Chapter 26
Blood. There was maroon seeping from the peak of Steve's compromised shoulder. The world unfurled into a blur. Feeling his heart pound with irregular beats, Sam raced towards the fallen solider. His emotions were running fierce in his veins as he skidded to his knees where Steve had dropped on the ground. He dared a glance at the little girl still secured under Steve's broad arm, and his brown eyes enlarged.
"Steve...Steve. Can you hear me? Oh man, I'm going to get you out of here, Cap." He clutched his fist over the sodden dark blue material of the uniform, holding onto Steve in those mere seconds all his reserves of strength became absent in his system.
Steve's world seemed to have lost all focus and dimension, and he almost forgot where he was and what was happening. He hardly registered pain for the first few seconds; just shock and something being off with his body. But his instincts kept the little girl tucked safely in his arms, and as his mind flickered back to awareness, he began to register the situation. The blood. The pain. The danger.
"Get out of here, Sam," he said in a gasp, trying to push himself off the concrete, but unable to fight through the fogginess that was settling on his limbs. "Take her," he coughed, tasting the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. "You have to...keep her safe..." Black specks began invading his vision, but he shook them away and again attempted to stand. "Go," he ground out, grabbing Sam's hand tightly in his own and pushing the child towards his friend's arms.
Sam veered his gaze at the rooftop. He scanned over the darkness as he caught a gleam of silver. Grimacing, he clenched his jaw against the harsh gust of cold, feeling his heart sank for momentarily lapse of distress. He summoned enough strength and fixed his stare at Steve's watering blue eyes. "I can carry you out, Steve, but you need to become the dog again..." He urged, with a calm breath. He discarded the helmet quickly off Steve's pallid and slackened face. "It's the only I can get you and her out of there."
The words sounded slurred to Steve's ears, but he was able to understand what Sam said and know that he ought to follow through. A tiny thought appeared in his mind about what on earth the child would do when she saw him become an animal, but he knew that there was no time to be worried about that. Closing his eyes so that he could concentrate, he put all of his mental energy into tearing down his barriers against the curse.
It turned out to be fairly easy to let the transformation take over his mind; it had been waiting for an opportunity to spring for some time. The pain in Steve's shoulder multiplied many times over as his muscles and bones tore themselves apart and then realigned themselves into a canine form. A groan of agony escaped his swollen lips, and he clenched his growing teeth, recessing against the onslaught of pain. He slammed his eyes shut, feeling the darkness of the curse merge into his decreasing bone structure. Golden-cream fur poked from his clammy skin and coated his muscles with thickening layers of a pelt. His fingers had glued together and contorted into paws. The chiseled definition of his broad jaw extended into a long muzzle. The visages of changes increased, until finally his body had become that of a dog.
Opening his blearily eyes again, Steve regained enough clarity and saw Sam hovering over him.
"Steve," Sam said, breathlessly, looking down at the golden husky. His hand caressed over the animal's wounded shoulder, palm rested on the marred flesh. He pressed his gently, preventing the torrents of blood from expelling from the punctured limb. He can't fathom the transformed soldier's emotions; but Sam knew that Steve had to hold it together, even if his soul was fraying underneath the vessel of fur.
When he traced his shaky fingers over the 9 mm slug embedded into Steve's muscle, the dog yelped a little in pain. "It's okay," Sam reassured calmly. "The bullet's in pretty deep...It can't be extracted without proper medical tools. We need to call-"
"Not important right now," Steve interrupted, speaking through heaving breaths. "It's fine. Just get her out of here. He nudged Sam's hand with his muzzle. "Hurry."
The pain now clouded Steve's vision so that nothing was clear, though shapes were still visible. He saw Sam's face, but could not make out its expression. Despite his friend's composed tone, Steve was afraid of what would happen if they stayed any longer in the view of the sniper. Surely the danger of this moment was still very high. Knowing that Sam might need some help, Steve revolted against everything his body wanted, shifting into a lying position. From there, his shaky legs raised him a few inches off the concrete, just long enough for Sam to get a hold of him.
Feeling knot of languish rise in his chest, Sam carefully slid his hands underneath the dog's weight. Steve whimpered at the sudden burst of amplified pain shooting from his injured limb. His paw flipped up and touched Sam's forearm. The little girl looped her scrawny arms around his neck, latching herself against his shoulders. Steve's canine body sagged against his chest as he rested his tensed muzzle onto the torn sleeve of Sam's jacket.
"Hang on, Steve," Sam implored with monotonous voice, his eyes downcast and met the dimming ice blue eyes of his accursed friend. The stealth uniform was raveled over the trembling limbs and the helmet was at his boots. He carried the degraded form of America's ultimate soldier in the nest of his arms. Clutching Steve close, he ambled swiftly out of the alley, disappearing in the murkiness of street, pacing down a sidewalk and moving towards the parked truck in front of him. "I've got you." he promised.
The wound's throbbing nearly caused Steve to lose consciousness, but he blinked repeatedly and tried to concentrate on breathing. He could feel his own rapid and laboring heartbeat thumbing loudly in his ears, and he wondered how much blood it was pumping out of his shoulder. The unnatural weariness on Steve's body and mind told him that he'd already lost a lot of his blood, and he needed something to stanch the bullet hole soon. But the car was very close; hopefully help was close, too.
"We're almost there, Steve," Sam panted out a heavy breath, dashing closer to the back parking lot. His dark eyes focused on his metallic blue truck ahead. "Just a few more-"
"Wait," Steve gasped, suddenly detecting that something was wrong. At first, he couldn't understand why he was hesitant, but then he remembered that his instincts, though bogged down by his injuries, were still much more keen in his canine form. For reasons he couldn't articulate, he simply knew that Sam should not approach the vehicle.
"Something's off," he said gruffly, coughing to clear his throat. "Something's not right."
Sam halted in his steps. He narrowed his eyes narrowed at the transformed super-soldier. The dog seemed perplexed. His ears perked up, apparently, the serum granted him enhanced hearing, Steve detected a threatening frequency outside the normal range.
"Okay," Sam drew out a frustrated breath; his eyes locked onto the truck in front of him. It was a judgement call. "The way I see it, we have to options: we can move a few inches closer to the truck or use one of these buildings as a safe house. Either way, we're struck in the danger zone, Steve."
Steve considered what Sam told him, even though thinking concisely seemed to have suddenly become a daunting task. He decided in the end to go with his gut, and his instincts were telling him to avoid the car at all costs.
"Let's use the buildings," he rasped, seething through his incisors. His muzzle crinkled into a weak grimace, and his ice blue eyes zoned in and on the vacant pickup. "The truck's not safe, Sam." he warned, gravelly. A painful stillness in his limb run though his smaller body.
One moment the air was dense. The next, a lapse of fear overtook him. Sam didn't even have to time for opting onto the Captain's words, rather than his own thoughts; before the whole parking lot became engulf from by a deafening rumble of imminent detonation. He squinted as his vision blurred, against the intense firestorm. He was on a brink of having a panic attack, blood pulsing at a rapid pace; he could feel the aftershocks of the explosion vibrating in the soles of his boots.
The frantic tempo of his heart ceased for a mere second, as his brown eyes enlarged with full blown horror, in reaction to the chaotic funnels of flames and smoke, Sam involuntarily jerked a step back. His one hand supported underneath Steve's furred belly, while the other reflexively caressed over the leaden child's arm.
She was in utter shock and trembling against the planes of his back as all of them watched the door being torn off their hinges and thrown against the cement wall; the hood skyrocketed and flipped into the air. And then, a massive cloud of inferno devoured everything into cyclone of smoldering heat. The vehicle had literally melted away as roaring flames consumed every piece of the charred frame.
Sucking in a deep breath, he sagged a little, noncommittally, "So I guess we're walking from here..."
Steve felt his strength sap out of his bones like water being squeezed from a sponge. His ears rung from the volume of the explosion, and his eyes had the image of fire burned black onto their retinas. His wound throbbed and spread hot pain throughout his entire torso. The curse tried to take advantage of his weakness and pushed itself forward in his mind, making it nearly impossible to think. As Sam turned to find an alternate route of escape, Steve felt his resolve stumble, like a weary traveler. Finally, he could fight the pain no more, and he let himself fall into the darkness of unconsciousness.
"Steve..."
The air felt thick and heavy as Steve's eyes flickered open. He had expected to find himself with Sam and the little girl, but despite pain burning all over his body, his shoulder was not wounded as it had been when he passed out. He found himself lying flat on a dirty concrete sidewalk, feeling like he had just gone through a meat grinder yet without any visible injuries.
Groaning as he tried to stand up, Steve noticed that he was no longer in his canine form. His mind was fuzzy and even depth perception and objects seemed distorted around him. When at last his limbs pushed him off the ground and he stood to his feet, he got a real glimpse of what was around him, and it gave him no comfort.
He must be in New York; he could see the waters of the Upper Bay from between two buildings on his left. Walking closer to the window of sight, Steve realized that the whole city was silent. There were no people on the roads and no cars driving by. But the silence was not one of peace, but rather of fear, as prey is quiet before its watchful predator. Steve felt like he was being watched, but since he saw no one, he had few options except to continue forward.
When he passed between the buildings and possessed an unobstructed view of the Upper Bay, Steve suddenly realized that what he was seeing was a completely controlled environment. A crude barbed-wire fence bared the way to the water's edge. Tall, metal towers with camera's on their summits glared down at every corner of the shoreline. The great Statue of Liberty, which had stood for freedom, looked to be the last thing in the area that was not in chains. But even from Steve's far away location, he could see the machines of deconstruction around the statue. It was being taken down.
Steve's soul violently twisted at the horrors before him. It was as if all of his nightmares and enemies had come together in one terrible sight, and in a moment of pure panic, he turned to face the street again and ran, hoping to find someone-anyone-who could tell him what was going on and how he could stop it.
As he aimlessly trudged passed the obstruction of vehicles; Steve stole a brief glance at his visage in planes of cracked glass of an vacant storefront window. For a moment or two, he fixed his dismal blue eyes on the illusion of haggard face of defeated soldier, a confused soul looking for answers.
...Truth...
He looked damaged, the chiseled lines of his broad jaw, swathed with beard that grew halfway above his Adam's apple and his blonde hair was cropped with a spearheaded point at the hairline. All defiance that once burn into the swirls of his clear azure eyes was dimmed and the color of his skin displayed no vibrancy, just ashen with remnants of bruises. He had changed, devolved into drifter of time. He was no longer Captain America, but forgotten soldier who had lost the will to fight.
Looking down, he noticed that he was wearing an old, tattered bomber jacket, something caught his eye. A red sash was tied over his left was the color of the German High Command, the symbol of enslavement. There was tacky blood smeared over his jacket and blossoming through the thin layer of his undershirt. Horrified, at the lurid sight, Steve faltered a step back; struggling to regain his memories. Panting out heaving breath, he scanned the desolated area, his eyes filled with tears as pain assailed through his veins. He wanted to crash to his knees, and unleash raw screams into the bleak air. "What happened to our freedom?" he growled, brokenly.
"The world has changed, my darling," Hearing the familiar, rich English voice. Steve whipped his head around to direction of wistful hope that cradled into his wary soul, and stared at her, his Peggy Carter standing in front of a burning oil drum.
She was different, not an old woman, but utterly restored with beauty and fire as he remembered. His ladylove, wore a lifeless semblance that daunted him, her chocolate eyes held no warmth just darkness of corrupted willpower. Silky brown ringlets were pinned into a tight bun, and her complexion pale from the lack of sunlight.
When he took in her full appearance, his heart plummeted into his churning stomach. A leather uniform covered her lithe and curvaceous body, it was pure black, with imprinted symbols of HYDRA on the left side of her chest, almost reminding him of the insignia of the Schutzstaffe.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Steve felt his jaw drop, and tears slope down his cheeks. Peggy remain uprooted, her eyes cold and deaden, almost like she had been drained from emotion. The fullness of her red lips was fastened neutral line of obedience-she looked soulless. "...we can never go back home, Steve."
Her robotic tone was unnerving, especially considering the magnitude of her statement. Steve hardly felt like this woman wasn't Peggy at all; she lacked all that he had fallen for. Now she was only a shell-no longer Peggy Carter and no longer human. Steve looked into her cold gaze and tried to see in her eyes any spark of the woman he knew and loved. He could not.
"That may be," he said at last, his voice cracked and broken. Hanging his head in grief, he sighed and wondered if it was even worth it to fight, but seeing his own vague shadow on the concrete before him, a tiny bit of memory and fire ignited in his heart. He was still Captain America, even if nothing else was left to stand for freedom in the world. "You might be right, but I refuse to accept this."
Peggy glared him emptily, her gloved hand brandished against the pistol attached to thigh hostler strap. "How dare to oppose the words of HYDRA," she growled, locking her dark eyes onto his firm chest. "This is our new order...There is no weakness or defiance against the Imperium Skull. All defilers have perished into the ashes of old world. Those that have survived no longer wear their humanity."
"If we reject humanity," Steve said, now finding it nearly impossible to look Peggy in the eye, "...what's the point of survival?"
Feeling a distribution in her altered mind, Peggy aimed the nozzle of the gun directly at him, finger was poised on the trigger. "There is no point of living. We are legion to the Skull. Our human existence is his will, and if you defy that order then death will claim you."
A small, out of place smile appeared on Steve's lips, and he spread his hands outward and spoke with absolute conviction, wondering what results it would bring from a person who was beyond humanity. "So be it. Give me liberty, or give me death."
There was vague sense of familiarly that lanced inside Peggy's vacant heart when those words pierced through her altered programming. She was still at first; her knuckles grew rigid and gun absently lowered to her side. It was his voice...A strong and unyielding tone that forced her to blink upon recognition in that mere second; she felt a prickle of humanity return to her.
"Liberty?" she spoke lowly, trying to grasp onto the truth before her. "It was a word I used to recite when all hope seemed lost...When you weren't there."
"I'm sorry, Peggy," Steve said, his throat threatening to close as emotion swelled in his chest. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. But I can't fix that. All I can do is my best, and that means no compromise. No regrets. We can't let HYDRA do this; we have to fight for what we believe. Do you believe in liberty?"
Peggy's dark eyes ghosted over with tormented confusion and her face went blank as she dropped the gun to her boots. She choked out a ragged breath and blinked slowly, fighting to regain clarity in her distressed vision by the measure of humility in his calm voice. "I-I don't know what to believe in anymore," she blanched a step back, almost feeling off balance until Steve swooped her in the embrace of his arms. Breathing steadied, she gaze up at him, staring into his light blue eyes that held memory and trust: the eyes of humanity.
"Steve..."
"Yeah, Peggy; it's me," Steve answered in a soothing voice, holding Peggy's frame close to his own. That utterance of his name, though a single word, had been the breaking through. She had become a part of herself-her true self-again, the same girl he had fallen for in World War II. The closeness of the one he held most dear brought tears to his eyes, he felt he could have held her forever. "Believe in me," he said gently. "Believe in Captain America."
"They've taken so much from us there just empty..." Peggy screwed her lips up into a grimace, pressing them tight, trying to feel again so that she could have some hope to fight; but she knew it wasn't possible. She brought her hand to his bristled jawline, tracing her fingers underneath his lip. She eventfully focused into the stillness of his blue eyes, and tried to find a reason to put her faith back to the impossible. "Steve, we go back. Everyone we knew now belongs to HYDRA."
Steve's countenance fell, and he gripped Peggy's shoulders with his hands, firmly but without harming her. "Who?" he asked, his anxiety edging into his tone.
"The Soviet red haired spy named Natasha Romanova, Samuel Wilson, and..." Peggy uttered, sensing there was a raving storm growing inside his heart. Steve's voice carried a sense of urgency: she knew that Bucky was a part of the group of resistance and that his fate was sealed with the other captives who withheld defiance cause the new order of enslavement and dehumanization.
"James Barnes." she added, with heaviness and regret wavering in her shaky tone. "...Bucky is still alive, but he's not the same."
Steve felt his heart skip a beat, and he clenched his jaw as images of his friends filled his mind. Belonged to HYDRA? What could have happened to bring about such a horrendous result? "Where are they, Peggy?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
Peggy's demeanor changed into a darkened expression. She narrowed her eyes, and drew out a dismal breath. "I'm sure that they all survived. If they did...The Skull would have put them into the Chamber. A underground prison located in the subway tunnels."
Steve didn't have to think about the new information very long before he knew what he needed to do. Looking into Peggy's brown eyes and searching for someone he could trust, he took a risk. "Peggy, can you take me there? I have to find them."
She crouched down and retrieved her gun. "It's not an easy to road to take, Steve," she returned with the gravity of solemn pain wavering in her voice. Her dark eyes cast over the sleek black metal of the pistol clutched in her hand; she tried not to regather her memories, and focused on the mission. When her gaze looked back up at him, and she stared into his benevolent azure eyes; Peggy saw the threads of his resilient soul being ripped to shreds and the weight of humanity piled on his shoulders. She straightened on her boots, and grasped his forearm. "I will take you there to find James Barnes."
Steve allowed a smile to ghost his face, he drew his hand lightly across Peggy's cheek, sighing quietly. This woman-the one who never shied away from danger for the sake of others-this was the Peggy he loved. "Thank you, Peggy," he said, with a soft dismal breath. Leaning forward, he gently kissed her forehead. "Let's go.
When Peggy felt the soft pressure of his warm lips coxed against her skin, the vicious jolt of regret tear into her heart. She recoiled back a step, evidently trying to grasp on the arise of emotions stirring in her veins. When his fingers brushed delicately over her clenched jaw, she nearly shuttered. "How do know that you can trust me, Steve?" she asked, dejecting out bitter words and kept her eyes narrowed at the gun.
The rages of thunder whacked against her chest, Peggy needed to regain some form of old existence-the indomitable fire that HYDRA failed to douse out. She needed to become his best girl again.
"We're not the same people as we once were...This world is being destroyed piece by piece and humanity is at its weakening point of betraying the very name of freedom." With that, Peggy chanced a glare and focused her dark eyes steady onto his chiseled, bristled face, and his searing blue eyes held a clear promise and looked past the darkness of HYDRA with nothing but confidence, strength and the utmost of salvation. He was standing on his guard, preparing to march into battle. She swept her hand over his jacket, feeling the pulse of his strong heartbeat reminded her that Captain America wasn't giving up the fight and neither would Agent Carter. "We need a strategy Captain. We can't just raid enemy lines..."
"Alright; what do you suggest?" Steve asked, an absent smile tugging at his lips. "What do you know about this place?"
"We just need the basic layout of the foundation." She drew out a harsh breath, struggling to admit the truth to him. "What you must know is that I have been pretending to be under the Skull's bloody influence, a necessary method of deception to gain access to the main subway lines. So far, I have discovered three exit points that lead outside the city's barriers." She pulled out a crinkled piece of paper, and unfolded it, revealing a fading map. She edged her hand to his. "This was all I could manage to dig up from a lead enforcer. It's outline of the flood chambers."
"Where is the Chamber geographically?" Steve asked, glancing at the map in her hands. He was quickly becoming the Captain America who had led men into battle and worked through strategy, and it felt good. "If it's outside the city, then our main focus needs to be choosing one of those three exit lines and getting out through it. Which one is nearest to our position?"
Peggy's eyes dipped abashedly as her fingers swept over his rough knuckles, seeming impregnable to the pinch of agony in her chest. Releasing a calm sigh, she struck a glance back at his dim and candid features and nodded. "The drainage reservoir is only a few blocks down," she clarified, her fingers still clasped over his arm. "We need to move to quickly, Captain, before darkness hits the main streets. We have one chance."
"I'll follow you lead, ma'am," Steve answered, smiling a bit. As terrible as the situation was, this did feel good, to be the Captain America of the old days again.
The air thickened with stagnate water slipping through the rusted cracks of low sloped pipes against the grime covered walls. Steve felt his nose crinkle as the repulsive stench of decay entered his nostrils and wavered down his throat. He couldn't breathe for a moment; his boots sloshed through the puddles of murky water, and he trudged further into the darkened tunnel. His wandering blue eyes raked over heaps of trash flowing in the narrow wedge of cement; there were visible remnants of tattered clothing bundled in the piles of sodden newspapers, tarps and crushed soda cans. Evidence that people-or rather the condemned of HYDRA had once lived tunnels.
Steve, taking his eyes off his footsteps for a moment and fixing them on his guide a few feet away, made an inquiry. "How far do we need to travel in this tunnel?"
Sparing the distance between them, Peggy had managed to steal a glance at the super-soldier in the moment her heeled boots sloshed in the stream of murky water filled with scraps of trash. Curling her lips into a distasteful grimace, she took a deep breath, and collected herself. "Not much further, Steve," she spoke with a despairing edge in her monotone voice, feeling a flood of impulse omission surge in her veins.
With graceful motion, Peggy spun around, summoning her cool poise and defenses while holding his stare of intent blue eyes. There was no clearing from the tunnel, just a wall consisting of rusted metal gates. Her lip twitched, brown eyes dimmed as phantoms of regrets echoed in her mind. She tore her gaze away from him, holding onto the reserves of her unyielding stubbornness. "We need to breach the stairway. It's the only way we can follow the directional line to the drainage chamber."
Steve drew out a ragged breath, recalling a measure of forbearance against the harrowing situation. He glanced around observantly, sensing a strange chill wavering in the dense air. "Can you tell me if there will be any guards?" he inquired, setting his blue eyes on the gated crevice. He barreled his pace closer to her; however, the puddles underneath his boots gave away his position, as he stood at her side, and used his massive body as a shield upon reacting to the pinch of dread twisting in his gut. "We need to move, Peggy," he said softly, upon noticing at he was disarmed. "I don't seem to have my shield..." he trailed off, noticing the fact for the first time.
Peggy stared at him, listening to the uneasiness in his voice. "Is that you're logical way of engaging unknown enemy territory, Captain?" she raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. "I thought you carried more than just a shield in battle. You fought so many times without it..."
"Yeah, the shield definitely isn't the deal-breaker," Steve agreed, stepping over a pile of refuse and trying to get his mind out of the junky sewer, recalling memories of the battles that Peggy spoke of. "It sure is helpful, and there's nothing like it in the world. But you're right; I do carry more to a fight than just the shield, and more than any other weapon could provide." Steve put his hand out and gently touched Peggy's shoulder. "I take hope with me, too," he proclaimed. "Hope and determination, do you know who instilled those things into me better than almost anyone else?"
"Do enlighten me, Captain," Peggy said as her eyes settled on a tattered stuffed animal bear floating in the water around her spiked heels. It was obvious that the toy had once belonged to a child; most of the children were orphaned and sent to the camps to become dormant soldiers for the Red Skull's growing army.
Peggy had clung onto hope, coveting it and keeping it guarded from the erosion of the darkened souls. Hiding underneath a deceptive mask, it was necessary for survival and to gain access on the underground prisons. She had spent many of her years protecting lives, and leading a charge of resistance with Natasha Romanova and James Barnes-they were the last pieces of defiance for humanity. The bear represented everything that was lost; it was the only symbol of innocence that didn't get thrown into the ashes. She needed to grasp onto faith again...She needed to believe in the impossible by putting everything she had left to salvage in this grim world into his heart.
"You, Peggy," Steve answered sincerely, looking her in the eye. "You were the shield over my soul. I could never have done what I did without you at my side."
Peggy swallowed, in all those moments of allowing people to believe that she had been unscathed by the loss of him, she was actually burying her heart further into her iron layers, keeping herself guarded from illusions of her dreams spending a life with him. There was a desperate need to lean against his firm chest and melt into the broad expanse of his muscles that held so much power that it like swirls of relentless fire against her skin. It was until his words brushed a tentative recourse that kept her steady during the abiding moment of understanding what had been truly vital in her new life when she was granted a chance to live again.
"You have made it through without me, Steve," she whispered, holding back the tears. She gazed into his endearing blue eyes, so focused and still and yet lost within memories of pain. Carefully, she brought her hand up to his sweaty face, fingers traced over the sharpened edge of his bristled jaw. He never allowed his stare to resume back into the shadows; he was staring at her with undeniable love. "I know there is something deeper that keeps you laden from daring yourself to move to another point of direction."
"I suppose that there is," Steve agreed with a nod, his body never faltered. He was filled with confidence; poise and assurance that they would make it out alive. He slipped his finger through her brown curls, and stared into her downcast eyes with fire ablaze in her blue irises. Steve never had been one to dim out the truth. It was one of the greater qualities he had than most men of his time. "...but you were the one who showed me that truth. And even when you were not physically beside me, your face and memory always kept me going. Without his friends, Steve Rogers would never have become Captain America."
"I'm afraid the meaning of friendship as died out, Steve," Peggy managed to say, holding her lips into a tight grimace. There was pound of resistance racking against her heart; looking down at the stuffed bear, she recalled the distraught memories and images she had collected over a short time. "The world doesn't need another hero to save the day," she paused, forcing a great deal of effort to meet his tender, sure gaze. "...it needs a good soldier to carry on a fight when we have lost our strength to do it on our own. I don't know what is waiting for us in the chamber and if your friends are still alive, but I know that we will face it together, Captain."
Steve smiled and fought to keep his eyes dry. "Yeah, Peggy, we'll face it together, and I can be the good soldier you need me to be." Reaching for her hand, Steve caught hold of it and grasped it tightly, letting his warmth spread over her cold hand. "HYDRA still has a lot to reckon with," he added with a defiant tone and smile.
Peggy took a moment to reclaim her strength, even though she tried to prevent her heart was slipping into a free fall; tried to replace doubt with trust in that mere second she stole another glance at his blue eyes, shining against the tarnished light caressing over the square edge of his slacken jaw.
She begun to wonder if they had a small, evident chance of making out alive, but then again Peggy Carter was a survivor of two different lifetimes. "Then we best get a move on, Captain Rogers," she said, simply, interweaving her fingers against his knuckles. She called on reservations, holding back urges to indulge his lips with feverish contact. It wasn't the time to disarm her heart from all defenses. She had to remain focus on the mission. There would b another chance to have a dance with him. "Lead the way."
Before he let her hand slip out of his own, Steve pulled Peggy closer and embraced her in his strong arms, savoring the feeling of her closeness. He had longed to do this so many times, always with the despair in his mind that it could never happen. Now she was here, in his arms, still as beautiful as the day he had met her. Steve closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, never wanting to let this moment pass, never wanting to let Peggy go.
A/N: A huge thank- you goes out to my co -writer. She is the one who gives Steve his voice and keeps his soul, and also to, JuliaAurelia who inspires me with Steggy ideas and details. Enjoy and thank you.