyard was the perfect location for a garden party.
On a sunny July day, the roses and lilacs were in full bloom, filling the air with a soft fragrant voice. Red and white petals decorated the trimmed grass and the trees rustled gently in the breeze, providing much-needed shade. Little chocolates shaped like the number 94 were inserted into an assortment of cupcakes laid out on a buffet table. Soft jazz music played from an antique record player set nearby.
Strung up from the eaves of the backyard porch was a line of balloon letters spelling out HAPPY BIRTHDAY. An arrangement of smaller tables covered in an assortment of checked, plaid, and floral tablecloths, a kind of eclectic mismatch that was pleasing rather than discordant. Furnished with what must be fifty years' worth of acquired china tea sets, with punch, little sandwiches, and slices of cake, it made for a picturesque birthday party.
It made me glad that I had the right instincts to dress up for this, even though Dad insisted there had been no dress code to the invitation. That didn't mean I was going to let him show up in dirty work pants and whatever old jacket and baseball cap he pulled out of his closet.
It was amazing how different he looked with his hair combed (went for a modified man bun, although I offered to braid his hair) and a sports jacket borrowed from Steve. Dad still kept the glove on his left hand, just in case any of Peggy's guests weren't in the know. If they didn't recognize him, then they didn't have to. I myself had chosen a cornflower blue flower dress
When we arrived, about twenty people were in attendance — mostly people I didn't recognize from Peggy's life, and a few I did. Among them was Steve, of course, already sitting at the birthday girl's side — Peggy looked to be in good spirits today, sitting in her wheelchair and observing the party as its venerable hostess.
She smiled in delight when she saw us coming around the side of her little house, opening the little fence gate with a creak. "Oh, you've come! I admit, I was worried. And Mia, don't you look just darling in that dress. Now come and sit, let me have a good look at you, James, my eyes aren't what they used to be."
"It's, er, you can just call me Bucky, ma'am," Dad looked remarkably awkward as he shuffled over, throwing a look at Steve when his friend had the audacity to hide a laugh. "What?"
"Nothing!" Steve insisted, far too innocent. Like Dad, he was also wearing a button-up shirt, but in a more summery light plaid. Something Dad wouldn't be caught dead in, I imagined.
"You're still calling me ma'am," Peggy replied, her white curls bouncing as she chuckled and raised out a wrinkled, delicate hand to turn Dad's face towards her. "Although I suppose now I'm old enough to deserve it, hmm? And you, just like Steve, haven't aged a day since I last saw you."
Sitting down next to him, I studied Dad for a moment and wondered just when that might have been. 1944, middle of the war. There was a slightly blank look in Dad's eyes that said he didn't remember, but he didn't say anything and neither did I. I wasn't sure how much Peggy knew about us, but seeing she didn't look surprised to see me with Dad, she must have known enough. And didn't seem at all concerned she invited a fugitive assassin to her birthday party. But Peggy Carter was also one of the original founders of SHIELD, so she's probably done much scarier things in her lifetime.
Instead of leaving him to flounder, I piped up, "Steve still looks better, though."
"Hey, you!" Dad pinched my nose while the others laughed. "A little too quick to sell out your old man, huh?"
"I dunno, Buck, she might be right," Steve added, raising his eyebrows as he pretended to preen and swipe back his hair. "What is it the kids say these days? On fleek?"
"Oh god no," I realized too late that Steve was not on my side and that I was entirely outnumbered by old people, all of whom thought my cringing reaction was hilarious. I didn't know who told Steve that bit of youth slang (Peter, probably) but it immediately had me wanting to crawl out of my skin.
"That's because you don't have children, Steve," Peggy said, patting Bucky's hand sympathetically and giving him a wink. "As I'm sure as dear Mr. Barnes here has already learned, parenthood just has the gray hairs coming on faster."
"Don't I know it," Dad muttered, and I took that as my cue to go find something to eat and leave these three to talk (and not use me as a convenient teasing target).
It had been a four-hour trip by train to get here and I was starving anyways. One could only resist the smell of cake for so long. While perusing the food options, I took note of the other partygoers, and was surprised to recognize Tony Stark of all people here. He was currently engaged in a lively conversation, telling a funny story to his audience, judging by the sounds of laughter coming from his direction. It hadn't occurred to me that he'd know Peggy, but then again, his father worked with Peggy closely, didn't he? And wherever Tony was, Howie couldn't be far behind.
I spotted the boy sitting alone at an isolated table, further away from the noise. Howie was currently engrossed in a sketch he was working on, more interested in the drawing than his own food. And, sitting next to him, was another boy I recognized but did not expect to be here.
"Jonas?" I barely remembered the name I was supposed to use, coming over to their table. Both looked up in surprise and smiled as I approached. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"Oh, yes!" Jonas — what Vision preferred to be called when he was masquerading as a civilian — nodded happily. He currently appeared as a very strange-looking teenage boy. Against the brightly printed clothing he copied from an Old Navy catalog, "Jonas" had pale skin and even paler hair that gave the impression he was a ghost. "Howard thought it would be an excellent way for me to gain more experience in a social setting. This is much less intimidating than these high schools you attend."
His particularly lanky features and narrow face, coupled with his accent, gave powerful Victorian orphan vibes. It was unsettling, and that was before he did his whole walking-through-walls shtick. He also struggled with the concept of hair and what to do with it, so he kept his white-blond hair quite short, a bit longer on the top to sweep over his forehead.
No one knew exactly the full scope of the Mind Stone's power, but apparently it also gave Vision some mild form of illusion or shape-shifting ability (it was hard to tell which). He might look like he could be knocked over by a stiff breeze, but he was still made of pure vibranium if you tried to punch him.
"Uh-huh," I said, casting Howie a knowing look, who flushed and beamed innocently. "Yeah, I'm sure Howie had absolutely no other reason, none at all."
Like wanting another kid at what was largely going to be a party full of adults. There were a few children, Peggy's great-grandchildren, running around, but they were only around five or six. Not exactly Howie's age group. And only Vision could really conversate on the same intellectual level as the boy genius.
"Signora Carter said there would be no alcohol, for my father's sake," Howie explained, which was probably why Tony had a very big mug of coffee in his hand. "And he likes to socialize. But everyone here just asks me the same questions. I just want to finalize the Iron Vitruvian project. Vis— Jonas is helping me."
"Oh yeah? Where are you two at now?" I asked. As disconcerting as it was to see Vision like this, it was, in fact, an improvement to his previous disguise attempts. Appearing as an adolescent was a recent development; Vision apparently liked to hang out with us teenagers, dipping his toe in human socializing by joining us in cafe and diner hangouts. As to why he preferred our presences as opposed to the actual Avengers team, I had no idea, but no one opposed when he asked to come along.
Unfortunately, even when appearing human, Vision had looked distinctly older than us despite being the youngest of the entire group. He was barely a year old, beating out Howie at thirteen. So being perceived as the adult chaperone/school teacher/youth group leader (often offered the check first, never asked for his ID, what kind of classes he taught) was very awkward for all of us.
That was also around the same time he was exploring familial concepts and kept referring to Howie as his uncle, which… did not help.
"Determining colors!" Vision bounced in his seat, looking thrilled that his opinion was being taken into account. "I suggested red and green, of course."
Howie looked faintly aggrieved. "Which looks great on you, Jonas. But I don't want people thinking I'm just painting my suit to look like Italia's flag. Or a Christmas tree."
The imagery had me fighting a smile, and earning a gesture look from Howie. "See? Even Mia thinks it's funny. I don't want to be laughed at every time I'm trying to save the world. There're other kinks I have to work out anyways, like my lip-reading software. It keeps getting messed up on anyone with a Scottish accent."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," I said; a problem was never a problem when it came to Howie, only another challenge. "Peter might have some good ideas for colors, too. How do you like birthday parties so far, Jonas?"
"Oh, it's intriguing!" Vision beamed, looking around with wide blue eyes. "I thought it was rather silly at first, for humans to inaugurate their day of birth every year. But now I understand, survival of another year should always be celebrated, and age is a marker of increased experience and knowledge. I may not be able to appreciate the wonders of food, but I understand cake and the giving of gifts is integral to the celebration."
"You know, you'll be turning one in a few weeks," I pointed out. Seeing how excited Vision was at this whole idea, why not suggest it? "We could throw you a birthday party, too."
"Really?" Vision blinked, surprised. "I would like that, very much! Just, er, I would prefer not to invite any strangers."
"It'd be your party," I couldn't help but laugh. "You can invite whoever you want."
"Then absolutely! I only want the people I know there," Vision nodded, satisfied. "Except Howard, of course."
Howie did a double-take, gaping at Vision in affront, and even I was speechless for a moment. But Vision just seemed pleased by our reactions and leaned in, whispering, "That was a joke! I'm practicing my humor."
"Bastardo," Howie muttered under his breath, his shoulders slumping in relief. "You need to keep working on it."
"Just remember to use the doors," I said, trying hard not to laugh after the fact. I knew Vision meant no harm with his attempt at a joke, and maybe it was adorable that he was trying so hard. "I don't know if Peggy's heart can take it if she sees you walking through walls."
"Ah, right," If Vision knew how to blush, he probably would be right now. Instead, he just smiled bashfully and shrugged his shoulders. "I keep forgetting. It's just so much easier to phase through matter…"
We continued to chat as I ate some cake and sandwiches. Vision continued to look tempted by food, but we all remembered the last time he tried, and decided it best not to attempt it again while in polite company. He was convinced that if he could create a containment system within his body to hold the food without allowing it to contaminate his hardware, as well as work on developing taste buds, he could embrace the full human experience. How an android would later expel the eaten-but-undigested food was another matter entirely.
It was on my way back for a second helping, did someone call out my name, and I turned to see Peggy waving me over. Steve and Dad were still with her, and now another woman. Blonde with dark eyes, middling height and a deceptive civilian appearance wearing jeans and a floral peplum top. But there wasn't enough casual fashion in the world to hide the fact that it was Agent 13, formerly of SHIELD. I almost stumbled. What was she doing here?
"I have someone I want you to meet," Peggy said, gesturing to Agent 13. "This is my grand-niece, Sharon. She's taken after me in a lot of ways, but like you, I think she's grown beyond her family legacy."
It was hard to summon a smile at that moment. Mostly because I didn't know how to react, didn't know if Sharon was friend or enemy. Mostly I was stunned she was even here at all. That she was Peggy's grand-niece? I didn't even know Peggy Carter had siblings.
I shot a look at Steve, at Bucky. Steve appeared at ease, not the least bit surprised, but Dad was carefully pretending he didn't exist right now. As if Sharon Carter wouldn't have noticed him sitting right there. Surely Peggy must have introduced them, too. I must have just missed it.
"We've met," Sharon said, gazing evenly at me. Not a blink. Not a smile, but she didn't look angry, either.
I could only nod, barely remembering the last time we saw each other. It had been in the crumbling Triskelion, I was barely conscious, still waking from protocol. I remembered seeing her, a skinny analyst, and a STRIKE agent. The man I'd shot. That was the part I remembered, before collapsing. That had been over a year ago.
I couldn't believe she was actually related to Peggy Carter. I wasn't sure if I'd ever heard Sharon's real name, or her last name. Not that I'd make the connection between Sharon Carter and Peggy Carter, the surname wasn't exactly unique.
But still.
Peggy was now in deep conversation with Steve and Tony, so the two of us stepped away. Sharon seemed to expect my surprise, because she finally said, "Don't think too hard about it. Most people don't know, either. Steve didn't until six months ago."
"Really?" I wasn't sure which fact surprised me more. The part where she kept this a secret, or that she and Steve were apparently still on speaking terms after everything that happened. From what I understood, he hadn't been particularly pleased about her deception, or the fact SHIELD had been spying on him. But maybe that was water under the bridge now. Seemed like a weird thing to ask.
"I didn't want any favors," Sharon explained, taking a sip of her punch. "Or expectations. I didn't want people to look at me and see the great Peggy Carter, next leader of SHIELD. Didn't want people to think I got to where I was because of that connection, either. Only on the strength of my own merits. It mattered. Back then, at least."
Back when SHIELD still existed. "What do you do now?"
"I work for the CIA," She replied, with a kind of noncommittal shrug. Sharon flashed a smirk in my direction, "I'd tell you where, but I think you understand the confidentiality involved."
"Yeah, I'm not that curious," I lied, as if I didn't want to know what a CIA agent did. I already knew she was a spy, but the CIA ironically had (slightly) more transparency than SHIELD and many more historic rivalries. That was the kind of history a girl could sink her teeth into.
Still, with that knowledge, her presence here had me nervous. "I heard they're one of the agencies still looking for the Winter Soldier."
"We are," Sharon replied, glancing at me only once before taking another sip of her drink. She took a long look over the party. "As of yet, we haven't found any leads or any sign of his activity. As far as we know, he's gone underground. He may take up mercenary work, or maybe he's just keeping his head down. But he's not the only HYDRA agent we're hunting down. The Winter Soldier was just one of many assets. We're much more interested in catching the guys who were actually in charge."
She paused, letting that sink in. I didn't say anything right away, trying to detect any deception in her words, coddling or patronizing. "Even with Secretary Ross breathing down your neck?"
Sharon let out a faint snort. "The Secretary can suggest who we might prioritize in our efforts, but what we actually do is up to the Director. The fact of the matter is, the Winter Soldier is a ghost. On top of being impossible to find, he's also not been recorded as an active threat. Not like other targets we're tracking down, people who are still trying to bring the return of HYDRA, or replace it with something worse. Those are the threats I'm worried about."
"Like who?" I asked, bewildered. I had assumed most of HYDRA, all the top leaders had been captured or at least identified.
Sharon cut me a wry look. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."
"Ha-ha." I rolled my eyes. "Right, confidential, whatever."
Sensing my annoyance, Sharon added, "It's no one you need to worry about, Mia. Trust me."
I cut her a look, unsure if I should. But by all accounts, this not-conversation we were having about my dad said that Sharon wasn't looking for him. Wasn't going to turn him in. I didn't ask if she recognized the man sitting with Steve and Peggy, didn't want to know if she already knew what he looked like or not. If she was on the same side as Steve, working with him, or what.
"If you say so," I said at last. Could I trust Sharon on a personal level? Maybe. She did allow me to escape the Triskelion when she caught me sneaking out; when she had no reason to trust me then, either.
But I also knew she liked her job, and wanted to do it right. And if that job meant finally hunting down my dad? If she had no choice but to obey her orders?
I couldn't guess what side she'd choose. The best I could hope for was never having to find out.
"Can I ask you something, Mia?" Sharon said, fixing me with those dark eyes of hers. When I shrugged, she continued, "I heard about those… disappearances. Steve told me," She added quickly, as if that was supposed to make me feel better. Why was Steve telling her that? "I just want to make sure that… you know. If you're okay."
"If I'm okay?" I repeated, surprised. "You mean, if I remember something that might be pertinent to your job?"
A look of annoyance flashed across her face. "I'm off the clock, Mia. Not everything I do is because of my job. I'm asking because it sounds like everyone is worried about you. And for good reason. The FBI seems to think you're just a kid acting out. But I've seen you acting out. This isn't the same."
My face heated, remembering that night when she was supposed to babysit me in DC, while Steve was on a mission. That hadn't ended well.
But I could see why she thought it looked similar, and maybe I was glad she knew it was only surface-level. So, I said, "It's not. But I don't know why. It just happens."
"Hm," was all Sharon said.
My anxiety got the better of me. "Does the CIA know? Ross?"
"No," she said, with the kind of firm confidence that told me she was telling the truth. "Don't get me wrong, Ross is very aware of you. But more in a super soldier way than anything else. He suspects you might be building a team."
That took me off guard, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Wait, really? No way."
Even Sharon was smirking, raising her eyebrows at me. "You're saying you're not?"
"No!" I said, and I hoped to god I was convincing, because it was true. Right? "Just because I've got a lot of… interesting friends doesn't mean we're, like, an actual team. We can barely agree on where to hang out most of the time."
"No, not right now," Sharon said, nodding and scraping her heel on a paving stone. "But Ross doesn't think it's outside the realm of possibility. And neither do I."
Her tone was difficult to pin down and I could only frown at her in confusion. So, Sharon subtly pointed at Howie and Vision. "I saw how you were interacting with those two earlier. They look to you for guidance."
"Vision's a part of the actual Avengers," I pointed out.
"Is he?" Sharon said in that same tone again, infuriatingly coy and full of hidden meanings. She smiled faintly. "From what I hear, he's having some growing pains trying to fit in with a bunch of hard-boiled adult superheroes. Just because ULTRON gave him the body of an adult male doesn't mean it's going to fit him right away."
"So, I should just recruit him for this team that definitely doesn't exist," I said flatly. I wondered how the Avengers would think of that idea. I didn't have an inside look at how Vision was adjusting to his life as a superhero android, he was either at the Tower or in the upstate facility with Wanda and Pietro — but if he was really having trouble fitting in, I didn't mind if he preferred to keep with us. "I'm sure Ross just loves that he exists, too."
A powerful android made of a billion-dollars-worth of a rare, impenetrable metal, equipped with revolutionary artificial intelligence and powered by a magic, possibly world-destroying space rock? Yeah. Nothing to worry about.
"He sees this team that definitely doesn't exist as a way to circumvent the Sokovia Accords." Sharon said. "Both Steve and Tony are fighting hard, but it might come down to a compromise. They're trying their best to keep kids out of it. And most of you guys are still minors."
Okay. I could now see how someone as hyper-paranoid as Ross could interpret teenage superheroes as a threat. "And he thinks I'm at the head of this? Why? I'm not the oldest or the strongest. I'm not even the first."
Sharon could only offer an innocent shrug. "I can't say what it is. All I know is that he's got you pegged for it. Maybe he's seeing something the rest of us don't."
"Clearly," I said, wondering if Sharon was treating this so nonchalantly, without an ounce of opposition to the idea, was for a reason. "How do you think these Accords are going to go?"
"Best case scenario?" Sharon offered, but only shook her head. "I'm not sure there is one. We can always dream that Ross or the American government or the UN will use the Avengers wisely and distribute their aid when it's needed and in just the right amount. But we all know that will never happen. There's no perfect solution to this. But there's definitely a wrong one."
That surprised me, but I wasn't sure what to say, either. Was Sharon really opposed to the Sokovia Accords? Maybe it made sense for her, but she was a hard person for me to pin down, ideologically. All I knew was that she was SHIELD through and through, and HYDRA and anything like it were anathema to her.
Thinking again about her focus on Vision, I wondered if he didn't play a bigger part in this conversation. If Vision was an Avenger, he would be a part of whatever team Ross would want to control. But if he wasn't, Ross didn't get his hands on this ultimate weapon.
For that matter, the same could be said for Wanda and Pietro. They too were being trained up with an expectation to eventually join the Avengers, whether or not they ultimately decided that for themselves. Wanda, a powerful witch with unimaginable powers. Pietro, with a super speed unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. Both with the ability to start and stop a lot of problems. I couldn't help but feel defensive, protective. Ross couldn't get his hands on them, any of them.
At last, I said, "Worst case scenario?"
"The Avengers cease to exist," Sharon replied. "Either they're disbanded to prevent giving people like Ross control over them, or they're assimilated into something new. Rebranded, if you will. Which is why this hypothetical team of yours would also be seen as a problem. But that's just what I think. I definitely wouldn't give it any serious thought, if I were you."
"Right," I said, brows furrowing. Before I could say anything else, a relative called out to Sharon, and she smiled in response, leaving me there to my thoughts. I stewed there, cupcake in my hand, entirely forgotten.
Me, building a superhero team? Leading one? Ridiculous.
I wouldn't even know what to name it.
~o~
"What's with the face?" Dad asked.
I blinked, startled from a reverie. as the countryside whipped past the windows outside. The train rumbled around us; the cabin filled with the quiet roar of its speed. The sun was just starting to set, casting everything in fiery glows, the seats still warm. "What face?"
"That face you've had on since we left the party." Dad said, frowning slightly. "Did that Carter lady get to you? The blonde one, I mean."
"No," I said, which I then recanted when I found it to be a lie. "Well, a little. We were just talking about… the Accords. Ross."
"Oh," Dad said, his tone dropping, eyes glancing away. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "What did she say?"
"Nothing inspiring," I said, which was more truthful. I shrugged. "She doesn't have high hopes. Ross wants too much, and eventually he's going to get some of it, one way or another." I paused. "That, and the fact he thinks I'm going to start a secret superhero team specifically to spite him."
"Oh, is that so?" Dad flashed me a bewildered smirk, which was how I felt about the idea. "Well, if you are, I hope I'm invited."
"Yeah, you can be our parent chaperone," I laughed, shaking my head. Just the thought of it had me recoiling with how lame it sounded, but I still appreciated Dad making light of it. "What did you, Peggy, and Steve talk about?"
"Oh, you know," Dad shrugged, scratching his cheek. "Remembering the old days. Or trying to. I still can't recall much. Peg didn't seem to take it personally, at least. I think she's just glad Steve and I aren't just two sad old men anymore. Most of the time, anyways."
"You're not sad," I said, even though it was kind of a lie. Dad always carried a kind of melancholy about him that never seemed to go away, even on his good days.
But still. Dad looked at me suspiciously. "I don't hear you denying that I'm old."
"Well." I looked up at the ceiling, playing innocent. "…You're younger than the telephone."
"Wow." Dad huffed, pressing a hand to his chest as he mocked offense. "Wow. Damned by faint praise, huh?"
"You couldn't think of a more recent invention?"
"Well, it's either that, or you're the oldest Tolkien fan alive," I said, shrugging helplessly and laughing when he ruffled my hair. "You read the original Hobbit back before he retconned half the story for Lord of the Rings."
"Tolkien did what?" Dad blinked in surprise. "Wait, what's a ret-con? Is that why it feels different when I read it again earlier?"
But I just shook my head and stood up, hoping I could end the topic before Dad could get upset that one of his favorite books was more or less rewritten. "I just have to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back."
The bathroom was located at the end of the cabin, and even as I slipped inside, I could feel the train slowing down as it approached the station. I tried to make it quick, then, not wanting to get caught up when everyone rushed to leave or enter the train.
I opened the door, and stepped out into the middle of a city street.
I gasped, the motion of the train floor vanishing and replaced by cold concrete, the air-conditioned interior replaced by a wave of humidity. And hunger.
I was so hungry.
My knees gave out almost immediately, but it wasn't from the sudden shift in environments, the lack of motion beneath my feet. No, I just felt — weak. Horribly weak. My hands shook as I braced my fall, hands pressing into the gritty asphalt. Once more, winded.
It was daytime, overcast instead of sunny. No idea what time of day, only that it wasn't sunset anymore. The air, uncommonly chilly yet horribly oppressive at the same time.
I wasn't on the train like I should have been. Not even the New York train station. But I was in New York. I knew, because I recognized the apartment building directly in front of me.
Dad's.
Something warm dripped down my face, and as I touched my hand to my lips, I already knew what it was. A few drops fell onto my clothes. Looked down, and saw I was still wearing the blue dress I'd gotten, just for Peggy's birthday. Only it was dirty now, wrinkled and stained and torn in a few places. The hems frayed. Unwashed. Like I'd been wearing it for days.
Already, I knew.
It happened again.