She watches him the next day. Out of the corners of her eyes. But he shows no sign of the visible distress he was in the night before.

—-

It's mid-December and Steve stands in the kitchen, waiting as the coffee in the French press seeps into the water. He leans back against the kitchen counter and relishes in the warmth the oven gives off as it bakes fresh loaves of bread.

Ms. Nancy had received a message and needed to run out and check on her daughter who was in labor. Steve had insisted that not only should she go, but that she should have Mr. Coulson take her to speed her journey. She'd thanked him profusely before worrying about their meals. Steve had kindly reassured her that he'd made plenty of meals before and would be able to manage while she was away.

He waved her and Coulson off just an hour ago. And now he stands in the magnificent kitchen, deciding what he wants to eat for breakfast.

"Oh, excuse me, sir. Sorry." He looks up to find Ms. Davies standing in the entrance, looking surprised to see him in the kitchen.

"Not a problem." He says kindly, "you're not disturbing me, did you need something?"

"Ms. Carter was requesting her breakfast tray, so I came to grab it."

He pauses, "oh, of course, um…" he looks around and then looks back at her, "do you know what she usually has on the tray?"

She tilts her head at him, "yes… Eggs, toast with jam, fresh fruit, tea. Is…" she glances around, "is Ms. Nancy here?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair nervously, "no, her daughter needed her at home…"

"Oh… Do you need me to arrange the tray?"

"No, no. I sent her away, I can cover meals for today. I will have that tray ready for you in 5 minutes, is that okay?"

"… you're going to make her breakfast?"

He sighs at her disbelief. "Yes, however if you could manage to not mention that particular fact, I would be grateful. I'm sure she'd turn it down if she knew."

The ladies maid gives an amused smirk and nods, "I'll be back for it shortly."

She curtsies and disappears while Steve looks around and gathers supplies.

—

Lorraine walks back into her bedroom carrying her breakfast tray. She smiles at the little flower that's in a small crystal vase in the corner.

"Ms. Nancy is very sweet." She comments, running a finger over the soft petals. She looks up to see Lorraine pursing her lips in amusement. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, sorry ma'am."

Peggy prepares her tea and takes a bite of her eggs. She pauses. They're seasoned differently, but deliciously so. She sips her tea and sighs at its warmth and flavor. Perfectly steeped.

She can hear amusement in her ladies maid's tone as she speaks, "is your breakfast to your liking, ma'am? You seem pleased."

She huffs a laugh, "yes, it's quite excellent this morning. I'll have to ask Ms. Nancy what she did differently."

Lorraine doesn't respond, just nods her head and stokes her fire. It had been getting quite chilly as true winter approached.

"Any particular outfit you would like me to have prepared for you, ma'am?"

"No, just my house clothes. I think it's too cold to go out today, I think."

"Very. good, ma'am."

—-

Mr. Coulson comes back looking worried.

"What is it?" Steve asks, as the man climbs down from the carriage driver's seat.

"The daughter is not doing well, I worry for her and the child."

Concern emanates from the usually collected Mr. Coulson and it makes Steve on edge.

"Go get Erskine, ask him to go see her, will you? And then stay there, they need you more than we do here, is that okay?"

Mr. Coulson smiles kindly at him, "your reputation precedes you, you know."

Steve ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck, "come back and alert us if there's anything we can do, if not, stay there in case they need you, okay?"

"Understood, sir." With that, Mr. Coulson remounts and is gone.

—-

Peggy walks down to the dining room for lunch after having spent the morning reading in her room. She eyes the metal chafing dishes and furrows her brow. "What is this?"

Lorraine, who is standing in the corner, smiles at her and points out each dish. "These are local fair, ma'am. This is a sweet potato casserole, buttered green beans with sautéed mushrooms and onions, a smoked meatloaf and fresh butter rolls."

"My," Peggy comments, staring at the delicious looking food in front of her, "Ms. Nancy is really topping herself today, isn't she?" Lorraine is wearing that same amused smirk from earlier. "Something amusing?"

"No, ma'am."

Peggy serves herself, enjoying the meal immensely and heading towards the library to continue her study of the marriage book.

—-

It's too cold to go anywhere on foot today, and with the carriage gone, Steve is relegated to staying inside. Not that he could leave, he wants to ensure Peggy is taken care of while Ms. Nancy is away.

Lorraine had returned from the kitchen with an eyebrow raised and Steve had felt nerves, "'was it okay? Did she enjoy it?"

The small nod from Lorraine had made him sigh in relief. He had hoped she'd enjoy the meal of local favorites.

"She's requesting tea in the library, is that okay, sir?"

"Of course, I'll have it ready for you in a few minutes."

"Very good, sir."

—-

Peggy sips her delectable tea and huffs in annoyance at the lack of mention of the marriage Angie had told her about. Not even a footnote. Not that she had expected them to incorporate a failure, but it would have been nice to have some confirmation that the torture of the man she was married to was actually accomplishing a goal.

She sighs. In November, there had been a village feast and she'd been wandering the booths, enjoying the ambiance and music when she'd felt herself tugged into a quiet alley.

Furious green eyes and bright red-hair had tipped her off to who her 'assailant' was.

"Can I help you, Ms. Romanoff?"

"I know you think you're so high and mighty. Better than anyone here, but you're not. You think you're accomplishing anything by treating Steve this way?"

Peggy had bristled, not enjoying the vehemence in the woman's tone, "how Steven" she said in a mocking tone, "and I interact, is in fact, none of your business."

"It is my business." The woman had insisted, pointing a finger at her, "he's been a brother to me since we were young, and—-" she huffs and her shoulders sag, gesturing back out to the middle of the street where the fair was going on, "you know what he said to me? When I asked him why he was allowing you to treat him so poorly?" Peggy had felt her throat constrict, she'd been aware that her behavior was well-known, that was the purpose, the point, but she's not heartless, even as she tried to be. "He said, 'Tasha, she's unhappy. She's handling it her way, I can't begrudge her that.'" The woman scoffs face, furious, "that man is worth more than ten of you. And he thinks you should be allowed to treat him like a dog? Do you even know him at all?"

Peggy had stabbed a finger at Natasha, "no! I don't, and I have no desire to! I'm a political pawn in this sham of a marriage in a long line of false unifications! I have no desire to play into their games."

Natasha had glared at her, "Oh. You're a political pawn? And what is Steve? A willing participant?"

"He's an obstacle."

The shock in the woman's face had made Peggy stiffen.

"James said you were heartless. I didn't believe him. I thought we could speak, woman to woman and I could try to see your side, or… understand how you could treat the nicest man in this entire village the way that you do. But maybe he was right. You are heartless. You don't deserve him." She turned to leave.

"I don't want him." Peggy had snapped back, now fully riled and on the defensive.

The woman looked back and pinned Peggy with her glare. "Did you even try to be friends with him? Or do you plan to be miserable your entire life? Maybe you don't care about him. But what about you? Since that seems to be the only thing you care about. You want the entire village to hate you in the place you're forced to live for the rest of your life?"

Peggy pursed her lips. Unwilling to admit that she has no plans to remain here for long.

Natasha's head had tilted in response to her silence. "You could stab him in the heart and he would ask you if you were okay. Remember that the next time you comment on his height or what your opinions are on his substance. He may be endlessly patient. But the village isn't."

Natasha had disappeared and left Peggy standing there, glued to the spot.

Since that night a few weeks ago, she had avoided Steve as much as possible. They were like ghosts in the night.

Except when she would hear Steven in distress.

After that first night when she'd caught him on the stairs, she's noticed a few other times. She saw him leaning heavily on the banister once, eyes tight and breath rapid.

Another time she had seen him from her window, crouched out in the yard on his haunches, arms pulled tightly against him.

Another time had him sitting on the steps unable to move.

Each time she had avoided detection, he was too occupied in his pain to notice her, but she'd kept note, noting the rise in frequency. It scared her. Something so consistent, and Steven so long-suffering, not saying a word to anyone about it.

Lorraine walks in, checking if she needs anything else, and a suspicion rises in Peggy's mind.

"Lorraine?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Have you… or any of the other house staff caught Mr. Rogers in distress?"

There's a silence and Peggy looks up to see her looking at the floor unsure.

"Lorraine?"

"He's asked us not to mention it ma'am."

So it was even more frequent than Peggy knew.

"Has he mentioned the cause?"

"No, ma'am."

"Has he seen a doctor?"

"I do not know, ma'am."

"Okay. Thank you. Please don't tell him I asked."

"Yes, ma'am, will that be all?"

"That's all."

And a horrible and terrible thought crosses Peggy's mind. If he died… Wouldn't she be free?

—-

Steve cleans up after dinner. Another successful meal according to Ms. Davies. Neither Coulson or Ms. Nancy has returned and with Thompson on his day off, the house is unusually quiet. He puts the dirty towels into the washroom and sighs.

He should stoke the kitchen hearth to ensure it's ready for tomorrow.

The wood sits by the door and he places a few in the dying embers, when his changing limb length gets him in trouble. Longer arms scrape against the hot metal grate above his hands and he hisses, yanking his hand back, burning the tips of his fingers in the process.

He stares at the ugly burn that's already developing. He walks to the sink and runs cool water over it for a few minutes. Reveling in the running water. Most people in the village still used pumps, but Howard had installed tanks and pipes and things Steve didn't understand.

After a few minutes, he shuts the water off and walks towards the stairs. He feels slightly off kilter. His hand tingles and feels unusual for a burn. He hurries up the stairs and enters his room. He enters the bathroom and runs more cold water over the red burn on his hand.

His head shoots up in surprise at the clash of lighting that streaks through the window. He watches as rain begins to pour down the window panes.

He hopes Mr. Coulson and Ms. Nancy aren't on their way home. The wind picks up and he feels a strange sensation in his chest. He stumbles back to his bed and barely removes his house shoes before tumbling onto it.

—-

Peggy settles into her bed, the storm making terrible clashes and booms as the thunder and lightning fight for dominance. Lorraine had made up her fire larger than usual to keep out the chill.

She reads by candlelight and feels herself getting drowsy when a distant thump sounds. She waits, thinking it might have been from the storm outside.

When she doesn't hear it again, she settles back in.

—-

Peggy's startled awake by a scream.

She stumbles out of bed, stuffing her feet into her slippers and grabbing her thick robe. She opens her door and rushes out, and hurries towards where she thought she heard the noise.

She turns the corner and freezes. Lorraine kneels there, candle in one hand and shaking the unconscious body of Steven with the other.

"Lorraine?" Peggy asks, "what's going on?"

The woman looks up, clearly terrified, "I was coming down to get more firewood and found him like this, startling me half to death! He won't answer!"

Peggy rushes forward, kneeling beside the man and looking at him. He's breathing and she can feel a pulse in his neck, but he's blazing hot, sweat beading off his forehead and skin. His eyes are closed but she can see that he passed out in pain from the way they're held.

"Get Mr. Coulson." Peggy says sternly. "Have him fetch the doctor."

There's a deafening silence and Peggy looks up at Lorraine whose eyes are widening in fear. "Did you hear me? Fetch Mr. Coulson."

"He's not here, ma'am." Lorraine whispers, "he took Ms. Nancy this morning to her daughter who's in labor."

Peggy's mouth parts, "but…" she looks up at Lorraine and her brow furrows, "but.."

Lorraine breathes shakily, looking at the man on the floor, "he asked me not to tell you that it was him. He sent Ms. Nancy away to her daughter, so he informed me he would cover meals since he caused the inconvenience."

Not enough air was entering her lungs. "You're saying that Thompson is on his day off, Mr. Coulson and Ms. Nancy are absent and it's just you and me here?"

A whisper quiet voice responds, "yes ma'am."

"Bloody hell." Peggy snarls, and she looks down, at the face she's attempted to despise for months. And the horrible thought crosses her mind. If he died…

Lorraine looks at her, terror on her face, "what are we to do, ma'am?"

A long minute transpires while Peggy fights within herself. And as she stares down at the man she has treated so horribly for the past several months, Natasha's words echo on her mind.

You could stab him in the heart and he would still ask if you were okay.

Well, she'd been stabbing him in the heart for months and he still had fed her three meals without making a peep. And suddenly the little flower that was on the tray this morning makes her heart drop. He…

She looks up at Lorraine and suddenly realizes who she is.

And it isn't who she's been.

"Help me lift him. We'll get him to my tub. It's bigger and we need to get his fever down."

She stands, grasping under his arms and waiting for Lorraine to grab his feet. He's heavy, but not unbearably so, and they make it without too much trouble. They slide his body into the porcelain basin and Peggy turns on the cold water.

"Fetch me towels." She orders Lorraine, "and… I think there's turmeric powder in the pantry in the kitchen. Boil water and add some to that. Hopefully to help with whatever inflammation is causing this fever."

The woman nods and is gone. Peggy kneels beside the bathtub and watches as the water rises, swallowing his legs and starting towards his chest.

She startles as he blinks awake. His gaze is blurry and not focused.

"Steven?" She says softly, "Steven, can you hear me?"

His eyes find hers, and his lips move. "What?" She asks, unable to hear him.

His mouth moves again and she guesses, "How? Lorraine helped me lift you into the tub."

He shakes his head, looking miserable and curling in on himself, "Get." He gasps out, eyes pinched in pain. "How—" he gasps, before slumping back and losing consciousness.

"Steven!" She cries, shaking his shoulders, "Steven, wake up!"

Lorraine returns and they attempt to quell his fever, but if anything, he seems to get hotter.

"Drain the tub." Peggy scowls, "it's tepid. His body temperature is warming it too quickly."

Lorraine pulls the drain and Peggy stares, she sighs and makes up her mind. "Help me get him out of his clothes." Peggy orders. The look of surprise crosses Lorraine's face and Peggy scoffs, "we can leave him in his undershorts, but I need his skin to have better contact with the water. After he's out of his clothes, go to the icebox and use the chipper. Take off a few chunks and bring them up here."

Peggy's fingers hesitantly reach towards the buttons on Steve's shirt, but the heat of his skin spurs her on. They needed to work quickly if they were going to help him. She unbuttons and yanks the shirt out of the hem of his pants, Lorraine helping as she tilts him forward so they can peel his arms out of the sleeves.

A gasp has Peggy looking at Lorraine. But Lorraine isn't looking at her, she's staring at Steve's torso.

A gasp leaves Peggy's own lips at the sight. "Bloody Nora." She curses.

Huge scars litter Steve's chest. One thick and knotted down the middle of his chest over his heart. Two small and thin lines over his kidneys. And worst of all, two huge mirroring scars on his sides, swooping from the front of his chest at the bottom of his ribs, all the way around to his shoulder blades.

"Oh my…" Lorraine says, "I—"

"What is this from?!" Peggy asks, in absolute disbelief at the macabre sight, "how did he get these?" But the woman doesn't answer, just stares in shock. "Lorraine, the ice, NOW."

The woman nods, disappearing out the door.

Peggy tries not to stare at the scars as her fingers undo the suspenders from Steve's trousers. She ignores her shaking fingers as she unbuckles them and begins to work the trousers down his legs. She's unsurprised but still taken aback at the thick scars that line the insides of his thighs and down his calves. She leaves his thin cotton shorts on, and starts to refill the tub with as cold of water as the plumbing can manage.

"Don't you die on me." She says firmly, now angry at herself. "I'm going to need you to wake up, so I can yell at you for letting me treat you this way."

She holds his hand as the tub fills, occasionally feeling his forehead to see if there's been a change. Lorraine reappears with thick chunks of ice and they drop them into the water. She watches as Steve shivers, but his temperature is still too high.

She brushes the sweaty hair back from his face and keeps her cool hand on his forehead. "It's going to be alright." She says, "you're going to be alright."

She notices the burn on his hand. "When did he get that?" She asks Lorraine, who looks at the burn.

"I've never seen it before..."

Peggy studies it and lifts the hand out of the water. "It looks… old?"

Lorraine looks at it again and nods, "it does look like it's been healing, but he handed me your tea tray this afternoon, I would have noticed it."

Peggy sets his hand back into the freezing water and glances at the storm still raging outside. "What an unfortunate series of events." She grouses, her knees protesting from kneeling so long. "What time is Thompson supposed to return?"

"His shift restarts tomorrow. He is supposed to be here to help Mr. Rogers get dressed."

A bolt of lightning and a clash of thunder have both women jumping. "Blast this storm." Peggy hisses. "Who is the nearest doctor?"

Lorraine sits back wiping her forehead with her forearm, "Dr. Erskine is our village healer, but he's on the other side of the village. Mrs. Rogers isn't quite as far, but in this weather at this time of night? It would take forever, and probably get yourself sick in the process."

"Mrs. Rogers as in…" Peggy nods towards Steven and Lorraine nods, continuing.

"But both horses are with Mr. Coulson."

Peggy curses again and watches as the ice melts in the water. She feels Steve's forehead and it's still just as hot, but at least he isn't getting hotter.

"Keep up a steady stream of ice." She says, keeping her eyes on Steve.

"The food will spoil."

And the ridiculousness of that statement has Peggy snorting, "if Mr. Rogers dies, I think the food spoiling will be the least of our issues, don't you agree?" She looks up at the woman and knows that the tense situation and exhaustion is interfering with both of their processes of thought.

"Of course, ma'am, my apologies."

"Don't apologize. Just get more ice."

"Yes, ma'am."

And with that she's gone.

—-

They follow that routine, draining the tub of tepid water and refilling it, adding ice when necessary and keeping a cool cloth on his forehead. The storm abates after a few hours and Peggy breathes a sigh of relief as his forehead finally feels a dash cooler.

She has Lorraine make some tea and they sit, watchful of their patient throughout the night.

—

Steve shivers, he blinks and his brain tries to process what's happening. Water envelopes him, cold water and he feels his lungs try to take in a shaky breath. He gently pushes himself into a seated position and looks around.

He freezes. Margaret and Ms. Davies, sit on each side of the tub, Ms. Davies leans against the wall, asleep and with a towel resting in her lap.

Margaret's arm rests on the edge of the tub, her head resting in the crook of her elbow. He looks down and finds himself mostly undressed, just his shorts. He winces at the realization that they would have seen his scars.

He's about to shake Margaret awake when his eyes catch sight of his hand. And the fresh skin that resides there. No burn, or sign of a burn at all.

He flexes his hands, and stretches his back, feeling strange in his own skin.

He looks around and notices his shirt on the ground. He quietly reaches for it and grimaces as he slides the cold damp garment over his skin. He manages to get it buttoned halfway before his movements rouse Margaret.

She looks up, eyes bleary with exhaustion, "Steven?" She mumbles.

"Yes, I'm.. I'm awake now, sorry about all this." He feels a sense of dread. What had happened? Would she be furious at him for causing so much trouble?

She rubs at her eyes and seems to fully wake up, "Steven!" She reaches forward and places a hand on his forehead, surprising him. "You're fever's gone! Lorraine!"

The other woman stirs and Peggy is standing, gathering the towels, "can you grab some fresh towels? And maybe a fresh set of clothes?"

Steve shivers and avoids their eyes as he speaks, "I'm so sorry. There's no need, if you hand me one of those towels I can make it to my room."

Both women are silent and he looks up at them, waiting for Margaret to say something about his inability to take care of himself.

"Lorraine, fresh clothes and towels please."

"Yes, ma'am."

She's gone before Steve can blink and he watches in trepidation as Peggy sits on the edge of the tub.

"You really gave us a fright. What do you remember?"

Steve shifts, still sitting in the cold water. "I… I felt very ill, I tried to make it to the medicine cabinet in the hallway but… I don't think I did."

"You indeed did not. Lorraine stumbled over your body in the middle of the night. She screamed and it woke me up."

Steve feels his ears burn, "sorry. I didn't want to cause a disturbance."

"Do you remember waking up in the tub?"

"No… did I?"

"Uh-hmm, and you told me to 'get' something, but I couldn't understand."

Steve ponders for a moment then a fuzzy recollection of him asking her to get Howard. "Sorry." He says again, "I'm sure it was quite the chore if you were up all night."

And when he looks up, there's an impossibly sad look on Margaret's face. "Steven." She starts, looking out the windows at the softly falling snow. "I know…" she huffs and stands up, pulling at her robe and avoiding his eyes. "I haven't—" she gets cut off as Lorraine walks back in.

They leave him to dry off and get changed.

—-

He sleeps for most of the day, his body tired and mind even more exhausted. Ms. Nancy returns at some point during his slumber and he finds a tray of food on his bedside table when he wakes that evening.

He bathes and gets dressed again, exiting his room. He feels awkward, unsure of how to behave after last night. He makes his way to the kitchens and finds Ms. Nancy prepping for supper.

"Is your daughter alright?" He asks, quietly, trying not to startle her.

She turns and a bright smile crosses her face, "she and the baby are well, that Dr. Erskine was a miracle worker when the baby was breech. Thank you for your kindness sir, I can never repay it."

"I'm glad everything turned out alright." He answers softly, "thank you for the tray of food."

"The least I could do, are you hungry now?"

"No, just… I was thinking of having some coffee… But that would probably be unwise this late into the evening?"

"Well, you've slept a good portion of the day, how are you feeling now?"

"I feel normal," he admits, "not sure what happened."

"It could have been a small stint, but I'm glad you're feeling better. Mr. Coulson asked if he should fetch your mother, but I told him to wait for you to decide. Would you like me to have him call on her?"

"No, no." Steve says quickly, "No, she'd only worry and I'm…" he looks down and again feels the strange sensation of not fitting in his own skin, "I'm… alright."

"Yes, sir. Let me know if I can get you anything, alright?"

"Thank you." He leaves and wanders towards the stairs. He pauses on the landing, wondering if Margaret was awake… He swallows thickly and thinks of her taking care of him through the night. A stark contrast to the last few months. He feels guilty and trepidation of what she might say or use against him now.

But he can't shake the feeling of wanting to thank her. She'd done something she didn't have to do.

And that look in her eyes before they'd been interrupted.

He walks up the stairs and sees Lorraine, "is Ms. Carter around?" He asks, feeling anxious.

"She's asleep, sir. Would you like me to wake her?"

"No, no. That's alright. Thank you." She starts to leave and he reaches out, catching her attention again, "and thank you. For helping last night, my sincere apologies about the disturbance and extra work you had to do."

The woman eyes him, and a hint of amusement crosses her lips, "it's alright, sir. I didn't mind."

And then she's gone, leaving him feeling… exposed.