Imagine if Peggy was still alive after Steve woke up. She'd probably be ninety some and sickly. Imagine if Steve went and visited her. He'd go late at night so that no one would notice him, he'd walk into her ward room only to see Peggy laying in bed, awake but not alert. "Peggy?" he'd ask just to be polite. She would smile and nod. "How have you been?" Steve would ask. She would respond with a short fine and just continue to lounge in her bed. "Has anyone visited recently?" Steve would ask, really wanting to know of she met someone else.
"Who would? John is dead and the kids are busy," she'd chuckle.
"How many kids do you have?" Steve would divulge.
"Two,"
"One boy and one girl,"
"Exactly," she'd smile.
"Did they grow up well?" Steve would force out
"I think so, but things don't always turn out as planned," She would laugh, "Who are you?" she'd ask politely.
"It's me, Steve" she'd look confused, not saying a word, "Captain America?" he'd ask, a desperate attempt to contact his Peggy. Finally she'd smile, reminiscent of the her younger self. Her face would glow, a new vibrancy brought back to her pale cheeks.
"I remember him, his name was Steve Rogers, just like you youngster" she'd whisper still not completely in her head but finally grinning like she used to. She'd launch into the story of the small kid from Brooklyn who saved the world. Steve would listen intently by her bedside, soaking in each word though he knew the story just as well as she did. "The Captain is a good man, youngster, he saved us all, and you know what? He owes me a dance, " She'd stop there, laugh and stare back off into space, falling asleep at the worst possible moment as old people sometimes do. Steve would no longer be able to contain himself, he'd kneel by her side and hold her hand, kissing the back of it softly. He'd say nothing, his eyes saying it all, bittersweet relief. He'd stay like that for a few minutes, praying that Peggy's life had been amazing. Steve would then let go, knowing there was nothing he could do. He'd kiss her on the forehead and walk to the door. One hand on the door, he'd take one last look at the woman he loved. He'd whisper a soft goodbye and go.
Captain America was a good man.