Chapter Text
PART ONE
Peggy Carter sighed, her index finger tracing the length of the photograph in her hand. The angelic face of Steve Rogers was staring up at her in black and white, wearing his full Captain America gear (without the mask). He was looking slightly to the side, his expression composed and determined.
He looked exactly as Peggy remembered him.
It had only been a few short months since the Schmitt incident, her Steve having sacrificed his life to save countless others. Only a few short months since she’d last heard her love’s voice. Seen him smile. Been held by him in his arms.
Peggy willed herself not to cry. She’d sworn to herself that she was going to get better; she was going to stop obsessing over Steve— obsessing over the what ifs. Because their time had passed now. Steve had proven himself to be the man that Dr Erskine had believed in and by being a good man, it meant that he couldn’t be her man.
“Oh stop it,” she muttered to herself, berating her inner crybaby for the tears that pooled in her eyes whenever she thought of Steve. Peggy constantly wondered why life had to of been so cruel. Why did Steve have to die? Why had their romance, their love, had to of been so short?
They’d only known each other for a limited amount of time but Peggy knew that no man would ever really be able to compare to Steve Rogers. The tears that escaped her eyes dropped down onto the picture, the small beads of water running off Steve’s face and onto the floor.
She could still remember how it felt to have Steve’s lips be pressed up against hers. The memory of the warmth that radiated off his body giving her chills as she bit her lip.
It had been the night before Steve had sacrificed himself, a meeting about strategy and military tactics having just finished, when the blonde man had pulled her to the side. His eyes had been so piercing and beautiful as they bored into hers, something serious in his expression as he whispered to her.
“This mission is going to be dangerous, Peggy,” Steve had sighed, a look of resignation in his face as he’s talked. “And in case anything goes wrong— in case something bad happens, i just want you to know . . .”
“Steve, i know,” she’d whispered back, love shining through her eyes as she’d looked up at the man she knew now owned her heart and soul. He would give anything (including his life) to keep her and their country safe. And Peggy admired his courage because of that.
“You do?” The unspoken fact of what she knew wasn’t acknowledged between the blonde and brunette.
Peggy had bitten the inside of her lip as she’d nodded. “Yes and i do too.”
Steve hadn’t wasted time in kissing her then, leaning in to press his lips against hers with passion and love. Their union had been brief and it had left Peggy wanting more as she’d unattached her legs from Steve’s waist as the man had sighed into her ear, kissing the side of her face with tenderness.
“Everything will turn out alright Steve,” Peggy had smiled as she’d sorted out her skirt, one hand pressed to Steve’s cheek. The man lent into her grip, turning his head to the side to kiss her palm.
It turns out that Peggy had been wrong: it hadn’t worked out.
“Peggy?” Angie Martinelli called from the other side of the door. “You okay in there?” The sounds of Peggy’s muffled sobs, the tap running to try and hide her tears as she’d locked herself in the bathroom, was starting to scare her friend.
“I’m all right Angie!” Peggy called out, using the same tone she always used when she was lying. It was clear her friend didn’t believe her because she just knocked on the wooden door again and asked if she could come in. “Very well.”
“How you doing?” Angie’s voice was sad as she spotted Peggy sitting on the side of the bathtub, Steve’s picture in one hand and dried tear tracks running down her face. She moved to sit beside her, hands in her lap as she waited for her friend to open up.
“I’m fine, Angie, seriously,” Peggy tried again, a small sniffle betraying her.
“Except you aren’t,” Angie sighed, wrapping one arm around her friend and pulling her in. “I know you miss him.”
“I’m late,” Peggy whispered. Admitting the fact out loud caused her hands to shake and she gripped Steve’s picture tighter so he wouldn’t fall down to the floor. Angie just looked at her quizzically.
“For what?”
Peggy liked her lips, pressing them together in a thin line when they began to tremble. She gave Angie a look and repeated the sentence again, putting more emphasis on her words now.
“Oh,” Angie suddenly understood, her eyebrows shooting up as she ingested the meaning. Peggy was expecting. “And it’s . . .”
“It’s his,” Peggy nodded, her eyes going back to the blue eyed, blonde man that looked so serious and brave in his picture. His features were chiseled out and the picture didn’t do justice to his true handsomeness.
“Oh darling, isn’t that a good thing?” Angie smiled slightly, placing a hand on Peggy’s shoulder with care. “Now you’ll always have a piece of him with you! There’s no need to cry Peggy, this is a blessing.”
A blessing.
Peggy carried Angie’s words with her throughout her entire pregnancy, repeating them like a mantra each time she was given a nasty look for being a single mother or simply having had sex out of wedlock. She mumbled the words to herself each time she began to miss Steve. Repeated them over and over when her head was in a toilet bowl, the morning sickness leaving her nauseous for hours.
When her baby was born, the birth taking an agonising 13 hours with Angie standing by her side the entire time, Peggy mouthed the phrase once again as her son was placed in her arms. Tears rolled down as her face as the screaming baby wriggled and moved around on her chest before settling down in the comfort of his mother’s arms.
“A boy,” Angie had a dopey smile on her face as she stared down at Peggy’s son. “He’s perfect, Peggy.”
Peggy just nodded, kissing her son’s tiny fist. The baby was perfect and whilst her heart ached for Steve, Peggy couldn’t help but ignore her heartbreak as she fell in love with her son.
“Have you got a name?” The nurse smiled down at the mother and son. She was an elderly women with a few thousand wrinkles lining her face and grey hair peaking out from her nurse hat.
“Peter,” Peggy spoke the words before she realised what she was saying. She’d spent her entire pregnancy liking and hating names but every time she’d seen the name Peter, she’d passed over it. But as she held her son in her arms now, she knew he was a Peter. He was her Peter.
“How lovely,” the nurse smiled again, cooing at the newborn before walking out to go inform Howard and Jarvis (who sat in the waiting room) about the new arrival.
“You can do this Peggy,” Angie gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze as her other finger wobbled in front of Peter’s face. “You won’t be alone.”
And Peggy wasn’t alone— never when it came to Peter. Angie was there every step of the way, playing the perfect Aunt to a growing Peter and sneaking him snacks whenever she thought that Peggy wasn’t looking. Howard stopped by almost by routine, bringing over his new girlfriend Maria on a few visits too. He never really interacted with Peter, who would shuffle across Peggy’s apartment floor and babble when he could. Howard much of a babies fan but Peggy guessed the fact that Peter was related to the one and only Captain America meant Howard gave Peter the exception.
Peggy sighed as her eyes roamed over to the calendar on the side. On this day, 5 years ago, Steve Rogers died. As if to signify the chilling memory, a gush of freezing cold air breaks into the apartment. Snow is beginning to lightly fall outside as Peggy crosses the room to the close window, slamming it shut with enough force to break it.
It was silent in the apartment (something she didn’t take lightly when there was a 4 year old living under her roof) and Peggy’s mind drifted to her son. Peter, a little boy whose heart was just as big as his father’s, except looked exactly like Peggy.
At first she’d been disappointed that Peter resembled her more than Steve; with the boy’s curly brown hair and brown eyes, there was nothing in Peter’s face that looked like his father. But his heart and brave personality was all Steve.
Peggy smiled as she crept to Peter’s room, watching as he slept. She knew Steve would’ve been proud of their son. How could he not?
The window was open again when Peggy returned to the living room. A frown grew on her face as something akin to panic began to dawn on her. She could’ve sworn that she closed that window. Before she could even pick up her gun from where it was stashed in the drawer by her sofa, something sharp went into her neck. Darkness swallowed her.
When Peggy woke up, however many hours later, the apartment was freezing cold and snow had started to settle on the floor by the open window. Peggy’s head pounded and her muscles ached as she picked herself up from the wooden floorboards, trying to remember what had happened.
As if lightning struck her, fear curled itself in her stomach and Peggy raced down the hall to her son’s bedroom. A cry ripped out of her throat as she stared into the empty room. Peter’s bedsheets were thrown on the floor and his favourite toy, a scrubby old bear with a Captain America mask on its head, was laying dejectedly on the vacant bed.
Tears rolled down Peggy’s face as she sobbed, her breathing hitching as she fell to the floor.
5 years after Steve died, Peggy lost her son.
Never for one-second did she stop trying to find him.