So I saw Captain America a few days ago and I just loved Steve and Peggy's relationship so I started typing this up on my phone. I'm no expert on Marvel or Captain America and this is based purely on the film version, so don't be too hard on me.

Peggy sat at the desk, shoulders hunched, hands to her mouth. Tears dropped onto the microphone that she had been speaking into moments before, hearing Steve's comforting voice; now all she heard was the static white noise. She tried desperately to suppress the sobs that were fighting to escape and her shoulders shook as the silent cries wracked her frame. Finally a small sob came out, the sound of pure grief, and she tried to hold then in lest somebody hear her.

She didn't know how long she sat there, at that desk. She didn't know what to do with herself now – her sole purpose in life over the last few months had been to help Steve, keeping Captain America alive. Now he was dead. Merely thinking it made her want to sleep and awake with this entire journey a dream.

She had loved him. She might have been somewhat nonchalant when they had first met but they had become more. She remembered the happiness she had felt when watching video footage of Steve leading his troops and the picture of her in his compass. She tried desperately to cling to that joy, the hope and promise that upon his return they could have something – love.

Love. It seemed like such a simple word. Four letters, one syllable, and undeniably what Peggy felt for Steve.

How could she not have told him? In those moments before the plane went down she could have said it. That she loved him. Instead they'd joked about dancing, lighthearted when the situation begged for so much more. They'd made a date that could never possibly happen. Three little words, Peggy. Three little words.

Maybe it would have been too heart wrenching to say what they had really felt. Maybe in talking of dancing, Steve had been trying to make it easier for her, to move on. Maybe.

That's all she had left. Useless maybe's. Maybe Steve would have returned and maybe they could have been together. Maybe they could have married and spent their lives together.

Maybe.

The fleeting kiss, the beautiful, peaceful moment amidst the chaos – that was the last time she'd seen him. She hoped that the kiss had been enough to tell him how she truly felt. She was a strong, stubborn woman and Steve knew she didn't easily let others into her life, didn't he? She remembered how her heart had seemed to stop, how time had appeared to slow as their lips had touched, and then how her heart had hammered as Steve had jumped onto the plane, always an inch from death, always the invincible patriotic hero.

Until now.

Well, he was still a patriotic hero – he had died to save lives. He just wasn't invincible like everybody thought. Her mind jumped to when he had leapt onto a grenade to save the other men, willing to give his own life to save theirs. He was a genuinely good person, with a compassionate heart. She had liked him even then, when he was a small, skinny nobody.

She knew when she had first felt something more for him, although she hadn't quite realised it at the time. Well – they were being fired at as they hung in the air in an aluminum death trap. It was somewhat difficult to make an assessment of feelings in that situation. As Steve had thrown himself out of the place, she had been terrified for his safety. Not until back at base when the colonel had accused her of having a crush did she realise.

Thinking all of this made the tears continue, an endless stream. There was a tragic beauty to her tears. As they welled in her eyes and dropped creating trails down her cheeks, she was still beautiful. Sitting there, crying for the man she loved and would never see again.

Captain America, Steve Rogers, was dead.

After quite some time Peggy stood. With a sad sense of finality, she clicked the switch to the radio communications and the white noise was shut off. Walking back to her room, she felt like she was on autopilot. She barely noticed other soldiers going past her. She wondered what her face must look like, usually perfectly made up and devoid of emotion which could welcome taunts from the men, accusing her of being some melodramatic woman. She paused at the window of an office and saw her face – her eye makeup had run and smeared and her face was anything but the poised and collected expression of indifference she so usually wore. She always presented herself as the tough, strong woman, the sort of woman men looked at from a distance, but she would never let them get close to her emotionally. And no wonder – look what had happened.

Once she had returned to her tiny room with the small single bed, she collapsed onto it fully clothed. Exhaustion plagued her. She felt her eyelids drooping shut and felt wrong for wanting to sleep, but fighting that day and crying a river over the man she had lost had tired her. She slept a fitful night's sleep and woke far too late. She dressed in new clothes, pinned her hair and reapplied her makeup. She was the poised and determined woman again.

She entered Colonel Chester Phillip's office where he sat at his desk signing papers. He looked up as she walked forward. "Agent Carter!" He sounded shocked.

"Sorry I'm so late sir," she said.

"Carter, I didn't expect you today…"

"Why not sir?" She'd hidden herself behind that mask again and she wondered if he could tell.

"Peggy…" She couldn't remember a time he'd ever called her by her first name. "Why don't you have the week off? I know you were close to Rogers-"

"It's fine, sir," she said, her voice noticeably strained.

"I heard you. Last night, in the communications room. You should take some time to… to get over this."

Peggy didn't dare tell him it would take her more than a week off to get over this – that would reveal too much. "Please sir. I think my time would be better spent working."

"But-"

"I mean you no disrespect but if I spend a weak dealing with my thoughts I might just go mad." She didn't meet the man's eyes. He was silent for a long while.

Finally he spoke. "Well alright. You can work on the recovery of that bloody cube. Stark's searching for it in the ocean around where Rogers made contact with us after taking control of Schmidt's plane."

"What about recovering Steve?"

"Yes, we have men on that but we're not optimistic in what we'll find. Sorry, Peggy."

By the way, he made a date. And date's are meant to be kept. That's all I'm gonna say.