Brother Avengers

Brother Avengers Chapter 10

"A sympathetic friend can be quite as dear as a brother."
-Homer

"So..." Steve murmured. "What have you been up to, Peggy?"

Half an hour had passed in complete silence before he could summon enough strength to ask that question. Now, he sat in a chair across from her, their knees touching, their hands clasped, his head bowed low. He felt Peggy take a breath, and straighten a little.

"Well..." she began. "I...helped the Allies and the division throughout the rest of the war, taking out pockets of Hydra resistance..." She paused, then laughed lightly. "Sounds so odd to talk about it—I haven't thought of it for years..."

Steve swallowed, closing his eyes. Her voice sounded almost the same. Just a little ragged around the edges, but still bearing that proper British clip, even when quiet. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine she looked the same as he remembered, too...

"When the war was over, I stayed in the Army, helping rebuild after the damage the Axis Powers had done. I also worked with several others, like Howard Stark and a few other exceptional men, to lay the foundations for something they were going to call the Strategic Homeland Intelligence...something or other," she sighed.

"Really..." Steve murmured, half smiling.

"Yes. And I...I got married."

He opened his eyes. He gazed down at their hands—one pair so strong and smooth, the other pair arthritic and fragile—and at the simple gold band on her left hand. He lifted his head, and met her eyes.

She was waiting, hesitating. And he waited too—for the ton of bricks to land on his chest. But they didn't. So he risked taking a deep breath. It came. So he nodded. Peggy shifted.

"To an old friend of yours, actually," she said. "Montgomery Falsworth."

A reflexive smile found its way across Steve's face—and surprisingly, it stayed.

"Monty?" he said. "So he...He survived?"

"Oh, yes," Peggy smiled wryly, her gaze twinkling. She turned her attention to their hands. Steve's smile faded, and he watched her.

"Any kids?" he asked.

"No," Peggy sighed, shaking her head. "Just didn't seem to work out." She went silent, then put on a gentle smile and glanced up at him. "He died fifteen years ago."

Steve's next question just fell out of his mouth. But once it was in the open air, he didn't regret it.

"You loved him?"

Peggy's smile became even gentler—and earnest.

"Yes," she murmured. She tilted her head, and her eyebrows came together. "Does that upset you?"

"No. No, of course not," Steve said quickly, shaking his head. "He's...He was a good man. I'm glad. I'm glad you didn't wait for me."

"I did wait for you," she cut in. Steve blinked.

"You did?"

She nodded.

"I had a permanent position here in New York, and every Saturday night I came here, to the Stork Club. Eight o'clock on the dot."

Steve's throat closed and he couldn't move. But her brown eyes held him captive. She shrugged one shoulder.

"It was actually how I became re-acquainted with Monty," she went on. "When he was on leave, he discovered that I came here, and he found me. I expected him to try to dissuade me from my ritual, calling it foolish hoping. But he didn't." That gentle, sad smile returned. "He sat down with me, had a pint and chatted with me about the old days—and about you. And we did that every time he was on leave, until..." She shrugged again.