One Year Later
Something was off with Peggy. She'd been broody, silent, and aloof, ever since Steve—well, ever since the Hydra plane went down. At work she was tired, and at home she was listless at best. She seemed disinterested in life. No matter what she or anyone else did, there was no change in her demeanour.
The Colonel had taken pity and granted her a leave of absence; or at least, he'd tried. He encouraged her to go out, try to meet new people, spend time with friends, to take her mind off... things. She respectfully turned down his advice, claiming that work was more important to her than any personal matters. They both knew better, though; the only reason why work was more important was because she forcefully made it her priority.
There weren't too many friends anyway; being in the military made it kind of hard to have a normal social life, especially for a female careerist like herself. So she came to work every day and just plugged on, like The Little Train That Could.
It was funny, actually. She was unstoppable. She had never worked this hard in her entire life, never devoted herself this fully to her career. She found herself being promoted twice in the span of a year, something unheard of for a woman in the forces. Yet it all meant nothing to her. To Peggy, it was still just a job, something that had to be done. She took no pride or pleasure in it.
Everyone knew the reason behind this dramatic change in Peggy. She was once a vibrant, sharp, strong young woman, highly respected and well liked. But now, simply put, she was lifeless. He had done this to her. He had taken away her life's light. Or, more accurately, he became her light. But then his was extinguished, and it doused hers along with it.
Steve truly was like her godly light; the glow of goodness and honour, stability and fidelity. To Peggy, his every action was saint-like. He was kind and honest and chivalrous and brave, everything a girl like her was looking for. And although she denied it vehemently to anyone who asked, she couldn't stop thinking of him. She couldn't stop mourning him.
Peggy had only known him for a few short years, yet he was as important to her as... well, she didn't exactly know what he was to her. But she absolutely hated how much she cared for him. She was a military woman, for Pete's sake; a straightforward, no-nonsense type of gal. But no matter how much she lied to everyone, she still couldn't deny her feelings for the super soldier who took her breath away.
Peggy missed him so much that it physically hurt inside. But she couldn't let the pain get in the way of doing her job. What she didn't realise was that she was instead letting it get in the way of living her life.
—
On a particularly dreary day, Peggy received a call from a few girlfriends. They were getting a group together to go out dancing, and they asked her to come along. Remembering the Colonel's suggestion, she grudgingly accepted the invitation.
That night, she spent way too much time on her hair and makeup, getting dolled up for nothing. She made sure to wear her favourite lipstick and her choice rouge to accent her dimpled cheeks, hoping to force herself to feel better. It didn't work.
Peggy was ready and waiting when the girls arrived to fetch her. Opening the door, she almost expected to see Steve standing on her porch in a smart jacket and tie, ready for that date, and her face transformed into a radiant, open smile in expectation. But upon seeing her friends there instead, her daydream was shattered, and her mouth twisted slightly into a forced grin that looked more like a grimace than anything else.
The evening was nothing like she had hoped. There was no soft lighting, slow music, or a tall, handsome blonde man to escort her. Feeling another wave of depression, she slunk off to a table in the corner of the club and sat down to watch her friends have a good time without her.
Sometime in the middle of all the merriment and dancing, her girlfriends tried to coax her out onto the dance floor, hoping to force her to have some fun too. Stubborn, she adamantly refused to even vacate her chair. Flummoxed, they regretfully left her on her own and returned to their dancing partners.
After sitting for what felt like hours upon end of utter disinterest and boredom, a tall, beefy, rather unattractive guy sauntered over from the other side of dance floor. He leaned down next to her, stuck his face by her ear and arrogantly drawled, "Hey there doll face, let's say you and I blow this joint and grab some grub, huh?" She gave him a disdainful look that clearly told him to beat it, but clueless as he was, he missed the signal.
Still waiting for a response, the man prompted her again. "Come on, sweetheart, we can go have a good time somewhere else, if ya know what I mean..."
That was the last straw. She was sick of all the childish, rude, inconsiderate jerks that made up the entire male population. What happened to chivalry? she thought sarcastically. Did it die along with Steve? Without a word, she stood up, swung her arm back and popped him a good one, right in the kisser. She didn't wait for the man to say anything in response, she simply grabbed her things and stormed out of the club, her friends gawking at her retreating figure with horrified looks on their faces.
Needless to say, they didn't take her out dancing again.
