Chapter 42 : It always starts with a training montage (Second wind)

 

Mount Sinai Hospital’s Care for the elderly ward, Mount Sinai Hospital, 1468 Madison Avenue, Manhattan, New York, 26th of January, 23:24

 

As I’m standing next to the peacefully slumbering form of one Peggy Carter, age eighty-five, old and frail in her hospital bed, I may be slightly freaking out about what I’m going to unleash.

 

Director Nick Fury had, of course, insisted to be present, and I have no doubt the guy is still readying himself for any eventual betrayal of his trust on my part.

 

Who am I kidding ? With how much anxiety is currently rumbling through good ol’ one eye’s mind, I do in fact know about it.

 

“How the mighty have fallen.” I softly whisper to myself as I take in the full picture of another Alzheimer's victim.

 

In a previous life, I had lost a grandmother to it. It hadn’t been pretty and it had made me strongly reconsider my stance about voluntary euthanasia for people suffering incurable diseases.

 

Fury doesn’t say a word about my non sequitur, but I can feel in his mind that it pains him to watch his mentor reduced to that wretchful state.

 

No matter.

 

I’m here now.

 

“Would you happen to know where I could find another catheter and a clean tube, Mr. Director?” I ask, turning myself slightly to face him.

 

The sharp intake of breath he takes as he gaze once again on Iris and I’s Alabaster Battleform’s face helps a lot to dissipate my rather gloomy mood.

 

I think I’m going to have a lot of fun unnerving everyone with it. Worth every second of enduring the feeling of being smothered by full plate armor in my opinion.

 

And Iris too apparently, since she’s mentally snickering her ass off at Nick’s expense.

 

He gestures wordlessly toward the door leading outside of the room.

 

The one we didn’t use because I previously teleported the both of us in to avoid notice. I may be blasting my notice-me-not aura at full tilt around us, but I’d rather not take any risk.

 

For now, anonymity is the name of the game.

 

I wordlessly nod.

 

“Would you please find us some, Director?” I gesture lazily at my guise, “I’m afraid that I am rather conspicuous right now.”

 

Fury frowns.

 

“I’d rather not let you be alone with Director Carter.” He points out icily.

 

Under my mask, I blink while Iris mentally groans in annoyance.

 

“If I wanted her dead, Director Fury, I would just let her illness do its job.” I drawl.

 

Fury scowls even harder and with a muttered ‘be right back’ stomps his way outside.

 

As the door opens, I renew my effort with the security system to make it so the both of us aren’t noticed, especially him now that he is outside.

 

My eyes land once again on Peggy’s face as she snore softly.

 

The years had neither been kind nor outright despicable with her, her wrinkled face alluding to a now forgotten beauty. She is pale as a ghost and just as thin under the sleeves of her pale blue nightgown.

 

Neither Iris nor I are confident that she will regain access to the full extent of her memories, but she assures me that my blood will be able to rid her of her disease.

 

When I saw it behave the way it did yesterday, with the ‘flowing back toward your injury to seal it’ experience, I had asked Iris what she thought about it.

 

Her verdict made me rather proud of myself for telling my symbiotic half to change my blood type to the universal O.

 

In the mess of errors in my genecode, I had apparently forcibly awoken the part of it that gave dear Warren his giftable healing factor the giftable part.

 

My blood is a freakin panacea, which has prompted me to take that most recent course of action.

 

Fury needs all the help he could get to root out HYDRA from SHIELD, and an early access to Captain Steve Rogers helped by his paramour, and accessorily Nick’s mentor, would go a long way to make the situation less crappy than it could become.

 

The fact that I was a sucker for romantic love stories had absolutely no impact on my decision to bring back Peggy at her peak.

 

I swear.

 

Ok, maybe a little.

 

Not a moment later, the door opened with a mighty shove as Fury made his way back inside Peggy’s room.

 

Without a word, he throws me the tube and catheter that I need, a flicker of my telepathy bringing them both to me at a more sedate pace without me even acknowledging his aggressivity.

 

I let it slide, the guy is stressed out of his mind and has barely slept for seventy-two hours.

 

“A little help, sister of mine ?” I kindly mentally ask Iris as I gently pull Peggy’s blankets off with the help of my TK, exposing her own catheter.

 

“[Agreement, anticipation] : Of course, blood-sister.” She readily answer.

 

On the inside of my right forearm, hidden behind my ‘modesty and protective wings’, a little bit of the feathers recedes.

 

For a brief instant, Iris and I’s minds align so she can guide me where I must stab the catheter in my artery. Surrounding the needle-like point with our touch-TK for good measure, it doesn’t take that long before the deed is done.

 

Momentarily stopping the blood flow with another flourish of touch-TK as our fused state recess, I connect it to the tube proper.

 

As I’m intently watching the scarlet liquid gently churning in the still levitating plastic tube, Fury interrupts my thoughts.

 

“Why ?” He mumbles under his breath, and a flicker of my attention toward his unshielded thoughts tells me that he still doesn’t quite understand why I’m bringing her back.

 

“Do you know why Director Peggy Carter never married in her life ?” I ask conversationally as I connect the now filled tube to Peggy’s own catheter.

 

I instantly relax the last paper thin film of touch-TK I had blocking the flow and my panacea-like blood starts to flow into Peggy's bloodstream.

 

“No, I…” Fury hesitates, not really seeing my point, “It was common knowledge when she was still working that it was a sore spot better left alone.”

 

With an immense sense of relief and satisfaction, I watch Peggy’s wrinkles starting to recede.

 

I knew that it was supposed to work, but it is fundamentally different with being absolutely certain that it would.

 

“Well, keep it for yourself, but young Peggy Carter fell in love with Captain Steve Rogers when they served together during World War Two.” I answer mildly.

 

Turning myself to face his expression which is now properly befuddled, I carry on.

 

“And the good Captain had promised young Peggy a date before he went to his last mission.” I answer, my mask distorting in a soft smile.

 

For once, too busy reeling from my revelation, Nick Fury isn’t scared shitless by my inhuman displays.

 

“The both of them still carry a torch for each other.” I say softly, “Wouldn’t you find it criminal to bring back one without the other ? I think they earned as much.”

 

A twinge of sadness flashing in his good eye and full of a newfound respect for his mentor, Fury goes back to watch her rapidly deaging form.

 

As my eyes turn back toward Peggy Carter, her hair now noticeably more auburn than before, Iris mentally hugs me, feelings of [Love, care] flowing through our mind-link.

 

After all, I can’t really help it if I find myself a little distraught at the possibility of bringing back together two estranged souls while I cannot do the same for myself.

 

***

Mount Sinai Hospital’s Care for the elderly ward, Mount Sinai Hospital, 1468 Madison Avenue, Manhattan, New York, the same day, 23:41, in Peggy Carter’s mind.

 

Peggy’s eyelids fluttered as she awoke, a hand coming to shield her eyes from the painfully too bright lights as she let a hiss escape her lips.

 

The too brusque movement due to the sudden absence of the pains that had plagued her joints for years pulled at the alien sensation of something being jabbed in her arm and she couldn’t stop herself from emitting a low whimper.

 

“Director Carter ! I…” Someone said next to her in a rather distinctive male voice as the sounds of shuffling steps were heard.

 

“Let her get her bearings.” A rich alto of a voice tempered the reaction, interrupting the former.

 

An interruption Peggy was grateful for, because she hadn’t had a headache this bad in decades if her memory was right.

 

Eyes still closed, Peggy realized that her breath was slow and even, something that hadn’t happened since she lost part of her right lung in the sixties due to a bullet wound.

 

Alright, something fucky was going on.

 

And this time she was pretty sure it wasn’t due to her overindulging on Stark’s whiskey.

 

Tired of laying onto a rather shitty bed, the trademark of either a hospital or a military camp for sure, Peggy went to slowly sit herself, eyes remaining close for the moment.

 

Contrary to what she had expected, none of her movements eliscited any pain.

 

Granted, she was moving with care, after at least a good decade of conditioning had forced her to do so, but the fact remained unnerving.

 

Alright, something really fucky was going on.

 

Peggy wasn’t liking it one bit.

 

Slowly she opened her eyes, her headache starting to recede.

 

Half-lidded eyes roaming the room, she rapidly took note of a few things.

 

First, she indeed was in a hospital. The piece reeked of disinfectant and the distinctive yet unpleasant smell of unwashed bodies. Peggy wasn’t able to make either head or tail of the different devices that surrounded her, but she was fairly certain that the rather slim screen she could see on the wall was a TV.

 

Secondly, there were two other people in the room, albeit the fact that the second one belonged to her definition of people was up in the air.

 

Hell, without the fact that the wings of the being, which looked like they were carved from alabaster, moved, she would have thought that they were a statue. But no, the wings indeed moved, without rhyme nor reason, and Peggy and her were apparently tied with the apparatus needed for a blood-transfusion.

 

Chalking up the sight for later, her attention turned toward the other person.

 

Tall and bald, from african descent, wearing all black and a leather trench coat. A three days’ shadows on his face, with heavy eye bags under his eyes.

 

Peggy blinked.

 

“Fury ?” Peggy blurted out, and when his face lit up at her recognition she couldn’t help herself from blurting out, “God, you look like shit. And older.”

 

From her left side, the winged being let something that suspiciously sounded like a chuckle escape her unmoving lips, perpetually frozen in a kind and soft smile as they were.

 

Fury looked taken aback for a second, looking betrayed, before he turned his growing scowl toward the being.

 

“It is possible that her memories have been damaged, Director Fury.” The being answered in her rich alto, “I treated her from the causes, not the consequences of her illness.”

 

“But…” Fury started, but Peggy was having none of it.

 

“Sit rep, what the hell happened?” She asked in a no-nonsense tone.

 

The being turned herself to her, and under Peggy’s widening eyes, the catheter that was sitting in her arm ripped out by itself.

 

Belatedly, Peggy Carter noticed that the little spot on her arm where it had been lodged previously closed up by itself, and that she was also wearing the most awful pale blue nightgown she had ever seen.

 

If she had been in her eighties, alright, but…

 

Peggy blinked.

 

How old was she exactly ?

 

“May I explain, ex-Director Peggy Carter ?” The being asked, and Peggy’s eyes landed on her own white unmoving orbs.

 

Freaky.

 

With a wordless nod as her only prompt for a go ahead, the being continued.

 

“Today is the 26th of January 2007.” The being started, mouth unmoving, “When you passed on the mantle to acting Director Nick Fury in the early 21st century, you retired. Not long after, you found yourself stricken with Alzheimer's and slowly started to lose your grasp on reality.”

 

Peggy’s mouth was agape at the being’s tale.

 

Eighty-five years old???

 

But I haven't felt this good since my sixties!

 

Her eyes landing on her arms, Peggy realized what she hadn’t noticed before.

 

Her skin was spotless, old scars and the marring of old age having vanished.

 

One of her auburn locks fell in her peripheral vision.

 

I had fucking gray hair since the seventies !

 

What the hell ?

 

Apparently answering her unasked question, the being explained.

 

“Sadly, there wasn’t any cure available to help you.” The winged being continued, “Until I went to acting Director Fury with a proposal earlier this evening.”

 

A discreet look toward her bosom confirming that, yes, her breasts weren’t sagging anymore, Peggy’s attention turned toward her old pupil.

 

“What the hell ?” She asked, still dazzled.

 

Fury’s face turned shameful as his eyes shifted.

 

Nick acting bashful ?

 

“What the hell is going on ?” Peggy asked, her attention darting back toward the winged being since she at least seemed in control of her emotions.

 

“The squids are back, Ms. Carter.” She answered bluntly and Peggy scowled, “Worse, they have infiltrated almost every strata of SHIELD and are brewing something dire.”

 

Schooling her expression so as to keep the rising anger she was feeling from showing, Peggy asked with her teeth clenched.

 

“And why, pray tell, that has something to do with me ?” She clipped.

 

“Because no one else in America has as much experience fishing them than you, Ms. Carter.” The winged being lazily answered.

 

Peggy snorted.

 

“Point taken.” She drawled, looking back to her old associate, “Feeling that you were way over your head or a lack of personnel?”

 

“Both, Ma’am.” Fury answered, his expression stony once more and hands clasped behind his back, “The rot is deeper than I would have ever imagined and I only discovered it due to a tip two days ago.”

 

Peggy nodded once.

 

“A tip?” She asked.

 

“From me, by proxy.” The winged being answered in his stead and Peggy’s attention turned back to her, “I was hoping that my suspicions were wrong, but the records apparently confirmed it.”

 

Peggy’s eyes closed as she silently mouthed ‘fuck’.

 

It wasn’t in her habits to swear that much, but she was starting to think that the situation deserved it.

 

“We were hoping that you would rise to the challenge once more.” The being continued, “Hence the rejuvenating treatment you were subjected to. I'm sorry if we chose to do it without your consent, but we had no other choice.”

 

Rejuvenating treatment ?

 

“Let me see.” Peggy clipped, her voice tinged with dread despite her best intention.

 

“Of course.” The being answered and Peggy’s covers were silently pulled back as she indicated with her hand a door in the room, “That should be the bathroom. You’ll find a mirror in it.”

 

Without a word, Peggy bolted for it, finagling with the light for a moment until they turned on without her doing.

 

Peggy blinked.

 

Wordlessly, she stepped closed to the mirror, wide eyed, and touched it.

 

In front of her, her reflection was showing what was undoubtedly her mid-twenty self. Arms and torso once again filled with muscles, her auburn hair curling artfully around her unwrinkled face and her eyes filled with life once more.

 

Peggy stayed there for a while, mouth agape, until the being silently drifted in the room behind her.

 

“I may have a piece of news that will ease the situation, Ms. Carter.” She said while gesturing.

 

Peggy turned herself back to her at the same time as a device floated toward the winged being.

 

The being held it in front of her, an image of the arctic seas showing. A beat and a few filters dancing on the screen later and Peggy was looking at the silhouette of a partially destroyed wreckage.

 

“What ?” Peggy whispered under her breath.

 

Another filter later, two thermal signatures were now visible in the silhouette of the wreckage.

 

Peggy’s eyes bulged once again, her attention snapping back toward the being.

 

“The little one,” The being helpfully pointed out, “Would be the Tesseract the Doctor Zola worked upon to design Red Skull’s weapon.”

 

Peggy’s mouth started to hang open, a long lost hope filling her.

 

“As for the bigger one just shy of the ice’s temperature, that would be a rather late dancing partner.” The being said, her smile growing kind amid her otherwise unmoving face, “Still alive albeit sleeping. An extremely convenient fact since you’ll be able to slap him yourself for making you wait all those years.”

 

Peggy’s mouth flapped open a few times as a lone tear started to fall on her cheek.

 

Closing her eyes once again, she exhaled slowly.

 

Peggy took a deep, deep breath, shelving the churning of emotions in her mind for later.

 

“Side effects ?” She asked, still wrapping her head around the fact that she looked like her old self once more and that her self-sacrificing idiot of a hero was still alive.

 

“You’ll have holes in your supposedly more recent memories.” The being answered clinically, “You’ll possibly have to reacclimate yourself with the current level of technology, but that should be it. Nothing too bothersome, really.”

 

Peggy wordlessy nodded, her eyes snapping open once more toward the being that looked like carved from alabaster.

 

“And your name, Miss ?” She asked intently.

 

The winged being may had brought her both good and dire news in equal measure and granted her a new lease on life, but she was Peggy fucking Carter, and it would be a cold day in hell before she let those details wreck her composure longer than necessary.

 

The being smiled, and it wasn’t something kind this time.

 

No, it was downright predatory.

 

“You’ll have to forgive me for hiding my true identity, but for our future dealings…” The being answered, and suddenly her voice was two-toned, a rich alto like caramel flowing in your ears and a crystalline voice evoking the stars above seamlessly mingling, “You may call us Simurgh.”

 

Despite herself and her best judgment, Peggy didn’t manage to hide the vicious grin that deformed her own mouth.

 

I’m back squidies !

 

And my friends are definitely way scarier than yours !

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