From Time to Eternity

All characters rightfully belong to Marvel Comics

The ominous shadow of the war faded. The Valkyrie was gleaming and spearheading towards the east horizon. Inside, Captain Steve Rogers felt the world tilting as the aircraft was gliding through the intangible clouds.

He unstrapped his helmet and tasted the copper tang of blood trickling down his throat as he stumbled to regain balance in his boots. The ice blue cube rolled over the grates and he felt dizzy for a few harrowing seconds.

Tiny squares of light cut through the darkness of his focused pupils as the crystal azure irises held tears that seeped from the corners of his steady eyes. He felt the warmth of the sunrise bathe over his ash smudged and bruised face. He had to seize one last act of valor. This was his choice. He couldn't bail out-not when thousand lives were at stake- he had to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had laid down his life.

How am I going to do this?

Steve made an oath in his resilient heart to protect the lives of the world. He made a promise to never lose himself in the semblance of Captain America. He didn't want to be a hero, a monumental figure of his time. He just wanted to do what had been right, and finish his brave act of immeasurable strength.

With one pound of his heart wracking against his ribs, Steve grabbed the controls as he felt the aircraft rotate three axes against the air currents into the center of gravity. It was not going to be an easy task. He wasn't a pilot. He was a soldier.

Gasping out a sharp breath, he grabbed the "W" shape control yoke of the aircraft that would give him control of the attitude of the plane as the cockpit became filled with warm light. He squeezed his gloved hands against the controls, rotating the wheel and the ailerons and the roll axis. The wind rushed through the glass of the cockpit, lashing over his tensed cheekbones as he tried to pull back the nose of the aircraft, but nothing worked.

When he pushed the yoke forward the nose lowered. The decrease of gravity struck him down, his muscles locked against the chair as his blonde hair whipped over his broad forehead. The world was different up there. No plumes of smoke rising from smoldering tanks and metal frames of vehicles. No fields of the fallen young man. It was furling clusters of clouds around him, pearly white against the pale blue sky.

No sacrifice. No victory.

Time was betraying him. The lights became streaks against the hard graphite of his cowl as Schmidt's vehicle was racing down the runway of the airplane hangar. He was close to Peggy, so close to see every shade of red painted on her full lips. His heart was pounding like a freight train reaching full acceleration. Her dark ringlets blowing in the wind, as her deep and rich chocolate eyes looked up at him with desperation. Yet, she found a calmness of hope in her deep gaze. Hesitation and doubt controlled his turbulent emotions; he was a fraction of inch, almost a breath away to finally seal his love to her on those beautiful lips. He had his utmost to regress all disbelief, and focused on her.

Steve hovered over her, warring with himself, feeling his thumping heart arching to embrace her into his arms, his mind told him to maintain a vow of silence. His head hung low while his shoulders trembled with uncertainty. It wasn't long before he felt her soft hand come to rest on his shoulder, gently turning him away from darkening scenario of HYDRA's warpath and back towards the light - towards her. His head hung low and he stared with a racing heart at her deep brown eyes and polished lips.

When Peggy pulled her lips closet to his jaw, soothing warmth brushed over his quivering mouth as his large shaky hand stroked gently in the mass of her chocolate strands, and then, he slowly shadowed her lips with equal heat.

Steve felt himself treading a dangerous, yet intoxicating course, one that may ultimately make the weight of his loss and responsibly all the more heavy. But neither logic nor honor could prevent him from pressing his soft lips onto hers. Like so many times before, a jolt of heat moved through his blood as he felt her melt beneath his touch. If death was waiting for him at the end of the mission, she gave him no sign of fear. To his utter joy and excitement, he felt her lips move against his own with a hungry passion that was contagious as he kissed her hard enough to take her breath away. It was a spark of life he needed. Her mouth danced under his wet caress as time froze around them. Then, as he pulled away, slowly, grasping her lips for another second, his blue eyes locked with her dark ones.

"Once this mission is done. I'm taking you dancing. Now… Go and get him, Captain," she dismissed with her trademark coy grin; and her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him, even though she felt the detachment of her love shield over his heart. Steve nodded and gave her a weak smile, and then placed his focus on the wheel of the speeding aircraft; he climbed out of the vehicle's side, and hoisted his massive body upwards.

He never looked back.

"Steve..." Peggy's unwavering voice edged with an urgent plea, she couldn't deny the lucid dread pulsating with rapid paces in her searing veins. She affixed her teary resolve on the radio transmitter; a severe ache resided in her chest, like a knife to the heart, except the blade kept on slicing deeper.

Listening to the thunderous percussion of the engines created an unadulterated revelation to invade the paces of her turbulent thoughts while she tried to grasp onto in the impending minutes, sensing the terminal. Sucking back a few deep breaths, she felt her rigid posture conforming against the chair; sitting utterly alone inside the HYDRA command center, she didn't budge. Her dark eyes were strictly resigned to the radio transmitter inches from her quivering red lips; tolerating the absence of light gleaming on the indestructible symbol of valor-the shield –the forged pledge of Captain America.

"Can you hear me?" she implored with the utmost of importance; trying to stay relatively calm, even while she felt so hopeless and vulnerable, losing herself in merciless despair; she had to preserving confidence that she would find the captain sitting in a Red Cross tent outside the SSR base, the fullness of his soft lips holding a sheepish smile as nurses assessed his wounds.

Now, everything blenched a bare, indefinite memory, not real enough for her to harbor when the dire tempest clashed inside her. She couldn't purge the warring emotions from keeping her heart thrumming at irregular pace.

"Engines are failing, Peggy..." Steve answered in a heaving, labored breath, his watering eyes glanced the instrument control panel of the looking down at the Valkyrie's instrument panel. Pain crept to the surface of his sated muscles, and he tried to tilt the plane in a direction closer to the beds of ice ahead.

Feeling an irreparable hole gauged into his heart, Steve parted his bruised lips, tasting staleness of blood dribbling against his raw throat; and fighting against the resets of pain rippling in his veins.

Feeling a killing blow ram against his chest, Steve recoiled in pilot chair, steering his passive blue eyes at the mass of lavender tinted clouds, rays of light reflected over his slacken face offering him warmth as the frigid bite of air currents slashed against his squared jaw; and Steve knew that the only way to finish the mission—to spare the lives of his city targeted to become ash was to break the radio connection with Peggy and nose dive the plane into the ocean.

He couldn't let HYDRA win, to puncture every cherished moment he spent with her-to extract his conserved guilt of never telling Peggy the evident truth that he loved her. He refused to let her go, to become some other soldier's dance partner and share the fated moments that were stolen from him—because of the yielding choice he had granted his reluctance to consume every fiber of his fighting spirit. He had to keep fighting until the end of line.

When he felt the air pressure was declining with vicious and punishing gravitational pull, he couldn't muster up the volume of his words, not when his body tensed with abated honor. Tears congealed in his eyes as he reached with effort of desperation for the only memento he had left to salvage as the plane was careening to the proximate trundles of ice— the compass—his last line of defense against onslaughts of rippling heartache.

'Focus soldier and complete the mission.'

Time was fleeting around him, minutes was all Steve had left to share his last words with her. He had to make the request genuine, reeling back his salvation and fight for her freedom. Desperation gripped him to the bone. "Peggy, if I survive this mission would..." He winced as flecks of glass scraped over his jaw; warm trickles of blood oozed out of silted the gash.

There was so much pain and unease, cascades of light rising horizon glistened over his slick face and he felt consumed and torn. He choked up his breath; squashing a lump of hesitance. His heart pounded, blood rushed in his ears and stomach roiled with churns of nausea.

The sky etched into a spiraling blur, dissolved and regenerating. Everything ripped into pieces before swallowing everything into vacuum. He had to ask her, no matter what, he needed to hear the answer... "Would you go dancing with me?" Steve finally asked, not evoking the dominant grounded tone of Captain America, but the voice of the true man she loved.

Beyond the stalwart visages of unbreakable iron and fierce devotion, her heart was tearing itself apart; shredding into pieces that dissolved with every drop of tear streaking down her paled cheeks. It was only mere seconds, that's how much time Peggy had before she would allow unwanted sorrow to lance through her.

"Listen to me voice, Captain," she spoke into the microphone, using the gravity of her words to ease the thralls of pain bashing against her chest. It seemed inevitable to believe in false hope, to embrace the grim reality that he wasn't returning to her. She blinked the tears out her eyes, and swallowed down a sob in her throat. "I will guide you back home..."

"Peggy," Steve echoed back, his tone strained with hitch of pelting despondence. He had reached his soldier's paradox; choosing sacrifice to lay down his life for the mission-to prevent HYDRA from achieving victory on this day.

A lot of lives of the Eastern seaboard were counting on his willful intrepid decision. Steve knew that he was just flesh and blood, but Captain America would be an everlasting, incorruptible symbol of truth and freedom.

People would carry his banner, reclaim hope and faith within themselves and young kids from Brooklyn would stand up to fight for their beliefs. As Steve recollected his heartfelt choice, his gloved hands clutched the steering tiller with every surge of his strength coursing in his veins.

Possessing enough measures of courage to face whatever fate had in store for him, Steve intently glanced at the brass compass resting on the navigation control board. He dismally stared at the black and white photograph of Peggy: a snippet he managed to cut out from a newspaper; suddenly the descent of gravity caused the cockpit glass shields to shatter, arctic winds lashed against his chiseled and battered features, blood run aimlessly from his split lip.

In those last moments, his pacing heart felt leaden, weight of his regrets crushed against him; Steve tried to fight against the swell of tears retraining in his blue eyes. The world around him was ripping apart; predawn fog became endless white and peaks of azure speared against the sleek wings of the Valkyrie.

Everything blotted in his resolve, flecks of light chased the shadows and he was on tipping edge of air currents, descending into fathomless void. "This is my choice," he spoke in a determined volume of untainted acceptance; settling his glistening blue eyes on the ridges of ice below. "I can't bench this one out, not when I gotta lots of good people counting on me -"

"I know, Steve," Peggy returned with slightest hitch of pain in her voice. She gripped onto the edge of desk, polished nails scraped over the wood, as if it became a life line through a raging fire storm. She could feel the constant fluttering of panicking heart, and in dire moments she listened to his fading voice. She had to become his support-anchor- for what little time remained.

Tears were blurring her vision, her ruby lips folded into a taunt seal of anguish. Peggy had to dismiss the corrosive heartache, and tried not falter as her love was crashing into the icy abyss.

Even when despair threatened to spear through her; Peggy found reserves of strength, distant but evident to hold against the desolation of inexorable grief. When she was granted a sense of reclamation, Peggy had discovered that value, discipline and resilience still existed under the barriers of her guarded her.

Feeling the embers of defiance churn in his stomach, Peggy knew that in this moment of was her chance to prove to the all doubts stirring within in her that she was in charge of the mission; everything depended on her unrelenting persistence to guide the lost soldier back home. She was his compass, always pointing him into the right direction.

"When you get back, we'll go dancing just like you wanted..." she relayed with a hopeful clotting of urgency. "I won't care if you step on my toes...I will be your partner, guiding you through every step and I won't let you lose your way, Captain."

"Boy, I sure wished I learned to dance," he admitted with honestly laced in his voice. Messy blond tresses whipped over his blemished forehead, light of the rising dawn caressed his face and pierced his azure eyes, the plane was nose driving through the passage of glaciers, engines were failing and pressure was dwindling as coldness scraped in his lungs.

Peggy seemed so far away, Steve kept his intent focus on her picture, using her beautiful face a calming assurance that she would always be there calling him back home. "For you, I can try to dance...but I think I'm gonna to need a rain check," He lifted the yolk, accelerating faster, while feeling the jolts of gravity rattle through his tensed bones, ice broke apart and he closed his eyes and he reached for the compass, clutching it against his palm.

Seconds vanished into paces of breath, splashes white and blue colored the edges of his face, and the world spiraled into darkness. Steve cried for in last moments; securing the compass into coil of his fingers. Despite feeling the impact clash against his body, he held a weak smile on his paling lips; welcoming death to claim his soul...but never his heart.

"So wait for me a little longer, my best girl," he dismissed his final command; his voice held readiness and the grayness of his vision blurred with the sting of regretful tears.

It felt like shards of ice were shoved down his throat, slicing his lungs as he barely summoned even breath to stare at the remnants of HYDRA's legacy sinking below the ice.

Benumbing water encased over his dense sculpt of muscle, and his resilience was fading against tantalizing dread coursing through the valves of his heart-and he tried to deny the severe pain; accepting a soldier's end as he slipped away from the world.

As the plane tilted downward into the depths, the cockpit was engulfed with icy water; Steve gave one last whack of suffocating breath before his bones froze, ears deafened and his heart stopped when violent gushes of water caved over his leaden, unconscious body. The constant throb in his chest receded, and he drifted asleep; weightless, steadfast and frozen; holding onto Peggy forever.

..Static...

"I'm not afraid of dying, Buck..."

Bucky placed his firm hand over his bony shoulder, allowing warm to break through the coldness grinding at the frail and brittle bones. His pale blue eyes bright and full lips pulled into an accepting brotherly smile. "Remember, I'm with you until the end of the line, pal."

The mission was completed.

"Goodbye... My best girl."

He was going home.

1946...

"I don't need your bloody help, Mr. Jarvis." Peggy protested through clenched teeth, her brown eyes held glints of defiance, as she stared at the heated needle threading up the marred skin of her gunshot wound—her mark of victory.

Sitting on the expansive couch inside the master bedroom, Peggy spared a look, intently locked her eyes on the stains of maroon caressed over her light blue blouse. Sighing out a frustrated breath, she reserved her thanks to Howard's faithful and resilient butler: Edwin Jarvis. His crisp grayish-blue eyes looked up at her with a steady regard of his utmost concern.

Reacting to his silent approach of breaching her walls, Peggy stubbornly averted his gaze, and released a sigh. "My line of work will end up getting you killed if you are a part of this mission," she clarified, pressing the expanse of her burgundy lips into a taut line. "This is something I must handle on my own, Mr. Jarvis. I have made a promise to Howard that I would do everything in my power to set things right... I have no intention of breaking that pledge because his stubborn butler decided to become a Howling Commando under my watch."

Jarvis effortlessly removed his glasses, and gazed steadily into her chocolate irises. He narrowed a stare at her wounded shoulder, a reminder of how much value her life holds to the new and escalating world. "You need my services, Miss Carter." he spoke with a firm edge in his baritone, holding her indifferent glare. "I made a promise to Mr. Stark that I would protect you in whatever ways I can."

He narrowed his blue eyes at her wounded leg with disapproval written on his distinguished face.

"Seeing that you got shot on my first venture suggests that I must try harder." he smiled lightly, and stared deeply into her eyes, discovering her pain and bottled grief. "Captain Rogers didn't do his final mission alone."

Peggy felt her eyes grew damp at the mention of Steve.

"He had you for support. You help him save the world that day." He placed his hand atop of hers, holding in gently. "You are an extraordinary woman, Miss Carter. You are meant for much greater things. One day you will come to understand that truth and find that Captain America still exists when you finally decide to look inside yourself."

Then, as if sensing her heartache, Jarvis took out a small photo of his medical bag. "Mr. Stark wanted me to give this to you, Agent Carter." He handed the photo to her, and placed it in her hand. "It's something that will give you strength for your mission." he said soothingly.

Peggy flicked her jeweled brown eyes down at the photo, and then she smiled contently at the memory, letting her gaze, staring beyond the black and white saturation of the picture of Captain Steve Rogers. He looked strong and noble. He wore his dark green military uniform, and his ruffled blond hair was combed with a wave parting to the left side—his azure eyes filled with purpose and determination when he listened to the battle plans. She didn't cry. She was trapped in distant haze wonderment and felt the searing warmth of his lips enfold over hers again.

"There he is..." she uttered out her words, and choked them up a little, her dark eyes still locked on the photo. "The bravest and least selfless man I have ever come to know. Captain Rogers was my..."

Jarvis gave her a crisp smile, and patted her knee, "You don't have to say it. I already know." he whispered, with a tender smile.

With that, Peggy curled her red lips into smirk; accepting his words, and then she dismissed out an order, "As you were, Mr. Jarvis." She smiled a little more at him all the while holding onto the Steve photo close. He was always going to be with her. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

The End.