Chapter 52 : Tempus fugit (Two more Valentines)

 

Unknown location, unknown time, in Steve Roger’s mind.

 

Steve Rogers was trapped in a dream.

 

It was always the same. He showed up in a ballroom, all prim and proper in his most fancy suit and his eyes landed on Margarett.

 

Margarett, or Peggy for her friends, would cross eyes with him across the room.

 

She would smile and the two would make their way toward each other.

 

“You’re late.” She would say with a little smile.

 

“I’m sorry.” Steve would answer while smiling back, “I couldn’t call my ride.”

 

Peggy would playfully slap him on his arm.

 

“No matter, you owe me a dance mister.” She would say with a mock-glare.

 

Steve would laugh, bowing and extending an arm toward her like a perfect gentleman.

 

“Peggy, will you give me this dance?” He would ask, smiling all the way.

 

“About time.” She would sniff, before smiling radiantly at him and taking his proffered hand.

 

The music would start and the two would dance with each other at the sound of the same music.

 

Then Steve would find himself alone, the ballroom deserted and his arms empty.

 

Because he had been late, and nobody had waited for him.

 

Soon enough, the ballroom was full once more, the buzz of laughter, conversation and music assaulting him as he crossed the threshold for the nth time.

 

He didn’t know how long he had been trapped in that dream, a dream that was starting to get more and more nightmarish with each repetition, but his subconscious was apparently unwilling to let it go, so he once again made his way across the ballroom.

 

“You’re late.” Peggy said with a smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve answered while smiling back, “I couldn’t call my ride.”

 

Peggy playfully slapped his arm.

 

“No matter, you owe me a dance mister.” She said with a mock-glare.

 

Steve laughed, bowing and extending an arm toward her like a perfect gentleman.

 

“Peggy, will you give me this dance?” He asked, smiling all the way.

 

“About time.” She sniffed, smiling radiantly at him, “But not here, Steve.”

 

Steve blinked, his arm falling alongside his torso.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked, a little lost.

 

Peggy stepped closer, pressing her body against his and joining her hand on the back of his neck.

 

Steve blushed, not really knowing what to do about the situation as she stepped on the tip of her toes.

 

“I’ve said ‘not here’, Steve.” She whispered in his ear and Steve was suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of her breath, “Because it’s time for you to wake up.”

 

***

Unmentioned room, SHIELD Blacksite’s healing ward, undisclosed SHIELD Blacksite, undisclosed location, undisclosed state, 14th of February, 17:32

 

Steve opened his eyes, then promptly shut them when he got blinded for his trouble by a white, cold light.

 

Hissing under his breath as he got acquainted very intimately with the stabbing headache he was subjected to, Steve rolled sideways on the bed he was, supposedly, laying on to cradle his head and shut most of the light.

 

God, he would have even cursed if his throat wasn’t that sore.

 

He stayed immobile like that for a while, his other less impaired senses informing him that something wasn’t quite right.

 

The bedsheets were too soft for a military hospital.

 

There were strange sounds all around that he had never heard, maybe except when being subjected to the good doctor Erskine’s project.

 

The scents weren’t those he was used to either. They were too artificial, too strong and devoid of the omnipresent coppery scent of blood he was used to in campaign.

 

Blearily, he opened his eyes as the headache started to fade.

 

The lighting was unknown to him, some strange little plane circular thing flush with the ceiling. The walls were wallish enough, but they were also riddled with apparatuses he couldn’t even begin to fathom the functions of. There were no windows, which Steve found strange because he had never seen a hospital that claustrophobic in its whole life.

 

Hell, even in a campaign hospital, you’d have those little cuts in the fabric of the tents so that the sun would shine through.

 

Steve’s attention was suddenly drawn toward the door as it opened.

 

A nurse entered, garbed in male clothes and an open long white blouse, her eyes locked on a strange contraption of metal no larger or thicker than a booklet.

 

Her eyes darted to his, and she smiled.

 

“Captain Steve Rogers, I presume?” She asked with a grin, “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

 

Noticing a glass of water on what passed as a bedside table, Steve gulped a mouthful of it before answering.

 

“That would be me, yes.” Steve answered as politely as he could, a hand still rubbing one of his temples, “How may I call you, Miss nurse?”

 

The woman laughed at that.

 

“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Rogers, but I’m actually your doctor.” She answered, eyes twinkling in mischief, “You’ll be in for something of a culture shock in the near future, I’m afraid.”

 

Steve looked at her with a bemused expression, slowly nodding.

 

“I’m starting to think I’m at something of a disadvantage.” He slowly articulated.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Rogers.” She answered as she stepped next to his bed, “Let me just make a quick call, check your vitals one last time and you’ll be able to enjoy your new lease on life.”

 

Steve blinked.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss…?” He hesitantly started.

 

“Doctor Cooper, Captain.” She answered distractedly as she took a pocket sized device in her hand, “One moment, please.”

 

Steve’s mouth shuts.

 

He watched as the woman, Doctor Cooper, brought the device to her face.

 

“Director, he’s awake.” She spoke in it, and Steve’s eyebrows shot to the roof when he realized it acted like a telephone.

 

Yet it was so small!

 

Unbelievable!

 

“Acknowledged.” She answered her interlocutor after a moment, “Am I cleared to explain to him the situation Director?”

 

Another beat passed as Steve started to wonder who that mysterious director the doctor was speaking of.

 

Probably someone way ahead of their time, considering they hired women for important jobs and the technology surrounding them.

 

Hell, even Red Skull didn’t have access to so many fancy things.

 

“Alright, Director.” The woman ended her conversation while nodding to herself.

 

“Sorry, Captain.” She apologized as she put back the little device in her pocket, her attention going back to the multiple screens she was previously looking at, “You were saying?”

 

“What do you mean by a ‘new lease on life’… Doctor Cooper?” He finally asked.

 

“I’m telling you if you promise me not to panic, Captain.” She answered, still not looking at him while finagling with her screens, “Can you do that for me?”

 

“I can certainly try, Miss Cooper.” Steve answered a little tersely.

 

The woman side-eyed him.

 

“A little old fashioned, aren’t we hmm?” She commented offhandedly.

 

Steve blinked at the segue.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He admitted.

 

“Yeah, I bet you don’t.” She answered with a little smirk, “Looks like everything is good. Congratulations on your spectacular recovery.”

 

“...Thank you?” Steve answered, a little lost.

 

“So,” She started as she sat herself on the foot of the bed while looking at him from the side, “We found you encased in ice in the middle of nowhere in the Arctic, buried under metric tons of it in a very old stealth bomber plane.”

 

Steve felt his heart clenches.

 

“Very old?” He asked, his voice trembling a little.

 

The woman arched an eyebrow.

 

“Are you starting to panic?” She asked him, “Because I recall you promised me not to.”

 

Startled by her attitude, Steve closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss.” He said after a while, “Please, go on.”

 

“You were basically a popsicle with a heartbeat when we brought you back a week ago.” She explained, gesturing with her hands, “Following the advice of the one who gave us the intel for where to find you after careful cross-examination, we warmed up the ice very slowly to let your innate capabilities do their job, and here you are.”

 

“How long?” Steve asked, voice as even as he could muster despite his growing sense of dread.

 

“There’s no good way to say that to someone in your shoes, Captain, so I’m going to be blunt.” Doctor Cooper said as she looked at him in his eyes, “But we are in the 21th century, the year is 2007.”

 

“What?” Steve blurted out, but a hand landing on his legs halted his motion to get out of his bed.

 

“Relax, Mr. Rogers.” The woman said in a soothing tone, “Take a deep breath.”

 

As his thoughts churned, Steve tried to do just so.

 

“There, better.” Steve heard the woman comment, “Don’t worry, the Director will put you up to speed in a jiffy.”

 

The door opening once again pulled Steve out of his focus.

 

“Director Carter, he’s all yours.” He heard the woman say distantely.

 

Because in front of his eyes, Peggy Carter stood, looking like she hadn't aged a day since he crash landed Red Skull’s plane.

 

“You’re late.” She berated him, expression a tad pinched.

 

“I’m sorry,” He answered, a tear running along his cheek, “I couldn’t call my ride.”

 

Peggy laughed as she stepped next to his bed while Doctor Cooper made her exit.

 

“You rehearsed that, didn't you?” She asked while gently taking his hand in hers.

 

“For a while yes, what with sleeping for more than sixty years apparently.” He answered as their fingers intertwined.

 

“No matter, you owe me a dance mister.” She quipped back, “Sadly, there’s no ballroom here, so…”

 

The next thing Steve knew, Peggy was straddling him on the bed, her two hands cradling his head.

 

“...I guess I’m going to have to be satisfied with a kiss, sleepyhead.” She declared with eyes full of mischief.

 

Despite his growing blush, Steve gladly complied.

 

***

SHIELD Director Nicholas Fury’s personal flat, undisclosed location for security reasons, New York, the same day, 17:45

 

Nick Fury distractedly looked at his personal and secure phone as its tone ringed, indicating he had a new message.

 

-The subject has awoken, Black Ops Director Carter is with him right now.- It curtly indicated.

 

Fury snorted, shaking his head slightly.

 

Of course the guy had to wake up on Valentine’s day.

 

Maybe Nick’s mentor will finally get the damned dance he had heard about for more than twenty years spent at her side.

 

Letting go of his phone, Nick’s good eye landed on his safe’s location, cunningly hidden behind a wall that had to be purposefully broken if you wanted to get access to it, and rigged with enough explosives to level a small city bloc in case you tried to bypass the lock keyed to his biometric data.

 

It was a nice deceit considering he had another safe somewhere in his study, filled to the brim with falsely important looking documents and visas.

 

Idly scratching his chin while crossing one of his legs loosely over the other, Fury remembered what codename Simurgh had told him about the object he was now the designated ward.

 

“The Tesseract may look like the golden goose, but make no mistakes,” The female entity had said, “If you start playing with it, you’ll bring on Earth the kind of attention nobody’s ready for. Consider it like an egg of some sort. In its current state, while you can only access its shell, it can be safely handled by humans, enabling those in the known to manipulate space. But if the casing were to be removed or broken because somebody wanted to access the yolk, somebody out there is going to notice immediately. There’s only two words to describe that scenario : Game Over.”

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An Infinity Stone, she had called it. One of the six cornerstones of the creation of their universe. It couldn’t be destroyed because it would destabilize their universe in the long term, provoking its early collapse, and trying to hide it would only delay the inevitable.

 

Nonetheless, it was apparently their only move until someone capable of harnessing its powers for the benefit of mankind without dying horribly was born.

 

So Fury would watch over it and hope it wouldn’t cost him his life in the meantime.

 

He had been a bit pissed off when he had discovered enough spying devices planted by HYDRA in his flat to record a small budget movie, but they were now on his side after codename Simurgh had hand-waved the problem away.

 

Literally.

 

He was now constantly receiving new data from the multiple HYDRA plants inside of SHIELD on his home computer while the squids were receiving random bullcrap extrapolated from his personality.

 

Fury had never spent that much time home since he had entered SHIELD, but funneling those datas onto a secure server that the Blacksite Peggy operated from could freely access was now his most important job.

 

Fury was still on the fence about codename Simurgh, but he was tentatively trusting her for now.

 

After all, she had yet to lie to him.

 

But her knowledge being so uncanningly accurate was unnerving him.

 

She was a mystery doubled by an unknown quantity.

 

Fury was deeply convinced that what she had chosen to admit to him as her agenda had been severely edited.

 

No matter, he would be ready if she stepped out of line.

 

SHIELD Director Nicholas Fury was, after all, always prepared for the worst.

 

A purring sound distracted him of his paranoid musing.

 

“Hey buddy,” He said, catching the little gray fur ball under its belly to put it in his lap, “Who’s the happiest kitty of all?”

 

Fury’s cat, of course, didn’t respond.

 

“Yeah, yeah, happy Valentine’s day to you too.” He cooed at it while scratching its belly.

 

Because if Fury had a ton of secrets, there was one that nobody was privy to.

 

SHIELD Director Nicholas Fury was secretly a cat person.

 

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