Chapter 2
Malibu, Los Angeles, December 2012
“I thought you said this would be a small, intimate gathering of Stark’s closest friends!” Angie’s tone was as accusing as the expression on her face.
“It is an intimate gathering of Tony Stark’s closest friends,” Peggy replied cheerily, pouring half a glass of very fine - and very expensive - red wine into two glasses, one for herself, the other for one of her oldest and dearest friends.
“English, the god of thunder is literally sitting in front of that fireplace!”
“And Thor is a perfectly personable and charming man. I can introduce you.”
“I am sure he is, as are his biceps. Have you seen that god without his shirt yet?”
“Nana!” Lauren, Angie’s granddaughter, yelped in mild mortification at her grandmother’s pronouncement, her cheeks flushing, embarrassed, across her warm brown skin.
Angie blithely ignored her. “He looks like a god with that flowing hair and smile.”
Peggy, well used to Angie’s antics when they were younger, was hardly fazed. “Thor is happily in a relationship with Dr. Jane Foster sitting there next to him. She’s one of the astrophysicists on our team, the one working on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge and the planetary convergence that occurred earlier this year.”
“If I figure out any of what you just told me means, I will be suitably impressed.”
“Well, try to be suitably impressed when you chat with her. She is rather brilliant.”
“And pretty, I see why he likes her.”
“Nana, I swear, I cannot take you out in public,” Lauren muttered, rolling her dark eyes dramatically. “You didn’t hear what she said about Captain Rogers as you two came up the walk.”
“Oh, dear, she heard me say that and worse about him when we were younger.” Angie waved off her granddaughter’s horrified display, having long since explained the strange place Peggy had in her life. “I mooned over his picture right in front of her, all the while never knowing that my best girlfriend was madly in love with him.”
“To be fair, I thought he had died during the war,” Peggy countered, simply, her gaze drifting, unerringly, to where Steve stood by the glittering, tastefully decorated Christmas tree set up against the background of the Pacific Ocean. He stood with a beer bottle in hand, chatting with James Rhodes comfortably. Somehow she wasn’t shocked by this development. Rhodes was as much of a soldier as Steve, and the pair of them seemed to gravitate to each other out of sheer shared life experience. Whatever they were discussing, despite Steve being in mid-sentence, she could tell the precise moment his attention caught her watching him. Even as he spoke, his eyes slid over to meet hers, eyebrows arching in that way that was both curious and amused. Likely by her, and probably because she was standing in the middle of Stark’s Malibu mansion, watching him with the same sort of expression she did during those long meetings in Phillips’ London war room long ago.
She hadn’t noticed she was being mocked relentlessly until Angie poked her side with one manicured nail. “Stare at him any harder, English, and he might catch on fire.”
It was Peggy’s turn to flush as she pulled herself somewhat back together, but it was Tony Stark who responded, swooping in on Angie with a peck on her cheek and a companionable arm around her thin, frail shoulders. “I have a feeling Cap might be into that sort of stuff, at least from Peggy Carter.”
Her embarrassment turned to mild annoyance at Stark’s winning wink and grin. “As if you didn’t watch Pepper with that same sort of starstruck look? You looked like you had been smacked in the face with a golf club.”
“Never! I am the soul of cool, self-possessed adoration. I doubt anyone noticed how smitten I was with her until after we were officially a thing.”
Peggy was all too happy to call this bluff. “Oh, no one noticed, save SHIELD, the media, most of the tabloids…”
Stark sniffed, unperturbed. “At least the two of us don’t moon over each other from across a crowded room. Seriously, a gunshot could go off in here and neither of you would notice.”
“Don’t mock her so,” Angie slapped Stark’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. “After everything those two have been through to find each other!”
“I wouldn’t think of it mocking Peggy Carter,” Stark defended himself, lightly, ruining it by shrugging gamely. “Though, teasing mercilessly, maybe.”
“You are as bad as your father,” Angie groused, but without any heat, her chuckle softening her words. “Thank you for inviting me and my granddaughter.”
“How could I not? You know I had the biggest crush on you as a boy?”
“You and many other little boys, I imagine, and maybe some not so little boys.” Angie replied back, impishly, as poor Lauren buried her face in her hands, her halo of dark curls quivering with subsumed laughter.
“Finally, someone who is standing toe-to-toe with you?” Pepper Potts had glided up during their exchange, smirking at her partner as she held out a graceful hand to Angie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Martin.”
“And to meet you, Miss Potts. I’ve read so much about you, and I must say, you are every bit as lovely in person as I would hope for Anthony here.”
“Oh, here we go,” Stark muttered, pulling an arm away to make for the wine bottle that Peggy slid over to him.
“Thank you,” Pepper continued, the gleam in her blue eyes the tell-tale at her secret delight at how easily Angie managed Tony and his antics. “Tony tells me you met a few times when he was young. Was he as much of a handful then as now?”
“You say that as if that isn’t the trait you love the most about me,” he protested with a sly grin.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Angie cut in, studying Stark with sharp amusement. “I only met him a few times at events with his parents. Usually he was on his best behavior. Quiet, bored at all the adult goings on.”
“See, I do know how to behave in public,” Stark smiled winningly at Pepper, who only nudged him fondly with a shoulder.
“Hmmm, and where did that side of you go when you were in those Senate hearings?”
“Ouch,” he winced, dramatically. “Just because I know how doesn’t mean I choose to.”
“Oh, I know.” She softened her words with a teasing peck on his mouth. “And that is what you keep me around for!”
Whatever mild hurt he might have felt for her gentle ribbing melted as his expression softened into the sort of adoring look that he had made fun of Peggy for just moments before. “I keep you for a lot more than that, Potts, and you know it.”
“I do,” she whispered, kissing him more firmly this time, enough so that even Peggy turned to Angie and Lauren, the former with a knowing smile, the latter grinning with a soft, sentimentality. As Pepper pulled away, she patted Stark on his cheek, fondly, before slipping from his encircling arm and turning to give Peggy a wink, sauntering off once again, leaving an utterly enchanted and wordless Stark behind.
Peggy let him sit like this for a full five seconds before clearing her throat, pointedly. “You were saying about never watching Pepper with that gobsmacked look?”
He swallowed, pulling himself back together again with a shake. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”
“Mmmm,” Peggy hummed, snorting. “I was getting ready to triumphantly point out your hypocrisy I believe.”
“You shouldn’t gloat, it’s not a good look on you,” he grumbled, though with good nature, flipping in an instant to beam at Angie. “Say, have you met Thor yet? God of thunder, Prince of Asgard, looks like he stepped out of an underwear commercial. All the girls swoon over him.”
“No, but I very much would like to!”
“Don’t encourage her,” Lauren bemoaned, flushing anew as Angie slapped her forearm softly.
“Hush and don’t ruin my fun. I may be old, but I am not dead yet!” She slowly hopped off her stool and playfully took Stark’s arm. “So, it has been some time since I met royalty, how does he prefer to be addressed?”
“Oh, we don’t stand on ceremony here,” Stark assured her, guiding her to the small group clustered around hot cocoa and Christmas sweets in front of the stocking-decked fireplace, including Thor, lounged comfortably on one small loveseat with Jane tucked up beside him, listening raptly to Darcy Lewis and Cassandra Kam try and explain the legend of Santa Claus to the alien prince with rather mixed results. Between Thor’s own questions on how this magical being was supposed to work, and Bruce Banner sneaking in the logical fallacies involved in a mythical being who delivered gifts all in one day all across the globe, the conversation was getting rather sidetracked and muddled.
Lauren sighed beside her, standing up from her own stool slowly. “I better go with them, make sure Nana doesn’t bring further shame on the family.”
“I think your grandmother will surprise you,” Peggy assured her as the younger woman trailed behind. Lauren was, Peggy decided, a very good young woman, devoted to Angie, and extremely patient. In many ways she reminded Peggy of Angie when she was younger, quick to tease, but also quick to let go, with an endless well of understanding. It wasn’t often these days Peggy opined on her long lost past, but for a moment, she did, regretting how much of Angie’s life she had missed out on. She had left her friend and everyone else in 1949 and stepped into the future in the hopes of saving the world. Angie was one of the few pieces she had left tying her to that old world and that old life. Now nearly ninety, she was old enough to not care what the world thought of her as she teased Tony Stark or flirted mildly with Thor Odinsson, and as much of a joy as that was to see, it also highlighted that she wouldn’t have much longer with her friend. It was a reminder to enjoy what time she did have with her, to savor moments like these in which she got to fall into the old, familiar patterns of their friendship.
She had another piece of her old life, though, and he was one she hadn’t thought she would get back. Her mind turned to her soldier, still chatting amiably with Rhodes, as she wandered over to the pair to join them. “Please tell me you two are not talking shop at a Christmas party.”
She could sense by the somewhat guilty look on Steve’s face and the apologetic shrug from Rhodes that they likely had been. “Hey, I’m not an Avenger, I need to get all the inside dope,” Rhodes defended himself, lightly.
“You know you could be if you wanted,” Peggy offered, genially.
“I think my superior officers would have something to say about that,” he returned, mildly, gesturing to Steve with the neck of his beer bottle. “I was telling Cap here about my new paint job. Made me look like a robot version of Captain America, complete with a silver star on the front.”
“Oh, I heard,” Peggy replied dryly, glancing at where Stark stood with Angie, engaging with Banner and Betty Ross on the feasibility of flying reindeer and wondering briefly how their conversation had gotten so ridiculous. “Tony had opinions on the so-called ‘upgrades’ to your suit. He wasn't thrilled with AIM getting a hold of his technology.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t say I was too thrilled with it either, but it came from on high, and AIM is our new contractor after Hammer proved to be a bust. DOD is still trying to figure out what to do with me. Tony only agreed to let them keep the suit with me in it, they can’t build any more based on his technology, which means they don’t want to send me in to do just anything, they want to use me to send a message.”
“The ‘star-spangled man with a plan’.” Steve sighed, shaking his head with an empathetic grimace. “Same old story, just different actors.”
“And I don’t get the show girls or a star-studded tour,” Rhodes lamented, wryly. “Still, the idea isn’t that different than back in your day, Cap. Back then, they paraded you around to show how strong the country was in the phase of Hitler and to try and sell war bonds. Now they want to show strength in the face of any and all global threats. The Battle of New York scared a lot of people at the Pentagon, worse, it made them feel like idiots. They were caught unprepared for it.”
“Not totally unprepared,” Peggy shot back, pointedly. “SHIELD let them know as soon as they had the intel.”
“Yeah, but no one took aliens seriously until there were flying space whales floating up Park Avenue. Now the public is asking them why they didn’t, and moreso, why they don’t have an Avengers team lined up for the next major attack.”
“Why do they feel they need an Avengers team,” Steve interjected.
“Because America is currently the world’s only superpower and there are many in the DOD and in Congress who feel that we have to have to prove it by having a military edge on everyone else,” Rhodes explained, shrugging, nodding to Peggy “And there are many corners of the Defense Department that have never exactly loved the idea of SHIELD, even back in the day when the SSR broke off from the Army and you and Howard spun it off into something else. They are worried about SHIELD having powerful weapons they can use whenever they feel like it without much in the way of oversight.”
“We are overseen by the World Security Council,” she countered, already knowing that was a weak argument, having dealt with their fall out for months.
“And they were the ones who called for a nuclear strike on a civilian target because they couldn’t keep their cool,” Rhodes countered the one area of attack she knew he would go to. “You’ve got to admit, Carter, that is reason enough for the generals to get nervous. Besides, sometimes there are threats that are not always global, particularly terror threats to the US.”
“And so they give you a paint job and parade you around to tell the world that America has its own Iron Man?”
“More or less, though they like the name Iron Patriot. It tested well with focus groups.”
Peggy wasn’t sure she heard him right when he said it. “Focus groups?”
Here, Rhodes did cringe, painfully, wincing at the disbelief from Peggy. “Yeah…marketing was the one that came up with that.”
“What, the US military has an advertising team now, like it is laundry detergent?”
“In fairness, they had one in our day too,” Steve pointed out, all too painfully aware of that. “I wasn’t dressed up in star-spangled tights for nothing.”
“Speaking of,” Rhodes pounced on Steve’s words, clearly looking for an exit from Peggy’s disapproval of the US military’s public relations arm. “I heard you are getting an exhibit at the Smithsonian, Cap.”
“Yeah,” Steve willingly took Rhodes’ handoff, even at the expense of his own quiet embarrassment over the fact. “I guess they are putting something together.”
“Something” felt like an understatement, but then Steve was never one for large, public displays, especially when he was the focal point. The minute he no longer had to don the tights and ridiculous cowl and boots of his USO costume, he avoided all such events, often with the excuse of a mission, even if on occasion Peggy had to make up the mission to get him out of it. The news reels following the Howling Commandos had been bad enough. Now decades in the future and no longer the poster boy for the war, he hadn’t been precisely thrilled at the idea of having an entire museum exhibit just for him.
Rhodes seemed to understand it, somewhat. “That’s got to be weird, the Air and Space Museum just putting you up for display next to the biplanes and moon lander.”
“Especially when I’m closer in age to one and not the other,” he joked, pulling his lopsided, self-deprecating smile. “I don’t know, they asked if they could display things of mine they have and I was okay with it. I don’t know how they found half of this stuff.”
“SHIELD archives, probably, or the Army.” Peggy replied. They had gone through the items they had, mostly old files and photos, newsreel footage, and replicas of the uniforms the men had all worn. The few personal items had all been donated by the families of those who had served alongside them in the war: Falsworth’s journals, family photos of Jim over the decades, a video interview with Gabe discussing his time in the war for a news program, one of Dugan’s old bowler hats, reminders that the Howling Commandos had been more than just Steve Rogers.
“I didn’t realize how many things the Army put my face on till I saw their collection of war bond posters.” Steve’s mild grimace said everything about how he felt about being a pitch man. “Trading cards were one thing, but a cracker box?”
“My personal favorite are the recruitment posters,” Rhodes offered, pulling from his beer before continuing. “Made it seem if they took you and turned you into Captain America, they could do it to anyone.”
“It didn’t quite work out like that,” Steve replied, shooting Peggy a flickering glance, filled with volumes on the strange journey he took to even getting to be Captain America. No, of all the recruits dragged in by Colonel Phillips to go through Project: Rebirth, Steve was unique among them. Very few people outside of Abraham Erskine’s small circle really understood that. The world saw the serum as a magic elixir designed to create the perfect soldier. Few understood how dangerous that even was, especially when it was given to the wrong sort of man. Peggy remembered Johann Schmidt and his transformation all too well…she knew what that danger was.
“Are we talking about the Captain America Adventure Program, because I really need to know how Peggy got a sewing machine into the backwoods of Germany with you?” Stark had crept up to them, having deposited Angie between Cassandra and Darcy by the fire, as she began relegating them with stories of her days in classic Hollywood.
Peggy rolled her eyes in disgust, but it was Steve who chuckled and nudged her teasingly. “Jokes on them, as clearly they didn’t know Peggy couldn’t sew.”
“I can stitch up a wound well enough,” she argued, though in fairness she couldn’t even say that with any degree of confidence, considering the jagged scar Jim Morita likely carried for the rest of his life.
Stark waved this away with the glass in hand, having switched to scotch over wine. “I’m surprised you went along with the whole museum thing. Being flashy isn’t your style, as I recall you telling me.”
“It’s not,” he admitted, with the careful diplomacy Steve always seemed to pull up around prickly personalities, especially Stark. “It’s the Smithsonian, though, and I didn’t really get a choice as to whether or not they could do it, only on what they put out there.”
“No offense, Cap, the whole thing feels a bit too…flag wavy for me. Like someone is trying a bit too hard, trotting out Captain America and the Greatest Generation to remind everyone of when America was badass and cool. Kind of like Rhodey and the bad paint job.”
“Oh, here we go,” Rhodes muttered, already draining the rest of the bottle he had been nursing.
“I mean, ‘Iron Patriot’? It screams kitchy comic book!”
“You know,” Peggy drawled, against her better judgment, “Steve had his own comic books during the war.”
She blamed the wine.
“Which underscores my point,” Stark quickly pivoted. “Not that Cap isn’t good at what he does, but let’s be honest they slapped his face on everything for war propaganda. So what are they using Rhodey to sell?”
Rhodes’ frown stopped just short of a glare, his limit pushed even with his best friend. “Do you wake up in the morning determined to be cynical, or is this just natural for you?”
“Mostly it’s natural, though I do have a daily supplement regimen…”
“‘War Machine’ sends out the wrong sort of message out there, especially to people who we want to work with, Tony. We can’t just bomb every place into agreeing with us as a form of global diplomacy.”
“No, but apparently we can slap a star-spangled paint job on my tech and make you a second hand Avenger.”
“Tony,” Peggy yelped, nearly choking on her mouthful of wine.
“What? I mean, that’s what they are going for, showing the world they have their own superhero to take care of things. Not a secret, they want to show their strength, how best to manage it? Put Rhodey out there in his suit of armor and assure the world that the US has a badass who can hunt down threats too. Hey, how is that Mandarin business?”
It was a testament to how long and well Rhodes had been friends with Stark that he neither snapped back at him nor lost the thread of the conversation as Stark lept to something else. “Classified,” he shot back, succinctly.
“Come on, it’s not like it’s not all over the news,” Stark cajoled. “I mean, Aunt Peggy knows about it.”
Peggy held up a hand to ward off being dragged into this conflict. “I know about it because I work for SHIELD. Sharon has been on the case for two months.”
“See, it’s not a huge secret! I mean, the guy has been putting YouTube videos out and sending home movies to CNN, he’s not precisely keeping himself silent.”
“You know, you all may be chummy being Avengers and all, but some of us have proper channels to go through. There is a reason that the government doesn’t want this out there in public, people are going to get scared.”
“I’m just saying, we did stop an alien invasion, you don’t trust us with a terrorist threat?”
“What I’m saying is that from where I’m sitting, Tony, this is not an Avengers problem. If it was, you don’t think SHIELD would have pulled you guys in months ago.” Rhodes nodded towards Peggy, pointedly. “You said it yourself, it’s been turfed off to someone else, not you guys.”
“He’s right,” Peggy affirmed. “I stuck my oar into the case once because I made it ‘Avenger’ business, and I learned my lesson. Not everything has to be that level of threat.”
Stark didn’t like hearing that, but shrugged, lazily. “Whatever, we would still handle it. Some of the tech I got going…”
“And that’s fine, but this isn’t about the world, it’s about America, and that’s my job, not yours.” Rhodey’s irritation melted into vague concern. “Hey, why you obsessing over this?”
“I’m not,” he countered, perhaps a smidge too quickly for Peggy’s liking. “Just worried as hell, like everyone else. Things seem to be, you know…escalating.”
“Then let me do my job,” Rhodes countered, firmly but kindly, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. “And I’ll let you handle the aliens and wormholes in the sky.”
“Yeah, sure!” Stark smiled, tight and tense, finishing off his glass neatly. “Anyway, seems I am all empty on this end. Anyone else want anything? Pepper will kill me if I’m not a good host.”
They shook their heads, despite the fact that Rhodes had emptied his bottle and Steve had nearly done so. Stark nodded, once, curtly, his smile stiff and perfect as he turned and wandered back to the bar, the three of them silently watching as he left.
“Is it just me, or is he teetering on the edge of a meltdown,” Rhodes murmured, worry clear as he continued to watch Stark putter around the many bottles and glasses.
“He has been for a while,” Peggy replied, softly. “I noticed it a few months ago, before the attack in London. Bruce says he has been staying late in the lab when he’s in New York, not sleeping.”
“Yeah, Pepper is saying the same thing.”
They both looked to Steve, who watched Stark with grim thoughtfulness. “Anyone suggest he go see someone about it? A doctor, shrink?”
“Better luck getting Tony to shake hands with Loki,” Rhodes chuffed, shaking his head. “Honestly, he’s been carrying around that shrapnel in his chest for nearly three years like it was some sort of badge of honor. He knows some of the best heart surgeons in the world and has tech that looks like magic and he’s not gotten it taken care of yet?”
“Sometimes wounds come to be so much a part of you it’s as terrifying to give them up as it is to have them.” The small, familiar line that formed between Steve’s brows whenever he grew concerned deepened. “Especially when we define ourselves by our trauma.”
“He keeps this up and he’s going to lose more than just a good night’s sleep,” Rhodes said, twiddling with the bottle in his hand. “You know, Pepper is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I’ve known Tony for twenty-five years, and this is the first time I’ve seen him really think about someone outside of himself, really commit to making someone other than himself happy. But since New York…I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like what,” Peggy prodded, disquiet clear in her voice.
Rhodes paused a long moment before answering. “Scared...like really scared.”