- Present day, 2015 -
As the door to his lonely apartment unlocked, a very tall and slender, muscular-built man stepped inside and closed it behind him.
He slipped the key into his jean pocket, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, deciding to shower and go to bed.
Suddenly he heard a creaking, like someone's weight settling on the floorboards.
Someone's in here, he thought. Strange. Even stranger because no one else had a key, and the door had been locked when he came home. So someone either stole the spare key, or snuck in.
Steve looked to the right. He'd left the bathroom window open, and a cool, night breeze was blowing in softly.
Of course.
Whoever was here, they were definitely around the corner. Probably sitting in the living area, waiting to attack him. He hadn't the slightest idea as to who it could be, and why they would be after him.
Bucky was gone. Long gone. They hadn't been able to locate him for quite some time, and with his team, though they were experienced in this sort of endeavor, they hadn't had any luck.
Now, they were on some sort of relief.
He picked up his shield, which was set against the wall conveniently, and slung it on his arm.
Just in case.
He slowly started to creep toward the living area. He inched closer, just close enough so that he could see whoever was awaiting him without making himself known.
He took one step further, and the floorboards groaned under his weight.
Dammit, he thought.
It was best to turn the corner and show his face now. He flipped the light switch behind him. A warm glow filled the space.
Steve gulped, and prepared for the worse.
What he didn't expect to see, as he rounded the corner, was the crying ball of woman sitting on his couch.
She looked up immediately, and Steve froze. He felt like he'd taken a step back into his past. One of the only good parts about being Captain America. His hands began to shake, and he had to steady himself with the wall.
It was like a dream he'd woken up screaming to a thousand times.
The woman stared at him with a sad and gentle smile, like she'd been waiting for him. Then her expression changed, and she began to cry even harder, burying her head into her lap.
Steve could barely believe his eyes. The woman sitting here looked the same as the last time their lips had met in their last kiss. A spur of the moment thing. Sometimes he woke up feeling the sweet spark from her lips.
It took all the strength he possessed in that moment to move his mouth.
"Peggy..?" he spoke, warily.
Her head rose, and she stared at him with tears in her eyes. She looked as weak as he felt.
"I can explain, Steve," she desperately cried, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Please let me explain."
He said nothing. Yet he had so many things to say. So many questions to ask.
I thought you were dead. I buried you. We were at your funeral. I'd felt guilty because I never got a proper goodbye. And now you're here; alive, well, and healthy.
How did you get here? What happened? What's going on?
He let it sit a moment, deciding to listen to her because he couldn't stand when she was upset, no matter the reason, so he slowly nodded as if to say 'go ahead'.
"I was cryogenically frozen in 1947," she began. "And defrosted in 2011 by S.H.I.E.L.D."
Frozen? That would explain her appearance.
"They told me, that they'd found you. So we began to develop plans for your return."
She looked at him then, a very sad look, and he felt like he needed to hold her. But he didn't, because he was still unsure of her.
"And, I just want to apologize. For not reaching out to you as soon as I knew."
He decided to trust her.