A/N: As a Peggy/Sousa shipper you can imagine my dismay when I learned of Sousa's death. However as a Peggy/Steve shipper I saw an opportunity. This fic is a result of that. Enjoy.
The fact that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. herself made an appearance at Agent Sousa's funeral surprised no one. They used to be partners after all. Their erstwhile romance wasn't exactly a secret either. It was for this reason that she had to break it off with Daniel. After the founding of S.H.I.E.L.D. she decided that being romantically involved with one of her agents would have been a conflict of interest. Though they ended things amicably enough, it was far from mutual. Now, with so many things left unsaid, she felt the weight of her regret on her shoulders. She still loved him after all these years, and now he would never know.
Despite being an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. he was given a military funeral in honor of his service in the war, the pallbearers being soldiers from his old platoon. Once the casket made it safely to the burial plot she stood and gave her eulogy. She decided to keep it professional, not allowing her emotions to get away from her. Steeling herself, she began:
"Today we mourn the loss of Agent Daniel Sousa, a man who was as dedicated to our cause as he was our country. Though the circumstances of his murder were unclear, we can assume it was meant to deter him from completing his mission. However, the murderer was unsuccessful. Agent Sousa completed his mission, and for that he died a hero. It is important going forward that we do not forget his sacrifice. He will be remembered and celebrated this day forward as the first agent who gave his life for S.H.I.E.L.D."
It took every ounce of restraint just to keep her voice from quivering, but she managed it.
After all the required parties finished speaking, all in attendance honored Daniel by placing a carnation onto his casket. When it was Peggy's turn, she planted a delicate kiss on the flower's petals before gingerly placing it on top. Her hand lingered for a moment as she closed her eyes to try and keep her tears from falling. A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and she wiped it away as discreetly as possible before moving on.
Peggy watched with a stoic expression as the casket containing Sousa's body was lowered into the ground. Once he was fully lowered the groundskeepers started shoveling dirt into the hole marking the end of the ceremony. Peggy would have liked to stay longer and watch longingly as the grave is gradually filled in, but that would inspire too many questions, so she departed with the other guests. Technically she was still on the clock, so she should have gone back to the office, but decided what good was being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. if she couldn't make her own hours. After such an emotionally toiling day all she wanted to do was go home early and pour herself a tall glass of brandy.
When she pulled into her driveway, she noticed a man sitting on her front step. His head hung between his shoulders, so she couldn't get a good look of his face, and in his hand, he held a bouquet of flowers. If she had an admirer, she wasn't aware of it. The man appeared to be lost in thought, because he didn't seem to take notice of her pulling up, nor when she got out of the car and closed the door behind her. She approached cautiously. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked.
The man looked up and Peggy's breath caught in her throat. Steve Rogers looked up at her and smiled slowly. "Peggy." His name on her lips sounded like a sigh of relief. She was speechless. He stood, taking a step forward. "I've been thinking all day about what I was going to say when I saw you, but now that you're here my mind's a blank," he said.
"The feeling's mutual," Peggy said softly. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she looked up and down the street and determined that he had gone unnoticed by her neighbors. She turned to him and said, "Why don't you come in and you can tell me where you've been."
"I'd really like that." He looked down at the bouquet as if he were just remembering them and held them out to her. "Here, I got you these."
She took them with shaky hands. Hydrangeas, her favorite. She nodded and looked up at him with a tight smile. "Shall we then?"
She led him up the front porch. After unlocking the door, she held it open for him. "After you."
"Thank you." He smiled brightly at her before stepping inside. "I know this is a lot to take in, and I've got so much to tell you. Luckily, we've got all the time in the world. I guess I should start from the beginning with the plane crash."
Peggy let him ramble as she followed him inside, closing and locking the door behind her. She let the bouquet fall from her hands as she swiftly unholstered the hidden pistol she kept strapped to her thigh. Before he could turn around, she pressed the barrel of the gun into his back. He shut his mouth after that. "Hands behind your head." Slowly, he complied. "Turn around." He turned to face her. He looked back at her; his brows knit together in that earnest expression that Steve always wore. She couldn't help but admire the likeness.
"Peggy, please put the gun down." Even the polite manner of speech was so much like him.
She waved her gun in the direction of the living room. "Move." He moved with slow deliberate steps, Peggy following after him her gun still trained on him.
When she got him where she wanted him, she said, "On your knees."
"I know this is very confusing for you, but—" He was interrupted by a grunt of pain as Peggy shot a bullet into his thigh.
"Don't make me repeat myself," she said coldly.
He did as he was told if not a bit clumsily. He winced as he kneeled having put pressure on his now injured leg.
"You have some nerve coming here today of all days wearing his face," she seethed.
"It's me, Peggy," he said soothingly. "It's really me. Let's just talk about this."
"Steve Rogers is dead," she said through gritted teeth. "I was there when it happened."
"I remember," he said. "I had to take a rain check on that dance. I know it's been longer than a week, but I'm here now."
Peggy's chin quivered, her eyes brimming with tears. "Surely I wasn't the only one to hear his final words," she said defiantly.
His eyes wandered to a spot behind her. "Your family used to grow hydrangeas in your back garden when you were a little girl. That's why they're your favorite. You told me that once."
Peggy's hand began to shake, her confidence wavering. "He's not the only one I told that to."
"Then let's think of this logically," he said reasonably. "Who could you have told that to who would want to hurt you like this?"
"Shut up!" she shouted. "You're playing games, trying to get into my head."
Steve sighed. "Fine," he said. "If you really think I'm a fraud then go ahead and shoot me."
She hesitated for a second before placing her finger on the trigger. Gritting her teeth, she prepared to fire, but stopped short at the sound of something metallic hitting the floor. She looked down. The bullet that had been lodged in the man's leg was now lying on the hardwood floor. She approached him with caution, kneeling down in front of him. She reached down and slipped a finger through the hole in his pant leg. The area was slick with blood, but beyond that all she felt of the smoothness of skin. The wound had closed. She looked up at him, tears freely spilling from her eyes. "Oh, Steve," she breathed.
She dropped her gun, letting it clatter to the floor as she threw her arms around him. All of the emotions she wouldn't allow herself to feel earlier in the day as well as the grief she thought long buried after all these years came out in a flood as she clung to him and cried. He held onto her just as tightly as he stroked her hair soothingly.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I lost all hope of ever seeing you again long ago. I couldn't allow myself to believe it."
Taking in her mourning attire he said, "Having just come from a funeral probably didn't help things either. Who'd you lose?"
Peggy pulled away to look him in the face. With tears still rolling down her cheeks she said, "My ex-boyfriend actually."
Steve nodded, his face taking on an expression of recognition. "I take it you're not talking about me," he said.
She shook her head. "I met him after you. This must be a lot for you to take in. I'm sorry—"
Steve interrupted before she could say anymore. "Did he take care of you while I was gone?"
Peggy scoffed. "He tried. But I'll tell you exactly what I told him: 'I can take care of myself, thank you very much.'" She couldn't help but smile at the memory of him always trying to fight her battles for her.
Steve smiled too, no doubt thinking that she hadn't changed a bit. "But was he good to you?" he asked.
Peggy smiled sadly. "Yes," she whispered.
Steve looked at her with nothing but fondness in his eyes. "Good. You should take me to see him sometime. I'd like to pay my respects."
Peggy breathed out a laugh. Of course he would say that. "I'd like that," she said. "But first you must tell me where you've been."
"It's not so much a where, as it is a when," he said.
Peggy gave him a confused smile. "What?"
"Like I said, it's a long story," he said.
"I have time," she said. She took his hands in hers and stood up, pulling him up with her. "But right now, I think I'd like that dance."