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Waking Up to See Your Face
Three times when Daniel woke up and found Peggy beside him, and one time when she woke up and found him.
Chapter 1: Midnight Oil
If the universe had consulted him, Daniel Sousa would have suggested that waking up to the sight of Peggy Carter's face should not go hand in hand with pain.
Of course, if the universe cared for Daniel's opinion, it had only given the most tantalizing glimpses of that concern. Case in point, he had returned from the war. It was true that he was missing a leg. He had come to the conclusion that the loss of his leg was preferable to the loss of his life. Since he had no wish to die, he was grateful. And since he was stubborn, he faced the challenges of his changed life with characteristic doggedness.
Daniel Sousa knew that the universe could be generous but that the most lavish gifts often had a sting to them.
Pain forced him to consciousness as he coughed, gasped, and wheezed through the waning effects of the Stark's cursed gas. The tender spot on his head – a gift from one of New York's Finest – was a paltry irritation by comparison.
Daniel had felt worse, it was true, but this was no day in the park.
Despite waking up with a throat that felt as though someone had attacked it with sandpaper, a whisper of a headache from the concussion he had sustained, and an ocean of confusion as to what had led to his state, it was a relief to see Peggy standing in the room. Was he imagining the concern in her face as she came to sit beside him?
When Carter told him that he had attacked Thompson, memories flooded his mind: a spray of gas in his face followed first by god-awful pain and then an upsurge of anger that was more than anything he'd ever experienced. It was hatred so concentrated that all rational thought was incinerated. The only relief his disordered mind could comprehend was to kill.
He was grateful that he hadn't had much of a chance to act on the blood-lust. Thompson was an asshole, but he was a solid – if not quite brilliant – agent. Sousa dreaded the ribbing that this episode would surely provoke. That embarrassment was nothing to his private horror that he had struck Peggy as well. The knowledge that she could more than handle herself gave him no comfort.
Yet, comfort was there, seated right next to him. He could have woken alone or with an unfamiliar doctor poking and prodding him. He could have opened his eyes to find that he was being watched over by Andrews, by Carroll, or – heaven forbid – by Thompson.
If the universe had asked him who he wanted at his bedside following this debacle, he never would have had the audacity to choose Peggy. Yet, here she was: a warm and serene balm to his soul. He struggled with the pleasure-pain of it – grateful that she was there and hating himself for treasuring her attention as he did.
Damn, but the universe had some sick sense of humor.