#backwardsandinhighheels1945

[thefuturistknows]

August 28, 2016 | Tony & Peggy

@backwardsandinhighheels1945​

To: Carter, Margaret From: Tony Stark <stark@starkindustries.com> Subject: A Request

Dear Ms. Carter,

Tony Stark. I’m afraid we haven’t spoken in a while, I hope you’ve been well.

I am contacting you, admittedly in haste, because I have a fairly sensitive request. As I’m sure you know, the Registration deadline is fast approaching, and Steve has recently taken a stand against it in front of the press. It is my understanding that you two remain close, so I wonder if I may count on you to have a word with him about this.

This is definitely not the most flattering favor I’ve asked in my life, but I’m confident you understand the urgency of this situation. Whether or not you’ll say “yes,” I would appreciate your discretion.

I’m sorry our first contact in months is me asking for favors. Again, I hope you’ve been well, and I hope we’ll talk again under less taxing circumstances.

Sincerely,

Tony Stark Head Technologist Stark Industries

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

[3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar-blog]

Carry On -- May & June 2016

For the first time in Angie’s life, the sounds of traffic kept her awake long into the night.  It was impossible to get comfortable in her bed, and the air was too warm with the window shut and too loud with the window open.  The whole prior month had been spent outside on the vast northern planes of Quebec, and now she was trapped in her eight hundred foot apartment.  Head in her pillow, she whimpered to herself until, at last, weariness took root in her.

Well I woke up to the sound of silence the cars Were cutting like knives in a fist fight And I found you with a bottle of wine Your head in the curtains and heart like the fourth of July

Even the simplest tasks were harder now.  Waking up on time, eating a balanced diet, going for a run, getting to work on time.  It was all draining.  Exercise was a chore when the memory of speed and agility were so vivid and yet inaccessible.  The wild wolf didn’t want to follow rules, was too proud to flirt for tips, and didn’t like staying in little rooms.  Even after the first few days, things hadn’t gotten much better.  

You swore and said we are not We are not shining stars This I know I never said we are “You haven’t been yourself since you went away.”  Of course Peggy would notice.  She could be such a mom sometimes.   “No?” Angie replied, and pulled her coffee mug up to her lips so she wouldn’t have to say anything else.   Peggy drummed her red nails on the table.  Clearly this was frustrating her.  You and me, both.  “You’ve barely spoken about it.”  “Not much to say.  I went camping with a friend.”  She took another sip, then began to inquire about Peggy’s transfer to the Secret Service.  

Though I've never been through hell like that I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back

Angie started to avoid the theater district entirely.  By new moon, it was seven weeks since she’d even set foot in a theater.  On and off, she missed the bright lights, the way the shadows would play across actors’ faces, the way her teacher dressed and did her hair every day like she was going somewhere special, not just teaching a bunch of adults their acting lessons.  She missed the shoddy furniture and the mismatched costume jewelry.  Who knew how long she might have stayed away if her Papa hadn’t surprised her with tickets to see Phantom of the Opera. He insisted that he hadn’t seen enough of her lately, and it was hard to turn down dinner, at least.  The show simply made her sad.  

If you're lost and alone Or you're sinking like a stone Carry on May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground Carry on Carry on, carry on

Her Papa noticed.  After the show, Angie was quiet for once.  He looked more stern than usual and asked, “Angie, you look like you have something you need to tell me.”  

Angie crinkled her nose at that, fighting away the flood of emotions kept just behind the floodgates.  Now wasn’t the time.  There might be a cure.  There might be a way to prevent anyone from finding out about the whole werewolf thing.  That was still up in the air.  What wasn’t, however, was the fact that “I’m going to quit acting, I think.”  

She spoke softly, and at first she wondered if her father had even heard.  But his expression slowly turned from concern to sadness.  “You’ve really decided?”  Angie nodded, and he pulled her into a hug, right there in the lobby.  After a long silent moment, in which Angie ignored the sounds of others’ conversations and impressions of the show, he asked, “is this my fault?  Did I ask you too many times to consider an MBA?”  

Angie broke the hug, wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  “I still don’t want to do that.  I don’t know what, but not acting.  It’s too unpredictable and hard to schedule.”  

He seemed relieved, but kept his hand on Angie’s back as he escorted her from the theatre.  “So, did you at least like the show?”  

With  the heaviness of her decision weighing her answer, Angie replied, “of course.  I’ve wanted to see this one for a while.”  

But I like to think I can cheat it all To make up for the times, I've been cheated on

Peggy was out of town on official spy business.  Howl was left with Angie to watch until she came back.  Like he could sense that things had changed, he seemed to have a greater affinity for her than he’d had before, following her around the apartment, staying close, asking for attention.  

At the dog park, he ran off to play with the other dogs.  A few of his friends were there, and Angie struck up conversation with the other dog owners.  As the evening wore on, Howl returned to her several times, and the lot of them seemed to catch on because they began to gravitate towards her, too.  Nobody else seemed to notice or mind what was happening, but Angie got the uneasy feeling that all eyes were on her and that the forming pack of dogs were waiting for her to make some move or give some signal that she didn’t know.  

By the end of the evening, their curiosity about her had turned to affectionate nuzzles and plays for her attention.  Their owners commented how she had a way with dogs, and Angie shrugged off the idea, simultaneously glad they seemed to like her and frightened they’d see through her to the monster inside.

So I met up with some friends in the edge of the night At a bar off seventy five And we talked and talked about how our parents will die All our neighbors and wives

Peggy was there for her first transformation of the moon.  She couldn’t have reacted better to the news, and immediately, Angie began to feel less alone in all of this.  

The drugs helped, too.

And it's nice to know When I was left for dead I was found and now I don't roam these streets I am not the ghost you want of me

It was only after that transformation with the drugs that Angie cracked the books Dr. Strange had given her.  They looked like they were about four hundred years old, and smelled ever so slightly of mold that had been kept at bay but not quite entirely.  Inside were horrific pictures of half-man half-wolf beasts and the destruction they caused.  Half-eaten humans, torn houses, and all sorts of destruction lay in their wake.  Angie hadn’t wanted to read further after what she’d been told of her own behavior that first night.  

The next book helped a little more.  Getting in Touch with the Wolf Within.  That book she read for hours, comparing the passages to what Logan had told her the month before during her stay with him.  All sorts of information about how to listen to the animal nature and how to keep it from consuming her, how to find little freedoms without giving herself away.  The section about werewolves in Rome:

Perhaps the most famous werewolves in history are Romulus and Remus, the founders of the city of Ancient Rome.  The most popular myth tells of two young boys who were raised by wolves, but the truth is more complex.  This wolf is currently believed to be the boys’ mother, who was often seen in wolf-form so that she would better be able to protect her children at a moment’s notice.  The two young men, though not bitten, were imbued with lycanthropy and maintained many symptoms into their adulthood, including wild passions, great charisma, and natural leadership abilities.  The two used these traits as founders of one of the greatest civilizations of the Ancient World.  

Angie was in tears by the end of the passage.

If you're lost and alone or you're sinking like a stone, Carry on May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and Carry on

“Papa, Mama, there’s something I need to tell you.”  Angie hadn’t been this nervous since she’d told them about her first girlfriend, and that hadn’t even been a forever sort of thing.  This was.  Angie had thought about all the ways this could go.  No matter what, it wouldn’t be easy for them to accept that she was sick and wouldn’t be getting better.  

She’d been quiet all evening, and at this her parents looked downright worried.  “Angie, what’s wrong?” her mother asked.  She had been immersed in the Times, but she folded it, fixing Angie with a gaze which wouldn’t leave her until Angie spoke her mind.  

“I...”  There was no guarantee that they’d believe her, even if she told them.  “I’m sick.”  That much they’d have to believe.  “It’s under control, but I’ve got something.  And it’s a chronic something.”  

Both of her parents stared at her like they were expecting to see AIDS lesions on her face and neck.  “Angie?  What’s going on?”  Her father stared at her like she was going to fall apart in front of him, and Angie immediately wished she’d said nothing at all.  She could have probably hid this for years.  

Too late now.  “I have a disease called lycanthropy.  I caught it in a lab...it must have been experimented on in there.  I’m getting treated, though; I’m not a danger to anyone.”  

“Dio...”  Mama looked over to Papa and shook her head.  Angie looked, too, but he seemed to still be trying to make sense of what she’d said.  “Angie, first of all, are you okay?”  

Angie nodded, eager to reassure her.  “Yes, I’m as fine as I can be.  It’s a little overwhelming to get used to, but I’ve got...therapy and medicine, and I’m researching it, and it’s going to be okay.  It shouldn’t change anything.  Not in a major way...”  Except for theatre.  Who would ever hire someone who would be gone 3 days a month?

“Angie, it sounds like you have everything under control.  Is it dangerous?  Or contagious?”  She was looking for a reason to worry, Angie realized.  She wanted to know why she’d been so nervous to bring it up.  

“No.  I mean, yes, but not when I take medicine, and I’m good about that.”  

“Your mother and I love you.  You have to stop coming home with news thinking we’re going to disown you; it’s bad for my health.”  Angie laughed, and the laughter turned to tears.  Neither of her parents joined her, and when she blinked them away, she saw them both still looking at her like they couldn’t quite see what the big deal had been about.  

“I don’t mind.  She comes home more when she’s worried.  At least we get to see her.”  

As the evening came to a close, Angie left her childhood home with a bag full of leftovers.  Her dad drew her into a hug, and assured her, “I don’t care if you turn into a wolf or a bear or an eggplant.  As long as you turn back, okay?”  

“Okay, I promise.”  

As the door shut, Angie looked through the bag to see what they’d given her.  Mostly vegetables, but about half way down was a box from the bakery they liked.  There was bound to be something good in there.  

Woah my head is on fire But my legs are fine After all they are mine Lay your clothes down on the floor Close the door   Hold the phone Show me how No one's ever gonna stop us now

The audition for South Pacific went quickly.  Sing a few bars, show that she could dance, and then they were either sent to the wings or were dismissed.  It felt everything and nothing like the auditions she’d done before.  This was fast paced, it was do or die, and from the wings, Angie watched as hundreds of women were dismissed.  As the crowd grew, Angie started to talk to a woman about her age, whom she’d noticed was exceptional.  Ella was in the middle of a MFA program in dance.  She was trying to get these parts to write a dissertation.  Months ago, Angie would have considered the part out of her league, but it didn’t bother her now.  This wasn’t a competition; it was a state of being.

When it was her turn again, Angie sang perfectly, and went home knowing that at the very least, she’d done well.  

'Cause we are We are shining stars We are invincible We are who we are On our darkest day When we're miles away So we'll come, we will find our way home

“Peggy, you what?”  

“I’m sending you the video file.  I knew you wouldn’t believe me unless I showed you, so I made him do it twice.”  

The video finally loaded and Angie opened it on her phone to keep the video on her computer open.  As promised, the man turned into a bear in just a few seconds.  “That looks painful,” she commented.  It was like his body stretched and flexed in all sorts of unnatural ways.  At least wolves and humans were about the same size.  

“I thought you’d like to know you’re not alone.  There are others like you, at least in Russia.”  

“Thanks.  I appreciate  it.  So what about the spy stuff? Do I get to know?”  

Peggy smiled secretively.  “You know I can’t talk about work.”  

“Even though I saw the stuff that was all over your apartment?”  

“Even though.  It’s classified now, and you’d better be quiet about all that.”  

“I promise.  Oh, Peggy, I didn’t tell you about the audition I went to.”  

“You’re auditioning again?  What changed your mind?”  

“I don’t know.  I guess I just decided I’d rather let someone else tell me no than say no for them.  Anyway, I got the part!”   

“Angie, really?”  

“As Nellie!  South Pacific Nellie!” 

Peggy hesitated, and Angie heard typing.  Then, “Angie, that’s fantastic!  I’m so happy for you!”  

“Thanks.”  

“Right, look, it’s getting late here.  It’s almost one in the morning, but I want to hear all about your rehearsals when they start, alright?”  

“Alright.  Rest easy, English.”  

If you're lost and alone Or you're sinking like a stone Carry on May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and Carry on

[a-man-outof-time]

Blue Christmas // One-Shot

He received the call on a Monday morning, early enough that he still hadn’t yet had breakfast. The number was one that had never called him before, though he’d called it many times, and he could already feel a wall shuddered down as he pressed a quick kiss to Peggy’s temple and skirted out of the kitchen. He considered leaving his suite to take the call elsewhere in the tower, but he didn’t want to risk running into anyone, so he stepped out onto the balcony and into the unusually mild winter morning.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Mister Rogers,” said voice he didn’t recognize, though he got the sense that the caller was as sorry for having to start off with ‘good morning’ and Steve was to hear it. “I’m calling in regards to Margaret.”

Peggy.

“How is she?”

“...I’m sorry, Mister Rogers. She passed away last night. It was peaceful, though; she just went to sleep...”

The nurse rambled on some more, offering condolences that Steve was sure he was only receiving because he was supposed to be some kind of celebrity, but Steve didn’t hear much of anything else he had to say. 

She just went to sleep.

Steve turned to peer back into the apartment, where Peggy -- a version of Peggy -- was flipping through a magazine as she waited for the kettle to whistle. She didn’t look back at him.

“Thank you for calling,” Steve said, cutting the nurse off mid-sentence. “And for everything you’ve done for her.”

He was still watching Peggy as he hung up, but he didn’t make a move toward the glass door between them. Instead, he dialed up Bucky but got his voicemail -- he’s out of the country, dumbass -- so he settled for leaving a message.

“Hey, Buck. Hope I’m not catching you with your pants down, but...ah.”

Steve inhaled, held the breath for a for a five-count, and then slowly released it.

“Peggy passed away last night.” He didn’t bother elaborating on which Peggy. “Dunno if you’ll be back in time for the funeral, but I thought you should know. Drop me a line when you two get back regardless, though, all right?”

He left a similar message for Sam and another for Tony, and then finally, finally returned to the kitchen. Even if he’d thought he could put on a brave face, anyone probably could have seen right through him, never mind someone trained in observation and as intimately close to Steve as Peggy was, and she met him halfway to the kitchen with concern etched across her face.

It was impossible how familiar she looked -- yet she was a corporeal ghost now.

“Darling?”

“Peggy died last night,” he said without preamble.

Physical phantasm. Sounds like a bad comic book.

She seemed at a loss for words, which was probably just as well, as that was all Steve had to offer for the moment himself.

“I think I need to step out. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He pulled away from her and started for the door, but her voice from just outside the kitchen stopped him.

“Steve?”

His next inhale came sharply, but the exhalation caught in his lungs as he turned to face her. She hadn’t pursued him. He tried not to imagine that this was probably how she’d sounded when he’d died, that she was imploring him not to leave even though they both knew he would.

“I’m sorry.”

Me, too.

He hadn’t left this Peggy, though. He’d left the Peggy who had died last night, warm in her bed but without Steve or Sharon or Gabriel with her. He’d left her, and now she had left him, and yet she was also standing in front of him, and yet --

He nodded slowly, his gaze travelling away from Peggy to a distant spot past the carpet, before he gathered his keys from the table by the door and left the suite, then the tower.

[howlingwintercommando]

D'état | Peggy and Bucky

Stepping out of the cool interior of the jet felt like being pushed out into an oven.  The sun was blazing overhead, the temperature pushing 90.  Bucky slung his pack over his shoulder, glancing back at Peggy half a pace behind him as she exited the jet.  They were in the Letaba District of South Africa, the drop zone a good few miles from the nearest town of Giyani. 

They began walking as the jet took off again, swiftly becoming a dark shape in the distance. He could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down his back between his shoulderblades beneath his shirt and jacket.  He took a slow breath of the hot, humid air, looking up at the cloudless sky, feeling the heat of the sun on his face. 

He and Peggy had been sent in to take down what was a suspected cell with ties to A.I.M.  It would be her first mission with SHIELD in this particular incarnation and he had been picked to go with her.  It felt slightly surreal to be out in the field with Peggy.  He'd got used to having Natasha as his usual partner, and the last time he'd been out with Peggy had been in the forties. 

"Got a few miles to cover before we camp the night."  He stated, glancing at his compass before thrusting it back into an inner pocket.  "You'd think they coulda dropped us in the morning rather than the hottest part of the day but apparently not."  He paused for a few seconds, dropping his pack to take off his jacket, cramming it into the top of the pack slinging it back over his shoulders again, feeling the heavy weight of equipment and weaponry settling into place. 

Then again, it still wasn't as hot as it had been in Kabul.  Small mercies to be thankful for.

[dr-betty-ross]

Drink Me: I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

“So you are the famous Peggy Carter?” Betty asked quietly, regarding the woman in front of her. It was not often she went to the forties bar that was just around the way, but there was times she broke out her period clothing and went down for a drink or two. The environment itself made the entrance fee worth it. She offered a playful grin when the other regarded her coolly.

“I am and what of it?” Her British accent come out strong, it was oddly musical. She certainly must have guys and gals going after her for that alone. Poor Steve, he had no chance against her. Ahh well, being whipped was probably a good look on him.

“Oh just curious, do you take shots?” At the other’s nod she signaled the bar tender to bring two. “So how many different weapons can you use? All the weird ones count as one.” She giggled at Peggy’s confused expression, slamming back her shot as soon as it was placed in front of her.  “Name is Betty by the way, not sure if ya would have heard of me or not. Pleasure to meet you.” 

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

The Madagascar Plan (Peggy & Open) (2 July 2016)

It was as rainy in Johannesburg as it had been in Buenos Aires.  Rainy, and Peggy hadn’t gotten much sleep on the flight over.  The sun had come up an hour ago, and shone lightly through the heavy clouds at a distance.  Peggy ordered herself a tea in the airport lounge to keep the sleepiness at bay while she opened her laptop to continue her work on this Baron Zemo puzzle.  

Insofar as big-picture items were concerned, Peggy had enough of an idea of what had happened.  Back in New York, she had received in the mail three boxes of files pertaining to Baron Zemo and other highlights of the other Peggy Carter’s career.  She’d only made the connection that they might still be useful in light of several embezzlement records made almost six months prior, all in the name of the selfsame baron.  

Using what information she had, Peggy had drawn a quick analysis and brought the information to work where the Secret Service created a committee of codebreakers, data analysts, and field agents, largely comprised of the Thunderbolts--a team over which Peggy had liaison influence and supervisory status.  

However, in order to get a full picture on the items at hand, she had to access the Argentinian archives themselves, and spent a week in Buenos Aires where she first did what research she could, then made a trip up to the infamous Baron’s palace in the woods.  Though he was known to Peggy as a former Nazi scientist who had worked in the Hydra division, the locals knew him for other things--mostly for the hood on his head which made him both a joke and someone mysterious and fearsome.  When Peggy had arrived at the palatial mansion, she quickly realized that nobody was home.  Joined by Karla Sofen of the Thunderbolts, Peggy used what information was left in the Argentina hideaway to locate their secondary base of operations in  Antananarivo.  

Having collected as much information as she could, Peggy had moved quickly, and revised while under way.  Money transfers, database of personnel, and most ominously, the words, A DIVIDED HOUSE CANNOT STAND.  

Peggy had mulled that over and over so many times in the night it made practically no sense to her now.  Satisfied that it had come to the most concrete solutions for all the pressing issues, her mind started to divert to the more ludicrous fallacies of this plan of Zemo’s.  Like why someone with as much money as he seemed to would need to embezzle money from high-profile American companies.  Or how a man wearing a hood had set up an international empire.  It was hard enough to do that with a face--doing it with a mask would surely have restricted his ability to travel.  

She sipped her tea and stared at her computer screen with increasingly dead eyes as she waited for her gate number to be called.  

It was late by the time the South African Airlines plane touched ground in  Antananarivo, making Peggy jolt awake.  She hadn’t realized she’d drifted off again, but perhaps 36 hours between proper sleeps had taken its toll.  The sun had just set, as she’d been traveling East, and though the air was cool, at least it had stopped raining at long last.  

She made it through customs and counted her blessings that a cab pulled up in front of her at the exit.  At least there was one line in which she wouldn’t have to wait.  The driver helped her with her bag and took her address, and Peggy collapsed, head resting on the window glass.  City lights flickered across her eyes, keeping her awake, but she thought longingly of her bed at the hotel.  Fighting elusive Nazis could wait until the morning.  They’d already waited seventy years.  

The flickering grew less and less frequent, until Peggy started to wonder why the city was so dim.  She opened her eyes, and found that the buildings and tight streets were replaced by a single winding road surrounded by dense jungle.  No cab driver would knowingly take her so far out of the city, which she could still see in the rear view mirror.  As quietly and carefully as she could, so as not to alert suspission, Peggy opened her phone and selected Steve’s contact. 

Help.  I’m in Madagascar, near  Antananarivo, but I don’t know which direction.  I’m being driven out by I don’t know whom to I don’t know where.  It would seem Zemo caught wind of my plans before I could execute them.  Send help or come yourself, but I doubt I can make it out of this one on my own.

Once the text had sent, Peggy cleared her throat and gave the driver fair warning.  “Excuse me, but I believe you’ve gone the wrong way.  My hotel is in the city.” 

The driver turned his head.  “You’re not going to your hotel.” 

“Like hell, I’m not.”  Peggy braced herself and threw a punch at the driver’s arm, hoping to get him uncomfortable enough with his directions that he’s slam on the breaks.  But when she touched him, her arm went numb, and a shocking sensation went through Peggy’s torso in a way that made her wonder if her heart would, in fact, stop.  But tough she was left slumped against her seat belt, her breath returned to her.  

“Like I said, the Baron has more important things in store for you.”  Peggy stared at the phone until the white light turned off at the five minute mark.  She only hoped Steve wouldn’t text back.  

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

Adventures in Puppy Sitting (Steve & Peggy)

21 June 2016, 13:46

Steve, I hate to ask you this, but could you watch Howl for me?  It’s rather late notice, and I’m sorry for that.  I was on my way out of the country when Angie told me her plans had changed and she couldn’t, after all, at least not consistently.  Only if you have the time, of course.  If not, I could probably ask Betty to take him in, but I’d rather not because her apartment’s already a zoo.  

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

Containment Area for Relocated Nazis -- Peggy (Open) 17 & 22 June 2016

“What’s all this stuff?” Angie asked, noticing the clutter on Peggy’s desk and across a large portion of the floor.  It wasn’t quite as bad now that she’d brought the documents (at least, the ones which weren’t immensely personal) in to the office to be further investigated.  “I think you may be taking your work home with you, English.”  

Peggy glanced up from the water she was pouring.  “Oh, that?  On the contrary, it was mailed to me and I haven’t sorted through all of it--Don’t touch that!” she snapped, and Angie promptly dropped the sunglasses back onto the desk.  

“You’re actually reading all of this?”  

“Yes.  It’s part of my job to be thorough.”  Peggy placed the kettle back on the stove and carried the cups into the living room/office area of her flat.  “But these in particular pertain to the woman of whom I’m a clone.”  She set the cups down on the table and turned to face Angie.  

“Oh, this was all hers?”  Peggy saw that she had switched to ruffling through the pages.  That was all fine; paper wouldn’t hurt her but she still hadn’t figured out in a safe and controlled way for what some of the devices were supposed to be used.  “How did you get a hold of them?”  

“I assume they were considered useless and non-threatening,” Peggy explained her theory.  Howl glanced Peggy’s way at the sound of the tea but didn’t leave Angie’s side.  “It seems my dog has adopted you, Angie.  I promise I do feed him when you’re not around to see it,” she joked, and cracked a smile.  Really, where were his true loyalties?  The way he was sniffing around her legs and shoes made it clear how much he’d missed Angie while she’d been on her trip.  

“Hey, buddy,” Angie addressed the dog, absently petting his ears.  “I think your mommy’s getting jealous.”  

“I’m not jealous,” Peggy protested, indignantly.  She sat down sideways so that she could keep an eye on Angie and the potentially explosive or corrosive (or whatever else) elements she had laying about.  “Actually, I do have a favor to ask of you, if you’re going to be in town for a while.”  

Angie put down the stack of letters and turned to face Peggy.  “I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”  The way she said it made Peggy think she’d had enough travel for the time being.  “Why?”  

Peggy’s smile turned insincere and apologetic.  “I’m afraid it’s my turn to leave for...” she hesitated to put a time on it, “an unknown amount of time.  You see, these papers I was sent weren’t exactly inert.  I’ve brought them to work and now that I’ve got my boss’ attention I’m leading an investigation into the activities of a former Nazi scientist.”  

Angie gave her a quizzical look Peggy couldn’t understand at first until she asked, “wouldn’t he be 90 years old...or more?”  

Peggy raised her brow.  “I suppose he must be.  It hasn’t stopped a certain captain I know.”  She was the anomaly; the others had taken the long path, which usually had the unfortunate side effect of getting very, very old.  “But would you mind looking after Howl for a few weeks while I’m gone?”  

“Of course.  And you’ll see just how much he misses you when you come back, won’t you show her?”  Angie stooped to pet Howl, then led him over towards the sofa.  

“I appreciate it, Angie.”  She took a sip of her tea.  

“Where are you going? Are you allowed to talk about it?”  

“Well, it’s spy business, so I can’t tell you much,” Peggy said, then thought for a moment.  “I will be reachable by email if you really need something.  I’ll be in South America first, but I’m not sure it it’ll be my only stop or not, and if not where I’ll be going next.  It’s heavily dependent on what I find when I’m there,” she explained.  

“You’re being so cryptic.”  

“Sorry, darling, but the rules are the rules.”  

“No, it makes you sound mysterious.  I kind of like it.”  

Peggy didn’t realize what Angie was doing until she was half way on top of her and Peggy had managed to slosh milky tea all down her front.  “Off, off.”  She pulled her hot shirt away from her skin and used the blouse material to fan her burned skin. 

“Oh, gosh Peggy I’m sorry.”  

“It’s alright.  Just wasn’t expecting you to do that.”  She stood and went to her bedroom to clean up and change.  “I’ll be back in a moment.”  

--

Buenos Aires was absolutely stunning.  Peggy made a note to herself that she would have to return at some point when she had time to herself with which to enjoy the city.  As it was, the spy found herself in a quagmire of old texts, newspaper stories about the infamous baron, and several here-say stories of questionable credibility.  Apparently the hood he’d accidentally glued to his face all those years ago had stayed stuck and as a result, everyone living around her knew what he looked like.  That was both hilariously unfortunate for him and exceedingly fortunate for Peggy.  

It hadn’t been more than two days on the ground before Peggy found a real lead.  While any person off the street could likely tell her his approximate location, it was no more precise than if she’d asked about Bigfoot’s whereabouts.  “In the woods,” they said, “he lives in a funny wooden fortress and keeps fifty servants and spends his time researching ways to get the hood off his head.”  Sometimes he would make a real appearance, at which time more information was tossed around, only some of which was authentic.  “He was a Nazi war criminal,” it was claimed, but also, “he was a disgraced nobleman in Germany who tried to make a fortune on glue,” and even, “his face was so ugly his mother glued it to his head herself.”  Eventually, Peggy managed to weed through the nonsense and arrive upon a few real sightings (which, surprisingly, did indeed indicate a wooden fortress.  Who would have figured?). 

What didn’t seem to be true, as Peggy could see the moment she arrived, was that he didn’t keep fifty servants.  That had even been one of the more plausible stories she’d heard along the way.  Though Peggy had arrived before dawn and watched from high in a nearby tree, she hadn’t seen anyone come or go from the compound all morning.  She couldn’t see into the palace, but if his staff were truly so large, they would have gone outside, at least.  That meant that he had more like two or three servants, if any at all, and Peggy was beginning to suspect not even that was the case.  Two or three she could easily handle by herself today without calling in backup from her team back in the United States.  In the initial research phase she was the only pair of boots needed on the ground.  For this next maneuver, she had been instructed to bring in help.  That was a judgement call she was willing to ignore.  

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

Take Your Evidence to Work Day (13 June 2016)

“Chief Ridgell?  Excuse me.”  Peggy tapped at the open door to his office and waited to be invited inside.  

The man, about twenty years her senior, adjusted his glasses and waved her in.  Though his desk was littered with pieces of legal pad and an extra cup of coffee, he seemed to have put the worst of the morning rush behind him.  “Carter, what is it?”  

Peggy gestured to his office door.  “Mind if I close this?”  She didn’t particularly want someone to walk in and overhear them discussing the files that had been shipped to her house last week.  

“Go ahead,” he conceded, and Peggy turned to close the heavy door.  “What’s on your mind?”  

Peggy rested her hands on her waist and drummed her fingers over her pocket where a zip drive held some of the important documents she’d read.  “Chief, about a week ago, I received in the male a collection of old intelligence which I collected in my last life.”  The phrase was one she’d been able to toss around at SHIELD or with her friends who knew she’d been a clone.  Chief Ridgell looked at her like she’d started speaking in tongues.  “The Peggy Carter who founded SHIELD,” she explained.  He seemed to accept that.  “And her things were mailed to me.  I normally wouldn’t have ever mentioned such a thing, but I’ve since gone through them and double checked with more recent data.  I believe I have the key to tracking down baron Zemo--one of the Nazi scientists who worked for the Red Skull.”  

By the time she finished, Peggy’s boss had long since dropped all pretenses of looking like he had something better to do.  “What makes you think you know where he’s hiding?”  

“I have, on hand, decades of files linking known Nazi activity with present day oddities.  Like did you know that a very similar man was caught embezzling money from several American-based companies earlier this year but remains unfound?”  

“Naturally such things work their way to my ears, yes.”  

“Sir, I believe with a little further investigation I should be able to find him.  What I’m asking of you is to be reassigned to my own project while this information is still fresh.”  

He folded his hands and mulled this over for a second.  “Why don’t you bring in the files and we’ll have our agents take a look at it.”  

Peggy nodded.  “I’ll be leading this team, won’t I?” She tapped the pocketed device again.

“I think something like this should be handled by someone who’s a little more familiar with the agency, don’t you?”  

Peggy drew herself up.  “On the contrary, I have already spent a lifetime with these materials and if anyone should lead them, it’s me.  Nobody is more familiar or qualified.”  

“Do you...remember all of that?”  He was clearly unsettled by that idea.  

“No...” 

“Well, then.”  

“But if I could do it before, I can do it again, sir.  I’m still the best candidate.”  

“Very well.  But I’ll be choosing your team.”  

“That’s agreeable,” she conceded.  

“Now, if that’s all, I’d like you to get back to work.”  

“Yes, sir.”  Peggy turned to go, only to be called back.  

“Carter?”  Peggy turned and offered a questioning look.  “I didn’t know you were /the/ Margaret Carter when I hired you.  You’ve done good work at SHIELD.  Keep it up.”  

Peggy smiled.  “Thank you.  I’ll certainly try.” 

She returned to her desk, already planning the first leg of her trip.  

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

Valentine’s Day (Peggy & Steve) 14 February 2016

Peggy arrived at Grace Church on the late side.  She’d over-slept after eating chocolate with Angie far later than she ought to have been eating so much Valentine’s Day dark chocolate. Steve was already sitting in their usual pew when she slid in next to him wearing the same suit as she’d worn the night before.  “Good morning,” she whispered, though the service had yet to start.  

“Morning.”  Steve put away his phone, which Peggy assumed he’d been using to kill the down time between chatting to others in the congregation and listening to the service. “How was Galentine’s Day?”  

Peggy smiled.  It was nice that he didn’t mind asking about it.  “It was fun.  She took me to an Asian fusion place I’d never tried before.”  Angie had only woken up long enough to wish Peggy a Happy Valentine’s Day before rolling over and going back to sleep.  “Which reminds me, we still have to make plans.”  She snaked her arm under Steve’s and lay her hand in his.  “Maybe we could do dinner and dancing, or maybe you had something else in mind?”  

He closed her fingers around her hand.  He was about to reply when the sermon started.  

--

“The Met’s advertising a new exhibit on Egypt.”  They had retired into the steamy little café a block away from Grace Church.  Peggy had skipped breakfast that morning and it hadn’t been difficult to talk Steve into getting a cup of coffee and something to nosh.

Peggy looked at the paper Steve was reading.  Her side was a list of Broadway shows.  The same list that played every week, year in and year out.  “Is that something you’d like to do?”  She’d gotten her fill of Egypt in her extended stay, ending in a rather violent exchange with Rama Tut.  But if Steve wanted to go, she’d be happy to accompany him.

“Maybe.  Or what about seeing a comedy show?  Have you ever been to one?”  

“Of course.”  She bit into her chocolate croissant.

“Or that new movie, Dead—” Peggy moaned and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What’s wrong with Deadpool?”  

“It’s a documentary based on a comic book based on a mutant.  I don’t think I’m ready for that.”  

“Which part are you opposed to?”  

“I remember we watched a documentary last year.  How about we shake it up a little?  It might sound like work to you, but indoor sky diving sounds fun to me.”  She took another bite of her pastry, quickly leaning over the table with little flakes of dough fell onto too-small plate.  

“If you want to do that, we should go home and change.”  Peggy had thought he’d protest that he did the same every other week for real, but instead, he folded the newspaper and stopped looking for things to do.  “We’d have to find somewhere open on a Sunday.”  

--

There was an iFly in Westchester, and it was a little too far to gladly travel on such a cold day, but when they arrived, Peggy was glad they had.  Even in her overcoat, Peggy was shivering by the time they stepped into the building, stamping her feet and blowing on her fingers to warm back up.  “Hello, do you have a dive scheduled?”  There were several people in the lobby, and it took a second for Peggy to find where the voice had come from.

“Yes, we called a couple hours ago and you said you had room.  Rogers,” Steve answered. They were paired with an instructor, and given the safety and procedural briefing.  

“Have either of you both come here before?” he asked.  

“No, but I often make jumps in my line of work.”  

“Oh, what’s your line of work?”  

“I was in the army.”  

“Does your last name happen to be Rogers?”  

“Coincidentally.”  Peggy muffled her chuckle.

Within the hour, after equipment checks and a safety video, they were allowed one at a time to take their four minute “dive.”  Steve went first, and Peggy watched behind glass as he slid this way and that in the air, far less gracefully than she’d have expected from someone who had taken as many jumps as he had both with and without parachutes.

“How was it?” she asked  when he was done.

“Long,” he answered shortly, seemingly out of breath.

“Long?  It was four minutes.”  He looked incredibly wind-swept, even as he ran his fingers through his entirely ruined hair.

“Most jumps last, oh, a minute?  Tops.  It was fun, though.”  

“I can’t wait.”  

It had been years since she’d done this.  Air rushed past her, forcing her up, and though she meant to look at Steve’s phone camera at least once in the four minutes, it proved a much larger priority to stay upright and in the middle of the tube.  And all too soon, the blustery four minutes were over.  She lost her footing and collapsed, weak in the knee, on the floor, smiling as broadly as she ever had.

--

“I like this one.”  Peggy pointed to the screen, getting a smudge of dark chocolate on it.  “Sorry.”  She took a tissue and wiped Steve’s computer clean, then took another handful of chocolate-covered popcorn.  

“My eyes are closed in that one.”  

“Yes, but it’s the clearest, and in most you’re not facing the camera.”  

“You’re one to talk.”  Peggy’s own had turned out even worse.  In spite of her best efforts, she’d floundered around for four minutes, unable to look the right direction and keep her mouth shut at the same time.  

“I still like it the best, which one do you like?”  

He flipped through her pictures to one where she’d managed to face him, but looked like she was falling head-first, rather than flying suspended on the air. “I’d say this is worth keeping.”  

Peggy placed a cluster of fudgy popcorn to his lips.  “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”  

“I think I’d be pleased if it were even half as much as I love you.”  He set the computer aside and pulled Peggy, who was still holding the tin of popcorn, onto his lap instead.

“It’s at least that much.”  She set the popcorn aside, and planted her hands on his neck, behind his ears where his skin was soft and short-cut hair was prickly.  As he wrapped his arms around her, Peggy leaned in to kiss him.

The rest, my dear reader, is history.  

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

It’s a Wonderful Life (Peggy & Angie) 2 December 2015

“I got you a little something for your new apartment.”  

Peggy paused the movie they were watching.  She had wondered about the wrapped package.  Angie had clearly left it laying out for her to see. “That was very thoughtful, thank you, Angie.”  

The waitress picked it up and handed it to her.  “Go on.”  But though Peggy reached for the gift, she didn’t open it right away.  She still hadn’t found the right time to break the news to her friend about moving in with Steve, rather than moving in down the hall at the Griffith Hotel.  

Now that the gift-giving had started, it seemed like an even poorer time than ever.  “Angie, I hate to tell you like this - Steve offered for me to move in with him.” Angie’s face fell ever so slightly, but she kept the smile.  “And I agreed to.”  God help her, Peggy knew she was rushing into things again, but she couldn’t impose on Sharon any longer and rent wasn’t a non-issue, given that her workplace had been leveled for months.  

“Makes sense.”  Angie’s face was mostly obscured, the way they were sitting, but Peggy watched as it fell.  

“But there was something else he and I talked about, Angie, which I ought to mention.”  She was clearly upset and bracing herself for more bad news.  “Angie, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we had something last summer.”

“Peggy, it doesn’t matter.  You’d move in with him eventually, but I still think you should open the present.”

“No, Angie, it does.”  She put the picture back on the coffee table.  “He and I talked about all sorts of things that evening.  I told him that I’d have to break the news to you, and he asked what I meant by that.”  Angie sat up and turned around to face Peggy, taking the afghan they’d been sharing with her. She looked puzzled; she hadn’t put the pieces together yet.  “I explained things to him about how things were between us, and he took it rather well.”

“He’s a decent guy, Peggy.  I hope he’d be okay with your bisexuality.  He knows it’s just history. “

“He knew before about that.”  At least, he knew what she’d done.  Until recently, she herself hadn’t fully known if it was the result of an all-girl’s boarding school or a lead worth pursuing.

“Really?”

“Normally I wouldn’t have, but it came up at a particularly opportune time to mention it.”  

“Where are you going with this?”  She seemed eager to get off the sore topic and back to It’s a Wonderful Life, and Peggy couldn’t blame her.  

“I told him,” and perhaps she should have told Angie earlier, “that I still had feelings for you.”  Angie still looked like a nerve had been touched, but also, now, like she wanted to know where this was leading.  “And he was understandably upset at first,” Peggy hoped Angie would understand faster than Steve had, “but that doesn’t change how I feel about him.”

“So you’re feeling polyamorous?  What did Steve say?”

“What?”  Peggy realized what the word meant and frowned.  “I suppose that’s one way to put it.  He said a lot of things.  We both did. It wasn’t an easy conversation and I won’t bore you with the details, but in the end he thought it was better I said something to you about it.  Angie, it’s been three months and how I feel about you hasn’t changed.”  

“Wow, I…Peg, of all things, I didn’t expect that.”  

“Now, I don’t expect anything, after,” after I left you to return to Steve, “last September.”  

“What are you saying?”  

“I’m asking if you’d like to pick things up where we left off.”  

“I’d…wow, Peggy, I’d have to think about this.  You’re great, but there’s a lot to think about. You’re dating Captain America. And are you sure he’s okay with this?” She seemed uneasy with the idea. Angie was a lot of things, and Peggy could hardly blame her if “monogamist” was one of them.  

“He’s warming up to the idea.  He was sure enough to say ‘yes’.”  It occurred to Peggy that Angie may have asked with something else in mind.  Peggy gave her a knowing look, “millennials didn’t invent the ménage a trois, you know.  Steve’s heard of non-monogamy before.”  At the same time, Peggy doubted he would have ever been the one to instigate this sort of relationship.  

“I sort of figured,” Angie muttered, mulling over that which Peggy had laid before her.  “You should still open that.”  

Peggy looked at the gift again.  She could tell it was a picture, and peeled off the wrapping paper see it was a framed comic book character.  “Who is this?”  “Spy vs. Spy vs. Spy,” the title read.  The story was all pictures: a sign read “lady spy working,” with gloves and a hat over the sign next to a manhole; two male spies, one dressed in black, the other white came to look down at her; and she dropped a manhole cover on their heads.  

“The Lady in Grey.  She reminded me of you.  When it’s just the black and white spies, you never know who’ll win, but the grey spy always comes out on top.”  

Peggy smiled.  “I like it.  Thank you, Angie; it’ll go in the living room.”  Steve wasn’t much one for decoration and as it was she had her work cut out for her in the new apartment.  

“I really like you.  I think I need to talk to Steve about this.  I want to say yes, but it wouldn’t feel right if I’ve never properly met him.”  

“Of course.  He asked to meet you, too.  I can arrange for us all to sit down, maybe in the coming week,” she reached for her purse for her date book.  

“I mean just him and me.”  

Peggy dropped her phone back into her bag.  “I see.  Then, you’d consider it?”  It had felt like a long shot, and she could hardly believe Angie’s tentative ‘yes.’

“It’s a lot to consider.  I’ve never done this before.  It doesn’t sound like any of us have.”  She sighed, smiled, “I’d really like to, English, but I’d also like to talk it over with Steve before I give you a firm ‘yes’.”  

“Understood.  Well, I can put you in contact so you can take care of things in your own time.”  

“Sounds great.  Mind unpausing the movie?”

“Mind coming back with the afghan?”

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

Christmas Brunch |19 December 1975| Peggy & Tony & Others

“Yes, I’m busy this morning and I can’t babysit.”  Peggy turned off the whistling kettle and poured water into her teacup.

“I wouldn’t ask if anyone else who could look after him.  It’s only for a couple of hours.”  

“What about your wife?  Can she watch him instead?”  She pulled on the long telephone cord so she could take another two steps to the refrigerator.  Already, it was stretched and wrapped around from the living room wall. 

“My wife is in Atlantic City with her bridge ladies.”  

Peggy pulled her cream out and shook it.  “And as soon as Judy wakes up, Gabe and I are taking her to brunch.  She’s had a long semester at school.”  

“Ms Carter, he’s getting too old for me to take him for his own Christmas shopping.”  

She rolled her eyes.  Howard was terrible at this, he really was.  “And there’s really nobody else who can watch him?  His mother?”  

“Mrs. Stark is in Italy.”  Of bloody course she had gone.  “I know what you’re thinking–” 

No, you don’t.

“–and I agree that Mr. and Mrs. Stark ought to be more involved with Tony, but taking it out on him at Christmas isn’t the right way to tell them.”  Peggy frowned.  He actually had managed to read her mind.  

“I’ll have to break the news to Judy,” she conceded, and poured her cream over the tea bag.  “But this makes up for the time you helped me break into the Met.”  

Over the phone, Mr. Jarvis sounded like he was going to challenge her, then replied, “Thank you.  I’ll bring Tony to your house?” 

“That would be fine.”  The line went dead and Peggy brought the phone back to its base, wrapping the long beige cord around her hand as she went, then returned for her tea.  Upstairs, she heard bumping around as her youngest daughter finally woke up from her ten or eleven hours in bed.  A door shut, the toilet flushed.  

“Who was that on the phone?”  Gabe must have been in the office. 

Peggy dropped her tea bag into the bin.  “It was Mr. Jarvis.”  She sighed.  “He asked me if we could watch Tony while he does the Christmas shopping, and I tried to tell him we’ll be going out, but he insisted that there was no other way.”  And, God help her, she had something of a soft spot for Tony.  It was almost like having a second grandchild some days.

“I don’t mind and neither will Judy.”  

“I know, but it’s the principle of the thing.  Howard refuses to take responsibility for anything, and–”

“And that’s not Tony’s fault.  Did you really think he’d change when he became a parent?”  

“We did.” She reached up to take off his glasses, and he wrapped his arms around her when they heard bare feet on the stairs.  Peggy settled for a peck and handed Gabe his glasses.  

Dressed in the leggings and orange-and-brown tie-dye tee shirt she’d slept in, hair a fluffy, tangly mess, Judy came into the kitchen.  “Good morning, morning glory,” Gabe greeted her, “give me a big hug.  I missed you.”  He pulled his little girl into a hug.  

“The two of you match,” Peggy pointed out Gabe’s sweater.  It had exactly the same shade of orange. 

“Look at that.”  Judy opened the cupboard and pulled down the bagels Peggy had bought yesterday for her.

“Judy, don’t ruin your appetite; we’re going to brunch soon.”  

“Oh right.”  She twirled the bag to close and turned to leave the room. “I need to get dressed.”  

“And Judy?”  She turned back and gave them an inquiring look.  “Tony will be joining us.  I didn’t want him to surprise you.”

Her daughter paused, then nodded.  “Alright.”

She went back upstairs and they heard her door close.  “See?  It’s alright.”  

“I suppose.”  

Half an hour later, there was a knocking at the front door.  “That must be Mr. Jarvis.”  

“Good,” her daughter replied, returning to the kitchen to put her glass…next to the sink. They had a dish washer, and Judy still didn’t use it.  Peggy wished they could have left on time, or that she’d let Judy have her bagel.  She had come down dressed and started to drink orange juice and coffee.  Clearly she was starving.

Peggy opened the heavy front door of their town house to Mr. Jarvis with Tony in hand. “Hi, Tony,” she stooped down so she was on his level.  “Come in. We’re so happy you could join us for brunch.  Are you hungry?”  

The little boy was dressed in a suit under his coat which he looked oddly comfortable wearing.  He was the only five-year-old she knew who would stand for it.  “Yes, thank you, Aunt Peggy.”  

“Do you know who’s come home?”  Tony concentrated on that for a moment, and when his quizzical look stretched too long, Peggy gave him the answer.  “Judy’s come home from school.  Why don’t you go say ‘hi’ to her?  She’ll be so glad to see you.”  

“Judy?”

“You remember my daughter Judy.”  His expression changed from perplexed to excited and walked down the hall to the living room to see the college girl.  Peggy drew herself up again to talk to her old friend.  “How long do you think you’ll need?” she asked.  

“Three hours, perhaps, no more than four.  I can’t thank you enough for this.”  Late middle age had hit Mr. Jarvis harder than her.  But while his stature had spread and his hair had thinned, Mr. Jarvis was as kindly a man as ever.  Peggy had to admit she was thankful Tony had another role model in addition to Howard.  

“I suppose what I’m really asking is should I bring him home, or would you prefer to collect him when you have everything hidden from view?”

He seemed to count his errands and chores to the exact minute before replying, “I should be able to come for him around three.”  

“Alright. Stay warm, Mr. Jarvis.”  

Behind her, Peggy could hear the three of them talking.  “How are you, my little man?”  

“Little man?  I think he’s gotten taller, don’t you, Dad?”  

Mr. Jarvis thanked her and left, and Peggy closed the door against the cold December air. “Coats on. We’re ready to go.” Tony hadn’t taken his coat off, but his mittens and hat had ended up on the floor in the two minutes he’d come inside. “Come on, put your hand in.”  

“I’m not cold.”  

“Mr. Jarvis tells me you’re quite the tinker these days.”  

“I’ve been building circuit boards,” he informed her.  

“Oh, that’s very good.  But you know, you have to protect your little hands and that smart little head of yours.” Tony considered this and put his fingers in and took his hat from her.  “Now, would you like to escort me to the restaurant?”  

“I want to escort Judy.”  He reached up and put his hand into her brown leather glove.  

She wrapped her fingers around his mitten.  “You can escort me.”  It was clear she thought the whole thing rather funny.  

“Judy, are you sure that poncho is warm enough for today?”  The sides were open and it seemed drafty.  Gabe helped her with her own coat.  

“It’s warm enough in Boston, it’s warm enough in New York,” Judy replied.  

At least she was wearing a hat.  “If you say so.”  

“I want to go to Boston.”  

“It might be a few years before that, Tony.”  Gabe picked up the keys and walked towards he door, herding the rest of them along as he approached he door.  “But you’re pretty clever.  I’ll bet you’ll go anywhere you want.”  Peggy followed Judy and Tony down to the sidewalk as Gabe locked the door behind them. She was fond of that door, which read “G. J. & M. C.” above a brass knocker.  It had character, like the ones she’d grown up with.  Her husband put on his hat and folded up his collar against the cold winter wind.  “You look like you might be in need of an escort.”  

“Oh, do you mean me?”  She took his arm and followed the children through the snow.  

A few blocks down, they left nice town houses with neat little frosty gardens behind for an area with little restaurants and upscale shops.  “Reservation for Jones?” Judy asked of the host.  

“Under Carter,” Peggy corrected.  He started again at the top of the list, making a funny tisking noise as he looked through his list.  “Yes, I see you had a reservation for three.  Do you need a fourth chair?”  

“Yes, please.” She took off her gloves and hat to stuff in her pockets, and loosened her scarf.  “And do you have anything for Tony to sit on so he’s high enough?”  

“Yes, of course.  Right this way, and I’ll tell your server to bring a fourth place setting.”  The four followed the host to a table in the corner where they began taking off coats and folding them over the backs of the chairs.

Peggy took the seat next to Tony and asked Judy, “Dare I ask how your finals were?” She’d stopped calling in her last week and by now Peggy knew she couldn’t press these things before the semester ended.

“They went well.  There was one I couldn’t prepare for ahead of time, but I think it went alright.  There was this case study I’d never seen before.”

“I’m sure everyone felt the same way, don’t you think?”  

“I don’t know.  Some girls were writing a lot more than me.”  

“It doesn’t matter how many words, as long as you write the right ones,” Gabe reminded her.  “Tony, do you know what my daughter does?”  Mostly obscured by the table, Tony shook his head.  “She’s a psychologist.  She studies what people think.”  

“What am I thinking?” Tony asked Judy, who laughed.  He averted his eyes.  

“It doesn’t quite work like that,” she replied.  “It’s closer to learning why someone might think and feel what they’re thinking and feeling.”  

“Hi. I have your place setting, sir.” A young waitress placed a fourth placemat in front of Gabe, and turned with a firm booster cushion to Tony. “Little sir, would you like to see above the table?  I brought you a cushion that should help.”  Peggy helped her pull the chair out from the table and lifted Tony onto the tall cushion.  “That’s a little better, don’t you think?”  She then picked up each glass to fill with water from a pitcher she had left on the adjacent table.  “Can I get you all something to drink?”  

“Yes, I think we would all like mimosa,” Gabe replied.  “And O.J. for Tony, here.”  

“It’s still mimosa,” Peggy corrected him, lest Tony feel left out.  “It’s just mimosa without champagne.”  

“Three mimosa, one virgin mimosa.  I’ll let you look over the menu a little.”  She disappeared to another table.  

“I’m an inventor,” Tony announced, his little feet swinging under the table.  

“What sorts of things do you invent?” Judy asked him, taking her napkin and cutlery apart.

“Transistors,” he replied, matter-of-factly, as if that answer was everything there was to say, and self-explanatory as well.  

“Wow, I don’t think I could invent a transistor,” Judy replied.  

“I don’t think so, either.”  The little boy giggled, obviously very pleased with himself.  

Their waitress came back with a tray of drinks.  “Have you all decided on what you’d like?” she asked as she placed the drinks down one by one.  

“Tony, do you need help with the menu?”  Peggy asked him.  It looked too large in his little hands.  

“No, thanks.”  He began to read everything on the menu starting with the top.  

“I think we may need another minute,” Peggy asked of the waitress, and picked up her drink.  “May I propose a toast,” she prompted the others to raise their glasses.  Tony figured out what was going on and picked up his virgin mimosa with both hands.  “To a hard semester that is now over.”  

“Cheers,” Gabe agreed, and Judy looked flustered about the whole thing.  

“Thanks.” She and her father clinked glasses, Tony took a sip, then held his glass out to clink both of theirs, then to Peggy, who humored him.  

“I think,” she announced, looking over the menu again, “that I’m going to have crepes. Judy, what do you think?”  

“That sounds good.”  

“I meant for you, dear.”  

“Oh, I’m getting waffles.”  

“Do you get waffles at school?” her dad asked.  

“Yeah, they have a machine.  It’s self-serve.”  

“Pegg, remember the breakfasts in basic?”  

“Don’t,” Peggy protested, knowing it wouldn’t stop him.

“We would wake up before training,” he recounted, “and we’d take two pieces of toast just to soak up the grease.  Then we’d get bacon, eggs, fried in lard.  You don’t see lard anymore, but it soaked into the bread and you’d have to throw it out.  Then you’d grab fresh pieces of toast to eat, two glasses of milk—that’s all that would fit on the tray—and coffee.  Then once you sit down, you had to keep eating.  If you looked up, you were done.”  

“That sounds awful, Dad.”  

“You had to keep your energy, you just had to eat it or you’d get too tired, the way your mom drilled us.”  

“Da~ad.” She was too easily embarrassed by the way she and Gabe would tease each other.

“I was in an entirely different division, I did not put you through basic.”  

“No, but you made up for lost time after.”  

Peggy chuckled at that notion.  She never ceased to find it funny what a Howling Commando had to say about her.

“Mu~um.”

“Aunt Peggy?”  

“Yes, Tony?”  

“I’d like waffles, too.”  

“Would you like me to order for you?”  

“Yes, please, Aunt Peggy.”  

The next time the waitress came by, they all placed their orders, and she promised to come back with another virgin mimosa for Tony, since he’d finished the last one.  

“What are you planning for over the break?” Gabe asked, turning to Judy.  

It was evident ty the look she pulled that she had plenty.  “Well.  Sleep?”

“Because your mom and I were thinking about picking up a tree in a couple of days. Steven’s coming home tomorrow, and the Tripletts the day after.”  

“Um…” Judy seemed to be thinking hard about her social calendar.  “I have plans tonight.  And we’re going skating the day after with Christmas shopping.”  So Mr. Jarvis wasn’t the only one to have left his for the last minute.  “So maybe? It depends what time.”  

“We have a big tree,” Tony interjected.  

“How tall is it?” Peggy asked, knowing full well from having been to Howard’s Christmas parties in the past.  

“It’s as big as–” Tony paused to consider the size of the tree and how big he could describe it.  “It’s as big as this room.”

“As big as this room?” Gabe asked.  “That’s pretty big, don’t you think?  If it’s as big as a room, how’d you get it inside?”

At this, Tony again had to stop and think.  “It’s a bigger room,” he answered.

“What do you think about that, Judy?  Do you think we should get a Christmas tree as big as this room, too?”  

“Probably not.”  

“We have a bigger Christmas tree!” the little one announced with decided glee. “And Venetian–” his little mouth made it come out “Venessan”—“ornaments.”  

“Those are your mother’s, aren’t they?”  

“Yesss.” His look of glee only got bigger when the waitress placed a waffle in front of him, piled high with blueberries and strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate, and powdered sugar.  

She finished serving the rest, and asked if there was anything else they needed.

“What do you think, Tony?” Gabe asked.  “Is that enough waffle for you?”  Tony nodded with an amazed look on his face.  

“You’re going ice skating, that sounds fun,” Peggy prompted Judy.  “Who are you going with?”  

“Some friends from high school.  Mary, Lisa, Julie…”

“Have you heard from Mary lately?”  

“Yeah?”

“She’s engaged now.”  

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t met him, but her mother likes him a lot.  He’s a surgeon living out in Glenville, Long Island.”  

“I’m really happy for her.”  

“Have you met Frank?”  

“Not yet.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”  It wasn’t like Judy to be jealous.

“Not right now.  It’s a little hard to date at an all-women college.”  

“Oh, that’s not true.”  

“Mum?”

“Boston’s a big city; you can find someone.”  

“I don’t leave campus much.”  Judy shrugged and took a bite of waffle.

“Come on, Pegg, it’s her first day back,” Gabe interjected.  “Leave her alone.  You can see just studying’s worn her out,” he playfully jostling his daughter’s shoulder. “Tony, have you ever been ice skating?”

“I fell down a lot.”  Tony sounded disappointed in himself.

“You’ll get better as you practice.  How’s your waffle?  As good as you hoped?”  

“It’s good.”  And almost gone.  It was amazing what kids could demolish.

“Nice and warm for a winter day.”  

Mouth full of waffle, Tony just nodded in agreement.  

It wasn't long before the rest had caught up and were finishing off their meals and drinking the last of champagne and coffee.

“I think there’ll be time for a movie when we get back,” Peggy said, as they were all done and waiting on the check.  “I think I saw earlier that How the Grinch Stole Christmas would be on this afternoon.”  She had been looking for It’s a Wonderful Life when she came across it.

“Oh, I like The Grinch.” Gabe accepted the check from the waitress and counted his notes.  “Twelve thirty-seven.”  He dropped three pristine fives into the tray.

“We have Beta movies now.  We can watch them any time,” Tony shared as he slipped down from his extra tall chair. Peggy moved it back for him so he wouldn’t bump his head.  

“Well, that’s got to be fun to have.”  It sounded like the sort of new toy Howard would buy.  She pulled on her own coat, then helped Tony with his, though he insisted on zipping it himself. “Judy, do you have your hat?”  

“Yes, mom.”  Peggy pulled her gloves out of her pocket and put them on.  Without being told, Tony put on his own gloves and hat.  When they stepped outside, she asked Tony, “Do you want to escort Judy again?”  She’d never seen a child with so much curiosity and so little self-preservation instinct.  

Obediently, he put his hand out for Judy to hold.  

When they arrived back inside, the tv on and waiting for the movie to start, Peggy and Gabe stood in the kitchen, waiting for milk to steam for hot chocolate. “Darling?” she asked, getting his attention.  

“Pegg?”

“I think Tony has a little crush on Judy.”  

“You think so?”  He laughed. “You might be right.  He does seem to be fond of her.”

The milk heated up, the cocoa mixed.  The two brought the drinks out on a tray along with a plate of Christmas cookies and ribbon candy.  Judy and Tony were sharing the couch as the movie started, and by the end when Mr. Jarvis came to collect Tony, he was sugar rushed and sticky-handed.  

“Ms. Carter, he’ll be too excited for his nap now.”  

“Did you get his shopping done?” she asked under her breath so he wouldn’t hear.  

“Yes, but—“

“And I distracted him—Tony, do  you have your mittens on?”  He held up his hands to show that he, in fact, did.  “Well, Mr. Jarvis, I expect I’ll see you again beforehand, but if I don’t, have a happy Christmas.”  

“You, too, Ms. Carter.  Happy Christmas.  Tony, are you ready to go?”  He took Tony’s hand and led him in the direction of home.  Tony didn’t yet know how lucky he was to have Mr. Jarvis in his life to make sure that he, too, had a happy Christmas.  She hoped it would be a long time before he figured it out.  

[thefuturistknows]

Deliverance | Dec. 23, 2015

Dr. Su Yin was one of the trusted private physicians Stark had on call in the New York area, in case of Avengers-related emergencies. Pepper called her in, and Tony was in bed when she arrived. He had no snark or resistance to offer during the physical examination, and he let her draw a blood sample from him with no words of protest. He already knew Dr. Yin and he was feeling too unwell to do anything but comply – until she showed him a small plastic cup with a pill inside.

Tony looked at her with anxious inquiry in his eyes.

“This is chlorodiazepoxide,” she explained. “It will alleviate your anxiety, tremors, and other withdrawal symptoms so you can have some sleep.”

“I know what it does,” he whispered. It took a great deal of silent effort, but he managed to sit up so he could press his back against the headboard, to get as far away from the doctor as he was physically able to. “I could get addicted to that.”

“Not if you stick to the dosage and instructions I’m prescribing.”

He would have chuckled sardonically if he could.

“Oh, you don’t know me.”

“Yes, I do, Tony.”

She usually called him “Mr. Stark,” but this time she dropped formalities and emphasized his first name, as if to remind him of their long-standing doctor/patient history.

Tony shook his head.

“I can’t.”

His breathing was starting to grow shallow as he contemplated the possibility of adding another addiction to his plate – and hell, that might be the best case scenario, he wouldn’t put it past him to purposely overdose on the thing in this state –

“I can’t do it.”

“You’re about to have an anxiety attack as we speak,” Dr. Yin pointed out, reaching to touch his shoulder. “This will help you. It will be in your best interest to be well-rested when your treatment options are discussed.”

“I can’t know where you’re keeping them. You can’t tell me.”

“I will leave Ms. Potts in charge of keeping them safe.”

Tony hesitated, but eventually he nodded. He needed Dr. Yin to hold the cup of water for him.

He woke up at around 4:00 PM. Pepper found him struggling with the buttons of the dress shirt he was trying to close.

“What are you dressing up for?”

Stark looked briefly in her direction, she had come in with a cup filled with juice and a plate with something to eat. He didn’t pay attention to what it was before he turned to the full-body mirror again.

“Aunt Peggy’s funeral.”

Pepper didn’t say anything. He heard her placing the plate on top of the bedside table.

“Tony, you missed it,” she said softly. “And even if you hadn’t, you couldn’t have travelled to DC –”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

He knew he’d missed the funeral. He kept trying to button up his shirt anyway, but now his hands were even more unsteady because of self-consciousness and the reminder that his original plan for the day had all gone to waste.

Pepper eventually walked up to him, gently turned him to face her, and took over the task Tony had been struggling with.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked.

“You can’t be in an airplane now, Tony, or armor – especially not armor –”

“I’m the one who decides that –”

“Also, I didn’t even know you intended to go,” she said, eyes on his. “Does that explanation suit you?”

He’d never told her. Tony looked to the side. Pepper dropped her hands from his chest after she was done buttoning up the dress shirt he had no reason for wearing.

“I’m sorry,” Pepper said.

Tony closed his eyes. Then he shook his head and he quickly wiped a stray tear from his cheek and walked away from Pepper.

Aunt Peggy had been one out of various childhood relationships of his – like Jarvis and his wife, Elizabeth Ross, his cousin Morgan – that Tony had left behind and never, or almost never, willingly contacted again after his parents’ death. He had called it “moving on,” but really it was just because of how repulsed and scared he was of that first part of his life.

“She probably didn’t even remember me, anyway,” he said. He was in his closet, contemplating his tie options. He didn’t know what else to do. “In fact, I know she didn’t. I visited her early in 2010.” After he’d found out about the palladium poisoning. “She thought I was my father.”

Jarvis had already died by then. Jarvis had died while Tony was still –

He picked a black tie.

“I never went back after that, I was –” A coward. “She didn’t miss me. So, you know, there’s not…”

Tony swallowed. He was having trouble with the tie knot, of course.

“… much of a relationship there. There hadn’t been one for years.”

Another person whose last memory of Tony Stark was probably one of disappointment.

“But I should have been there,” he continued, more shakily now. “I should have been there for Steve.”

Pepper touched his shoulder, and he turned to her. He had expected her to finish his job with the tie, but what she did instead was to pull it off his neck and undo the top three buttons on his shirt.

“He came all this way for me. And I would be dead if he hadn’t,” he swallowed, now that his neck was free. “I wasn’t there for him.”

“No one’s keeping score, Tony. He understands.”

“I’m never there,” he shook his head. “Steve. Rhodey. Vision. You. I’m never there.”

Over four full years of a romantic relationship with Pepper, and he couldn’t remember a single time she had approached him about something personal. I’m scared. I’m alone. I don’t know what to do. Anything. He couldn’t remember.

And maybe Stark himself didn’t approach her, he didn’t approach Rhodey – but they reached for him. They always had.

He didn’t.

“And I would have helped, you know,” he continued after trying to breathe. “I hate to think of people going through things alone, it’s not that I think anyone else deserves it. I was just – so self-absorbed. I always am.”

“It’s not being self-absorbed, Tony. You were struggling. You still are.”

He closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“I’m not asking for comfort,” he said. “I’m not. I’m not even asking for forgiveness, I’m just making a promise.”

Pepper’s hands had been on his shoulders. She moved them up to entwine her fingers on the nape of his neck. He had a nape of the neck weakness.

“I’m never letting it happen again,” he continued. “It’s not ever going to be like this again, ever, ever again.”

He ended up in the front seat of Pepper’s car as she drove him to this luxury rehab place in East Hampton called “the Dunes,” so they could “take a look.”

“In the spirit of not running away from people,” Pepper started. She seemed invigorated that Tony was in the car with her at all. “When are you going to call Rhodey?”

Tony looked at Pepper. She raised an eyebrow, still focusing on the road.

“He’s been haranguing me, so…”

“Deflect and absorb, don’t transmit it back to me.”

It was supposed to be funny. Pepper just looked at him from the corner of her eye.

“Tony.”

“Right.”

“My phone is in my purse.”

Tony reached for Pepper’s purse on the backseat, and found her phone. He knew her access code. He also knew that JARVIS was the program that ran her phone, but the AI didn’t manifest in response to Tony’s fingerprint as it usually did.

“Be honest with me, because I need to be prepared,” he said, after swallowing the lump of something that had gathered in his throat. “How much do you think he hates me?”

The question seemed to break something in Pepper’s veneer. She looked exhausted again.

“God, Tony, he doesn’t hate you.”

He continued to look at Rhodey’s contact information on the phone screen.

“You’re frustrated.”

“I’m not frustrated, I’m just…” She sighed. “Is that why you haven’t called yet?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s dying to talk to you, I’ve been telling you that.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tony kept looking despondently at the phone without taking any action.

Silence settled in the car. Pepper was the one who broke it.

“The moment you saw me, you assumed I wanted to hit you,” she recalled. “Is it always like this, every time you do something that upsets people? You just think, ‘that’s it, it’s over’? Like you already know there’s going to be a tragic tipping point and it’s going to be your fault?”

“I’m chemically imbalanced right now.”

“You sure are, that’s probably why this is all coming up.”

Tony still didn’t look up.

“So, is it?” She insisted. “Is it always like this in your head?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

Something about his tone made Pepper’s questions stop coming.

Tony still didn’t call Rhodey. He stared into the screen until it went black.

“I do believe people like me. I think you do, I think Rhodey does.” He swallowed, finally looking up from the phone and into the road ahead of them. “I just can’t understand how, or why. I try to take it in without questioning it. It doesn’t always come easy to me.”

It didn’t ever, but sometimes he was able to. He used to be more able to. He unblocked Pepper’s phone again, and hit the call button on Rhodey’s number.

“I guess it feels suspiciously like having faith.”

Pepper started to say something, but Tony was able to avoid whatever it was by pointing to the phone by his ear and mouthing that it was ringing.

Rhodey had picked up before Tony could even drop his free hand.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to get back to me.”

Tony transferred his phone from his hand to his shoulder so he could pull up the long sleeves of his shirt. Shit.

“You’re mad at me.”

“I blacked out during a fight with a brainwashed ghost robot, woke up in a hospital to find you not there after pushing Pepper out and making headlines and quitting the Avengers – do you see how this looks from this end? I’m not just mad – ”

He was very mad.

“I’m sorry –”

“—I’m worried sick! How are you? Are you hurt?”

“What?”

“What did Steve say? I have to assume it helped.”

“You’re worried about me?”

Pepper gave him a look.

God, of course Rhodey was worried about him. When did he ever not worry? Tony squeezed his eyes shut to push past this whole elaborate assumption he had made that what would be at the forefront of Rhodey’s mind was how much he blamed Tony for Vision and for not being there when he woke up when Rhodey himself had tirelessly looked for him in the desert for three months –

“Of course I’m worried about you! I’ve been trying to squeeze information out of Pepper, but why trust spy organizations or code firewalls when you can have Pepper keeping your secrets –”

“I heard my name,” Pepper immediately chimed in. “He’s complaining about me, isn’t he?”

“At least I can be sure you’re doing something she approves of, she’d have told me otherwise, she’s got no regards for what you think when she hates what you’re doing. What are you doing?”

“I’m, uh…”

Getting sober. How on earth did one put this without sounding repulsive and weirdly sanctimonious at the same time? He’d have to make a joke of it.

“… I’m cleansing myself of my impurities.”

“What, as in, getting sober?”

“Sounds dirty and weirdly sanctimonious when you put it like that –”

“Wait, that’s really good.”

Tony smiled.

“I can’t believe Pepper didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh, there it is again,” Pepper said. “He’s complaining about me.”

“When will you be discharged?”

“Today.”

“Already?”

Silence.

“I’m working on that.”

“Tony, tell him to stop harassing his doctors –”

“—Pepper keeps saying I’m harassing the doctors, but obviously she has a very loose definition of what harassment means –”

“Hold on,” Tony connected the phone to the sound system of the car. “You’re on speaker, Jim.”

Pepper was the first to take advantage of the fact.

“Stay in bed until Saturday minimum, that’s what the doctor said.”

“I think it’s the same doctor who told you to relax?”

“I am perfectly relaxed, I did yoga this morning.”

Tony closed his eyes, tuned out the meaning of the words exchanged between Pepper and Rhodey, and just focused on their voices. It had the same effect as listening to rock music in the workshop, potent and alluring and he loved it. He could spend the rest of his life listening.

The property was isolated, and enclosed by white gates. Pepper gave her name, and the doors opened so she could drive in.

Tony was impressed by the size of the land. There was a lake and gardens and a field, he could see stables. Pepper pulled over by the main building, a large two-story house, surrounded by greenery. This admittedly looked way less like the daunting hospital-like structure Stark had been expecting, but he hesitated in the car anyway until Pepper prompted him to come out because people were waiting for them.

And indeed they were. Tony was given a tour of the facilities, which at a first glance, looked pretty idyllic. So much so, in fact, that he felt like he was inside a dystopian movie or something, he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It did when he was shown to one of the bedrooms in the medical unit. The bed was neatly made, but Tony could see how it could be fitted with restraints. He squeezed Pepper’s hand tightly.

Eventually, Tony was introduced to a Dr. Veronica Benning, a psychiatrist who was ready to see him for an initial assessment.

“I never scheduled anything.”

“He’ll be up in a minute,” Pepper said, turning him to look at her.

“Did you…”

“It will be okay.”

Pepper smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek. He didn’t smile back.

He hadn’t been the only one with secret plans for today, it seemed.

There were bars on the windows. Tony could see the shadows behind the curtains in Dr. Benning’s office.

He was nervous and sweating again. He dodged the first few of her questions with a (probably unhealthy) dose of snark, and using his reputation as a crutch for avoiding sincerity. You know who I am. Can’t you Google that? Pretty sure I answered that during a Vanity Fair interview once. And things like that. It used to work with the annual SHIELD psychiatric evaluations. But then again, especially after Hydra, it became abundantly clear that his mental health wasn’t actually a priority to them.

It was when Dr. Benning asked for how long Tony would say he’d been abusing alcohol that he stopped being able to make eye contact.

“Mr. Stark,” Dr. Benning said eventually, removing her glasses. “I think this experience will be more rewarding for both of us if we behave as though I don’t know who you are.”

Tony swallowed.

“And I don’t,” she continued. “But I would like to.”

He reached for one of the stress balls the doctor kept inside a basket on top of her table.

“Why not profit from this opportunity to share your side of the story?”

Tony stayed silent, turning the rubber ball in his hands. Well, not a ball. It was heart-shaped.

“What do you mean by abusing alcohol?” He eventually asked.

Dr. Benning slipped her glasses back on.

“Drinking patterns that have placed you in physically unsafe situations, that have hindered your work, study or other responsibilities, and that continued despite ongoing relationship and legal problems caused by it.”

Tony looked down again.

“I was… since I was…”

He closed his eyes.

“Fifteen.”

He kept his eyes closed, waiting to be severely admonished. His shoulders and neck were aching with tension.

Dr. Benning didn’t react, though. She just continued: “And for how long would you say you’ve been alcohol dependent?”

Tony opened his eyes, but still didn’t look up.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I – I got… consistent. After my parents died.”

“Which was when?”

“December of 1989.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I don’t think I was dependent – I mean, I didn’t feel – I always had something close at hand. And people usually didn’t think it was bad. Most people couldn’t tell I was drunk unless I’d had… a lot.”

Tony closed his eyes again. He could feel his cheeks burning up with shame.

“So when did you realize you have an addiction?”

(He noted she used the word ‘realize.’)

“May 2013. It was my relationship anniversary1. And my girlfriend’s – now ex-girlfriend.” He bit into his bottom lip for a moment. “I forgot about it. She was upset. She didn’t want anything to do with me. But I begged. I knew she would bend. And she did. We had sex. I don’t think she was into it.”

He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t drunk. I felt guilty. I said I was going to drink less. And then I didn’t. I didn’t know what else to do. About…”

He stopped.

“About what?”

“About my bad dreams. And when I can’t sleep at all. And the flashbacks. And…”

Tony tried to breathe the way Yinsen had taught him. He didn’t succeed. He was squeezing the stress ball.

“Next question,” Dr. Benning said.

Tony nodded eagerly. His eyes were still closed.

“How long since you’ve had your last drink?”

“It was this, uh… Tuesday.”

God.

One day. It had only been one day.

“I have been in touch with Dr. Yin. She reports you have been experiencing strong withdrawal symptoms.”

He nodded.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony hesitated.

“I don’t – I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Tony shook his head, finally opening his eyes again. He still wouldn’t look up.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not being helpful.”

“I wasn’t making an accusation, I was asking for confirmation,” the doctor specified. “You’re doing very well.”

Tony didn’t say anything.

“Do you think you can elaborate?”

He nodded, but it took him a few more seconds to speak:

“I was a P.O.W. For three months.” Closed his eyes again. “I remember writhing in bed, sure, but there was more going on than just – this2. And anyway, I could still work. If it happened, it wasn’t this bad.”

“Previous history with withdrawal could explain why your symptoms are so strong this time,” Dr. Benning pointed out.

Tony looked at her hands. She dropped the pen she had been taking notes with and picked up a file with his name on it.

“These are the results of your most recent blood test,” she said, opening the folder. “You have hypokalemia.”

“Potassium deficiency.”

“It can be caused by heavy drinking. Does this surprise you? Have you been keeping a balanced diet?”

Tony swallowed. He shook his head.

“Potassium deficiency can help account for weakness, fatigue, muscle cramps, exacerbated depressive states…”

He nodded. It’s weird how it never occurred to him that his dire physical and psychological states could be somewhat explained by factors other than his own shortcomings. Then again, he guessed that the “not eating healthy” thing was also his fault.

He noted that in her notes, Dr. Benning checked a box specifically corresponding to “hypokalemia.” She had checked a lot of boxes. She was looking for something specific, Stark wasn’t too sure he liked this.

“Besides PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and persistent depressive disorder,” Dr. Benning started, and Tony grew defensive at this indication that the doctor had been lying about not knowing him. She’d had access to his medical history. She’d just been trying to get him to trust her. “Have you experienced any other psychological conditions?”

“Drug-induced psychosis and fugue states3.” He actually lifted his chin to look at her, emphatic and defiant. “I’m a hot mess.”

Dr. Benning seemed unimpressed. All she did was ask what drug.

“Experimental.”

“Elaborate.”

“I’m an Avenger, I deal with weird things.”

She looked at him in silence for a few moments.

“There’s no record of that in your medical history,” Dr. Benning pointed out. A-ha. “Was this a self-diagnosis?”

“My AI diagnosed me. He has all pertinent data.”

“Can I have access to that?”

“Sure.”

Dr. Benning added a few words to her notes. Stark tried to tell himself that he had accomplished something with his defiance, besides giving the doctor exactly what she wanted.

“Mr. Stark,” she called for his attention again, dropping her pen and removing her glasses. “Taking your age and history into account, you are at a high risk of experiencing what we call delirium tremens.”

Delirium. That wasn’t good.

“DT is the most severe form of ethanol withdrawal. It typically manifests within 48 to 96 hours after the last drink, and is characterized by altered mental states and autonomic hyperactivity, which may progress to cardiovascular collapse if experienced without adequate medical care.”

At Tony’s request, she started listing the symptoms he should expect. Tremors, agitation, irritability, confusion, unstable mood, sensitivity, restlessness. Fear. Paranoia. Hallucinations. Seizures.

“Fortunately, our medical facilities and staff are more than prepared to receive you…”

He remembered the bed with the restraints.

“… I am confident that our residential program…”

There were bars on the windows.

“… outside contact will be limited during the initial weeks, but…”

For the first time since Monday, Tony made an effort to harness Extremis. He mapped out the floor plans, looked for all emergency exits.

“… you will be under the care of experienced professionals…”

There were bars on the windows.

Tony inhaled so sharply Dr. Benning stopped talking.

“Mr. Stark?”

“I need to have a word with Ms. Potts.”

Tony stood from the chair as soon as Pepper came in, and walked up to her as soon as she had closed the door and they were alone. He took both of her arms and peeped behind the thin curtain that covered the glass panel separating the office from the hallway to make sure there was nobody listening in.

He turned to Pepper when he could be sure there was nobody waiting to drug him outside.

“We have to do something,” he whispered to Pepper. “They’re not gonna let me leave.”

His eyes were already scanning the room for objects that could be used as improvised weapons, if necessary.

“Tony,” Pepper placed her hands carefully on Tony’s waist. “What did Dr. Benning say?”

“I’ll have some type of psychotic break,” he recalled. His breathing was shallow. “Paranoia, hallucinations. They’ll pump me full of drugs. They’ll chain me to one of the beds.”

Pepper looked alarmed.

“She said I’ll have to be locked up here for months –”

“Oh, God, Tony,” Pepper shook her head, smiling lightly. “It’s not like that at all. She probably recommended you their inpatient residential program.”

Tony pulled back slightly.

“That’s what she said.”

Pepper continued to smile. Tony swallowed thickly.

“They’d just have you live here for a little bit,” Pepper continued. “It’s not bad at all, you’ve seen the land. It’s beautiful. They’ll take care of you here.”

His eyes started filling up.

“Until you’re feeling better.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

“Tony?”

He shook his head, squeezing Pepper’s arms tighter.

“You’re going to leave me here4,” he mouthed. His voice wasn’t coming. “You were planning it all along, you’re going to leave me here.”

“I wasn’t planning it, Tony.”

“Please don’t leave me here, I’m so sorry –”

His breath started hitching in his throat. Pepper tried to show him to a chair again, but he stepped away from her, and then back to her. He took one of her hands pleadingly in both of his.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, don’t leave me here –”

“Tony, honey, calm down…”

“Don’t leave me, please!” He found his voice again. It was shaky. “I understand it now, I’m so sorry – I’m sorry, I’m sorry about the things I said –”

Don’t apologize. Make amends5.

“I’m so sorry! I’m gonna fix it –”

“Tony, sit down.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call Rhodey!” He was tearing up by the time Pepper finally got him to sit down on the chair from before. He didn’t let go of her hand. “I’m sorry I hurt him! I’m sorry I lied to you – I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Extremis, I’m sorry I didn’t give you the armor when you wanted it, I’m sorry I proposed and then un-proposed, I’m sorry I forgot our anniversary, I’m sorry I didn’t pass the test with the wonder twins and I’m sorry you were waiting at the table and I never came back for you at the balcony –”

Pepper had kneeled on the floor in front of him. He kept pressing her hand against his stomach.

“Tony, it’s okay –”

“You said you didn’t hate me, I trusted you –”

“I don’t hate you –”

“I trusted you!”

Tony let go of Pepper’s hand, and kicked back his chair when he stood up and stepped away from her.

“I trusted you! Don’t do this to me! Not you –” His back hit the wall. “I trusted my dad when he said I needed to go to a place that was going to fix me – I trusted my mom when she said it would be fine even when I knew she didn’t think it would – I trusted Obie but then –”

He broke. His back slid down against the wall and his face in his hands.

“She thinks maybe this happened already in Afghanistan – it was supposed to have fixed me, I was supposed to be fixed –”

Tony felt Pepper’s arms on his shoulders. He immediately leaned forward to hide his head in the crook of her neck.

“What did I do? I ruined – I’m so sorry – I’ll find a way, please, I’m sorry –”

At one point, he couldn’t say anything anymore. He only tried to control his sobbing again when he heard the door opening.

Pepper turned her head and assured the staff she had everything under control. It was a harsh awakening, Tony tried to rein it all in again. He was scared someone was going to try to drug him.

“Tony, remember what you said about the symptoms Dr.Yin and Dr. Benning said you might experience,” Pepper started eventually, massaging the nape of his neck. “Anxiety and paranoia are a couple of them.”

He pressed his forehead harder against Pepper’s shoulder. He was shivering.

“It wasn’t so bad, I promise. She was just recommending an option. There will be others,” she continued. “And Tony…”

She tried to get him to lift his head. He was too embarrassed to look at her at first, but she waited until he did.

“This is nothing like what your father and Stane did.”

Tony’s chin quivered again.

“I – But…”

There are bars on the windows.

“I know,” she nodded, even though he couldn’t say anything of substance. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I can forget, the whole world can.”

He pressed his forehead to her shoulder again.

“You don’t have that luxury,” she continued. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

When they were with Dr. Benning again, Tony chose to remain standing with his back against the farthest wall, arms folded tightly across his chest. Pepper was the one sitting across the table from the doctor.

She emphasized that the impatient residential program was her first choice for Tony, but she also discussed the intensive outpatient one as an alternative. After detoxification, he would be required to put in anywhere from 9 to 20 hours at a clinic per week for at least two months, but he would be able to live at home. This set up demanded exceptional motivation and commitment.

It was when Dr. Benning said she wouldn’t recommend this to patients who didn’t have a supportive family that Tony looked to the side and his chin started quivering again. Dr. Benning was the first to notice. She waited a moment before calling his name. Pepper looked as well.

“Tony?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t have that,” he admitted. He was talking about a family. “That’s not going to work for me either, nothing’s ever –”

“Yes, you do,” Pepper said, and this time he could feel a degree of outrage in her tone. “What do you think I am? What do you think I’m doing here?”

Tony just looked at her. Pepper turned to Dr. Benning.

“He does have a family,” she reassured her. “We all have jobs, but we can set up a good rotating schedule. That won’t be a problem.”

Tony shifted uneasily where he stood. He didn’t want to be a burden.

“Will you be staying in East Hampton, Mr. Stark?”

He hesitated. He thought about Pepper and Stark Industries.

“Is there a place in New York that you would recommend?”

“The Hazelden Betty Ford outpatient treatment facility is highly regarded.”

Tony didn’t say anything at first. He just nodded, then closed his eyes, and then frowned.

The initial plan had been not to tell anyone else.

Stark expressed the anxiety. He didn’t want people to know. And if he was going to this place in New York every week, then people were going to know.

“Mr. Stark,” Dr. Benning started. “I can’t recommend outpatient treatment to someone who’s not willing to fully commit to it.”

“It’s not like that,” he shook his head. “I’m willing to commit. I wasn’t talking about normal – I was talking about…” He hesitated. “People hiding in bushes. And stuff.”

He looked down. The rest of the world wasn’t playing the “Let’s pretend Tony Stark gets to have privacy” game.

Pepper was the one to point out that the residential approach would limit exposure. Nothing was going to be perfect, he would have to pick an option and deal with the consequences. He picked outpatient.

“They will want to perform their own assessments,” Dr. Benning said. “Given how advanced your withdrawal symptoms are, you will need to be admitted into a medical facility as soon as possible.”

“No,” Tony interjected.

“Tony.”

“I can’t go to New York like this,” he told Pepper. He would have pointed to himself to emphasize his terrible physical state, but case in point, he didn’t want to unfold his arms and reveal his trembling hands. “It’s one thing to deal with everyone when I’m stable, but I’m having a breakdown – every five minutes –”

Christ, he might have another one just to think about it. His eyes were filling up.

“And besides, I can’t… do –”

The sentence trailed off.

He didn’t want to be sedated, or drugged, he didn’t want people surrounding him and watching him, he didn’t want to wake up in some unknown place with wires all over him –

“Mr. Stark, DTs have an alarmingly high mortality rate if experienced without medical assistance.”

He tried to swallow.

“I know.”

His breathing started growing shallow again.

“Can this happen at home?” Pepper asked. “Could we set up a temporary medical station at the house? We can afford personal care.”

Dr. Benning recommended a team of private-care professionals that would suit their needs. Tony would be expected at the treatment center in New York during the first week of January, after his system was clean.

He had walked out of the place with a plan, sure, but he also felt unbearably like the spoiled rich brat Howard used to say he was. The first half of the ride home was silent, until Tony asked: “Did it sound reasonable to you?”

Pepper spared him a brief smile before looking at the road again.

“It sounded good to me. Why? I thought you’d liked it.”

He hesitated.

“To me, it sounded like I’m too…” Weak. “… complicated. For the conventional programs.”

Pepper didn’t say anything at first. Tony thought she might stay quiet for the rest of the trip until she clicked her tongue.

“To me it sounded like you have an opinion on what happens. And that you want to make sure you’re prepared to embrace the consequences. This isn’t bad.”

Tony didn’t look at her.

“Am I wrong?”

He shook his head.

After a few more minutes, Pepper chuckled.

“I’m also fairly sure of what’s the first thing you’re going to do about this, when you can –”

“Oh, my God,” he groaned, massaging his forehead. “God, I’m gonna inject so much money into tailored rehab programs for people who can’t afford to –”

“I thought so.”

“So much money, and when I’m back there people are gonna think – I’m gonna sound like this weirdly sanctimonious –”

He waved his free hand vaguely, looking for the right word, then he gave up and dropped his hand again.

“—And you know what?” He shook his head. “I don’t care.”

PAST DRABBLE REFERENCES

1. “May 2013. It was my relationship anniversary.” (Isolation | Tony & Pepper) 

2. “I remember writhing in bed, sure, but there was more going on than just – this.” (Flowers For a Ghost) 

3. “Drug-induced psychosis and fugue states.” (Writing Challenge: Halloween) 

4. “You’re going to leave me here.” Tony’s reaction to the idea that Pepper might leave him at the rehab facility echoes his reaction to his parents sending him to boarding school. (Isolation | Tony & Pepper, Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme)

5. “Don’t apologize. Make amends.” Tony first hears this from Howard the day he is leaving the house to go to school for the first time. (Isolation | Tony & Pepper)

[backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog]

Flights of Angels (Peggy) 20 December 2015

Peggy lay awake, comfortably in her bed with her eyes closed.  The monitor was humming quietly next to her.  She had been listening to Vivaldi not long ago.  Or then again maybe she hadn’t.  She listened for the needle skipping on the edge of the record, but didn’t didn’t hear the static.  Perhaps she hadn’t been.  That was just as well, because right now, she didn’t feel she had the strength to stand and stop the machine. 

The door opened and Peggy’s first thought was Colleen?  She wasn’t supposed to be back from the factory until morning.  She could have the chair, because try as she might, Peggy just couldn’t move..  Everything about her ached in the weariest of ways and she didn’t know why.  So tired; what on earth had she been doing?  It was the only thing she could really focus on, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember.

The nurse had her hand.  Of course it was the nurse.  Colleen was from a lifetime ago.  She felt a little pressure on her finger and remembered that she was being monitored.  She opened a bleary eye and closed it again.  Why was everything so much effort?  The nurse placed her hand back down on the bed, and Peggy ran her fingertips over the soft blanket.  She’d like to sleep now.  All night, and very soundly if she could.

For a moment, Peggy found she had trouble breathing.  She coughed weakly and gripped at the blanket.  The nurse moved around next to her.  Trying to figure out quite what she was doing was beyond Peggy right now.  She tried to block it out, just focus on taking another breath.  The nurse placed a mask over her face, and suddenly Peggy felt better.  A few more people came into the room.  They spoke with each other, but Peggy refused to listen to the noise, drowning it out with her own thoughts.

They could see she was tired; couldn’t they just let her sleep?  

If they wouldn’t stay quiet, Peggy would do the next best thing.  She slid into one of her time-worn memories.  Her wedding day.  It was one of the few that had lasted this long.  She’d been so young back then, so happy.  And Gabe had been so handsome.  Where was he now?  Peggy was sure she hadn’t seen him in a while.  He used to come and visit her--or had she visited him--but he seemed to have stopped. It was a long time ago now.

Their children had been a blessing.  They’d almost waited too long to have them, but they’d managed.  

She couldn’t hear the voices anymore.  There was some relief, at least. The road had been so long and the end was in sight.  

Who would be there, she wondered idly.  There were so many she’d lost along the way.  Was it finally time to see them again?  Gabe, her Mum and Dad, her brother. Friends, Sousa, Howard, Jarvis, Steve, Judy, Dugan.  She was the only one left and now it was her turn.  One by one, she tried to recall their faces.  Some were easier than others, and she hoped she could recall enough when the time came.  Slowly, their likenesses faded from her mind, and the world around her became a very calm, quiet place.  

[a-man-outof-time]

Christmas Ship Meme: Steve and Peggy

who starts putting up decorations in october?

Steve. It starts with a candle here, a garland there, until there is no mistaking that Christmas is around the corner. He loves the holidays, especially now that he can indulge in them a little.

who buys the advent calendars?

Also Steve. (I totally had to look these up, ahaha.)

who places mistletoes all around the house?

STEVE. He’ll put them in private corners and things, though; he’s not out to embarrass anybody~

who wraps the presents for other people?

Steve wraps, but Peggy more a fan of tossing things in gift bags and then tossing tissue paper on top.

who puts the final star/angel on the top of the christmas tree?

Peggy, by technicality; Steve would get an obnoxiously tall tree, and then he’d insist on picking her up so she could reach the top ;D

who’s the one that hates eggnog?

Peggy. She’d much rather a hot toddy of some kind, please and thanks.

who’s the one that bakes christmas cookies for guests?

Neither XD They’ll buy some, maybe, though Steve would rather have cinnamon rolls than cookies, and Peggy doesn’t care for sweets much at all.

who sends out the christmas cards?

Peggy, mostly because Steve lives with everyone he’d send a card to, haha. 

who knows all the words to twelve days of christmas?

Steve. Peggy gets 6-9 a little muddled, especially if a hot toddy has been had, but she’s getting there.

who’s the better snowman builder?

Debatable; Steve is physically capable of manhandling snow for longer and into more ridiculous constructions, but Peggy’s significantly more practice considering Steve was too sick for most of his life to play in the snow as a kid.

who starts snowball fights?

Peggy, which is the real reason why no one knows who’s the better snowman builder; Peggy usually gets bored and drops some snow down the back of Steve’s coat or something, and then it’s no-holds-barred from there.

who’s the one that wakes the other on christmas morning by playing christmas songs really loudly?

Steve, but not by playing music; he’d crawl on top of Peggy, wrap himself around her, and kind of hum-sing her awake~