Chapter Text
The war may have ended, but Peggy Carter was at war with herself - fighting her feelings every day. When she poured the last of his blood into the river that day, she couldn’t have known it wouldn’t fix her. No feeble ceremony, no New Year’s resolution, no line in the sand ever would. There were days spent entirely in her mind, wondering if he still thought of her wherever his spirit rested. There were nights she fell asleep sobbing. She’d had a perfectly good man, but her memories never faded and her imagination only grew stronger. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to her. She threw herself into her new job and home, picked up several new hobbies, volunteered, exercised, and when all of that still wasn’t enough she went with Angie to the dance halls and imagined the music filling her body - from her toes to the top of her head - until all other functions were secondary. She was still in love with Steve Rogers, and she could do nothing about it.
Today provided no relief to the war raging inside her mind. She had decided long ago that she would live her life in a way that honored what Steve stood for - selflessness, bravery, patriotism. She even found herself looking at the photo on her desk for guidance over the years, searching his comforting face for answers. She had convinced herself this was good for her and provided closure, but lately she wasn’t so sure. The files sat in front of her. She had difficult decisions to make, decisions that could cost lives, decisions where neither option was honorable. She glanced at the photo then picked it up. “Why am I doing this?” She questioned herself then the photo. “Why can’t I get over you? You’re not even here.” Angry tears began to flow. She set the frame down a little too hard. The glass shattered, puncturing her thumb. “Damnit!” She cried out, more tears flowing. A quick knock barely preceded her office door being thrown open. “Hey, Peg, I need you to sign - ” It was then that Howard Stark looked up from his clipboard. “Peggy, my god, what’s wrong?” ”I broke the picture.” She said shakily before dissolving into tears. “Jesus, Peg.” Howard strode over quickly, dropped his clipboard on her desk, and inspected her hand. He took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her thumb. He looked at his handkerchief slowly turning red then at Peggy’s tears blackened with mascara rolling down her face. “This is a very expensive tie.” He smiled as he wiped her face with it. Peggy exhaled a small chuckle. “There we go. That was worth it.” Howard said as he pushed back a piece of hair that had stuck to Peggy’s wet face. “I should’ve known. I’ve felt out of sorts all day too.” It had been three years to the day.
“I’ll have Jarvis stop by with dinner.” Howard declared as she reappeared in her office, her face freshly powdered. “Howard, that really isn’t necess-” “You clearly can’t cook; you’re injured.” Howard interrupted, gesturing to the band aid on her thumb. Peggy rolled her eyes. He had cleaned up the glass and thrown away the frame. “The picture?” She asked. “I couldn’t salvage it, but I have the original and one of our after school program kids has been working on enlargements. Pym, I think. It’ll be a good project for him.” Peggy smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Howard, for everything.” “Don’t mention it.” He grabbed her in a hug and pecked her forehead. “Love you, Peg.” “Love you too.” He started for the door but stopped halfway, turning on his heels. “Don’t tell any of my girlfriends I know the L-word.” “Get out of here, Howard.” “Go home, Carter.” He always had to have the last word.
Peggy did go home a bit early all the while irrationally angry at taking Howard’s advice. Jarvis brought a lasagna to be heated whenever she pleased, Peggy’s favorite pie from Angie’s old diner (her headshot hung on their wall of fame now), and bouquet of flowers Ana had grown and plucked. “Are you sure you’re alright, Ms. Carter? I could go back for Ana. We could have dinner together?” “I am absolutely fine, Mr. Jarvis. Give Ana my love. Benny Goodman will be on before you know it,” she joked, “You’d better not be late!” She practically pushed him out the door. She put the lasagna in the fridge deciding that pie was a perfect substitute for biscuits with a late afternoon tea - and that dinner wasn’t nearly as important.
She had just taken a sip and turned on the radio when she heard the knock at the door. She groaned then immediately felt guilty. Jarvis was terribly sweet, but he couldn’t take a hint. She went to open it, speaking loudly “I assure you, Mr. Jarvis, I am -” She opened the door, and everything stopped. The birds paused in the air, the children playing catch froze with their baseball midair, the cars stopped in the middle of the street, the sun ceased its descent on the horizon. All the air exited her lungs when she gasped. “I’m sorry I’m late, Peggy.” The teacup crashed to the floor.