Chapter 29
The last time she’d looked this glamorous, she’d walked away from yet another marriage proposal and decided to jump forward with a stranger into time. Despite the modern hairstyle, with its sleek layers that framed her face, she’d still managed something of the old curls and waves, pinning the concoction up neatly on the sides, a look that came so easy to her it was practically muscle memory. Her dark hair was an elegant froth of curls kept together with more pins than she’d worn in months. With her make-up slightly more glamorous than what she normally managed and with some of the simple diamonds she’d inherited from her grandmother, she felt as if she might just pass as someone who belonged at this modern-day, elegant party.
Peggy hadn’t lied to Coulson, she’d learned from her years in the SSR and days as a spy that one prepares for any sort of eventuality, and she’d of course packed away the sort of clothes one might need for anything, be it breaking into someone’s house or attending a fancy gala filled with glittering people. The dress she’d brought was simple, tea length and midnight colored, off the shoulder in elegant silk. Juan had lectured her about finding fabrics and looks that enhanced her figure. As he had said, “God blessed you a lot, girl, you need to flaunt what he gave you!” This was a dress that certainly did that, while still managing to be modest enough that she didn’t feel like she would stand out in a room full of others she was trying to blend with. Still, it was a nice dancing dress, one she’d have worn in the 1940s, perhaps to go dancing, had she been given the chance. Perhaps, should Fury’s search teams be lucky, she would get to try it out soon.
That promise put a flush in her cheeks as she slipped into her most trusty pumps, a pair she’d brought from the past with her. More durable and sturdy than the modern stilettos should she need them in a fight, she at least knew they would hold up. She adjusted her stocking lines and smoothed her skirt, making sure her favorite sidearm was there, tucked underneath in the thigh holster Sharon had gifted her, more sleek and modern and more able to easily hide her weapon under her clothing. She gathered her clutch purse with her ticket, her modern badge, and ID, and checked the compartment she had inside for her extra ammo before slipping in her lipstick and a compact. She felt as prepared and armored as she was going to get.
Coulson had texted her to meet him downstairs in the hotel lounge, an elegant bar area by the lobby. Peggy made her way down to the frankly stunning open area, a vision of golden light and crystal, with hand-carved wooden inlays in the ceiling and frescos that looked like masterpieces. Honestly, it was the sort of elegance she would have expected Howard to throw money at, not SHIELD, and she found herself pausing long enough to stare at the gorgeous ceiling before finding Coulson in the elegant lounge.
He was sitting patiently, an ever-vigilant agent, eyes roaming the area, checking on exits. Still, even he did a double take as Peggy walked up, only just managing not to make a fool of himself. “Errr...Director Carter.”
Ahh, she had forced him back to his earliest formality with her. “I take it the outfit is a success then?”
“I...uh…” He floundered, clearly searching for something to say and falling back on an embarrassed smile and a simple “Yes!”
“Good, as I don’t want to stand out as an agent tonight.”
Coulson's ears were a bit pink, still a bit thunderstruck, but in a kindly and courtly way. “Well, I must say that you are very lovely, and that is perhaps unprofessional, but I felt it should be said.”
Peggy could only chuckle lightly at him. “You do realize I’m older than this fabulous hotel by at least two years.”
“And I would say you both have weathered it well.” He held out an arm to her, dressed simply in his ubiquitous black suit and tie, only slightly shined up for the event. “If I may say so, Director, I can see why Captain Rogers was so taken with you.”
That did make her smile, recalling her private hopes from earlier. “He does owe me a date when he wakes up.”
“He’s a lucky man to have you here waiting for him.”
They both were lucky, Peggy privately mused.
Coulson walked out of the sumptuous lobby and to the mild sidewalk outside. “I had HQ here send a car round to drive us there. It’s not far, but it’s the expectation of it all.”
“Of course,” Peggy replied as a black sedan pulled up - really, did SHIELD have anything that wasn’t dark and obvious - as one of the hotel attendants opened the door for them. Coulson handed her inside before settling himself. Once the door closed, the driver turned to greet them both.
“I'm Agent Solarzano, Director Carter, Coulson.” He was a large, beefy man who met their greeting with a stoic nod. “I’ll be running the main communications and security for you tonight. Do you have your communication devices?”
Coulson waived his right wrist. “Like I go anywhere without it, I learned my lesson.”
“I remember.” The other agent flashed a grin, reaching into the middle console and passing a packet to Peggy. “Director, these are our on-the-ground communication devices. You’ll want one in. The small nub goes into your ear; it’s a Bluetooth headphone, so you can hear all communication. The clip is a microphone. You’ll want to place it somewhere unobtrusive.”
Peggy tried to think what would be unobtrusive as she worked the tiny bits of plastic out of the little pouch. The small ear device was simple enough. She slipped that into her left ear where it nestled, a bit uncomfortable, but mostly out of sight.
“There’s a button on the top you can press to have it go on. I’ve already keyed it to our frequency.”
“Right,” Peggy muttered, considering her décolletage briefly before slipping the clip inside to rest at the junction of her rather sturdy, strapless bra. Both men were gentlemen enough to look away as she managed it neatly. “How do I turn this on?”
“When you press the button on the earpiece, it activates the mic,” Solarzano explained, nodding to a touchscreen console in the middle of the dashboard. “I can monitor your communications here. If you need me, I’ll be parked nearby and can send in a full SHIELD team within minutes to give you backup.”
“Is all this really necessary for a party?” Peggy asked this knowing full well she was walking in the door fully armed, and she could guess Coulson was as well.
“Stane is an unknown factor, and he knows we are SHIELD. He may get suspicious and do something drastic. I can’t exclude that from the realm of possibility.”
He was right, but she doubted Stane would do something so openly dangerous. “I have a feeling the press would have a field day if we called the entire infantry inside.”
“Hopefully we won’t have to,” Coulson replied, glibly, his eternally bland smile fixed in place once more. “Better get going if we hope to find spots to catch them.”
Coulson wasn’t wrong; the venue wasn’t far from the hotel, but the streets surrounding it had been blocked to all but guests, vendors, and their vehicles. They sat in a long line of other cars attempting to get to the main drop-off point as a small crowd of reporters in gowns and suits all shouted and took pictures from behind thin tapes of stanchions. It looked like mild chaos, but the security around it looked as collected as one could expect. Peggy had never been to events like this before, and the press in this day and age was almost a different beast than the ones she had been used to around Steve during the war. Perhaps Howard could have spoken about a different experience.
They pulled up, finally, in front of the area where guests were stepping out. Agent Solarzano turned one last time to regard them both. “Remember, I’ll be nearby. Just call me when you need me to come up.”
“Got it,” Coulson confirmed, glancing at Peggy as one of the security members, trim in a black coat, opened his door. “Ready?”
“If I’m this dressed up, I better damn well be,” she grumbled, cheekily.
They stepped out onto a red carpet that blanketed the sidewalks and steps leading up to the venue, cushioning their steps, as on either side, people with cameras taking pictures. They were not well known. Thus, no one called to them demanding they stop posing as they did other people walking up to the giant, imposing building. Peggy got a good look at this Disney Concert Hall as she took Coulson’s arm, a shining monstrosity of stainless steel that glowed with lights in the waning sunset of Southern California. It looked more like great curls of silver ribbon or some sort of giant, frothy lady's hat than it did a true building, and so foreign to Peggy’s eyes that she thought it rather ugly indeed.
Coulson seemed to read her thoughts. “Yeah, it’s not for everyone. I was out here when they were building it. The joke was that the architect must have gotten inspiration from balling up a wad of aluminum foil and calling it good.”
“It’s...different.” Peggy shook her head as they stepped up towards the lobby and a waiting attendant who asked for their tickets. She pulled hers from her purse as Coulson snagged his from his inside breast pocket. The young woman nodded, holding each in front of a device that looked not unlike the sort that Peggy saw in the modern stores. When she seemed satisfied, she smiled and waved them in. “Enjoy your evening.”
They wandered inside to the lobby, already filled with people murmuring among themselves as in one corner a band played softly near a dance floor set up among the many round tables. The flowers were sparse but elegant on immaculate linens, highlighted by candles that added a soft glow to the already golden space, paneled in dark rosy brown woods, looking dreamy and romantic. It looked far better in here than it did on the outside of the building.
“A rather swank crowd here tonight,” Coulson observed, eyeing the attendees with the attention and care Peggy was not. “I see no less than two US Congressman and one Senator, most of the local representatives and City Hall types, nearly everyone who has won an Oscar in the last ten years, and...I believe Oprah?
Since Peggy had no idea who that person was, she assumed they were important. “You said this was for the Stark Foundation, correct?”
“Yeah, specifically the Maria Stark Foundation, founded by Tony’s mother.” He nodded to a large sign standing near the entrance. It had a black and white photograph of a lovely, dark-haired woman with a quote she guessed was from her. On initial glance, she looked nothing like the son she left behind, but upon further inspection, she could see hints of the mother in the son; the shape of the nose, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her pleasant smile. Her words, printed in black script inside of a white rectangle said simply “I feel it’s the responsibility of those of whom life has given every chance to give every chance to those who haven’t been so blessed. If we don’t take the responsibility to help those who need it, who will?”
Perhaps Peggy could see more of this woman in her son than she thought, for certainly, that hadn’t been a Howard sentiment, at least not the Howard she knew. Not that he wasn’t generous, and he certainly wasn't a monster, but selflessness wasn’t innate to Howard. Perhaps that was why he had fallen in love with her, the woman who was all the things he wasn't.
“You never got to meet Howard Stark’s wife, did you?” Coulson had caught her studying the sign.
“No,” Peggy sighed, wishing she had. She would have liked to know the woman who managed to capture Howard’s heart. “They met years after I disappeared. I’m not surprised, frankly, I never expected Howard to ever settle down.”
“She seemed like a good sort, from what I heard. The foundation is her legacy, Stark works hard to keep it going in her honor. It funds all sorts of projects, everything from programs to help in economically underserved areas to educational programs for students in low-income or inner-city school districts. Tonight it’s a gala for the music and arts programs that reach out to the youth in the county, hence why it’s here at the concert hall. Stark’s mother was a patron of the arts, quite a gifted pianist from what I understand.”
Another thing she couldn’t have imagined from someone marrying Howard. “Funny as her husband couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket if he strapped it to his hand.”
“He did much singing then?” Coulson was fishing for stories and Peggy obliged with the slightest of exasperated eye rolls at the memory.
“You get a bottle of whiskey into him, Dugan, and Morita, and they would caterwaul so loudly they would scare the Germans away.” She smiled fondly, remembering the night she even disappeared. “If there was a piano and showgirls at a party he was usually there attempting to sing.”
Coulson loosed a rare, genuine smile. “Maybe that’s why Maria complimented him.”
“Maybe,” Peggy agreed, casting one glance back at the photograph before wandering with Coulson into the crowd. Buffet tables lined far walls, and an open bar took up one whole part of the space, the top of it glowing from light contained on the inside. People talked and mixed as couples swayed on the floor together.
“I’ll case the perimeter,” Peggy murmured as they passed by the bar. “Why don’t you go ahead and see if you can spot Potts or Stark? Avoid Stane if possible.”
“On it,” he muttered back, peeling off to move to the bar while she wandered towards the fringes, eyeing the room speculatively. She knew few of the faces that Coulson recognized, though she thought she recognized at least one person she’d seen on one of Sharon’s ridiculous cooking shows. On the flip side, she knew none of them would recognize her, and she used that to her advantage as she slipped around the clusters of people. Outside of the occasional, indifferent glance - or sometimes more appreciative stare - she didn’t note anyone who seemed to be interested in her either.
Waiters wandered the crowd with trays of wine, clearly not on reserve like other drinks were, and Peggy grabbed a glass of something red before settling down at a table with eye lines to the front, to the dance floor, and to the bar where Coulson chatted amiably with the bartender there, likely looking for information. No one else had claimed the space, and so Peggy made herself at home, watching the room while her glass sat, barely touched.
“A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t be sitting by herself at an event like this.”
Internally, Peggy sighed. She should have seen it coming, honestly, and didn’t. She was getting rusty. She plastered on a polite smile and pulled up the most bland, American accent she could. “Waiting for my date.”
She turned to the fellow trying to ingratiate himself with her, a handsome man, with the sort of careless good looks and plastic charm that said he either was in the film industry or some other field that required a wink and a smile to get what you wanted - investments, maybe? Whoever he was, she could practically see the superciliousness ooze off of him as he took an unwelcome seat beside her. “Well, I’m sure that he’s on his way. You know how LA traffic is, everyone is late for everything here. The name is Wade. What’s yours?”
“Becky,” Peggy dropped easily, pulling the name from her catalog of them. She’d always remembered it as being Barnes’s sister’s names. Very American sounding.
Her unwanted new friend took it all in stride, holding a hand out to her, well-manicured and smooth. “Pleased to meet you. Are you a donor or…”
“My date is,” she cut over him, emphasizing that she was expecting someone. “He heads up his family’s trust, made a mint in the oil industry out here back in the day and he’s the one great-grandkid left to be responsible with the money while all the rest blow through it.”
“Ahh,” he shrugged, a curious, predatory look in his eye. “Well, trust fund babies are the best. No having to work for their dollar.”
“And is that what you do...Wade, was it?”
“Sure!” His megawatt grin was a bit too tight and sickly. “Work in real estate and development, have done a few deals with Stark. That fancy palace he lives in up in Point Dume? I helped broker that back in the day.”
He really must think Peggy stupid to buy that line. She knew the property had been Howard’s in the 40s just when they started breaking up the ranch land to turn into Malibu proper. “Oh? That must have cost a fortune to obtain.”
“Yeah, but Stark’s good for it. But, you know, because of that I come to these events to network, build up my client list, get my name out there.”
“And not to give to a good cause?” Peggy innocently arched one eyebrow upwards, dripping naïveté. “I mean, that’s why we’re here tonight, right, to give to the Stark Foundation.”
She’d caught him out and he was scrambling, blinking furious over his slightly wilting charm. “Err...well, yeah, sure, of course, donate to help kids get...violins and stuff, I’m all for that. My kids play piano...I think.”
Wasn’t he a piece of work, Peggy mused, glancing across the room again, half afraid this idiot would make her miss their marks. “Oh, you’re married?” She could care less but hoped that it made him uncomfortable enough to move along.
“Was...she is my ex now, but you know, kids...they are great. So, about your date, do I happen to know of him?”
“Mmmm, I don’t know, he keeps a low profile.” Peggy’s eyes flickered through the crowd, she hoped in a way that suggested she was looking for her imaginary trust fund knight.
“And is he interested in perhaps diversifying his trust portfolio, maybe?”
If she weren’t busy, and if he weren’t so pathetically annoying, Peggy would have felt sorry for the man. “I don’t think so. We are just here to put a good face out there and help the foundation.”
“Of course!” He held up his whiskey glass in salute. “To the foundation and all the great things it will do!”
The bud in her ear crackled, making her jump ever so slightly, the sound so close and clear she just did hold on to her composure. “Carter, I got a visual on Stark, heading in the door now and coming right at me.”
Peggy glanced towards the entrance as heads turned and people called to a swaggering Tony Stark, dressed to the nines in a tuxedo, trimmed and clean cut and a far cry from the shabby, broken man everyone kept suspecting that he was. He made a beeline for the bar and for Coulson, who kept his composure as Stark sauntered up to place an order.
“I see Stark finally made it,” Wade beside her observed and she realized she’d telegraphed who she had been watching, or at the least Wade like everyone else observed him came in with shock and surprise. “I didn’t think he would make it.”
“Isn’t this his party?” Peggy kept up the innocent shtick, knowing he’d of course feel the need to explain the obvious to her. Men always did have that habit.
“Oh, yeah, he rarely comes to these things...well, not sober at least. And he’s not been out at all since they got him back from whatever hellhole he’d be shoved in. Poor guy, used to go partying with him back in the day. Things like that can mess with your head. They say PTSD. I hear that’s why his board is trying to give him the boot.”
“Isn’t that a shame,” she hummed sympathetically, eyeing him as Coulson made his introductions. Stark listened in mild boredom as Coulson played his straight and to-the-point SHIELD agent angle. Peggy sighed. As much as she liked Coulson, she knew that you never could get through to a Stark that way, he’d just stop listening. Sure enough, she could see him focusing on something else to the side of the dance floor, a woman, tall, copper-haired, and in a silver, satin halter dress, with a back so low it was nearly scandalous. It was sexy and inviting and just the type to catch his eye.
“Heh, would you look at that! Always suspected that was what was going on between those two.” Wade snorted into his amber whiskey taking a healthy pull.
“What’s going on with whom?” Peggy had yet to make out a face, but Stark knew her as he smoothly placed a hand on her lower back and then led her out onto the floor for a dance, all aloof charm, and witty banter.
“His secretary...assistant...whatever, Ms. Potts.”
Now that he mentioned it, it clicked with Peggy that of course that would be her, with her long, red-gold hair. She’d not seen the formidable woman outside of her work uniform and she’d not managed to catch anything more than the back of her head. “You think those two are sleeping together?”
“Tony? He gets more ass in this town than a proctologist does. I don’t see how he’s not. Honestly, people have said it for years. I mean, look at her, how could he not? Besides, why else would she put up with half of his shit if she wasn’t.”
Peggy wanted to shoot back that perhaps she was doing it out of loyalty, out of love of the work, out of respect for her boss, or any number of other things that didn’t include the tired old trope of the boss sleeping with his secretary so she could work her way to the top. “You seriously believe she would do that?”
“Hell, I would if I were in her shoes. Don’t get me wrong, Potts is smart, too smart to be doing his laundry and answering his messages. Either he pays her stupid sums of money or he’s fucking her senseless, but whatever it is, it works because she protects him and keeps everything running.”
“Loyal, you say?” She watched the two of them sway together. It was clear they were close, the way he smiled at her, disarming and vulnerable, her patient but amused expression. There was electricity in the space between them and it was clear that Wade wasn’t wrong. Even if he wasn’t sleeping with his assistant, there was a part of him that wished he was, and perhaps a part of her too.
“Yeah, like a dog, a vicious attack dog. Anyway, I figure one of these days they’ll just run off together somewhere and she’ll get half of his money. If she does, good for her.”
“Hmm, yes.” Peggy glanced towards Coulson at the bar. “You know, I think I see my date now. It’s been a pleasure, Wade.”
He looked somewhat crestfallen to see her go, or perhaps he was merely staring at the décolletage of her low-cut dress. “Well, I hope to see you around...Becky?”
“That’s right!” She flashed him a bright smile as she rose, making her way to Coulson as Stark and Potts made their way off the dance floor, off to a set of stairs that led up to another floor of guests and drinks.
“Did you get him pinned down at all,” Peggy asked as she wandered up, expectant.
“No, he blew me off fairly quickly,” Coulson replied, frustrated. “He caught sight of Potts and beelined for her.”
“I didn’t see her until they were dancing.” She was ashamed to admit that. Her skills were slipping. “They are upstairs now. Do we want to wander up there to catch them?”
“Stark’s too canny for that. My guess is he is up there with Potts right now hoping to avoid us all together.”
“If we camp out nearby, he can’t necessarily escape. Remember, pen them in and they have no other choice but to talk.”
Coulson shot her an arched smile over a glass of soda water. “How often did that work?”
“I managed to pen in the Duke of Kent for a nice long chat once. As it so happened he wasn’t a secret Nazi sympathizer, he was just sleeping with one.”
Coulson choked on his water, slightly, eyes wide. “You do realize how insane it is that you are standing here, in this place and time, telling me that story.”
“I suppose it is,” Peggy smiled, slipping her arm through his. “Let’s go up and see what we find.”
Up the stairs more tables and couples were sitting away from the busier glitter of the main floor below. They wandered till they spied a balcony area that overlooked the street corner down below, Stark and Potts murmuring together briefly, so close that Peggy nearly gave the very supercilious Wade downstairs the benefit of the doubt. Then Stark pulled away, discombobulated, smile flashing, before making for the door, looking back at his assistant inquiringly.
Coulson glanced at her. “We can pin him now as he comes out. They’re on a balcony with nowhere to go.”
Peggy had another idea. “How about when he comes out, you pin Potts, I’ll tail Stark. Maybe I’ll have better luck with him one on one.”
“Good plan,” Coulson said, turning away as Stark swaggered in the door. Peggy did the same so he didn’t see her face in the crowd. Waiting till Stark was just past her, Peggy fell in several steps behind as he practically danced down the steps, so fast that even in her most reliable of pumps she was hard-pressed to keep up. By the time she got to the bottom, Stark was already at the bar, making an order. Heading straight to him was a blonde, prettyish, hair elegantly piled up, none of which matched the pointedly resolute look she had as she slid up to Stark.
Too far to hear what the woman said, all Peggy saw was the woman produce pictures which she held up to Stark. Whatever it was, it shocked him enough that he frowned at the woman in confusion, even as she was holding a device up and making demands. Stark either didn’t hear her or was too stunned to reply. He turned on his heel and stalked off towards the front doors.
Pressing a finger to her ear, Peggy watched as the blonde followed several steps behind. She fell several steps behind her as she pressed a finger up to her ear. When the telltale beep sounded, she spoke, low and quietly, towards the microphone nestled between her breasts. “Coulson, Stark’s on the move, out the front. I’ll follow as long as I can.”
He didn’t answer, but she couldn’t imagine he hadn’t heard. She carefully maneuvered through the guests with all the grace she could manage in her dress, following behind at a leisurely pace. She didn’t wish to be so fast as to be obvious or too slow as to lose them. Thankfully, she didn’t have to go much farther, as when she reached the top of the stairs she saw Stark standing in front of a wall of reporters, cameras snapping, talking quietly - and intensely - to an ever-smiling Obadiah Stane. The blonde woman stood some distance away, watching. Peggy slid her phone out of her purse and made like several of the people out there were doing, flipping through it as she read nothing in particular. With half an eye, she watched the proceedings below as Stane turned Stark to face the cameras with a hearty laugh, posing for the requisite pictures, then murmuring to him before wandering off to talk with reporters.
Stark remained for long moments, posing for the cameras. Even the blonde got bored and left. Without a word, Stark wandered past the line of screaming reporters to a valet who ran off, Peggy presumed to fetch Stark’s driver or vehicle. He was alone and now was as good a time as any to pin him down. Slipping her phone into her purse once more, she had taken only a few strides when a booming voice somewhere down the stairs called her name.
“Miss Carter!”
Shit, she silently cursed. She’d been made!