Archive of Our Own

When Peggy and Steve locked eyes, she knew she wasn't coming back. That didn't stop the fierce determination fueling each step as she forced the monster back through the portal. With the promise of their upcoming dance boosting what was left of her energy, Peggy continued to take one foot in front of the other as the tentacles disappeared in the swirl of blazing blue and white light. Peggy looked away when Steve realized what was happening and his expression fell. She was unwilling to watch the horror spread across his features as she moved steadily forward, a thick tendril snaking around her waist and gripping her tightly as she followed the monster through the portal.

It swirled around her in a blur of blinding blue and white light, then she was stepping forward onto spongy, damp land that squelched underfoot and smelled of earthy decay. It reminded her of the swamps she’d seen the previous summer when a mission sent her to the state of Louisiana.

Peggy hacked at the tentacle wrapped around her until it was severed and fell from her skin, nerveless. She sliced and parried but seemed to get nowhere as the creature regrew limbs as fast as she hacked through them. Their fight was unending and time lost all meaning as Peggy lunged and thrust the sword, parrying with the shield. In her peripheral vision she could see the hulking outline of tall trees, thick moss drooping from dead branches. Between the trees there were dozens and dozens of eyes, shifting and blinking as they watched her, speaking in low voices. The language sounded thick and guttural, but Peggy couldn’t make out anything they were saying as the beast roared and slammed tentacles against the ground, trying to catch her.

There was no time to analyze further; the monster attacked and she fought back until the portal hummed to life again, blazing blue behind her. The voices rose from a whisper to a cacophony and Peggy kept swinging the sword as she dove through the portal, back to her home.

She stumbled to a stop on the other side of the portal. It closed immediately and bits of tentacles fell to the ground around her, hitting the floor with wet, smacking sounds. Her chest heaved as she gulped in a deep breath and braced for whatever fight remained in the bunker, sword up, shield braced in front of her. It took several seconds to register that there was no obvious fight waiting, no Howard, no Steve. Just two strange men standing next to the device that opened the portal, both watching her with wide eyes. 

What had been one long fight to her had been over seventy years back home. Steve was gone. Barnes and Stark, too--a few of the Commandos were still alive but close to the end. Director Fury and Special Agent Barton caught her up on some of the basics and the research Barton had found that led them to the bunker with the cube that opened the portal. Peggy followed them out of the bunker covered in drying goo, mind blank from exhaustion, and an ache beginning in her chest that she suspected would manifest itself as grief for everything she’d lost the moment she was alone.

Her family. Her friends. The life she’d been building for herself. All gone.

The jet ride across the ocean was quiet. Barton told her how they won the war but she only processed bits and pieces of the conversation as she drifted into a light, uneasy sleep between bouts of turbulence. Each time the jet shuddered, she gasped awake, heart pounding from broken dreams of the tentacles tightening against her skin and the unintelligible voices growing louder and louder.

“You’re safe,” Barton told her when her eyes flew open, his voice low and calm. He didn’t attempt to touch her or offer empty condolences. Peggy gave him a grateful smile before she sagged back against her seat.

Fury announced their descent when they were over New York. Peggy stared out the window as they flew beneath the clouds, exposing the massive skyscrapers and miles and miles of city lights below.

“Looks a little different, huh,” Barton remarked.

“A little,” she echoed, taking in the concrete expansion that had occurred in seven decades. It was the same city but taller and wider, sprawling as far as the eye could see beyond the rivers and the boroughs she remembered.

“You were presumed dead,” Director Fury--or Nick as he’d told her--spoke as they walked across the tarmac, away from the jet and toward a vehicle that looked more like a tank than a car, with massive wheels, dark windows, and smooth, shiny black lines. “It’s been a couple decades, so it’s going to take a day or two to get you set up with paperwork and bring you back to life legally. In the meantime, Barton’s got an apartment with a spare room. SHIELD has some safehouses, too, but that would need to be on the books.” Peggy heard the implication that the paperwork would have to be done sooner if she chose a SHIELD safehouse.

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone--” she started, looking between the two men.

“It’s no problem,” Barton said. “I’ve been on a few missions where... Well, sometimes it’s nice to know someone else is down the hall.”

Peggy thought of the half-dreams on the flight, tentacles and whispering darkness surrounding her. “I have a lot to catch up on, too,” she said as Fury pressed a button on his belt and the vehicle made a chirping noise as the lock mechanisms disengaged.

“70 years’ worth of technological advancement,” Fury confirmed. He opened the driver’s side door and Barton got in behind him with a heavy briefcase, leaving Peggy with the passenger’s side seat. “It’s been a long day. We’ll save the debrief for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Everything she still had to deal with threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of the next day (and the day after that and the day after that, endless days stretching into an unknown future where she knew no one and had nothing), but she pushed the emotion away and imagined what Steve might have said. You’re alive, Peggy, and the world needs you now just as much as it did then. You’re there for a reason. Find your dancing partner.

“Debrief tomorrow,” she agreed with a weak smile.

***

Clint’s apartment was in Brooklyn, the simple brick building four stories tall. There were four apartments on each floor but Clint stopped at the first door on the left and unlocked it.

A blond dog with one eye waited on the other side, panting widely, tongue lolling on one side.

“This is Pizza Dog, also known as Lucky. I have some friends that help look after him when I’m away on missions. I let them know I wanted some privacy tonight so they cleared out, but Natasha will probably show up later. Her code name is Black Widow. If Fury has his way, you’ll get to know her soon enough.”

Clint’s apartment was cluttered with books and photographs and dog toys. She slowly pushed the door shut behind her before she kicked off her boots and followed Clint down the hallway.

He was still talking but had disappeared into a bedroom and Peggy couldn’t hear him. She stood there with Lucky, his tail thumping against her leg rhythmically until Clint returned with a bundle of clothes in his arms.

It turned out to be a towel and washcloth, plus a stack of old clothes for her to try. Clint pointed out the bathroom and left her to her devices. She fiddled with the knobs to get the temperature just so, then again with a handle that resulted in a spray of water instead of a bath. The shower was an indulgence compared to some of the field baths with cold water in a bucket and a scratchy washcloth.

Dressing slowly in the steamy bathroom felt like a luxury, too. Clint was taller but the soft gray shirt fit and the flannel pajama bottoms were comfortable once she rolled the cuffs up twice.

She towel-dried her hair in front of a fogged-over mirror, swiping her hand across it once or twice to catch a glimpse of her water-speckled reflection. The plastic toothbrush had the softest bristles she’d ever used and the toothpaste left her mouth fresh and clean without the bitter aftertaste of soap. Peggy finally washed her hands one last time in the sink, ran her hair through the towel once more before hanging it on a hook behind the door, and went to exit the bathroom.

Standing across from the door, leaning against the hallway wall, was a shorter, shapely redhead in a skin-tight black suit. She wore a belt with a red hourglass-shaped mark on the buckle in blaze red that almost matched the glossy red hair framing her face.

Peggy had encountered Black Widow assassins before. She wasn’t sure how or why this one had found her, but she dropped her dirty suit on the floor and stepped back into a fighting stance, fists up. Peggy wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The Widow smirked and started to speak when recognition seemed to catch up. She held her hands up and said, “Sorry,” voice husky and amused. “I thought you were a mutual friend. I try not to sneak up on strange women in Clint’s apartment.”

Peggy wasn’t sure how to respond but she was exhausted, so she dropped her fists and picked the dirty suit up from the floor as she straightened. “Alright, then. Do you happen to know where the spare bedroom is located?”

“That I do, Captain.” The other woman gestured for Peggy to follow her. She opened a door down the hall, revealing a small room with a twin bed and several blankets. Across from the bed was a small desk cluttered with stacks of unopened mail and a thick layer of dust. The room was otherwise empty, devoid of personal effects. 

“I would thank you but I didn’t catch your name,” Peggy dropped her suit onto the desk and collapsed on the bed.

“I’ve been called many names, but my friends know me as Natasha. My enemies know me as Black Widow, but I imagine you know that I’m only one of many Widows.” The smirk had returned, showing off bright white teeth against red-stained lips, the contrast perfect against the brilliant green of her eyes.

“Black Widow assassins are infamous across time. Impressive.” Peggy yawned and her eyes started to close. The bed dipped as Natasha sat on the side. The mattress was soft, Peggy thought. There were hard springs buried beneath thick padding, but they shifted easily under her weight and didn’t poke through. “You’ll have to excuse me,” Peggy murmured. “I think the reality of fighting a tentacle monster for 70 years in another dimension is catching up to me.”

“I’ll let Clint know you’re tucked in.” Peggy couldn’t quite tell if Natasha was joking or not, but the hint of a smile at the corner of Natasha’s mouth led her to believe she was. “Currently we are facing a distinct lack of lethal female role models.” Natasha paused then continued, “It’s an honor to meet you, Captain.”

Peggy started to reply but the door shut behind Natasha faster than she could force her lips to move. She blinked after the closed door for a moment before the soft warmth of the bed overpowered her urge to argue about female role models. She sneezed and thought of the dusty desktop before she forced herself to move and turn the pillow beneath her head over, fluffing it once before she rested against it.

Even the pillows felt softer. No feather quills poked out and they smelled clean. Peggy marveled in the comfort of the new world as she drifted off to sleep.

***

Peggy was fighting the monster in the other dimension again. She wasn’t sure how she’d been transported back, she thought she’d been in the future--but no, she was swinging her sword in the dusky mire, whispers growing louder along the treeline, the monster taking advantage of the exhaustion she felt, the same kind of exhaustion that had crept up on her in the bed at Clint’s apartment. Peggy missed on the next swing, sword nicking a quick tentacle that kept going, wrapped around her left ankle, and yanked. Peggy screamed, though no one could hear her, and she swung the sword wildly as another tentacle slammed against her, then another, and another, until they were curling around her legs and snaking up her abdomen, pinning her shoulders to the ground, tightening across her neck--

Peggy was buried in tentacles that grew tighter and tighter, until she was gasping for breath and one slipped into her mouth, pushing back toward her throat, cutting off her air supply--

Peggy woke in darkness, choking and coughing, heart racing. She scrambled back against the headboard, panting, feeling the tentacles crush her slowly--

Water. Peggy stumbled from the bed and out into the hallway, glancing around wildly to orient herself before she moved toward the living room and open kitchen.

Natasha sat upright on the couch in the darkness, features illuminated by a small rectangular that glowed in one hand as she tapped it with her other hand. A portable phone, Fury had told her when she’d asked about his, commonplace in the future.

“Water,” Peggy blurted out on her way to the sink, not stopping to see if Natasha looked up.

Natasha turned on a lamp at the end of the couch as Peggy found a cup in the cabinet above the sink. She gulped down cold tap water and pressed the cool, empty glass against her forehead with shaking hands. Her heart began to settle as she stood there, sweat she hadn’t noticed starting to cool on her skin when she placed the empty glass in the sink.

“It can be difficult to sleep with the memories of what we see in our line of work,” Natasha’s voice was quiet. Peggy hesitated in the foyer between the kitchen and living room. “If you need to talk about it with people who have experienced their share of life-altering weirdness, I can put you in touch with someone.”

“Thank you,” Peggy crossed the room to sit on the threadbare recliner angled next to the couch. “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that I’m here, in the future. This isn’t a delusion as I die in that other place.” She looked at her trembling hands.

“Traumatic experiences can affect us for a long time.” Peggy didn’t have to ask how Natasha knew. “But you’ll continue to wake up, time after time.” She picked at the worn gray upholstery on the couch. “If your mind doesn’t adapt, there are other ways to cope. Therapy. Sleeping pills. Late-night training sessions.” The look she gave Peggy was calculating. “Somehow I don’t think alcohol and narcotics are your modus operandi.”

“Not at all,” Peggy confirmed, “though a good sparring session is always appealing.”

“Fury will probably get you set up at the Avengers Compound. There’s one hell of a gym.” Natasha rubbed a hand over her face, exhaustion bleeding through the gesture. “Even if you decide against the team, you’ll be safe there until you acclimate to modern life. I doubt he could keep you if you wanted to leave, but you’d appreciate the facilities and the team.”

“Team?” Peggy echoed. “Like the Howling Commandos, some military battalion under Fury?”

“Ah, not quite.” A quick smile crossed Natasha’s face. “More like a small team of enhanced and highly intelligent, if oafish, individuals.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “Is there a Stark on the team?”

“One, yep,” Natasha chuckled. “Howard’s son. He grows on you.”

“Like father, I’m sure.” Peggy thought of Howard’s antics in the lab and around the base with the female civilians. She wasn’t sure she was ready to meet his son.

“Clint’s a member and we’ve got a scientist who was exposed to gamma radiation. He gets mad and morphs into a big, angry, green guy. There’s a bodybuilder from outer space that claims to be a god. And Fury’s got a handler assigned to the team, Agent Coulson of SHIELD. The best of the best, Earth’s mightiest heroes. If you haven’t heard a variation of this speech yet, get ready. Fury will hit you with the whole spiel soon.”

“No women?”

“It’s lonely out there,” Natasha conceded. “We have brawn but the team can be a little short in the brains department.”

“Lucky for you, I’ve got both.”

“Lucky for me,” Natasha agreed. The device in her hand buzzed and she glanced down, expression shifting to a careful neutral. She swiped a finger across the small, flat screen, then tucked it away into a pocket. Peggy was still watching her when Natasha looked back up, eyes trailing over Peggy’s form, taking in the loose shirt and flannel bottoms. Something in Peggy’s stomach squirmed, not unlike the way she’d felt the first time her roommate had done the same thing when she saw Peggy’s plain undergarments for the first time. If no one was seeing them except her, why did she need fancy, uncomfortable undergarments? Her roommate had only one retort: just in case! In case of what, she would never answer. 

“Can’t wear that to a debrief and you may not want to cross town in your suit until you’re ready to share your return with the world. With handheld recording devices,” she held up her phone, “that are all connected to everyone else’s handheld devices, news spreads like wildfire. Once you’re back, the entire world will know. The press can be... overwhelming. I can help you prepare, but we should go shopping tomorrow. SHIELD can calculate your back-compensation when your paperwork is updated. Until then, I’ve got an agency credit card with no spending limit.”

Peggy wanted to pick apart the sentence and figure out if a ‘credit card’ was anything like she imagined based on context clues, but she held her tongue. Exhaustion was creeping in again now that the need to fight was fading and the morning would come soon enough. It always did, in the city.

“Shopping tomorrow,” she agreed, and turned to walk back toward the bedroom, only hesitating slightly when she heard Natasha’s quiet response.

“It’s a date.”

The strange feeling in her gut didn’t fade until Peggy was under the covers again, staring at the dark ceiling and wondering how many social cues had changed in the time she’d been gone.

***

Natasha and Clint were talking in the kitchen when Peggy emerged from her room the next morning. She didn’t remember any other dreams but the first few seconds of consciousness were disorienting as her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room until her memories of the day prior returned.

“Coffee?” Clint held up a white mug full of dark, steaming liquid. “It’s fresh.”

“Mmm, yes.” Peggy accepted the cup and took a deep breath. The last time she’d had a cup of hot coffee the grounds had been on the third steep thanks to rations, and the resulting coffee was weak with a bitter aftertaste. Clint’s coffee smelled rich and the liquid was glossy and dark. The first sip went down smooth, the rich taste pleasurable.

“Better than what you had at home?” Clint asked.

“This is certainly not war-rationed coffee,” Peggy confirmed. Natasha and Clint both watched her, but only one gaze made her feel uncomfortably warm as the caffeine began to enter her bloodstream.

Natasha had filled Clint in on their plans and he had another stack of clothes for Peggy, this time with several pairs of worn jeans and soft shirts.

“Any neighborhoods you’d like to revisit, discover if any old haunts survived the test of time?” Natasha’s tone was jovial but there was a serious note underlining her words. I will be with you, is what she didn’t say.

The thought of looking up friends long gone only to visit graves and memorials left her uneasy. Most of her colleagues had been lost in the war or presumed dead or missing, Fury had informed her.

“Shopping is fine,” Peggy tried to think of the last store she’d visited in the city. “Is Macy’s still in Times Square?”

“Yep, and we can be there in half-hour by Uber or an hour by train. Any preference?”

Peggy didn’t imagine that hot, crowded trains had changed much. She wasn’t sure about the other option. “Are cabs still around?”

“Uber is a form of cab. Let me introduce you to the concept of a gig economy.” Natasha tapped something on her phone as she talked about late-stage capitalism and independent contractors while guiding Peggy down the block from Clint’s apartment, on the corner of the block, waiting for someone named Karun who drove a silver vehicle. Peggy didn’t recognize the make and model when Natasha mentioned them, so she stood and observed. Nat watched the oncoming traffic, only glancing away to check the [screen on her phone] before her gaze would flick toward Peggy, then back to the road.

Karun was several minutes late but Peggy didn’t mind. She looked at the neighborhood, at the buildings that didn’t look like they had changed much even if the designs on the billboards and business logos were sleek and bright, often lit up by lights. There were a lot of moving screens, too, some that had replaced traditional billboards. The background noises of the city were louder and sharper, but still familiar--footsteps, loud motors, low conversations moving down the sidewalks.

When the silver car pulled up, the window next to Natasha was already down.

“My apologies,” the driver called to them. Natasha opened the back door and gestured for Peggy to slide into the back seat first. “Getting through Manhattan is difficult because of the Pride celebration. There was an accident on--well, I won’t burden you two with all of that. Are you going to Pride?” He tapped the visor above him where a black strap held a photo in place, a young woman with a bright smile holding a multicolored flag. “My daughter had to work today or I’d be there in my ally shirt.”

Peggy knew she was missing something because the date was late June and, unless something drastic had changed, she knew America’s Independence celebration was the 4th of July.

“It’s the 26th already?” The smile Natasha gave Karun was bright and insincere, though Peggy wasn’t sure he could tell. Natasha’s expression turned calculating when she looked at Peggy. “My friend here has never been. She returned from active duty a few days ago and we were going to update her wardrobe.”

Karun tapped the screen mounted on his dashboard and the small map updated. “Thank you for your service, ma’am. You should make your way to the Village if you have time.” He glanced at the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Peggy through their reflections. “Pride is a joyous celebration of love. You won’t regret it.”

Natasha gave a slight shrug when Peggy looked at her before she settled back and pulled a seatbelt across her body. The moment Peggy’s buckle clicked into place, Karun whipped the car into the flow of traffic with a sharp movement and a steady back-and-forth with Natasha that faded to the background as Peggy watched the scenery outside the window. She wondered what it had been like to watch the city change in real-time.

The traffic slowed considerably as they drew closer to Times Square. The streets and sidewalks grew crowded with people wearing bright colors and carrying flags with striped colors that didn’t represent any countries Peggy could remember. Rainbow colors seemed prevalent among the various colored stripes and patterns, hung from windows and balconies, draped over shoulders like bright capes that fluttered behind the wearers as they walked. 

Traffic drew to a standstill three blocks from Times Square.

“Could be anything from an accident to a flash mob,” Karun said apologetically. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“No need,” Natasha was already opening her door. “We’ll get there faster walking. Thank you.”

Karun tilted his head toward them and turned up music with a quick beat in a language that Peggy didn’t recognize as she followed Natasha out of the car.

Natasha started talking as they joined the flow of people drifting down the sidewalk. A few people in business suits walked against the crowd, accidentally brushing shoulders here and there as they hurried along.

“Pride is a celebration of all things that would have fallen under the homosexual umbrella during your time. Romantic love between two men or two women. It celebrates the gender spectrum, too, and those that may identify as a different gender than they were assigned at birth, or no gender at all. That is the most basic definition, but there are other communities and sexualities represented. Pride is about celebrating love and the basic rights those communities have had to fight to obtain. It’s a rallying point to discuss some of the issues still facing the community, too.”

Memories rose unbidden in Peggy’s mind, of friends that had apartments with two bedrooms but only one with personal items, of women in the boarding homes that hosted kissing lessons to teach women how to please their husbands-to-be, and the rumors about secret clubs where those with divergent lifestyles could be found--and of the consequences if found out, of blue discharge papers and mental asylum admittances and electroshock therapy.

“That is incredible.” Peggy’s heart pounded loudly in her chest. She wasn’t sure why her mouth had gone dry but she was suddenly parched. “How long--”

“It’s only been a few years since gay marriage was legalized. This may seem like leaps and bounds, but there’s a lot of work to do and a lot of hate in the world to combat. The younger generations are getting louder and louder, but it’s slow going.” Natasha watched Peggy. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“I was a woman with a high-level position in the military. All of this speaks of incredible social progress.” She paused and considered the years between. “You’re right, maybe not as fast as it should have happened, but this would have been unimaginable in the New York of my time. I can’t wait to learn more.”

Women’s fashion was still her least favorite subject. Peggy looked at pair after pair of denim jeans with large swatches of fabric missing from the tops of the thighs and calves. “You said the youth prefer to purchase them looking like this? For this price?” The amount listed on the tiny paper tag seemed exorbitant for scraps. She shot Natasha a dubious look.

“It’s a very popular style,” Natasha’s expression was solemn but Peggy saw a slight tug at the corner of her lips. She was getting better at reading her microexpressions. “I take it you prefer to break in your clothing?”

“Yes, I prefer to start with something that will get a few more uses before being cut into rags.” She was happy at the prevalence of pants, though skirts and dresses were plentiful (even if they were much shorter than she’d expected). “The mannequin wears them well, but not I.” She wrinkled her nose and let the hanger fall back into place.

“There are some shops in the Village that may be more suitable than department stores,” Natasha plucked at a ragged thread hanging from the tattered jeans. “I can’t imagine you in the polyester pantsuits.”

The pantsuits had been near the entrance. Peggy liked the cut of the suits, but the colors were garish and the fabric was scratchy. 

“No, thank you,” Peggy shuddered.

“We’ll cut across to 5th so I can stop by the storefront for my phone’s service provider. I want to check on an upgrade.” Natasha’s voice was carefully stilted. Peggy wouldn’t have noticed but she’d been enjoying Natasha’s gradual opening up so much that the slight vocal shift back to the neutral tone was jarring.

She dismissed it as they walked down the sidewalk, Natasha’s warmth toward all of the couples and individuals in bright colors infectious. There was so much to take in and it was joyful, the music and crowds drowning out some of the sounds of city traffic. The sidewalks grew crowded the closer they walked toward Greenwich Village, some streets blocked off as groups marched in the streets. Peggy opted to stand on the sidewalk and people-watch as Natasha ducked into a crowded storefront advertising the flat devices and accompanying services.

No matter where she looked, she saw bright colors and so many different people. Women that resembled her, more than she’d ever seen in one place, with wide shoulders and hips. Men wearing bright colors and makeup. Androgynous couples holding hands. Hairstyles of various lengths and colors, bodies adorned with tattoos and piercings. Full-body leather that reminded her of the uniform she wore on the battlefield.

A thin, shirtless boy winked at her as he passed by her on the sidewalk, his skin dark, the V of his hips disappearing into tight cut-off jeans. He reminded her of Steve, if Steve had spent a month at the beach and colored his hair. “Happy Pride, honey," he sang with a jaunty wave that Peggy returned with her own and a bright smile.

“It’s my first,” Peggy told him. “I’m enjoying it so far.”

His jaw dropped and he covered his mouth with one hand. “No way. Losing your Pride V-card in New York City? Oh, love, just wait until it gets dark. And remember: it always gets better.” He swooped in for a quick peck on the lips before moving away just as fast, hips moving as he sashayed away. Peggy stared after him until he was lost in the crowd and her brain caught up. She started to laugh because, okay, wow. Pride was amazing.

***

Natasha’s expression was tight when she hurried out of the store. She grabbed Peggy’s arm and, without stopping, spoke in a clipped tone. “Let’s go.”

Peggy’s smile faltered as she stumbled into step with Natasha. “Widow? What’s going on?”

“I may have drawn unexpected attention to myself,” Natasha glanced over her shoulder before pushing forward into the crowd, harder, fingers tightening painfully around Peggy’s bicep.

“While upgrading your device?”

Natasha met Peggy’s gaze this time, a hint of guilt breaking through her otherwise stoic expression. “I may have tried to access a set of secure files on one of their cellular devices while testing it out.”

Peggy jerked to a stop. “What? Are you on a mission right now?” She pulled away from Natasha’s grip with a sharp movement. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m always on a mission,” Natasha stared over Peggy's shoulder, “and we need to move before the armed gentlemen catch up with us.” Peggy turned and scanned the crowd but couldn’t spot what Natasha was seeing. “We have a head start but the gap is closing. If they realize who you are, it will get dangerous for everyone here. Put your arm around me.”

“We’re going to talk about this,” Peggy replied in a sharp tone that left no room for brokering. She wrapped her arm around Natasha’s shoulder and pulled her close, like the other couples on the sidewalk, ignoring the way Natasha tensed beside her. 

“Okay,” Natasha agreed.

Peggy nodded to herself and said, “Lead the way.”

*** 

Natasha led them across streets and through alleys before ducking between food vendors lining the streets outside of Washington Square Park. They had made it to a copse of trees when Natasha stopped so abruptly that Peggy nearly collided with her. Two men wearing all black and carrying long guns stood out sharply as the crowd recoiled away from them. They were crossing the park, toward Peggy and Natasha.

Natasha turned and pushed Peggy against a tree. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

Peggy’s mouth went dry. “What?”

Natasha slid her hands over Peggy’s shoulders and up her neck. She could feel sparks trailing under Natasha’s hands. Natasha buried her hands in Peggy’s hair and tugged her head down. “Physical displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” she muttered just before she captured Peggy’s lips with her own.

The kiss wasn’t like the lighthearted peck from the stranger. It was a slow, deliberate meeting of mouths, shifting lips that made the feeling in her stomach return with a ferocity. It felt like the seconds trailed into minutes as Natasha kissed her. When she pulled away, Peggy was thankful for the tree’s support. She may have collapsed onto the ground without it. Natasha’s expression was schooled into place when Peggy looked at her, but she thought she saw something confident before the mask settled into place.

She’d wanted to dance with Steve.

She wanted to devour Natasha.

“Was that your first kiss in the past 70 years?” Natasha looked at the park as she stepped back, hands sliding down Peggy’s arms. Natasha clasped their hands together and squeezed gently. “I think we shook both sets. Shopping now--”

“No, now an explanation,” Peggy demanded. The kiss had been a pleasant distraction but it was over. “I won’t work with people I can’t trust. You should have told me before you engaged in espionage while we were out.”

“I didn’t know--” Natasha started but Peggy crossed her arms and shook her head.

“No. I realize we don’t know each other well, but I thought I could trust you. That trust has to run both ways.” The pleasant feeling in her stomach had turned to lead. “Or not at all.”

“You won’t be able to trust everyone you meet.” The rebuttal must have sounded just as weak to Natasha, because she bit her bottom lip and continued, “How do you feel about a compromise? I’ll talk while we walk toward the stores, if you accept that I’ll make an effort to extend my trust to you. But you should know that I only trust two people completely. It doesn’t come easy to me.”

“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that third position,” Peggy vowed.

“If that third position exists,” Natasha returned dryly. “We should move. I expect a return sweep any moment and I want to be gone when they return.”

Are you sure? Peggy thought but bit back the words and the urge to lick her lips and chase for a taste of Natasha’s mouth. Natasha held out her arm and Peggy took it in her own as they moved across the park.

There were a lot of thrift stores and boutiques in the Village, and soon enough Peggy was filling out her new wardrobe as Natasha explained how she stumbled upon widespread Hydra infiltration within SHIELD. 

“I don’t think it extends to Fury, but there are several members with influence over Fury that have connections to this new wave of Hydra.” Peggy felt horrified at the thought of Hydra making such a large comeback as Natasha explained her plan to expose the organization to the public.

“How does the government take to informants and their accomplices in your time?” Peggy asked weakly. “They didn’t take too kindly to them in my time.”

“If I go public, I’ll drop off the grid for a couple months to avoid the backlash. I have an upcoming mission that will provide valuable intel if everything goes accordingly. I want to trust the Avengers, but I won’t know until after the mission. You’re the only one who hasn’t been here to be involved with this... and I refuse to believe the First Avenger would work with Hydra.” Something in Peggy’s expression must have shown her feelings toward the organization because Natasha chuckled. “Exactly. I wouldn’t mind having backup, either.” The look she gave Peggy was solemn. “If you decide to join the team.”

“I have to meet the team first,” Peggy said.

***

Slacks, flats, and a simple blouse. Her suit was clean and hanging up at Clint’s, but she had opted to wear a new outfit to meet the team. Natasha wore tight black jeans and a black leather jacket.

“They can be a lot,” Natasha warned her. “There’s a lot of ego in one room.”

“Can’t be worse than the Commandos or the military officers from my time,” Peggy returned. “I can deal with ego.”

“True.” The elevator doors slid open, exposing a long conference room with floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a long oval table. Several people around the table were engaged in conversation that tapered off as Peggy and Natasha walked into the room. “If these guys tell you to go make coffee, you can deck ‘em.”

“I’ll have you know that I have a voice-activated system to brew coffee to almost any specification,” a dark-haired man with familiar features and facial hair spoke from the head of the table. He stood and held out his hand for Peggy to shake.

“Stark, presumably?”

His smile was bright white and toothy, like a shark. “Tony Stark, at your service.”

“I knew your father.” His grip was firm and warm as they shook. “He was--”

“Self-absorbed? A prick? A genius? I’ve heard it all before. I’m the one and only heir to the Stark name. Thankfully. He did his best, but--” Tony shrugged. There was something in his voice that Peggy couldn’t place, something at odds with the bravado behind his words. “You probably knew him better than I did.”

“He had tendencies toward self-absorption and indulgence,” Peggy chose her words carefully, “but I believe Howard cared about his friends and family. I was going to say he was a good man.” Underneath the swagger and womanizing, Peggy believed Howard was truly good, even if his methods were a bit chaotic.

Tony’s expression softened. “Sometimes he was. He couldn’t show it, but he cared.” Someone cleared their throat from Tony’s side and Tony said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me introduce you to James Rhodes--”

“Rhodey,” the other man interrupted and pushed Tony playfully. “Come on, man. You know I don’t go by James.”

“Okay, honey bear,” Tony’s voice dropped into a sultry tease and Peggy brightened as James wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulled him into a half-hug.

“Natasha took me to Pride. It was incredible! Have you two attended?”

Tony laughed. Rhodey pushed him away. “In fact, we have,” Tony answered.

“I’m an ally,” Rhodey spoke up. “Otherwise I’d be rich and sporting the Stark name.”

“Rhodey’s my best friend,” Tony explained. “We met in college and he’s been an important part of my life since. Gender doesn’t matter to me, but Rhodey is a ladies’ man.”

“As in, I like the ladies and I treat them with the utmost respect and dignity,” Rhodey straightened and said, “It’s an honor to meet you, Captain. Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, United States Air Force.”

“Nice to meet you, Colonel,” she said, but before they could discuss their service further, Stark started pointing toward the other people in the room.

“You’ve met Barton, our sharpshooter.” Barton rolled his eyes at Tony. “That hunk is Thor, the space god. No joke.” 

Thor’s voice boomed across the room as he rose from his seat at the table. “I recognize a fellow warrior when I see one! You have fought the Old Gods recently.” He walked around the table and wrapped Peggy in a tight hug. He thumped her on the back twice, hard, before he pulled away. “To survive such an encounter is rare for a god, never mind a Midgardian. I look forward to hearing of your adventure!”

“Last but not least, this meek gentleman turns into a giant green beast when he’s angry. We try not to provoke him.” The last man stood, wearing an unassuming button-down and jeans.

“Bruce Banner,” he said, eyes warm and brown, voice even.

“Doctor Banner,” Natasha corrected, stepping up beside Peggy. “Biochemistry, nuclear physics, and a healthy knowledge of gamma radiation, if I’m correct.”

“Are we comparing degrees? I have a few doctorates to throw around, if so.” Tony started listing them off.

“You are correct,” Bruce ignored Tony and held out a hand for Peggy to shake. “You can call me doctor if you’d like, but outside of the classroom, I go by Bruce. The other guy is quiet right now. You’ll meet him eventually.”

“Of course she’s going to work with the team, she is Captain Carter. The First Avenger.” Tony scoffed at Bruce, then turned to Peggy. “Right?”

“I hadn’t made any formal decisions,” Peggy hedged. “When is the next training session?”

Rhodey guffawed and slapped Tony on the shoulder. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“We haven’t had any formal training sessions yet,” Tony winced and shifted away from Rhodey. “We have weird schedules--”

“You work together as a team but you haven’t trained together?” Peggy didn’t bother hiding her skepticism.

“Bruce and I work together in the lab,” Tony seemed to deflate under Peggy’s unflinching gaze. Even Thor looked abashed.

“That will change if I join,” Peggy informed the group. “Right away. Mandatory group training sessions.”

Tony tapped something on his wrist and a small calendar projected into the air above his arm. “Let’s figure out which days work best for the team.”

Within minutes, they had settled on a biweekly training schedule that started later that week.

Sitting around the table with her new peers, committing to train together, she envisioned the bonds of a burgeoning team strengthening. The members were slightly discordant, but that could improve with time and effort. Peggy observed the way they worked together at the table to figure out a schedule, noting Tony’s take-charge attitude and how he engaged with the other members, the way he adjusted for their accommodations automatically. Thor was confident and strong, ready to help his team no matter the cost. Bruce was quiet and unassuming at a glance, but not like Natasha. Natasha could fade into the background with Clint until Peggy’s eyes slid over her without realizing what had happened. Clint sat at the end of the table and looked bored, as his eyes moved across the room and sized up the doorways and vents, calculating potential exit strategies if Peggy had to guess.

Peggy could feel Natasha’s eyes settle on her as she watched the others.

“Training schedule set up, calendar notifications on your devices,” Tony swiped a finger over his watch and the calendar projection disappeared. He pointed at Peggy. “Your Starkphone arrived at Clint’s apartment a few minutes ago. Nat can help if you have questions setting it up.” Peggy blinked. She hadn’t thought about needing a device like Natasha’s and Stark had already provided her with it. Before she could utter thanks, Tony turned back to the table and cleared his throat. “Any other agenda items?”

“I have questions about field supplies catered to women,” Peggy blurted out. Next to her, Natasha grinned.

“I can catch you up on a century's worth of advancements in menstruation,” Natasha faux-whispered, smirking widely when Tony groaned. “It’s natural and easier to deal with than injuries with blood loss," Natasha informed him.

Thor leaned forward on his elbows. “I’ve always been curious as to how the Asgardian Valkyries took care of their hygiene on the battlefield.”

“Couldn’t you ask one?” Rhodey asked.

Thor blanched at the suggestion. “I tried once. Never again.”

“Laura recommends--” and Clint started to explain his wife’s preferences. Tony listened intently and started brainstorming ways to improve the products Clint described.

The scene unfolding around her was bizarre. Openly discussing menstruation with men?

Natasha leaned in and murmured, “How times have changed, hm? They don’t understand women are best equipped to answer that specific question, but I enjoy their enthusiasm.”

The warmth of Natasha’s words ghosting over her skin sent a chill down Peggy’s spine.

Tony ordered a dozen pizzas for them (Peggy was thankful to discover some things hadn’t changed) and the meeting drifted apart after dinner. Back at Clint’s, Peggy put away her new clothing and allowed herself a moment of melancholy at the thought that she’d never get to share her new experiences with her friends. With Steve, particularly. She thought he would have enjoyed Pride.

Peggy wouldn’t have chosen to skip 70 years into the future, but if this was her life... she was going to live it. She thought Steve would understand.

She heard the front door shut and Natasha stepped into her doorway to inform her that Clint had gone for a run. Natasha updated Peggy on her mission while he was gone. “I’m hiring a pirate to take over our ship. I need to get some data while it’s free from Hydra’s control. I wish Clint could help but until I get the list, I can’t trust anyone.”

Peggy thought of Rhodey’s words. “Is he your best friend?”

“More than that. He’s my BFF. Best Friend Forever.” Natasha picked at her sleeve. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Steve would have been my BFF, I think,” Peggy offered, tone wistful.

“Maybe you’ll make new BFFs while you’re here.” Natasha took a steady breath. Both of them heard the front door open. “Trust is a good place to start.”

Clint popped into the doorframe. “Good way to start what?”

“Making BFFs,” Natasha said.

Clint gasped. “With you?” He pressed one hand to his chest in mock outrage. “That’s my title. I had to work hard for it, too! Did she tell you about Budapest?”

“No one wants to hear about Budapest,” Natasha interrupted.

“I want to hear about Budapest,” Peggy returned.

“She wants to hear about Budapest,” Clint said to Natasha, who turned away from him and rolled her eyes, the expression exaggerated. “BFFs should really know about Budapest, Nat.”

Natasha grumbled. “It was the epitome of a mission gone wrong. I don’t know how we survived.”

“Tic-tac-toe,” Clint told Peggy. “We survived in a vent for ten days playing tic-tac-toe.”

“I hate vents.” Natasha scowled.

“I like the vantage point from ceiling vents, but I needed a break from all vents after that.” To Peggy, Clint said, “Until you’ve spent 10 days in a vent with her, hiding from special forces, I’m BFF #1.”

“I’m happy to have a BFF at all,” Peggy said solemnly. “I would never want to ruin the sanctimony of your best friendship. I’ll be BFF #2.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “Do I get a say in this?”

Clint shook his head. “The BFFs fight amongst themselves for rank. You’re out.”

***

Peggy’s natural inclination for leading worked with the other Avengers, who responded well to her direction during training exercises. On off-days, she practiced with Natasha and the shield. During their first one-on-one session, Peggy attempted to wield both the shield and sword. 

A few clunky moves later, Natasha said, “You’re not fighting alone. You can focus on your strength. You’ve got the shield. Let me have the sword.”

Letting go of the sword was freeing, as if the remaining tentacles had been cut loose from her dreams.

Peggy led the mission to rescue the hostages from the pirates like she led the team training sessions. She didn’t want to lie to the crew, but she trusted Natasha and neither of them could determine if the crew members standing with them were loyal to SHIELD or Hydra. While the crew was releasing the hostages, Peggy planned to clear the deck to the control room. She’d go after the pirates, while Natasha would split off and head for the server room to copy the files. The hostages were just off the control room and the pirates were only hired to capture the vessel, not retrieve information. Natasha had made sure of it. 

As they waited to fly into position for the jump, Natasha teased Peggy about joining the dating pool. Peggy joked back, though she wondered if her intentions weren’t clear as day when she looked at Natasha. She didn’t think she could keep the fondness she felt from her features. It took everything she had not to burst into laughter when Natasha brought up Bernard.

Then Steve. If they’d been alone, Peggy may have confessed that she hadn’t been thinking about him as much as someone else, someone closer to her. But they weren’t and the timing wasn’t quite right; Natasha had argued against every scenario where she could stay after exposing Hydra, and Peggy had already missed out on one dance. She wasn’t going to schedule another.

She pushed those thoughts aside as she engaged Batroc, keeping him occupied on the deck so Natasha and the team could proceed with their individual missions, until the visage of the Watcher appeared in the sky and his booming voice rang out.

“Captain Carter, the soldier lost in time. You have been chosen.”

***

Discovering that there were other universes didn’t surprise her as much as learning the other Thor was lacking brains. She wondered about the other Peggy Carter and Captain Rogers, bittersweet amusement at the thought that they were destined to be apart even when Steve took the serum. 

All other thoughts faded as Thor drew unnecessary attention as promised, and the fight to save the multiverse began. All other thoughts faded as the fight with Ultron took front and center.

Peggy wasn’t quite oriented from pinging between the universes when Gamora asked for the stone. The sound of the motorbike didn’t register until it was too late and the machine had cut between them, a deft hand snatching the stone from midair.

The Guardians fell into their battle stances, ready to engage the stranger, but Peggy recognized the red hair and a tight black suit. “Stand down!”

It was clear this wasn’t her Natasha, not with dull, tangled hair and dirty cheeks, bags beneath blue eyes that spoke of unshakeable exhaustion of surviving when one no longer had the will to live. But her eyes were bright and they focused on Peggy as she approached with both hands up as if she were approaching a wild animal. This Natasha’s eyes weren’t green but pale blue, and just as vividly stunning.

“We’re here to stop Ultron.” Peggy didn’t stop when Natasha cocked the hammer and tightened her grip on the trigger. Putting all of her faith and trust into the friendship she shared with her Natasha, Peggy strode forward and spoke of things that had been revealed in confidence. Peggy’s steps slowed and her hands fell. In case it wasn’t enough, she let the way she felt about her Natasha show on her face and finished with, “You’re the one woman I trust to have my six, even now.” Every muscle in Natasha’s body was coiled tight, like a snake ready to strike. “There are three people you trust in the universe and I count myself lucky to be one of them.”

Natasha’s expression hardened as her eyes swept back and forth across Peggy’s face. Her lips quirked in a familiar smirk and she slid the safety on the gun. “Well. We must be close,” she drawled, amusement clear in her tone.

“I believe the term is BFF.” Peggy spoke softly but the sky cracked open before Natasha could respond and Ultron was there. The fight was back on.

When Strange gave himself over to his power, Peggy watched as waves of tentacles tore across the ground toward Ultron. For a brief moment it felt like the fight was over, that it had only ever been a fight between Strange and Ultron, as Gamora tried to destroy the Soul Stone.

Their plan failed when the Soul Stone couldn’t be destroyed by her machine.

When Ultron retrieved the stone, the fight felt like it was drawing to an end, Ultron blasting through the shields. Flecks of magic glowed brilliant gold before breaking down and drifting away under the endless assault. They were going to lose, she thought. That’s when Natasha pulled up next to Peggy on her motorbike and asked her for help.

Natasha explained her plan. Peggy said, “I’ve got the shield, you’ve got the sword.”

“More like an arrow with the mother of all viruses in the tip,” Natasha returned, “but cute wordplay.” There was no time to wonder why the similarity between the conversations with her Natasha and this Natasha made her chest ache; only time for action, as she watched Natasha take off before Peggy started running to get into position.

Natasha had taught her the breathing techniques and how she timed her blows. Peggy used that knowledge as she leaped off the building toward Ultron. She heard the motorcycle rev in the distance as she made contact with Ultron, clinging to the android and wrenching his mask back with all of her strength as Natasha fired a single arrow.

The arrow hit home.

Strange figured it out when Zola and Killmonger were fighting over the stones. The Watcher didn’t return until Strange began building the barrier around them, trapping them inside of an isolated dimension where they could fight over the stones without hurting anyone else or disturbing any other universes. The burst of energy the Watcher sent toward the dimension grew brighter and brighter, until the remaining Guardians had to look away.

It was over moments later and they stood in the quiet, dead world, blinking the afterimage away as the sun rose on the horizon. Peggy blinked over her shield to be sure it was over. Strange, the Watcher, and the pocket dimension were gone. She turned to check on the others. Natasha was staring down at a bow that Peggy recognized from Clint’s gear. She turned to Peggy with an expression of relief. It’s finally over, is what she didn’t have to say.

They didn’t wait long before the Watcher returned and pulled them back to the waystation between their universes. He explained that though the multiverse owed them a debt of gratitude, no one else could know of the events that had transpired and that they would be returned to the exact moment in time they were taken. 

The other members said goodbye and walked through the doorway.

Peggy didn’t want to leave Natasha.

“I”m not her,” Natasha said gently. Peggy couldn’t help but swipe a thumb across Natasha’s cheek, brushing away dirt and soot. “She’s going to wonder where you went if you don’t return.”

“There’s no one left in your world,” Peggy argued, “so why can’t mine have two Widows?”

“I don’t like to share, not even with myself. Besides, it’s enough to know that somewhere out there, I’m happy.”

“You’re not.” Peggy took a deep breath. “We’re not. There’s a scandal. You’re going to expose the scandal, and then you’re going to leave.”

Natasha looked away before she admitted, “I do that. I’ve had a lot taken from me. It hurts less if I decide before someone else decides for me.” She straightened and squared her shoulders before she looked at Peggy. “If you’re telling me that you could love her, please don’t let her go. I know myself. I wouldn’t leave if there was a chance I could have this.” Her fingers brushed Peggy’s arm. “You can’t expect me to make an informed decision if I don’t have all of the information. Now go. I’ll finish negotiating my future with him.”

Peggy looked at the Watcher. “I’ll stay here with her. Hasn’t she earned a happy ending, too?”

“Trust me.” The Watcher gave her a soft look. “Your world, that time, needs Captain Carter.”

Peggy turned back to Natasha, who held her gaze and smiled. Peggy swallowed against the emotion rising in her chest, nodded once, then turned and stepped through the doorway.

***

Peggy came to just in time to take a punch that knocked her to the deck. She started to curse the Watcher as Batroc danced around her. He jerked abruptly and collapsed as Natasha’s Widow Bites sent electrical currents racing through his body. Natasha recovered her Widow Bites from his twitching body as Peggy pushed herself up.

“Don’t tell me, he was your type?”

Peggy didn’t try to keep the elation from her expression as she swept Natasha into a hug. “Oh, Widow, I’ve never been so happy to see you!”

“It’s only been five minutes since you jumped,” Natasha sounded confused but she hugged Peggy back. “Did you hit your head or something?”

Peggy stepped back. “A few times, actually. But I haven’t been this clear-headed in a while.” She took a deep breath and stared into Natasha's green eyes. Her Natasha’s eyes. Please don’t let her go, the other Natasha’s voice whispered in her mind.

Peggy said, “I want you to stay because I have feelings for you. I’d like to see where these feelings could lead, if you feel the same way. Please don’t disappear when the mission is over.”

Natasha reached for Peggy’s scalp. “How hard did you hit your head, exactly?”

“Quit deflecting,” Peggy crossed her arms and jerked her chin up. “We’re having a moment.”

“Why now?” Natasha looked around the deck. “We’re in the middle of a mission.”

Peggy thought of the steely resolve behind the other Natasha’s blue eyes. “I needed you to know. It was recently pointed out to me that you can’t make an informed decision if you don’t have all of the available information. Now you do.”

Natasha gave her a searching look. Peggy knew that one day she would have to explain about the multiverse and the other Natasha, but Natasha must have found something in Peggy’s expression because she warned, “I won’t go to jail for exposing traitors.”

“As long as Tony isn’t involved in Hydra, you won’t have to worry about that.” Neither thought he was but they’d know once the mission was complete. “That means you’ll stay?”

“If there’s a chance I could have this,” Natasha reached for her hand and squeezed it, “I’ll stay.”

Peggy beamed. “Then it’s a date. A real date. After we kick Hydra’s butt.”

“Lead the way, Cap,” Natasha let go of Peggy's hand and turned toward the ship. “Let’s get the job done. I wouldn’t want you to be late for your first date in 70 years.”

“Roger that,” Peggy pulled her shield from her back with a grin and took off across the deck.

***