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Midtown, midday, it's always crowded. Heather is on her way out for another set of interviews and is seriously considering a trip to the library to check out some books — her intern, who never materialized — was supposed to take over some of her research. Now, she's doing two jobs for a project that's looking increasingly like it's just going to get shelved, and that's if the government doesn't use it to pretend they care and then shelve it.
Some days, she would give anything to be back in Alberta, trying to separate Paul and Walter for the twenty-third time that day. Getting between a pair of angry mutants seems like it would be a pleasant change. As it is, she nearly runs into some poor woman who's just stepped out of a car and up onto the curb.
"I'm so sorry!" For a moment, Heather's Canadian nature slips through. She still doesn't have the hang of New York and its complete lack of apologies. "Totally my fault."
*
Peggy didn't exactly *want* to spend her lunch hour shopping, but the top button her slacks officially blew about 10 am and while a safety pin works for the morning, she had an important meeting this afternoon. She was going to have to break down and accept it, she needed new clothing. So, she grabbed a taxi into midtown, muttering something about a lunch meeting to the front desk, and here she is. Of course, her mind is going on about two dozen other things so, despite her general awareness, Heather actually gets within a foot of running into Peggy.
But only a foot. Peggy might be middle aged and knocked up, but she's still damn fast and trained. She steps back with motions which are too practiced and combat ready to be your usual secretary, especially with her fingertips instinctively slipping towards the gun under her shoulder. The immediate response of being nearly run into dies a heartbeat later, however, as the woman apologizes and seems genuinely startled as well. Peggy stands down from the more combat ready position, dark eyes flickering fast over the woman. "…No, no… it is alright. Just… watch where you are going." Peggy warns, British accent just a bit touched by breath from the adrenaline kicking in.
*
Heather recognizes the posture, and the woman, and laughs. That's a familiar feeling for her.
"Peggy? Now I really am sorry." Heather offers a hand in greeting and apology. "We met ages ago, in Canada. Heather MacNeil. Alpha Flight. Or, I was. And here I am running you down, years later."
She doesn't look much different. Thirty isn't that far from twenty-something, even a far too young twenty-something, in the grand scheme of things. She's dressed like an office girl, albeit a very classy one, now instead of her previous attire of practical clothing for whatever occasion awaited her.
*
A double take is given to the younger woman and Peggy blinks, the moment the rest of the words come, and Canada is mentioned, Peggy actually says the name pretty much the same time as Heather: "Heather MacNeil!" Yes, she does remember. She might be middle aged, have several more grays in her hair and a few wrinkles around her eyes, but her mind is sharp as ever. She really relaxes off her guard after that, letting out a short breath.
"My goodness…what are you doing all the way down here? Alpha Flight is still running, isn't it? I can't imagine how they run without you." Peggy confesses, almost envious of an organization that has such a solid back bone of an administrator and an agent.
Peggy herself isn't looking that different. Definitely older. Definitely… softer around the edges, especially with those slacks still held together with that safety pin. Definitely a bit more harrowed, now that she's running SHIELD. She looks like a woman who has twenty things going through her head at any moment.
*
"No, they closed us down," Heather says with a tight little smile. "Very quietly. It was… well. You know how they get when they're closing up a program. Mac died last year, they kept that quiet, too. So now I work here in New York. I kind of hate it, but being back in Canada staring at the walls was worse. They didn't have any use for me with Mac gone." Heather's expression is that of someone who's come to terms with all that. She isn't happy about it but she's bearing up. You can't survive in this business if you don't have that kind of resilience.
*
That information actually slightly breaks Peggy's heart. While she might be the normal stoic, quiet British who doesn't often wear her heart on her sleeve, the news from Heather is enough to speak to her as a wife and as someone married to her work. "Oh…Heather, I… I am so sorry. For the program *and* for Mac. I…" Peggy actually looks a touch angry a heartbeat later, "I'm angry no one let me know. They did that awful damn quiet if SHIELD didn't even pick it up. I've got a few heads to push together over the phone soon." She smirks, making mental notes for those phone calls before looking back to heather. "And yes, resilience is essential, but it doesn't mean it's not bloody miserable either."
*
"Even I don't know what happened, not all of it." Heather shakes her head slightly, her expression growing grim. "I'm not even sure what they sent me to bury was actually Mac, to be honest, but he's gone. I think I'd know if he was still alive. But. I'm here. And starting over. Though — you may not believe this, because you look run off your feet — I miss the work so much. I think it would be easier if I could just do the work." She exhales sharply and squares her shoulders. "Can I walk you somewhere? I've got a little time and I don't want to keep you standing around if you're busy."
*
The storm clouds behind Peggy's eyes darken even more as she hears news about the body. While she and Heather were never close, there was a certain amount of bonding between women in their field, especially ones who still dared to fall in love and get married. "I'll look into it. Let you know. Get you some answers. It's right awful they'd keep you in the dark." Peggy's accent might almost be a growl of those words. Maybe she IS more emotional than she used to be. Or maybe it's just hormones. Then she nods at the offer of walking, looking up towards Macy's…"I… ah… have need of new slacks. Was just going to Macy's. And I'm fine. I'd miss it too if I wasn't running around like this, though Daniel does wish I'd get home a bit earlier most nights. I still don't trust anyone to go through everything on my desk so… can't leave until it's all finished."
*
"Come on, let's see what Macy's can do — I'm usually in and out in no time." Heather starts walking that way with Peggy. "I appreciate you trying to find out what happened but if you're busy, Peggy, I don't want to put you out. Sometimes we have to live with the not-knowing, that's the job. I hope you won't take it wrong but you do look run ragged. You don't have someone to help out? I mean, Mac always had me — I don't think he'd have made it out of the house with both socks on without me, mind you, and that's before the actual work."
*
A slight line comes to Peggy's lips as Heather comments on her being run ragged. Peg can't exactly deny it, but she doesn't like it being pointed out. She sighs as they step off the busy street into the still somewhat busy, but slightly quieter, store. "I…have a secretary. He's… young. Not that organized. He'll learn, but there isn't always time for a training curve. And Daniel is great, he gets me out the door every day, but he works for SHIELD too… and Mickey's getting onto five now, the nanny went back to school full time… It's just been… a mess of a fall." Peggy admits quietly, her words more under her breath, really just meant for Heather's ears. She does not like admitting she's overwhelmed.
*
"Oh, Peggy," Heather says, with all the sympathy of someone who's been in those shoes — or close to it. "I didn't have a child to deal with — or maybe two?" She can't help a little laugh about that. "Not that some of the team didn't do a damn good job of acting like toddlers. You need help." That's a statement, not a question.
"Let me come over and do something for you. Please, it'll keep me busy. I could stand to get out of the house. You'd be doing me a favour. I just want to feel useful and this job… well, it makes me feel less that that." That's the first time Heather's voice has wavered. "I'm not used to just… pushing papers. And getting leered at. I know it's normal, I was spoiled before, but it just rubs it in, every day, what I've lost — making a difference. I'd like to do something to help you out. Anything."
*
While Peggy doesn't verbally confirm Heather's suspicions, the comment about 'Maybe two' gets her a brief, wide-eyed look, almost guilty. Seems she's right about that suspicion also! Peggy just frowns and crosses deeper into the store, searching for the women's section and the even smaller section of *pants* for women. While there were some styles, it still really wasn't in professional force yet these days.
"What *are* you doing now that you're in such a miserable environment? I mean… If you want to work for SHIELD, I'll bring you right in. I can get the budget to hire another agent, though I really do need a secretary as much as I do an agent. Someone who can be organized, read reports, do basic analysis…" Peggy offers quietly, at least seeing a possible solution to both their problems.
*
"Working for the UN. It was supposed to be this great project to profile the lives of mutants, to understand their problems, but the climate is shifting so rapidly, they're cutting our funding and our mandate. It's just binder-filling now," Heather says sadly. "I'm basically killing time until they move me to researching in another department."
Then Heather's brain catches up with what Peggy's saying. "Another agent? I'm field-trained and I can hold my own but I really am at my best when I'm at HQ. If you need someone to keep your office in order, process your reports, run your advance research, handle your requisitions, oversee agent training and briefing… it's what I did for Mac. Twelve years of it. The only difference would be I wouldn't go home and do it there as well. Do you really need someone?"
*
"…That's… rather exactly what I need." Peggy stops between some clothing racks, well away from any other ears, especially since this style of clothing isn't exactly fashionable in compare to the things up front. She studies Heather's features for a few moments, actually considering if the woman really means it about her current job. This all seemed to easy. She exhales slowly through her nose. "I don't know that SHIELD can pay as much as the UN. We aren't quite as established yet and… well, NATO is a fickle mistress. But I'd certainly put you to good work. And the hours are shite, just a warning. And your boss is a right bitch."
*
"I make an office girl's salary, Peggy. I'd get more if I enlisted," Heather says bluntly. "And Sue Storm is kind enough to give me a place to stay in the Baxter Building because she's a good friend. So I have a good home. I don't give a shit about hours. I lived my job, I was never off the clock. I married Mac at seventeen and even before that, I worked for him when I wasn't in school. Sometimes, I'd climb out my bedroom window at midnight to help him with a project. I don't really do normal." She gives Peggy a little smile. "I'll send you my resume, okay? If you can get me security clearance, I'm your girl. No matter what you pay. I'd do it for free, but don't tell payroll that."
*
That last comment gets a slight roll of her eyes and a half chuckle. It's the warmest thing from Peggy yet, really, and probably a good sign for both of them that the Director is relaxing into the idea of this all. "I won't, I promise. We actually might pay more, in fact. I just need to work on the clearances. Still, we're international. We should be able to get your international clearances fairly easily. Unless you've been smuggling things under our noses." Peggy states with a half smirk, mostly teasing there. She then turns to start going through the pants, a deeper sigh escaping her chest. She doesn't like this dance.
*
"You know, I can alter the pants you do have," Heather says. "Or fit the ones you pick out. My mother had seven kids after me, and I was a lot older than even the next one. We couldn't really afford new clothes." She picks out a pair of pants and looks at them a little skeptically. "So I can sew, as well as everything else that the men in charge give a damn about. We'll get you set up and, if we're clever about it, no one will suspect a thing for a while to come. We can buy you some time. Don't worry."
*
The offer of alterations makes Peggy's brow arch. It was quite tempting, especially considering sewing was NOT one of her best skills. "…I wouldn't want to ask someone of your intelligence for… well, for basic sewing. But being able to.. hide matters would be rather convenient. Especially at my age. No one approves and no one's going to want me in the damned office." It's likely Peggy has already received some lectures about the matter from the tone of her voice. She tugs another pair, rather noticably too large but could be belted, from the rack. "…this will do. Just something to wear back to work."
*
"Peggy, it's all part of the job. Sewing is a skill," Heather says firmly. "I apply it like any other — to whatever is best for the team. What's best is that you stay in your role, as you should. It's not a step down or an inconvenience. Get yourself back to work in whatever suits and, one way or another, we'll get you fitted into some things, privately, that will keep you from feeling like everyone's staring. It's not your fault or mine that people are ridiculous about pregnancy. You deserve to stay in your job until you're ready to make a change — if you are. I'm sure your office is big enough for an infant cot, if that's what you want to do."
*
The slight laugh that comes in response to the comment about an infant cot is a little manic and a little dizzy with relief. No one else spoke like this, *no one*. Even Daniel gave her that look sometimes, the look that said she should take it easier. Not much of one to be a hugger, Heather will suddenly find herself pulled into a rare, tight embrace from the older woman. She only holds on for a second or two before letting go and draping a pair of slacks over her arm like nothing happened. "Yes, well…" She clears her throat, "I think this will work out fine. I'll call you with a former offer tomorrow, what's your exchange these days?"
*
Heather hugs Peggy back warmly, then lets her go. Nothing to see here. "I'll give you my card with my contact information and I'll get you whatever other info you need," she promises, rummaging in her satchel for said card. "I come from poor people, Peggy, and a lot of women work. That's our way. We just do, because we have to. And I understand what it is to lose this job. I'm going mad, I am. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, especially not you, not after all you've done. You have no idea how grateful I am. So, whatever you need, I've got your back." She comes up with the card and offers it to Peggy.
*
Once the card is located in that satchel, Peggy almost greedily takes it. She wasn't letting this too-perfect opportunity slip from her hands. She reads the number twice, just so it's not forgotten, and then slips it into her jacket pocket. "Thank you, Heather. You *will* be getting a phone call from me tomorrow morning. I promise. Thank you…truly." Then Peggy's eyes flicker up to the large clock on the wall, studying it with a frown. "…I need to get back, though. Pay and get out of here." So much for lunch. "…I look forward to getting you in the office. Start thinking about how much notice you'll have to give the UN."