Chapter 5
The weeks following the momentous reunion in the now Carter-Martinelli-Rogers household passed by rapidly.
A great party was thrown in honor of Steve’s miraculous return, The Howling Commandos brought their wild, raucous spirit to the festivities. Amid the exuberant laughter, Dum Dum hoisted his voice in a drunken proclamation: “WHATEVER YOU GUYS NEED, WE’LL BE THERE!” His words rang out across the party hall. “THAT GOES FOR YOU AS WELL, MISS UNION JACK!” he bellowed, a ripple of laughter followed.
Peggy, standing near the edge of the commotion with a steady gaze and a wry smile, couldn’t help but note the affection in Steve’s teasing tone. “Miss Union Jack? Oh, that’s going to be your nickname now,” he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned in close enough for only Peggy to hear.
“Steven Grant Rogers!” Peggy chided gently, but Steve cut her off with a playful wave. “Okay, okay, I didn’t say anything,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
July 15th, 1949
A few days later, Peggy found herself in a sterile conference room that bore little resemblance to the joyful chaos of the party. The air was cool, the light filtering in through tall, narrow windows, and the weight of history pressed upon every word spoken.
“Where is he?” Peggy asked, her tone edged with excitement as she scanned the room, her eyes locking onto faces gathered around her.
“We’ll be there soon,” Howard replied, his voice steady.
Within minutes, the trio—Peggy, Steve, and Howard—stepped into a meticulously arranged room, a person lying on a bed. The door opened to reveal a sight that nearly took their breath away.
“It’s him,” Peggy whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s really him.”
“Hard to believe, is it?” Howard commented, his tone laced with awe. “Again, thank you, Steve.” His words, with gratitude, acknowledged the miracle of the present.
Steve—who had navigated timelines and defied the rules of fate—shrugged with a modest air. “It’s nothing, Howard. Even though it’s a little weird seeing another me,” he admitted, his gaze flickering between the other version of himself. The surreal nature of the encounter was not lost on anyone. For Peggy, it was a reminder of her memories with Steve in the War.
The room fell silent as 1949 Steve (called 49’Steve in this episode; Steve from the next chapter forward), newly awakened, looked on with a mixture of disbelief and apprehension. “Peggy?” his voice quavered as he tried to make sense of the reality before him. All eyes turned toward him as the tension thickened.
“Steve, darling,” Peggy said gently, closing the distance between them. “I want you to be calm.”, her voice, trying to calm the situation.
“I am calm, Peg. This is just… strange,” 49’Steve commented, his eyes darting between his future self and the woman who he loves. “Why does he look like me?” he demanded, a mix of curiosity and disbelief tinting his words.
A subtle smile played on 2023 Steve (called 23’Steve in this episode; Grant from the next chapter forward) lips as he interjected, “Because I’m you. But from the future.” His statement, as impossible as it seemed, resonated with the truth.
“That’s just impossible!” 49’Steve cried, his voice trembling as he turned to Peggy. “Do you believe him?” he asked, his gaze seeking confirmation and comfort.
Peggy nodded, her expression softening with compassion and a quiet certainty that transcended the bizarre nature of their reunion. Perplexed, 49’Steve looked at 23’Steve, and asked. “When I was born?” 49’Steve ventured, trying to pin down the identity of the other.
“July 4th, 1918,” 23’Steve replied matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of self-doubt. “Parents’ names—Sarah and Joseph.” he added, his voice steady, each word reinforcing the certainty of his identity.
“Ma, when did she die?” 49’Steve question, wanting to ask more.
“1936,” came the soft, almost resigned response. “Of what? Tuberculosis—she got it at work.” asked and responded again.
“Why did Erskine choose us?” 49’Steve pressed further, the questions not meant to challenge but to seek understanding—a way to come to terms with the situation.
“Because I wasn’t a perfect soldier, but a good man,” 23’Steve responded, a detail only him would know.
After a long pause, 49’Steve stared speechless at his future self before finally summing up his wonderment. “So you’re really… another me.”
“Yes,” confirmed 23’Steve with a nod. “And what are you doing here?” 49’Steve asked, his tone now edged with curiosity.
Before the conversation could spiral further, Steve glanced at Howard. Stark then nodded in silent agreement, signaling that it was time. “Let’s get home, shall we?” came the quiet, resolute suggestion. And with that, the strange quartet stepped out of the room, and towards Peggy and Angie’s house.
The days that followed brought a new trajectory to their mission, the strange dichotomy of two Steves began to take on a life of its own. In the quiet moments between plans, 49’Steve, still reeling from the shock of awakening in an unfamiliar time, turned to 23’Steve.
“So, Bucky is alive—and a brainwashed supersoldier,” 49’Steve declared one evening as they gathered in the so-called war room, maps and notes strewn across a table. His voice was firm, melancholy as he stared at the various documents spread across.
“We have to rescue him,” 49’Steve continued, his tone echoing his resolve.
“We’ll do that,” 23’Steve responded firmly, his gaze unwavering. His reply was not just an affirmation—it was a vow. A promise to fight, to liberate him, who had been ensnared in the twisted machinations of HYDRA.
“Okay,” 49’Steve said, the gravity of their shared mission slowly settling over him. “So now, why did you come back?” he asked.
“I’ve fought for a long time, and I’m ready to stop,” 23’Steve replied, his voice carrying the weariness of countless battles and the hope of a new beginning—a recognition that the endless struggle had taken its toll.
“Is Peggy happy?” 49’Steve inquired, the question laced with personal longing as he sought reassurance that, understanding that he cannot be with her, she at least is good.
“Yes,” came the gentle reply from 23’Steve, a fondness through in his tone. “Angie tells me she is the happiest she’s ever been since she knows her.”
“Okay,” 49’Steve said slowly, digesting the information. “Even though I still want to be with her, if she’s happy, I’m happy. And you know… what better person to be with her than another me, as weird as it sounds?” His voice was laced with a mixture of humor and wistfulness.
A tender smile spread across 23’Steve’s face as he nodded in agreement. The notion, as strange as it might have been to an outsider, felt perfectly natural to the situation, understanding a truth: that no matter how many versions of himself existed, the love and the loyalty he shared with Peggy remained singular and unaltered.