1963-07-11 - No Light Duty
Summary: Peggy finally gets unexpected news in regards to her health.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
poindexter peggy sousa 

SHIELD Medical. One of the side rooms. The farthest, deepest back room possible, actually. Because Peggy didn't need ANY of this getting out. But, of course, it had gotten out. The SHIELD rumor mill was worse than the hairdressers. It'd gone from Peggy looking a bit sick with the first nurse, to the question of the director having been poisoned by one of the incoming Nazis, to the fact that the back door was locked because she was dying. The fact that she's not in her office at 11 am on a Monday actually might lend some evidence to the fact that she was dying. Peggy never left her desk this early in a day. So, who knows which part of the rumor reached Daniel's ears, but he's gotten more than one sorry look over the last 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, of course, it's not near so bad inside the room. It's just… Awkward. Peggy sits on the edge of the bed, initial exams finished, in one of those awful gowns and trying not to look like she feels naked. Somehow, she's managing to pull off calm and noble, even in a paper thin gown waiting for the most awkward of answers. It's also at this point that there is *no* denying the response to the tests. The rabbit is in heat. Other exams all point to, well… The director is pregnant. In her 40s and pregnant. Sometimes good health was a curse. It's just a matter of how Poindexter decides to TELL the woman that. Dark eyes drill quietly into the back of Dr. Pinkerton's shoulders. It's like a standoff of awkwardness.



The tug of the examination gloves gives way to the completion of the examination. Annamena picking up her chart, the expression unreadable as she settles down upon the stool. It was meticulous, so much so that everything was done deliberately and carefully. Her foot pressing upon the little pump, which is nudged three times, which boosts her in the air three inches. One hand lifts, and pushes her hair away from her forehead as her feet slide towards the ground.. which doesn't reach.. which has her lifting up a handle upon the other side of the stool to lower it three paces again.

Foot pressing to the ground, she drags herself to the counter top, which was a little too high. Which has her foot pressing upon the pump again, pushing it three times, which boosts her in the air three times. The chart was set down, her glasses soon moved up to rest atop of her head as she quietly begins to write. To say that Dr. Pinkerton didn't have any bedside manners.. was true.

"Oh. Sorry Director. You can get dressed now."


By the fourth or fifth 'sorry' look he's gotten this morning, Daniel has decided to seek out some answers. Most often he figures that it's a result of someone finding out he's married to the Director or someone found out that his right leg is a fake. But that many requires investigation.

Like any good Division Head, he sends one of his 'top agents', his secretary, Hildie, to do the snooping and get the gossip that obviously isn't coming to him. When she comes back with a concerned look and the news 'Dirctor Carter went to Medical," she's told to 'take messages and hold his appointments' as he books it towards the Medical wing.

He's started wearing his new 'leg' around the office and with only a cane as support, he's able to get around a little faster than before. It's no run, but it might be as close as he can get without losing his balance. Bursting into the wing, he demands to know where Carter is, much to the chagrin of the nurse at the front. Reluctantly she points out the far, locked room, and, after trying the door once, he pounds on it, "Peggy Carter, if you're in there, you had better not be dead or I'm going to kill you myself!"

Oh, the rumor mill."


The lack of any screaming congratulations makes Peggy's stomach drop. The woman is quiet. Too quiet. Was she *always* this quiet? Maybe she was actually dying, and here she was cursing celebrations with her husband and now the room is quiet as death and Peggy is trying not to panic but she's never really been a woman who considered herself mortal, so the concept she might be is a bit terrifying. "Dressed. Ah… thank you." Peggy's clipped accent offers simply, voice clear, calm, professional. Put together in every way.

She's just slipping down off the high table (why do they make these thing so damn high, there is no way to be graceful coming off of them!) when that pounding comes at the door. Her eyes widen, well recognizing her husband's voice. "Daniel…what in bloody blazes…" She mutters and, instead of going to grab at her suit skirt and stockings, she marches over to the door, holding the back of her gown together with one hand unceremoniously and tugging open the lock as she stares at him hard. "Not dead. God. Now the whole office really IS going to be talking." She leaves the door open as she turns around and stalks back into the room, implicit invitation that he can come in, but not even thinking of making introductions. It's the last thing on her mind, really.


Yup, Poindexter was finishing her notes. Despite the sensitivity class she managed to pass (though not without it's threats), she still retains that logical coldness that nearly causes her to forget that Peggy was in the room.

Know what reminded her? Sousa!

The banging on the door receives a cut of her eyes, her hands pushing away at the tall desk to allow her to slide and turn, hopping down from the stool to meet the good Division Director at the door with a stoic look. "Well, that was unbecoming of you." Dr. Pinkerton mutters, her hands placed behind her back as she closes the door once Mr. Sousa enters. "Next time.." Because there will be many, given the news.. "..please show a little decorum? If one of the higher ups are allowed to barge into a patients room then that would seem that anyone else could." She frowns. "It's horrible enough that it's -nearly- hard to get a little respect without a funny told look because I lack the proper genitals." She smiles, a smile that's too wide for a situation like this.

"Now, if my patient agrees, I shall discuss the results with you both. If not, I will ask you to leave so the session could continue."

What a dick.


"It's bad enough the office is whispering about you being poisoned in Geneva and that the Nazis are going to kill us all," Daniel limps into the room and takes one of the seats there. He then looks to Poindexter, "Are you telling me that I don't have a right to know if my -wife- is ill or injured?" He rarely plays that card, especially at work, but it seemed needed, especially in regards to the attitude from the young doctor. She's not just any patient to him.

"You can try to kick me out, but you'll have to physically throw me out." He's staying put. He even leans his cane against the chair he's chosen. See? Not going anywhere.

There is a reason why their daughter can be a handful — she inherited stubbornness from the both of them.


While Peggy looked annoyed more than anything, Daniel knows her well enough to see the tiniest crack of something beneath the surface - scared. She was scared. It made her annoyance worse as anger was always easier than fear. She looks between the two, about to say something as the doctor sets down her rules and then Daniel sets down his own, but her husband's stubborn comment about needing to be thrown out actually makes her smile. Just a bit, but it's a tender, warmer thing than even the doctor has seen from her yet. If there was any doubt they loved each other, it'd be gone from the simple look she gives him.

"…He can stay, Dr. Pinkerton. And anyone who gives you a look like that… woman or not, you tell me. This office is an equal work force. I *will* handle it." And there is Peggy's scary. Chances are the next person who gives Poindexter such a look is going to be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush, or worse. She then sighs and leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Daniel's mouth before she finally moves back to the little chair where her suit was. "… ANd… I do not think I was poisoned in Geneva, but… I guess that's for the doctor to actually say. So, Doctor, how… bad is it?" Peggy asks flatly, that professional clip returning to her voice even as she slips out of that gown and tugs on the short, black silk slip she was wearing beneath her suit today. Her skirt is next.


"Actually. While husbands do tend to impose upon the doctor to learn what their wives are speaking about with an extra bit of money in the doctors pockets.. you have that right. However, when I am in charge, you do not. Her privacy and well being are my utmost concern and your misbehaviour was not conducive to her situation. Just because you are her husband does not give you the right to act like a child."

Now, when the prospect of moving him presents itself, there was a slight dilation to her eyes that only a few could detect. Her fingers curl, bones nearly cracking.. her shoulders lifting with a slight hunch until a breath was heard and a really, really grand smile was taken on! "Apparently that won't be necessary!"

Poindexter bounds to the door with a happy gate, her ponytail swinging (she ironed her hair, shut up), hands reaching out to press the lock into place as she turns around to hug the files to her chest. "Alright." She looks to the two lovers, a slight little fondness in her eyes. "Perhaps you should sit down for this, Mrs. Carter-Sousa." Best be polite and use both names, right? After and if Peggy has sat down, Pinkerton would approach her, the huge smile drawing upon her face, her hand hesitantly.. awkwardly reaching out to try to pat the woman upon the hand. But.. she really couldn't bring herself to do it.

"You are withchild." Boom. Mic drop.

And.. that hand again, hesitating.. cringing and curling as her nose wrinkles. "Ah.. I'm sorry."


Sousa turns to Peggy, "Is this another one of your 'I feel empathetic towards strong women in traditional men's jobs' hires? Because, woman or not, I don't appreciate being spoken to like that." Maybe he did throw a tantrum, but he turns to the doctor now, still in the chair, "Doctor…I don't know if you're married or not, but if you found out a loved one was rushed into a Medical Facility, wouldn't you want to know what was going on?"

When Peggy sits down, he reaches out to take her hand. No matter what it is, he'll be there. For Better or for Worse, for Richer or for Poorer, in Sickness and in Health…

"I'm sorry, what?"


Well, she was half dressed, especially when the woman tells her than she should sit. Peggy isn't exactly good at taking orders, but she did have a certain respect for Poindexter, even if Daniel might nail exactly WHY in that comment. She smirks at her husband, "I did not hire her. And I like her anyway. She's excellent at her job. And I wasn't rushed here. Everyone likes to talk around the damn coffee maker." Peggy half growls, half grumbles, that moody anger in her voice still a good reflection of the fact that she's not comfortable about this entire visit at all.

Sitting. She's sitting. And the doctor has s smile on her face that looks like she might be sick. "…Doctor, you don't have to… smile… like that…" It was clearly not natural. The woman's cheeks were about to crack! But then, the news comes, and it was the best news of all the possibilities, but also possibly the most frightening. Peggy just blinks, staring quietly, trying to process.

"…Ah. Noted." Well, at least she heard the woman. Even if her brain is trying to catch up with everything else.


"I'm not married." Poindexter nearly shoots out ashamedly. That comment grabbed her, grabbed her so much that the smile was put upon her face again, even after the awkward news was given. She was a trooper, a champ they would say! Her parents.. that is. No one else could handle that overly happy and badly placed smile.

"But I would approach with caution and respect to the other patients and doctors on the floor." She draws in a breath, then finally addresses the elephant in the room. But first..

"Excuse me."

She moves over towards the drawer, pulling out a clean napkin to lay it atop, her hand sinking in again to retrieve a small capsule like container to crack open with her fingers. They would know that it was smelling salts. SHIELD standard, used in the field most often.

With that preparation made, she drags her stool to sit in between them, a little hop and a splat atop of it, foot catching the rungs to keep her steady. "Well, Division Director Sousa," Proper title! Maybe? "Director Carter is pregnant with your child. When she first approach me with her concerns she made it clear that you both enjoy the pleasures that are carnal." Awkward. "It was only a deduction then, at the Geneva convention she ate more than normally, compared to her previous departure, the cold and frightening demeanor though I tend to think that it's normal for her.." Anna looks on towards Peggy.. thoughtful.

"Restlessness, tiredness. I am unsure if she's experienced sickness. And the fact that subtly she is getting a little bit round in the facial area that is not pertaining to her current age."

Her expression turns solemn then. "Which brings us to our next issue." Awkward is as awkward does as she lifts her hand to lay atop of both of theirs. It was quick! Not comforting at all. So much that Anna draws her hand away before reprimand to rub her fingers slightly against her labcoat.

"Given the age of the patie-.. Peggy, there are things that need to be set in place so that she could carry the fetus succ.. baby, successfully."


Sousa looks sharply at Peggy as the doctor discusses their intimate life, "You told her about this?" is murmured before he looks back to the doctor herself. At least she seems to think he understands how that could have happened — for a moment there he thought he was going to get an 'educational lecture'. "It's better than being poisoned," but his own dark eyes are on Peggy.

This timing isn't great.

"How far along? I mean, how much time do we have to prepare?" Get the Nazis settled and dealt with.


"…Doctor, I suggest if you like the sterile nature of your exam room, and your shoes, you keep those salts away from me." Peggy states flatly, like she was stating simple, scientific fact, and not just settling into place why the cigarettes around the office turned her stomach more than usual — not to mention Campbell's cologne he was so damn fond of wearing. She sits up a bit straighter, taking in a deep breath and pushing one hand back through her hair, as if she could straighten herself up and take this all in simple, calm stride. They should be laughing right now. Cheering. Happy. Neither of them was there quite yet, though. Her hand reaches out, however, slipping fingertips between Daniel's and giving the quietest, most gently reassuring of squeezes. "She's my doctor and we're married. I don't exactly think I needed to *tell* her, darling…" Peggy states with a half smirk, but it drops away a second later.

"…Yes, doctor, I am old. I get that. My mirror reminds me every morning. Just… tell me what we have to do to make certain things are… safe, and I can get back to work." Well, some decisions made there. Not even a question of how to get rid of things, even if that's always an unspoken thing in the air with professional women. Peggy plans to handle it as smoothly and professionally as anything else.

Daniel's question earns him a bit of a smirk, "…when did you get that new leg of yours, dear? Six weeks now? I do remember some celebrating…" She squeezes his hand again, though the crack of a smile at the corner of her lips is more than teasing this time. See, they can be lighthearted about this


"I -am- an adult." Man, Pinkerton was getting hit from the Sousa side, hard enough for her to become self conscious. But the salts remained where they were, no one was fainting this day, but she was going to keep it for safety. Even if she was puked upon.

"I'd like to say about.. six weeks.. yes.." She nods towards Peggy, an aha moment coming on to her as she slides her stool to remain more in tune with Sousa. The doctor that she was, she touches first without asking, her hand reaching out to nudge a little at his left knee, and then the right. She will be slapped for this, to be sure.

"I would like to say that you need to avoid stressful situations until we're at the four month mark but I am highly sure that you're likely to go against my words and get involved either way. But I would request that you allow your husband and Agent Fury to take your burdens." She smiles a little.

"A healthy diet, less fried foods, drink plenty of water and avoid your caffienated beverages. Each month I'd like you to see me to check the progress of the fetus. Once you hit that six month mark every two weeks, I'd need to examine you and run a battery of tests. At your age, there is a chance that the child will be mentally retardant."

Blunt, but there it was.

"With that said, Mr. Sousa. I would like for you to have your new leg refitted. Possibly with a little extra padding. You do not look comfortable to me."


"You're not old," Daniel insists, his own fingers gripping Peggy's in a gentle squeeze, but he knows what she's asking. They started a family late due to careers. When Peggy mentions a timeline, his eyes widen and he covers his hand with his mouth. "We sure did…" is mumbled through his fingers.

Hoo boy. Another kid. Mickey will either be thrilled or insanely jealous. Maybe a little of both.

There's a deep breath that's then let out as he prepares to listen to the instructions, but the brief, tactile inspection of his legs causes him to straighten and look sharply to the doctor. His left leg feels normal but the right is clearly made out of metal…yet it's bending pretty well.

Dark eyes flicker to Peggy before he pulls up the leg of his pants some to reveal what seems to be a metal mechanical boot with his choice of shoe at the end. "Talk to Howard Stark. He's the one who made it. Of course I'm not comfortable," but he's sacrificing some comfort for mobility. The pants leg is dropped as is the subject of his leg.

He goes back to watching Peggy to see her response to the instructions given. The healthier diet and water shouldn't be an issue. Some of the other though…


It was a lot to take in, even if Peggy was managing it mostly with finesse. She frowns at the woman's inspecting of Daniel's leg, but doesn't interfere. She's mostly gotten over the need to try and fight her husband's battles for him. She just tightens her hold on his hand as he mentions Howard Stark, and leaves it there otherwise.

The comment about *allowing* men to take her burdens does, actually, gain a slight narrowing of her eyes. Peggy drags in a slow breath and forces herself not to snap at the woman, but she does stand then, pulling on her shirt and suit jacket quicker than even before. She didn't want trapped in this room any longer. "I can handle the food. Even… give up tea… Mostly. But I'm not stepping away from work here when SHIELD needs *all* of us more than ever. We managed the first time around, we'll manage again. This will be fine. Thank you for the news, Doctor. We should both be getting back to work." She then turns for the door, but realizes Daniel is still there, probably a bit in shock at his wife's abrupt LEAVING. "Come on, Daniel. We need to finalize those schedules." And then she is out the door. Not another word. Pure business. She had no more time to dwell on it.


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