Note: This one becomes AU very quickly.
It didn't seem real. The last time he'd been in this bar, Bucky had been beside him, handing him drinks and teasing him about Peggy. Now Bucky was dead, lying in a canyon miles away.
But if it wasn't real - if it was a side effect of the serum or bad dream or a horrible joke - he wouldn't be here alone, trying to get drunk even though his body wouldn't let him.
He was alone, therefore Bucky was dead.
He heard footsteps and turned, hoping for just a second that he was wrong. Of course, it wasn't Bucky picking his way through the rubble of the bombed-out bar - it was Peggy.
It wasn't the same as having Bucky back, but it was good not to be alone while he grappled with the knowledge that he'd gotten his best friend killed.
She told him it wasn't his fault – not that he believed it - and sat there as he talked. Somehow, the conversation turned to his childhood, and he found himself telling her about the fights he'd gotten into, the time he'd dared Bucky to climb the big oak tree in the schoolyard, and the first time he'd kissed a woman.
When the bottle was empty (and he was still disappointingly sober), he walked her back to the hotel they were billeted in, and they climbed the stairs to the second floor together. He looked down the hall at his door – just one past the room Bucky shared with a couple of the commandos – and took an involuntary step back. Peggy's hand went to his back to steady him, and then she reached over and took his hand. "Come with me", she said. "I don't think you should be alone tonight."
He gratefully followed her to the fourth floor, and waited while she unlocked the door to her room. She unbuckled her coat as he hovered in the doorway. "Come in", she said. "It won't do either of us any good to have you found here."
The room was small with a narrow bed, a bedside table, and thick shades on the windows. He shut the door behind him and stood there awkwardly as Peggy removed her coat and hung it in the wardrobe.
"You're not planning to sleep in that, surely?" she asked.
"I should go", he answered. "I don't want to cause trouble for you."
"It would hardly be the first time, would it? Now take off your shoes and hang your uniform up so that it doesn't wrinkle. If it makes you feel better, I promise not to take advantage of you."
She unbuttoned her uniform jacket and hung it neatly beside her coat. When her fingers went to the buttons on her blouse, he turned away hastily, not turning back until she laughed, "You can turn around now, Steve."
She perched on the edge of the bed in her soft flannel nightgown and watched without guilt as he kicked his shoes to the side and hung his uniform neatly beside hers. When he was down to his underclothes, he walked over to the bed and lay down. She lay beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. "Sleep, Steve", she said, and he closed his eyes, sure he couldn't possibly obey.
When he woke, the room was still dark, illuminated by just the slightest hint of light from around the edges of the blinds. Peggy was already awake, her face softer than he'd ever seen it, her cheeks damp.
"Peggy?" He pushed himself up on his elbow, not sure what was wrong.
"It could have been you." Her voice cracked. "Oh, Steve, I'm so sorry it was Bucky, but I just keep thinking it could have been you."
"Hey." He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. "I'm fine."
"Next time you might not be."
"Maybe not", he agreed. "But if that's what it takes to make the world a safer place, so be it."
She nodded, her eyes steady on his. "I know I'm being silly."
"Not silly", he replied. "When I think that it could be you next time, I can hardly breathe. But I can't let that stop me. I have to take down Hydra."
"I know", she answered. "It's just … we've wasted so much time." She laughed. "I'm regretting my promise not to take advantage of you, I can tell you that."
He smiled for the first time since Bucky's death. "What if I take advantage of you?"
Her face broke into that slightly mischievous smile that he loved. "That would be acceptable."
September, 1951
He woke in a sparse room, the walls an institutional green. Someone – a nurse? – started when he cleared his throat. With a panicked look at him, she rushed out of the room. By the time she returned with another woman and a bespectacled man, he had managed to sit up.
"Where am I?", he asked. The people surrounding him spoke to each other in some language he couldn't understand. The nurse he'd first seen patted his hand reassuringly and they left him alone again.
It took three long hours for them to produce someone who spoke English. By the time the young woman arrived, he had managed to eat the clear broth and bread he was offered, and found the strength to get out of bed and explore his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a small hospital in what appeared to be a tiny, isolated town.
It was three weeks before he was able to get on a boat – three weeks of talking to Agnes, learning everything he could about the years he'd missed.
He spent his first week on American soil talking to a selection of military officers, doctors, and psychologists. They were all strangers, and none of them could tell him what he wanted to know. He even sweet-talked a secretary into checking Peggy's file, but all she found was that Peggy had resigned not long after he'd disappeared. There was no forwarding address.
Colonel Anders impressed on him the importance of releasing the news of his survival in the right way and asked him to keep to the base. He wanted to leave, to go home to Brooklyn and walk the familiar streets, to search for Peggy, but he reluctantly complied.
When he could wait no longer, he tracked down Colonel Phillips, who greeted him much more fondly than he ever had before. Phillips couldn't help, either – he didn't know where Peggy had gone, or why she had left the job she loved.
It took two weeks before Howard showed up, fresh from an expedition on the Atlantic. It was good to see his familiar face, even if it was a face he'd considered punching more than once. Howard insisted on hearing about the Danish fishermen who'd found him, the doctors who'd examined him, and his trip back to the states. Steve went along with it for a while, but eventually lost patience and asked, "Howard, where's Peggy?"
Howard couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Rumor has it she quit the SSR and disappeared."
Steve refused to accept the evasive response. "No. You know where she went. Tell me."
"I don't know where she is", Howard answered, and Steve believed he was telling the truth. He knew from experience that Howard could twist the truth with the best of them, though, and Steve considered choking the information out of him. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Howard continued, "I may be able to find her, though."
A week later, Howard knocked on Steve's door and tossed a three-day-old edition of the London Times at him.
"Are you delivering newspapers, now?" he asked.
"I'm delivering this one", Howard answered. "Check the classifieds."
Steve turned to the classified section and read the ad circled in red pen. "Found: Golden retriever. Answers to Rover. Call Alice at +44 1304 614481."
He looked up at Howard. "Why are you showing me this?"
Howard grinned. "Grab your bag, Rogers. We're going on a trip."
Howard's private plane was a big step up from the military transport he'd travelled on the last time he flew to London. The city was a surprise, too, filled with glittering lights and rebuilding projects. A private car whisked them through the city and out into the countryside.
After a few hours, they arrived in a small, seaside town. The driver stopped outside a cafe and they got out, blinking slightly at the bright sunshine.
Howard led the way inside, and they purchased coffee and sandwiches and made their way to a table in the corner. Howard had been annoyingly tight-lipped about their destination, and they ate in silence. As they finished their sandwiches, Steve noticed that Howard's attention had been caught by something behind him. He heard footsteps approaching their table, and heard Howard say "Alice! It's good to see you."
"Right", replied a familiar voice. "I'm sure you didn't drag me out here because you missed me. What's going on?"
She had straight, blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun, and was wearing a cheerful summer dress, but it was clearly Peggy, looking at him as if she'd never seen him before in her life.
They left the café and walked. Peggy led the way to a secluded area of the beach, Steve and Howard following unquestioningly. When they were out of sight of the other beachgoers, Peggy's control slipped.
"Steve?" she asked, her voice breaking.
"Hey, Peg", he answered. "Sorry I'm late."
A tear rolled down her cheek. "You are very late", she said, her tear-choked voice severe. "But better late than never."
He pulled her into his arms, marveling at how well they fit together, and she let herself rest against him for a moment before pulling away and accepting the handkerchief Howard offered. "I don't understand", she said. "How are you here?"
"I'm not sure", Steve answered. "Apparently some fishermen found the plane, and they brought me to the hospital and thawed me out. It has to be the serum."
"That's an unexpected side effect", Peggy noted.
Steve laughed. "I was certainly surprised." He sobered. "Peggy, why did you disappear? Why aren't you still working at the SSR?"
Peggy cupped his cheek with her hand. "It's Alice now, actually. Alice Hunter. Peggy Carter doesn't exist."
"Why not?" Steve asked. "You changed your name, your hair, your home … Peggy, what are you hiding from?"
Peggy took his hand and led him to a sand dune. She settled on the sand and pulled him down beside her. "I don't know if you ever heard the rumours", she said, "But it seems that it was a poorly-kept secret that Peggy Carter and Captain America were close."
"I heard them", Steve replied. "I tried to stop them. Hit a guy once for saying some ungentlemanly things about you, in fact."
"I suspect that did little to squelch the rumours", she said. "And there were rumours, even after you crashed that plane. I don't think you understand how frantic the search for you was. You were the only person the serum had properly worked on, and the military desperately wanted to be able to create an entire army of super soldiers."
"Did they think you knew where I was?" Steve asked.
"No", Peggy answered. "But a few weeks after the crash, I found out I was going to have a child. If Peggy Carter gave birth, the world would have assumed that it was Steve Rogers's child, and the baby would have been become a curiosity, prodded and tested from the moment she was born. But Alice Hunter has no connection to Steve Rogers, so her child would be safe. I went to Howard and asked for his help, and he created a new identity and wrote me a letter of reference. And then I dyed my hair, moved to London, and found a new job. Six months later, I gave birth to a baby girl." She reached into her handbag and pulled out a photograph. "This is Stephanie."
Steve took the photograph and stared at the picture. The young girl faced the camera defiantly, a mischievous smile on her face and her hands on her hips. "She's beautiful", he said. "Peg, I … I don't know what to say."
"It's a lot to take in", she agreed.
"Can I meet her?" Steve asked.
Peggy worried her lower lip with her teeth. "I don't want to tell her you're her father. Not right away. She wants a father desperately, and you've just returned. There's going to be an uproar when the press learns you're alive, and I don't want her to be hurt."
"I want her to know", Steve said, "but not if it's going to put her in danger. I can wait to be her father."
"She's at the neighbour's", Peggy said. "You can meet her now, if you want."
Steve stood and held out his hand to Peggy. "Let's go."