Chapter 4: Uganda Flight 0328U
Steve and Peggy slowly make their way down the slate blue jetway. Freshly vacuumed carpet cushions their feet as they proceed. Due to 'special accommodations' Peggy and Steve are the first to board. Her pragmatic Michael Kors leather crossbody purse in black and gold is slung over her shoulder while she uses her walker. No additional clothes between the two of them, expecting this to be a day trip which has now turned into something else. Steve is a ghost, lost in thought, as they find their seats and buckle up.
Peggy opens her mouth as if to say something, but thinks better of it.
Steve replays his decisions: there was no other time to ask Tony until after the events in Sekovia, when he trusted me the most, but before the Accords, when our relationship was…not so great. This was my only window…wasn't it?
Was I being stubborn?
Howard?
Should I have just gone to Howard in the 1960s as Peggy suggested?
Then we could be home right now playing a few rounds of golf before a late lunch, a couple of Nicoise salads, followed by Texas Hold'em in the evening room with Ron and Shelia.
Why did I destroy the advanced tech suit on our wedding night?
As more people come abroad, the airplane begins filling up, their eyes instinctively go to the elderly white couple that looks like they need directions getting back to Boca Raton. Steve, without moving his head, notices Mr. Beige Windbreaker sitting caddy-corner to them one row back.
Peggy slips off her shoes and pets his feet with her toes. Steve pulls away, tense, he has been avoiding eye contact since the meeting. She keeps at it despite his resistance and he slowly joins in, playing footsie with her. Peggy purses her lips attempting to hide her smile, a small victory at winning him over. Steve, still unable to look her in the eyes, says, "you know your pinky is my favorite."
That remark releases tension along Peggy's face as she smiles coyly. She opens her mouth as if to whisper, but instead of saying something personal or sexy, she starts coughing mildly until it becomes something more than just mild. It soon garners the attention of travelers nearby.
"I wish you would have stayed home."
She covers her mouth with a tissue, continuing to cough.
They both look at it and the results speak for themselves.
A cold shock steamrolls through Steve's body — a bright red splotch on the tissue.
A look of fear and doubt plaster his face.
"It is spreading Steve."
He takes in this new information.
She is referring to ovarian cancer. The cancer he thought was in remission. She has been keeping secrets. All the chemicals she was exposed to through her years during the War and then at S.H.I.E.L.D. He doesn't know who to blame first. Her previous bout with it exhausted them financially, physically, and emotionally.
"I didn't want to tell you because this meant so much to you," searching his eyes, "I just didn't want you to have more on your plate than you needed to."
Steve tries to gather his faculties, trying to remember how to talk, "I am not trading you for some piece of metal."
Peggy places her hand on top of his: wherever you go I go.
Steve's heart dances. He knew by traveling back in time he would create a new timeline with Peggy and himself. Events would not unfold the same as they did in his time, but this is too much. How am I supposed to navigate Uganda while maintaining Peggy's health?
His thoughts, pulling him in a dozen directions, subside as a single course of action crystallizes, we are getting off this flight and going to Cedar-Sinai Hospital. The moment he unbuckles his seat belt the flight doors close.
He can hear the jetway receding as the engines begin to engage.
Leaning back in his chair: F-it. As soon as we get there I am driving her to the closest hospital.
Startled by a tap on his shoulder, "Sir I am going to have to ask you to buckle your seatbelt," the stewardess asks.
Steve obliges as he receives another tap on the shoulder, but not by a stewardess.
Mr. Beige Windbreaker.
"The hospitals — no good Sailor, no good 't all."
Steve turns around to face him, excuse me.
"The hospital, in my country - is no good my friend. Better off waiting until you return 'ack to da States. Could contract something worse in the waiting room."
Ebola, Steve thinks.
The man nods in agreement, as if telepathic.
Chapter 5: Entebbe International Airport
With a seventeen-hour layover in Dubai, they make it to Entebbe International Airport, Uganda at 3 pm Kampala time. The three-level airport has shops and cafes sprinkled about. Colorful billboards advertise soft drinks and snacks. The airport is surprisingly modern. Everything is written in Bantu and Sudanese. Steve covers his eyes with sunglasses as they walk out of the airport, trapped in shame. Peggy pushes her rollator with a little less vigor than before.
On the shuttle bus to the rental car depot tension in Peggy's shoulders rise as she looks through her purse.
She whispers to Steve "It is the silliest thing…it appears I misplaced my wallet."
Seeing this as a chance to salvage his dignity, Steve stumbles to his feet as the bus is in motion, like a puppet springing to life, bravely welcoming any reprieve from his thoughts. He sits back down realizing he got a bit too excited, he observes the suspects/bus riders through his periphery. Steve is struck by how different Kampala is from America as no one seems to be attached to a smartphone. It quickly dawns on him how rusty he is at this hero stuff, back in the world he swore off all for his legacy.
His legacy.
One shield…no children.
They tried.
It was just one of their many sacrifices…a result of exposure to a whole host of chemicals during and after the War. They were never bitter, but now they are on the other side of the world attempting to do the impossible.
How am I supposed to navigate a country whose languages are a complete mystery, Peggy's health is declining rapidly, and now her wallet is missing? The mission was compromised when the cabin doors closed. All my 'powers' that are supposed to put me at an advantage are useless. What good am I to Peggy or myself? And I am the reason we are here, to begin with.
A hand falls gently on Steve's shoulder. Mr. Beige Windbreaker whispers to Steve, "No worries Sailor," before walking down the length of the bus to talk to a little Caucasian girl in Bantu. His voice is a whisper, but people around them fan out. Even though Steve doesn't know what they are saying he can feel the tension rise. The little girl gets out of her seat, walks over to Peggy, and returns her wallet without a word. The child's eyes are hungry. Peggy reaches into her wallet and is about to give her a dollar when Mr. Beige Windbreaker's hand blocks her.
"Here we do not reward thievery." Implying that in other cultures they do. Peggy nods. The child returns to her seat. Steve, through his periphery, watches Mr. Beige Windbreaker move back to his corner of the bus and resume reading his newspaper.
The passengers disembark from the bus, making their way to either a car rental agency or long-term parking, for Steve and Peggy, it is the Eurocar Rental office.
"I did not expect it to be a child."
"Neither did I."
In his periphery, Steve clocks Mr. Beige Windbreaker driving away in a silver mini-coupe from the long-term parking lot. The child runs in the opposite direction meeting up with an Indian child.
"Do you think we have a mark on our backs?"
"The question isn't if, the question is how big."
"Us being on in years. Do you believe my walker put an even bigger target on us?"
Steve wants to say something reassuring, but he cannot disagree with her.
"Yes. Right."
The line at the rental agency moves forward, "Peggy listen to me, you standing by my side will never be a liability to me. You hear me." Despite Steve's intention, the words come off flat and perfunctory.
Despite this Peggy smiles back, appreciating the gesture.
"Next," the customer service agent shouts behind the desk.
