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June 18, 1949
Steve hadn't realized the date until he saw it written in black and white. June 18.
His heart felt heavy in his chest. But it didn't make any sense to feel so affected by it, it hadn't happened yet, technically.
She's gone. In her sleep.
It was a lifetime ago, another world entirely, but the memory still threatened to drag him down into the dark depths of grief.
“The Dodgers haven't lost, have they?”
Steve looked up, startled.
“Not that I'm a fan, particularly,” Peggy paused, elegantly lifting her teacup to her lips, “but I've got some plans for you today, and I'd prefer it if you weren't in a bad mood.”
She sipped slowly, and Steve was distracted by her throat as she swallowed. Pale skin marred with purple bruises, reminding Steve of his lips at her throat.
“Plans?” He asked.
Peggy raised her eyebrow, a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Yes, plans. ”
The paper was tossed aside and quickly forgotten as Steve rose to his feet and walked around the table until he stood towering over Peggy.
She was in nothing but her bathrobe, one tug of the waist tie was all it would take to have her nude in the middle of their kitchen.
With Peggy still seated, she could see exactly the direction his thoughts had taken him.
“Steady on,” she said, looking pleased as she placed her teacup down on its saucer.
With the delicate crockery out of the way, Steve leaned down, crowding Peggy, and wrapped his arms around her. Their lips met and Steve drank her in, her taste, her smell, her warmth in his arms.
Peggy's fingers scraped against his scalp and he groaned, shamefully loud. But Peggy simply laughed into his mouth and continued to rile him up. He loved her like this, playful, bold, vital, alive.
He lifted her into her arms and she laughed in his ear. He carried her to the bedroom – their bedroom – and dropped her carefully onto their unmade bed.
She lounged back against the pillows, the robe slipping aside to reveal her thigh.
“We’ll have to find a housekeeper if we carry on like this,” she teased, nodding to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Steve knew she was joking, even with their salaries combined it was a luxury they couldn't afford.
But Steve still took the bait.
“I'll get to it,” he promised. “I have something more urgent I need to see to first.”
He pulled off his undershirt and tossed it on the growing laundry pile, then climbed over Peggy.
“You're going to see to me, are you?” she murmured low in his ear.
“Yes ma'am,” he growled in return.
June 18, 1950
Steve had been feeling off all day, but he couldn't put a finger on why. It wasn't unusual for him to have bad days, he could admit that he'd seen a lot, and even with Peggy by his side, his memories still weighed heavy on his mind some days more than others.
He tried to distract himself with housework, and was busy cooking when Jarvis called. Jarvis's voice was tight.
Peggy was hurt. Badly.
The run there was a blur. Steve didn't know if he'd even shut the door behind him. He couldn't say with certainty if he'd put shoes on his feet. He only knew for certain that he had to get to Peggy.
But even with his enhanced speed, he was too late. Peggy lay in a pool of blood, her open eyes gazing up at nothing. Steve scooped her into his arms and tried to wake her, but her head just lolled lifelessly away from him.
He pressed his hand to her cheek and forced her empty gaze to meet his, but she was already gone.
“Peggy! ” he yelled, shaking her. “ Peggy, ” his voice broke as he begged her to stay with him.
“Shhh,” she soothed him, but her lips didn't move.
Steve couldn't catch his breath.
“My darling,” Peggy murmured, her fingers stroking through his hair.
Steve's whole body jolted, and he blinked his eyes open to their dimly lit bedroom.
“You're safe, I'm here,” Peggy whispered. She pressed a hard kiss to his temple as his mind caught up.
His body registered the sensations in pieces, the thick blankets covering his body, one leg exposed to the frigid night air, Peggy's arm around his shoulders, her free hand in his hair, then at his cheek.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
He blinked up at Peggy. He couldn't form words, so he just nodded and rolled into her. With his nose pressed to her collarbone he could reassure himself that she was here, alive, and whole.
“You'll be alright, won't you?” Her voice helped to keep him in the present, and he clung to her as his breathing slowed.
It was just a nightmare, he told himself.
June 18, 1953
“Mama!” Maggie squealed, hands reaching out towards Peggy.
Peggy walked slowly into the kitchen, out of breath with the extra weight she was carrying. She kissed the top of their daughter's head, carefully avoiding sticky little fingers, then sat down heavily in the chair beside her.
Steve placed a cup and saucer down in front of Peggy, quickly followed by the teapot and milk jug.
He turned back to the stove to crack two eggs into the sizzling frying pan.
“You're getting awfully good at this.” Peggy said from behind him. He turned to see her delicately sipping her tea. “Or perhaps I've just become so accustomed to dreadful American tea, that this simply seems good by comparison.” She sipped again, hiding a smile.
Steve chuckled, “and to think, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”
He turned and took the bread out of the toaster, then twisted the lid off the marmalade.
“I suppose it's better if I get up. Lying in bed all day won't help this baby come any sooner.”
Steve looked at the calendar hung on the kitchen wall, the big X that marked Peggy's due date – three days ago – glared back at him. It was only then that he noticed the date. June 18.
Steve spun on his heels, “let's get out of the house today, we can take Maggie to the park.”
Maggie laughed and clapped her hands at the mention of her name.
“Would you like that darling?” Peggy pinched her rosy cheek. Maggie clapped again in response.
Peggy sighed heavily. “I suppose a walk might do me some good.”
“A resounding yes,” Steve laughed as he turned back to flip the eggs.
After breakfast Steve helped both his girls get ready. Peggy only needed help with her stockings and shoes, but grumbled considerably more than their daughter, who clapped and cheered at Steve as he dressed her.
He suspected that was his doing. He was always eager to encourage her whenever she completed a task, and it seemed to have caught on.
The walk to the park was slow, but a welcome distraction. The sun was bright and the park was awash with color. Vibrant pinks and yellows had Steve vowing to return with his watercolors.
“You ought to paint this,” Peggy said, as if reading his mind.
“I’ll get on that right away, I won't have much time once this guy joins us,” he said, patting her belly.
“Guy?” Peggy echoed.
“Oh no,” he laughed, “I'm not giving any hints, I didn't mean anything by it.”
They'd had this conversation too many times to count, besides, he had no idea how fixed the future was. Although he'd managed to change a few key events, there was still so much that happened the way it had before.
“Drat.”
Steve got Peggy situated on a bench before leading Maggie to the swings.
He lost track of time pushing her on the swings, catching her at the bottom of the slide, and chasing her around the jungle gym. By the time he returned to Peggy, Maggie was yawning and rubbing her eyes.
“Oh, my darling, has your father worn you out?”
As if on cue, Maggie yawned, which triggered Steve to yawn too.
“Naps all round, I should think,” Peggy said.
Steve reached out his hand and pulled Peggy to her feet. By the time they got home Peggy was yawning, Maggie was fast asleep on his shoulder, and Steve had completely forgotten the significance of the day.
June 18, 1958
For the first time in several years, Steve had been dreading this day. When the kids had been at home and keeping him on his toes, he had had little time to dwell on the past, or, more accurately, the future.
But this year was different. With both kids in school, Steve's days looked significantly different. Even though the house was only quiet for a few hours, it was enough time and enough stillness for Steve's mind to start taking him down paths he didn't like.
Peggy was already gone by the time Steve got up, which had been happening more often recently, and was something Steve hated. But she'd just been promoted, so he didn't fight her on it.
He got the kids ready and off to school, cleaned up the house, did a load of laundry, made his lunch, then did what he often spent his afternoons doing – he read.
But as he flipped the page, his memories hit him hard. He'd been flipping through the pages of the Sokovia Accords when he'd received the text about Peggy.
He couldn't imagine a world so far from his current reality, the coldness of a text message telling him something so unbearable in so few words.
He took comfort from the fact that now, in his new reality, he wouldn't find out about Peggy's passing via a text message, he imagined he'd be at her side, holding her hand. But that took him down another path he didn't want to go down – the inevitability of Peggy dying before him.
Steve took a deep breath and snapped the book shut. He decided to head outside and mow the lawn. It didn't need doing, but he was going to do it anyway.
He hadn't been outside for long when a car came screeching down the quiet road, Steve looked up and recognised it immediately. Peggy pulled sharply into their driveway then slammed on the breaks.
Steve shook his head as she got out, and opened his mouth to fret over her driving, but Peggy held up a hand to stop him.
“Save it, I was well within the speed limit.” She slammed the door and Steve read her mood instantly, it wasn't good.
“Is everything–”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Steve was still trying to decipher her expression when she pushed him down onto the sofa and climbed on top of him.
It wouldn't be the first time Peggy had come home early from work just to make love to him, it had actually been an almost regular occurrence in their early days. But she usually arrived home with more excitement, and less…
Peggy sniffled, and Steve suddenly noticed the tear that had overflowed and slid down her cheek.
She pressed her face against his neck, hard , it felt as though she was trying to burrow into him. Steve wrapped her up into his arms and held her tight as she started to sob. He didn't hound her with questions, he knew the answers would come when she was ready.
“I'm going to break Thompson's neck,” she eventually mumbled against his shirt.
Steve sighed. He should've known. The asshole that Peggy couldn't seem to shake had just been transferred to her division.
“I'll get the shovel,” he said, "if we leave now we should be back in time to pick up the kids.”
Peggy laughed.
They sat entwined together in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the ticking clocks, the birds singing outside, the occasional car passing by.
The weight of Peggy on top of him was exactly what he needed to keep him in the present. He held her tight, and pressed his nose to the top of her head, breathing her in.
She was here now, and in spite of everything, they were here together, and that was all that mattered.