Work Text:
“Hello?”
“Captain Rogers? This is Judith from Rose Acres nursing home. You may want to sit down.”
Peggy Carter was dead. She had passed in her sleep, they said, and with a smile on her face. The funeral would be in England, and she would be buried in the same graveyard as her parents, as stated in her will. Her son William received the family estate, her daughter Caroline received her grandmother’s pearls. Her whole family was accounted for, even down to her great-niece Sharon. There appeared to be no loose ends or unfinished business.
It was raining when they lowered her body into the ground behind the old stone church. It was a modest affair, for a woman so great. Much of her family was in attendance and some old friends who still lived. Indeed the most notable and prestigious of the people there was one Steve Rogers, who sat quietly in the back of the church for the duration of the ceremony.
As Steve walked back to his car, he was approached by a short, old man in a slightly rumpled suit. “My name is Davis,” he said in a shaky voice, “And I was the executor of Margaret’s will.” He paused, composing himself before continuing and pressing something into Steve’s hand. “She left this for you.” Davis sighed before putting a hand on his shoulder and walking away, saying, “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Captain.”
Steve stood, watching the man hobble down to his car and leave, rooted to the spot with his fist clenched, before slipping it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before Caroline came up beside him, bumping his shoulder gently. “She would have hated this, you know. The fact that it’s raining. She would say that the world needn’t make this much of a fuss over her, no. She would want sunshine, I think. A nice, bright day.”
“She would.” He turned to her, tears forming in his eyes, “She was-, she w-”
Caroline turned to face him fully. “Oh, Steve. Come here.” She hugged like she didn’t know what else to do with herself, as Captain America cried into her shoulder. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through. She was my mum and I’ll miss her terribly, but I’ve known this was coming for a long time. You only had her for a little while, oh Steve.” After a few moments, she let him go, rubbing his upper arms. “You’ll come along to my house, yes? We’ll have dinner, and I will make up the guest bedroom for you. How does that sound?”
“I have a hotel Caroline, I’ll just-”
“No. You need people, Steven Grant Rogers, and you have none of your own. So you will come with me and stay at my house. Are we clear?”
He let out a small huff of a laugh. “Yes, we’re clear.”
“Splendid.”
After dinner, Steve brought up the object Davis had given him, revealing it to be a simple key attached to an orange tab inscribed with a number.
“Don’t quote me on this, Steven, but I think this is to an old storage locker of mum’s in New York if you can believe that,” Caroline said, turning the key in her hand. “It was near the flat she lived in while there. I'll see if I can find it for you.”
Steve smiled, “I would appreciate that ma'am.”
"Oh shush you." After several mishaps with the computer, (and despite Steve’s insistence that he could find it on his own, he does know how computers work) Caroline’s son was finally called down to help. It still stood, and Steve planned to visit the storage unit as soon as possible.
For now, though, he could stay with Peggy’s family, work through his grief, and not worry about the obligations of being an Avenger for a while. He could leave Sam to the on-going search for Bucky, and just be Steve for a bit.
__________________________________________________________________
He found out through the news she was dead. Margaret “Peggy” Carter. He didn’t know her, but every time he heard the name he recalled the smell of alcohol, gunpowder, and the color red.
Bucky knew her. Bucky was the one who was jealous of her, in awe of her. Bucky was the one who, if he was honest, was a little bit in love with the way she loved Steve. Bucky was. Not him.
Which begged the question: why was he here? He was still looking for him. (You’re my friend) He couldn’t be found. Not by him. (I’m with you til the end of the line) He had to leave, he couldn't stay, what was he doing, why was he here?
But. He remembered the color red and placed a single rose over the grave. She had become Bucky’s friend, by the end, and she was better than all of them combined.
And now she was gone.
And so was he.