Chapter Text
Peggy Carter had worked with Howard Stark for years. They had grown accustomed to each other and all of their foibles. By this time, she had resigned herself to the fact that his flirtatious advances would not abate, and he had accepted that they would never work. She was also used to his apparent disinclination to follow orders, and he was used to her thoroughly scolding him for it. One could say that they had come to an understanding.
However, when it came to Howard's recklessness, Peggy's patience was wearing thin. That was even more true now that Colonel Phillips had retired – less of his own volition than of a medical order that he was getting too old to be an asset and not a liability – and Peggy had risen further in the ranks of the SSR, now called SHIELD. Now that she was technically Howard's superior, she was less willing to let his sophomoric neglect slide.
The final straw was when he missed a training exercise preparing for the Berlin Airlift without explanation. He came back late to an empty hangar, where Peggy was waiting for him with crossed arms. As he taxied into the hangar, she did not flinch, only watched him steadily.
The propeller had barely stopped spinning, and he had barely hopped out of the plane, when she began.
"And just where have you been?" she demanded. "There were men here who were depending on you to lead the formation, and you've been off gallivanting who-knows-where without a single thought for anyone—"
Her mouth opened to continue the inevitable tirade, but her voice died as Howard came closer. Rather than wearing his characteristic boyish smirk, his face was ashen.
"Peg… there's something you need to see."
At his words, Peggy's stern posture softened slightly. She felt herself grow cold, and gooseflesh rose on her arms.
"Well, what is it then?" she said impatiently.
Howard took a deep breath. She watched the gears turn in his head, trying to discern how to phrase things, but her sigh finally got it out of him.
"I found Steve."
All the blood seemed to run out of her face. She could feel it draining away. For once, she was completely speechless.
"I can take you to see him, if you want," Howard said delicately.
"I would," Peggy managed at last, remembering to breathe, though unevenly. "Thank you." It would be painful to see him, she knew - but she would always regret it if she did not pay her final respects to him.
"I, uh, dropped him off at the lab."
A sudden surge of anger filled her. "The lab? Whatever for? Don't you have the respect to bury him honorably?"
Howard waited patiently until she was done, toeing the cement with his boot. When Peggy had finished, he cleared his throat, then looked up into her eyes.
"See, the thing is," he said carefully, "he might not… be dead."
Once again, the power of speech failed her momentarily before Peggy managed to collect herself.
"We found his plane in an ice bank," Howard was explaining. His words sounded suddenly far-away, for Peggy was feeling strangely frozen and numb herself. "We don't know yet if it's the ice, or the serum, or what, but… something's kept him preserved."
Peggy steeled herself. Though he hadn't told her much, she had had some inkling that Howard was looking for Steve; it was just that, after a year of searching in vain, and then another, no one had expected anything to come of it. She did not dare hope, not yet. And she did not know if she could bear saying goodbye a second time. At least, however, this might give her a chance to say a proper goodbye.
"So they are… thawing him out?" she managed at last.
"They're trying."
Peggy nodded mutely.
"We're not sure how long it's going to take," Howard said gently. "But I've got enough gas to get back."
Peggy recognized an invitation when she heard one. "I suppose I'd better be there if he wakes up," she said quietly.
With a nod, Howard took her hand and helped her into the plane.
--
As Howard led her down the corridor of the lab, Peggy was silent. The place had been built to withstand everything from bombs to nuclear attacks from the outside, to explosions from Howard's latest experiments within. Peggy just hoped that Steve's skin had a bit more color in it than the cold gray of the austere walls.
"He's in here," Howard informed her gently. "Here. You'd better put these on."
Peggy obediently donned a lab coat that he pulled off a hook, though it was too big for her. She also put on the goggles that he handed her before Howard shrugged into his lab coat as well. Though she could face enemies unflinchingly, if even fearless Howard Stark wanted her to wear lab protection, she had better do it. Who knew what type of rays they were using to attempt to defrost Steve?
Howard opened the door and Peggy slipped inside.
Her breath caught as she beheld Steve lying flat on a table. Above him and on both sides of him were panels of lights - she could only imagine those were heaters - but she could still make out his unmistakable form. He was dreadfully pale and still.
"How long have they been at it?" she asked quietly, as Howard ushered her ahead of him into an observation room.
Howard checked his watch. "Let's see… About four hours now."
Pursing her lips, Peggy suggested, "Perhaps you'd better go so if they've made any progress."
With a nod, Howard stepped out once more.
From behind the glass, she watched Howard approach one of the technicians. Though she could not hear what they were saying, and it was difficult to read Howard's expression behind his goggles, she thought she could see his eyebrows lift.
Then Howard circled Steve, performing a visual assessment. Peggy could see him nod slightly, then stroke his chin in thought.
There was another brief exchange between Howard and a technician, and then Howard returned the both.
"Extraordinary," he muttered as he opened the door.
"What is?" Peggy asked impatiently.
Howard gave a slight shake of his head. "You're not gonna believe this, but… he's got a heartbeat."
Peggy felt her breath catch. For a moment, she felt her legs tremble, just slightly - it could only because she'd been standing for hours in these heels, and had nearly fallen asleep on her feet. Then she steadied herself.
"It's slower than should be humanly possible," Howard murmured, half to himself. "But it's there, alright."
"Do you mean to tell me that after three years of being frozen, Steve Rogers is alive?"
Howard nodded. "Sure seems that way."
For hours more, they waited. They alternated their watch with sleep and food, both of which seemed less important now.
Peggy had lost track of time. She knew that she might be missing something important at SHIELD, but she was sure that even if she had gone into work, she would have been quite useless. This was more important.
Now and then, she nodded off, only to snap back to attention. She could not have told what time it was when one of the technicians strode up to the observation booth and knocked on the glass.
Startled, Peggy straightened up; she must have dozed off again.
"Hot dog, it worked!" Howard crowed.
He hurried out of the booth and toward Steve.
"Turn it all off!" he ordered, and as soon as the rays had powered down, he snapped his goggles off.
Peggy's heels clicked rapidly on the floor as she hastened after Howard. Howard's enthusiasm could mean only one thing.
The lamps and heaters had been moved aside. She whipped off of her goggles to get a closer look, ignoring the warnings from the technicians. The machines were already off, and she didn't take orders from them - especially not at a time like this. She stood over Steve, watching, dumbfounded, as his eyelids fluttered. One of his hands flexed and released. He stirred. And then his eyes opened.
For a moment, his gaze was vacant; confused. Then he fixed on Peggy.
"Peggy?" he croaked.
With her mouth trembling with emotion, Peggy leaned forward. She tried to smile, but she was too afraid she might cry. "Yes," she managed, scarcely breathing. Tears choked her voice. "It's me, Steve."
Steve's eyes slid shut again; his brows furrowed.
"Is this... a dream?" he asked, his voice faint.
"No," she said at last - though surely she had dreamed of this moment many times, and believed it impossible. "I'm here." Her voice would not cooperate to allow her to say more.
Steve swallowed, then a frown touched his lips.
"Some water," Howard called, glancing over his shoulder. One of the techs ran off.
For another moment, he struggled to open his eyes again, but he succeeded. His gaze held hers.
"Steve," she said softly. "You…" She broke off, blinking, as tears caught on her eyelashes but fortunately did not have the gall to slide down her cheeks. You're alive, she meant to say. Instead, she said, much less rationally, "You're late."
The promise he had made to meet her at the Stork Club at 8 o'clock to dance, was one that neither of them had expected him to keep, but there had been something noble in the fiction. The absurdity of bringing it up again seemed somehow appropriate to the absurdity of Steve Rogers standing before her.
A faint smile touched Steve's mouth.
"Sorry," he said hoarsely. "Couldn't call my ride."
He broke off into coughing, and Howard shouted again for water. The technician returned with a glass, and handed it to Howard. Gingerly, and trying to look less nervous than she felt, Peggy helped Steve sit up so he could drink it. With her hand on his back, she realized with a start that Steve still felt icy cold.
"Easy now," Howard said. "Take your time."
Though three years ago, Steve had been a supersoldier in top fighting condition, he now needed help simply to sit up. Howard assisted her, and Peggy, instead, took the glass. Steve realized that it was difficult for him to move his arms just yet. And so with the utmost care, she lifted the glass of water to Steve's lips to help him drink.
"Thanks," he said shyly, when he had taken a small sip and swallowed.
Peggy couldn't stand that she looked embarrassed. She was still in disbelief that he was alive. Turning away, she placed the glass on a table. When she looked back at him, she blinked - still trying to convince herself that this was real. Perhaps she was dreaming, as Steve had surmised.
"You gave us a real scare there, Captain," Howard said.
"You're in one of Howard's labs," she explained, certain that Steve was wondering. "The technicians have been, ah, defrosting you." Hopefully Steve didn't ask her how, because she hadn't the faintest idea.
It was almost as though he were simply returning from another mission. Almost. But Peggy's relief – and her amazement – were amplified.
Steve's expression was somber. "How long was I out?"
Howard glanced at Peggy, as if hoping that she would be the one to break the news.
"It took us a while to find you," she started carefully, "but Howard was quite persistent. It's 1948, Steve."
Though Steve's eyes widened, he began to come to grips with this, and gave a slight shake of his head.
"Is the war over?" he asked seriously.
"Yes," Peggy assured him. World War Two had dragged on for quite some time, and every day she thanked God it was over. They were now facing an entirely different type of war, but she would get to that later. Steve deserved at least a few more hours to recover first. "And for that, the world owes you its thanks."
"I was just doing my job," Steve said modestly.
"You did a lot more than that, pal," Howard insisted.
For a minute, Peggy watched Steve. She had three years to get over him, to forgive him for his heroic self-sacrifice. She had tried to make her peace with it. But she had never quite been able to do so. Seeing him again though, alive, she could hardly be angry at him.
"I still can't believe it's over," Steve said in relief a moment later.
"The world still needs you," Peggy reassured him. After all, he was a soldier; she had always told him that he was meant for more than parades, and she had meant what she said. In her pride, she would not have brought herself to say aloud that she needed him, for she would admit that to no one. "But… don't you go trying to save it just now, alright?" she ordered, endeavoring to sound light-hearted.
He was in no shape to fight anything but death - but she would not put it past him to try.
Steve managed to smile. "If I'm here, God must want me alive for some reason."
"Actually, it has to do with the trajectory of the plane landing at a certain angle and the constantly shifting landscape of the ice, which preserved your body and the locked genetic code that prevented you from deteriorating," Stark put in, earning a look from Peggy. "Basically… ya got lucky."
As Stark was talking, Steve had looked back to Peggy. For a long and meaningful moment, he held her gaze; something passed between them that needed no words.
"It's Something more than luck, Mr. Stark," Steve respectfully disagreed.
"Well," Peggy said, resuming her professional attitude and clearing her throat. "If he's going to get his strength back, he'll need some sustenance."
"That would be nice," Steve admitted. "I feel like I haven't eaten in years."
He gave a characteristic charming grin, and Peggy pressed her lips together to hide the smile that was threatening to overtake her face.