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kizunarae · 1 month

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a mismatched mess: a fitz and molly essay

In my re-read of ROTE, I am struck again by the profound mismatch between Fitz and Molly. Neither complements the other, and their relationship is fraught with tension and incompatibility. However, what really compels me to write this is what seems to be the prevailing sentiment within the fandom that places the blame squarely on Fitz’s shoulders. I believe that this perspective is an oversimplification and rather unfair to Fitz. The demise of their relationship was not unilaterally caused by Fitz; rather, it was a shared unraveling.

I will be focusing solely on events up to the end of Royal Assassin, avoiding spoilers for subsequent books. I will put it under a read more as it will be long...

I want to disclaimer that while I may appear fairly critical of Molly's behavior, I do not think she did anything particularly wrong and do believe her emotions and reactions are largely justified. It is just precisely because of who she is (and who Fitz is) that I believe they are a bad match. Additionally, I think Fitz's wrongs have been hashed out extensively so I will only briefly touch on points I disagree with and not elaborate overmuch on his failures in their relationship.

I will begin with their first reunion in Royal Assassin. Fitz has just returned to the Keep after being on his deathbed for several months. Each person he encounters barely recognizes him through his wasted and sickly appearance. Fitz, embarrassed by his weakness, pulls a foolish move: he claims to be drunk when a passing serving girl—none other than Molly—crosses his path. His attempt to save face and avoid interaction turns futile. And yet, despite the evidence that Fitz is clearly sickly in appearance, Molly's first reaction is not concern. It is not to hear his side of the story nor to find out how he has been, nor consider anything that he may have gone through. Instead, she is focused only on her own experiences, and her own feelings and thus responds only with pure outrage and begins firing off accusations with misplaced anger.

Without basis, she accuses him of courting her and then abandoning her. I think many take this claim at face value, because "Fitz should have known what he was doing" (as Patience also intoned). However, let's consider the books have established a three-year age gap between Fitz and Molly. Thus, in Assassin's Apprentice, Fitz would have been begun "courting" Molly at around the age of 13-15 while Molly was 16-18. Even without viewing this through a modern lens, this claim feels like a stretch to me. Imagine expecting a young boy, barely schooled in social norms, to understand that strolling through town with a childhood friend equals courtship. No words or actions passed between them that indicated anything more than friendship. I believe Patience's scolding and instructions were fitting and commendable. However, Molly’s internalization of this narrative against Fitz seems misplaced and unfair, given her knowledge of their shared history and relationship.

Then, after he shares his concern for her about what he saw in his dream. She accuses him of purposely scheming and attempting to deceive her; that he must have heard her whole story in the tavern and is just making fun of her. This is again a very unfair characterization for her to place on Fitz; nothing she knows about him should indicate that he would do something like this at her expense.

She has a right to be upset that Fitz kept his true identity from her. But he also had a right to do so. She gave him no grace and despite his apparent weakened state, she did not allow him to give any explanations. Worse, because of how Fitz is, he immediately accepts her view of the situation and berates himself for not realizing the courtship, despite having had no tools of his own to recognize that. This pattern continues throughout their relationship.

And this, in essence, is what makes Fitz and Molly such a toxic pair. She accuses him of things he does not intend or cannot change, and he, like a sponge, absorbs them as truth, eroding his own perspective and identity. And on the other side, I believe Molly deserves someone who will challenge her. Someone to stretch her boundaries, broaden her horizons. A companion who could wholeheartedly dedicate their life to a family and business together in partnership. Because, while not necessarily a flaw, she has blinders on and focuses largely on her personal happiness and fulfillment. She does not want to bother with thinking of the realm, the raiders or the help other families may need. This is a chasm between her and Fitz, whose heart bleeds for his people's misfortune and feels a duty to his station and Kings. Instead of embracing and appreciating Fitz's compassionate heart and will to make the Six Duchies a better place, she frequently berates him and minimizes his feelings by accusing him of only being a mere king's pawn unable to think and choose for himself.

Especially as readers, we know this isn't the whole truth. We’ve witnessed Fitz’s tears for a dead child cradled in his arms, felt the fire of vengeance burning within him against the raiders. Molly has not, and yet, it does not seem she cares to know. To each of Fitz's explanations, she complains and argues. While we only get the taste of a few of these encounters, Fitz comments that it is a frequent topic of contention between them.

Molly wants Fitz to fit into her mold and she wants what makes her happy to be what makes him happy. She longs for the days when Fitz was only Newboy. She says she just doesn't understand the things he tells her, and yet I feel this is the same "not understanding" that Fitz employs with the Fool; in fact, it is very much understood, it is just not what they want to acknowledge as truth. Because Fitz is not Newboy, and because she subconsciously blames Fitz for not being Newboy, she thus does not put in effort to know and accept Fitz for who he is. I do not consider her calling Fitz as Newboy throughout Royal Assassin a simple nickname; to me it speaks of Molly desperately trying to reverse time and put Fitz back in the box she liked him best in.

I think exactly how little Molly knows Fitz is further illustrated by the Nighteyes-as-Fitz scene. It is a weird and, in some ways, humorous scene, but what struck me is how Molly appears to know Fitz so poorly that she did not sense anything amiss about an intimate encounter with a literal wolf in Fitz-clothing.

Returning to Fitz's identity and 'lies' throughout their relationship, I personally do not believe that Fitz owed her the truth of his identity from the beginning. It was a deeply personal matter and I believe it was not wrong for him to keep it private. As a young boy, he felt his status as a bastard was deeply shameful, and it is no wonder he would not share it. In my opinion, he would have a duty to disclose if he had truly begun to court her, however he was never given this chance.

So, did he continue to lie after his identity was revealed to her? I do not believe so. He shares much with her about what he does, and about Verity and King Shrewd. It is not a question to me that he would not be able to disclose every detail of what he knows; his knowledge of his kingdom's affairs and his identity as an assassin are not entirely his secrets to share. There are surely modern equivalents of this as well. It is hardly unusual to be unable to share some portions of one's work with one's partner. However, Molly deems this as unacceptable and unforgiveable, despite her lack of interest in what he does— a further inherent incompatibility in their relationship. Instead of offering understanding and support for the isolation that Fitz must feel for being in such a position with his Kings, she resents him for things he has no real power to change. Keep in mind if he had left the Kings' protection at the time, his life would surely have been threatened as Chivalry's was lost. Molly should be able to understand this, and yet she cannot see past her current unhappiness.

In her time at the Keep, Molly also puts a large amount of pressure on Fitz. She is out of her element, she has had a traumatic experience, she knows no one at court. And so, she often complains to Fitz that he doesn't spend more time with her. In a very unhealthy way, she attempts to force him to be everything for her at the Keep— her only social outlet, her support, her protector. Due to this, her resentment for Fitz and his choices grows with every moment he is not with her, and she spends much of their time together asking him to turn away from who and what he is to start a life together.

In the end, both hold the other up as idealized versions one could never hope to fulfil; Molly wants Fitz without his royalty or passion for his people. Fitz yearns for Molly, stripped of independence, her self-driven, entrepreneurial nature tucked away. In their relationship, they offer only moments of fleeting comfort punctuated by feelings of sadness and blame. They cannot fulfill each other's expectations. Molly is unable to bolster Fitz's confidence in himself and the peace and acceptance he desperately craves remain elusive. And likewise, Fitz cannot offer Molly purpose or allow her the sense of security she desires under which to prosper her business and family.

And so, these two are ill-matched and ill-fated, clinging through each other to the last vestiges of a childhood they wish they did not have to leave behind.

#i do like her as a character #im just am confounded people see it as a true romance #she never really does anything for fitz?#and he only is with her for what she represents to him imo #i also have a lot of feelings about neurodivergence #and everyone just expecting fitz to Know Things #maybe i will write about that another time #i think generally people really cut molly too much slack throughout royal assassin #she was lonely and traumatized and wanted fitz to be her everything #she didn't want to be a servant #she wanted him to go help her start her livelihood again #all very understandable #but not healthy or romantic imo...#kizuna rereads #rote #realm of the elderlings #assassin's apprentice #royal assassin #fitzchivalry farseer #i won't tag this as molly #since it is critical #also be nice to me #i haven't written something like this in a long time #i also have quotes to support my conclusions but i didn't include bc it was unwieldly and unpleasant to read

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girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years

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Kiss It Better

A/n: It’s like two or three days late (under the prompt of cuddles), but it has a decent word count so I’m not too upset with myself! It kinda accidentally turned into a hurt/comfort thing but that helped with ✨plot✨ So it’s okay! Also @titzweek here ya go-

Word count: 3000

Trigger warnings: mention of mild aggression (throwing plates), blood mention (nothing too graphic)

Warnings: it’s not the greatest and also i edited it at like 1 or 2am in the dark so like, maybe errors? Idk

Writing taglist: @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @bookwyrminspiration @percabetn @an-absolute-travesty @linhamon-roll @a-lonely-tatertot @loverofallthingssmart @vibing-in-the-void @clearlykeefitz @callas-starkflower-stew @enbies-and-felonies

The morning mist held strong, reinforcing gravity and making it even more difficult for Tam to drag himself out of his makeshift bed by the lake. Leaning over the fogged up waters, he wrung out his bangs, combing them back into place with his hands. The water here could hardly be trusted.

“Well,” he grunted as he stood up, patting an old dying tree with a gloved hand. “It was nice seeing you, Wildwood. You take it easy, alright?”

The trees groaned in response, both from age and from the weight of all that it had undergone and seen from the hazy backgrounds of the world. Maybe that was why he cared for Wildwood. It was like him. From the shadows. Ignored until needed. Cast aside when they differ from the norm. To him, he and Wildwood were one and the same. Or at least, they used to be. In the past months, Tam had found what Wildwood could only hope to receive: love.

And as the colors of the sunrise faded into blue, Tam was comforted by that one constant he had in his life. His perfect golden boy there to bring light into his world.

————

As soon as Tam walked into the Vackers’ territory, he was yanked to the side, knocking the breath from his chest. He prepared for a fight, but upon seeing a stylized sparkling fabric blinking in and out of sight, he relaxed just a bit.

“What the hell, B? I thought you were trying to attack me.”

“Quiet,” Biana scolded, finally coming into view. Her annoyed expression quickly changed to fear and dread as a shattering sound echoes across the stone walls of the extensive landscape. Biana shut her eyes and winced noticeably. “He’s been at that ever since Dad stormed off.”

“Rough day?”

“I guess you could say that.” Biana bit her lip. “Mom went after Dad after he yelled at us.”

“But the two of you are okay, right?”

“I’m alright. It’s Fitz I’m worried about,” she admitted. “I’ve been too scared to go up to him because of… well, you know.” Biana’s thumb traced over her scars absentmindedly.

Tam squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, you did what you could. It’s not your job to stop him from doing something irrational, and you’re not expected to do something that’ll trigger you. I’ll go after him.”

“Tam, it’s fine, I’ll do it-”

“I’ll go after him, you get some rest.”

“Only if you promise to be careful,” she warned. “Use your cloak as a shield, so that you don’t get caught in the crossfire of his throws. And put your gloves back on!”

Tam slipped off his gloves and tossed them behind his back without a second thought. He dropped his cloak in a similar fashion, only going back to fold it neatly and add it to the pile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Tam, you know how he gets when he’s upset. The rage, it blinds him, it blurs anything and everything around him to the point where the only he knows is that fire of hate. He’s not going to register that it’s you approaching him.”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Tam pointed out in an exasperated manner. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Isn’t that a shame.”

Biana huffed, rubbing the crease between her brows. “You’re just as stubborn as he is.”

“Don’t they say that birds of a feather flock together?” Tam asked, walking backwards and opening his arms in a gesture that said That’s just how it is.

“Yeah, until the cat comes,” she shot back.

“Then let’s hope that cat doesn’t arrive.”

“You two idiots deserve each other!” she cried in one last attempt to get him to turn back.

“Thank you!” he called back, already headed towards the horizon.

Biana sank to the floor, scowling as she dragged Tam’s belongings closer to her for protection. “Dense fool,” she muttered. But Tam was already out of sight.

--------

Tam approached the area in a calm stroll, but as he drew nearer, the cold dread that Biana had described filled him and dragged him back, just like the familiar, addictive pull of the shadows. They gathered at his feet, shadowflux begging to be called on, but Tam was far too busy trying to calculate a way to coax his boyfriend into putting the crystal dishes down.

He was like a rampant bull, hurling plate after plate at the wall. His hands had small cuts, but overall he seemed to be unscathed despite the several hours this had clearly been going on. Tam avoided clumps of shattered pieces so as not to startle him. While his movements proved to make him a berserker, it was also an art. One slight decibel off might send him on the attacking side.

“Fitz!” Tam shouted. He didn’t even glance his way. “FITZ!” Still no response. He just kept on launching silverware as far as he could. Tam sighed. He didn’t want it to come down to this, but if Biana had waited hours just for him to show up and put an end to this, he was not going to let her down. He seized the tendrils of shadows that had been itching to be used and directed all of his focus towards the cup about to be thrown with the hope that if he used his ability instead of telekinesis, he would recognize his beloved.

Shiiiing!

Fitz immediately put his hands over his mouth in shock and guilt, rushing over to check the damage.

Tam cupped his hand, blood gushing from the wound like a river. “Guess you ran out of throwing stars, huh?” he joked halfheartedly, wincing as he applied pressure to the cut.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so dumb.” Fitz ripped off a sleeve from his shirt to wrap around the slice in his partner’s hand. He cupped Tam’s cheek, the boy gladly moving towards the physical affection. “I’m so sorry, Tammy.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to do it,” he replied nonchalantly. Upon seeing the great panic spreading through Fitz’s person, he took a more gentle approach. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve had a bad day and you just made a mistake, and I forgive you.”

“I hurt you.” Fitz’s voice cracked, and it became evident that Tam’s words had gone over his head. Fitz scooped Tam up in his arms and raced into the house.

“Relax, golden boy.” Tam rolled his eyes, but even he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the attentiveness he was being given. “It’s just a little cut, it’ll heal.”

Fitz scrambled through the drawers until he found the bandages, a Bottle of Youth, and the antibiotic ointment. From there, his panic switched to precision, first rinsing the wound, then applying the ointment, then wrapping the gauze bandage. It was a completely different side of him, one that would sacrifice the world for the ones that he loved. And despite Tam’s rough exterior, he couldn’t help but lean his head on his other hand in admiration.

Once he had finished, Fitz sat on the bar stool next to Tam’s and combed through his rosy pink locks in distress. Tam nudged his shoulder with his nose several times, earning him a side hug and a kiss to the cheek, but no words other than the repeated apologies and self-deprecating phrases.

“Babe,” Tam said helplessly. “Let’s go upstairs at least, so we can talk about this privately.”

Fitz nodded, letting him lead the way. He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice when Tam had tucked him into bed and wrapped an arm around him, burying his face in his neck.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Fitz mumbled again. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Tam used his abled hand to wipe them.

“I told you it’s forgiven,” Tam gently reminded him. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Not the Vackers,” he countered, sniffling. “We always have to keep up our reputation, keep on smiling and charming everyone just to go to the store. I can’t go anywhere without people expecting me to be the perfect golden boy.”

“No one is perfect. We’re all flawed and traumatized and hurt, and we make stupid decisions because of them. You’re a kid, Fitz, it’s not your job to hold your family together.”

“I guess. But Biana…” he sighed, pulling Tam closer as he facepalmed in guilt. “I shouldn’t have done that with her here. And how am I supposed to clean up the yard before Mom gets back?”

“Don’t worry about that, the gnomes are already on it,” he coaxed. “And Biana understands. You can talk to her later. For now, the golden boy needs to rest.”

“I can’t,” Fitz protested, trying to get up. Tam flipped himself over him, ending up besides Fitzroy once more. “Tam, I have to take care of you, and help the gnomes, and apologize to Biana, and-”

“And all of that can wait until tomorrow,” Tam finished for him. “Except me, of course.”

Fitz laughed, a real, rich laugh, and he could tell that it was the first time he had done that in a while. “I’m guessing you want me to stay here all day, all night?”

“Well, I do need medical and physical attention you know.”

He kissed Tam’s nose, making him blush furiously. “Well then, I guess I’ve got to cancel my plans. But seriously, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“You could kiss it better,” Tam suggested cheekily.

Fitz said no more, gingerly taking his wrapped hand and peppering kisses around where he knew the injury to be. He trailed them up his arms and neck until he finally met his lips.

“I am really sorry, babe. That got all out of control. My father, he… he’s done some messed up things to this family, and as the proclaimed ‘Gifted Child,’ I felt responsible for stepping in. And like everything else, I ruined it.”

“You don’t realize that the good you do purposely outweighs the slip-ups you make along the way.”

“This was more than a slip-up, Tam. I became a monster, something I’ve never seen before. I was a violent beast that lost control, all because my Dad yelled at me for being a ‘disgrace to the Vackers’ for being gay. And because of that stupidity, I hurt you, and scared Biana outside of that.”

Tam’s eyes widened with shock. “Wait, you got angry because you were protecting me?”

“Well, yeah, of course. My father can drag me down all he wants, but he’s not touching the people that I love.”

“Love?”

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve known you weren’t ready-”

“I love you too.”

“I- Wait, really?”

“Duh,” Tam chuckled, before his expression grew shadowed and weary. “Besides… we all have a dark side. I know I’d do anything for the people I care about.”

“What does yours look like?” Fitz asked. “Your dark side, I mean.”

He smiled bitterly, shadows of his past trauma flashes before his eyes in a relentless, rough grip. “You don’t want to know that part of me.”

“Babe, I want to know every side of you.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Of course,” Fitz grinned eagerly. “I want to know everything you’re willing to share.”

“Then cuddle with me. Get to know another part of me.”

Fitzroy rested his chin on Tam’s chest and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, just as his own were dancing with glee. “Gladly.”

—————

Tam woke up to a loud series of sharp knocks on the bedroom door.

“Your breakfast is gonna get cold,” a feminine voice told him.

He inhaled sharply and ruffled his hair, using his tunic to rub his eyes, all in an attempt to focus on the figure leaning against the doorframe.

“C’mon, it’s past noon.”

Tam bolted upright, rushing to the bedside to pull his boots on. It could’ve been Fitz calling to him, but his mind was cloudy, warping any and all audio that reached his ears.

“I knew that would get you up,” the voice snickered. “Fitz told me to get you up in time for breakfast in bed.”

Tam chanced a glance up to see if his vision had finally cleared. Yup, definitely not Fitz. “Oh hey, B. I take it you and your brother talked?”

She nodded, arms still crossed tightly around her lilac fleece-like pullover for warmth. “Came running to me and went on his whole apology speech once you passed out. It was dorky, but it was also very… him. If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” He took a moment to inspect the tray and found a neatly folded piece of paper. A note from him. He read through it as Biana kept talking.

Good morning dearest, I just wanted to leave you this note to remind you that I love you and to apologize once again.

“When I saw him rush outside a few minutes after Mom left with an armful of tupperware, I was confused, but when he started throwing them in the yard, I was terrified for him. He’s lost control, but never like that. I felt powerless.”

“You did what you could, no one can ask you for more,” he mumbled.

“I stood to the side and waited for his boyfriend to come and stop him, and he wound up getting hurt. Real brave on my end.”

“It’s not being brave you should be aiming for, it’s doing what you need to do in order to protect the people you live for.”

I’m sorry. I know you’ll probably tell me not to apologize, but I really needed to get that out there in ink. Thank you for being there for Biana, I don’t know how I would live with myself if I had traumatized her or made her feel unsafe around me, but we talked for a bit and she helped me find better coping mechanisms, so all is forgiven. Well, as long as I give her my desserts for this month.

“I don’t think I did that yesterday. I chose the coward’s path.”

“You took the wise path, and you protected number one,” Tam corrected. “You know your brother better than anyone, and you knew the right choice was to let him blow off some steam until someone who wasn’t present when everything went down could talk him out of it. That was brave, and I think it’s quite admirable, too.”

“I guess you’re right.” She sighed, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail to give her hands something to do. “Still, I’m sorry about your hand.”

Tam waved it off. “I’ve gotten enough Vacker apologies over that. There’s no need.”

“If you say so.”

You were completely understanding last night, even while I was breaking down. You guided me through everything, and you were there for me, even when I couldn’t be there for myself. Thank you for being there. For letting me shadow you until I could be whole and healed again.

“You’re good for him,” Biana blurted out abruptly.

Tam furrowed his brows, sure he heard that wrong. “I’m what?”

“I said that you’re good for him. Fitz. I meant what I said when I told you that you two idiots deserve each other.”

“Thank you,” he breathed in shock.

“Remember the idiot part and don’t let it get to your head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You are my healing darkness. No, not light. Darkness. Because I never understood why darkness was so demonized. Shadows are what keep you cool on a hot summer’s evening, what provides cover from the rain, and what puts you to sleep at night. The color black is as natural as the air flowing into our lungs, the blood circulating through our bodies, and the dirt under our feet. So when I think of darkness, I don’t think of fear; I think of hope. I think of you.

“You better not hurt him.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m serious, Tam. I know it sounds hypocritical considering what happened to you yesterday, but I’m just as protective of Fitz as you are of Linh. Understood?”

“Yes, Ms. Vacker.”

Biana relaxed a bit at the confirmation. “You promise to look after him?”

“I promise,” he agreed.

Y’know, when you called me golden boy, it got me thinking. Gold is the weakest metal, and for a while I thought the nickname fit me perfectly. A boy who was seen as the perfect, charming, valuable golden boy who could break in the blink of an eye. But the more I was with you, the more I thought about it. If shadows were misunderstood, maybe gold was too. And here’s the thing: gold doesn’t rust. You can break it and bend it and try all you want to ruin its life, but no matter what, you can’t make it rust. And second to you, that is the strongest thing I can imagine. So for you, I’ll stay strong. I won’t give up. I won’t rust.

“One last thing before I leave you alone.”

“Go right ahead.” Tam let himself free fall onto the mountain of pillows behind him, note still in hand.

“Don’t take advantage of him. He may be a pain in my neck, but he’s valuable,” Biana mentioned, clearly having so much more to say. “You’re… incredibly lucky to have him.”

So let’s work jointly on this. On healing. I’ll be your gold, strong when you’re weak. And you’ll be my darkness, always there for me. But we have to do this together. I’m willing to take a leap of faith if you are. All of my trust lies in you, and I hope you’ll pay me the same honor. So what do you say? Circle yes or no and meet me by Moonglade with your response. Last I remember, I still have to kiss it better.

With love,

Fitzroy

Tam picked up the pen tied to the tray and circled yes without hesitation. “I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

#pls give feedback!#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #fitz vacker #tam song #titz #fitz and the tantrums #kotlc fanfic #Cade’s writing #titz week 2020 #should i post it this early? No #but I’m impatientttt #lemme know what you think about this one cuz i have mixed feelings

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

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Bombshell [B. Barnes] - 1

Pairing: British S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent!Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: swearing probably, (legal) consumption of alcohol, I think that’s it for this chapter?

Word Count: 6.3K

a/n: SO stands for Supervising Officer, not Significant Other. See end of chapter for more notes.

Masterlist Prologue Next Part

___

It had been months since you had followed Coulson's team onto their giant plane and flew to Nick Fury's secret base. You had parted with the team when Hill arrived at the base and offered you immunity as well as an opportunity to continue working with herself and Natasha which you gladly took, but not before making it clear to Coulson that you would always be loyal to SHIELD and that he should contact you if he needed anything.

It hadn't taken long for him to take you up on that offer.

You had been walking out of the Avengers Tower about a month later, having finished work for the day, when you got the call from a private number. Calls from private numbers were common in your line of work so you hadn't thought anything of it when you picked up.

"Agent Y/L/N?"

"Coulson?" you were shocked to hear his voice. You knew you had said to call if SHEILD needed anything but in truth you had assumed the organization would die out once Coulson and his team had settled their score with Grant Ward and John Garrett.

"Remember when you said to call if I needed anything?"

"Distinctly, sir."

"Again with the 'sir,'" Coulson chuckled, reminding you of his request back at the Hub. "There's a car waiting for you out front if you're interested in hearing me out."

You sighed as you stepped out onto the crowded Manhattan pavement. "Coulson, surely you understand why I wouldn't get into a vehicle with someone I didn't know."

"I do understand," Coulson responded just as you looked up, locking eyes with the man. "That's why I'm driving."

Phil Coulson was parked in front of Avengers Tower in a 1962 red Chevy Corvette.

"You're letting me ride in Lola?" You gasped excitedly, knowing how much Phil Coulson prized his antique car. "You must really want my help."

"Well, don't get too comfortable," He said as you buckled your seatbelt, "I'm going to have to blindfold you."

"Coulson where exactly are we going?"

"SHIELD's new secret headquarters."

"You resurrected SHIELD?" You couldn't keep the excitement from your voice. Being a SHIELD agent was all you had ever known and the month in which you had presumed it dead was devastating, but hearing that the organization was still operating, albeit in secret, provided you with a sense of relief you couldn't quite explain.

"With Fury's blessing," Coulson responded with a grin before faltering. "I assume you know Fury's alive?"

"It seems I can't stop working with men who are supposed to be dead but aren't." She quipped.

"I suppose you're right." Coulson conceded lightly before returning to business. "I'd like to take you to see the new HQ and meet the team but until you agree to sign on, I'm afraid its location will have to remain a secret."

He held out a blindfold and you sighed reluctantly but took it nonetheless.

"Won't it look a little suspicious, me sitting clearly blindfolded in your convertible?" You questioned, unintentionally stalling putting on the blindfold. "You didn't have any other vehicles available with a bit more discretion?"

"Oh, I could've taken one of the SUVs, but it's like you said: I really want your help."

___

The base was amazing. Originally Peggy Carter's S.S.R. facility, the Playground had been renovated to provide any and everything the underground organization could need. Upon their arrival, Coulson had given you a full tour of the facility, starting with the massive hanger, then the labs, gym, living quarters, and holding cells. The Playground felt homier than the Hub, with its brick walls and warm tones, but it certainly wasn't any less technologically advanced.

"So, director, where do I sign on?" You asked as you sat across from Coulson in his office.

"Nowhere, yet," Coulson answered, leaning back in his desk chair. "I'd like you to meet the team first."

"Coulson, I already love your team. It would be an honor to work with them again."

"Yes, well, the team looks a little different these days." Coulson checked his watch. "They should be ready for you now."

You followed the director out of his office and back to the communal kitchen and living room where Coulson seemed to have gathered all his agents.

"We have a few agents out on assignment, but for the most part this is SHIELD" He explained as they stood in the entranceway.

You were a bit underwhelmed by the turnout; only about a dozen agents filled the room, nothing compared to the organization's previous size.

"I know it's not much," Coulson continued, noticing the look of dismay on your face, "We're doing our best to rebuild, trying to recruit as many agents as we can. That's where you come in."

You were broken-hearted to see your beloved organization reduced to a handful of agents but it had only been a month you rationalized, and not many people were likely willing to work for what the United States government had deemed a terrorist organization.

"I already told you I was ready to sign on, Coulson. You're the one who's postponing that."

"You're right." Coulson smiled guiltily, turning to get the attention of his agents. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet our newest addition, Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She hasn't officially signed on yet so be nice to her until she does."

You laughed at that before Coulson gestured for you to go mingle. You immediately beelined for the first familiar face you saw.

"Trip!" You greeted the man excitedly, thrilled, though not surprised, to see that he was still apart of the organization.

"Agent Y/L/N!" He turned to greet you in return. "I hope you're not going to pull a gun on me this time." He teased, referring back to when you had last met at the Hub.

"As long as I have no reason to suspect you're Hydra then you ought to be safe." You quipped back, slightly shocked that you were able to joke about such a traumatic day. "And please, for the love of Christ, call me Y/N."

"Sorry, old habits die hard I guess." Trip apologized sincerely before going right back to their teasing banter. "Now, it's been good to see you, but I'm pretty sure the point of us all being here was for you to get to know the agents you haven't already threatened."

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, though the smile on your face gave away the insincerity of the action. You had only had a few days on the Bus and at the Providence base to truly get to know each other but you knew Trip was a good man and you enjoyed his presence.

"At least go get a beer," Trip said, nodding towards the fridge.

You nodded, agreeing to his idea and insisting you catch up later before heading across the room, though you didn't even make it to the fridge before you was stopped by another agent, this one unfamiliar.

"So, Coulson's got the British Bombshell working for SHIELD again." The deep voice rumbled from behind you and you turned to face the large black man.

"I see my reputation precedes me," You said with a small chuckle, always surprised when people knew who you were, "though I prefer to go by Y/N." You stuck your hand out for the man to shake.

"Mack," the man shared, grasping your hand in a firm shake.

"Well, Mack, I was just going to grab a beer. Would you like one?" You offered, leading the way to the fridge as you chatted. As it turned out Mack was the new head of mechanics, though he wasn't new to SHEILD.

"Going straight for a beer? A woman after my own heart." A British voice spoke out as you turned from the fridge with two beers in hand.

The man nimbly snatched one of the bottles from your hand and Mack rolled his eyes, indicating that this happened often, you handed him the remaining beer before turning back to grab one for yourself. You took a moment to examine the man as you uncapped the bottle. He contrasted with Mack, the white man dwarfed by the other agent's height and built frame. He didn't look like a typical SHIELD agent with his scruffy beard and unrefined physique and you wondered if he was a completely new hire.

"I didn't know Coulson hired another Brit before he even tried to recruit me." You needled as you sipped your beer.

"Ah, finally a familiar accent!" The man exclaimed, "It was starting to feel a little lonely around here. I'm Hunter."

"Y/N." You introduced, shaking hands with the scruffy-faced man. "It can't be too lonely, though, what about FitzSimmons?"

"Isn't much talking from them around here anymore, is there?" Hunter said brashly, assuming that you were already aware of what had happened.

Mack, however, had gone silent, a somber expression on his face.

"There was... an accident." Mack finally spoke. "They both made it out but Fitz has some brain damage and Simmons left."

"Brain damage? But Fitz is still here?" You asked, deciding you would ask Coulson for the details later.

The men nodded, Hunter jerking his head towards the lab across the hall.

"He has issues speaking and using his hands," Mack explained when he saw the pained look on your face as you watched the man wander around, looking lost in his own lab. "He's been isolating himself."

You nodded, setting your half-finished beer on the countertop and excusing yourself, making your way across the hall.

Like with Trip, you had only had a few days with Leo Fitz but he and Simmons had been so warm and friendly towards you, thrilled to have another Brit traveling with them. The three of them had clicked together immediately and it pained you to see that all torn apart.

"Hey, Fitz." You said cautiously as you entered the lab and the man in question spun around.

"Agent... uh... agent-" He stammered, shaking his hand anxiously as he tried to come up with her last name but failed.

"Y/N." You corrected softly, smiling at your friend.

"No, that's not..." He protested, reaching his hands up to grasp his head in frustration.

"Fitz, it's okay." You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I don't want you to call me Agent Y/L/N. We're not colleagues passing in the field, you know me. It's Y/N."

"Y/N." Fitz nodded, relaxing his posture, his hands hanging limply at his sides.

You quickly fell into silence after that, Fitz struggling with words and you unsure of how to navigate the issue. You ended up standing side by side watching as the other agents milled around across the hall. The silence had become comfortable as you stood together, merely observing.

"I'm so glad to be back." You sighed happily, resting your head on Fitz's shoulder.

"But it's, uh, it's different now." Fitz stuttered out harshly, straightening up and causing your head to fall from his shoulder.

You reached out a hand comfortingly, placing it on his shoulder.

"Different doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"I have... I have to." He turned his back to her as he gestured frustratedly towards the lab, unable to come up with the right words.

"Of course, you have work to do." You tried not to be upset by the sudden harshness, you knew he was struggling to adjust. "I'll leave you to it."

You made your way back across the hall, hoping to find Coulson and ask what had happened to SHIELD's most famous scientist duo. However, when you found the director, he was accompanied by an older and shorter man who you recognized immediately.

"Agent Koenig... you're alive?" You managed to get out through your shock. You had seen Agent Koenig's dead body for yourself at Providence. "I thought Ward had killed you at Providence!"

"That was my brother, Eric, actually." The Agent said somberly, though he switched back to chipper in an instant. "I'm Billy Koenig."

"I'm so sorry for your loss Agent Koenig," You spoke sincerely, a frown on your face as you introduced yourself. "I'm-"

"The British Bombshell," Billy gushed, shaking your hand excitedly. "Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Can I get a picture?"

"I beg your pardon?" You gasped, slightly affronted. It was one thing to know your name and your accomplishments but you felt strongly that your line of work shouldn't inspire fandom.

"We'll need a picture of you for your lanyard," Billy explained and you nodded sheepishly.

The picture only took a matter of seconds and you were glad you had been coming off a day at work and not your day off. This way you at least looked presentable.

"Sir- Coulson," you corrected, hoping to get away from Billy, something about the Koenigs unnerved you. "It's been lovely seeing the facilities and meeting the team but I have a job to go to in the morning and we still have a contract to discuss."

They returned to the director's office, passing Mack and Hunter who were now thoroughly engaged in a video game as some of the other agents crowded around to watch. You stopped to hug Skye on your way out of the room, promising the girl that you'd make time to catch up next time you were on base.

"Sir, what happened to Fitz?" You blurted out once they were in the hallway, unable to contain the question that had been nagging you.

"Ward dropped him and Simmons into the ocean in a storage container." You gasped. "They managed to escape but Fitz went nine minutes without oxygen. He's got brain damage, but he's been making very slow improvements. A month ago he couldn't even speak."

"With all due respect, sir, why isn't Ward dead yet?" You asked, your own blood boiling from learning what the traitorous bastard had done, you couldn't even imagine how Coulson's team had to be feeling.

"Because I'd rather watch him suffer in a cell," Coulson answered curtly, taking a seat at his desk. "Now, about that contract."

As it turned out, Coulson had already been in contact with Hill and Fury to work out a system so that you could continue to work for both organizations. You were relieved by this, as it meant you wouldn't have to go through the hassle of making all the arrangements, however, with all of your employers aware of your position, you knew you'd be asked to share classified information as there was no way the Avengers and SHIELD weren't withholding any information from each other.

Coulson explained that you would go back and forth as needed and that SHIELD would provide transportation whenever necessary. Additionally, you would have a room at the base to stay in when you worked with SHIELD as Coulson wanted to limit the frequency of people entering and exiting the base as much as possible to protect its location. You signed immediately.

"I don't suppose that offer of transportation starts now?"

Coulson held up Lola's keys. "I'll drive you home."

___

Though you wouldn't have it any other way, it was certainly difficult working for both organizations. Only Fury and Maria knew of your employment at SHIELD, the organization-- and Coulson's life-- needing to remain a secret from the Avengers. Life was a little easier at the Playground as you were able to tell your colleagues that you worked with the Avengers, however, your work there was highly classified. Not to mention most of the agents weren't aware that Fury was alive and well; another dead man's secret for you to keep.

Secret-keeping aside, working with the Avengers was a bit of a dream itself. There was less fieldwork for you there, the team of well-trained superheroes typically took care of that, but there was still the joy of tracking and taking down Hydra which had become a bit of a passion project for you as of late. Plus, Avengers Tower was fully equipped with a state-of-the-art training facility and plenty of competent sparring partners for when you got too restless at your desk. And really, who wouldn't be thrilled to be working alongside The Avengers? Literal superheroes. It had taken all of your Academy training to maintain your composure when you had first met them.

You had been working at the tower for about a week when Nat had approached you. The Black Widow had been the only Avenger you had seen in that first week, which surprised you as you thought you'd at least meet Tony Stark since you technically worked for him and he owned the building but your paths never crossed. But apparently, on Friday nights the team got together for drinks on the Avengers' floor and it seemed "the team" also included you. You had half-expected to be the only outsider when you stepped off the elevator with Nat that evening but you were relieved to be wrong. The floor's common area was filled with a mixture of heroes and agents, you recognized Sharon Carter at the bar and Callie Hannigan chatting with a few younger agents in one corner. You were relieved to see Callie here, the young scientist was brilliant and there was no question in your mind that Hydra had attempted to recruit her.

Maria had been waiting for the pair by the door, her hair down for once and her usual serious expression relaxed.

"Feels a bit like we're back at the Academy, the three of us at a party together," you remarked nostalgically as you made your way to the bar.

"It's better than the academy," Maria quipped. "This time I won't have to take care of you both when you're hungover tomorrow."

"I don't think I've had a hangover since Nat left the Academy." you teased and Maria laughed knowingly.

"I didn't realize you stopped having fun when I left." The redhead teased back, pouting in faux sympathy.

"Oh, I still had plenty of fun, I just didn't have anyone forcing me to drink vodka all night!"

"Well good thing I'm here, then," Nat said, turning to the bartender to order, "Two vodka sodas please."

"Oh absolutely not!" You protested with a laugh, addressing the bartender yourself. "I'll have a beer please."

"You're no fun."

You and Maria laughed at the sincere pout on the woman's face.

"Sorry Nat, I'm a big girl now," you shrugged with a grin, taking a sip of your beer, "I don't let the girl from across the hall bully me into doing shots with her in the boiler room."

You could tell Natasha was ready with another clever quip to throw back at you but you were fortunately saved from hearing it.

"Romanoff, aren't you going to introduce us to your beautiful friend?" The three of you turned your heads at the comment and you were unsurprised to see that Tony Stark was behind it.

He was standing closer to the middle of the room with the rest of the Avengers, all of whom were now staring at the three of you.

"Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any for you to meet the team." Maria shrugged, and Nat led the way over to the group of men.

"Tony Stark," The man introduced, suavely kissing the back of your hand with a wink. "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

"Extra emphasis on the 'playboy' part I suppose," You smirked, not swooning in the way that you assumed many other women did when met with that greeting.

Tony's ears seemed to perk up at the sound of your accent. "Cap, she's just your type!"

Steve Rogers, who was engaged in a conversation with a man you assumed to be Sam Wilson, turned at the comment but only to roll his eyes at the man.

"Oh come on!" Tony whined, throwing his arms up at his team. "Romanoff and Hill bring a gorgeous British woman to the party and none of you are even paying attention!"

"For the record, Nat and Maria didn't bring me. I was invited as a member of your organization." You said pointedly, growing tired of being underestimated and dismissed as just a pretty face.

"You work here?" Tony balked slightly and you nodded, doing your best not to stare at the man like he was a lunatic. "Shit, I am so sorry. Jesus this is an HR nightmare."

"You can relax Mr. Stark, I have no intention of reporting you to HR." you laughed lightly, hoping to diffuse the tension. "Though I really would suggest you avoid underestimating every beautiful woman who walks through your door, some of us could kill you without breaking a nail."

"I suppose you hired her?" Tony asked Maria, giving the woman a pointed look.

"Trained her myself back in the day," Maria smirked proudly.

"Hey! I helped!" Nat pouted.

"Yeah, helped her get into trouble." Maria shot back with a cheeky grin and Natasha gasped, mouth dropping open.

"Come on, Chris," she said, grabbing your wrist to pull you away from Maria and Tony. "I have cooler people to introduce you to."

You laughed as you followed your friend away from Maria and Tony. The redhead practically dragged you over to the two superheroes having a conversation a few feet away. You stood idly by as Nat greeted the pair before your friend finally brought the attention to you.

"Captain America, Falcon, meet the British Bombshell." Nat introduced you, and if you hadn't been so starstruck you might've rolled your eyes at the nickname. "Y/N Y/L/N, meet Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson."

"Captain Rogers, glad you're not still missing in the Potomac." You smiled in a way that you hoped was confident as you shook the super soldier's hand. Your hand shook slightly in his and you knew it caused your usually firm handshake to weaken.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized you should've also greeted his companion but the Captain America was standing in front of you and you suddenly had tunnel vision.

"I thought that was highly classified SHIELD information?"

"Uh, well, I was a high-ranking SHIELD agent before you took it down, sir." You began talking with your hands, something you only did when you were nervous or anxious. "Nat also brought me in for, uh, information on the w-Winter Soldier."

"That was you?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"The 'sir' really isn't necessary." Steve smiled, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I'm just Steve Rogers."

"Right, of course. Sorry." You rushed out an apology, cheeks flushing.

As your conversation fell into silence your brain finally caught up with you and you jumped slightly as you realized how rude you had been.

"I'm so sorry, Sam!" You exclaimed, turning towards the other man. "It's great to meet you."

Throughout your interaction, Natasha had stood to the side, watching with a smirk as her friend stumbled through her words. Nat wasn't sure she had ever seen you this flustered, you were usually very composed and confident.

"Are you okay Agent Y/L/N?" Sam asked softly, clearly noticing your odd behavior despite never having met you before. The part of your brain that was currently failing to inform the rest supposed it was due to his background helping veterans. "Your face is very red and you're shaking."

You quickly placed your hands on your cheeks, immediately feeling the heat coming from them and you blushed even more, embarrassed by how embarrassed you were.

"Oh, Christ," you muttered softly, taking a moment to compose yourself. "I'm alright, thank you for asking, I guess I'm just a little starstruck." You acknowledged honestly, and Steve chuckled lightly while Natasha huffed indignantly.

"That's no fair," Nat whined. "You never act like that when you see me! I'm an Avenger too, y'know!"

Your confidence seemed to be restored slightly by Natasha's entrance into the conversation.

"You've got to be kidding me!" You exclaimed, your turn to be indignant. "I've known you since before you were an Avenger! And I've been learning about Captain America since I was a child!"

"They taught you about World War Two when you were a kid?" Sam interrupted, eyes wide in disbelief.

"No! No, my mom was a history professor." You explained, a mixture of joy and grief in your eyes as you spoke about your mother. "She used to weave history into our bedtime stories, real-life superheroes were kind of an obvious choice for that. I was actually a history major before SHIELD recruited me."

"So I was a bedtime story?" Steve asked curiously, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"A historically accurate bedtime story." You corrected with a smile, your heart still racing but you were finally able to find some composure.

"Agent Y/L/N?" A familiar voice spoke from behind you.

"Agent Barton!" You greeted cheerfully, turning around to greet the man. "How've you been? How are Laura and the kids?"

"You know each other?" Steve questioned, brows furrowed in confusion.

"We worked a few ops together back in the day," Clint explained and you laughed, the missions you shared after your graduated were only the tip of the iceberg.

"I hope you didn't forget all that time at the academy," You smirked.

"Believe me I've tried," Clint groaned. "You guys were my worst nightmare at the academy."

"Wait, I'm sorry, you all went to school together?" Steve asked, seemingly only becoming more confused as the conversation continued. "No offense Clint but aren't you a little too old for that to have happened?"

"Agent Barton used to be an instructor at the Academy," You explained while Clint tried to get over the age comment.

"These two were always doing something stupid or dangerous and Maria was usually a few steps behind trying to stop them," Clint continued, pointing an accusatory finger at you and Natasha.

As the evening progressed you got to know more of the famous Avengers. Unfortunately, you were informed that Thor was off-world at the moment, a fact that bummed you slightly. Though you knew from her time with SHIELD that Thor was merely another alien, you still desperately wanted to meet one of the aliens that inspired Norse mythology. Dr. Banner was much more mellow than you had expected given his big green counterpart, and while he was a pleasant conversationalist, the man was very work-oriented and you noticed he tended to bring up whatever projects he was working on as much as possible.

___

Since meeting the Avengers that day you had grown close with many of them, though you suspected your inclusion in the group was mostly Natasha's doing. Steve, Sam, and Nat began regularly joining you for lunch, something you were honored to be apart of as you could tell the three were quite close. Their close-knit team seemed to have adopted you almost immediately after finding out you had helped with their Winter Soldier hunt. It was nice having that sense of family again, and you continued to treasure it even after rejoining your SHIELD family.

You grew particularly close to Steve, the blond super soldier always willing to indulge your curiosities of the past; very few people asked about what life was like back then, always more interested in the serum and what it was like to be a superhero. You were always taught not to believe everything in your history textbooks, "History is written by the victors," your mom would say, reminding you of how biased the textbooks could be, so you sought out first-hand accounts whenever you could, and Steve Rogers held a wealth of information in his young mind and eidetic memory. Steve found your treatment of him refreshing and eagerly entertained your interests and requests, even offering to take you with him on a trip to D.C. to visit Peggy Carter.

The British agent was one of your favorite topics to ask Steve about. You had grown up idolizing Peggy Carter, learning about everything she did to aid the war effort and further women's' rights in your history classes. Your adoration of the woman only grew when you joined SHIELD and learned everything Carter had done in both the S.S.R. and SHIELD, and now you were even working part-time in the woman's old base. After a few months of retelling story after story about Peggy, Steve came up with the idea to bring you with him to meet her, an offer you readily accepted.

"I cannot believe I'm going to meet Peggy Carter," You said breathlessly, your leg shaking anxiously as you sat across from Steve on one of Stark's private jets. "She is my-"

"Idol," Steve finished for you with a smirk, "That's the third time you've said that today and probably the millionth since I offered to let you come with."

You blushed guiltily, hoping you weren’t annoying the man.

"I really can't thank you enough for bringing me along," you said earnestly, "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Your anxious behaviors persisted through the rest of the hour and fifteen-minute flight; it was short compared to the majority of flights you had been on in your life but it felt like an eternity.

A car was waiting for you when the plane touched down which brought you to the hotel you would be staying at overnight. Steve wasn't a huge fan of airplanes and preferred to limit how much time he spent on them each day so even though this was a brief trip that wouldn't take all day, you’d be flying back to New York tomorrow. Once you had dropped your belongings off in your respective hotel rooms you began the journey to Peggy's retirement home.

Steve had insisted you walk as the hotel was only a few blocks away from the retirement home and you were grateful for the decision. The fresh air and constant movement managed to momentarily quell your anxious energy and the crowded DC streets gave you something else to focus on. Each new person you passed was another threat to asses and while you would usually dismiss this overly paranoid behavior, you excused it today. You was with Captain America after all and Hydra wasn't even close to being destroyed. You both likely had targets on your backs, you rationalized, and so you remained vigilant. If Steve noticed, he didn't say anything, something you were thankful for.

"Hey, Peg, how's my best girl?" Steve asked softly as he walked into the with a clear sense of familiarity before turning back to you, standing awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to intrude, but Steve beckoned you into the room. "I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Steve!" Peggy gasped excitedly when you moved closer. "Did you finally bring your girlfriend?"

Your anxious energy seemed to vanish once you had stepped into the room. It was strange, meeting Peggy wasn't nearly as bad as meeting Steve had been despite Peggy having become something of a role model for you since joining SHIELD. Yet as you observed the grey-haired woman laying in the bed, just having mistaken you for Steve Rogers' girlfriend, you felt oddly at ease.

You couldn't help but giggle at the look of abject horror on Steve's face at the assumption and though Peggy Carter was well into her nineties and Steve had warned you of the woman's Alzheimer's, the former agent seemed to be just as sharp as ever that day as she scrutinized your body language.

"He's been telling me about this woman he likes for months now, but he wouldn't tell me anything about her other than that she's tenacious and they work together." Peggy frowned at Steve with mock irritability.

"Oh, really?" You smiled gleefully at this new information and Steve groaned. "We will definitely be discussing this later, Rogers."

Peggy's ears perked up at your voice and a devilish grin to match yours grew on her face.

"Steven Grant Rogers, you have a type!" She gasped excitedly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"P-pardon me?" Steve stuttered out, clearly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was proceeding between the love of his life and one of his closest friends.

"Tenacious and British," Peggy supplied, grinning at her, incorrect, revelation, and you couldn't help but fan the flames.

"I'm a SHIELD agent too, ma'am." You grinned at Steve's death glare, the supersoldier knowing exactly what you were doing. "Or, well, I was before..." you trailed off mournfully, gesturing off at the distance to convey the disaster that came out of Project Insight, needing to uphold your cover.

Peggy gasped excitedly, grinning at Steve who just groaned again.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Peg," He sighed, glaring at you, "But this ain't my girlfriend. Agent Y/N Y/L/N is a very dear friend of mine and she's been asking me question after question about you for months so I figured it might be nice for the two of you to meet."

"Well, any friend of Steve's is a friend of mine," Peggy smiled, despite her girlfriend theory having been proven wrong. "It's nice to meet you, Agent Y/L/N."

Your heart pounded proudly at that statement. Peggy Carter was glad to meet you and had even insinuated friendship.

"Y/N is fine, ma'am." You said bashfully, your awkwardness apparently choosing now to kick in. "And the pleasure is all mine."

"Peggy is fine, Y/N." The former agent mimicked your correction and you grinned happily.

The three of you chatted amicably for a few hours. Steve and Peggy happily sharing stories about the "good old days," you and Peggy venting about the treatment of women in the workplace, especially within intelligence communities, and discussing more lighthearted topics like the similarities between Tony and Howard Stark. You desperately wanted to talk to Peggy about the new SHIELD, how the organization she founded was still operating in its intended role, how they had renovated her old base, but SHIELD's existence was classified now, especially to Steve Rogers. However, you did manage to slip in an innocuous compliment or two about the old SSR base.

After a while, you excused herself from the room. You knew Steve's time with Peggy was sacred and while you were eternally grateful for the opportunity to be apart of it, you didn't want to monopolize all their time. Instead, you opted to wait outside the building. You had noticed a small park nearby when you and Steve had been walking over and thought it would be a peaceful place to wait. Certainly better than the waiting room of a retirement home.

It was sitting on that park bench that you noticed him. Or rather, that you noticed him again. You knew you had seen the man standing across the street from the retirement home before but you couldn't quite place him. It wasn't until he lifted a gloved hand to tuck a strand of dark hair behind his ear that you realized you had seen him when you and Steve had entered the building hours earlier. At the time you had found the man's use of gloves in such beautiful weather odd, but ultimately dismissed him as innocent enough. Now, however, you weren’t so sure.

What were the odds that the same man would be standing across the street from that very building hours apart?

You knew you were likely being paranoid again, but in your line of work paranoia was called vigilance and so you continued to observe the man. In addition to gloves, the man was wearing a red henley and jeans, an innocent enough choice if it wasn't about seventy-five degrees out. Plus his dark shoulder-length hair was kept down, rather than pulled up into the man-bun style that wasn't uncommon these days. Christ, the man had to be sweating!

You had spent four years at the Academy mastering the art of surveillance, honing your ability to observe without being observed. You were good at it, your instructors had called you natural, but that didn't seem to stop you from being caught that day. It was like the man could sense your gaze, you had only been observing him for a moment when he turned to stare straight at you. You could've sworn your heart stopped when you saw his face.

Even with the baseball cap attempting to obscure it, there was no question in your mind: the Winter Soldier couldn't have been more than fifty feet away from you.

No, you thought, remembering what Steve had said about his final battle with the man, it was Sargent James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th who was staring at you.

You weren’t sure exactly what to do but you felt certain that you needed to make contact. The man had been brainwashed by Hydra for decades and was credited with at least two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years. If there was still any part of Hydra left in his mind he was a potential threat to civilians. You couldn't let him walk away, but if it really was Sargent Barnes in there then you couldn't arrest him either. If Steve was right, then James Barnes hadn't committed any of those crimes and was instead a man lost in time, likely with the weight of the guilt of those crimes. No, you’d have to take matters into your own hands.

You stood slowly, hoping to be able to have a verbal conversation with the man but even from the distance you could see the way he tensed at your action. Instead, you reached into your purse, ignoring the way the man flinched, likely assuming you were reaching for a weapon, and pulled out a pen and an old business card you found shoved in there. You jotted down a small message on the back along with the number of one of your many burner phones before walking back towards the retirement home and pretending to accidentally drop the paper as you went.

You hoped the man got her message, but if not, well, burner phones were meant to be thrown away.

___

a/n: I almost bumped Bucky’s first appearance to the next chapter but figured how to make it fit here. I hope I did Peggy Carter justice. I know realistically that at 95 years old she would probably be a lot different from the way I wrote her but I like the idea that she would be just as sharp and youthful as ever on her good days and even though she likely still feels the same heartbreak as Steve that their chance at happiness together was ripped away, she got a chance to move on and be happy and wants the same for him, hence the girlfriend conversation. Speaking of, any guesses on who Steve’s coworker crush is?

Also, I know that canonically Nat and a lot of other agents didn’t go to the Academy but for all intents and purposes of this fic every potential SHIELD agent has to go to the Academy before entering the field.

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