Chapter Text
2016
“Shit.”
Natasha clicked at the tablet another moment, but what she saw wasn't changing, which wasn't good.
“Shit.”
“Nat?”
Things were still tense between the rest of the group and Natasha, she knew that, she understood why, but Steve had made sure they’d accept her, her actions in Leipzig Airport to help Steve and Barnes get away had helped some. Her also helping Steve and Barnes in the Raft break out had gone a long way too in smoothing things over a little.
She almost couldn't believe how it was only four days ago - was it really only days ago? - that Natasha had stood in Germany with Tony, preparing to take Steve and his buddies in.
Now she was on the other side, having helped them go on the run to Wakanda two days ago.
But still, the only ones who felt at ease enough to actually speak to her were Steve and Clint. We’re still friends, right? Depends how hard you hit me. Sam sometimes, when he wasn't wrapped up in his thoughts too much, or in helping Steve and Barnes adjust. Wanda stayed away. Lang did too.
Natasha looked up at the archer, languidly rolling a coin over his knuckles on the sofa opposite her in the empty living room. The apartments T'Challa had lent them were resplendent and decadent and made Natasha ache for another wealthy place. For another home. For another billionaire-
“What, did you get stuck on Candy Crush?” Clint joked, but his gaze was focused.
“Go get Steve.”
Clint straightened from his lounged sprawl in an instant, all coiled strength and grace, the coin vanishing between his fingers. “What’s up?”
Natasha huffed, “When we were leaving the Raft, when I took out the security, I left something behind in the system.”
Clint moved to join her on her sofa, eyes still trained on Natasha and not the table, not just yet. “What for?”
“Honestly? Blackmail,” Natasha shrugged, unashamed. “What Ross did was not part of the Accords- no, we are not doing this again, Clint, I don't want to fight your stupid idea that Tony put you there because he didn't - and that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is, I thought it would be a good idea to have something to use against Ross in the future. If we were ever to reform the Avengers.”
Clint scoffed, throwing himself back on the sofa with his arms crossed and a stubborn look on his face.
“It’ll happen, Clint. The world will need us. But I don't want Ross a part of that. And even if you don't trust Tony to keep an eye on Ross, I do, I know he will. He’s a paranoid bastard. But there are places that Tony can’t access remotely, so I left a bug for me to keep an eye out.”
“You’re digging up dirt on Ross from the Raft? The man’s hardly going to be there when there aren’t any-”
“When there aren’t any prisoners, I know…”
Clint shot up again, wide-eyed. His eyes darted hesitantly to the tablet in Natasha’s hands, but he couldn't see the frame clearly. He wasn't sure he wanted to. “Oh, shit, does he have prisoners again?”
Natasha sighed. “Go get Steve.”
“Show me, Nat.” Shaking her head, Natasha tilted the screen enough for Clint to see. “Oh. Oh, shit. Yeah, that’s bad. I’m- I’ll go get everyone.”
Clint scrambled out of his seat and out of the room.
Natasha felt anxious as she looked back at the tablet in her hands.
The image of Agent 13 sitting in a cell stared back at her.
She hoped Steve wouldn't lose objectivity about this, but history showed that was unlikely. Letting him and Barnes go in Germany didn't mean Natasha agreed with Steve and his actions, but that didn't mean Natasha wasn't also regretful about rushed decisions she’d made based on emotions.
Everyone had been compromised in this whole… battle.
They didn't need another cock up right now. The team was already in shambles. Natasha didn't need Steve getting overly impulsive again about trying to protect Agent 13.
It wouldn't be until later that Natasha would realise the one she should have really worried about acting impulsive in this situation was someone else entirely.
1978
Tony was nervous. More nervous than even the people and cameras from two months ago when everyone had wanted to know all about that circuit board Tony had built. It wasn't anything special, Dad had said so, called it rude-i-men-tary, which Jarvis had explained basically meant stupid (not quite his words). Tony didn’t get why there was a big fuss then.
But today he was nervous.
Michael was trying to distract him with the model plane sets they were building together. Mary had called him silly and left Tony to go read, but she’d said it with a laugh and sat close by with her book, so Tony didn't think she really meant it. Ana said Mary was at the age where she was trying to be a ‘young lady’ and not a little girl, though how that meant Mary couldn't build things with Tony anymore, he just didn't understand. Ana said Mary would figure that out soon too.
Tony couldn't bring himself to face the doorway which would welcome his doom.
He startled when a hand waved in front of him, and blinked up at Michael’s face. The knowing smile on his face had Tony ducking his head shyly. Not that Michael let that go. He had Tony giggling as Michael pulled him across the soft carpet by his ankles, dragging Tony on his behind to sit in front of his model plane, much simpler than Tony’s own customised design.
“C’mon, Tony, help me,” Michael laughed. “Can’t have my Chief Engineer slacking on the job!”
Michael wanted to be a pilot, like Luke Skywalker. Tony liked Princess Leia better, and Mary had picked Han as her favourite when Michael had described the film to them. Tony couldn't wait until he was old enough to watch the film himself.
So this was all practice, Michael said, to become a pilot, and Tony was always eager to help. Whether it was acting as his Chief Engineer, or drawing constellation pictures to stick on the walls for Michael to learn, or even as a pretend airplane for Michael to carry over his head around the house (that was his favourite way to help, Tony liked pretending to fly). By now, Michael had a veritable squadron of model planes hanging from the ceiling in his room. About a third were made by Tony.
With similar dark hair and eyes, sometimes he liked to pretend Michael was his big brother.
Tony really loved Michael.
And Michael really loved his cousin, who was coming to live in America now, and Tony really, really needed his cousin to like Tony, otherwise, he might not get to play with Michael. He was already older, sixteen and infinitely too cool to spend time with Tony. He’d probably prefer hanging out with his cousin that was sixteen too, and- and-
… and Tony would lose Michael.
“I can make the wings better?” Tony offered.
He was rewarded with a grin, and delved into a haze of engineering under Michael’s happy face. Tony didn't want to lose Michael.
Tony was humming with the radio, only jolted out of his haze when a pair of hands wrapped around his waist and lifted him high into the air. Tony shouted in surprise, Michael and Mary laughing behind him. He was spun round to see an unfamiliar face, with blond hair that fell into familiar brown eyes.
“You must be Tony, my new baby cousin!”
“I’m- I'm not-” Tony’s face felt hot as he stumbled over his words, but the older boy holding him only shrugged.
“You’re Aunt Peg’s godbaby, you’re as good as family,” he insisted.
Tony flailed, not sure how to respond to the sudden swell of warmth that felt much too big for his little body. He wanted to hide his face and also grin as big as the sun.
“Harrison Francis Carter, you better not be terrorising the others already!” Aunt Peggy’s voice sounded loudly from the front of the house. “And you’ve left all your bags- Daniel, for goodness sake! You're in no state carrying all this alone, get back here!”
The older boy chose to ignore the shouting, more focused on hugging Michael and Mary without letting Tony go. “She only calls me that when she’s annoyed. Everyone calls me Hal.”
“Give him back,” Michael said, tugging Tony gently by the arm. “That’s my Chief Engineer. You can have Mary.”
Mary snickered away, still hugging her cousin, as Hal let Tony go with a pout. “No fair. You’ve had him four whole years already!”
Michael shrugged, a smug look on his face as he held Tony close. “Then you’ll have to share. I'm not giving Tony up.”
There was a muted clatter from the front of the house, and Aunt Peggy was telling off Uncle Danny in the distance, and Mary was giggling, and Hal and Michael were arguing over Tony with smiles on their faces, and Tony realised something.
Maybe… maybe he wouldn't have to lose Michael after all.
2016
Sharon had gone over every crevice of her cell.
Three times.
There wasn't much to it; one cot, with a single pillow and scratchy blanket; a corner divider for the toilet and sink; one drawer for a few personal items; one pointless stool; and one pitifully empty shelf. Her clothes had also been taken when she'd been unconscious, replaced with plain blue scrubs.
And there was absolutely no way Sharon could reach the camera spying on her. It was on the other side of the bulletproof reinforced glass on one side of her cell, pointed into her room to leave no blind spots. Not even the goddamn toilet was private.
It wasn't built to house supervillians for nothing.
A bit of an overkill, in Sharon’s opinion, even for former Agent 13 herself. She expected it was meant as a statement by Ross, though against who and for what, she was still figuring out herself.
Was she to be bait to lure Captain America out of hiding?
Sharon wasn't sure that would work.
Not that Steve wouldn't maybe attempt to break her out, but more that the security in the prison was insane. She’d been informed - warned - repeatedly that there would be no second break out from the Raft. And Sharon didn't think Steve breaking her out would be of benefit to anyone, other than her.
She’d be a fugitive. She’d be on the run. She’d be with Steve, and honestly, she- she didn't want that. Sharon didn't want that because… because she couldn't agree with Steve and his actions.
Oh, sure, she’d given back his toys. That was the main reason she was in this place. And yeah, she’d kissed the guy, but first of all he was Captain America, anyone would have, and secondly, it had been a goodbye. It was a goodbye because Sharon couldn't and wouldn't follow him, but she was incapable of leaving him defenceless.
He’d soon reminded her just how much damage he could do though, and the guilt and regret sat heavy in Sharon’s gut.
Was she being made an example of?
But Sharon wasn't an active superhero, the Accords didn't apply to her. Not really. Not in the capacity to be taken into custody, especially as she hadn't signed the documents.
Having her imprisoned was probably more damning to the Accords than beneficial. If the public found out, what would they think about the poor handling of the Accords? Ross would be out of his job (if not imprisoned himself), the Accords would lose all credibility, and the public, the world, would never trust any of them. The Avengers, or those supposed to keep an eye on them.
Was she some sort of leverage?
Over her brief but very active career as an agent in SHIELD and then the CIA, Sharon had made a lot of allies, formed numerous valuable contacts, and become a highly competent asset herself. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that some higher-up had plans for her, dug up some dirt or a weak point to pressure Sharon into doing their bidding.
They would be in for a nasty surprise if they tried. Sharon had worked very hard to keep any weak spots carefully hidden and protected, and her record was squeaky clean.
Leverage of some sort seemed the most likely reasoning for her imprisonment here in the Raft specifically. Stealing the shield and Falcon pack, Sharon had made peace with the idea that if anyone found out, if anyone even suspected her, her career would be over and she’d possibly face some time served in prison. Sharon had accepted that. She’d prepared for that.
This.
This she had not quite prepared for.
She was never going to underestimate the ego of Thunderbolt Ross again.
Now the question was leverage against whom? There were only a small handful of people Sharon could think of that Ross could get a hold of to use against Sharon, and an even smaller number that Sharon would do almost anything for. Most were heavily protected, but still…
Sharon sat on her cot, stretching her legs out on the nonsensical stool provided in her cell. She kept her face carefully neutral, very aware of the camera aimed at her cell and the guards outside, but inside Sharon was starting to actually worry. She ran over the possibilities on who Ross could have taken-
A loud klaxon sounded, half-deafening Sharon. Outside her cell, a heavy lock door slid open. She got to her feet, ready to face Ross and demand explanations, and generally make a nuisance of herself until he gave her the answers she wanted.
But it wasn't Ross that stepped out. It wasn't Ross on the other side of the glass.
“Secretary Rusk?”
1974
Babies were more wriggly than Michael had thought. Or maybe he hadn't spent enough time around them to be sure. He’d only been four when Mary had been born, he barely remembered her as a baby and not as a whiny little girl who followed him absolutely everywhere.
Now though he was almost a teenager, he would remember this a lot clearer. There was a baby, and he would remember how wriggly and drool-y and tiny they were from now on.
All the adults were practically fawning over the thing, Michael didn't see the big deal. It didn't even do anything much yet at two months, too little still to walk or anything interesting. His Mom had been raving about the baby at home over dinner. Enough that Michael had maybe sorta looked forward to finally meeting it on vacation away from DC during his summer holiday.
The reality of meeting was disappointing.
It was sort of ridiculous actually. A minute ago the baby spat up on his Mom, and Mr Jarvis made a huge fuss about cleaning it, but his Mom was too busy cooing to listen. Mrs Jarvis had gotten Mom a clean shirt to wear, but his Mom seemed more reluctant to let his Dad hold the baby than worried about her dirty silk blouse. That was hardly fair. When Michael made a little mess in the kitchen when making snacks, he got told off, not cooed at.
And now Dad wasn't giving the baby back.
“Daniel, I won’t ask again,” Mom even had her hands on her hips, foot tapping away.
“Good, then I won’t have to say no. Again,” Dad said calmly, not even looking up.
Mom huffed, but didn't try and physically take the baby away - again, jesus that baby could wail when it got upset - and hoard it. Again. Mary scoffed and gazed at the baby over Dad’s shoulder.
“Can we go to the zoo in Central Park? There’s a new baby gorilla,” Michael asked. Mom shot him a disappointed look, but Michael was bored. “Mr Jarvis said the baby might to have a nap soon anyway!”
“Then we should make the most of the time he’s awake,” Mom said.
Michael huffed, slumping on the overstuffed couch, but his Dad caught his attention with a “Why don't you hold him?”
“What?”
“You haven’t held him yet. Even your sister’s had a go,” Dad pointed out. “Don’t you want to hold your godbrother?”
Michael could only gape as his Dad approached, holding out his arms with the baby. Mom hovered at his elbow, Mary over his shoulder, and Mr Jarvis seemed to be hovering everywhere, but for the moment Michael could only focus on the baby.
The baby was warm and surprisingly heavy in his lap.
He was also staring up at him.
Before Michael could start panicking at those shiny eyes, his Mom settled next to him. “Tony! Tony, look, this is Michael. This is your big godbrother. Tony, look!”
A hand clapped Michael on the shoulder, and he looked up at his Dad's proud face. “Do you remember what we said when Mary came?” Michael nodded. “Applies here too.”
For the first time since arriving at the mansion, Michael felt like the baby was as special as everyone said. Looking down into those big eyes on that squishy face, Michael felt a fondness stir-
“I want a go!” Mary demanded, interrupting the moment.
“No,” Michael replied automatically, scowling over his shoulder. “You had a turn. And he’s a baby, not a toy!”
“You didn't even like him before,” Mary cried, pulling a truly horrendous face at him.
A high-pitched giggle pealed in the room.
Mr Jarvis gasped, gazing with adoration at baby Tony. “Miss Sousa, I do believe you've managed to pull Master Tony’s first laugh out of him!”
Mary gaped between the butler and the baby for a minute, before sliding an impossibly superior look at her brother. “He likes me better. Give.”
“No way.”
“I make him laugh!”
“I can too.”
“Prove it!”
Michael glared at his sister but didn't back down. Looking at baby Tony again, he pulled a silly face, like Mary had.
Tony smacked a sticky hand to his chin and burbled a few vowels, and Mary fell over laughing at her brother’s failure.
This wasn't over.
“Mom, can we take a baby to the zoo?”
2016
Sharon stared back at the Secretary of Defence as he made his way towards her cell. He was unhurried moving across the antechamber, hopping up the stairs. The guards circled once before leaving, and then it was only the glass between Sharon and Secretary Rusk.
“Not expecting me, Agent?”
“Not certain I deserve such an honour,” Sharon said, watching him carefully. “Should I expect the Attorney General to offer me a lawyer? Is the President going to serve me dinner?”
Rusk smiled.
“I thought Ross in charge of my confinement.”
“Oh, he is. Officially, he is. But…” Rusk leaned closer to the glass. “Between you and me? He’s not really on top of anything.”
Sharon looked back at him, trying to understand his angle. Why was he here?
“I have good news for you.”
“Am I to be released?” Sharon asked, not expecting much.
Rusk laughed, a hoarse sound that shot chills down Sharon’s neck.
“You have no right keeping me here.”
“Perhaps, but you aren’t getting out any time soon,” Rusk said, standing loosely in parade rest. “The good news is, you won’t be here alone much longer. I have a little company for you.”
“And the bad news? There’s always bad news.”
“You know him,” Rusk said.
Sharon’s heart started to race as her mind tried to come up with possibilities on who Rusk had. She couldn't let Rusk see how affected she was, but she was panicking, Sharon could admit that. God, who did he have?! Steve? Fury? Or…
Deliberately relaxing her shoulders, Sharon rested a hand on one hip and painted her most unconcerned expression on her face as she looked back at Rusk. Bastard only seemed amused at whatever he saw.
Sharon didn't know how long it had been since she’d been taken. Depending on how long, an alert about her absence might have gone out by now. Missing CIA agent privy to highly sensitive information? Yeah, the US government was going to be invested in her return.
If they knew she was missing.
But if Rusk was here, and Ross being Ross, they had enough political clout to hush up her disappearance. Which wasn't a good thing, as Sharon hadn't been alone when she’d been taken.
She’d just finished meeting Cameron Klein, who’d reached out about some information he’d dug up on Ross, information he thought would help take him off the Accords committee. She’d slipped the flash drive into a pocket as she was leaving the cafe when a white utility van had pulled up. The door had slid open, and Sharon had stared down the barrel of a gun a second before she’d felt a pinch in her shoulder. Dart gun. Fast tranqs. Whoever was inside the vehicle had bundled her inside, and the last thing she saw before darkness had overtaken her had been Cameron’s horrified face in the doorway to the cafe.
She hoped he’d run.
If these people knew or thought that Cameron was associated with her, Sharon didn't know what they'd do to him. And he wasn't a trained agent.
But maybe he had run and raised an alert. There were a few people who would definitely answer an alert up for her.
Unless Rusk was going to drag them, one of them, in here right now.
Dread weighed heavily in Sharon as she watched Rusk turn to the heavy lock door. A pair of prison guards stepped inside, dragging someone between them. That wasn't good. Sharon couldn't get a good look at whoever they were bringing in, but they had a dark head of hair. So, not Steve.
Sharon was surprised when the bars and glass between her and Rusk started to lift away, but she hadn't even twitched forward before there were guns aimed at her and more guards flooding the antechamber.
The new prisoner was dragged into her cell and dumped on her cot.
They must have stepped back, and the glass and bars must have fallen into place again, but Sharon didn't notice any of that, because she couldn't tear her horrified gaze away from the battered face of her new cellmate.
2008
Tony didn't ever think he’d want to let go of Rhodey - amazing, stubborn, impossible, he’s here, you're not dreaming, he’s here here here - since the man had dropped from the chopper and landed in front of him in the sand, like an avenging desert angel to lift him up and take him away from here. And he was here to take him away. To take him back, to home, to safety.
And then Tony stepped into the chopper and spotted another familiar face.
There might have been tears. Not all from Tony either.
He didn't even care that other people were here, were watching, Michael was here.
Tony didn't know who grabbed who first, but he found himself curled in Michael’s lap with Rhodey’s arm around his back as the helicopter lifted off, determinedly ignoring the medics trying to pry him away. Like hell he was leaving this cuddle group any time soon.
Michael was gripping him painfully tight, but Tony didn't care. Not about the sunburns on his shoulders, the aching in his bones, or the constant pain in his chest that was becoming a more familiar feeling every day. Right now, in this moment, nothing could hurt him.
“Tony, oh my god, Tony,” Michael rasped, throat tight and face wet. “Mom’s gonna kill you.”
“She noticed?”
“Of course she noticed!”
Tony nodded, wiping his nose against Michael’s shoulder. He managed a weak smile, “You came.”
“Of course I came,” Michael sobbed, pulling Tony closer, holding onto him like a drowning man- don't think of that, don't think of the water- “Rhodes and I have been looking everywhere. Almost court-martialled for all the time we've spent searching for you, like I give a damn. When we picked up that explosion, we knew it was you. I flew the goddamn helo here. I’ll always come for you.”
Tony was almost certain it wasn't the reactor that was making his heart feel too big at that moment, so he knew he had to diffuse the moment. He was not up to the amount of feelings Michael was sharing right now.
“Kinky.”
Rhodey groaned dramatically while Michael roared with laughter, pressing kisses to Tony’s forehead even though he was sweaty and bloody and sandy.
“Man, why do you always have to make things weird?”
“It’s a gift,” Tony shrugged.
He was tired, so tired, now that he was safe. Exhausted beyond just his body. The loss of Yinsen a raw and bitter wound still fresh. Michael noticed, he always noticed on Tony, and nodded his head to the medics. Rhodey backed away to make room, but Tony held onto one sleeve with a whine.
“Shh, Tones, I'm right here,” Rhodey said, twisting to grip his hand tightly.
“It’s ok, Tony, we won’t let anything happen,” Michael promised him, keeping Tony’s head in his lap as the medics gently pulled him to lie flat on the floor. The rumble of the engines was soothing, Tony’s eyelids grew heavy. “It’s okay to sleep. I’ve got you.”
“Reactor,” Tony mumbled sleepily, tapping at his chest with a glass clink. “Don’t let’m touch it. Need it. For m’heart, s’important.”
“Okay,” Rhodey laid a hand over Tony’s, covering the reactor. “We won’t let them mess with it.”
Michael bent over to press his forehead to Tony’s, eyes screwed tight with tears, “God, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we took so long, Tony.”
It took all Tony’s energy, but he pulled his hand off the reactor to pat Michael on the cheek, “You found me.”
“Yeah,” Michael nodded, curling a hand around Tony’s. Both his hands were being held. Tony couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hand right now. “Yeah, we found you.”
At last, since stepping out of his broken suit and out into the open sand, Tony closed his eyes and let sleep take him away, cradled between the two airmen with rough hands holding his tightly and tears in all of their eyes.
“I wanna… cheeseburger…” he mumbled as he drifted away.
Michael snorted. “Sure, Tony. I know someone who can’t wait to go for burgers with you again.”
2016
“Tony!”
Sharon’s hands hovered over the cot, unsure where to touch without hurting Tony. He was stripped except for his slacks and roughly dressed in bandages, rolls of it wrapping around his chest. One side of his face was bruised and littered with inflamed cuts, and Tony’s left hand was a mess. Sharon could see spots of red dotting the basic bandages, and the wounds that had been left uncovered were dripping blood onto her cot.
He was also unconscious.
Hunched over him, Sharon shot a fierce glare at Rusk. “What did you do to him?!”
“I admit, his hand was our doing. Mr Stark was quite reluctant to cooperate with us. Very stubborn man, we might try again later. But the rest? Agent Carter, that was the handiwork of Captain Rogers and the Winter Soldier.”
Sharon’s heart froze.
She’d never expected Steve to just go quietly against the Accords, but she’d never thought that he’d go this far against a teammate. Against Tony. He wouldn’t have. Would he?
“You’re lying.”
“Ask him yourself, if he wakes.” Rusk sniffed and looked at his watch. “If Mr Stark is to remain alive, it’s up to you. I have a meeting to get to-”
“You can’t just leave him like this!” Sharon snarled. “He needs- he needs a doctor! A hospital! He shouldn't be in a goddamn prison cell in this condition!”
“Agent Carter, you sound like you care about Mr Stark,” Rusk smirked. “What does it matter to you if Mr Stark lives? I thought your actions spoke of your support of Captain Rogers. Was I wrong?”
Sharon bit her lip to hold back her words. Words she wanted to use to spear Rusk through the skull.
Rusk stepped closer to the glass, beady eyes darting between Sharon and Tony. “Just who is Mr Stark to you?”
1995
“Tony!”
A grin split the genius’ face as a little blonde bullet shot straight for him. He opened his arms and braced for impact, falling back onto the sofa with an oomph.
“There’s my favourite girl,” he said, swinging the little girl up into a bear hug that she fiercely returned.
Sharon giggled against Tony’s neck in warm, ticklish puffs of air. When he pressed his nose to her hair, she smelled of bubblegum shampoo, and Tony felt all the stress of another tough work week fall away. He just held her for a while, eyes closed, enjoying how warm Sharon was against his front for a little longer. It had probably been a little too long since he’d slept properly.
Opening his eyes, he spotted Michael. His body was a relaxed slump against the doorframe, but the look on his face was all concern. Tony barely stopped himself rolling his eyes.
Setting Sharon down again, Tony took her hand and made his way to Michael, leaving the stack of paperwork on the coffee table behind him. “Hey Mickey Mouse, what are you guys doing here? I didn't think you were on leave until next week.”
“Are you busy, Tony?” Sharon asked, pout on her face. And Tony was weak against that face.
“Never too busy for you, pudding pop,” he assured her with a kiss on her head.
Sharon looked pleased, and Michael looked amused.
“But seriously, did I miss something?” A panicked thought crossed Tony’s mind, and he felt the blood leave his face in fear. “It’s not- Is it Aunt Peggy’s birthday? I swear I haven't forgotten again!”
“No, Tony, you haven’t missed Mom’s birthday.” Michael grinned as Tony almost doubled over with relief, Sharon patting his back in mockingly. “Rhodes called. Said he was worried about you.”
Tony let out a long, loud groan so large he was surprised he didn't deflate entirely.
“It’s nothing!” Tony insisted. “Honey bear is just getting worried over nothing.”
“Rhodes doesn't get worried over nothing, and if he spotted something to worry about over the phone while overseas, then something’s up.” Michael looked up and down at him. “I know it’s difficult to see each other easily nowadays, but you can call any of us. We’re here for you. I know I'm gone a lot of the time-”
“No, I know. But there’s nothing to call about. It’s just Obie having a tantrum about this year’s quarter from my new robotics department.” Tony waved a hand at the frown on Michael’s face. “Oh, don't make that face. I know you don't like him, but Obie’s just trying to make sure I'm keeping the company up to the old man’s standard.”
“It’s your company now, Tony,” Michael said gently. “You’re allowed to change the direction of Stark Industries. No matter what Stane says.”
“Weapons are the big money-maker though. And I’ve got a lot of people depending on the company to make a living. He doesn't think robotics is going to be very profitable.”
“Stane doesn't know everything. Your inventions are amazing, Tony. All of them.”
Tony just shrugged, focusing on gathering Sharon in his arms and tickling her. “You didn't answer me before. What are you guys doing here?”
“I figured you were probably due a break soon, and seeing as I was babysitting Shar today, I thought you could use a break with us,” Michael said with a smile.
“Did you miss me, Tony? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Tony booped Sharon on the nose. “I always miss you. I've just been busy, I'm sorry.”
“Making robots?”
“Making robots.”
“We’ve got the whole gang together,” Michael cut in.
Tony’s eyebrows shot up, “The whole gang? Not for little old me, surely?”
“Nah, though we do miss your ugly mug.” Michael barked a laugh as Tony swung a punch at his shoulder. “No, no, come on. Really, we’ve got news to celebrate.”
“What news?”
Sharon jumped with a cheer, “Mary’s engaged!”
Tony gaped.
“To Dick?!”
“Oh, my god, Tony!”
2016
Sharon didn't know what Rusk knew, how much he knew, how much he knew from Tony. He’d tortured Tony, he’d readily admitted as much. He’d also said Tony hadn't cooperated. So Sharon was flying blind here and she knew that Rusk could tell.
That smug look on his face said it all.
Rusk grinned, a smile that was all teeth. “I think I know who he is to you.”
He paced in front of the glass, back and forth, slow deliberate steps. Sharon didn't take her eyes off of him, but kept an ear out for the faint breaths from the cot.
“On the advice of Mr Zemo, I flew to England. He desired a trigger to compromise Captain Rogers.”
Dread welled up in Sharon.
“Before I did anything, I took the opportunity to have an informative chat with the formidable Peggy Carter. Talked about the good old days. She was very happy to tell all about her happy days with her darling godson, so close to all her family.” There was triumph in Rusk’s eyes as he spoke to her. “A mutual love, I'm told.”
“You son of a bitch,” Sharon hissed. “She was a vulnerable person!-”
“Yes, but she wasn't lying, was she?”
“You had no right-”
“Of course, when a lucid moment arose and she noticed that I was not her doctor, Miss Carter became quite distressed,” Rusk shrugged, nonchalant to the face of Sharon’s mounting horror. “I had to deal with her. She would have exposed our carefully laid plans far too soon.”
“You- you killed Aunt Peggy.”
“She fought back, but quickly she forgot why she was fighting me. It was simple enough to slip her something to help her along in her sleep.”
Sharon screamed as she threw herself against the glass, bashing her fists against the glass, but it did nothing. The glass held, it didn't even fracture. She only left bloody smears from her knuckles on the glass.
Rusk was laughing.
“Did you hear what he said?” Sharon shrieked, looking at the guards behind Rusk. “How can you just stand there?! This man is a murderer!”
“These men are loyal to me, Agent Carter. They aren’t going to turn me over to anyone.”
“You’re sick. You're sick, you can’t just-”
“It took a while for Miss Carter to spot the deception, but then again…” Sharon watched Rusk scratch at his neck. “I’ve always had a way with masks.”
Sharon could only stare and gape, as Rusk’s hand came away from his neck, fingers still pinching the skin, as he peeled off his face.
And what lay under it was so much worse.
“Skull,” Sharon gasped. “You’re Red Skull!”
It was like looking at something out of a nightmare, as a bone white grin cracked across that red demonic face.
1962
Peggy knew from the moment that precious bundle had been placed in her arms, her life would be changed in ways she had never expected. Her heart was a stout old thing, getting older as Peggy herself was, steadily more battered, worn and weary. Peggy hesitated in giving any more of herself away, especially with how intimate she was with the dangers in the world so close. Too close. This was always going to be a risk, and not just from her age.
But one look into that face, the snub nose, pouting lips and fat cheeks, and Peggy handed her heart away without another thought. Fully and completely. Even the parts of it that Peggy had fiercely guarded and never dared show to anyone, not her parents, not her brothers, not her friends, not even the people she’d fallen for.
Glancing away for only a second, Peggy saw her husband’s shining eyes and matching grin and thought, he’s probably just done the same thing. Daniel had probably just given all of himself away too, including the parts he’d kept from Peggy. Should there be envy? Resentment? Jealousy?
Locking eyes, they were in complete and instant agreement.
There was none of that felt by either of them. Only approval. A sense of, yes, right, of course they should feel like this, nothing less than the whole of ourselves is enough for this little darling gift, if we could offer more we would, blessed, we’re so blessed.
It was the scariest feeling Peggy had ever felt, but oh, she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not for a moment.
She lightly traced one of those fat squishy cheeks, stretching her neck to press a kiss to the downy wisps on top that elicited a delightful little mewl that shot sunlight into her heart, and made Peggy want to laugh loud enough for all the world to hear, and to never ever ever have to let go.
Daniel shifted to cradle Peggy and her precious cargo both in his arms, sitting behind her to look over her shoulder and marvel with her at the tiny face that was completely ignoring them in sleep, oblivious to their wonder.
“Hey there, buddy,” Daniel said, whisper soft, delicately reaching out to cup the back of the baby’s head in one hand. “We’ve been waiting to meet you.”
“Oh, he’s perfect, Daniel,” Peggy said with a sniff she’d deny, but nothing was going to wipe the smile from her face that day.
“Yeah, he is.”
“Hi, baby boy,” Peggy cooed, lifting her arms so she could kiss that little face.
He wiggled, face scrunching up, before settling in her arms again, snuffling as he pressed his nose to Peggy’s skin.
“Hello, Michael,” Peggy whispered. “I’m your Mummy.”