I will see him again one day.

I know this as surely today as I knew it seventy years ago in the 1940s while I listened to the awful sound of static coming over the radio declaring that I had lost contact with Steve Rogers. Presumably, I had lost contact with him forever. His plane was going to crash; he was going to die – if not on impact then within the following twenty-four hours. That really was all that there should have been to it. Logically, I knew this. Logically, I still do know this.

But I never was able to shake the feeling that I would see him again one day.

"Good morning, Miss Carter," the voice of the random nurse that hurried into Peggy's room was cheerful that morning as she brough in Peggy's breakfast.

Peggy noticed this while she sat in her wheelchair, turned away from the nurse as she looked out the window of her room in the London nursing home. It wasn't the false sort of cheer that was so much a part of this sterile hospital in a see-through disguise; this was real cheerfulness. This nurse may actually have been one of the rare ones whom truly enjoyed working in this place.

"Good morning," Peggy answered tiredly.

"Having trouble waking up this morning, are we?" the nurse asked, a thread of concern finding its way into her voice.

"A little," Peggy admitted.

She turned her wheelchair from the window so that she was now facing the nurse whose nametag read "Becky." Peg smiled a little at the young girl – everyone seemed young to her nowadays, but Becky had to have come to this job fresh from grad school.

Becky suggested, "Maybe some television to wake you up while you eat?"

Peg tried to widen her smile, seeing that the girl was trying so hard, and nodded her head in agreement. Becky flipped on the television that Peggy rarely thought to use and then she went about arranging Peggy's breakfast.

The television was on a news channel, and for a minute Peg just watched the muted screen with a bored gaze. Then the news segment changed. Peg blinked, rubbed her eyes, and shook her head, but the segment never changed and neither did the news caption.

WWII HERO BURIED IN ICE FOR 70 YEARS STILL ALIVE

A picture of Steve Rogers appears on the television screen – the Steve that Peggy remembers so vividly – but it's not an old photo; it's a current one.

"Can you turn that up please?" Peggy asked the nurse urgently.

"Sure," Becky smiled and moved to do as she had been asked. "See, I told you this would get you nice and awake."

Peggy shook her head, whispering in awe, "You have no idea."

Two years later

She still recognized his steps. For all of the things that she was forgetting – not to mention the way her hearing was going – and she still knew his steps when she heard them, even after all of this time. She was back to looking out the window when she heard them, the antsy click of his army boots against the hard, cold linoleum tiles of the nursing home.

And then he was there. Even without turning around, she could hear the nervous hitching of his breath; feel the change in the very air around her. While she judged him to be nervous without even looking at him, she felt surprisingly calm. After all, she had known that this day would come for practically forever, and for the past two years, she'd simply been waiting for him to show up. It sure had taken him long enough.

"Hi, Peg," he said softly.

She turned her wheelchair around and smiled graciously at the young man who looked so stunningly the same as he had seventy years ago. "Hello, Steve."

I hope you enjoyed this. I would appreciate it if you told me how you think I did - even if you think I did poorly - since this is my first time writing anything Marvel related. Thanks!