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It was like an old scar was being ripped from him; a bandage that had been glued; it was like having to realize she’d died again, all over, and it was relayed. Everything was relayed in his head, every word they’d said, every smile, and every look. It was hell, but Steve couldn’t stop, because they were all to him. Every letter, in her old-fashioned script, lacy and loopy and the exact opposite of how Steve thought she’d write.
Reading them made him cry and he’d admit it a thousand times over, because there was no shame in mourning. After reading the letters, though, it felt like he was mourning all wrong. The moment he wished for her to be alive again was the moment he realized it had come too far, because she had lived her own life. And he, he realized, was living his own, too.
**********
Dear Steve,
I feel like I ought to be angry at you for standing me up, but I can’t hold it in me.
If you ever do it after you come back, though, you’ll have some heinous explaining to do. A lot of men asked me to dance, and it was very clear to me that they weren’t waiting for the right partner, and they just wanted their grimy mitts on a lady as soon as possible.
I’ll have you know I didn’t hit one of them, and if that’s not damned impressive, I’m not sure what is.
Regards, Peggy Carter
PS: Should you ever find these, I hope I’m long dead before you read them. It’s in my weakest point that I resort to this, but it can’t be helped, can it? I’m taking it better than Howard, I think. He hasn’t slept at all and he’s still looking for you.
We’re all looking, Steve.
****
Dear Steve,
Today, Howard said he found something, but it wasn’t what he was looking for (read as: it wasn’t you).
I asked if I could go with him next time, and he said sure, and that maybe I’d be a good luck charm. I sure hope so, but the luckiest thing that ever happened to me—besides getting where I am—was meeting you. That sounds sappy because, in truth, it is.
Regards, Peggy Carter
****
Dear Steve,
It’s been a few weeks, but I decided I didn’t want to date these letters. I don’t want to have to think of a day and remember the things I thought, and I don’t want you to, either, should you read this. I have this weird inkling that maybe you will read them someday. I hope that, even in the weakest points of them, you won’t think less of me. You’re a bastard if you do, Steve.
Howard took me with him on his “expedition”, and I wasn’t lucky, evidently. It was quite boring and cold, even with Howard’s tall tales echoing at every turn. I don’t understand how he does it, to be honest, but then I think of you and I understand completely.
Regards, Peggy Carter
****
Dear Steve,
It’s been a bit again. Howard met a lovely “dame”, as you’d call her. Her name is Maria and she reminds me of a doe; she’s soft-spoken and warm, and she reminds me of you in every way she shouldn’t. She’s kind, but I’m not so sure she’s Howard’s type.
But what do I know, right? I shouldn’t say anything, and I won’t, I suppose. There’s just a feeling in the pit of my stomach that Howard was meant for someone a bit more brash, and her meant for someone like a doctor. I’ll just keep my lips tight, though. Howard would have a cow if he found out I thought such things, and he’d probably dump her, too.
I don’t want him to be unhappy, especially when he’s been feeling so well.
Regards, Peggy Carter
PS: She also has no problem with his expeditions, which are growing to be more frequent as of late. I feel like that’s part of the reason he finds her so entrancing: she’s not willing to tell him that he’s wasting time.
****
Dear Steve,
I didn’t mean, in that last letter, that looking for you was a waste of time.
I just think he’s looking in the wrong places, he’s straying too far, and stretching himself too thin. We all want to find you, but I fear that sometimes, Howard takes it too far.
I have to remind him to eat and it’s expensive to call from England, you know. I’ve moved back—well, the army’s moved me back, you could say. It’s nice here, but I could use some America.
By that, I mean Captain America. I miss you, Steve.
Regards, Peggy Carter
****
Dear Steve,
Howard and Maria are going to be wed.
I told him I was relieved he had found someone who would put up with him, and we shared a laugh, and it seemed very normal. He’s a good friend, Steve, and I wish we all could’ve gone out for drinks. Or something. Fondue, if you’d like to try that.
And I mean the bread and cheese, Steve.
Regards, Peggy Carter
****
Dear Steve,
I worry about you, sometimes.
I don’t think Howard’s going to find you. But I hope someone in the future does, and that then, you’ll be alive again.
It sounds improbable but that this point, it sounds great. I want you to get the chances you deserved.
Correction, the chances you deserve, to fully love someone, to love friends and family, to do things with them. You deserve it all, Steve, really.
Regards, Peggy Carter
****
Dear Steve,
I’ve found the right dancing partner, I think.
His name is James, and he is nothing like James—Bucky, I mean, Bucky Barnes, I’ll have you know.
He’s not much like you either, but I’m relieved in knowing that I love him for who he is, and not because he is a replacement. No one could replace you Steve, no one.
I miss you, still.
****
Dear Steve,
Howard and Maria had a child, and they named him Anthony Edward Stark.
He’s going to go places, that boy. He’s quite a genius, even at his age.
I bet you’d be great with him. He quite likes his Captain America action figure, and it’s nice to have someone new to tell the stories to.
Regards, Peggy Carter
PS: James says hello.
****
Dear Steve,
James has asked me to marry him.
I’m saving a seat for you at the wedding, in case you make it.
I’ll save a dance for you, too. To “A Star-Spangled Man with a Plan”, how about?
Regards, Peggy Carter
****
Dear Steve,
I’m worried about Howard and Maria’s relationship.
Perhaps even more so, I’m worried about Anthony—Tony. Something is different with Howard, something’s off.
I can’t visit them as often as I’d like, as I’m in London now, as you know. By the by, the wedding was wonderful, and I ended up saving a seat for Bucky, too. There were a lot of pretty ladies I’m sure he would’ve liked to dance with. Or, more so, more pretty ladies that would’ve liked to dance with him. I think I pegged him wrong.
Regards, Peggy Carter-Jones
PS: I hope you don’t mind, but since you couldn’t make it, I danced with Tony to “A Star-Spangled Man with a Plan”. He’s getting bigger, and I’ll bet he’s going to be a spitting image of Howard.
****
Dear Steve,
It’s been many years since I’ve written you a letter, apologies. I was faring well and fine, as was James. As is James, I should say?
Howard and Maria were in an accident and have passed away, and I don’t know how to voice my regrets to you. It was a car accident, during the thickness of night. I guess these things happen to everyone, and they can’t be helped. The grief that has washed over me is all too similar to the grief I felt for you, and I hate how it is like it. I hate how it has come back to haunt me. Howard was going downhill, though, and I find it nearly as sad as his death, and I even perhaps blame it for their deaths.
It’s sad, I think, that Howard still looked for you and not his son. He never stopped, Steve, not even for his family. I know you would’ve hated that, that he was neglecting his only son for you, for your ghost. His son is still keeping up the efforts, though. I’m fairly sure he still has his action figure.
I’m worried about the boy, but he’s smart, he’ll fare just fine. He’s got big shoes to fill.
Wish you could’ve seen him grow up like I have, that kid. He’s already in the papers, even in London. He’s a firecracker, I tell you, all at seventeen.
Regards, Peggy Carter-Jones
****
Dear Steve Rogers, Captain America, Dear Steve:
This is the last letter I’m going to write you. I love you, Steve, but not in the way I used to, but I love you. Always will.
I wish they could’ve found you in my time, I wish we could’ve shook hands and laughed and hugged. I wish for a thousand things all at once, yet, at the same time, I can’t wish for things to be different. I’ve built my own life, now.
I know they’ll find you, though. I know it. Like Erskine found you, like I found you, you’ll be found, because you’re meant to be found, you are, Steve. I trust, when you wake, that you’ll still put your strength to good use. If Tony’s still alive, though, be sure to tell him I said hello and that Howard loved him, honestly and wholly.
We all love you, Captain America, Steve, we do. Promise me, that if you read these, you’ll think of me and the good life I’ve lived. You made it better, Steve, in the short time I knew you. I’ll see you again someday, but I hope it’s not for a long, long time.
Stay good, have a good life, find someone you love. Be true to yourself, to your honor, to your morals. Be everything you always have been, Captain.
With all the love I can muster, I say goodbye. Live well for me, Steve.
I love you, and regards, Peggy Carter-Jones (&And James, and Tony, and Howard and Maria, and everyone.)
***********
When he finished the last letter, he was crying, and not soft tears; they were rough, hollow sobs, because a wound he had tried so hard to hide had been torn open. It was like tiger claws had torn open his chest, and it was trying to heal but constantly, constantly being ripped and nipped at.
It took him a long, long time for him to regain his composure.
Later, he went to find Tony, letters neatly folded in his hand, and tied with a ribbon. “Tony,” He said, keeping his voice small, “I think, maybe, you’d want to read some of these. They’re from Peggy. Peggy Carter?”
Tony froze at that and nodded at Steve wordlessly, and he took them gently. “Wow, uh, thanks.”
“S.H.I.E.L.D. gave them to me, and she mentioned you a few times.” Steve awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets and then did a small nod of goodbye.
He got a text from Tony a few hours later, and it was a picture of Tony smiling, holding up a Captain America action figure. The text read: and i still have it, mint condition (almost). they didnt get your hair right tho, i mean look at it its bleach blond and your shield is really not shiny
Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that, and he shot back a text that read: do I really have fourteen abs like that?
i could count them for you if you wanted that’s what teammates are for right
Uh???/
i’m kidding it’s ok man. but really we should go out for lunch or something and i can compare the stories peg told me about you and see what really went on
That sounds great, Tony
ok tomorrow 1:30 i’ll pick you up and i’ll bring the action figure too (the abs offer is still open btw)