Fury had to call for Tasha and another agent to help Coulson and her to the medics.
Tasha had a small smirk on her face when she came and saw Nate sprawled on the floor—Natasha had been one of her trainers and they had gotten close despite the little threat when she was working for Tony, because they were both called Natasha, she was Nate and Tasha was Tasha, always.
"You know the footage of you and Coulson racing to Fury's office is being sent to everyone." Tasha said as she hulled Nate up, arming a slender arm around Nate's waist while Nate's arm slipped around her shoulder.
"I thought it would." Nate winced when she put too much weight on her right leg. "Howie, you can let go now."
Obediently, Howie did. Nate smiled at her dog brightly, ignoring the traces of Coulson's blood on his muzzle as she praised him.
"Evil damn thing." Coulson grunted as he was hulled up to his feet by the random male agent.
"You're just a sore loser." Nate shot back at him as they began to make their slow way to the medics.
"You cheated with that damn thing." Coulson argued.
"You shot me in the leg with a Taser." Nate pointed out as they exchanged glares.
"Only after you set that thing on me." Coulson snapped.
"Howie's not a thing! He's my robot dog!" Nate defended.
Tasha had withhold a sigh. Whenever Nate and Coulson got together, they always brought out the other's childish side. They had been like that since Nate had distracted Coulson so Tony could sneak out last year. This thing between them was only going to get worse now Nate landed being the handler of Captain America.
There was no lasting damage to either of them though both would be limping for a while. They had been given one cutch to help them around for at least the rest of the day, and both had spent most of their time in the medical bay glaring at each other.
Nate was able to leave first as the doctors thought a few of the bite marks on Coulson's leg may need stitches.
Just before she left the medical bay, she stuck her tongue out at Coulson, making him scowl at her, and limped away.
She had to get things ready for the Captain after all.
Steve slid into the black SUV after Fury after he calmed down slightly.
Seventy years. How could seventy years have passed? Where was Peggy? Howard? Were they dead? Gone like his New York?
Fury had said it was Time Square, but that wasn't how he remembered it. All that colour on giant TVs built on to the tall rising buildings, all the noise, cars and people.
The people really were different. Dames had been walking around in trousers or in tiny skirts that showed almost all of their legs, men was sloppily dressed in baggy trousers and such. And their hair, all the different colours and styles.
It was so strange.
Part of him expected his lungs to seize up in a panic-attack, part of him still hadn't gotten used his completely healthy body even after three years—or seventy-three years now, wasn't it?
"You'll get used to it." Fury attempted to reassure him, though Steve couldn't understand how he could get used to this. "Your handler will help you."
"Handler?" Steve questioned.
Fury pulled a plastic screen out of his pocket, tapped it a moment which made it light up before handing it to Steve, who held it awkwardly as he peered down at it.
A picture of a dame stared back at him with familiar dark eyes. She was pretty; a small pert nose, slim lips tilted up in a smile, arched dark eyebrows and high-cheekbones. Her skin was a golden colour from the sun, and she had dark curly hair that framed her face with random streaks of bright red running through it. Part of her hair was tucked behind one ear, showing off three diamond studs in her ear.
"That's Agent Howard." Fury informed. "She's going to be looking after you and help you settle in to the new century. She'll help catch up with the last seventy years."
"Her eyes." Steve muttered as he stared down at the screen. "They're familiar."
Fury smirked before telling him that he was holding a phone in his hand, which lead to Fury explaining about how phones had changed over the years on their way back to S.H.I.E.L.D.
Steve easily spotted Agent Howard, who was seated calmly in the waiting room of S.H.I.E.L.D, her hair was easily recognisable.
Her hair was scrapped back into a ponytail, she wore dark jeans with a white blouse—the blouse unbuttoned enough to show a hit of a black vest underneath—sneakers and a blazer. The diamonds sparkled from her ears in the light. The Yorkshire terrier was lying next to her sneakers calmly, and a leather bag was on the other side of her feet.
"Howard." Fury greeted as they walked over to the young woman.
"Fury." She greeted as she glanced up from where she was sketching in a sketch book, before turning to look at Steve. "What a dreamboat Captain." She smirked as his cheeks flush.
"Channelling your brother again." Fury commented before handing her a twenty.
"I told you, he would freak out." Agent Howard said as she took the twenty and pocketed it. "You shouldn't bet against a genius."
"You're socially inept." Fury told her.
"Am not." She argued as she put her sketch book away.
"Should be with how you were brought up." Fury said shortly making Steve confused. "I'll leave Captain Rodgers in your hands."
With that said, he turned on his heel and left them.
"It's nice to meet you, Captain Rodgers." Agent Howard said as she stood up and held her slender long-fingered hand.
She was tiny. That was the first thought that crossed Steve's mind as he looked down at her, she barely came up to his biceps. She had about the same height, perhaps a bit shorter, as his had been pre-serum.
"It's nice to meet you, Agent Howard." Steve shook her hand strongly with his larger hand.
"Call me Nate." Agent Howard—Nate—told him. "I don't do the whole last name thing."
"Please call me Steve than, Nate." Steve told her making her smile at him.
"Now that's settled, let's go." She said as she grabbed her bag before beginning to wall to the doors, Steve and the Yorkshire terrier quick to follow her.
"Where are we going?" He asked her as he reached her stride, making her glance at him.
"You have a date." She reminded him. "You've kept Aunt Peggy waiting long enough."
He almost stumbled in shock. Aunt Peggy? As in his Peggy? Peggy, Peggy was still alive.
"She's still alive?" He breathed.
"Still alive at the ripe old age of ninety-five." Nate informed him.
He breathed deeply and gave her a small smile, she eyed him carefully for a moment.
"She's had a full and happy life, Steve." She reassured him before slipping into the back of a dark car with him following her.
It was late afternoon when they arrived in Massachusetts. Nate made him change into his old military uniformed, that was in perfect condition, before leading him to the day room of the retirement home that was Peggy's home.
It was empty apart from one elderly woman, and Steve stilled when he met her eyes.
Familiar dark eyes stared out of a familiar face, a face that had been lined with age but was still recognisable. Her hair was longer than he remembered, a foreign silver instead of familiar rich brown. She was dressed in a black skirt suit with black low heels, her stand as confident as ever.
Different, yet familiar.
But she was Peggy and she was still beautiful.
"You're late." Peggy said and he smiled an almost tearful smile at the familiar words.
"I'm sorry." Steve told her honestly, barely aware of Nate moving further into the room and towards the piano in the back of the room.
"You're here now." Peggy reassured him as she held out a slender aged hand which he took gently in his strong one.
The strong but somehow gentle notes of a slow song began to play, and Peggy lead him into the dance he had promised her only a day or so ago for him, but seventy years ago for her.
They lost themselves in the dance and music that Nate played beautifully for them.
Seventy years had passed in a day, everyone had grown old without him and the world was so strange now, but as Steve danced carefully with Peggy in his arms to Nate's music, he thought he may adjust—with their help any way.