Forward to the Past [Steggy] ✔

Chapter Seventeen

Peggy's POV

In my dream, we're dancing. Steve smiles down at me, his eyes crinkling. His hand rests on my waist, mine on his shoulder. Slow music plays in the background, and our feet move rhythmically. Step, step, right, left.

This is the dance that should have been. The dance that might have happened, had things gone our way. Had Steve not plummeted into the ice of the Atlantic ocean, we might have done this, many more times than just once, perhaps.

"I love you, Peggy," Steve murmurs, my head resting on his shoulder. He lifts his chin to rest it on the top of my head, and his hand lets go of my waist to find its way to my hair.

"I love you too, Steve," I reply, Steve's soft breath sending strands of my hair fluttering.

And then he's gone.

The music is silent, and it's just me and fifty or so other people in the room dancing to no music. And I'm the only one alone. Steve is gone. And there's a feeling in my gut that tells me he's not coming back.

....................

My eyes fly open, and I stare at the ceiling, my face wet with tears.

The realization that when I go home, Steve won't be there, has been slowly driving me insane for the past week. Howard has been procrastinating on our return to nineteen fifty, as he is thoroughly enjoying our visit to the future. I can't really say I'm dissatisfied with the experience, but the fact that I have to go back- and that I won't remember- is the worst part, weighing me down as the day progresses.

Each morning, I wake with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that only seems to grow heavier and heavier the longer we stay. And I'm falling so hard for Steve even now that it's going to be almost impossible to return to the life I'd had before. Even if I don't remember it then, I'll know now. And that is something I won't be able to withstand much longer.

And now, with the last shreds of my dream lingering in my mind, I slide out of my bed and walk barefoot through the hall to get to Steve's room. He's not allowed to leave the compound yet, even if he does insist about thirty times a day that he's fine and he hates it here.

Either way, I need to see him. Even if it is- I check the clock- two in the morning.

I cautiously turn the handle of Steve's door, surprised to find it unlocked. Taking a quiet step inside, I shut the door behind me, then glance at Steve's sleeping form on the bed. He's twitching slightly, his muscles tense and his eyelids fluttering. He's dreaming.

I take a few steps toward the bed, my eyebrows drawing together as Steve starts to moan and thrash around a bit. What should I do? It's clearly a nightmare, I think to myself, my heart beating fast as Steve emits a sharp yell. Thinking quickly, I hurry forward and slide discreetly into the bed next to Steve, trying to avoid his flailing arms. Eventually, I pin them down, straddling his chest, which heaves under me. How he's not awake, I have no idea.

Releasing one of Steve's arms, I get off of him, feeling awkward in the position that I had just been in. I lay my head on the pillow next to him, running my fingers through his hair as he falls still, continuing to moan slightly.

After a few moments, his eyes fly open, and I sit up, looking at him in concern.

"You okay?" I check, and Steve nods, blinking.

"How long have you been in here?" He asks, his voice a little rough from sleep.

"A few minutes," I say, reaching over and rubbing his arm comfortingly. "What were you dreaming about?"

"The train," Steve says quietly. "Same one as always. Except in this one, you were there too. And you fell. I couldn't do anything. I lost both you and Bucky, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it."

"Bucky and I are both here now," I assure him, And Steve nods, though he still seems to be quite shaken up. Feeling a bit like my mother, I ask Steve softly, "do you want me to stay here tonight?"

"Yeah," Steve murmurs, rolling onto his side to fully face me. "That would be nice, yeah."

"I had a dream too," I admit. "That's why I came in here. I just needed to see you."

"What did you dream about?" Steve queries.

"Us," I say simply. "We were dancing. And then... we weren't. You disappeared. And you didn't come back."

"I still owe you a dance," Steve mumbles, his hands reaching across to find mine. Our fingers interlock, and I smile at him.

"Yes, you do," I say a little sadly. "Maybe we can make it up?"

"I'd like that," Steve says, leaning,g over to kiss me lightly. "It'd ease my conscience."

"Steve, does that really weigh down your conscience?" I ask as Steve's face shows no signs of a joke.

"It's been on my mind for a long time," Steve admits. "It was the last thing I thought of before I went down. And the first thing I thought of when I woke up and they told me How long it'd been. I was alive, but I'd missed my date."

"Oh, Steve." I scoot closer to him, my eyes starting to sting a little. "It's alright. Don't worry about it. That's the last thing I would've wanted you to think about. At least you're alive."

"I wanted to be with you," Steve says sadly, staring at me intently.

"Well, you're with me now," I say. "And we can make up that dance. I know there's a lot happening, but we can probably scrape out some spare time to do it, can't we?"

"Of course," Steve says, his frown transforming into a lopsided grin. "Anything for my best girl."

"Anything for my Captain," I respond sleepily, and the next thing I know, I'm falling asleep with Steve's arm wrapped around my waist. And there couldn't be anything better.