March 1945, London
And he was. He was everything Peggy had said he would be. He proved right away that he was remarkable. At times, I was secretly jealous of him. But I think there was a little part of every man in the room that was jealous of him. I sensed that even his own best friend, Bucky Barnes, who had shared so many years with him as if they were brothers, envied him. But Bucky never really showed it and neither did I. Neither of us would let our envy amount to anything. Bucky was too bound by loyalty and love to Steve. The two were really practically brothers. As for me, I could never really admit to myself that I was envious; I had been so accustomed to being admired and looked up to my whole life, that I could not accept that I was wanting of what someone else had. It also seemed wrong to have any feeling but good ones toward someone like Steve. For he was nothing but good. America was in love with him; he was their golden boy, their hero. And Peggy was in love with him too. But, I could never admit that that was the reason I was jealous of him. I wouldn't quite say I was in love with her like Rogers was, but I felt that Peggy and I shared a special bond, and I was slightly annoyed that Rogers had joined in on it. We all thought he would come back victorious, to the sounds of cheers and applause. That Steve Rogers, the man that the country called Captain America, would return home, the war would be over and all would be well. That everything would go back to the way it was before. But, that was not what happened. Steve sacrificed himself to save thousands of others, by crashing an enemy plane, the German HYDRA division's Valkyrie, into the ocean. We didn't know what had happened to him. But the chances of surviving a crash like that weren't the strongest. Peggy, of course was devastated. She'd spoken to no one since Steve crashed his plane last week. The next day, the Colonel had ordered us all back to our base in London, thinking it would hardly be safe where we were in the Alps.
When the clock struck nine o'clock for the day, I gathered up my belongings and began to leave the office. I was filled with a sense of emptiness. I hadn't been close to Rogers, but I felt lonely without him. He had given us purpose, he was the flag that we all rallied under. And without him, there was still a war to fight, but less of what we were fighting for. We had lost our vision of what we were fighting for, what Steve was fighting for; the passion for freedom, for America. Instead of leaving us eager to follow in his footsteps and win the war for him, losing him had made us all feel hollow on the inside.
As I walked through the office rooms, I glanced towards Peggy's desk and saw her emotionlessly rearranging the things on her desk. The sight of her filled me with a sense of pity for her. It was a strange feeling that I was filled with for I had never pitied Peggy before. She had always been such a strong person that the pity would've been misplaced. Pity was for those you felt were weak and needy; Peggy was neither of those. Pitying Peggy made me increasingly uncomfortable, it was an unpleasant feeling seeing someone who was usually so tough and independent seem so empty.
I made my way over to her desk and sat down next to her.
"Peggy?" I asked.
No answer.
I put my arm around her shoulders. "Peggy, I know you are upset. But, don't give up yet. Not until we have to. I promise I'll keep looking. I will try to rescue Steve for you. We'll rescue him. Together."
What was I saying? I thought to myself. Only giving her false hope and promising something that I couldn't do. We both knew that Rogers hadn't made it out of the plane crash. But seeing her so upset made me feel obligated in any way that I could take away her misery. And also, there was a part of me, that wanted to play hero, even at a time like this. It was like acting out a terrible charade.
"Fair?" I asked.
She looked up at me, with her big brown eyes that were all red from crying and slowly nodded.