“His Part to Play” - 1. Lost Time
Mar. 16th, 2020 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Forever Captain:
“His Part to Play”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “Steve Rogers has retired to the 1940s to build a new life with Peggy. In leaving behind the mantle of Captain America, at last he’s got a measure of peace. Still, Steve will never stop feeling the responsibility to step up as a hero— except he's not sure how much power his actions have at this point in the timeline. Somehow he must reconcile his new life and identity with the responsibility and burden of being a hero out of time.”
Chapter summary: Steve and Peggy's first days reunited in the midcentury post-Endgame.
“His Part to Play”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “Steve Rogers has retired to the 1940s to build a new life with Peggy. In leaving behind the mantle of Captain America, at last he’s got a measure of peace. Still, Steve will never stop feeling the responsibility to step up as a hero— except he's not sure how much power his actions have at this point in the timeline. Somehow he must reconcile his new life and identity with the responsibility and burden of being a hero out of time.”
Chapter summary: Steve and Peggy's first days reunited in the midcentury post-Endgame.
~~~
1. Lost Time
For Steve’s first days in 1947, there was nothing in the world but Peggy.
He hadn’t meant to throw himself in so quickly. He had been dreaming of her, yes, returning to this time in hopes of being with her again. But enough time had gone by to make him measure that hope. To her it was a full two years after he’d gone down with the HYDRA ship. Long enough that the search for him would have tapered off— and that if Peggy no longer wanted to be with him, the choice would be her own. He was a changed man from the one she remembered, and he knew from his own timeline that she’d led a full life without him. Perhaps the new Steve wouldn’t be what she wanted; perhaps she was content with the path she was already on.
But then she’d run to him. Once she was certain who he was, she ran and clung to him as if she could hold him against ever losing him again. And the touch and taste of her, her lips warm and wanting against his, drove out all reason and all fear.
Even in his wildest hopes, he’d meant to take things slow. They had to get to know one another again, to be certain it was all they remembered. But just seeing her again, to speak and touch and simply be with her in a way he thought he’d lost, was enough to break down the dam of his reserve. And once that dam was broken, longing a decade in the build burst forth, and they fell together into Peggy’s narrow bed, and spent days lost in one another’s arms.
They had to be careful, of course. Men were not allowed as visitors in her boarding house— certainly not like this —and they didn’t want anyone to hear them through the walls. But they clung to one another as if drowning, drank each other in as if dying of thirst. Her body was at once soft and strong, full for the holding yet so small against his. He might have been tentative, overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of it, that he was finally there with her. But Peggy took unrelenting charge of him, till it was all he could do to follow her lead and keep up.
There was so much lost time to make up for. There had been only the once before for them, in the French countryside out on maneuvers during the war. It had been quick and artless, in a rare stolen moment away from the eyes of the others, when the strain saw all their reserve break down. He been as unsure of himself as deeply as he craved it, afraid even then that it was too far. He had not even dared then tell her that he loved her. But it had been his first time, and it had been with Peggy.
He’d clung to the memory of it, even when it might have been wiser to try and lock it away. By now it was like something of a dream, distant uncertain as if it never really happened. And when they met again in the twenty-first century, they hardly touched at all; it had seemed improper, somehow, and she had been so fragile he’d almost been afraid. But now, now there were no barriers between them, not time, not space, not age, not propriety, so that when he reached for her she was so resolutely there, warm and real beneath his fingertips, that it he shivered in the wake of it. He could not have her enough.
They talked too, of course, in the between times, hours upon hours they could hardly keep track of. They lay together twined in each other’s arms, and all the things they could not say in their years of separation poured out. Steve told her his story, everything, from how he’d survived the ice to his discovery sixty-six years later, to serving with the Avengers through the Chitauri, Ultron, a breaking of the team, to their reunification in the shadow of Thanos, and everything they’d done for the fate of the world. It was so much, so crazy, he could hardly keep it all straight. But he spared no detail, no matter how insane. Infinity gems, time travel, multiverses, the balance of reality, everything. If he wanted Peggy to know him, it would have to be the man he was now, and she would have to know what had made him that man.
She listened intently, mostly in silence. At first he thought he’d overwhelmed her, with the sheer enormity of the story he had to tell. But in truth she was torn, very naturally between an intense fascination of the strangeness of it, and a trepidation of knowing too much about things most would never have a chance to know. Because it was unavoidable, in that telling her his story, he told her about the world to come.
Not with much rhyme or reason, and certainly not everything— how could he? —but when the subject arose, he had to be honest— how could he not? For Peggy only two years had gone by, but for Steve there had been thirteen and nearly a century of history; that time had changed him, more even than the course of the war. So there were things that had to come up. The Cold War. The polio vaccine. The civil rights movement. The Internet. How much changed, and how much stayed the same.
“Still? Also those decades later?” she said, surprised at, in some ways, just how little progress had been made. “I suppose people truly do never learn.”
But to Steve that didn’t seem quite fair. “They’re… kinder, in a lot of ways,” he mused. “They know more, and they care. About the world, about other people. Even those who aren’t like them. But they’re also more tired. Everything is faster, and louder, and busier, and honestly, to me the demands seemed… higher. Of everything, all the time. And lots of them get worn down by it, to the point of sickness— body, mind, and soul. In a way, they don’t have it any easier.”
He wanted her to know him again, but it was more than just that. He had to explain to her how he’d come back, only two years later to her reckoning but with a decade-plus more wear. In truth this was the part that he was most afraid of. Not out of fear that she wouldn’t believe him, for all that the whole journey was insane. But what if, upon hearing his reasons for coming back— for laying down the mantle of Captain America —she judged him a coward, or a deserter? The thought alone was enough to twist up his guts. But he’d resolved to tell her everything, no matter how difficult, and if this was to be his life, she had to understand it.
So he told her how weary he was, how the role had emptied him out, how he wanted to live a life beyond it. He struggled to meet her gaze as he spoke, bracing himself for her reaction. She, after all, was still out there, still fighting. But Peggy had no recriminations for him, no judgment. She only brushed back his tousled hair from his forehead with gentle strokes of her fingers.
“You don’t fault me for it?” he asked, daring to glance back up.
“You already died once for us, Steve. That’s enough for any one lifetime.” Her painted nails skated across his scalp. “And… this is where you want to be now? Here again, with me?”
“If you’ll have me.” He paused, uncertain of how to proceed, but knew he had to try. “I know I’ve come out of nowhere,” he told her at last. “I know you’ve moved on with your life. I understand if… there isn’t a place for me.”
She eyed him. “Do you mean, is there someone else?”
He swallowed. He gathered there was a man for her around this time, possibly the man, the one she’d made a life with. “You know… you were married. In the other timeline.”
She lifted her head a little, brows raised.
He pressed on, at a loss what else to do. “You were together a long time. You had children. You made a life.”
He could see her grow pensive at the mention of children. “Did you know them?”
“Yes. A little.” He paused. “I could tell you about them, if you wanted.”
She was quiet a long time, long enough that Steve began casting about for something else to say. But before he could she pressed in close, twining her arms around him. “Steve. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no sense dwelling on what could have been. I have carried on— but I never wanted to do it without you. We’ve all got a road not taken. I thought you’d be mine… but perhaps, for this version of me, that’s Daniel.” She sighed, breath warm against his neck. “Daniel’s a good man. But he’s not you.”
The mention of the name confirmed it. The words, the way she said them, transported him back to 2012, when he’d first gathered his courage to visit her in the new century. When she’d shown him pictures of her family and explained the seventy years of life she’d built without him. “Daniel was a good man, and I loved him, but… he wasn’t you, Steve. Nobody could ever be you.”
Still. Steve had to be certain. “I can tell you, you know. What your life was like. I can tell you anything you want.”
She regarded him. “Why?”
He took her hand. “So you can be sure.”
Peggy smiled, twining her fingers in his. “Nothing is sure, Steve. But this…” She placed his hand against her and slid it to trace the curves. “This is worth the chance.”
Steve’s fingers closed around her and pulled her to him again.
~~~
Next chapter: 2. Building
1. Lost Time
For Steve’s first days in 1947, there was nothing in the world but Peggy.
He hadn’t meant to throw himself in so quickly. He had been dreaming of her, yes, returning to this time in hopes of being with her again. But enough time had gone by to make him measure that hope. To her it was a full two years after he’d gone down with the HYDRA ship. Long enough that the search for him would have tapered off— and that if Peggy no longer wanted to be with him, the choice would be her own. He was a changed man from the one she remembered, and he knew from his own timeline that she’d led a full life without him. Perhaps the new Steve wouldn’t be what she wanted; perhaps she was content with the path she was already on.
But then she’d run to him. Once she was certain who he was, she ran and clung to him as if she could hold him against ever losing him again. And the touch and taste of her, her lips warm and wanting against his, drove out all reason and all fear.
Even in his wildest hopes, he’d meant to take things slow. They had to get to know one another again, to be certain it was all they remembered. But just seeing her again, to speak and touch and simply be with her in a way he thought he’d lost, was enough to break down the dam of his reserve. And once that dam was broken, longing a decade in the build burst forth, and they fell together into Peggy’s narrow bed, and spent days lost in one another’s arms.
They had to be careful, of course. Men were not allowed as visitors in her boarding house— certainly not like this —and they didn’t want anyone to hear them through the walls. But they clung to one another as if drowning, drank each other in as if dying of thirst. Her body was at once soft and strong, full for the holding yet so small against his. He might have been tentative, overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of it, that he was finally there with her. But Peggy took unrelenting charge of him, till it was all he could do to follow her lead and keep up.
There was so much lost time to make up for. There had been only the once before for them, in the French countryside out on maneuvers during the war. It had been quick and artless, in a rare stolen moment away from the eyes of the others, when the strain saw all their reserve break down. He been as unsure of himself as deeply as he craved it, afraid even then that it was too far. He had not even dared then tell her that he loved her. But it had been his first time, and it had been with Peggy.
He’d clung to the memory of it, even when it might have been wiser to try and lock it away. By now it was like something of a dream, distant uncertain as if it never really happened. And when they met again in the twenty-first century, they hardly touched at all; it had seemed improper, somehow, and she had been so fragile he’d almost been afraid. But now, now there were no barriers between them, not time, not space, not age, not propriety, so that when he reached for her she was so resolutely there, warm and real beneath his fingertips, that it he shivered in the wake of it. He could not have her enough.
They talked too, of course, in the between times, hours upon hours they could hardly keep track of. They lay together twined in each other’s arms, and all the things they could not say in their years of separation poured out. Steve told her his story, everything, from how he’d survived the ice to his discovery sixty-six years later, to serving with the Avengers through the Chitauri, Ultron, a breaking of the team, to their reunification in the shadow of Thanos, and everything they’d done for the fate of the world. It was so much, so crazy, he could hardly keep it all straight. But he spared no detail, no matter how insane. Infinity gems, time travel, multiverses, the balance of reality, everything. If he wanted Peggy to know him, it would have to be the man he was now, and she would have to know what had made him that man.
She listened intently, mostly in silence. At first he thought he’d overwhelmed her, with the sheer enormity of the story he had to tell. But in truth she was torn, very naturally between an intense fascination of the strangeness of it, and a trepidation of knowing too much about things most would never have a chance to know. Because it was unavoidable, in that telling her his story, he told her about the world to come.
Not with much rhyme or reason, and certainly not everything— how could he? —but when the subject arose, he had to be honest— how could he not? For Peggy only two years had gone by, but for Steve there had been thirteen and nearly a century of history; that time had changed him, more even than the course of the war. So there were things that had to come up. The Cold War. The polio vaccine. The civil rights movement. The Internet. How much changed, and how much stayed the same.
“Still? Also those decades later?” she said, surprised at, in some ways, just how little progress had been made. “I suppose people truly do never learn.”
But to Steve that didn’t seem quite fair. “They’re… kinder, in a lot of ways,” he mused. “They know more, and they care. About the world, about other people. Even those who aren’t like them. But they’re also more tired. Everything is faster, and louder, and busier, and honestly, to me the demands seemed… higher. Of everything, all the time. And lots of them get worn down by it, to the point of sickness— body, mind, and soul. In a way, they don’t have it any easier.”
He wanted her to know him again, but it was more than just that. He had to explain to her how he’d come back, only two years later to her reckoning but with a decade-plus more wear. In truth this was the part that he was most afraid of. Not out of fear that she wouldn’t believe him, for all that the whole journey was insane. But what if, upon hearing his reasons for coming back— for laying down the mantle of Captain America —she judged him a coward, or a deserter? The thought alone was enough to twist up his guts. But he’d resolved to tell her everything, no matter how difficult, and if this was to be his life, she had to understand it.
So he told her how weary he was, how the role had emptied him out, how he wanted to live a life beyond it. He struggled to meet her gaze as he spoke, bracing himself for her reaction. She, after all, was still out there, still fighting. But Peggy had no recriminations for him, no judgment. She only brushed back his tousled hair from his forehead with gentle strokes of her fingers.
“You don’t fault me for it?” he asked, daring to glance back up.
“You already died once for us, Steve. That’s enough for any one lifetime.” Her painted nails skated across his scalp. “And… this is where you want to be now? Here again, with me?”
“If you’ll have me.” He paused, uncertain of how to proceed, but knew he had to try. “I know I’ve come out of nowhere,” he told her at last. “I know you’ve moved on with your life. I understand if… there isn’t a place for me.”
She eyed him. “Do you mean, is there someone else?”
He swallowed. He gathered there was a man for her around this time, possibly the man, the one she’d made a life with. “You know… you were married. In the other timeline.”
She lifted her head a little, brows raised.
He pressed on, at a loss what else to do. “You were together a long time. You had children. You made a life.”
He could see her grow pensive at the mention of children. “Did you know them?”
“Yes. A little.” He paused. “I could tell you about them, if you wanted.”
She was quiet a long time, long enough that Steve began casting about for something else to say. But before he could she pressed in close, twining her arms around him. “Steve. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s no sense dwelling on what could have been. I have carried on— but I never wanted to do it without you. We’ve all got a road not taken. I thought you’d be mine… but perhaps, for this version of me, that’s Daniel.” She sighed, breath warm against his neck. “Daniel’s a good man. But he’s not you.”
The mention of the name confirmed it. The words, the way she said them, transported him back to 2012, when he’d first gathered his courage to visit her in the new century. When she’d shown him pictures of her family and explained the seventy years of life she’d built without him. “Daniel was a good man, and I loved him, but… he wasn’t you, Steve. Nobody could ever be you.”
Still. Steve had to be certain. “I can tell you, you know. What your life was like. I can tell you anything you want.”
She regarded him. “Why?”
He took her hand. “So you can be sure.”
Peggy smiled, twining her fingers in his. “Nothing is sure, Steve. But this…” She placed his hand against her and slid it to trace the curves. “This is worth the chance.”
Steve’s fingers closed around her and pulled her to him again.
~~~
Next chapter: 2. Building
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