A box of memories!
It's been four months since Steve's plane went down.
Peggy receives a box with all his personal effects. She slowly goes through it.
She thought she had cried all the tears she could cry, always in secret, always on her own, stoic to the world but falling apart in private. Had it really been four months since Steve went missing? Could it have been that long? Was it really that recent? The ache was so permanently settled in her heart that time had lost relevance. She carried her pain like a heavy load and when the pain got too much she retreated and shed the tears that were always so close to the surface.
Everyone seemed to know she was something to Steve Rogers. The definition of what she was to him was speculation on their part. His team knew she was very special to him and had been tender and respectful of her. They had loved their captain. They had served beside him; he had protected them, led them, earned their respect and knew the man he really was. They knew Captain Rogers very well. She knew Steve.
She sat alone in her room, staring out the window, a cup of tea that was slowly growing cold in her hand. Her mind was miles away. She had replayed every moment they had spent together. So many precious moments tucked away. She didn't want to forget one memory. She relived them night after night to make sure they were fresh and clear in her head and heart. She fought to remember his voice and his touch. If she could recall all of that then he couldn't be truly gone and could walk through her door at any moment. A silly hope, a childish hope, a desperate hope.
"I'm going to need a rain check on that dance?"
"We'll have the band play something slow."
The dance she longed for, dreamed about, wished for, ached for, the dance that would never be. A tear rolled down her cheek and with anger she brushed it away. This had to stop. She had to move on. She must not allow her nights consumed in grieving Steve. She knew it. She understood it. Her mind understood what her heart would not accept.
She sat the cup down and walked into the living room. She turned on the old record player, carefully placing the record on the turntable and setting the needle in the place she put it every night. Bing Crosby's voice filled the emptiness of the room.
"I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places,
That this heart of mine embraces all day though.
I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you."
She sat glumly on the window seat. Her mind screamed to stop this nonsense. She was efficient and disciplined. At work she was the master of her emotions. No one saw the fissure of pain that lingered under the surface, but in the privacy of her room, the pain opened up and nearly consumed her every night.
Men paid attention to her. She noticed it. She saw their eyes linger on her figure. They looked at her, but no one ever looked at her the way Steve had. These men looked with lust in their eyes, Steve looked at her with admiration and respect. His glances were shy and sometimes awkward but also sweet and tender. She had loved the way his face colored when he was caught looking at her. He stumbled over his words. He was endearing and honest.
The needle repeatedly hitting on the end of the record stirred her from her thoughts.
She closed the drapes and turned off the lights, the only light was the small lamp beside her bed. She slipped of her slippers and robe and climbed between the cool sheets. Shutting off the light she stared into the darkness. His voice in her head, "I got to put her in the water-Peggy it's my choice."
She closed her eyes tight, trying to keep the tears from falling. "Please come home." She whispered the words into the darkness. Sleep finally found her as did her dreams. Dreams of Steve, his smile, his brilliant blue eyes, his laugh, and the moments they had shared.
Agent Carter typed resolutely, as she glanced down from time to time at the files spread out on her desk. The ugliness of war seemed to be coming to an end. Victory was tangible. The air was filled with energy and excitement along with apprehension. So many lives had been lost. So much destruction surrounded them. There was hope however. V-E day had brought cheering in the streets. Flags raised, planes flying in victory not battle. She had watched the cheering crowds from the window in the office. Relief. That was the one thing she felt, relief. Elation couldn't get past the barrier of bereavement that surrounded her. The war was won, but Steve was gone. He had paid the ultimate price.
She realized her fingers were no longer flying over the keys of the typewriter but frozen in place. Her mind had wandered too far. She cleared her throat, sat up straighter and pushed a curl of dark hair behind her ear. Her red nails resumed their clicking on the typewriter. She was so engaged in her work she failed to see Lt. Falsworth come up to her desk. He sat a box down on the floor and smiled warmly at her. "Agent Carter."
Peggy looked up, a warm smile spread on her face. "Lieutenant. How are you? I heard Dum Dum was injured. How is he?"
"Quite ornery, meaning he is doing fine. He should be released in a few days." His smile was always warm. Other than Steve, he was the only other officer of the team, well-bred, educated and very English.
"I'm very happy to hear that." She suddenly felt a bit sad. Seeing any of the team reminded her of Steve. They were heartbroken he had been lost. She forced a smile. "So what are your plans now?"
"I imagine we have a great deal of mop of work to do. After that, I don't know. I was drafted into this war. It was not a career choice, but now I can't imagine any other life."
"I suppose you are not alone in that Lieutenant." She motioned to the chair beside her desk and he sat down. "What brings you to this horrid office of paper work and headaches?" She smiled at him.
His smile faded. He shifted in his chair and reached for the large box he had sat down previously. "The men and I were cleaning out the barracks. We had….. we have….the Captains personal items were still in his foot locker. I, we, " He looked up at her, pain in his eyes, at a loss for words, "we didn't know what to do with his things. He doesn't have any next of kin and throwing them out was….. well, we couldn't. I guess we could have put them in storage room somewhere… I wondered if you…." He looked down at his hands on the box. "Would you like them?" He looked at her again, apprehension and sorrow all over his face.
Peggy sat motionless. Emotions were bubbling to the surface and she fought hard to keep them down. She finally found her voice, "Yes Lieutenant, I will take them." She stood and took the box from his lap, putting it on her desk. The lid was tightly secured which she was grateful for. "Was there anything in it you would like?" She kept her voice light in spite of the hole in her chest.
"No thank you Ma'am. What I have of the captain I carry here." He put a hand to his chest over his heart. "He was the finest man I have ever met." He stood and looked at her warmly. "I hope you are doing well."
"I am quite well, thank you." Her cool reserved British side was keeping her feelings in check but then she gently touched his arm. "Thank you. Please take care of yourself."
He smiled warmly at her and took her hand in his. "Good luck Miss Carter."
He walked away with Peggy staring numbly at the box. She couldn't touch it, couldn't open it, she simply stared at it. The rest of the day the box remained untouched on her desk. At the end of the day, she slipped on her coat and gingerly took the box in her arms, she carried it home and once inside her apartment she placed it on the coffee table. She knew opening it was inevitable but for now she let it sit. She wasn't ready to face the emotions that would come with its contents.
Peggy was fixing herself some tea and a sandwich when a knock came to the door. She opened it to find Howard. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, bags under his eyes, a wealth of whiskers on his face. "Howard, you look bloody awful. Come in." She gently pushed him towards the sofa. "What is all this about?" She gestured to his unkempt state.
"I can't Peg. I can't do it. I have tried. I have searched and gone over all the coordinates multiple times. I can't find it. I have put the whole map on a grid and gone over and over it. I can't find him. I can't. I'm so sorry." He brushed his hand over his exhausted face.
Peggy sat softly beside him. "Howard. It's all right. You have done your best. No one could have put more effort and research into finding the plane. Steve is gone. I know you loved him, I loved him too, but somehow we have to move on." Even as she said the words, her voice broke. Could she? She hadn't been successful at that this far.
"He was the only good I have ever done in the world. My life has created chaos and destruction. He was my friend." Howard leaned forward putting his head in his hands.
Peggy put a hand on his arm. She knew he had searched for Steve ever since they had lost contact with him. He had never given up hope. "Howard, we need to let Steve go. For our own lives, we need to let him go. He would not want us to be miserable."
Howard lifted his head and looked at her, grief all over his exhausted face. "I don't want to let him go. I don't have many people in my life that call me friend. I am unlikeable." He smiled sadly. "He made me a better man."
Peggy put the plate with the sandwich in his hands, nodding her head towards the sandwich. He honestly looked as if he had not slept or eaten in days. "Steve brought out the best in all of us."
He closed his eyes and his shoulders drooped. He was defeated. After several minutes of silence he sat back on the sofa and took a bite of the sandwich. He looked over at Peggy loss etched in his face, "With the war over, now what?" He spoke with his mouth full.
Peggy frowned. She had heard that question so many times in the past couple of weeks. It was wonderful to have peace but so many lives had been interrupted and altered. There was an obvious inquiry of what would happen next. Where would they all go and what would they do? So much of their lives could never go back to how it had been before. The world was no longer naïve. How do you pick up the threads of an old life when that life is so transformed? Survival had been the only goal for four years. Now the time to get back to living was at hand and most felt powerless to do so.
"We pick up the pieces of our lives and we move on. We rebuild. You will go on and invent marvelous things that will change the world and I will do my damn best to insure that what Steve gave his life for is preserved." She poured tea for them while Howard ate.
"What's in the box?" Howard gestured to the box, seeing Steve's name on the label.
"Lieutenant Falsworth brought it to me today. It's the items that were in Steve's footlocker." She couldn't meet his eyes. Her heart was heavy.
"What's in it?"
"I don't know. I haven't opened it yet."
"You're not moving on either Peg." He sat his cup down and turned to face her.
"I will. We can both do this. It will take some time but we have to Howard. We have to for Steve. He would be angry with both of us if he saw how pathetic we are." She tried to smile.
They sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and grief. Peggy knew she had to move forward. She saw a path ahead of her and knew the direction she must go. The SSR had a long road ahead and she knew she could be instrumental in making that happen. Moving forward was a known fact, doing it was quite the opposite. Going forward meant leaving Steve behind. Re-building her life meant allowing someone else in. She suddenly felt much older than she was. She couldn't remember the last time she felt hopeful about something. She had to leave the past in the past.
Howard patted her knee and stood shaking her from her own thoughts. "Thanks for the sandwich and pep talk Peg." He didn't look any better but his eyes weren't quite as vacant as before.
"Get some sleep. You need it. Tomorrow is a new day, a day that Howard Stark will invent something fabulous." She smirked at him.
He opened the door and was ready to walk out when he turned back. "Peg, he's not coming back is he?" He looked crestfallen.
"No. He's not coming back." She touched her palm to his cheek. "Get some sleep."
He nodded, turned and walked down the hall.
Peggy shut the door and stood in front of the box. Maybe she would open it tomorrow.
It was 2 am and Peggy was still awake. The only sound was that of the ticking clock and the moaning of the pipes in the old building. She slipped out of bed and put on her robe. She turned on a small lamp in the living room and sat on the sofa in front of the box. She took a deep breath and lifted the lid. On top were clothes, t-shirts, uniforms, socks and a sweater. She picked up the sweater and held it close; she put it to her face and inhaled. It still had a faint scent of Steve. She closed her eyes holding it longingly. She remembered him wearing it on a rainy day. They were in a tent with several military officials. Maps lay on a large table in front of them as they planned strategy. He had plotted some coordinates and then he had looked up at her unexpectedly. He smiled at her, his eyes so blue and his smile so warm. A general was giving the usual speech of how impossible Steve's plan was but Steve simply winked at Peggy and got back to work. She knew he could pull off any plan he came up with.
She lay the sweater down and continued looking into the box. There were several sketchpads and pencils. She opened the sketchbook on top and she felt herself holding her breath. His most personal thoughts and feelings he had put on paper in forms of drawings of how he viewed the world. Many were landscapes of things he had seen, a few drawings of the men on his team. Some from his imagination and his past, the Brooklyn Bridge, a run down apartment building she assumed was his home, and a baseball field. She felt Steve all around her as she looked at the drawings. The drawings were so intimate and personal; she saw glimpses into his life. Putting one book down she picked up another. She saw the drawing he was doing when she found him that afternoon after a show had gone particularly bad for him. He was anxious to be in the war not just doing propaganda. The drawing was of a monkey on a trapeze line. It so adequately illustrated his frustration with his situation in the war. She continued to look at the drawings and stopped when she saw a drawing of herself, so perfectly executed. Had she not known better, she would have thought it was a photograph. It was obvious he had spent a great deal of time on it. Each detail was so refined.
She shut the sketchpad and allowed tears to run down her face. What would their future have held? Marriage? She likes to think so. Children? Yes, she was certain he would have wanted children. She remembered the day his unit was traveling through a village. She and Howard were accompanying them as consultants. The children in the village were war ravaged and skittish, but when Steve hopped off the truck and began talking to them, they flocked to him. Steve smiled genuinely at them, giving them his rationing of gum and candy that he had stashed in his pockets. His honest eyes and open demeanor encouraged the children to be intrigued by him. Steve was a natural with them and genuinely enjoyed himself in their presence. Closing her eyes she could picture him holding a child of theirs, smiling that wonderful smile into their little faces and then looking at her with wonder and joy. She gathered up the sketchbooks and put them down on the table. Her heart was heavy and her throat was tight with grief. She examined what was left in the box. A comb, a photo of a woman and two scrawny boys; one quite a bit bigger than the other, both dressed quite tattered. She turned the photo over and saw a date and caption: June 1929. She turned the photo over and looked at it again. Steve would have been about 12. He was very small for his age. Sickly looking but the biggest grin possible on his thin face. Bucky was smiling widely as well, his arm around Steve. Steve's mother was fragile looking and appeared very weary but had big beautiful eyes and a warm smile. She was looking at both boys with pride.
Peggy picked up a newspaper clipping. The article written on the newsprint was about her division and the work they were doing for the war. The bottom of the clipping was ripped off. She remembered the article, their division was being recognized and there had been a bit of a stir having a woman in a leadership position. The bottom portion was ripped off and she recalled that there had been a photo of her. She smiled as she remembered seeing that tiny scrap with her picture inside his compass. Underneath was a handkerchief of hers. She had wondered where it had gone. She recalled taking it out of her pocket during a briefing. She must have dropped it. Steve had obviously picked it up and kept it.
There were a few toiletry items in the bottom and a key. A small box tied with ribbon sat in the very bottom. She carefully picked it up. It was delicate and the ribbon was shiny and tied immaculately. She carefully untied it and opened the box. Inside were three chocolates and a small folded piece of paper. Happy Valentines Peggy. Her eyes again overflowed with tears. He had gotten her a Valentine gift, certainly the best he could afford in their circumstances. His plane went down a week before Valentines Day. It was easy to imagine him pulling it out of his pocket, a deep crimson covering his chiseled cheeks as he handed it to her. Would he have kissed her? Yes, she believes he would have. She let her imagination appreciate what that would have been like. She smiled through her tears. The ache in her heart was so strong that she hurt all over. God she missed him. She wanted him back. She needed him.
Peggy sat with the contents of the box surrounding her. She felt as if Steve were surrounding her. She put her face in her hands and allowed herself to weep. She didn't hold back, she didn't even try to contain it. She allowed all of the grief and pain to wash over her.
After she was spent and utterly exhausted, she carefully put each item back in the box, delicately touching and exploring each item with great detail. At last she put the lid back on the box. Her hands rested on the top. "How do I let you go?"
Her shoulders sagged in mourning. She felt loving hands on her shoulders, she knew no one was there but she felt his hands just the same. They were steady and warm, she heard his voice whisper in her mind, "I will always be with you Peggy."
She sunk down on the sofa and wrapped her arms around herself trying to feel his warmth. "I miss you darling."