The most difficult part of After – for the rest of her life that is how Peggy would think of it, Before and After the Quest – was that all the beautiful things she had found, all the new skills she had picked up, the strange and wondrous people she had met, all of them were utterly useless now that she was, once again, Peggy Carter of the Shire.

Her riches could buy her goods, of course, and the kind of grudging respect one only gave the very rich and eccentric. She wasn't unhappy to be back in her home, she just felt... unsettled.

She spent the better half of a year hoping a wizard would show up on her doorstep and whisk her off into another adventure. But wizards were contrary and capricious, and none appeared for all her wishing.

So she went through the motions of normal life. She gardened, she wrote, and she took as many meals at the pub as she could.

The waitress at the pub was one of the few faces in Hobbiton that Peggy considered genuinely friendly to her. Angie greeted everybody with a smile, of course, but it grew tighter around some of the more obnoxious of their neighbours.

"It's potato dumplings and stew tonight," said Angie, sliding the plate towards Peggy. "And then bread pudding for dessert."

Peggy took the plate gratefully and smiled at her. "Thank you. How's business been?"

Angie smiled back, then sat herself in the chair opposite. "Not bad. It would be better without certain people, but what can you do?"

Peggy shook her head. "Tell the boss and have him thrown out."

"If I did that we'd lose half our customers," said Angie. "'No law against being a rowdy drunk', they say."

One of the certain people called Angie's name in irritation, and she got back to her feet with a sigh.

Peggy watched her out of the corner of her eye, the rest of her attention focused on her meal. She started idly plotting an unfortunate fate for Mr Sandheaver. It shouldn't take too much to arrange.

Angie returned a few minutes later, her cheeks slightly pink with irritation. "I'm having a birthday party next week. You should come."

"Oh, Angie, no, I really shouldn't," said Peggy. "You don't need me at your party, stealing attention from you."

"I don't mind," said Angie, leaning one elbow on the table. "You're the most interesting person in this town, and I don't mean that as a backhanded compliment. If being your friend brings me a reputation, so be it."

"You deserve a proper life," said Peggy. "A respectable life."

"I deserve a happy life with friends I choose," Angie countered. She straightened up again, following some imperceptible signal that there was another round of drinks to distribute. "Come to the party, Carter," she said as a parting shot.

Peggy shook her head and turned back to her food.

--

She went to the party, of course. Angie's smile when she opened the door to welcome her made the evening of biting her tongue and being polite to the most disagreeable Hobbits in town made it all worth it.

"No, I think Mr Bracegirdle will make a very fine husband for Flora," said Peggy. "His agreement with the Dwarves is making his business the most successful in West Farthing."

Petunia Goodbody sniffed. "Well, of course you would think so."

Peggy gave her a bright smile with only the slightest hint of fang. "You haven't my experience, of course," she said, sighing. "But please, take my assurance that your niece is making the right choice."

She rose and drifted through the guests until she found Angie attempting to direct matters in the kitchen.

"Oh, Peggy. Are they being awful to you?"

"No worse than usual," said Peggy. "And I've learnt to ignore it." She smiled. "How about you?"

"You know what birthday parties are like – if you don't invite someone they just assume their invitation was lost in the mail. Thankfully I took my mother's advice to buy a lot of extra gifts!" Angie tucked her hand into the crook of Peggy's elbow and led her out of the kitchen and through a door marked 'Strictly No Admittance' in elegant script. "Come here. I want to give you your present early."

Peggy's heart fluttered a little in her chest. "Oh, you don't—"

Angie put a finger to her lips and pressed a package into her hands.

Peggy unwrapped it with care. It was a brooch, undeniably of Dwarven work. She felt a little twinge as she turned it over in her hands. The design was a simple daisy, the petals angular in Dwarf style and the centre twinkling with little gems. She could feel the quality from the weight and smoothness of the work.

"I thought it would look fetching on your red hat," said Angie. Her cheeks were very red.

There was no misinterpreting the significance of a gift like this. It felt like that moment stepping out her front door, the road and all its potential dangers falling away with the excitement of a new beginning.

That new beginning had ended in war. But all she would be giving up now was loneliness, and that wasn't so hard a decision to make.

"Thank you," said Peggy. "It's lovely." In the absence of her hat, she pinned it to her scarf so that it sat at the junction of her collarbone.

Angie looked relieved. "Oh, I'm so glad you like it."

"However, I don't think it's quite done to give courting gifts as birthday presents," added Peggy. "Petunia Goodbody would have none of it."

Angie giggled, slipping her hand down to link their fingers together. "Then it's a good thing I have all those extra presents."

END