The air felt heavy. How can air feel heavy? She inhales sharply, the air stale in her nostrils. Heavy and stale. Hospital. I must be in a hospital. How? Why am I in a hospital? Her eyes open slowly, staring up at a white ceiling, the gentle whirring of an overhead fan, pushing that stale heavy air, a radio playing and the occasional car horn honk reaching her ears. Her mouth feels dry, sandpaper tongue stuck to the roof of a sour feeling mouth. She pushes up onto her elbows slowly and sees she's on a cot, wearing an unfamiliar white t-shirt, the SSR logo emblazoned in the chest and a pair of khaki trousers. These were not her clothes and it was a point of consternation that someone had undressed her, hidden her clothes somewhere and put her in this. She wiggles her toes under the stiff cotton sheet and lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She looks around, takes in the wide open window, the breeze billowing the curtains, the monitor that has been shut off for awhile tucked into the corner by the top of the bed. Directly in front of the bed is a large white wooden door. Across from her is a nightstand where a radio sits, voices rambling something she still can't quite make out. Her head feels like it's been stuffed cotton and as she sits up, she hears the sound of footsteps approaching. She shifts, turns and swings her legs over the side of the bed, flexing her calves and ankles. She may be wearing an SSR shirt but this was decidedly not an SSR facility.

The door opened slowly and a young woman in a starched shirt and skirt entered, her hair done up and lipstick expertly applied. Everything about her glittered and sparkled. It made her very uneasy. "Good morning Agent Carter." She greeted, a hint of warmth in her tone despite how flat it still sounded to Peggy's ears. Peggy studied the woman, her green eyes holding her own gaze expectantly. She seemed familiar somehow but she just couldn't remember where she'd seen her. Peggy suddenly felt self-conscious. She must look a mess and she quickly brought her hands to her hair, trying to finger comb it out a bit. The woman approached, holding a tray, carefully balanced as she placed it onto a rolling table, pushing it towards Peggy expectantly. "You must be hungry."

"Who are you?" Peggy looked up from the tray, her stomach betraying her as she made eye contact with the woman in front of her, eyes quickly scanning for a name and rank. "Where am I?"

A look of sadness flickered across the woman's features before she adjusted herself, trying to assert some air of control in the situation. "You're in a hospital."

"I gathered as much." Peggy retorted, taking the glass of water the woman offered. She probably should've been less eager to drink it but there was something in the woman's eyes that said this wasn't laced with poison. If they wanted to kill her, they would've just done it. "Where?"

"You're in New York."

"What happened?"

She swallowed again, straightening up and looking around the room as though there would be an answer hidden somewhere. "You were in an accident."

Peggy's gaze pinned the woman to the spot, demanding her to continue without saying a word. She poured out another glass of water, drinking it as though the cold liquid was washing out the cobwebs. The woman had to admit Peggy still sent shivers down her spine. "An accident doesn't warrant this cozy little space. Where am I really?"

"You're in an SSR facility in New York. You were involved in a serious accident."

"Fatalities?"

She gave a curt nod, her fingers worrying at her sides. "Yes."

"Steve?"

"Captain Rogers is unaccounted for at the moment."

Peggy's eyes closed tight, her jaw set, lips drawn into a thin line. "Where is Howard Stark?"

"Mr. Stark is deceased."

"Was he the fatality?" Peggy looked up, eyes welling with tears she would not shed in front of this supposed officer. It was irking her that she couldn't quite place this woman, that her uniform was wrong and that the air, despite the open window and billowing curtains, was stale.

"Yes."

"Liar." Her reply was dangerous in tone, far more menacing than she intended. "Howard wasn't anywhere near me…" Peggy reached for the fork, palming it and standing up slowly. "You're going to start telling me the truth." Peggy stopped in her tracks. The floor was warm where it should've been cool and the air still hadn't moved; she felt nothing coming from the window. "What happened to me? What happened to Howard Stark?"

"Please don't press that into my brachial artery…" the woman replied, immediately backing up and allowing space. She dropped a small remote at her feet, hands up in surrender.

Peggy stilled, watching the woman as she backed up as far as she could in the room, her back pressed against the wall. "What's that for?" Peggy looked around the room again, really seeing it for the first time. She noticed a small camera in the far left corner, just above where the woman was standing, a steady red light indicating it was on and recording. "Who's watching us?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D." she replied, still eyeing the fork in Peggy's right hand.

"What's S.H.I.E.L.D?" Peggy asked, immediately turning and pushing the bed up against the door, blocking it as best she could. If they were heavily armed, she'd only bought herself a few seconds. She wasn't sure about the windows but she could use the woman as leverage; she didn't look like much of a fighter.

"The organization you started with Mr. Stark. Formerly the SSR." The woman's head canted to the side. "You don't remember anything do you?"

Peggy turned her attention from the door back to the woman still frozen by the far wall. "No I don't."

The woman swallowed hard, a wave of sadness washing over her as she bent to retrieve the small remote, still holding Peggy's intense gaze. "Let's trade." She pressed the button two long three short on the remote before holding it out to Peggy. "I'll take the fork, you take this."

"Why did you tell them stand down?"

The woman had forgotten Peggy was a code breaker. The corner of her mouth quirked into a sad smile as she replied, "I don't think you're going to hurt me."

"You thought I'd go for the lungs. Fairly confident I can just jam this into your eye socket and it'd be just as effective." Peggy said, still listening for footfalls on the other side of the door. Maybe they'll storm the windows. She reached over toward the radio and shut it off, still palming the fork in her hand.

"I trust you not to hurt me, Agent." She extended her hand farther, taking small tentative steps towards Peggy, the remote in her palm. Peggy turned the fork in her grip, the tines pressing into her palm as she held it out towards the woman, taking the remote with her left, holding eye contact as they exchanged items. That shiver passed down her spine again and the woman felt her resolve waver; she couldn't lie but she couldn't drop the truth on her so quickly either. "Thank you."

Peggy folded her arms across her chest, staring at the woman as she pocketed the fork and stood at ease. "What happened to me?"

"You were badly injured overseas on a rescue mission."

"Rescue mission? For whom?"

"James Barnes."

Peggy's eyes narrowed. Bucky. "How?"

"You very stubbornly left without telling anyone and by the time Thompson and overhead realized, they were essentially leaving on a recovery mission."

"Leviathan?"

"No, Hydra. We have been unable to track Leviathan."

"And Barnes?"

"Whereabouts unknown." She lied, hoping her voice sounded as neutral as possible. "We are still actively searching for him."

Peggy paced the room, eyes darting around, noting that the windows were fake the air was warm from a consistent airflow and the same horn honked every two minutes. Either traffic was slow or this was all a very intricate fabrication. The camera just above the woman was the only one in the room and if the woman needed to send signals out, it was possible that they weren't listening to the conversation. She rounded the bed and approached the rolling table, helping herself to the water, her stomach growling for the sandwich and fresh fruits that sat on the plate. With my luck, that's poisoned. She drank, eyeing the woman in her periphery. She was young, in relatively good shape, a little on the model side and jittery. "Who sent you?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Who really sent you? You're not an agent or an officer. You wouldn't have lasted ten minutes in boot with me."

"They said the same of Steve Rogers."

Peggy turned, the glass gripped in her hand tight enough to crack as she closed the distance between herself and the woman. She was close to knocking her out. "Just because I gave you the fork doesn't mean I won't find other things to kill you with."

"You won't hurt me, Agent. We both know that." The woman held Peggy's fiery gaze, her chest rising and falling as though she'd run a marathon in the two steps that Peggy cleared to stare her down. She was still stunning, even without make up and wielding a glass as a weapon. "I'm here because they felt you needed a face you could trust."

"They."

She nodded, belying a confidence she didn't feel. "S.H.I.E.L.D. You're still an agent and they still care."

"Your uniform is terrible." Peggy replied, ignoring the comment.

"I'll tell that to the people in charge."

Peggy looked up at the camera. "Terrible uniform."

The woman smirked, watching Peggy through her lashes. "I'm here because there are things that you need to know that may shock you. It was believed that it would be best to transition you with familiarity rather than just a briefing when you whenever you woke up."

"How long was I out?"

"Sixty years."

Peggy dropped the glass.

The woman immediately cleared Peggy, picking her up and depositing her back onto the bed, the strength and speed surprising both women. Peggy stared at the floor in shock before she scrubbed at her face with her hands. "I've been in this room for fifty years." She whispered through her fingers, voice muffled. She felt the warm air grow cold, a pair of hands wrapping around her wrists. The woman was crouched in front of her, her voice low, concern paining her tone.

"When you were found, the Russians…they'd put you in some kind of machine. It seemed they were trying to replicate the serum but had attempted to destroy all evidence of that, along with you. The team brought you back but you were unresponsive. Howard built a stasis chamber, based off of what they found you in and what…Captain Rogers had been in. When your vitals began to stabilize, you were taken out, put into ICU and finally here, on the off chance that you'd wake up."

Peggy was silent her eyes staring off into space; she vaguely recalled gunfire, climbing into an air vent but that could've just been last Tuesday with Mr. Jarvis. "Why can't I remember?"

"That will take some time. You were out for a bit." She waved her left arm around, encapsulating the room. "The eggheads figured that if you woke up somewhere that felt familiar, you could ease into everything."

Peggy pulled her hands away from her face, studying the woman with teary eyes. She wasn't a crier but when someone told you that you've been asleep for fifty years, one has to break with tradition. "Did a poor job."

The woman chuckled. She realized this was far too intimate for any agent or officer to be engaged in but they'd picked her, they'd asked her and she'd spent all this time waiting for this moment. "We have an apartment for you, all the amenities in place so that we can work on your recovery." She straightened up again, fixing her skirt and using the tips of her ring fingers to swipe away tears. Peggy looked up at the woman, surprised that she'd been crying. "I'll let the medical staff know you're awake."

"You mean they don't know?" Peggy drawled, nodding toward the camera.

"Protocol, Agent."

Peggy nodded. "Of course."

"Would you mind moving the bed? It's kinda the only way out of here." The woman said with a small smile, an accent Peggy recognized slipping through.

Peggy's brow furrowed as she shifted the bed away from the door. The woman opened it, pulled out the fork and held it out toward Peggy. "See you soon." She closed the door between them, her heart breaking at the prospect of what was to come.

"Not bad Martinelli." Natasha leaned up against the doorframe, watching Peggy as she approached the windows on a monitor. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, casually chewing gum.

Angie pulled her hair out of the bun, letting it cascade down her shoulders as she took a seat next to the closest monitor, watching Peggy as though she hadn't just spent ten minutes with her. She sighed and kicked off the dress shoes she'd been working on breaking in, flexing her toes under the console table. "Yeah, well…acting classes paid off."

"Forgot you were on Broadway." Natasha replied, dragging a nearby rolling chair and plopping in it. "You okay?" the haughty air she carried around disappearing as she leaned closer to Angie.

Angie nodded silently, eyes glassy as she watched Peggy analyzing the room, throwing things out of the window and shaking her head in disbelief. "Thank you for turning the sound off."

Natasha shrugged. "Figured you'd need a moment."

"What if she doesn't come back?" Angie whispered, watching Peggy opening the drawers with interest. Probably looking for a gun.

"She remembered Stark, Steve…"

"She didn't remember me." Angie couldn't hide the hurt in her voice as she fidgeted with a particularly stubborn button on her dress shirt. How did Peggy wear this for four years? "I was standing right in front of her and she didn't recognize me." She watched Peggy in the room. She seemed feral, as though the survivor part of her brain that had been in combat was still fighting to escape. Maybe she thought this was all part of Hydra or Leviathan; she was still a hostage somehow. "I'm in this get up and she just saw a person. She didn't see me."

"You should be glad she can even see. Some of those cryo things are a nightmare." Natasha offered, tossing her gum into the trash before leaning forward on her elbows and turning Angie's chair to face away from the monitors. "To be fair, she was a Popsicle for awhile, you can't expect everything to come rushing back at once. Steve couldn't remember how to tie his shoes for a couple months, we had to keep getting him those old man Velcro sneakers." Natasha replied noticing the way Angie bristled at the mention of her friend. "It's gonna take some time, you just gotta be patient."

Angie watched Peggy prod the sandwich with the fork before she looked up, right into the camera, right at Angie. Angie held her breath, her heart hammering in her chest as she held eye contact with Peggy through the monitor. Peggy lifted the sandwich and took a bite. "I hope so."