She doesn't even know if they're still in Greenland; in spite of the fact that it's July, there's nothing but ice as far as the eye can see.
Howard pilots the jet smoothly up the coast, and if nothing else, it's a spectacular view. Vast and desolate and sparkling white. He's asked her at least a dozen times if she's noticing anything, seeing anything, getting any readings. She's responded as many times that she's not a thermometer.
He means well, and luckily he knows her well enough to understand she's not trying to snipe at him, but Peggy simply doesn't know how to tell him that she's scared.
"There." Howard points to a shadow just coming up over the horizon. "There she is."
Her fists tighten in her lap as she leans over the console. It's unmistakable. She remembers the sweep of the wings, the sleek design. Now it's half-buried in the glacier, massive and still.
She remembers chasing it, wind whipping through her hair as the colonel gunned the engine. Adrenaline coursing through her veins.
The one kiss, frenzied and brief and all they ever had.
Not for the first time, she wonders why she agreed to come.
Howard lands the jet near the base camp, a familiar-looking cluster of olive tents perched not far from the wreck. Surprising. Howard's usually far fancier than army surplus.
She climbs down from the passenger seat to find a familiar face there to welcome her. "Mr. Jarvis. I wasn't expecting you."
"I remain your personal pleasant surprise, Miss Carter," he assures her, though it's slightly muffled from within the depths of his heavy hooded coat. "I trust you're well?"
"Well enough." The icy wind is seeping through all her heavy woolen and down layers, and even just from a few moments, her teeth are chattering. "Perhaps we could move into the tent."
Inside, Jarvis quickly manages to produce hot tea for both of them. Peggy sips hers gratefully, feeling tendrils of warmth creep back into her fingers and toes.
It still doesn't seem possible that she's really here.
There's a sense of brittleness in her bones, like at any moment she'll crack into a thousand pieces. Her head is starting to throb, a dull ache that might be due to any number of factors, not least of which is the possibility that she's only yards away from the source of all of this.
So she takes refuge in being British. "I do hope you're earning hazard pay here, Mr. Jarvis."
"Mr. Stark compensates me quite adequately for my efforts, Miss Carter. Although I'm touched by your concern on my behalf."
After she's had a chance to warm up a bit, Howard takes her to the crash site.
She clambers up the ice, waving off his offers of help, until she's looking down at the plane. There's a small crew of workers picking away at the ice over the cockpit and fuselage. The wings are still half buried, the rear jutting out into the icy air.
"See how intact it is?" Howard points at the wreck. "I was surprised to see how well it held together. Not too much in the way of rubble."
She nods mutely, staring at what she knows is Steve's grave. It's awash in silence, like any proper cemetery, and she thinks maybe it's just that it's too cold for her to cry.
Howard, ever the scientist, has brought his testing equipment, and back in the tent, she lets him take blood samples, take her pulse, and generally poke and prod until she's sure she'll get bruises all over both arms.
"Are you noticing any symptoms? Anything at all out of the ordinary?"
She shakes her head wearily. "Nothing happens when I'm awake."
He nods. "Good thing there are sleeping quarters here."
He settles her in what he calls 'crew quarters,' which is just a tent lined with bunks. There are a few other beds occupied, with exhausted-looking crewmen wrapped up in heavy thermal covers. He thoughtfully sets her up in a bed directly adjacent to one of the heaters.
"Anything else you need?"
Peggy shakes her head, pulling her own covers around her. "I'm not sure I can sleep. I can't just drop off on demand."
"Just try to relax. We'll come get you if anything happens."
She wakes up gasping, every muscle tense, her throat closed. No air. She can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't -
"Peggy! Peggy, come on, snap out of it."
Her eyes open and she finds Howard leaning over her, holding an oxygen mask to her face. He looks terrified.
Oh.
She forces herself to slow down and take a breath. Her heart is racing.
"That's good. Nice and slow. Just focus on breathing."
After several lungfuls, she's steady enough to push the mask away. "Did something happen?"
Howard shrugs. "You tell me. You seemed fine for an hour or so, but twenty minutes ago, you started thrashing. You woke up the others. Another dream?"
"Ice." Endless. Crushing. Worse than anything so far. "I was trapped. I couldn't breathe."
He takes her wrist. "Your pulse is still pretty hectic. Are you feeling better?"
"I'll be all right."
"Excuse me? Mr. Stark?"
Jarvis leans in, looking, as usual, slightly apologetic. "Mr. Stark. Miss Carter. I'm terribly sorry for the interruption. But we've found something that - well, we can't explain."
"So what else is new?" Howard mutters.
"Sir, we've found Captain America. He's alive."
She goes completely numb.
She insists on seeing him immediately.
"Peggy, I don't know if that's a good id-"
"Howard." He seems to realize she's not backing down. "This is why we're here."
Once the lead scientist comes out and says it's all right, they file quietly into the room behind him. It feels like a wake, and Peggy would laugh at that except her lungs are feeling tight again, like all the ice is still crushing her.
It's Steve. Captain Rogers. Captain America. The boy from Brooklyn, still waiting for the right dance partner.
He's lying on the table in front of them, machines around him beeping and whirring. He looks grotesque, like some carnival sideshow pretend human, and her stomach turns. His skin is tinged with blue.
But he's breathing.
It's slow, and barely visible, but she can see it. The scientists buzzing around him have an air of bewilderment, and Peggy doesn't blame them. What does one do for a man who shouldn't be alive, but is?
Someone is talking, she thinks, but she can't make it out. Her throat is aching. Her chest is tight.
Howard touches her arm. "Peggy?"
She swallows, trying to respond, but her voice won't work.
"Guys. Guys. Let's just give her a minute."
Howard and the scientists vanish, leaving her looking down at Steve, and finally, finally, she feels warm tears coating her cheeks.
"You missed our date."
She touches his cheek gently. His skin is freezing. She traces the strong line of his jaw, brushes her fingers over his mussed hair.
"Steve." She leans over to whisper in his ear. "If you can hear me, darling - come back."
She kisses his cold cheek and holds his icy hands in hers, tears quietly streaming down her face.
When he comes back in to join her, Howard brings up a question she hadn't thought of yet.
"So - do we tell everyone about him? Who do we tell?"
"The SSR will have to be notified," Jarvis points out helpfully. "Although might I suggest, Mr. Stark, that you wait until you're satisfied with the captain's condition before handing him over? I believe he'll get better care privately, under your watch, than out in public, where the media will undoubtedly pounce and complicate matters."
"Right. Of course." Peggy can see Howard thinking about details. "We need to make sure he's stable enough to take back to New York. My lab has equipment. And it's isolated enough to give us room to work without the government hovering."
She finally finds her voice.
"Is he going to wake up?"
The room goes silent.
The scientists stare at each other, until finally, one of them turns to her. "We can't say with complete certainty. But - we think so."
Howard touches her arm. "I'm sorry, Peg. I didn't mean to sound insensitive."
She gives him a small smile. "You're a scientist, Howard. I know this is how you work. You look for answers."
"Sometimes I forget to think about everyone else." He looks down at Steve. "I promise you, Peggy, I'll do everything I can."
"I know you will."
She refuses to leave Steve's side, waiting patiently as scientists bustle in and out, taking measurements and checking his vital signs.
Howard spends most of the day with her, alternating between manic and focused. She understands. She's not sure how to feel, herself.
Eventually, he turns to her. "I assume we should notify his family."
"He doesn't have any," she says quietly. "Bucky Barnes was the closest thing he had to family."
"The rest of the Commandos, then?"
She nods. "I'll tell them when I get back to New York."
When Peggy walks into Thompson's office and tells him Captain America has been found alive, Jack stares at her like she's lost her mind.
He calls the president immediately, and it's the strangest conversation Peggy's ever witnessed, since she's only seeing one side. Jack looks as bewildered as she feels. His side of the phone call is largely composed of variations on I don't know and I'm not sure.
After that's over, he sits blankly in his chair, staring at his desk. "So - he's been alive, this whole time?"
"Apparently."
"And now Howard Stark has him?"
"We agreed it best we keep him under lock and key at the lab, at least until he - um - until something changes." She can't keep saying when he wakes up because she can't bring herself to face the reality that he might never wake up.
Jack nods, distracted. "The president agrees. Says it's best to hold off on any formal announcements for the time being. Given the events with Leviathan, and losing Chief Dooley, he wants to give us a chance to settle without media attention."
She sleeps dreamlessly that night. She hasn't had any problems sleeping since they found him.
The next morning, on her way to her own desk, she stops at Sousa's. He looks shell-shocked. "I assume you've heard?"
He nods. "You saw him?"
"I did." She hands him his dogtags. "I'm rather glad I have to give these back to you."
"So am I." He tucks them back into his pocket. "How's he doing?"
"It's early to tell."
Sousa's looking at her with a look on his face she can't quite decipher. He's a complex man; he's proven, time and again, that he notices more than most of his colleagues. Sometimes she wonders just how much he knows.
"You love him, don't you?"
The question catches her off guard.
It's so much easier to answer than she'd realized.
"Yes."
Sousa smiles, but there's a sadness to it that she doesn't understand.
"I hope he pulls through."
Her phone rings that afternoon. "This is Agent Carter."
"Carter. It's Chester Phillips."
"Colonel." She instinctively sits up straighter, though he can't see her. She hasn't seen him since the war ended. "Sir. It's good to hear from you."
"I hear you found Rogers."
"Yes, sir. Howard Stark deserves the credit."
"He claims you're the reason he started looking."
"He's exaggerating, sir."
He harrumphs. "Somehow I doubt that. Well. Keep me appraised, Carter."
"I will."
"I trust you'll both agree to name your first son Chester."
Her eyes go wide. "Sir -"
But there's a click as he hangs up and she's left staring at her phone.
She's halfway through a set of fragmented reports from the Russian front, the conference table covered in semi-legible notes, when the door opens.
"Message for you, Carter."
Sousa hands her a paper with two brief lines scrawled on it.
He's awake.
You're the first one he asked for.
The sight of Steve Rogers awake, still pale but lying there with his eyes open, takes the breath out of her body.
He sees her, and everything else just stops.
"Steve."
"Peggy?" he breathes, and his voice is rough and weak but it's him and she still can't quite fathom it. "How -?"
"I don't know." And she doesn't care. "I just know that you're here."
"Peggy." His voice is thick, and she can see his eyes welling up with tears. "Thought - thought I'd never -"
In spite of the crowd of scientists, Howard, Jarvis, and whoever else is here, she leans in and kisses Steve soundly.
His mouth is softer than she expected, warm and pliant under hers. It's brief, cursory, but it's Steve and it's all she could want.
When she lets go, she finds him smiling, a little dazed. "I wasn't expecting that."
She bites her lip. "How do you feel?"
"After that? Amazing."
He asks about the SSR, about her work now, about the 107th, and she finds herself talking for what seems like an eternity. It takes a while for her to realize she's been going on, non-stop, barely letting him get in a word edgewise.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to prattle on."
"No, it's all right." He shrugs, smiling shyly. "It's just - it's good to hear your voice again."
She asks Howard if he's found anything, any clue, some scientific explanation for the dreams that led them to Greenland.
"Nothing." He shakes his head. "I can't explain it. I can only guess it's some kind of higher-level brain function, something I can't measure."
"What about the rest?"
He gives her a look she's never seen from Howard Stark before. Something she can only describe as...humility, perhaps?
"I don't know, Peggy. We may never know." He smiles ruefully. "Sure am glad Jarvis gave you that vial, though."
As it turns out, Captain America's even more in demand now than he was before he was declared dead.
Peggy finds herself politely removed from the room when the president shows up, then the Secretary of War - though she's given to understand he's now called the Secretary of the Army? - and a phalanx of military officials, each one with higher clearance than the last, come to smile and nod and shake the hand of the captain who, by rights, shouldn't be alive.
As it turns out, it's three days before she and Steve finally get a real chance to be alone together. He's still in a bed in the lab, though he's rapidly getting stronger, and she pulls up a chair beside him.
"You're quite the golden boy," she comments drily, crossing her legs, smoothing her skirt. "It's an honor to be received by Your Grace."
He blushes at that, looking as sheepish as it's possible for a tall, muscular Adonis to look. "I'm sorry. I didn't think they'd -"
"Steve. I'm teasing."
"Right."
She looks at him curiously. He's been trapped in ice, his body shut down into hibernation, for years. Now he's been woken up and hastily dragged through five years of world-changing events. It's been a lot for her to take in, and she's had five years to do it.
What's it like for him?
"What do you remember?"
"I remember your voice," he says quietly. "That's the last thing I remember. Then...nothing. Until I opened my eyes and I was here."
"You remember the crash?" Pain flickers across his face, and she immediately regrets the question. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't -"
"No, it's all right." He looks down at the bedsheet, and she can see the tension rising in his face. She reaches for his hand instinctively, curling her fingers around his. "I remember it. Ice. Just - ice, everywhere. It was coming towards me. For some reason, I thought - if I just kept talking to you -" he smiles wryly - "somehow it wouldn't be so bad."
He covers her hand with his, brushing his thumb over her skin gently. Her skin buzzes like a live wire, warmth flooding her veins. She's cried herself out over him, but her throat still feels tight.
"I kept your photo in my compass."
"I know." She squeezes his hand. "Colonel Phillips was sitting next to me when we saw it on a film reel. He gave me quite the earful."
Steve grins tiredly. "Sorry."
"It's all right," she tells him. "I found I didn't mind people thinking of me as your 'best girl.'"
His face brightens at that, and it's the Steve she remembers - boyish, sweet, and so devoid of ego that he can't possibly be real, but somehow he is. "Really?"
"Really." They're still alone, so she leans in to kiss his cheek. Because she can now. Because that's something they do, and she still can't quite believe it.
"I was - I wanted to ask." He fixes her with his most earnest expression. "Would you like to go steady?"
He's quite possibly the most adorable man on the face of the earth.
"I'll consider it." She watches his face light up, and has to stop herself from kissing him over and over and over. "You do still owe me a dance, soldier."
"As long as you teach me," he says quietly. "I'm sorry I missed it the first time."
There's no reason not to kiss him now, so she does, leaning over, her hand pressed softly to his cheek. He kisses her back gently, his fingers tangling in her hair, and it fills her with light, every regret and memory all swirling into one moment, and he's here and he's not going anywhere.
She can't explain anything.
And she doesn't have to.
"It's all right, Steve." She steals one more soft kiss. "We have all the time in the world."
