Steve Rogers was sitting alone in his dreary apartment. His gaze was focused on the picture of Peggy Carter that rested on the wooden table next to him. His room had been decorated with furniture and objects that would have been seen in a typical 1940's home. To the modern day man it would have seemed like an exact replica of the time period, minus the blu-ray player that sat next to the television. But to Steve the room was nothing but a bad reminder that he was no longer in the time that he belonged. The objects were too perfectly preserved, the materials used to create the furniture were a cheap imitation of the real thing. It was all just so very fake.
The picture of his war time love was the only thing that he cherished in the apartment…besides his shield, that was tucked away in a traveling bag. The shield and the picture of Peggy were the only two things that Steve truly owned. But he knew that an image of the woman he loved was nothing but a reminder that he had lost her so many years ago.
Steve did not know what his plans would have been after the war. Whether he would have stayed with the military or perhaps even have become an astronaut. To be the first man on the moon and take the dangerous risks so that others wouldn't of had too. That would have been his dream job. No matter what he would have done, he did know one thing, he wanted Peggy at his side.
Maybe he would have left his role as the symbol of America. Maybe he would have just tried to have a normal life. The images began to flash through his head. He and Peggy would have gotten married. Perhaps they would have had a couple of kids. He had made a promise to himself that if he ever had a son he would name him Bucky, in memory of his long lost friend.
He could have gotten a regular job, like a regular joe, and Peggy…well Peggy probably would have been the one to lead the woman's liberation movement. She definitely didn't seem like the traditional housewife type. That didn't bother him, though. He didn't need a woman who could cook or someone who kept the house perfect. They could have done that together. They would split the responsibilities evenly. They would learn how to cook together and would celebrate every small victory of not burning the roast with a kiss.
Steve began to imagine how he would have taken her dancing. She would teach him and they would laugh at how bad he was at it. But he would get better. She would smile at him and gaze into his eyes. They would spend more time together. Laughing. Enjoying each others company. They would go away on trips together after the war. Paris was a city that they both loved, dearly. On top of the Eiffel tower is where he would have gotten down on one knee and proposed to her.
They would have grown old together. Every night before they went to bed they would have embraced each other in a passionate kiss and she would have fallen to sleep in his arms as he told her how much he loved her. When she was sick he would take care of her. He would not wait until Valentines day to buy her flowers. He would make random stops at the bouquet store, on the way home from work, and pick out a dozen of her favorite white roses and bring them home to her, just as another way of telling her how much he loved her. She was his everything and he would have shown her that every day.
It had occurred to him that he seemed especially depressed over Peggy today. It was more than likely due to the fact that today was Valentines day. The day where people spent their time with the ones they loved. Thousands…millions of men would buy chocolate and flowers for the women they cared about today. Steve would not be one of those men. The only thing that he could think about was all of the Valentines days he had lost over the years, with Peggy.
Steve had to get out of the apartment. He wasn't doing anyone any good by moping about what he had lost. Lately, however, that was all he seemed to do. Steve threw on his jacket and headed towards the door. Just as he opened it and was about to leave he noticed the brown bag sitting in the chair next to the exit. It contained his uniform, his drawing pad, and most importantly, his shield. Steve really wasn't in the mood to sketch anything and he didn't expect to come across an invading alien army…but there was always that chance.
"You never can be too careful." Steve thought to himself as he picked up the bag, threw it around his shoulder and headed towards the city streets. Besides, the last time he let something he cherished out of his site he lost her. There was no way he was going to lose the second most important girl in his life, his shield.