In Bloom
2.

'Wake up. It's time to wake up.' A strong, but gentle hand rests on her shoulder, squeezes once. His voice is kind, sweet and wonderful. 'You need to wake up now.' She could fall asleep again. Just knowing he's there, that he's talking to her. It's a struggle, but she manages to open her eyes. 'There. See? I was worried you had started to get lazy. Thanks for proving me wrong again.'

The boy glows. His sharp, blue eyes blossom with joy at the sight of her. And he smiles, a beautiful smile; a sad, happy smile. The blue suit which clings to his skin is spotless, perfect, just like the tattered angel who dons it. The star at his chest. Captain America runs his fingertips across her cheek.

'How about we take a walk?'

She tries to speak.

'Don't talk. You don't have to talk. Come on. I'll help you.'

He takes her hand in his, and helps her to her feet. It is all effortless, easy. She doesn't endure the pain of her bullet wound, of the bruises Dottie inflicted upon her. She feels as if she's floating on air. The whole while, she watches him. She watches Steve take her other hand, guide her to the door.

The splinters of the wooden box are beneath her. Dottie took the weapon; she took Howard's weapon.

She inhales sharply, turns to Steve.

'Don't worry about that right now,' he soothes. 'We need to get you home, don't we?'

'I failed,' she croaks.

'No, you didn't. You simply haven't finished yet.' Steve smiles. 'You don't fail, Peggy.' Without applying any pressure, Steve manages to unlock the bolted door. It breaks open, and they are free. 'There.' He looks over to her. 'Best we be a little careful. I don't think we're welcomed here.'

'You need to go, before they––'

'I'm not going anywhere without my best girl.' Steve raises a brow. 'You know that.'

'I can't walk far, Steve.'

'Oh, yeah? Says who?'

'Look at me.'

He does.

'I should be dead.'

This hurts him. 'You'd die before we see each other one last time?' She doesn't understand what he means. Her bullet wound has started to hurt. Her back burns, and her legs are close to breaking. It hurts. Everything hurts, and she can barely breathe. Steve places an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. 'Lean on me. That should ease the pain.' He's right. She already feels better. A sigh escapes her lips.

So far, no Japanese soldiers have spotted them. The hall is clear.

'You can't leave your girl behind either,' he points out.

They take their first step forward. Peggy groans, and Steve holds her tighter. 'I left her, Steve. I can't go back to her.'

'That's stupid.'

'Don't call me stupid.'

'Sorry.'

They manage to reach the end of the hall, but Peggy has to stop. She can't describe the amount of agony she is in. Her head feels tight, still healing from Dottie's rough hands. Peggy retreats from Steve's hold, presses her back to the wall, and tries to catch her breath. Dry blood has mangled her battledress, covered her face, and she's barely recognisable. Barely human. Barely the woman she is.

Steve waits, patient and kind.

Peggy hates the way he looks at her: so soft and lovingly.

It's not fair.

It's not fair she loses those she loves so dearly.

'You must be ashamed of me, Steve, for walking away.' He frowns lightly. 'I should have done something; anything.'

'What else could you have done, Peggy?'

'I don't know.' And she doesn't know. She really doesn't know. 'I miss her.'

'You can go back to her.'

'Underwood will inform Howard of my apparent death. The news will reach SSR headquarters in no time.' She exclaims, clutching her shattered ribs. Instantly, Steve comes over, holds her. Peggy needs to sit down. She needs to lie down, and fall back to sleep. She needs a little rest. 'There's nothing left for me.'

'There is so much left for you.' Steve is close, so near, she can reach out and touch him. 'Don't die.' He repeats Angie's words as if they were his own. 'Please don't leave us, Peggy. Please don't go.'

He is her. He is her darling face, her wide, curious eyes; her charming, cute smile. Their last conversation, Angie garbed in only Peggy's blouse, touching her and holding her after Peggy's bad dream. Her fragile words, light in Peggy's ears, quiet like a lullaby. How she begged for Peggy to stay, to stay with her; to not go anywhere without her. And all Peggy could do was kiss her silent.

The way Angie looked at her when Peggy backed down from her father. The desperate plea in her eyes for Peggy to disappear, not to come back this time. She is too late to fix the damage. Time has never been on Peggy's side. So, she walked away. She said her good bye, and she left. She just left her. As if every second they shared together meant nothing. As if she never really loved her.

Steve comes back into view. He wipes away her tears.

'Walk with me?' He offers his hand.

Peggy takes his hand. He carefully pulls her to him.

'Hold this.'

The shield strapped to his back is removed, and he passes it to Peggy's free hand.

'We're going to run into a spot of bother. This will protect you.'

'Don't assume I'm your damsel in distress,' she mumbles, but retrieves the shield anyway. It is as light as a feather, and covers her from danger.

Steve chuckles. 'No. A distressing damsel, yes.' Somehow, Peggy manages to throw him one of her scary looks. He stops. 'Let's get you home.'

With the shield barricading any bullets, Peggy allows Steve to escort her out of the building. Their "spot of bother" appears when they near the exit. In a flash, Steve is gone from Peggy's side and she watches him defeat every single soldier present. She keeps the shield pressed to her, and as each second passes, the weaker she feels, the harder it is to stay awake. Steve is like a dream: bright and magnificent.

He's holding her hand again. They leave the building.

The freezing morning air surprises her. She breathes. Breathes. Steve is lost in another brawl, and, as always, he is victorious. Any bullets shot in Peggy's direction bounce of the shield, and even rebound. Steve is Captain America, her hero, her dearest, and he grins at her ear-to-ear when they near the end of the camp.

One of Steve's opponents has a radio. He knocks him down. Peggy slumps into him, eyes beginning to flutter shut.

'Not yet, Peggy. We need to get you home.'

'I left my home when I came here.'

'Don't let go of the shield. Don't let go of me.'

She doesn't remember him finding a signal, putting in the right code, because in a matter of seconds, a voice comes from the radio. He speaks English. Steve gasps in delight, and reports of Peggy's survival, that she needs help, that her companion has turned rogue, that help needs to come immediately––she has to go home.

The voice responds. Steve smashes the radio. Takes her hand.

'Help is coming. Come with me.'

It's all a blur. Suddenly, the camp is behind her, far behind her, and her feet run, her thighs ache, and the shield remains clutched to her body. Both Steve and Peggy flee, hand in hand, and they don't stop running. They run, they run, and they run. Her body surrenders, her knees give in, and she falls to the dirt.

The shield has gone.

Steve calls her name, and when she looks up, she's horrified that he's ahead of her. His feet seem to drag him away. He doesn't stop. He keeps calling for her, he keeps telling her to catch up with him, but she can't. She's too tired. She's too tired. The dirt has eaten away at her wounds, and she vomits violently.

When she looks up again, he has vanished.

Peggy doesn't yell his name. She doesn't have the energy; she wants to sleep. Her hands slip on the dirt, and she falls forward, lost and broken. Maybe she'll sleep here, she'll sleep here forever. Maybe help isn't coming, maybe Steve was all a dream, all a dream again. Maybe she's still locked in that room.

Maybe she is dead.

Rain washes away the blood, and her battledress is soaked. The rain cleanses her, washes away all the nasty stains; the rain clears away the evil which has stuck to her body. She falls asleep in the rain, and the wound in her back bleeds, bleeds, bleeds. She's pale, thin, shuddering, wet and abandoned.

Forgotten.

A hand, smaller, but rougher than Steve's, grabs Peggy by the scruff of her collar. Peggy is forced to sit upright, her knees sinking into the mud. The rain patters onto the battledress, clears the dirt from her face.

'What're you doin' lazing around, English?'

Her voice. She can hear her.

Peggy opens her eyes. She looks left. And then right.

Nothing but rain, and the fog.

'This way! Captain America is getting worried about ya, but you're just lazy!' Peggy panics. She can't see her. 'You need to get home, English.'

Peggy reaches out into the rain.

'Where are you?'

Angie's laughter is wonderful to her ears. 'You'll have to find me, won't you?'

'Wait.' Peggy scrambles to her feet. Her boot slips a little in the dirt. Her back scorches when she dares stand up. Peggy yells out, hunched forward. She scrunches her eyes shut, inhales, and straightens. Her shoulders ache tremendously, and her legs––her legs cannot go on. 'Angie, wait.' She steps forward. Her spine sends a horrid shock through her body. 'I don't know where you are.'

'I'm right here, Pegs.'

And then she can see her. A distant, faded memory. She wears one of her favourite summer dresses, and her hair is down; she's youthful, pretty and full of energy. Despite the rain, Angie is dry. Peggy steps forward again. She winces. The pain doesn't seem to end. She looks at Angie again, but she's too far away for Peggy to touch her, to feel her, to hold her, to kiss her.

'Take a walk with me.'

'How can I, when you continue to run off?'

Angie smiles gently. 'I'm not runnin' off. I'll wait for ya.'

So, with Angie several steps ahead, Peggy follows her. She keeps her eyes on Angie, and watching Angie twirl and skip in the long grass eases the pain; helps her forget. Peggy is enchanted. The war is behind her, and she lives in Angie's joy. She's able to forget about everything, and just focus on her.

Her.

Only her.

They walk for possibly hours. Neither count the passing seconds.

Until, eventually, Angie comes to a stop. Peggy is barely conscious; she's not even sure if she is. Peggy drops to her knees, her battledress sticking to her frail body. Angie kneels before her, claims Peggy's face between her hands, and has Peggy look at her. She's exactly as she remembers her. Exactly the same.

Angie is untouched by the rain. Her smile has faded some.

Now, she looks at Peggy, sorry and scared. Angie kisses Peggy's forehead, runs a hand through her hair. She nears Peggy's ear and whispers, 'Come home to me.' Peggy hears her, she hears her, and when she turns to see Angie properly, to see her eyes, her face, everything that she is, Angie is no longer there.

Peggy starts to cry. Her tears fall with the rain.

'Don't go, don't go, don't go, don't go.'

Her palms meet the mud, and she can't do this anymore. She's travelled as far as she can. Her mind has taunted her as much as it can. Peggy gives in. Peggy lets death win this round. She exhales, closes her eyes, and rests into the dirt. Minutes pass, and she hasn't moved, completely immobilised, with the faintest breath.

Heavy boots splatter into the mud several metres away. Three soldiers, a medic amongst them, are running in her direction. There's no telling how long they have travelled for. Weaponry is on their person, helmets pressed to their scalps. The man in front points forward. They see a body; it isn't moving, but it's still a body and it could be the one they are searching for.

They have responded to Steve Roger's radio transmission.

They have come to rescue her.

Both Steve and Angie have guided her here, and she is saved.

Peggy doesn't wake up when a hand reaches out for her this time. They check her pulse, have the medic briefly inspect her wounds, estimate whether she has a chance of survival or not.

She has a chance.