"He thinks you don’t want him to come home, Howard!”
“I don’t! It’s never safe here, I'm not a safe person. I've been shot twelve times since he was born, and yes, twice by you for reasons, but... I expect every day... any day could be it, Peg. I actually envy that you're alone.”
She nearly smacked him. “You shoulder more responsibility for the world than anyone I know, millions of lives a day and you can't make room for one little boy?”
Howard circled back around his desk, putting it between them before either of their anger got the better of them. “He's better off steering clear.”
“You really believe you have nothing of value, nothing positive to give your son?” she demanded.
“I'm just trying to make sure the planet still exists by the time he gets to it. If I have to sacrifice our relationship so be it. There are greater sins than being a shitty dad, and I’m going to hell for all of them anyway,” he said. “Any day now.”
-*-
During the memorial Pierce had called this a 'tragedy'. Peggy could think of a hundred words, 'retribution' and 'retaliation' at the top of the list- but she wouldn't dare color Howard and Maria Stark's deaths with a word like 'tragedy'. There was nothing pointless or happenstance about a top assassin making a clean kill, she thought bitterly. ‘Tragedy’ made it sound like their lives were taken for nothing, that all the pain and turmoil caused by their loss was the accidental flip of some cosmic switch when it was all rather inevitable. The Starks had fallen to an enemy that probably always had designs towards their end. Peggy watched the pair of long mahogany boxes be lowered into the snow-blanketed ground, plunging clenched hands deeper into her pockets.
They weren't the first or last, and now Peggy knew for certain, the threat was coming from within SHIELD, gripping the reigns of a convenient paramilitary entity while the USSR dissolved. The rats leaving a sinking ship now that Gorbachev was poised to resign as soon as he confirmed that the CIS was a reality. With all these global changes Carson might claim that things are on the upswing but she knew better.
She scanned the faces of the attendees over and over, daring any one of them to claim some sort of satisfaction, unlikely as it that would be. Her unblinking eyes stung in the winter air. The sizeable crowd mostly consisted of Howard’s co-workers, investors, fellow industrialists, and adoring socialites. These people were the best of the best, and the ones of them who weren't were the best of the worst. Not one person was out of place. Finally she settled on her godson, stone faced and barely bothered to wear a clean shirt. Mr. Jarvis stood with him, thoughtfully peering into the grave.
"Does he look like he cares his father is dead?" asked a gravelled voice beside her. She didn't turn to look at him.
"Get Hope back from boarding school, Hank."
"Director Carter-"
"You don't work for me anymore. And-" she breathed out, resolute- "I retired yesterday." This morning she had handpicked Fury to oversee the last of her cases, and called a realtor to list her DC apartment. She could do better on the outside, she'd decided.
"Well, Peggy,” he corrected, “I already asked her to come home, but she begged to stay." She caught the grim smile on his face out of the corner of her eye. "It's the first thing she's asked for since begging for her mother to come back. I couldn't say no."
"I seem to remember you're very good at saying no, Hank." He kept Howard at bay for years, refusing to hand over whatever technological secrets he had. Despite how things had turned out, she was grateful for the compartmentalization.
Peggy liked him. It was a hell of a responsibility to do the things they did and at the end of the day she and Howard fell on the other side of the fence from Hank. “I don’t think any of us can see over to the other side anymore,” he said at the time. He had given her a piece of the Berlin Wall before he left for San Francisco."Keep reminding her you care. She'll remember,” she said softly.
Yards away, Tony pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. Peggy watched as they masked his eyes and a tremble finally reached his lips.
"I guess I have been getting pretty good at clinging to unscientific, foolish hope," Hank said.
Of course, she thought- he'd never stop believing in Jan, and Peggy knew what that was like. "We can all use some of that, from time to time."
Finally she turned to him and thanked him for coming. Gave him a number to call. He considered her carefully and brushed some of the snow out of her hair before pulling her into a hug. She watched him walk away, a shrinking figure in retreat. When he was gone, she circled around the grave, and squeezed a familiar elbow.
"Aunt Peg," Tony greeted, threading his arm around her and resting his head on her shoulder.
"Looks like Mr. Jarvis has already started the car, dear." It was getting colder by the minute.
"Would you- would you stick around? For Christmas?" he asked. Now that she was closer she could see the puffy eyes despite his sunglasses. "I have to prep a thesis defense back in Cambridge- but I don't want to leave him alone."
Peggy had watched Tony's upbringing with more than a little disapproval, and knew he was an authority on abandonment. "How about Mr. Jarvis and I take you back up? We'll open the house in Newport and you can take you time in the lab, and when you're done we'll be waiting for you. Have dinner together." Peggy pulled him closer to her side. "And then when Mr. Jarvis goes to bed you and me can pig out on pie and watch whatever dreadful TV is on at one in the morning these days."
"You're the best, Aunt Peg."
"Gracious of you to share the title," she teased, nudging him toward the car.
When she slid into the passenger seat she was sharply reminded that the three of them hadn’t been alone together since ‘87, when she and Mr. Jarvis drove up to bail Tony after causing a small explosion at a competitor college’s football game. Mr. Jarvis was relieved it was only the Boston police this time, and not the Pentagon, but Tony had been mortified when Peggy walked around the corner at the police station that night. Up until then she had simply accepted whatever childlike quality Howard had no time for. He could be soft, and small and wrong with her without worry. She had been the one to take him to Disneyland, and let him dance stepped on the top of her feet. Aunt Peggy had never been his disciplinarian before.
"Can’t we just chalk this up to dumb things seventeen year olds do?” Tony’s voice had started shaking when Peggy had started shouting.
“When I was seventeen I was lying about my age on enlistment forms to join the war effort and put a stop to malevolent destruction. You are blessed with peace and all the resources in the world to build with your amazing mind and you choose pointless, idiotic destruction of public property?” She paused when his tears started rolling. “You were meant for more than this.”
“Yeah, I'm sure Howard had higher hopes than me getting nabbed for a couple rockets a six year old could have built,” Tony said bitterly.
“I'm not talking about what Howard meant for you to do, I’m talking about what the six year old wanted to be, Tony.”
Peggy hoped that lesson had stuck.
-*-
They regrouped at the house on Long Island, where Tony had a few bags he needed. With Mr. Jarvis she raided the place for some decorations and a festive set of china. She made a pass through her guest room, and rediscovered a handful of memos from Howard amongst the papers in her desk.
-
Peg
Laughed myself silly as soon as I left the hearing this morning. I'm amazed you got out of there without being held in contempt of Congress, honestly.Still- I loved the bit where you mentioned a "group of fanatics undermining the Constitution by engaging in conspiracy outside of all legal process." I bet they're still scratching their heads. You're a hell of a girl, Peg. Steve would have been so proud. Call the office when you get in from DC and we'll do dinner.
H
-
Have I mentioned lately how much I hate plutonium? I wager a month of Friday-Saturday rotation that it takes Truman four weeks to say A THING.
H
-
Peg
Could you stunt-wife for me at a dinner on the 5th? I want to talk Vanko into something but his missus is... monopolizing. I need something more tantalizing than micromanaging her husband’s career if we’re going to get around to viable nuclear alternatives by pudding time. You’ll do.
H
-
I'll stop trying to set you up with Kissinger when you stop singing "Impossible Dream" at me whenever I enter a room. But he’s between wives right now, and he's going places, I tell you.
H
-
Peg
Remember that time in '57 when we dropped a 42k lb bomb on New Mexico and I'll never sleep soundly ever again? Well, it's been declassified now, in case you ever want to tell stories about the good old days and make an intern cry.
H
-
I have, in fact, never met Carly Simon.
H
God, she would miss that man. It was easily the longest relationship of her life. They had plenty of fights side by side and amongst themselves over the years, and though she sometimes made excuses for Howard he didn’t really need her defend him. She was well aware he wasn’t perfect when people called him monster, but Peggy also knew that he made himself that way to be bigger and worse than the worst that could happen. There were mathematical, acceptable losses, and if he didn't lose his life, he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had to lose his soul to make those calculations.
You wouldn’t be surprised that in the end it came to both, Peggy thought.
She folded the papers into her pockets, retrieved a picture frame and a long-lost lipstick from the dresser, and turned out the light for the last time.