Chapter Text
Hyatt Place
Columbus, Ohio
Election Night 2011
Thor’s back is hunched, hands gripping tightly, almost angrily, on the backrest of the chair in front of him. He’s trying hard to tune out the nervous, high-strung voices outside his room, because he can hardly think straight with all this commotion. One of the ten television screens is flashing red and blue on his face but he’s not paying any attention to it. He’s thinking about numbers. He finds it funny how numbers can mean so much in this country—how much, how many, too much, too little—and on a day like this, it’s the only thing that matters. But tomorrow those numbers will still be numbers, and sooner or later they will disappear into a sea of even more numbers, forgotten until someone digs them up again and remembers the how and the why. It’s funny yet disappointing how the issues can become just numbers, only to be abandoned and replaced by new numbers, until the issues themselves drown in the ocean of It Hardly Matters Anymore.
He looks back at the whole campaign; the past year and half that almost took his soul as payment for talking about the issues, the real ones, not just the numbers, because he knows what it feels like to be just a number among other numbers. He knows what it feels like to be data, to be statistics. He didn’t work this hard, to come so far, only to fall into the same trap that politicians before him fell into. He wanted to make sure that the numbers became more than just numbers. He wanted to make sure that the numbers are seen as what they truly are—people.
But numbers are, after all, still numbers, and tonight those numbers, unfortunately for Thor, make the decision.
“Thor?” There’s a gentle hand on his shoulder and he knows it’s his beloved. Jane has been such a force to be reckoned with during the whole campaign that he can’t even begin to imagine not having her around. She would be the perfect First Lady, if she was only given the chance—beautiful, intelligent, eloquent and passionate, among other things—but she will always be his lady love, his rock and comfort. Maybe she won’t be the First Lady and maybe he won’t be the President of the United States, but he knows that he has become a much better man because she was there by his side throughout the whole campaign. For now, that’s more than enough.
His grip on the chair loosens in resignation and he turns to face Jane, gives her a tired smile. “Yes, my love?”
She returns the smile. Hers, though, is a sad one. “They’re ready to call Florida.”
Do or die. Thor takes a deep breath, buttons his suit jack and slips his hand into Jane’s. They started this together and they will end this together, no matter what the outcome. She leads him out of the master bedroom and into the living area to join the staff. Everyone is quiet, waiting on the edge of their seats for the news.
“We are now prepared to call Florida’s 29 electoral votes for Senator Steven Rogers.” The reporter’s voice echoes in a room that has suddenly gone very still. “With 277 electoral votes, Senator Steven Rogers of New Hampshire is now the President-elect of the United States of America.”
Jane looks up at him, unsurprised yet expectant, and he only grips her hand tighter in response. They knew it would all boil down to Florida. They had tried to create an edge by spending the last days of his campaign there, but their efforts, it seems, weren’t enough. There’s sadness and disappointment in his chest, but, well—you win some, you lose some. He smiles at Jane, kisses her forehead, and turns to the staff that had worked so hard these past eighteen months.
“My friends,” he begins. “I am certain that you are all dismayed at the results of tonight’s election. Unfortunately, this is the game we have all chosen play, and in this game there will always be a winner and a loser. It is regrettable that we are on the losing end of the stick, but on the bright side, we lost to a formidable and deserving foe.” He pauses, waits for his words to register on their gloomy faces. Many of them nod in acceptance.
“This has been quite the journey, and I honestly could not have done it without this fantastic group of talented and passionate people. You all have very bright futures ahead of you, and if I could employ all of you under my office, I would.” There’s a smattering of laughter. “I fervently hope that you continue on this path that we have walked on during the campaign. Our government needs more young people like you, people who want nothing more than a better future for the next generation. I could not thank you enough.” They all applaud.
“And I think my Jane will agree with me when I say that I hope I don’t see your faces for the next couple of weeks.” There is laughter again, but this time it’s livelier. “Have a few minutes to yourselves before we all walk down to the ballroom together. Thank you, everyone. Job well done.” Another applause, and the staff break off to hug each other and offer sympathies.
Thor takes Jane in his arms and releases a sigh of both relief and weariness. “What an adventure.”
She chuckles and says, “It’s never anything less with you.” She kisses him softly on the lips. “I’m proud of you.”
“I could not have done it without you, my love.”
“Of course you couldn’t.” Thor laughs. “You can barely find your socks without me.”
He breaks into a smile, the first one of the night that genuinely expresses happiness. “Truer words never spoken.” And he knows deep in his heart that all shall be well.
“Senator?”
Thor turns to the voice. “Natasha. How are we doing tonight?”
“Seeing as we just lost the White House, not so good,” she tells him in discontent, but obviously attempting to smile. “But at least it’s not all bad news.”
“Ah, yes. Have you phoned Tony yet?”
“After your concession speech.” She extends her hand to the door. “Shall we? There’s a ballroom full of depressed and dejected people waiting for you.”
“Well then,” Thor offers Jane his arm and she takes it. “Let’s try to lift their spirits up. It’s not all bad news, as you said.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow and her eyes twinkle mischievously. “Oh, you bet, Senator.”
//
Stark Residence
Malibu, California
Election Night 2011
The atmosphere in the house is festive, though a little sullen because of Thor’s devastating loss. No one will dare to admit that it had been expected—the campaign didn’t spend as much time in Florida as they should have—but it’s still depressing to know that they had the White House at the palm of their hands, only to be taken away from them by a Republican who only managed to win the hearts of America with his blonde locks and charisma. That they lost to him will always make Tony puke a little in his mouth. He hasn’t even started running the country and Tony already hates the guy.
But whatever happens, nothing will rain on his parade tonight. It was only a little bit over an hour ago when California news agencies announced that he had won his sixth term in Congress with a whopping 76 percent of the vote, so the celebrations will definitely go on despite the party’s major loss.
He’s in the doorway between the terrace and the spacious living room, watching the people eat his food and drink his booze, and he actually could not be any happier to see about two dozen political staffers lose it a little. He thinks back on his life a little, on the path he’s chosen to take, the decisions he’s chosen to make, and tells himself that whatever shit he’s been through, it’s all been worth it. Despite the losses and the disappointments and the failures, it’s all been very, very worth it.
He spots his assistant, Kate Bishop, squeezing through a crowd of rowdy interns. Her frustrated face says that she’s been looking for him for quite some time now. He waves at her in acknowledgement. “Hello, pooh bear. Miss me?”
“Not in the slightest.” She shoves a phone into his empty hand. “Here. Natasha called while I was maneuvering through the Istanbul Grand Bazaar—that is, the first floor of your house. She’s been on hold for ten minutes.”
Tony’s eyes widen in slight fear. “Shit.” It’s never good to keep Natasha Romanoff waiting, no matter what the excuse. “I’m blaming this on you,” he tells Kate as she rolls her eyes and saunters off into the crowd. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he greets the DNC National Chairman a little too enthusiastically. “Natasha!”
“You know better than to keep me waiting, Stark.”
“I’m so sorry, it’s been a whirlwind of a night,” he tries to explain. There’s no response from the other line. He tries again. “It was Kate’s fault?”
He can practically feel her rolling her eyes. “Shut up, Stark.” There’s an affectionate tone to her voice, so he knows he’s off the hook for now. “Congratulations on the win—76 percent of the vote. That’s something to be proud of.”
“After all these years, you’re still surprised? You know how much my constituents love me.” He turns to the crowd inside his house, raises his glass of club soda and yells, “California!”
“CALIFORNIA!” they all yell back.
“See?”
“Maybe we should have mandatory psych evaluations for your district. I’m not at all sure that any of your constituents are sane,” she teases.
“Aha, you should know never to bite the hand that feeds you, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs from the other side of the line and Tony smiles. The fierce party chair rarely laughs, rarely shows any emotion at all aside from indifferent, annoyed, or completely pissed off, so her laugh is a sound to cherish. It is pretty infections and heartening, after all, strangely fitting for her gripping good looks. “How’s the senator?”
He hears her sigh and the tone of the conversation changes slightly. “Disappointed, obviously, as with the rest of the party. But you know Thor, always looking at the silver lining.”
Tony snickers. “We’re going to have a Republican administration. I don’t think there is a silver lining.”
“You’re forgetting we’ve taken back the House,” she tells him in a sing-song voice. He can practically hear her smiling wickedly from the other end.
“You don’t need to remind me, I’m already on an election high. Wish I had been in the room with Maria Hill when the news outlets announced it. Her face would have been priceless,” Tony tells her, vengeful satisfaction evident in his every word.
Natasha pauses. “You know the Speakership is yours, don’t you?”
“I’d be surprised if I didn’t have it in the bag already,” Tony tells her honestly. He hears glass breaking from inside the house. “My house is turning into a frat party.”
“That’s one piece of news I’m definitely not surprised to hear anymore.”
Tony ignores that. “Anything on the other twenty-three seats still in contention?” He spots Pepper from the other side of the room and tries to grab her attention by waving ostentatiously.
“They’ll be calling it soon. We’re looking at more or less 250 seats. That should keep the Republicans in line, don’t you think?” Natasha asks, her voice dripping with Machiavellian undertones.
“Have I ever told you how glad I am that we’re on the same side?”
“Not often enough, honeybunch.”
Pepper finally spots him and begins to make her way towards the terrace doorway. “I’ll be on the first flight out tomorrow, so I’ll see you on the Hill,” he informs Natasha.
“You know, I’d never thought I’d say this, but I’m excited to be working with you, Stark.”
Tony smiles to himself. “Likewise, Miss Romanoff.” And they both hang up. “Pep!” he greets the tall redhead. “Congratulations on the reelect.”
“To both of us, really.” She gives him a peck on the cheek. “This is turning out to be quite the party.”
“I’ll blame it on Kate in the morning.” He spies his assistant from the corner of his eye doing shots of god knows what with the interns and shakes his head. He will definitely blame this on Kate somehow, but he’s got to admit it has leveled up to be something else, and hell, you only win congressional elections once every two years, so you might as well make a gigantic party out of it. “That was Natasha on the phone, by the way.”
Pepper raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Are you two scheming already?”
“We’re going to have a Republican in the White House. ‘Be prepared’ is going to be my mantra for the next four years,” he reasons out.
Pepper answers by rolling her eyes. “And so will probably ‘that shit cray.’”
“I work in the United States House of Representatives, Pep. All that shit is cray.”
She smacks his arm playfully. “God, you’re impossible.”
“We’ve known each other for twenty years. That’s hardly breaking news.”
“Tell me about it,” she jokes and takes one last sip of her drink. “Anyway, I really just wanted to drop by to pass on my congratulations to everyone.” She kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll see you in DC.”
“Bye, Pep. See ya.” He watches as she bids a few more friends goodbye and exits through the front door.
Tony takes one final swig of his drink and sets it down on the table next to him. The crowd in his house is gathering in front of the gigantic TV screen in the living room. “They’re ready to call the final numbers!” Kate screams from somewhere in the mass of people. It’s quiet all of a sudden, and then a jubilant howl erupts. Tony can barely hear anything over the merrymaking.
“…186 to the Republican Party and 249 seats to the Democrats. The Democratic Party has officially regained comfortable control of the House…”
Tony smiles deviously at the television screen. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and that’s one thing he can cook up locked in a cave for three months with nothing but scraps of metal and a car battery stuck to his chest.
//
Raddison Hotel
Manchester, New Hampshire
Election Night 2011
He’s had the same picture in his wallet since the last semester of his senior year at Georgetown. It is, predictably, of Peggy, taken during that unforgettable spring break in New Hampshire. While the rest of the senior class went to Miami, Santorini, or wherever rich kids usually spent their spring break, Steve and Peggy were holed up in Uncle’s Michael’s farm about an hour and a half away from Manchester, doing nothing but living the apple pie life. In the picture, Peggy is in the kitchen, covered in flour, icing, sugar, and god knows what else. She’s laughing and there had been pies strewn everywhere—they were (supposedly) pecan pies, Steve remembers vividly, his favorite—and none of them had been edible. Peggy’s never been a good cook or baker, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right? In the end, they gave up, cleaned the kitchen and had Aunt Hannah bake, which was what they should have done in the first place.
Clutching his wallet and gazing at the picture, Steve can’t remember a time when he was happiest, most contented, than in those stolen moments with Peggy. It’s not the passion or the intensity of making love that he misses the most, but rather the adoring smiles, the hearty laughter, the slow mornings in the kitchen, the quiet evenings in the living room. It’s the victorious times like these where he hurts, aches for Peggy and her warm touch and reassuring eyes.
“I’m already married to you,” she would say. “What’s a little more insanity in my life?” He’d kiss the top of her head and laugh because oh, he’s the luckiest man in the world to have the most amazing woman by his side.
“We did it, Peg,” he whispers to the picture. “We did it.”
He sits alone in the master bedroom of his suite, trying his very best not to cry. The past year and a half is all a haze of long hours and buses and aircraft hangers and blue and red in his mind. He’s never liked the campaign trail, not when Uncle Michael did it during his youth, and most certainly not when he did it when he ran for Senate after his uncle’s death. During his first two terms, he had Peggy to lean on to, to gather strength from, and he survived all the madness because of her. This time around, he’s barely breathing.
There’s a soft knock on his door and the sound doesn’t register in his head at first. The door creaks and a head pops in. “Mr. President-elect?” inquires a gentle voice.
He jolts out of his reverie and turns to face the door. It’s Bruce, his campaign manager, and will most likely be the White House Chief of Staff. Steve laughs softly at his usage of the new title. “I’m having a hard time getting used to being called that.”
Bruce chuckles and walks in. “I don’t think you have a choice, sir. The American people have spoken.”
“You’re right about that.” He stands up and tucks his wallet in the back pocket of his slacks. “Did you need something?”
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”
Steve gives him a tired smile. “I’m exhausted, for one.”
“You and the rest of us, sir,” Bruce sympathizes. “More than half the staff’s crashed already, I think.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s been a tough campaign, especially these last few weeks.”
“You’re doing alright?”
Steve sighs wearily. “Yeah, I just…I can’t remember the last time I had more than four hours of sleep.”
“Nick Fury wanted to call a strategy meeting for tomorrow,” Bruce tells him with a gentle laugh. “I told him to wait two or three days, let the staff catch their breath.”
“Thank you for that. It’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. Fury’s face is one that I will most definitely not want to see,” Steve jokes.
“I figured.” Bruce moves closer to the President-elect who is now by the window, looking out into the Manchester night. “You miss her,” he states cautiously.
The picture in his wallet is suddenly hot on his rear, and Peggy’s absence is all too palpable to him now. During the time he has known him, Bruce has never stepped out of line, but he has always called things as he saw them, and Steve’s never been good with hiding his emotions. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and he’s pretty damn sure that his yearning for Peggy’s presence is all too evident on his face. “Did you know that she was the one who convinced me to run? I didn’t want another term in the Senate, and when Fury came to me and asked me if I wanted to run for President, I was halfway out the door already. But Peggy was convinced that I’d make a good President, that it would be good for the party and the country. She died before I could make a decision.”
“And in the end you chose to run.” Bruce pauses, takes a moment to think. “For her?”
“Because of her.” Steve takes a deep breath. “She was the one great force in my life. She made me feel invincible, like I could do anything with her by my side. You see, after everything I went through during my tours, she made me believe that we still have the power to make this country a better one, even with all the crap that’s happening. She gave me hope. She made me believe that all of this is going be worth it in the end. It’s just that now.” His voice is suddenly softer, “I sometimes don’t think it will be, not without Peggy to share it with.”
Bruce rests an assuring hand on the President-elect’s tense shoulder. “You’ve done a magnificent thing. You’ve inspired crowds, had them chant your name with loud voice, and lifted them off their feet. You won the presidency against all odds. The road ahead will be long and difficult, but I’ll bet my life that Peggy will be with you every step of the way. And if she could, she’d be kicking your ass right now for thinking all these pessimistic thoughts.”
Steve laughs loudly. “You’re right about that.”
“None of us would be here without you. None of us would be here if we didn’t believe in your vision. And so help me god if 64.9 million Americans don’t believe in it, too.” The President-elect says nothing. Bruce tightens his clutch on Steve’s shoulder. “I’ve known you for years. You wouldn’t have done this if it didn’t feel right.”
Steve closes his eyes, thinks of Peggy and the pitter-patter of rain on the windowsills of their home. He realizes that although he still aches for Peggy, wants nothing more in this world that for her to be here again, he finally gets it. He may have had his uncertainties at the beginning, but he feels it seeping through his skin—this is right. That with Phil and Bruce and the rest of his staff, they can do great things. He will always think of Peggy and a First Lady-less White House, but he knows that is where he’s supposed to be at this very moment.
“Yes,” Steve whispers. “Thank you, Bruce. For everything.”
“I serve at the pleasure of the President-elect.” Bruce takes him in for a hug. “I’ll leave you to rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“I’m dreading it already.”
“You and I both, sir,” Bruce says with a chuckle. “Good night.” He closes the door behind him, leaving Steve alone once again.
Despite his head spinning, reeling from tonight’s mix of heavy emotions, he goes to sleep knowing that tomorrow won’t be easy, but maybe, just maybe, it will all be worth it in the end.