In This Moment

Steve and Peggy

The office lights were dim.

It was still afternoon, but the heavy cloud over the sky obscured the sun, only allowing a few weak rays to filter through the open window. The cool breeze blew gently into the office, ruffling papers and filling the room with the sounds of New York. Several car horns honked. People talked loudly. Sirens wailed in the distance.

The man that sat behind the office desk was doing his best to ignore all of these big city sounds, sounds he was still becoming accustomed to, sounds so different to anything heard seventy years ago. His head in his hands, he tried to concentrate on the report before him, but it wasn't proving to be much use. His mind was distracted, lost about seventy years in the past, on a pair of warm brown eyes and red lips that parted into that beautiful smile he had loved.

Steve Rogers sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and turned the page, hoping to find something more interesting and attention-captivating on the other side.

A mysterious new threat had emerged, and Fury had asked Steve for his assistance in finding the man's identity. So far, that meant reading report after report after report, and though he usually wanted to get the job done, today Steve just couldn't concentrate.

He sighed and leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. He paused for a few minutes, hoping a quick break from reading through tedious files would help him concentrate on the job better.

But when he returned to the work, he found out that wasn't the case. After an hour, all he managed to get out of the information that the subject's last name was most likely Cortez.

He pushed it his chair back and stood up. Maybe he should chase this small lead he had. Perhaps a bit of variation would help him keep his mind in the present, not seventy years in the past.

He stretched and made his way to the room that contained the files of every person alive in America, a fact that was fairly impressive.

The walk wasn't long, and Steve soon entered the dark room. He switched on a lamp and the interior of the room was thrown into relief, showing the numerous bookshelves all lined with files. A hint of dust hung in the air, shadows cast over the floor by the imposing bookshelves.

Steve briskly made his way over to the 'C' section and started to finger through the numerous file names, processing each of them in his mind.

Cade... Cage... Cahier... Cair... Cameron... Carlos... Carter... wait.

Carter?

His eyes widened at the name, but he quickly composed himself. That didn't necessarily mean Peggy. Carter was a very common last name, from what he'd heard. It could be anyone. Anyone at all.

But the urge to know was too great. He sucked in a deep breath and began to sift through the numerous names under the Carter name.

Andrew... Amanda... Brian... he flipped through them faster, his heart beating furiously in his chest. Logan... Lauren... Mae... Margaret.

Steve bit down on his lip as he stared at the name, that name among thousands in this room, but it may as well have been the only one. His eyes glued to the small, printed black letters, he tried to process what was before him, and what it meant.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and grabbed the file. The material felt rough in his hand as he pulled it out and stared at the yellow file, wondering if he should open it, wondering if he was ready to see whatever is inside. Peggy could be dead. And if she wasn't dead... she'd have white or grey hair, a shadow of the woman she once was. Could he bear to see either of those?

He took a deep breath. This was Peggy. He had to know.

He fumbled at the side of the file, trying to grip the thin paper within his fingers. It proved to be a strangely difficult task, but he eventually managed it. Gripping the paper in a tight grip, he slowly moved it back to reveal the cream paper nestled within the yellow file.

His eyes were instantly drawn to an old photo of Peggy. She looked the same she had when he'd last seen her... brown hair shiny and loosely curled, her skin ivory and flawless, her eyes warm and brown, her lips full and red. The way she held herself radiated confidence, as she always had done.

Underneath her picture read "Peggy," in red ink, the name she liked to be known by. Underneath that was another word, a word that surprised him.

Retired.

He drew in a deep breath.

Peggy... she was alive.

He skimmed through the rest of the details provided on the sheet. There was a telephone number, and her current address: a retirement home.

He stared at the paper, his finger stroking gently over the words as he pondered, should he see her, even though they hadn't seen each other in seventy years? He was still in love with her. She should know he was alive.

He closed his eyes. But... would she want to see him? How would she react to him not having aged since the plane crash back in the Second World War? Could she take it? Would she even want to look at him?

He closed his eyes, mulling over his thoughts. As he did, the door creaked open, and a pair of boots impacted on the floor as their wearer made their way into the room, flicking the second lights witch. Steve could see the burst of light from behind his closed eyelids.

"Captain. What are you doing in here?"

The grave voice of Nick Fury travelled through the lit room. Steve inhaled, smelling the scent of new parchment, and turned to face the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.. The file dropped from his hands and fell the floor.

"You never told me Peggy Carter was still alive," he said, not bothering with explanations. His tone was a little accusing.

Fury walked forward, his one good eye staring intently at Steve. "We thought it best if you weren't distracted," he informed him. He glanced down at the file that was on the floor. "You found her file, didn't you?"

The answer was obvious, he wasn't going to waste time answering it. Instead, he moved on to more pressing matters. "I want to see her."

Fury shook his head. "Captain, I'm not sure that's wise."

"I don't care. I want - need to see her. Just once. Just so she knows." Steve took a deep breath and gazed back at the director, his stare never faltering.

Fury continued to look at him, eyebrows pulled together. He was deep in thought.

The director was in thought for several long minutes. And for the duration of those long minutes, Steve didn't move or distribute weight between either foot, just calmly waiting for the director's response.

Fury then sighed. "Very well," he said, his tone implying that he still didn't think this was a good idea. "I'll organise an agent to hand you the directions."

"That's alright." Steve walked past him, his strides brisk and hurried. "I'll just take a cab."

***

The retirement home was nice with a large garden and neat paint job, but Steve couldn't believe Peggy; independent, sure, confident Peggy living here, being looked after. But that was what her file had said, and he didn't think they'd lie.

Steve paid the driver and opened the door to find that it was raining. The heavy cloud had been threatening to do that all day. He ran through the rain, stopping once he was underneath the veranda that lead to the entrance door. Slowly, he walked through the door, and approached the woman at the front desk. Her brown hair was shaped into loose curls, just like Peggy's had been. He stopped, shocked, but composed himself and walked up to the front desk, resting his hands on the wood. How odd, he thought. He used to be completely awkward and unsure around women, but these days he could converse with them easily.

He ducked his head, feeling extremely uncomfortable. He twisted his hands in his lap, embarrassed by how he had just addressed Margaret 'Peggy' Carter.

"You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" she asked with a slight shake of her head.

"This is the longest conversation I've had with one," admitted. He turned his head to look out of the window. "Women aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on." Not to mention the fact they'd pick any guy over a small, skinny one like him. He didn't exactly have dashing good looks, and was just plain ordinary.

"You must have danced?" she asked, sounding the slightest surprised.

He shrugged. "Well, asking a woman to dance always seems so terrifying. And the past few years just didn't seem to matter that much. Figured I'd wait."

"For what?"

He looked at her. "The right partner."

The woman looked up at him and smiled, placing a file down and leaning forward. "Hello. What may I do for you today?"

"I'm here to see Margaret Carter," he responded, his heart fluttering in his chest.

The woman nodded and turned to a device he had recently learned was called a computer. He watched as she typed a few words into it. She scanned the screen and then turned to him, indicating to a map displayed just in front of him on the desk.

"Room 40." She outlined a path. "Do you need a guide?"

He looked over the path and shook his head. It was simple enough; he'd be able to remember it. "I'll be alright," he said.

"Very well. Have a nice day."

"You too, ma'am."

The woman looked a little surprised, but nonetheless pleased. Steve turned and down the corridor that would lead him to room 40, still feeling her gaze on his back. He wondered if she recognised him as Captain America, or made the link between him and Peggy. He shook the look off. He was stared at a lot since the procedure, anyway.

He breathed deeply, supported by Professor Erskine. The procedure had worked, but everything felt strange, unusual. He was so much taller than he once was, and stronger. It felt weird to be looking down on or equal height to those around him instead of having to look up.

He withdrew from his support and breathed deeply, just as Peggy pushed through the crowd to stand before him. Her eyes widened as she took in his new body. "How do you feel?" she asked, sounding amazed. He felt the same way.

"Taller."

She made an action as though to reach out and touch him, but withdrew it, grabbed a shirt handed to her through the crowd and passed it in to him. "You look taller."

The corridors were all painted white, lined with pictures of landscapes and still life. Steve supposed it was to make the cold walls appear warmer and more interesting, but it wasn't doing that for him. His footsteps echoed in the room, making it appear larger and emptier than it truly was.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down. The rain continued to fall outside, though it had increased to a steady downpour. He walked past an open window, the sound of falling rain vibrating in his ears, cold sprays of water entering the inside of the building. He paused for a second to close it, the sound instantly muffled. He stood there for a moment, watching the rain fall.

In his tent, the one that held all the belongings he brought for this trip, he stuffed everything he thought he could possibly need into the bag. He didn't care if he got into trouble because of this - his best friend was in danger, and he damn well hasn't going to sit around and wait for it to be officially confirmed Bucky was dead while he knew he could've done something he help him, just like the number of times Bucky had saved him from being best up by bullies.

Well, here was one big bully that needed a beating: Hydra. And in particular, Schmidt.

"What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?"

He looked up briefly from his packing to find Peggy standing before him, clothes and hair limp and dripping because of the rain, and still beautiful. He shook himself from the distraction and looked back at her, square in the eye.

"If that's what it takes." His voice was firm, stating that he wasn't going to back down or argue. He grabbed his bag, his shield, and marched outside.

"You heard the Colonel, your friend is most likely dead." Peggy followed him, equally determined.

He dumped his bag in the back of a car and turned back to face her. "You don't know that."

"Even so, he's devising a strategy to take."

"By the time he's done that, it could be too late!"

Steve took a deep breath, composing himself. He hadn't meant to explode like that at Peggy. He was just so worried about Bucky, his best friend, always there when he needed him. Now Bucky was gone... would Steve be able to save him? That was the question thst haunted his mind. What if his improved state still wasn't enough to save Bucky? He may as well be a stage performer if that was the case.

No. He couldn't think like that. Not with the task at hand. Dispelling the morbid thoughts from his mind, he looked at Peggy square in the eye.

"You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?"

She looked back at him, not blinking. "Every word," she said firmly.

"Then you gotta let me go." He walked over the the driver's seat, opened it, and got comfortable on the seats. He gripped the steering wheel, ready to start off.

But Peggy stopped him, again.

"I can do more than that."

He smiled. She always had had faith in him. She was always there for him, supporting him, encouraging him.

He pushed off the wall and turned a corner, walking down the corridor that lead to Peggy's room. He bit down on his lip, feeling nervous. How would Peggy react to seeing him? Would she be happy, excited to see him? Or would she want nothing to do with him anymore? Or would it be a mixture of both?

The shield barely weighed anything. He studied it, amazed that this could deflect any bullet shot his way. It certainly was a work of art, in his opinion. Just perfect for any upcoming missions.

He lifted his gaze to find Peggy walking into the room. Trying to make up for the unfortunate incident with Lorraine not long ago, he lifted his shield and smiled. "What do you think?"

She studied him for a moment, and picked up a gun, pointing it at him. Instantly, he placed the shield in front of his body as she fired three rounds, the sound of the gun deafening and echoing off the walls of the room. He could barely each bullet as it impacted with the shield, but knew it must have deflected them for there was no pain in his body.

Slowly, he lowered the shield to find Peggy staring at him. She put the gun down and inclined her head. "Yes. I think it works."

He shook himself free of his thoughts to find he was at her door. Steve stopped and looked down at the door numbers, the rich wood door, and brass handle. Behind that door was Peggy, a Peggy he did not yet know.

He raised his hand, about to knock, but it froze in midair. Fear crept through his veins, poisoning his heart. Could he do this? After seventy years, could he just rise from the dead and waltz back into Peggy's life? Could he do that her? She'd always been there for him, but what had he done? Would she prefer it if he stayed away?

Come on, Steven, he told himself sternly. Just do it. He took a deep breath and knocked three times on the door.

It took a while, but eventually a voice called, "Come in."

Peggy pulled a seat over to sit herself down beside him. He didn't look up, staring into the light coloured alcohol before him. The ruined village suited his mood. Even though Bucky had always been there to save him, when he needed Steve the most, he couldn't save him. His best friend was gone forever, just because he wasn't good enough.

In that moment, he desperately wished he could get drunk like a normal person. It would've been such bliss to forget, lost to the haziness and influence of the alcohol, not having to see his friend's scared, panicked expression as he fell to his death.

"It wasn't your fault," Peggy said softly.

He sighed. "Did you read the reports?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then you know that's not true."

Peggy sighed and looked at him. "You did everything you could," she said. "Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him?" He looked up at her as though to say yes. He had damn well respected Bucky, ever since they first met. They had spent so many days together... it was hard to believe he was gone forever.

"Then stop blaming yourself," Peggy said fiercely. "Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you were worth it."

He looked down, knowing she was right.

"I'm goin' after Schmidt," he said levelly. "I'm not gonna stop till all of Hydra is dead or captured."

He wouldn't stop, never. He made up to mind that if he couldn't defend Bucky, then he'd damn well avenge him.

"You won't be alone," she promised.

He looked up, his eyes meeting her warm brown ones, and knew that here was one ally that would never leave his side.

After hearing her voice, he almost felt like collapsing. He could feel the tears in his eyes, but he hastily wiped them away, returning to the task at hand.

The door barely creaked as he opened it, looking inside. The room was nice, with floral curtains, light coloured walls and carpet, and nicely styled furniture.

But his eyes were drawn to the bed. With the same pattern as the curtains, the bed sheets fit into the lightly coloured room. But the woman inside them... he swallowed.

Her lush brown hair was now grey, her face wrinkled. She was still Peggy Carter... but she had changed so much since he had last saw him. It hurt him to think how many years had passed, and all those years he couldn't spend them with Peggy. They should have been growing old together, starting a family, coming here to spend that last of their days. That should've been what happened... not him being frozen in the ice, the serum keeping him alive while his body was preserved.

But he gritted his teeth and eased the door open and walked inside. His footsteps were muffled by the carpet, but he may as well we wearing shoes made of concrete, and have been walking over tiled floors, since they echoed loudly in his mind. Slowly, deliberately he made his way over to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

Captain Rogers reporting for duty, darling.

There was a seat next to the bed. Slowly, Steve lowered himself into it and leaned forward, staring intently at Peggy, imagining the last time he had seen her.

He stood up, eyes fixed on the plane. He only had one shot on getting onboard, and he needed to be ready for that one perfect opportunity.

The car sped beneath him. He tensed, ready to jump at any moment.

"Wait!" Peggy cried suddenly.

He turned to look down at her, just she'd risen from her seat in the back. He lowered his head and their lips met. He closed his eyes as he kissed her, kissed Peggy, her lips soft against his own. He could've stayed there all day and have forgotten about Schmidt, but it was Peggy who drew away.

"Go get him," she said.

He looked down at her, and felt something warm in his chest.

He knew she'd be his strength, what kept him pushing forward through this mission.

His heart broke. How had she endured the years without him? Had she grieved? How much pain had he put her through? Did she hate him because of it? Or did she still harbour fond feelings for him?

He closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. When he did, he found Peggy's own eyes fluttering gently open, revealing brown eyes that showed her still shone with vibrance and life, but showed how many painful experiences she'd been through. Pain was etched deep within them, like she'd watched many people die through the years, but they were still beautiful and entrancing. Steve breathed deeply. He knew he was one of those who had caused her pain.

The cold artic breeze stung his face, blowing his hair back. He shivered, feeling cold outwardly and inwardly. Cold outwardly because of the weather. Cold inwardly because he had made a decision - a decision that would end his life. He took a deep breath and called base. He had to talk to Peggy one last time. He knew she'd be there, waiting for him to report on the success of his mission. He just wanted to hear her voice before he did what he had to.

"Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

A male voice responded, dampening his spirits, but they were lifted once more when he was interrupted by a voice he knew all to well.

"Steve, is that you?" Peggy asked. "Are you alright?"

Hearing her voice sent him relief. At least she'd know what he was doing, and why. He would be able to hear her voice one last time.

"Peggy! Schmidt's dead."

"What about the plane?"

He frowned, trying to best explain his situation. There was no easy explanation to it. "That's a little bit tougher to explain."

"Give me your coordinates, I'll find you a safe landing site."

She sounded worried. In all his time knowing her, Steve had barely heard the fearless Peggy Carter speak with a worried tone. Guilt washed over him, knowing what he was about to put her through.

"There's not going to be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

There was nowhere to land. But if he waited, thousands we going to die. He couldn't let that happen. It was one life or thousands. And he'd willingly sacrifice his life to save those thousands.

"I'll get Howard on the line, he'll know what to do."

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York." He paused, swallowed, and told her, "I gotta put her in the water."

"Please, don't do this. We have time. We can work it out."

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice."

They lapsed into silence. Steve removed his compass from his suit pocket and opened it, Peggy's face looking back at him. He placed the picture onto the dashboard so he could see her face during his last moments. The picture was in black and white, but he could imagine her silky, loose brown curls, warm eyes, and always red lips. He felt their first and last kiss tingling on his lips, and he closed his eyes briefly.

My choice, he repeated, and pushed the steer controls down. The plane titled downwards, the wind rushing through his hair as he descended closer to the artic water. His heart began to beat faster in his chest.

"Peggy?" he called, wanting to hear her voice so he knew he wasn't alone.

"I'm here," she breathed.

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."

He smiled at the thought. A club, both of them dressed up, smiles on their faces as she showed him how to dance. He could see the image so clearly, and just wished desperately it could become true.

"Alright," she said, sounding a little choked up. "A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

"You got it."

He broke through the clouds, and could see the ice and the deep blue water below. Normally, the sight of the ocean would be a welcoming one. But now, it filled his veins with icy fear, and his heart beat rapidly.

"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late! Understood?"

He smiled; her tone was firm and directive, just like it usually was. He paused, watching the ice become nearer, and did his best to uplift the mood.

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," he joked.

"I'll show you how," she breathed. "Just be there."

The ice was close, he was almost on top of it. "You'll have the band play somethin' slow. I'd hate to step on your..."

And the next thing he remembered, he was waking up.

His insides clenched at the memory. That had been one of the most horrible things about waking up; realising he was seventy years in the future, meaning that many of his friends had died, and that the world had changed and he had no idea what to do about it. Steve was still trying to understand technology. He got the basic concepts of computers, but with the more advanced things, he was still fairly confused.

But realising Peggy was like this? It broke his heart. He should've been by her side all these years.

Slowly, he reached his hand out, placing his smooth one over her more wrinkled one. He felt he smooth band of a wedding ring under his hand, but he had passed some time ago. The touch caused Peggy to turn her face to the side, wanting to see who it was. When she looked at him, her aged brown eyes widened; shock, surprise, amazement, bewilderment, joy and love flashing across her face. She then shook her head, as though trying to deny the fact he was real.

Steve squeezed her hand harder. "Peggy," he whispered, almost urgently. "Peggy, it's me."

Her lips opened a few more times, trying to find her voice. When she could talk, it was little more than a croak.

"Steve?" she whispered in a throaty and gentle voice, every word portraying surprise and utmost shock.

He could feel a sob building up within him, but he forced himself to remain composed for her. "Yes, Peggy. It's me."

"Steve," she whispered. She shook her head again and, with the hand that wasn't within Steve's, she reached out and cupped his cheek, a sad smile on her face. She smiled softly and opened her mouth to speak once more.

The words familiar and caused a few tears to well in his eyes.

"You're late."

----------------------------------- 

Oh my gosh I saw the deleted scene from the Avengers when Steve found Peggy's file and I was like my Steggy feeeeeeeeeeeelllllls.

And I became too inspired and tweaked a few things and this came out of it! Lol. I felt really sad writing this though. Steve/Peggy is one of my favourite pairing for any movie ever.

ANYWAYS hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you thought in the comments!

And a big thank-you to marvellously_crazed for the amazing book cover! Thanks so much!