Chapter Six

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Apparently the Stork Club was more than a little embarrassed at finding they'd unwittingly played host to an illicit meeting. Or rather, Peggy thought wryly, they were embarrassed at having been caught.

Either way, when Steve and Peggy returned to their table after their most recent turn on the dance floor, they found a waiter from the Stork club. He came bearing profuse apologies for the disruption to their evening, a complimentary bottle of perfume for Peggy, and the news that their bill was on the house.

"Mr. Billingsley insists," the waiter informed them. "Please, have a pleasant evening."

As it grew later, the place got more crowded. The dance floor was jammed with people when they next tried to dance. Peggy didn't exactly mind being pressed so close to her captain—she found she quite liked the tight circle of his arm about her, and it really was breathtaking to look up and find his face so near her own—but the noise and bustle made it hard to talk.

Apparently she wasn't the only one who felt that way. On their third circuit around the floor, Steve dropped his lips to her ear. "Want to head out?"

Closing her eyes, Peggy absorbed the moment to its fullest—the music, the tobacco smoke, the dance floor beneath her feet, the feel of his hands on her back and around her fingers—and then she nodded.

"Let's go."

It was very late when they slipped out of the club and onto the sidewalk, leaving the noise and bustle behind. Steve's hand drifted to her back again in a seemingly involuntary gesture, gently ushering her through the door. Had it been anybody else, Peggy would have bristled, but she suspected they both felt the same need for connection, for reassurance.

Neither one felt like going home, so they wandered down the sidewalk towards Central Park. The park wasn't yet closed, despite the late hour. Without speaking, they found an empty park bench beneath an arc light and settled on it in mutual agreement.

The night was cool. Steve wordlessly offered her his jacket, and when she shook her head, he hesitantly put his arm around her instead.

"This okay?" he asked anxiously. She nodded and leaned into him, settling her head on his shoulder. This was a whole new world, the military framework they'd always operated within was gone, and she didn't want to lose a single opportunity.

Tonight there were no captains, no agents. They were simply Steve and Peggy.

"What would you have done if the plane hadn't crashed?" she asked abruptly, looking up at the moths dancing beneath the light.

"I'd have come back to you," he answered, his voice low. There wasn't any hesitation; clearly she wasn't the only one who had imagined this little fantasy. "Finished out the war." Now he hesitated briefly. "Planned to ask you to go dancing after we caught Schmidt. Maybe…" he trailed off. They'd always had unspoken hopes for their future.

"I had a ring," he said finally, simply.

She'd known. Falsworth had found it in Steve's things, when they'd been packing them to be shipped home. He'd brought it to her, and she'd thought the heartbreak would kill her.

It hurt. Even now, with him here beside her, the loss of him, of that longed-for future—it still hurt. Her throat tightened, the iron fist of grief clamping down around her lungs. The world blurred through suddenly wet eyes. "You're very late," she managed.

Steve swept his thumb comfortingly back and forth against her upper arm. "You were my first thought when I woke up," he confessed. "Wish I could've made it in time."

"You could have." Peggy stopped leaning against his shoulder and pulled away to look him squarely in the face. Her voice shook miserably, sudden rage and anguish mingling. "Time travel, right? You could have showed up for our dance the first time. You could have been right with me the minute the Valkyrie went down."

She didn't realize the angry tears had escaped down her cheeks until he shifted and dug a handkerchief out of his pocket, offering it hesitantly.

"I could have," he confessed. "But it wouldn't have been fair to you. So much would have changed for me, and nothing for you. You deserved the time to grow too."

He paused to take the damp handkerchief back once she was done with it. "Besides," he continued earnestly, "The years right after the war are a turning point—a starting point for a lot of things in the future. I don't—I didn't want to stop you from doing those things. And a lot of your file was redacted when I saw it. I'm still not sure where you were or what you were doing for most of that time. This seemed like my best bet."

Peggy closed her eyes, pressing her fingers into her temples. Though she hated to admit it, Steve was right. She'd done a lot of growing since he died. She'd laid the foundations for a new organization to take the place of the outdated SSR, and she'd found her professional footing; all things that probably wouldn't have happened if she'd married her captain right after the war.

And she would have married him, if he hadn't gone down.

"I'm so sorry, Peggy," he whispered at last. "I'm so sorry I couldn't come back sooner."

In response, she reached across the space between them and squeezed his hand. He was warm, and solid, and alive—more than a decade older and wiser and sadder, but he was here, with a heart that was very clearly still hers.

"You're here now," she breathed at last.

They were silent. Above them, moths danced in the arc light. Steve's shoulder was firm and very real against hers, and his hand was warm and strong and somehow very comforting.

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The first light of dawn was tinting the sky when he walked her home. Peggy knew full well that the next day was going to be miserable without having had a wink of sleep, but she didn't care. This night had been fully worth it.

At the foot of the apartment stairs he paused, clearly unsure where to go from there. Peggy solved the problem by stepping close; he folded her into his arms without a word. For a small age they held each other, each feeling the other's heartbeat.

"When do you have to go back?" she asked at last, when she was sure her voice wouldn't shake.

She'd never asked him before—hadn't wanted to hear his answer. But it was time.

She needed to know the worst.

For an instant, she wondered if he'd stopped breathing at her question. She felt sudden tension in the arms surrounding her. When he spoke, it was slowly, as though he was feeling his way with every word. "Technically I don't have to go back."

Peggy's pulse thundered in her ears; the night air felt stifling. Hesitant joy began to bloom in her chest; she tried hard to beat it back, not daring to hope. "But wouldn't it—change the future, if you stayed here?"

Steve nodded against her hair. "Yeah. It—it would probably make a new timeline, a slightly different future, but it shouldn't damage anything in the big picture."

She closed her eyes. For one precious instant, she looked into the years to come and saw a life with him at her side, never to be whisked away to that distant future again.

Then, resolutely, Peggy set her hand against his chest and stepped back. The furrows in his forehead deepened, but he didn't try to restrain her.

"I can't ask that of you," she whispered. He'd already lost his whole world once before, and he clearly played an enormous part in the future—had friends, associates, a team.

She couldn't ask him to leave all that behind just for her.

She loved him too much for that.

"Peggy," he started, but she shook her head, trying to get the next words out before her courage failed her.

"I can't ask it of you," she repeated again, her voice stronger even as she felt her heart breaking. "I can't take the responsibility of asking you to leave your life all over again. You might come to resent me for it—not now," she hurried to add as he tried to interrupt her, "but someday—and I couldn't bear that."

Her miserable confession hung like a rock in the air between them and she hated herself fiercely for her own honesty. Steve's face was unreadable. Peggy twisted her mouth into a sad little attempt at a smile.

"I don't suppose there's room for two in your time machine?"

She wasn't sure if she actually meant the offer or not, if she could bring herself to do it. But ever since he'd appeared on her doorstep, she had known that she couldn't bear to lose him again.

And if that meant leaving everything behind, well…

Steve's jaw had slackened at her half-serious suggestion. He stared at her, clearly surprised. Then the startled shock ebbed away, replaced by a burning intensity that looked very like—admiration? Love? Either way, it made her cheeks prickle with unexpected heat.

"I've got something to show you," he said.

It wasn't anything she'd expected him to say. Confused by his apparent non sequitur after the devastating bombshell she'd just delivered, she watched as he dug something out of his pocket and offered it to her.

"I only have the one," he said, as though that should mean something to her.

It was a—actually, she wasn't sure what it was. Some kind of bracelet or wrist watch perhaps? Peggy took it carefully, turning it over in her hands.

"This is your time machine," she realized suddenly, and immediately felt foolish. There wasn't room for two in this. He must think her such a simpleton.

"It's very—sleek," she murmured, pretending to examine the little device in her hands. In reality, she didn't care. Steve couldn't take her with him, and she couldn't ask him to stay...

She didn't hear Steve's response, but he obligingly repeated himself. "It runs on Pym Particles."

"I haven't heard of them," Peggy told him absently. She was fighting the desire to throw this little thing on the ground and smash it with her heel. Such a tiny thing to enable so much heartache.

"They won't be invented for another thirty years or so," Steve said. Something in his voice made her look up. He met her gaze steadily. "I used the last of them to get here."

The object in Peggy's hands abruptly lost all meaning. A wave of sudden comprehension swept over her, spinning her world like a top.

She barely heard her own voice.

"You've already made your choice, haven't you?"

Steve nodded.

Peggy sucked in a breath. Everything abruptly seemed too sharp, too near. Somewhere a cricket was chirping, overwhelmingly loud. In the distance a car horn blared. Above them the brightening sky was tinted pearl and pink, and the soft early morning breeze brushed her face. A new day had begun.

And Steve was...

The words came breathlessly, without conscious volition. "You're going to stay?"

Steve swallowed hard. "I made my own choice to stay in this time," he said slowly. "But—Peggy, I—I think whether I stay in New York or not should be up to you."

Her mind was whirling. She felt almost weightless. "Up to me?" she repeated. "Steve, New York is your home. Why wouldn't you stay?"

"Guess it depends on whether I have anything to stay for." He shifted, his eyes seeking hers with such mingled hope and fear that her ribcage felt too small to hold her suddenly racing heart. "I—do I, Peg? Do I have anything to stay for?" His voice dropped to a whisper as he risked everything and bared his heart. "I love you, Peggy. I always have."

Fierce affection flooded Peggy's soul. Even in the dim light she could read him—his worry about overstepping bounds, his deep desire to respect her choices, and beneath it all, the passionate love that he felt for her and her alone.

She'd seen evidence of that love before, during the war—been aware of its existence, cherished its sweetness—but it had never seemed so close to the surface as tonight.

They had both loved and lost so much, waiting for the war to end before making a move.

And now they had a second chance against all odds.

She must have hesitated too long, because suddenly she saw his face shutter, the light in his eyes going out, leaving bleak heartbreak behind. "Then again, we could—we could just leave it at the dance. I mean, that's all we ever…"

Peggy rose on her toes and kissed him hard. She felt him stagger, then fold her infinitely close as he returned her kiss with a strength and fervor that sent shivers racing through her.

"Oh, my darling," she breathed between kisses—kisses that tasted like tears and felt like heaven. "The war is over. You can come home."

He laughed out loud, a choked, joyful sound, and nodded. "Okay," he whispered, "okay," and kissed her again.

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Yay! This chapter has given me no end of trouble, and then last night it all fell together and I've been as excited as a kid on Christmas morning to give it to you. Literally, I have butterflies. I hope you like it. :D

(And no, this isn't the end of the story. More chapters to come, I promise.)

Thank you, by the way, for your continued readership. I know as I've gotten older and my life has become busier, that the updates don't come out as fast as they used to. But for those of you who are my treasured long-time readers, as well as the brand new folks who just found me—I thank you from the bottom of my heart.


Guest reviews:

DBZFAN45: Yes, you guessed the dress! Well done. Thank you!

Guest: You know what, he could pass as a professor! (Honestly looking forward to the day when Chris Evans plays a bearded professor somewhere).

Ryn: Awww, thank you so much! I'm completely flattered and very, very happy that you enjoy my stories. And wow, year 7 of writer's block? That's oddly impressive. Here's hoping they come to an end soon!

Germaine: Thank you so much! I do try.

Guest: Oooh, great guess! This dress was actually intended to be the dress from the dance scene in Age of Ultron, but I can see how it could look like the one in Endgame too. Thanks for your response!

Guest: Awww, thanks! You are so very kind, and I'm extremely fortunate to have had you as a reader for all these years. Thank you!