Steve was in shock. Disbelief. His mind was unable to comprehend what he had heard. A radio was playing All of Me in the background. Coincidently, it was the same 1940's radio that was in his fake hospital room when he was unfrozen. It practically represented all he lost. It was like it was taunting him. Screaming at him that he had missed everything, and that everything he hoped for was no longer in his reach.
There was a crumpled picture in his hand. A picture that showed the person who mattered most to him; the person in the photograph was one who he considered one of the two people he cared about most in the world.
His door was open slightly, but he couldn't have cared less if anyone saw him. He didn't care if anyone would walk by and see his curled up body at the edge of his bed, his red eyes, or his tear-stained cheeks. He didn't care if anyone saw him, Captain America, as a nervous, broken wreck.
The funeral was that evening. Steve didn't go. He couldn't bring himself to. At least, he didn't go for the actual funeral. He didn't go when there were people there, surrounding her. He had to see her, alone, one last time. He had to say goodbye to his best girl, but he was trying to put it off for as long as possible. He glanced at his at his watch. It was 7:53pm. He shook himself out of his stupor and got up on his feet. He had to be there at 8 o'clock. He wouldn't have dared to be late, especially not for this.
He was wearing a crumpled blue top with a white star in the middle and a pair of jeans. His brown leather jacket was on top on his shirt, and he had a baseball cap covering his face. He didn't care how he looked, and he knew Peggy wouldn't have cared either. She wasn't one for appearances. She looked past them and saw the person underneath. With that, he started to run.
He ran and he ran, not stopping for anything. He made it to the funeral home at 7:59pm. Steve walked past the gates and into the large building that loomed over him. He bit his lip; he wasn't prepared for this. This made him feel like he was the weak boy that he was before the super serum. The one who had every door shut in face. The one who was never spared a second glance, until Peggy that was.
No one was in the room with the coffin, Peggy's new room, except for an old lady in a wheelchair. She was holding onto Peggy's hand, gripping it with both of her frail, elderly hands. Her head was bent over them, her white hair splayed over Peggy's lifeless hands.
Steve sat down next to her, and the lady looked up. Her eyes were slightly puffy and she gave him a watery smile. "So you finally came, huh?" she smiled, a touch of humour added to her sad tone.
"Yes," Steve replied, looking down at his hands. He glanced up, "I'm sorry, but do I know you, ma'am?"
"No, but I know all about you, Steve." The old lady said wistfully, shaking her head. "After she told me the truth, English never really shut up about you. You were everything to her." Steve just continued to look at her, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "Angie Martinelli, Peggy's friend. Best friend really."
"So you were Peggy's best girl, just as much as she was mine." Steve gave her a watery smile, and even though it felt odd, he hugged her. "Thank you, ma'am, for watching her when I couldn't."
Angie gave him a little pat on the arm. "You really are everything she said you were," Angie then smiled knowingly, and slowly wheeled out of the room, giving Steve what he needed. Quiet. It was now only him and Peggy.
"I'm sorry Peg." Steve started carefully. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there with you when the war ended. I'm sorry that we didn't explore New York together. I'm sorry I wasn't there when I should've been. I'm sorry I didn't take care of you, not that you would've needed it." He gave a slight watery chuckle, knowing that Peggy was more than capable of taking care of herself. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there to push you forward and be with you every step of the way. I'm sorry that I crashed that plane into the ice. I'm sorry that I was late for our date. I'm sorry that we never got our dance." And Steve started to cry, with his head in his hands, the palms of his hands becoming wet from his tears.
He sat in front of Peggy's coffin crying, his compass a dead weight in his pocket. His compass that he took everywhere. His compass that he never let out of his sight. His compass that let Peggy travel with him everywhere. With a quiet sniffle, he took his compass out of his pocket and opened it. She was staring back at him. Peggy. His Peggy. The one he knew before the war. Peggy, with her soft brown curls, and her ruby red lips that widened into a smile that always reached her brown eyes. There was a real reason why she was in his compass, besides the obvious. Peggy was his lifeline. She was something that tied him down, and kept him in line. Whenever his compass pointed north, it pointed to her, because it was her that always guided him home. He left it with her, lying on her closed coffin. It felt right. He was home, and she was the end of the long circle that led him to where he was now.
He stood up, looking at all of the pictures that surround her coffin. Pictures that showed Peggy with her family. Pictures that made Steve wish for what she had. Something was off though. A corner of a picture was folded. He peeled the picture out of the small frame, and he saw it. The picture revealed a tattered photograph that was hidden behind it. A photograph of Steve. Steve before the war. Steve before he was injected with the super serum. Steve before the whole mess started.
He took the picture. He took the whole frame really. He slipped it under his jacket and walked out of the funeral home, nodding goodbye to Angie on the way out. Once he was out of the building, he started to run again. It was darker than earlier, but the moon shone as brightly as ever. He remembered those nights at the training camp, when the moonlight would illuminate her face and make her look like a goddess. Even if her hair was a mess and her uniform was in tatters, she always looked beautiful to him.
He arrived at Stark Towers, and avoided contact with all of the Avengers. He went straight to his room, and quickly shut the door. Steve hastily looked on the floor for the photograph he had dropped earlier. He found it sticking out from under his bed and smiled. How fitting it was that he had a photo of Peggy, just as she had a photo of him. He took the backing out of the frame, and placed his photo of Peggy with hers of him, and all was how it should have been. He was about to return the backing of the frame back into its place, but three words caught his eye. On the back of Peggy's photo of him were three words written carefully in blue felt pen: Goodbye, my darling. And he grabbed a pen from the drawer of his dresser and wrote three words back: I was late.
And, really, it started how it ended. With Peggy and Steve. The duo that no one expected, and that no one really ever believed. The couple lost in time. The couple that lost to time. The couple that was meant to be, but never was.