Chapter Text
“And where are you from, my lovely?” he asks, looking her over.
“Porth,” Peggy says, surprising herself. She watches the way the customer’s eyebrows raise.
Then he smiles, like he’s afraid of seeming gullible. “Ol’ Ferris couldn’t afford a Porthi girl. Not even a swayback.”
“Oh, I’m not a swayback,” Peggy assures him. She plucks, with her red lacquered nails, at the silky black ties to her robe. She pulls the knot free so that the robe falls open, revealing the sheer, black lace negligee beneath. She pulls the robe down, and twists, baring the back of her right shoulder. She hears his breath catch and knows what he sees. The mark. Three concentric circles with a star at the center.
“Holy fuck,” he whispers, awed. He swallows thickly. “How’d Ferris manage to catch you?”
Peggy pulls the robe up, covering her shoulder. She shrugs. “Sometimes my luck runs out. You must know what that’s like.”
He frowns, confused. He hears the floor creak and turns -
Just in time for Cap’s blistering right to nail him across the jaw. Cap catches him before he falls and lowers him quietly to the floor.
Cap glances up at Peggy and their eyes meet for a moment. He drops his gaze, taking in her provocative outfit. She pulls her robe tighter around her body, covering herself. She spent years as a companion, but it doesn’t mean that everyone gets a free show, especially not him .
Bucky’s right behind Cap, and starts digging through the guy’s pockets.
“ Marge .”
Peggy turns and sees Jack outside the window, motioning to her. She goes to him, following him out onto the small ledge. They scoot along in the dark, clutching to the side of the building. They’re at least a dozen stories up and Peggy refuses to look down. The wind is howling around them, buffeting them strongly, making it nearly impossible to hear one another.
They get to the ladder and start climbing for the roof. Jack goes first, setting a steady pace, which Peggy struggles to match. The problem with being dressed like a companion is that she’s dressed like a companion. Her shoes are completely unsuitable for climbing a rickety, rusty ladder in the dark.
They’re almost to the top when she hears Jack curse. He scrambles, falls, catches himself with a loud thud. But his foot smashes into her hand and she loses her grip. Peggy manages to catch the ladder with two fingers, but it’s impossible. She dangles. Her hold gives way and she falls -
The hand clamps around her upper arm with crushing force, stopping her instantly, jolting every bone in her body.
Cap immediately pulls her closer. He tucks her against his body with a graceful ease that is possible only because of his incredible physical strength. His arm is banded around her middle, holding her steady. For a long moment, she stays exactly as she is, clinging to him. She fights for breath, her fingernails biting into his back as she presses her face to his chest, shaking.
Peggy doesn’t like Cap. And he doesn’t like her. But right now, she would give him a go for free as thanks.
He ducks his head, his lips against her ear, so she can hear him over the wind. She can feel his short facial scruff as he speaks. “You okay?”
She nods.
“Can you climb?”
She nods again.
She thinks he’s going to release her, but he shifts his weight on the rickety ladder, kicking at her feet with one of his. Her ridiculous shoes fall away. She hears Bucky curse below them on the ladder. She can’t make out the words, but she has a good guess at what he said. She hopes he didn’t catch a stiletto heel to the eye.
Those shoes cost five hundred credits. And she already knows that Cap has no intention of reimbursing her for them. Asshole. This isn’t even his op.
He shifts, moving her, so she’s on the ladder, her feet a step above his. His arms bracket either side of her body. She starts to climb again.
They make it to the roof and Hill is there with the scout ship.
“We get the goods?” Fury asks.
Bucky pulls the documents out of his pocket, tossing them down on the galley table in front of Fury. Looking the papers over, Fury nods. He hands them to Natasha, who sits next to him.
She eyes them critically. “This is it,” she says blandly. This was supposed to be her op. But the dislocated knee has had her sidelined for weeks. She looks up at Peggy. “Porth, huh?”
Peggy shrugs. She knows Natasha was listening on the comm. Peggy doesn’t want to take Natasha’s place on the crew. But their skillsets are similar, so there’s been some unavoidable friction. “The more exotic, the better, right? Maybe I should have said Asgard.”
Natasha looks her up and down, and then away. “Asgard would have been more believable,” she says. The censure is clear. “Porthi women don’t leave Porth. Not even the swaybacks.”
“Surely some of them do,” Bucky says, sliding into a chair next to Natasha. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be stories.” Peggy hasn’t been with the crew long, but she already knows that Bucky loves inane arguments. And Natasha.
Natasha snorts. “Yeah, the Collector had a Porthi woman up for auction about fifteen years ago. She went for a half a billion credits.”
Bucky whistles. “What the hell would make anyone fork over half a billion credits for a piece of ass?”
Natasha shrugs. “Forbidden fruit. Most people have never seen a Porthi woman. Not even in pictures.”
“Yeah?” Bucky says skeptically. “A few of the girls at Ferris’s place are good lookin’ and great in the sack. And they go for a hell of a lot less than half a billion credits.”
“You’d know better than me,” Natasha says blandly.
Bucky smiles unrepentantly.
Jack leans back against the wall, watching, but remaining silent. He does that a lot. He’s new. He joined the crew about a month after Peggy and she knows he’s still trying to find his place. She understands his strategy, but she doesn’t like how hard it makes him to read.
“Her name was Whitney Frost,” Cap says quietly. He’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He’s removed most of his tactical gear. The black t-shirt he wears is incredibly tight. The material is stretched taut over his thickly muscled arms and chest. His blond hair is sticking up in spiky tufts. He’d probably be attractive, if he wasn’t such a jerk.
Natasha looks at him, eyebrow arched.
“The Porthi woman who Tivan auctioned off,” Cap clarifies. “Her name was Whitney Frost. And she wasn’t just Porthi. She was Porthi nobility.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Bucky says incredulously, tucking a lock of greasy dark hair behind his ear, “it’d be interesting to nail a princess, but there’s lot of royalty floating around the galaxy. It can’t be worth a half a billion credits.”
Cap shrugs. “Worth more than that, to the right person.”
Natasha eyes him critically. “I forget you’re a swayback, Cap.”
He frowns at her, neither confirming nor denying her words. As a rule, Cap doesn’t speak much. Natasha and Bucky both seem determined to keep him talking.
“So Frost was a princess?” Natasha asks.
“Nobility,” Cap says, shaking his head. It always strikes Peggy as odd, how articulate he can be. Given the way he looks, she expects his vocabulary to be limited to grunts and monosyllables.
“There’s a difference?” Bucky asks dubiously.
“A world of difference,” Cap says. “Female Porthi don’t leave the Porth Empire. They’re its most valued members. Society is matriarchal and insular. The nobility wield power and wealth. But royalty - “ he shrugs. “Their whims shape the course of the known universe.”
Bucky makes a face. “Still doesn’t explain why would somebody want to buy one of them.”
Natasha shrugs. “Anything sufficiently rare can be fetishized. Maybe Frost got off on people having a bidding war for her.”
“Aren’t Porthi supposed to be great in the sack?” Bucky asks, one eyebrow raised.
Natasha meets his gaze evenly and then pointedly glances at Cap. “That’s what the Porthi say.”
Peggy turns to leave. She has a flak jacket on over her ridiculous outfit, and she’s still barefoot. She’s got better things to do than stand here and listen to the crew speculate on the inner workings of Porthi society and sex. She heads for her bunk.
“Have Cho check that arm,” Fury calls after her.
In the crew quarters, Peggy takes off the robe and lace negligee, packing them away in her footlocker and stowing them under her bunk. Remnants of a previous life, which she does not plan to revisit. She is still a licensed companion. It’s why Fury wanted her on the crew. It’s easier for a ship to dock at a port if they have a companion on board. But it’s not how Peggy earns her money these days.
She changes into the worn, skin tight black trousers and her heavy black boots. In anticipation of Cho’s examination, she squeezes a dab of synthskin into her palm and smooths it over her shoulder, hiding her mark. Then she throws on an ancient black t-shirt and covers it with a dark gray sweater.
On her way to the infirmary, Peggy passes the galley again. It’s the only space in the ship really large enough for people to congregate, other than the cargo hold. Fury’s gone when Peggy looks, but Cap and Bucky are sitting with Natasha, talking, all three of them with beers. Peggy doesn’t know where Jack went. Maybe the facilities. The ship isn’t large and there are nine crew members, in addition to whatever cargo they might be transporting. It doesn’t leave much room for privacy.
Helen Cho is in her quarters, which double as the infirmary. She rates private quarters. Fury, Stark and Cap also have private quarters. Everyone else gets a bunk.
Cho checks Peggy’s arm. It hurts like hell and the imprint from Cap’s hand is clearly visible. You can count the finger marks. It’s going to bruise like a sonofabitch. But it still beats being plastered all over the sidewalk in front of Ferris’s whorehouse.
“Ice it,” Cho says. “Take regular painkillers if you need them. I don’t think anything is permanently damaged, but you’re going to be sore.”
Peggy nods and Cho turns away, heading into the back room.
Shrugging into her sweater, Peggy hops off the exam table. She turns to see Cap leaning against the open doorway, watching her.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says evenly.
Peggy bristles, sticking her chin out as she stares at him.
“Are you injured?” he asks, though he doesn’t sound particularly concerned.
“I’m fine,” she snaps, glaring. “You owe me a pair of stilettos.”
He looks at her, smiling darkly, holding her gaze for a long moment. Then he shrugs and walks away. Peggy knows she’s never getting those shoes.
She sighs and turns down the hall. Cap is Porthi. The others may suspect as much, but Peggy knows it with certainty. She can practically feel it when she looks at him. He’s a swayback, that goes without saying. No other self-respecting Porthi would ever leave the Empire. It simply is not done. Plus, Cap looks the part. The Porthi underclass, swaybacks, were genetically modified millennia ago, designed for the hard labor that shaped the Porth Empire. Cap’s physical proportions and strength are definitely consistent with someone designed and bred for hard labor.
As Cap told Bucky and Natasha, the Porth Empire is incredibly insular. The star system is rich in natural resources, so outside trade is a choice, not a requirement - and is tightly controlled. The upper ranks of society are never seen in the galaxy at large.
Peggy knows about Whitney Frost because every Porthi knows about Whitney Frost. She’s infamous. It was a huge scandal, a blight on the Empire. Frost wasn’t a Princess - that the term isn’t even used in the Empire. Frost was the third daughter of a run of the mill Baroness. And the fact that she left the Empire, and allowed herself to be sold at auction by Tivan, caused ripples across all of Porth.
And yet, Frost’s scandal is nothing compared to the uproar Peggy must have caused. She doesn’t know for sure. She didn’t stick around long enough to find out. But she can imagine how ashamed her brother must be. She says a silent prayer of thanks that her grandmother wasn’t alive to see what a mess she made of things.
Peggy pulls her sweater tighter around herself, heading for the mechanical room. The one good thing about the Empire being so insular is that gossip doesn’t tend to make it into Alliance space. The downside is that, as an exile, it’s nearly impossible for her to get any word about loved ones still in the Empire.
A Porthi outside the Empire is a lost soul. To die out of sight of Porthi Prime is to be cursed to wander forever, never finding peace in the afterlife. Swayback males are the only Porthi who ever willingly leave the Empire. Even then, it’s not common.
Sometimes the swaybacks think they can build a better life for themselves among the galaxy’s rabble. Maybe they can. Cap has carved out a role for himself on Fury’s crew. He’s respected and good at what he does, which mostly includes beating the hell out of people. It’s a necessary skillset. It pays well. And he’s afforded more respect than he’d ever find in the Empire.
Peggy occasionally tries to gauge Cap on his own merits, but she finds it nearly impossible. He is a Porthi who has left the Empire. He’s an exile. It makes no difference that she’s in the same boat herself. When she looks at him, she’s reminded that he shouldn’t be allowed to breath the same air as her.
It is not done.
Oh, how far she has fallen.
Peggy finds Howard in the mechanical room. He’s dismantling something that looks rather vital with his usual lack of concern or care.
“Marge!” he says, his face lighting up as he offers her a seat.
“Howard,” she replies with a tight smile.
He asks for a rundown of the evening’s activities. She brings him up to speed, excluding the bit about showing her mark to the would-be customer. She’s still not sure what madness possessed her to do that. It was stupid. Provocative. Things she thought herself done with years ago.
“The outfit sounds lovely,” Howard says. “Maybe you could show me later?”
“Afraid not,” Peggy replies, frowning.
Howard is an incorrigible flirt, but he’s mostly harmless. And he’s one of her few friends in this new life. He’s the one who suggested her to Fury. Peggy owes Howard a lot. She was in a bad spot and he helped her out, without expecting anything in return.
It’s late when Peggy finally makes her way back to her bunk. As she passes, she catches sight of Jack sleeping in his bunk. She’s not sure about Jack. He’s handsome and charming enough. He watches her. A lot. She’s not sure, yet, what to make of that.
Climbing into her own bunk, Peggy pulls the curtain across, giving her as much privacy as is possible. In the dim dark, she holds her arm. It aches, despite the pain pill she took.
She could have died tonight.
She would have died tonight.
If she had died, she would have been one of those lost souls, condemned to forever wander. Would that be any different from how she lives her life now? She doesn’t even know.
END CHAPTER