Peggy Carter

It was not the picture Peggy ever thought she would make, but there she was: tanned, hair grown out, wearing shorts and one of Steve's button-up shirts, waiting for him on the porch of the bakery, three books in a neat stack in front of her as she drank a cup of tea and had a biscuit. Two and a half years on the island, and Peggy had thoroughly assimilated. When nothing magical or dangerous was happening, it took all she had to keep herself from dying of boredom.

And after her chat with Julie at the dance the night before, Peggy had begun to wonder just what she was doing on the island. It was a comfortable life, and she never forgot how lucky she was to have Steve, but the ITF and her defense class were barely enough to keep her occupied. Not the way her career had, and she missed it, at times. No, all the time.

Rather, she missed having a purpose. And with no purpose, Peggy simply had her own life to lead, but even that was proving to be a bit of a disappointment.

Thus, the books. She planned on taking a few classes once the term started up again as well, and...then what? All around her, people seemed to be content and living their lives, getting married and having children, but Peggy barely knew what she wanted anymore.

It was the sun that eventually roused Peggy. Instead of waking cozily in her darkened hut, the light and heat of the sun on her face brought her to reality, and she almost wished she hadn't.

Overindulgence was not Peggy's style, and she'd never been in a position where she hardly remembered what she'd done the night before or where she was waking up. Not since her first night on the island, when she had to remind herself the next morning that she was indeed there. It was a different thing entirely to find herself waking on what felt like sand, underneath the sun, with the sound of the ocean all around her, and not the faint whisper of waves she usually heard from her own home.

She squinted, trying to look around as she pulled herself into a seated position, wondering where the hell she was. It was still too bright to make anything out except for a body beside her, and as her eyes finally began to adjust to the light, she realized it was a boy. Peggy reached out to shake him away, but as she looked up and around them, her hand tightened on his shoulder as she froze, taking in the view.

They were surrounded by water. They were on a sandbar, surrounded by the bright blue of the ocean, and she hadn't the first clue how she got there, only the memory of going to bed the night before. But she'd obviously woken and somehow found herself here, though she had no possible idea how, and a big blank when she tried to remember.

"Peggy...this is my choice."

The wind howls over the microphone, and Peggy can just picture it: Steve up there, alone in the cockpit of some strange and magnificent death trap, believing he's doing the right thing. No. He is doing the right thing, God help her, and her feelings on the matter are insignificant.

"Peggy."

His voice comes pulls her out of her reverie, and Peggy's breath catches before she replies. She hardly recognizes her own voice, and barely registers the tears. "I'm here."

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

She used to believe she'd sacrifice anything to stop the Reich, believed her own life didn't matter apart from what she could do to stop Hitler. To stop Schmidt. To stop any and everything evil because it was part of a noble calling. Love never had anything to do with it, and while she'd never thought she could share anything with Steve - not practically, anyway - she'd never thought she'd have it ripped away from her like this.

"Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork club." It's all she can cling to, a false hope that he'll survive. Captain America walked into the jaws of death and came out barely singed once, surely he can do it again.

"You got it."

But it's not Captain America she's about to lose. She is losing a heart that beat too hard for his small body, a man with a soul that overshadowed everyone else before he did.

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

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

"I'll show you how. Just be there." Peggy hardly knows who she's saying the words for anymore, or if he understands that her heart is breaking with every single one, that she's never been the type to lose her heart so utterly to a man so good, that the world is an unfair place for her to be losing this when she'd only just begun to accept that she can have it. If only she hadn't been so wound up in her own mind and belief that she didn't need a man clouding up her life and her career. If only they'd had more time.

"We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your t—"

Just like that, his voice is lost to static, and for a moment, Peggy can hardly breathe. There one second and gone the next, as though he never existed, as though Steve had never touched the lives of so many.

"Steve?" There is nothing, and Peggy pays no mind to how she may appear, doesn't bother to hold back her tears. "Steve?" He doesn't answer, the first time he's ever failed her and most likely the last.

She covers her eyes, holding her breath to keep the sobs at bay.