God, his children were young. She’d half expected them to be babies, of course, or teenagers maybe, but that was certainly an age range. They’d lived their formative years with another mother and had lost her, and had grieved too. Far too young to have to grieve a loss, but if they were like her children, they’d also be strong, stubborn, reckless and brave. Just like their parents.
“They… are they…” she tried, tilting her head. “Are they all yours or Barnes’s or... a mix? I’m not sure how this all works, I suppose. It’s all so, so different. I know how much you told me about the world changing but to be inside it…”
Peggy let him run his fingers through her hair, feeling that he needed that comfort as well. She was trying not to dwell on the idea of starting anew. She would find somewhere quiet, cry for her lost babies, for her half of a husband, their little house. SHIELD. Her job. Her life. It wasn’t right to grieve a man who was sitting next to you, but she wanted to burn the feeling out through tears.
Looking down, Peggy felt her stomach turn into knots. “Yes. Yes, of course. I understand. Seems like you have everything in hand.”