Hello everyone! This fanfiction takes place two months after Steve falls below the ice, and will focus on Peggy and the Howling commandos dealing with Steve's "death" as they take down a Hydra base. This fic is slightly AUish, as Peggy and Steve were married for a month before Steve "died." This story may start out a little slow, but I am building up to something big, I promise :)
Please Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I am simply playing around with them and I promise to return them relatively (or not) unscathed. All character rights to Marvel.
Chapter 1
"Pegs. Pegs, wake up. We gotta go to work."
Peggy groaned, snuggling farther into Steve, willing him to stay.
"Pegs!" a hand shook her shoulder gently, and Peggy felt a pang of sadness as reality washed her dream away. She opened her eyes to see not Steve, but Dugan.
"I was having a nice dream," she told him, words slurring a little from sleep.
"So were the rest of us, but we gotta leave in 20 minutes." Dugan stood offering her a hand up. She took it, and immediately sat back down as a wave of nausea washed over her. The Howling Commandos were camped high in the mountains, and the thin air had taken its toll on all of them, especially Peggy.
The nausea passed, and Peggy began to get ready; she prepared her rifle and ammunition, all whilst trying not to think of her dream. Steve had passed two months ago, and the pain of her husband's death was still sharp. The whole group had felt the sting of his absence on their missions, but their fierce loyalty to the Captain and his goal of taking down Hydra had driven them to work harder and more efficiently. Now, there was only one Hydra base left and, God willing, that one would be gone by morning.
Peggy was surprised to see a dense layer of fog around the camp as she stepped out of her tent. She could see maybe 5 meters away, but beyond that was pea soup.
Finding her way to the meeting tent, she opened the flap and entered. General Hamlin was already inside, waiting for Peggy to join him. The general and the agent had been assigned to combine their forces on this mission, since the base was too large for the Howling Commandos to take it alone.
General Hamlin was a tall, broad-shouldered man who spoke quite brashly. He was notorious for defying orders, especially those of the SSR. Specifically those of Agent Carter. His lack of compliance had caused injury to several SSR agents, making him quite unpopular with the agency. However, he had been the only one available to provide troops for this night.
Hamlin Turned to face Peggy. "Well Carter, I hope your Howling Hooligans are all lined up and ready to go. I don't want them slowing my troops down this evening." He gave her a stern look.
Peggy tightened her fist as frustration rose in her chest, "You do realize that these 'Hooligans,' as you call them, were trusted and depended on by Captain America, correct?" Peggy raised a defiant eyebrow.
"And look where that got him," Hamlin smirked, "lost in an icy grave."
Peggy was beyond frustrated now. No, she had skipped mad and angry and had gone straight to livid. "How. Dare. You." her voice was dangerously low and laced with venom. "Captain Steve Rogers sacrificed his life bravely to save hundreds of lives. His death had nothing to do with the competence of this team nor his own. I will not allow you to disrespect my soldiers or Steve's memory in such a way. Am. I. Clear."
Hamlin smirked, "Whatever you say." He stepped out of the tent and began to organize his troops while Peggy regained control of her emotions. Angry tears came to her eyes, which she wiped away quickly. She refused to let Hamlin get to her.
Outside the tent, Peggy found the Commandos huddled in a group, discussing the plan. They were to attack the North side of the Hydra base, while Hamlin's troops would cover the South. The Northern side was farthest away, so the Commandos would leave a few minutes before Hamlin.
"Are we ready?" Peggy asked, joining the huddle.
"Mostly. Do you think this fog is going to be an issue? It's hard to fight an enemy we cannot see." Falsworth said.
"Then I guess we should pray the fog clears up by the time we attack." Peggy gave them all a terse smile.
The group headed out into the night, finding their way by compass. The fog seemed to continue to grow thicker; Peggy could only see about 3 meters away now.
"Isn't it kinda unusual that there is fog in such cold weather? Especially this thick?"
Peggy wasn't sure who said it, and no one responded. It was unusual, Peggy thought, but there was nothing they could do about it except keep walking and wishing for clearer skies.
After 20 minutes of walking, Peggy realized that her hand was physically stuck to the cold metal of her gun. A combination of the moisture in the air and the cold had frozen her glove to the barrel. She slid her hand out of the glove, and peeled it gently off.
Peggy looked up, and realized that she couldn't see anyone. A small flicker of panic rose in her chest.
"Dugan?" She called out. Hearing no response, she tried a bit louder, "Gabe?!"
Three more times, she called out, and received no response. She let out a string of choice expletives, and tried her radio. It was frozen to the point of being unusable. Peggy cursed a few more times, and tried walking northward, hoping she could catch up.
Suddenly, she thought she heard a noise behind her. Peggy whirled around, gun and flashlight raised. "Hello?" she called out.
There was silence for a few seconds, and then a whooshing sound. Peggy started, and then felt a sharp pain in her arm. She looked down to see a dart stuck in her bicep.
Then everything went black.