Chapter 6
WASHINGTON, D.C.
July 16th, 1949
“Do you guys have any information on the Bucky situation?” Steve asked, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and determination.
Without missing a beat, Grant reached over and placed a meticulously folded map on the desk in front of them. His fingers traced the intricate lines that depicted territories and routes, landing on a specific mark. “Yes,” he replied, his tone both measured and resolute. “We have a lead on Siberia.”
Peggy, her gaze never leaving the map, interjected. “We’re going to go in ten days.” Her announcement was firm, the plan now in motion. For her, every minute was a precious resource, a countdown to the moment when long-held secrets might finally be uncovered and the weight of history could be confronted head-on.
Steve, whose expression oscillated between curiosity and incredulity, leaned forward. “Only we three?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.
Peggy’s eyes softened as she met his gaze. “There’s someone more,” she confessed. “But I still have to alert her that this is happening.” The weight of the decision pressed upon her shoulders—the knowledge that inviting this person could be a risk.
From across the room, Angie’s voice rang out, its tone playful yet tinged with pragmatic urgency. “Well, you better get going, Carter. And you two,” she added, gesturing broadly to the two Steves, “it’s movie night!”
Both versions of Steve exchanged knowing smiles and a subtle nod, acknowledging that there’s no discussion to have. Meanwhile, Peggy excused herself, her thoughts turning toward the ally who had agreed to meet later.
Later that afternoon, Peggy arrived outside Dottie’s apartment, her steps measured and her mind racing through countless scenarios. The door swung open, revealing Dottie—her gaze sharp.
“Oh, hello, Carter,” Dottie greeted, her voice a mixture of cool detachment and underlying curiosity. “What are you doing here?” There was a subtle challenge in her tone, as if she were already bracing herself for the news Peggy was about to deliver.
Peggy offered a small, knowing smile. “In ten days, Underwood,” she stated—a summons to join the mission.
“Got it,” Dottie replied, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she processed the information. “Where do we meet?” she asked, already organizing the logistics of the upcoming mission.
“We will get you here, and then we’ll go through the plan all together,” Peggy explained calmly. There was an air of command in her voice—every detail considered.
Dottie’s gaze softened for just a moment as she asked, “Anything more?”
“No. Goodbye,” Peggy replied briskly, her tone leaving no room for further discussion. With that, she turned on her heel, her mind already racing ahead to the next phase of their operation. The door closed behind her, leaving Dottie to ponder the gravity of the mission.
Back at the Carter-Martinelli-Rogers household, the night began to settle over, the energy that once filled the house now giving way to the calm routine of winding down. In the living room, the two Steves and Angie gathered for a brief moment of camaraderie.
“I’m going to bed,” Grant declared with a slight yawn, his fatigue apparent after the day’s intense planning, his eyes heavy.
“Okay, night,” Angie replied warmly. “And you?” she asked, turning to Steve.
“I’m good,” Steve answered, his thoughts swirling with the uncertainties of what the future might hold.
“So when do you want to get back in the world?” Angie prodded gently.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Steve admitted after a long pause, his tone contemplative, words a mixture of resolve and resignation. “I want to get the Bucky thing sorted out and then I’ll go from there.”
“He seems very important to you,” Angie observed quietly, her voice carrying empathy for Steve.
“He is.” Steve confirmed with a small smile. The affection in his tone was unmistakable—a genuine love for a friend.
“Okay,” Angie said softly as she began to walk toward her bedroom, her steps light. “You know, this may be the only time you can rest for being Captain America.”
“I guess,” Steve replied with a wry smile. “Night, Angie.”
“Good night, Steve,” Angie returned, her farewell filled with both warmth and understanding.