Steve couldn't help but recall the last time he kissed Peggy — on the snowy peaks of the Alps. HYDRA's transport plane, loaded with gas bombs, was already lifting off the ground. He had been moments away from leaping onto its landing gear, fully aware that it might be a one-way trip.
It was then that Peggy, standing in the back seat of the jeep, suddenly rose on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him with a fierce passion — as if pouring every ounce of luck and courage she possessed into him.
In that instant, Steve had no doubt he could save the world.
And he did.
He stopped Schmidt, crashing the plane full of gas bombs into the ice, sparing countless lives. He had been worthy of everyone in the world.
Everyone… except the girl who had stood in that jeep and kissed him as if it was the last moment they would ever share.
The dance they had promised each other after the war stretched into a silence lasting half a century. Peggy's once-dark hair was now streaked with silver from the passage of time, while Steve had only just awakened — as if stepping out of another era.
That dance seemed doomed never to happen.
Unless…
Steve's right hand rested over the pocket of his trousers, fingers curling gently around the cool surface of a small bottle. He was torn — impulsive, yet hesitant. Unlike him, a man out of time, Peggy had lived a full life. Her bedside cabinet was lined with family photographs. Though no man appeared in the frames, she clearly had two children — a son and a daughter — both smiling brightly.
He listened quietly as Peggy spoke of the past. After a long silence, Steve released the bottle and smiled faintly, sitting beside her as the warm light of the setting sun spilled through the window.
"This world is still beautiful," Steve murmured, "though compared to seventy years ago, a lot has changed… even aliens."
"It's beautiful because you helped save it, Steve," Peggy replied, her voice tinged with regret. "It's just… we made a mess of it again."
"No, you didn't," he reassured her, taking her hand in his. "The S.H.I.E.L.D. you built was good. No one could have foreseen HYDRA's infiltration."
He smiled softly. "One of the reasons I joined the Avengers was because part of its legacy came from you."
Peggy's expression grew thoughtful. "Avengers… The future is unpredictable, Steve. This world has changed so much. You have to be careful."
"I will," he promised, though his eyes held both affection and sorrow.
They spoke for a long time, Steve sharing the confusion and longing of a man displaced in time. Peggy listened, sometimes tightening her grip on his hand.
"The sun's almost gone. I should come again next week…" Steve said, glancing once more at the photos. This time, he smiled with quiet relief and started to rise.
Then Peggy began coughing violently. Her frail body shook, forcing her to lean into Steve's shoulder.
"Peggy!" He helped her lie back. "I'll get the nurse—"
But before he could leave, her coughing eased, replaced by a breathless gasp. "Steve!?"
He froze, turning back. "Peggy?"
Her cloudy eyes widened as though truly seeing him for the first time in decades. Confusion gave way to recognition, disbelief, and then joy. Tears welled instantly.
"You… you're alive, Steve!" Her voice trembled with excitement. "You came back!"
Steve stood motionless in the doorway, stunned. Then, understanding her sudden clarity, he walked to her side and knelt, letting her clutch his hand.
"I knew you wouldn't die," she whispered, smiling through tears. "You still owe me that dance."
He squeezed her hand gently. "Of course. How could I not come back when a beautiful lady's been waiting?"
She gazed at him with the same fervor she'd shown on that snowy day so long ago. This wasn't the calm acceptance she'd shown earlier — this was the raw, youthful love of the Peggy he'd left behind.
Steve realized the truth. She must have let him believe she'd moved on, thinking her age would hold him back. But deep down, she'd never stopped wanting to keep that promise.
He brushed a strand of white hair from her face, his heart aching. "I'm sorry, Peggy. I know why you did it. But I can't let go of the past. A soldier without his commander has no meaning."
Her expression softened, innocence in her eyes despite the years.
Reaching into his pocket, Steve withdrew the bottle Tony had given him. As he opened it, a sweet, vibrant scent filled the room. Even the wilting vines on the windowsill seemed to stir with life.
Peggy stared, her eyes reflecting both curiosity and an unspoken yearning. "What is that?" she whispered, as though her very body was urging her to drink from it.