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A Twist In Fate

Chapter 2: Aftermath

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Bucky lay in his room, staring at the ceiling, not allowing himself to grieve anymore. He had gone to Peggy to honor Steve, and then dishonored him in such a personal way. How could he have slept with his best friend's girl on the night of his funeral? He stood up and pulled out another bottle of whiskey, drinking it like water and wondering why he still didn't feel drunk. What would he do tomorrow? How could he ever face Peggy again? Would she tell anyone about what had happened?

His logical mind told him that she was just as eager to keep this a secret as he was, but his paranoia told him to expect to have his sergeant's stripes ripped from his shoulders in the morning.

He drank the last few drops of whiskey and suddenly Steve's face flashed unbidden into his mind. "Take my hand!" He cried. Bucky wished he hadn't. He wished he'd let go, wished he'd fallen, wished he was dead.

The whiskey bottle shattered in his grip, glass shards falling around him and cutting into his palm. "Fuck!" he shouted, reaching to his bedside table and grabbing a shirt to wrap around his hand. With his other hand he picked up as many large pieces of glass as he could, then used his shoe to sweep the others into a pile. He then unwrapped his hand to find that the shirt was only a little bloody, and the glass had barely scraped through the first two layers of his skin. He shook his head and thanked whatever luck kept him from having to go to the medic and explain what had happened. After cleaning up the last of the glass he got back in bed and fell into a restless sleep, tormented by pictures of Steve falling and Peggy's tear-streaked face.

Peggy wasn't faring much better. The alcohol was wearing off and the knowledge of what she had done was slowly setting in, but so was a much more terrifying revelation. She'd had sex, with a subordinate, who happened to be her recently deceased boyfriend's best friend, on the night of his funeral… and she had enjoyed it. Even as guilty and horrible as she felt, she couldn't say for sure that she wouldn’t make the same choice if she had known. And still worse, she couldn't promise herself that it would never happen again. She already missed Bucky’s weight between her thighs.

But there were more practical concerns as well. If she was pregnant, her career in the SSR was over. She had always been so careful, so ambitious, fought so hard, and she'd thrown it away for what? A single night of unethical hedonism? She wrestled with her cognitive dissonance far into the night, and had come to no resolution by the time the sun began it's climb.

She sighed heavily as she took her robe off and began dressing, wincing at the unfamiliar soreness. She looked into the mirror at the dark circles under her eyes and wished for the small luxury of some makeup. The circles under her eyes were forgivable of course - she and Steve had been an open secret - but not so the hickey which danced threateningly at the edge of her shirt. She buttoned it one button higher that usual, hoping no one would notice. She smoothed down the front of her skirt and trying to ignore the way her desperate body keened at the feeling of friction against her bruised thighs, but as she smoothed it once again she neglected the wrinkles in favor of pressing the heel of her hand subtly against her pubic mound, sucking a sharp breath in between her teeth. Although she'd always had an appetite for the carnal, she'd managed it so well, only satisfying her cravings enough to keep the ravenous wolf at bay, but now that she'd given in once…

She ran her hands down her sides, fingers pressing into her ribcage and then dragging down to her thighs. She gave up pretending to straighten her clothes and turned towards the bed, bringing her fingers back up, this time traveling up the insides of her legs and pulling the skirt up with them before sitting on the edge. With one hand she cupped her breast, squeezing it through the cone-shaped bra and rough army blouse, and with the other she began circling the inside of her thigh. She slowly trailed upwards and had begun to toy with the top of her underwear when reveille sounded. She leapt to her feet and ran over to the mirror, straightening her clothes for real this time, before leaving the room to meet with Colonel Phillips and the remaining Howling Commandos.

When she reached the war room the men were already sitting around the table with Colonel Phillips standing at the head of it.

"Good morning, Carter," he said, a softer tone in his gruff voice, "C'mon in we were just getting started."

"Morning gentlemen," she nodded, as she slipped into the chair beside Dum Dum Dugan, careful to avoid Bucky's gaze from across the table.

Dum Dum elbowed her gently and mouthed, "You ok?"

She nodded and smiled gratefully at him, hoping she didn't look as miserable and hungover as she felt.

"Well here's the situation we're in." Col. Phillips said, "Captain America is dead, but Hydra has no way of knowing that. The question is this, do we tell the world that Hydra killed Captain America and hope that his status as a martyr will piss off enough American soldiers to make a difference, or try to convince the Krauts that he's still alive?"

"I say we tell the truth," Gabe said. "He was a beloved hero, and he inspired so many people in his life. His death will do the same. Besides, he deserves to be mourned."

"We can mourn him when the war is over and every damned Nazi is rotting in a grave," Peggy said hotly.

"She's right," Bucky added, "And you also gotta remember, people back home loved Captain America party because they thought he was invincible. They though he was... some kind of superhero or something. The chosen one who can put an end to that mustached son of a bitch once and for all. We can't let them know he was dead. Legends aren't allowed to die."

Peggy stole a little glance at him and noticed, to her fury, that he showed no damage from their tryst. He was every inch as put-together and handsome as always. Smug son of a bitch. How dare he sit there like that, calling Steve a legend, acting as if they hadn't desecrated his memory just hours ago?

"Well there's only so much leftover propo footage we can use," Col. Phillips said, "Sooner or later someone's gonna figure out Captain America isn't leaving the studio."

"So we replace him," Bucky said.

The entire table turned to him in shock.

"Look, I grew up with Steve. I know how he acts, know how he thinks. I have experience fighting with him, and even more military experience from before him. I may not be a superman, but that shield is bulletproof right? And I'm sure Stark could figure out a way for me to pull some stunts every now and then to keep up the legend."

"No way, Rogers was always the first target when we were out there. You wouldn't last a month!" Jim Morita said.

Dum Dum added, "We can't lose another brother."

"Please," Bucky begged, "He gave his life to save me. At least give me a chance to keep his legacy alive." He glanced at Peggy and noticed that she was looking down at the table in front of her. He knew he looked like shit, but she was so fucking beautiful, not a hair out of place, even after all they'd done the night before. She was clearly sad of course, but in an almost angelic, maternal way.

"Alright," Col. Phillips said with a sigh, "We'll give it a shot. Go to Stark, see what he can do for you in the way of fixing up the suit and making it look like you have powers. We'll work strategy harder than usual, use scare tactics and maneuvers to make sure you do as little close range fighting as possible. Stark made a backup suit and I think it'll fit you with a little altering."

With that Peggy stood up and choked out, "Excuse me gentlemen I'm... I'm not feeling well," before fleeing the room as gracefully as possible.

The men stared after her sympathetically, but didn't really know what to do.

"I'll go talk to her," Bucky volunteered.

He followed her down the hall and caught her by the elbow, "Peg," he began.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Peggy asked, tears flowing down her face.

"Honoring Steve."

"You'll be the target of every Hydra agent from here to Berlin, every waking moment of every day, coming at you from every direction with weapons we can't even comprehend. You can't possibly survive this."

"He died for me Peggy, I gotta do something to pay that back."

"Yes he died for you. But he chose to do that because he wanted to save you. He died so you could live, not go on some reckless suicide mission. Allow him the dignity of his choice!"

He shook his head, "You know I can't do that."

"Why not?”

“I can’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

“It isn’t!” She cried, “And I can’t lose you both.”

"Peg," he said gently, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“Don't you dare touch me," she snarled, slapping his hand away, "Just because you're going to be the next Captain America doesn't give you the right to replace Steve in every regard."

He drew back, shaking from the stinging rebuke. With that she turned and ran away as he watched helplessly.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I'm not sure what sort of upload schedule I'll be on but I'm really enjoying this concept which means the fic is pretty much writing itself so check back soon!