Clara Oswin Oswald, decked in the finest American attire for the nineteen forties that the Tardis could come up with, put her glass down on the glass and metal 'Bar of Tomorrow' and smiled at the blonde woman next to her. "Do you really think that?"

"Of course I do!" The girl was light and bubbly, happy to have made a friend at the pop up bar inside the expo and it spilled over into her light southern accent. "My Daddy didn't want me to have nothin' to do with workin', but once I told him it was my civic duty as an American to make sure our boys had bombs, well, he let me get a job." Janie shrugged. "I know so many girls who are smarter then just being secretaries and waitresses, don't you?"

Clara nodded solemnly, letting her finger slide around the top of her glass. It had never occurred to her when she had been young and in school learning about women's liberation that women had actually had conversations about going out to get jobs instead of staying at home. The conversation sent her a bit reeling, and she played Devil's Advocate for a moment just to see what her new friend would say. "But doesn't it bother you that the only reason it's happening is because of the war? Wouldn't you rather just stay home?"

Janie's face fell, a sad look sweeping over her eyes. "I help make bomb parts, so yeah, it does. But…" she sighed heavily, "but we've got to find our silver linings when we can."

"I can't help but overhear you two gorgeous ladies," a low voice said next to them, interrupting the feminist spiel that Clara was about to let streaming out of her mouth, "But would you mind indulging a boy going off to war for a moment?" He smiled brightly. "Bomb parts may not be all that glamorous, but they're much appreciated by us GIs."

Janie's eyes lit up as the man turned toward them, his dark hair and eyes, square face, and full military attire cutting an impressive form in the smoky and faux futuristic atmosphere around them. "Going off? When do you leave?" Her voice had taken on a flirtatious tone, low and sultry. Clara refrained from shaking her head at the drastic change in her new friend's manner.

He smiled at the two girls. "I ship out in the morning. Private Bucky Barnes, at your service." He tipped a mock salute at them, and Janie positively lit up. "May I ask your names, and perhaps refresh your drinks?"

Clara waved the bartender away before he could do more than turn at Bucky's words. "I'm Clara, and this is Janie. We appreciate your offer, but we were just on our way to see Howard Stark's newest invention." She watched the soldier's face fall and felt bad for him. She'd never had anyone close to her go off to war, but remembered her grandmother's stories, remembered the history books and movies. The poor boy was looking for a last fling, and she'd just ruined his night. That was something she couldn't let happen. She smiled up at him shyly. "That is- maybe you'd like to join us?"

Janie let her hand rest on Bucky's sleeve, his eyebrows rising slightly at the contact. "Oh, do!" She beamed up at him. "And then, well, I haven't got any plans for the rest of the night, have you Clara?"

The girl glanced at her expectantly, waiting. Clara couldn't tell what she was feeling, but she was excited to be here, in a time she'd always wanted to see, in a place she'd never been, accompanying a soldier for a night out. The conversation she'd had with the Doctor flickered to life in her mind.

"Go out. Have fun. Do whatever it is that you do when we do this, but do NOT be late." He bounced around the console, his spidery legs striding long circles as he flipped switches and scanned screens. "I want to make sure you haven't gotten yourself captured by Hitler, or Hydra, or by an overzealous GI." He poked his head around the long column and smiled at her, "Plus, no one should pass up the chance to see Howard Stark muck up a demonstration."

Clara shook her head, hiding a smirk, "How do you know he's going to muck it up?"

The Doctor hid back behind the column, mischief in his voice. "Because I'll be stealing back the little bit of alien tech he came across that makes it work."

Clara shook the memory out of her head. That exchange in the Tardis had only happened this morning, but it seemed ages ago. "Well, I just have to meet my… brother at the demonstration, but once I check in I'm free for the night." She hoped, at least. It wouldn't be abnormal of the boy in a bowtie to mess with her plans and need her help saving the world.

Bucky smiled and put his glass down, offering his arms to both ladies. "Fantastic. Shall we?" Janie took his arm quickly, but Clara smirked at him for just a moment before she moved, far too curious for her own good, as always.

"Private Barnes?" She gently laced her hand through the crook of his elbow, looking up at him as they left. He looked at her expectantly, navigating them through the Expo's walkway. "Was there more you were going to say earlier, when you interrupted us?"

He looked away, surprised and kept his eyes on the distance. "Oh, well. You see…" He cleared his throat and shrugged a little, "I was just gonna say that two gorgeous dames like you should only have to work if you want to, but you should have that right, if you want it." The words seemed truthful, but they were uncomfortable to him. Something about the way he said it, the timber of respect in his voice, called to Clara on a deep level. He might be flirting, looking for a good time before his night out, but he was a good man, too. "It's as good a thing to be fighting for, the right of the ladies back home to do what they want, right?"

His smile faltered at Janie's high-pitched twitter as she attempted to flirt. She was trying just a little too hard, and Clara and Bucky shared a glance of understanding as Janie leaned into Bucky so hard that Clara almost tripped off balance. "I think that's so noble of you!" He turned and looked askance at the blonde, trying to keep his smile from faltering.

Clara let her hand tighten around his arm for a moment, catching his eye again. "It's a very good thing to be fighting for," her voice drifted out to him softly, a hint of admiration sparking in her eyes, "for the freedom of everyone to do what they want with their lives."

He stopped them at a tall column, Uncle Sam looking down sternly at them from his poster. Bucky carefully dislodged Janie, his eyes glued to Clara's. "And," he cleared his throat, "what a silver lining that I meet two such beautiful ladies tonight. One," he smiled gently, "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Clara blushed despite herself, even if she could feel the frustration flowing off of Janie, "and the other, just the kind of dame that I think my best pal Steve would go nuts over."

Janie recovered quickly, batting her eyelashes. "Steve? Is he in the Army, too?"

Clara could help but notice the way Bucky avoided answering the question, the look on his face as hard to read as any she'd seen on the Doctor's countenance. "Steve's a swell guy. I'll go get him." He smiled with more sincerity right at Clara. "Don't you two go anywhere, you'll break my poor GI heart."

Clara smiled back, bouncing lightly on her toes. "We'll wait right here."

"Ha! Did you see that?" The Doctor strode up to her, all elbows, knees, tweed, and big, giant smiles. He leaned in to her conspiratorially, eyebrows dancing on his brow. "Told you he'd muck it up."

Clara shook her head and whispered harshly. "No, you mucked it up. Couldn't let him have it?" She'd been very excited to see a flying car, and almost forgotten what the Doctor had said until it started sparking.

The Doctor's face turned stern, his eyes narrowing as he nearly scolded her. "I've been trying to prove for decades that the Stark Dynasty from 1936 to the late 30th century has been stealing Time Lord Technology. Don't know how, don't know when, but I will figure it out." He shrugged, the darkness gone before he could even blink. "Plus, his son Tony will figure out retropulsion on his own. He doesn't need this. Back to Anaxtoptry 3 with it!" He spun a small bright orange microchip around in his palm before pocketing it again.

"You," Clara scolded lightly, "are incorrigible." She swayed a bit, looking over her shoulder at Bucky talking to his skinny friend Steve outside the recruitment office. It was a shame Steve was so frail. She figured there was probably a good guy in there somewhere, but he could hardly look her in the eye when he spoke to her, and positively cowered at Janie's advances. He was trying, that was for sure, but he didn't have any confidence in himself. Offering a peanut wasn't going to cut it when he could barely speak to her. She smiled as her eyes flashed over to Bucky. "I'm going dancing tonight."

The Doctor leaned back, looking cautiously at her. "Oh, you are, are you?"

Clara smiled at him, nodding. "Yes, with a soldier who is shipping out tomorrow. A perfect whirlwind wartime romance, if I do say so myself." The Doctor looked a bit put out at her excitement, his chin dropping and eyes looking toward his shoes. She pinched the Doctor's chin, beaming at him. "Aw, cheer up. I won't do anything stupid, and I'll be ready to go in the morning."

He leaned in close to her, far closer than he should have been. The whisper in her ear was harsh and foreboding. "Don't romanticize the lives of these soldiers. Your whirlwind evening of flirting is their last night before hell. I know you want to have fun, and I won't begrudge you that, but tread lightly. This time period is fraught with important moments, important seconds, important people. If one soldier is out of place, the whole thing could implode. Some moments can never change, no matter what we do, and others are tenuously held in time by the thinnest of threads. If you change something you shouldn't…" his eyes grew dark and sad, followed by a sweep of fear and rage that made Clara's stomach churn for a second. "Don't change something you shouldn't." He pulled away, his eyes a dark swirl of lifetimes so deep it scared her.

"I won't," she whispered, pulling tight into herself, her mind spinning with the possibility of changing anything so important it might scare him so much. Sometimes she forgot what a powerful being he was, how old he was. Sometimes she let that boyish charm fool her and she let herself forget that in the end, the Doctor was really nothing like her. "It's just dancing."

"Yes, well," he stood tall and collected himself, a slight smile quirking at the edge of his mouth. Just like that his rage was gone, and she could barely keep up with the pendulum swing of his mood. "That's what Rigel the Great said on Skatoon before the Great Mambo Wars. Led to the most epic dance battle in history, followed by genocide by beheading." His mirth made it impossible to tell if he was lying or not, but Clara was sure he'd tell her more later. "See to it that it is just dancing."

She looked over her shoulder to see Janie waiting for her and Bucky and Steve still talking only a few feet away at the recruitment office. "Besides," Clara took a slow step away as she spoke, attempting to recapture the mirth she'd felt a few short minutes ago, "Now you have more time to find out about Howard Stark." A devious look grew in her eyes. "What if he has Time Lord technology because he IS a Time Lord?"

The Doctor's face contorted as he began to laugh the idea off, but then it sharply stopped, his mouth closing as he considered, his eyes darting around as he thought, his hand dipping into the pocket where she knew he kept his sonic screwdriver. "Well, I'd know if he were a Time Lord…" His eyes grew bright with the thought of adventure and espionage before him, "but that doesn't mean he hasn't met one before!"

Clara laughed to herself as the Doctor ran off. "Well, he'll be meeting one now," she mumbled as she joined Janie once again.

Clara stood on the dock. She hadn't realize "shipping out" really meant on a ship. She and Bucky had danced the night away, sans Steve. They'd found Janie a nice, young recruit at the club they'd gone to, and she'd twirled across the floor all night flirting her little heart out with a redheaded boy who ate up each exaggerated smile.

After the club closed its doors they'd left Janie in good hands and walked down to the river, talking about nearly nothing. Clara understood the desire now, the need for these men to find one last companion, the need for the girls to fulfill that wish. It was intimate listening to someone's inane stories when you thought you might be the last soul they told them to. As the sun peaked over the horizon he'd stolen a kiss, and she gave him several more after that as the sky brightened from hazy purple to bright blue. She could still feel the stubble from his chin, her lips a little worn and swollen. He'd asked nothing more than kisses and a hand to hold, and she hadn't offered anything beyond that.

Clara knew she'd remember that moment forever, the sun rising over the river, the tall, broad soldier in her arms, giving her what might be his last goodbye kiss. He was a few dozen feet away now, rucksack over his shoulder and talking to Steve once again. She couldn't help but feel choked up, emotion making her heart pound as she tried to hold it back.

"Stark's not a Time Lord." The Doctor came up behind her, whispering in her ear. "He is bloody good fun though."

Clara shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes as she refused to engage the Doctor in the banter she knew he wanted to get into about his night with Stark. "Show some respect, these boys are leaving." Around them were people everywhere making last goodbyes: mothers hugging sons, wives hugging husbands, fathers hugging their children. It was almost more than she could bear. Bucky had given her his last kiss a few minutes ago, his voice heavy with regrets about things she might never know.

The Doctor straightened up behind her. "No disrespect meant. These men are about to go off to one of the worst conflicts in human history. I have nothing but respect for men who fight for what they believe in."

"I thought you didn't like war," Clara said, turning on him.

He shook his head, his joyful delight melting away to the serious core of his being, his eyes surveying the people round them. "War is a concept, an idea. Big men in heavily secured rooms that will never see the wrong end of a cannon declare war on each other. These men- these soldiers- they're the ones who have to die." He put his hand on her shoulder. "We should go."

She lifted her hand, holding his fingers tight to her shoulder as if he was steadying her. "Not yet." They were almost all on the boat now, Steve standing front and center, watching as the last few men, Bucky included, stepped off the gangplank and onto the ship. "Let them leave first. They shouldn't remember an empty dock."

She could feel the Doctor's solemn nod. "Quite right."

After a few moments the ship pulled away, and the soldiers slowly turned from the crowd and headed into the bowels of the ship one by one. The dock had begun to clear, and she imagined that it was too hard to watch them go- on both sides. Just as she began to leave, a familiar voice made her turn back.

"He's a good guy, Bucky."

She spun quickly, dropping the Doctor's hand as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. "Steve." She smiled at the man, his eyes were tired and tear filled, but they hadn't had a chance to fall yet. "Yes I-" she remembered the feel of Bucky's lips on hers, the way he looked at her in the moonlight. "He was," she corrected herself quickly, "He is."

Steve tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks for going with him last night. He wanted to have one last celebration but- well, it didn't seem like something I could celebrate."

Clara wasn't exactly comfortable with his gratitude, but she supposed that he didn't mean to come off as if she'd done anyone a favor. "I had a wonderful time, but I can see why you wouldn't want to celebrate."

"Do I know you?" The Doctor broke in, his voice light and high and shattering the solemn moment. "You seem very familiar." He was almost embarrassing at how he scanned Steve's face, getting too close and leaning into the small man's space.

Steve pulled back, baffled but polite. "No, I don't believe we've met. I'd remember your accent." He stuck out his thin, boney hand. "Steve Rogers."

The Doctor slowly took his hand and shook it, his voice lilting lightly. "Smith. John Smith." He laughed politely as they let go. "Right, I keep forgetting here we're the ones with an accent here. Good. Yes. Well. Clara?" He stood tall and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the girl expectantly.

"Time to go, yes." She nodded at the Doctor, reaching out to shake Steve's hand. "It was nice to meet you, Steve."

"Yeah, likewise." He shook her hand and watched them leave, his brow furrowed gently as they disappeared into the streets past the dock.

Clara was sure she could still feel his baffled gaze on her three streets away as they neared the Tardis. "What was-"

The Doctor waved his hands wildly. "No. No talking. In the Tardis first." He shoved the key in the lock, held the door for her, and slammed it shut. He turned and looked at her, his eyes dancing wildly.

A second later he was bouncing around the controls, smiling like a kid in a candy store. "I can't believe it!"

"Can't believe what?" Clara was undoing her heels, sitting on the step and waiting for the sound of the engines to kick in, her heart still heavy at the goodbye, annoyed at his happiness.

He laughed, bouncing up and down, not even attempting to put them into motion. "We just met him, BEFORE he became him!"

Clara picked up her heels, pulling the clips out of her hair with one hand, his joy infectious even though she didn't feel very inclined to be joyful. "What are you on about, you mad man?"

He slowed, staring at her and walking around the console to point his long fingers at her chest. "You danced with Bucky Barnes!"

A wide smile nearly split her face in two as warmth tingled up and down her spine. "I kissed Bucky Barnes. Your point?"

He leaned back, suddenly slow and cool, ready to impart the biggest secret in the world on her. "You just met Captain America."

Clara laughed at him, walking past and heading toward the wardrobe room. "Right, tell me another tall tale, Pinocchio."

The Doctor sputtered after her, his mouth running a mile a minute as he followed her through the Tardis and into the wardrobe room. "Don't you see what's just happened?"

Clara spun around, still walking backward toward the wardrobe. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor shook his head in disbelief. "You went out with Bucky Barnes, that was Steve Rogers, Captain America!"

Clara laughed and turned back, ascending the wardrobe stairs. "Bucky's skinny friend?" She snorted lightly. "No way. Besides, Captain America is a comic book character, propaganda!"

The Doctor leaned on the bottom railing, looking up to the loft. "No, he's..." He sputtered, spinning around and running a hand through his hair. "How can you not know this? You're a teacher!" His voice rose comically high.

Clara leaned over the top rail, rolling her eyes. "English! I teach English! Not History. Why can't you ever keep that straight?" Clara sighed. "It can't be real," she whispered, her voice changing as she thought about it. "I mean, it just can't…"

The Doctor didn't much know what to do when Clara started crying, so he took her straight home. Still dressed in her period dress and barefoot, she sat on her couch and cried into her hands.

The Doctor sat beside her, his hands fluttering around her shoulders. "I wish you could tell me why you're crying."

Clara shook her head and looked up at him, sniffing her tears away. "He dies." She sniffed, "They both do. Bucky first and then…"

"It's a war." His tone was soft, but strong, and he chose his words carefully. "A lot of men died." The Doctor gently laid his hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb up and down. "The 107th and the Howling Commandos are probably the most revered soldiers in history, saving so many people, and doing so many things to change history that they are fixed points in time. Captain America will always be lost; Bucky will always fall off that train. Their contributions are so important that should any single move that they made be changed it would be catastrophic. Sometimes time itself knows when it needs to be protected. They're protected; I saw it on that dock. From that morning on, their timelines can't be changed." He shrugged and looked at his watch with a slow smile. "Plus in about sixteen days, give or take, Steve's going to wake up again."

She reached out and gave his arm a halfhearted smack. "You can't wake up from dying." She wiped at her eyes.

The Doctor smiled at her, his hand sitting warmly on her shoulder. "When did I ever say that either one of them died."

"Why can't we help them?" Clara shouted from the open Tardis door, the dizzying drop below them not bothering her at all. They were perched, fairly precariously, on a building somewhere on 42nd street in Clara's near future.

"It's a fixed point in time, I'm afraid." The Doctor looked down and watched as alien cruisers whizzed past them, as the Hulk jumped from building to building tossing the invaders to their deaths, as Thor's hammer summoned lightning around them. "This event in New York must not, and cannot, be changed. It is the impetus for everything that's about to come."

"This is still in my future… why are you showing me?" Clara reached out and clasped the Doctor's arm as a giant, dragon like creature flew past them.

He wrapped an arm around her, the moment intimate even under the din of the explosions. He pointed with his other hand to the street where she could see the flash of a red, white, and blue shield. "To let you see the good he does. To let you see the man that became of that skinny boy."

She shook her head, jumping a little at the crash of thunder. "Bucky still dies, though. Steve will never get his best friend back."

The Doctor didn't have the heart to correct her as Iron Man streaked through the air below them.

Her uniform was itchy; the male GI issue assault clothes fit her frame oddly, as it did most of the women in the small group. Her heart was pounding, her stomach was in her throat and she wanted out, but Clara couldn't tear herself away. The room had nearly cleared but for herself, the Colonel, an MP by the door, and Agent Carter hovering over the Hydra control panel on the line with Steve. "One week this Saturday, the Stork Club." Agent Carter tried to keep her voice steady, but Clara had never seen the women so shaken, so scared. If she hadn't been working under her for the last three days, she would have thought Peggy was nicely giving a soldier some hope, but she'd seen the way Steve and Peggy looked at each other, had seen the gleam in Agent Carter's eye when she spoke of Captain America. She couldn't fathom the pain Peggy was in right now.

Clara wanted to cry. It was too much to listen to. She shouldn't be listening to Steve's last conversation before his accident, but this was what the Doctor wanted her to see, wasn't it? The need for Hydra's technology that was glowing warm in her pocket must have certainly been a ruse to get her to this moment. Sometimes she hated the Doctor- what was the point of his fantastic blue box if he let pain exist, if he didn't stop the hurt when he had the chance? She hated him most when he forced her to watch, when he made her confront the reality of the things that must be in order for the universe to move forward. Life was messy and hard, and she knew that, but it didn't mean she wanted to see it.

She absolutely didn't want to see this strong, amazing woman break down before her.

Clara was ushered out of the room by the Colonel just as she heard the transmission cut out mid-sentence.

Just like that, Captain America was lost to the world…

…and Peggy Carter.

Clara threw the glowing blue orb at the Doctor. "Don't you ever do that again!"

He caught it in a juggle, pocketing it swiftly with a carefully blank look on his face. "Tell me what I did and I will certainly try to avoid it."

Clara stalked over to him, her military SSR uniform crisp and neat, her eyes red rimmed. "You knew what you were sending me into."

His head bounced on his shoulders. "Mostly, yes. Find Hydra, steal back what they are not supposed to have." The Doctor shrugged. "They weren't going to let ME in there. Plus," he looked her up and down, "I don't look that good in army issue. Good, but not that good. "

Clara huffed and stepped away, pacing right back to get in his face. "You made me her subordinate, that was the cover you gave me. Peggy Carter. Do you know that name too, huh?"

"Whose Peggy? Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR, that's who you were- Oh! Peggy! She-" His face dropped. "Oh. Oh no."

Clara shook her head, but held back the tears. "Oh, yes." She slowed, circling the console. "I was in the room when he took over that plane. I heard what he said to her. I saw them together. They loved one another." She leaned into the console, her forehead touching the rim of it. "They loved one another and he's up there…"

He went to her, a hand resting next to hers on the console, very nearly touching. "We can't save him. That happens in seventy years. We can't change that." He stared at her back, recognizing the hitching breaths of her attempting not to cry. "I didn't mean to do that to you. I know it's hard to believe me, but I didn't."

She nodded, standing. "Can we-" she caught her breath, and cleared her throat. "Can we give them one thing, then?"

Peggy Carter had her gun drawn, hiding behind her back as she opened the door only a few inches. In the hall was a young woman, brown hair in tight pin curls and a small smile on her lips. She was in civilian clothing, but Peggy knew that didn't mean much. Her memory kicked in and she knew why she didn't seem to like her in civilian garb- she'd been under her this past week at the SSR, a last minute transfer order that had rubbed Carter the wrong way. They didn't do last minute transfers in the SSR.

"Agent Carter?" the girl whispered. Clara, Peggy thought to herself. "Can I have a moment of your time?"

Peggy nodded and opened the door a little wider. She'd been getting ready to go to bed, her roommate thankfully gone. Even with the negative feeling in the pit of her stomach, Peggy couldn't help but be curious. "Come in." Peggy kept the gun in hand, but pulled her finger off the trigger and hid it behind her back. "I seem to remember you, but I don't remember inviting you to my home."

Clara nodded. "I was temporarily under you at the SSR." She held out her hand. "Clara Oswald."

Peggy slipped the gun from her hand to the counter behind her and shook her hand politely. "How did you find me? Or, why, rather?" A thousand reasons swirled in Peggy's brain, but none seemed to make a single lick of sense.

Clara twisted her hands in front of her, her lips pursed tight. "Agent Carter, you've seen some unbelievable things in your time, correct?"

Peggy side eyed the woman. She seemed open, honest, but she was hiding something. Yet, Peggy knew how hard it could be to be the woman in a boys club, and didn't want to rule out that a new recruit simply needed someone to listen. "Yes," Peggy carefully replied, her memory clearing. The new girl was trying to talk to her, but she could have none of it. Steve was dead in the arctic somewhere and this girl wanted to hug. No time for sadness, Peggy was a soldier. She had to tell his men. She had to carry on. It was only a week ago. Only a week ago that this woman who was barely in the SSR for any time at all had been in that room and heard the worst conversation of her life. Peggy reached behind her and put her fingers on her pistol, her gut twisting. "Why are you here?"

Clara smiled in a way that both calmed Peggy and made her quake with nerves. "You have a date on Saturday. You should keep it."

Peggy pulled the gun, pointing it in Clara's face, starting her into jumping back. "Why are you here?"

Clara gulped, putting her hands up and backing away. "I can promise you, Steve will keep your date."

"Steve Rogers is dead. He won't keep it." Peggy took a deep breath, her voice shaking but her hands steady. "And you're very rude for eavesdropping." Carter paused a second, taking a deep breath. "Are you Hydra?"

Clara's face fell in sadness and disappointment. "No, I'm not Hydra. I'm not SSR, or any army. I'm- I-" Clara stood her ground, even with her entire body shaking. "Agent Carter, I can't tell you how, but-" She stopped, tried to steady herself, and tried again. In all her travels with the Doctor, she'd never had anyone hold a good old-fashioned gun so close to her face. "If there's any hope in you, any belief in forces beyond yourself that you can't understand, go." Clara nodded, her eyes big and hopeful. "I promise, he'll be there."

The tiniest tremor was visible in Peggy's hands now, just a twitch of the gun. "What- what is this? Why are you here?"

Clara took a chance and stepped forward, and Peggy lowered her gun, just enough to keep it ready, but also enough to let Clara move back toward the door. Clara carefully turned to keep Peggy in sight as she backed up, her hands spread wide. "Think of it as a wish. I can't bring him back, but I can give you that night, I can grant that wish. Just be there, ok?"

Peggy nodded, tears pooling in her eyes, gun still at the ready. Clara smiled softly as she slipped out the door, leaving as mysteriously as she'd come.

Peggy rushed to the door, searching the hallway for the woman. There wasn't even the sound of a footfall, a swinging door to follow. It was if she hadn't been there at all. Peggy rushed back into her apartment and leaned her back against the door, her heart pounding as she gulped for breath. She wasn't prepared for that conversation, she wasn't prepared for these emotions. She slid to the floor, tears slipping down her cheeks in grief that she still hadn't let herself feel.

Peggy Carter was wearing a long silver dress that hugged her like a second skin. She'd bought it on a whim in the early days of the war, promising herself she'd find a place wear it when the war had ended as a celebration of sorts. Being a woman in the SSR wasn't easy- it required her to hide some of the things she loved about herself to fit in, to prove that she was just as worthy as any man, and this dress had represented a chance to let those attributes out of hiding when the time came.

Tonight seemed like a much more important event. At least, if her mysterious visitor had been right, it could be.

She sat at the table in the back corner, resisting the urge to check her hair in her compact again, trying hard to keep from biting her lip and messing up her lipstick. She drank the gin and tonic to calm her nerves, to keep her stomach from flip-flopping. She'd wanted to be standing at the bar, easy to avoid looking stood up when he didn't show up, but she found that her legs shook too much with the hope that despite everything she knew he might walk through the doors at the back of the room.

She didn't know how Clara knew, or what it was about the woman that made her want to trust that Steve could be here tonight, but she did. All of the pain of her loss, the sadness over missed opportunities and "what ifs" had pivoted to hope that night Clara had shown up at her door. For three days she'd allowed the hope to build, allowed herself to believe in a possibility that she wouldn't have believed in prior to seeing Doctor Erskine's serum work.

Steve was already impossible, it wouldn't surprise her one bit for him to do one more impossible thing.

She scanned each entrance, looking through the club goers dancing to the band at the head of the dance floor. Every person was looked over twice and categorized; each door was examined and noted for entrances, exits, and use in emergencies. Every little thing around her had been checked over and rechecked for how she could use it as a weapon if things went wrong and it was a trap. She couldn't rely on reaching the tiny handgun in her purse. She was hopeful, but she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't put it past Hydra to try to use her emotions against her.

She was scanning through the doors again when the one directly across the room opened. Her breath caught as she saw the hair, his eyes, the serious purse of his lips breaking into the brightest smile she'd ever seen him wear. Steve. He was here.

She stood, wanting to run to him, wanting to shout and knock everyone between them to the floor to even be close to him, but she couldn't make her legs move from the spot. Her hands shook as she fisted them, her brain forcing her to think it could be just a trick of her mind.

It wasn't, and she knew it. She knew by the way he moved, by how he was coming right towards her, how his clothes seemed right and not quite right at the same time- the waist on his pants a little lower and the cut of his shirt a little odd. It was a wish- it was Wish Steve- but he was her Steve. She knew it. He took long, even strides toward her table in the back, into the shadowed corner she'd picked for so many reasons. He stopped a foot away, his hand reaching out but stopping short of touching her. "Peggy…"

Clara and the Doctor watched carefully from the second story railing, Clara swaying happily to the slow big band music, a huge smile on her face. "So, how'd you do it?" The Doctor's question drifted in one ear and out the other, Clara focused intently on the pair below them as Peggy reached out and took Steve's hand, a smile nearly breaking her face in two, her eyes shining bright with tears. Clara couldn't hear the words exchanged, but she could see the emotion written plainly on their faces.

Peggy's right hand reached out and gently ran down Steve's chest, confirming he was real. Clara sighed, "Do what?"

Steve lifted Peggy's hand in his and kissed her knuckles. The Doctor played with his bowtie, watching the pair just as closely as Clara, though betraying no emotion as to how he felt about the reunion. "How did you get her here?"

Clara looked at the Doctor, uncomfortable watching as Peggy and Steve crashed into each other, hugging tightly. "Told her I could grant her a wish. You?"

The Doctor smiled and stood tall. "Knocked him out with a thirty-second century Galaxos Nebula Filty Beatle. Nasty thing, but I had to go big with that guy."

"Liar." Clara pushed his shoulder and looked back at the pair, still holding one another, though now more in an embrace than crushing hug.

The Doctor shrugged, turning his back to the railing to lean on it. "Yeah, I am. I told him he could see Peggy." The Doctor shook his head. "Didn't take much convincing after that."

Clara leaned her head on the Doctor's shoulder, unable to look away just yet. "You can't let them remember it, can you?"

"I won't make them forget, if that's what you're asking." The emotion in his voice was strong, just for this moment. "They'll think it was a dream."

Peggy leaned back in Steve's embrace, afraid to let go, but unwilling to go another second without seeing his face, to etch this moment in her memory. "How?" she asked, still breathless with her heart pounding against her ribs.

He lifted a hand, running the back of it down her cheek. "It's such a long story… I don't see how you could believe me." He couldn't stop smiling, the joy filtering into his words, light and airy, like he couldn't be bothered with doing anything but looking at her.

Peggy leaned into his hand as it cupped her jaw. "I want to hear every word."

"Wouldn't you rather dance?" Steve glanced at the dance floor, couples swaying to the slow, yearning sound of a trumpet.

She smiled, taking his hand in hers and stepping back. "Let's do both." She led him to the dance floor and nestled them in the darkest, quietest corner of it that she could find. She turned to him, her eyes lidded and a small smile hinting at the edge of her lips.

Steve held his arms out in front of him, then laughed and shook his head, his cheeks brightening red even in the dark. "I still don't know how to do this. All the things that have changed…" his voice grew deep with emotion, "and I haven't danced with anyone."

Peggy bit her lip, taking his hands in hers and placing one around the swell of her hip and holding tight to the other against his chest as she stepped into the pose. "What were you waiting for, Captain? The right partner?"

He shook his head and gently let his forehead fall next to hers, their temples touching softly. "My only partner. My best girl." He sighed, clutching at her waist. "Peggy, so much has happened."

She shook her head. "I almost don't want to know. Your clothes are… I know that you're not the 'you' I spoke to a week and a half ago. I know that. But-" She buried her head in his chest, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of his non-general issue soap and cologne, the sharp tinge of aftershave, the unfamiliar softness of his shirt, "You're real, aren't you, Steve?"

He let go of her hand and threaded his fingers through the waves of her hair, holding her close as they swayed lightly to the music. "I am. I'm here. I'm real." He huffed out a light laugh. "I keep asking myself the same thing about you."

Peggy leaned back, her eyes bright with the unshed sheen of emotion and hope fulfilled. She slipped her hand from his chest to the back of his neck, sliding her fingers through his longer hair for a second before gently pulling his head towards her.

Their kiss was soft, less surprising than their first, but filled with a deep need and desperation that made them breathless quickly. Steve kissed her with the unschooled enthusiasm that she expected, but the stiffness of his lips yielded under hers quickly. She pulled away and pressed her forehead to his to catch her breath, their noses caressing in an effort to keep the intimate contact. "This is real," she breathed, her lips barely ghosting on his.

He kissed her quickly, barely a peck. "Yes, it is."

"I want you to tell me, I want you to tell me everything, please." Her command was harsh, quick and desperate, born out of the desire to not waste a second of her time with him. She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "I want to know how we're standing here, so I can remember it for the rest of my life."

"We only get one night, right?" He asked, the sadness barely hidden under his optimism. At her nod he continued, "Then we better make the most of it."

They stayed in their corner, swaying to fast and slow songs alike. She cried silent tears when he described the fight on the plane. "It wasn't that bad Peggy, really, it wasn't." He gently caressed her cheeks, moving the tears away from her eyes. "I had you with me."

Her eyes overflowed, and she hid her face in his chest. "Steve, we left you out there… we could have tried harder. The expedition team could only stay out for four days before they were called back, Howard put up a fight, but still…"

He held her tight. "I don't remember anything from the crash. Not a thing. One second I was talking to you, and then I woke up."

"When did you wake up, Steve?" She asked, stepping out of his arms to collect herself. Steve handed her a handkerchief then stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I- I mean I know," Peggy dabbed at her eyes as she continued, embarrassed at the tears, "and I don't understand how, but I need to hear you say it. I need to hear it…"

He looked at the floor, the sound of the band and the people around him fading into nothing. "Seventy years. I woke up… I'll wake up seventy years from now."

Her gasp of emotion hurt him like a physical blow. When he looked up she was clutching his handkerchief so hard her hands were turning white. "How? How did you get here tonight?"

"Come here." He held out his arms, waiting for her. He can feel the eyes on them, the couples around them were staring at the crying woman and the distraught man. His soldier's intuition told him that they were drawing too much attention. But they came here to dance, and dance they would. She stepped back into his embrace and he was careful to hold her tightly without using the strength he'd come to rely on. "I don't know that I believe it myself, but-"

"You traveled through time." She said it so perfunctorily, so plainly as she wrapped her arms back around Steve that it almost lost it's improbability.

"I traveled through time." Steve took the handkerchief from her hand around his waist and used it to dab at her eyes, erasing each and every dark mascara streak that she'd missed. He let his hand rest under her chin. "I don't know how much I should tell you after that. It could be dangerous." He slipped the handkerchief back in his pocket before reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "The man who brought me- well, he told me I shouldn't say too much."

He wrapped his arm around her again and started to sway them gently back and forth. After a moment he couldn't take the silence anymore, he couldn't take the darkness that had crept between then, the fear and sadness of the limited amount of time they had together. "You know," he cleared his throat speaking with more confidence than he felt. "I'll still probably step on your toes. I'm sure you've got swell shoes on, I wouldn't want to ruin them."

Peggy laughed. It was thready and light, but it was a laugh. She shook her head, the words of a week ago caching in her throat. "I can teach you."

Steve smiled down at her. "Good. Lesson one, go."

She taught him a box step, which he caught on to quickly, and a waltz, which he didn't and led to more laughter than dancing, but it was the nicest when they just swayed to the music, standing in their own little corner, whispering things in one another's ears. After a while, though, her swell shoes got the best of her after too many months in army issue, and they retreated to the table in the corner.

Steve pulled her chair out for her, sliding the second chair around the table to sit close to her side. He took Peggy's hand in his and held it gently, running his thumb over the back of her fingers. "I never thought it would be so wonderful, or so sad."

Her other hand landed over his. "What, Steve?"

"Dancing with you." He shook his head and leaned close to her, his eyes sparkling. "Every time I went out I had that compass with me, with your picture in it. At night I'd look at it and figure out where you were. Six-hundred miles, eighty seven degrees due north, or some such thing, and I'd just think about what would happen when I hung up the shield. When we'd captured Hydra." He closed his eyes, his face softening as he remembered. "I'd think about taking you dancing, to that little bistro around the corner from the bar, or here, and you'd be wearing that red dress and I'd be in my best shirt and I'd step all over your feet." He shook his head, his eyes opening with a self-deprecating smile. "What does it say about me that half the time my own fantasy ended with you leaving me alone on the dance floor for being a helpless oaf?"

Peggy shook her head, a tiny laugh playing on her lips "Not anything that's true about you, that's for one." She smiled coyly, bringing her lips to his ear. "But I'd much rather hear about the other half of the time…"

When she pulled away she could see the blush creep up Steve's cheeks, even in the dark. He took a breath, a polite retort flittering over his tongue, then a salacious one, the flicker of each thought about what he could say shining in his eyes before the glimmer disappeared and a serious line settled between his lips. "Peggy, we can't…"

Peggy shook her head, the downturn catching her off guard. "Can't say the things we've wanted to say?" She pressed her forehead to his. "It will hurt tomorrow, I know. It will hurt just as bad, if not worse than that night I spent lying awake, thinking of you freezing to death in some godforsaken ocean." She sighed heavily, threading her hands around his neck. "But we have tonight. We don't have to…" she turned away and chose her words carefully, before turning back and holding him tighter. "We don't have to indulge in anything you don't want to do- going too far would… would hurt more. I know. But-" She leaned back, her jaw set just as square as any time she gave him an order in the SSR, "But I'm not giving you up until I have to."

Peggy squared her shoulders as she stood, purse in hand. "Take me home, Steve."

"Where are they going?" Clara asked, scurrying down the steps, trying to keep the pair in sight.

The Doctor lagged behind her, bouncing down the stairs in his own time. "I may not be the biggest Don Juan, who actually wasn't even named Juan just for your information, but even I know where they're going!" He leaned into her space as they reached the ground floor, his eyes dancing with mischief. "They're going to canoodle. The old in and out. A nice shag."

Clara pulled away, disgust on her face. "That's lewd!" She pursed her lips and walked away, out of the club. "You're lewd. They are not going to-"

"What? Make love? Just because it's the 1940's and he's Captain America?" He followed her out into the back alley, the Tardis sitting quietly by the door. He leaned back against it. "Sexual intercourse for sport has been happening since the beginning of time, with all kinds of races all across the universe. What makes you," he pointed haughtily at her, "think they're any different?"

Clara shrugged, squirming in her skin as her eyes bounced around the alley. "Well, I…"

The Doctor pushed off the Tardis. "Either way it's none of our business, don't you think?" He swung his legs in wide circles as he ambled up to her. "We've been watching them all night to make sure something catastrophic doesn't happen. It hasn't. It won't. We'll park the Tardis outside of her apartment building and have a good nap."

"All of a sudden you're ok with this? After all the convincing I had to do and the 'Clara, the time lines won't stand for it' nonsense?" She eyed him warily, her chin tipping side to side. "What's changed?"

"Nothing," he answered too quickly, his hands dropping to clasp behind his back, his voice growing soft and low. She knew something had changed, more than whatever he was about to tell her. "But I've seen them as people now, and it's reminded me…" He sighed and looked at his feet. "I'd do anything to have one more day, one more hour, with the people I love, Clara, nearly anything. They deserve their privacy." After a second, he looked up and shattered his heartfelt confession by winking. "Canoodling or not."

Clara shook her head as she headed to the Tardis. "You're awful, you know that."

"Yup, awful. That's me. Destroyer of Worlds, Oncoming Storm, and Awful." He unlocked the Tardis and swung the door open for her. "I shall have to add that to my resume."

"It's not much, at least not now." Peggy unlocked the door to the small London flat, holding it for Steve. He looked askance at the act, but moved forward into the space, anyway. 'Sometimes you held the door for Peggy Carter, sometimes she held the door for you,' he thought, and he didn't mind that.

"It's… cozy." Steve smiled awkwardly as he stepped into the room. It was little more than enough space for a bed, dresser, and hot plate on a side table, with a chair and a door to what the assumed was the bathroom off to the side.

"It's rubbish, but it's also home. At least for now." Peggy shrugged and moved past Steve, sliding between him and the bed to turn the small lamp and hot plate on. He didn't need to know that she shared it with two other female SSR agents, or that she's bribed them to stay out for the night with her ration of sugar for the next month. "Tea?" She bit her lip, almost as nervous now as she had been in the club, though this time she couldn't pinpoint the reason.

His hands fidgeted at his sides "Yeah, sure. That would be nice." He looked around the small room, the neatly made bed, the tiny space, and couldn't quite decide what to do with himself.

"I, um-," Peggy smiled tightly, pointed to the bathroom door and slid between Steve and the bed again, rounding to the other side of the room. When she opened it he could see a toilet and sink squeezed close, with no shower or tub in sight. When she turned she caught his expression, and shrugged as she filled up the kettle. "There's a communal one downstairs, but I prefer the ladies' locker room at the base."

"Right, yeah, I didn't mean to-" He shuffled out of the way as she rounded the room again, setting the kettle on the hot plate.

"It'll take a few minutes, it's pretty slow to heat up." She kept her back turned to him, busying herself with pulling the tea and cups from a drawer, leaning on the side table and looking at his reflection in the window. "At least with the rations we can still get a descent cup of tea, though if you like it sweet- well, you haven't been gone all that long enough to forget, have you?"

Her voice stayed in the air, hanging in the space between them that seemed to get bigger and bigger with every moment. "Peggy, I-" Steve's voice caught in his throat as he rubbed his hands up and down the sides of his thighs, trying to calm sweaty palms.

Peggy forged on, trying to fill the silence that seemed to plague them since they left the club. "I had some milk until it spoiled yesterday, and the next ration won't come through for another day or so…" She didn't finish the sentence, it just trailed off between them as they both stared at the kettle.

Steve broke the silence with his quiet confession. "I knocked out Hitler over 200 times. I fought Hydra. I crashed a plane into the arctic." Peggy froze, hands gripping the side of the table as steam slowly began to float out of the kettle. She could feel him move forward behind her, coming so close she could almost touch him if she'd turned. "I did all those things, carried that shield, hell, I even 'danced' in a kick line!" Peggy smiled sadly, and they locked eyes in their reflection in the window. "But apparently I can't remember to tell my best girl that she looks beautiful when we're out on a date." He slid his hands over her hips, his lips slipping closer to her ear as he whispered. "You look gorgeous, Peggy."

She leaned back into his chest, the bulk of him comforting, the awkwardness of the last few minutes slowly diminishing. "Thank you, Steve."

"Like a movie star. I couldn't have dreamed up anything as to-" he sighed and let his chin rest on her hair, their eyes locked in the reflection. He would have to remember this moment- he didn't have a camera, but he could draw it when he returned home. "You're always beautiful, Peggy. Inside and out."

Her hands slid to rest on his, and he started the gentle side-to-side dance that had been so soothing back in the club. "Take it easy, soldier. All these compliments will go straight to my head." It was light, easy again for a moment.

They swayed quietly, content with simple contact until the kettle whistled. They parted and the sound of the cups and their mismatched saucers filled a silence that was far more companionable than it had been moments ago. Peggy smiled, then fluttered her eyes closed after she handed Steve his tea. "I hate that this seems so hard."

He held the tea with two hands, looking into the swirling leaves as they settled as if they could truly divine his future. "Me too."

Peggy let out a shaky breath, taking a sip before putting it down. She took the tea from Steve's hands as well, even though he hadn't yet tasted it, and put it next to hers. "I suppose I'll never have another chance to say this, so I might as well." She took his hands in hers and held them tight, the returning squeeze he gave her as they locked gazes, bolstering her courage. "Steve I-" She shook her head and tried again. "We never did have the chance to do any of this properly. And, well, we won't." She took another deep breath, banishing the sadness that her words brought up. "But you must know, Steve, that it was never what was in the serum that drew me to you." She untangled her right hand and let it drift down over his chest, reminiscent of the touch that she so desperately wanted to make once upon a time. "I was half in love with you before you stepped into that contraption: your courage, your bravery, your smile. Given the right time and the right place, it would have all gone so different."

Steve covered her hand on his chest, trying to calm the shaking he heard in her voice. "Peggy, you don't have to-"

"But I do," she interrupted. "I do because I need you to understand that it was never about the muscles, or how far you could run, or the strength it gave you. Those things- they protected you, and they are a part of you so I love them as well but-" She looked up, biting her lip for a second. "But I really fell in love with the man who jumped on a grenade for me, who used his brain instead of his brawn to bring down that flag, who- who waited for the right partner and then decided I might be her."

"You are her, Peggy." He tilted his head down, letting his forehead rest on hers. "You are the right partner for me."

"I love you, Steve Rogers," Peggy whispered against his lips.

He kissed her slowly, a gentle and soft promise. "I love you, Peggy Carter."

"What are you doing?" Clara asked, swinging her legs over the side of the grating and looking down to the lower level of the room.

The Doctor sighed, lifting his head from the portable console he had been reading. "Are you really that bored?"

The look she gave him left no room for argument. "We've orchestrated what is perhaps the most romantic event in history and no one, including us now, will know what happens."

"You're a terrible busy body," the Doctor accused, shaking his head with a smile. "You could always read one of any number of the histories on them, the autobiography of Steve Rogers, the complete history of the SSR, all in the library, you know." He shook his head at her. "That's what I'm doing- researching."

Clara stood and tried to peek over his shoulder, but the swirling Gallifreyan made no sense to her. "I thought you knew everything about everything."

"I'm flattered," he said sweetly as he went back to his reading, "but not quite. Just catching up on Miss Carter and Mr. Rogers here. Always have to be prepared."

"Be prepared. Yes. Right." Clara sighed; sure that he was still hiding something. She quickly brightened as she got an idea. "Be prepared! Doctor, do you think the Tardis has the Lion King in its movie data banks? I could use a little entertainment."

"Offer her the history of the world and she chooses a Disney cartoon," he muttered under his breath. He looked up at her, hurt. "Of course she does! You think we'd be missing a cinematic masterpiece such as the Lion King?" He clicked his teeth in disapproval. "Of course, you'll have to specify which version you want."

"Well, how many are there?" Clara stood and turned to go down to the viewing room, her voice telling him she clearly couldn't imagine that film being remade that much.

"We have all two hundred and thirteen remakes."

"I wish I could tell you about the future," Steve said as his hand traveled up and down her arm. They were cuddled close together facing one another on the small bed, Peggy tucked tight into his larger frame, their dress clothes rumpled but still intact.

She hummed and smiled, tracing the tiny stitches on the seam of his shirt. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Well, if you're going to torture me-!" His joke was light and good-natured, but she rose upon her elbow, staring him down in mock indignation.

"I never!" She playfully tapped his chest, letting her hand rest there.

"Every day," he said, exaggerating, then softening his words with a wistful memory. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. "Every day I'd see you with those skirts and those lips and that smile- it hurt to look at you some days and know what I wanted to say to you, what I wanted for us, and wonder if you wanted the same."

Peggy rested her arms over his chest, leaning her chin down on her folded hands. "I always did. Why do you think I showed up that night in the bar with that red dress on? Hardly army issue, that." She winked at him, no longer able to hide her smile.

Steve mocked a wince, biting his lip. "You know, I never quite knew until just now if that dress was for me or not."

Peggy laughed, smacking his arm gently and rolling back to his side. "Helpless, you are!" She shook her head as she shimmied close. "Of course it was for you."

"Well, it could have been for any of those guys." Even though he was joking, she could hear a hint of the skinny man in that car, those self-deprecations never fully gone, the doubt always simmering deep inside.

"Never. Never for one second." She looked up at him, draped on her bed, and tried to etch this wonderful moment into her memory. It would be all she had left come the morning. "Come on, soldier, who do you think this dress is for?"

Steve made a show of looking it over, a silly apprising face on as he slid his hands over the lines of it, over the sequined planes of her body, making her breath come just a little faster before he was done. "Well, based on the color, the style…" His eyes danced with mischief. "The Colonel. Absolutely the Colonel."

Peggy laughed. She laughed harder than she should have. It was a silly joke, but it was a release. She felt him chuckle under her and she wrapped her arms around him tight. "Not much use for that sense of humor in the battle field, I guess."

"No," he answered, the mirth still wrinkling the skin at his eyes, "not really."

"I wore it for you," she whispered. She rolled her eyes and smiled, "and because I like it. But it reminds me of you."

"Me?" His eyebrows knit together as he ran his fingers over the fabric draping along her upper arm.

"The Star Spangled Man." She shrugged, embarrassed at her confession. "It may not be red, white, and blue, but it shines like a diamond in the rough. Just like you."

He kissed her. Gentle at first but more demanding with each second. She met each demand eagerly, her lips hungry for the feel of his, wanting to fill up on the heady sensation now. Peggy knew she'd have to get enough kisses tonight to last her a lifetime.

She knew there would never be enough.

He broke away, breathless. "Peggy…" he whispered, not saying so many things that needed voicing in that moment.

"I know, Steve," she whispered back as she hovered over him, "I know."

He flipped them over gently, her dress sliding up her thighs as she lifted them to wrap around his hips. It felt so right to be wrapped up so securely by him, to be below and around him like this. It was more intimate than she'd ever been with a man, despite the presumptions made about her by the other soldiers. She guessed the same was true for Steve, but it didn't much matter to her when it felt so right, his lips on her neck.

She'd thought about this moment so many times- fantasized, really, and done things that ladies were not supposed to do. The thoughts kept her warm in the drafty army tents and on lonely nights in this tiny room. But the reality, the reality was so much better.

Yesterday she'd gone down to the druggist and made a purchase, a purchase that sat quietly in the small bedside table to her left. The man at the counter had looked at her askance, and she assumed it was something men usually bought, but she didn't much care. They were there now if she wanted them.

She didn't know if she wanted them. Her legs hiking higher and higher on his hips, she let her mind imagine what it would be like to take that last step, to use them, to not use them.

The risk was too great to not use them, or to use them and for something to go wrong. It would break her heart to deny Steve the chance of seeing his child grow up, to force him to meet him or her in the future, grown, knowing what came from that night. Even if she would love and cherish a blue-eyed babe, she knew that she couldn't, that they couldn't. Even if the chances were slim to none, Captain Steve Rogers excelled at defying the odds. This night was proof of that.

She gently pressed his shoulders away, catching her breath and staring at his bewildered look. "You need to know that I want to…" Peggy's whisper was low and heavy, every desire she had contributing to that sentence.

"But we can't," he finished, nodding as he took slow, deep breaths.

She pulled him close, hugging him tight to her chest and hiding her face from him over his shoulder. "No," she whispered sadly, "we can't."

The thin drapes in Peggy's apartment did nothing to conceal that the sun was starting to peak over the horizon. They'd talked all through the night, their tea cooling on the sideboard as she told him of how she worked her way into the SSR, and how she hoped her parents would have been proud of the woman she'd become after they'd died.

Steve told Peggy about his adventures growing up with Bucky, wincing every now and then when the image of Bucky plummeting just out of his grasp resurfaced in his mind. Peggy's warm embrace made the pain pass sooner, but not any easier.

Peggy regaled him with tales of all the women she'd caught Howard with, why she would personally never 'fondue' with the man, and about the one USO girl that seemed to have caught his eye in a much more serious way recently. She told him about funeral they'd had for Steve Rogers, and how the SSR had held auditions for a new Captain America for the films.

Their conversation passed from heavy and painful to silly and light, back and forth all night as the minutes ticked into hours, which slowly ticked into the dawn.

When the first orange rays poked through the drapes he held her tighter. "I'll have to go soon."

She nodded into this side, her arm wrapped tight around his chest. "I won't say it, but you know what I'm thinking."

"I'm thinking the same." To say it out loud, to voice how much he wanted to stay, would only make it harder. "I wish you could see the future, Peggy."

"I will," she mumbled, holding back the tears. "It'll just take me a little longer to get there."

He rolled to his side and wrapped her tight in his arms. "I'll find you. When I get back I'm going to find you."

"I'll wait," she whispered, tears thickening her voice. "You're the right partner, Steve."

"I'm gonna come back to you, but you can't wait for me." He took a deep breath and tucked her tight under his chin so she couldn't see his tears. "Don't you dare waste your life waiting for me."

The knock on her door startled them both, but it was far from a surprise. "Downstairs when you're ready, Captain." The Englishman's voice was neither hurrying nor accusatory, but they both felt the same pang of frustration at hearing him through the door.

"Just another minute, Steve," Peggy whispered, shimmying her body as close to his as she could get. "Just one more minute."

"As many as I can," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Peggy watched from her window as he disappeared down the street. His clothes looking odd against the landscape, his shirt wrinkled in the back and his hair the only locks on the sparsely busy street not hidden by a hat. From her window she could see the shape of a lanky man that he stopped to talk to at the next corner, then followed.

Before he was out of sight he turned, just once more. She reached her hand out and placed it on the glass, holding in the tears that she knew would come. She didn't want his last view of her to be like that.

His wave was awkward, shy, just like he had been when she first met him, but his smile was sad, just like hers. She stayed there until she couldn't see him anymore, then slowly sat in the chair beside her.

Her stockings were twisted and her garter belt was pinching. Her dress had chafed the skin under her arms and she was sure her make up was simply a fright, but she didn't care. She mindlessly stripped down to her slip and slid into her bed.

She could still smell him. Peggy took a deep breath and tried to memorize the smell, tried to commit each note of the unfamiliar aftershave and the sweet shampoo to memory, but each breath got shorter and tighter until she was hitching with sobs.

He was gone, and nothing would change that now.

Steve stood at the rail, holding on tightly with one hand. Even though he barely knew the man, The Doctor seemed uncharacteristically quiet. The flight, or whatever they were doing to travel though time, still made Steve uneasy. He kept his one hand one the rail, even as he rounded the console to confront the man. "We've met before."

"Have we?" The Doctor deflected, but poorly.

Steve stared him down, waiting for a reaction. "At The Stark Expo. I didn't look like I do now, though. You were traveling with your sister."

"Never had a sister, nope. Not a one." The Doctor avoided looking at the man, instead focusing on flipping switches that seemed to be nonsensical and useless. "Got a familiar face is all."

"Right," Steve shook his head. He'd hoped for answers, but maybe that was asking just a little too much. "How long will it take for-"

"We're here." The Doctor interrupted. He walked the long way around the console to avoid passing Steve, then opened the door, swinging it wide to reveal Steve's New York apartment.

Steve walked slowly to the doors, taking one last look at the cavernous room within the small blue box, landing lastly on the lanky man in the red bow tie. He had so many questions, so many suspicions, and yet, there was only one thing he wanted to say. "Thank you."

The man seemed surprised, but he stood tall and held out his hand to accept Steve's proffered sign of thanks. "You're welcome, Captain Rogers."

Steve stepped from the box, turning to watch the door close, and stared hard at each molecule as they disappeared from being. He was left staring at his window, the day dawning from purple twilight to orange. He stepped closer to it, the new world before him still unfamiliar in it's lines and ways, the lights and ads surrounding him a blinking beacon that he was not ever going to see her again. He reached his hand to the glass, pressing gently on it like he'd seen her do only moments before. "Peggy," he breathed, dropping his forehead to the windowpane. He let the tears fall as the sun rose.

It had only been a day, but it had felt like a lifetime. So many things Steve had thought of that he should have said, so many questions he had for her, so many questions he'd had for the man in the bowtie, yet all he could do was imagine the answers.

And he couldn't find her. Margaret Carter existed. He could find her name, her picture, references to her career and her retirement, but his promise to find her that had consumed his last twenty-four hours has gone unfulfilled. Her name seemed to evade him in the world, trails of where's she's been and what she'd done disappearing as he grasped at them.

He stared at the spot where the blue box had been with not even and imprint in the carpet as he looked up from his computer where another dead end was blinking accusingly at him. It was time to take this farther.

Steve picked up his phone and dialed a number that he generally avoided calling. When the voice came through on the other line he winced. "Captain Grandpa. Good to heard from you. Saw that publicity work you did for the DOD, nice stuff there."

"Tony," Steve greeted cordially. They'd worked together to save New York, and a begrudging friendship had started, but they still weren't on the best of terms. "Are you still connected into SHIELD's mainframe?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line and a quick sniff that signaled Tony had thought just a little too long about what he was going to say. "Is this a test? Because it feels like a test. Is Fury there with you?"

Steve sat on his couch, looking at the empty space by the window. "No, not a test. I actually- well, I need a favor."

"Oh," Tony sounded surprised, but more intrigued. "Ok, yeah. Um, what can I help you out with?"

Steve hesitated, still debating up to the last second if he should change his mind. "I was- I need to know if you ever came across anything in there about a man with a blue box. A Blue Police Box, actually." The silence stretched so long on the other end of the phone that Steve pulled it away from his ear, making sure they were still connected. "Tony? Tony are you there?"

"Yeah, um, I'm here. Listen, I think you should come over. Tomorrow. No, tonight. No, like now. Come over now." His voice had changed, a little higher, a little tighter, reminiscent of when they were fighting or when he was thinking out a pattern. Steve didn't know the man well, but he knew him well enough to know that he'd hit a nerve.

"You know what I'm talking about?" Steve stood and grabbed his jacket as he slipped on his shoes.

Tony sighed. "Surprisingly enough, I know a lot about what you're talking about. Get here."

"So my father had a book for everything," Tony began as they sat in his workshop. "He was meticulous about taking notes. Has notes on experiments, on you, on women, the works." Tony swiveled on his chair and dug through the cabinet behind him. "I found this notebook last year when I was digging through the last of some of his stuff."

Tony pulled out a well-worn notebook and handed it to Steve. "Usually his notes are all over the place, chronological, but all over the place. One page is a hyper drive reactor, the next page is the showgirl he slept with that night, and the next page is a recipe for oatmeal he ate the next morning. Every once a while there's a thing out of place, but it's almost always chronological, so you can stack the notebooks and have a record of his life."

Tony shrugged and sat back. "That notebook's chronological, but only covers one subject. Not a single other notebook of his is like that." Steve began to flip through the notebook as Tony grabbed a bag of blueberries from the table and bounced it back and forth in his hands. "Starting about two years before he gets into bed with Erskine, my father starts documenting 'The men in the box.' Encounter after encounter, with different men. He even sketched out their faces and the box is drawn in there, all with great detail."

Steve flipped through the pages as Tony stood and started pacing. There were pen and pencil drawings of men: old men, young men, in suits and scarves and all manner of dress. The big blue box was in there, too, colored in bright blue and black ink, taking up a page all it's own, surrounded by account after scribbled account of meetings.

"See, my father thought the men in the box were some kind of conspiracy, maybe even a rival company. He'd come up with an invention, one of them would show up, then, boom! Damn thing wouldn't work anymore. At first he thought they were stealing secrets, or his designs, but then he realized something that I thought was even crazier- until I read through everything and it almost made sense. He thought they were all the same damn person."

"This one," Steve opened the book and turned it, showing Tony the sketch of the long, large chinned man in the fez. "He's the one I saw."

"He comes back the most. He and my father even go drinking one night about five years after you go missing. Point being, the men all refer to themselves as the Doctor, and they all talk as if they know my father intimately." Tony turned swiftly and leaned on the table next to Steve. "You're telling me you met that guy?"

"Yeah. That Police Box showed up in my house, he came out and-" Steve stopped, unsure of how much he should say. On one hand, he thought Tony might just believe him. On the other, well, he knew how it sounded.

"Don't get shy now, Cap. What did he say? What did he do?" Tony leaned forward.

Steve stood, hitting the notebook against his palm in an anxious drumroll. "If I tell you-"

Tony straightened and threw his hands up, blueberries spilling to the floor behind him. "Stays between the two of us. It gets added to the book. This and suits- it's all I do now. Gotta- gotta keep the brain working these days."

Steve almost derailed the conversation to talk about the darkness in Tony's last words, but forged ahead. "He- He-" Steve shook his head. "He took me to keep my date with Peggy. In 1946. I was there with her. It was real."

"Time travel." Tony said, nothing moving, his eyes not even blinking. "He can travel in time." His hands fell to his sides. "He can travel in time and he took you back in time to keep your date with Peggy Carter?"

Steve looked down, sure that the man was going to laugh. "Yeah. That's what happened."

Tony laughed, but not in mirth. He threw his hands to the ceiling and spun around, talking to Dummy as he walked past him. "Time Travel! He can do that! They can- he can, I haven't decided where I am on that issue yet. I'm leaning towards a consortium." Tony turned to Steve and pushed him back towards the chair. "How long ago was this?"

"About 12 hours, give or take," Steve said, sitting slowly, "why?"

Tony rubbed his hands together. "Because I have a shit-ton of tests I want to run on you now."

"Well, it's nothing like I've ever seen before, and the decay rate isn't lining up with any kind of radiation in the known universe." Bruce Banner's voice was tinny and high pitched through the bad connection. Even with all of Stark's equipment, he could only do so much when the call was coming in from a first generation laptop held together by duct tape and a prayer somewhere in the middle of India.

"Yeah, I know," Stark stood and paced while Steve sat quietly, alternating his eyes between the small camera and the holographic image of Banner on the screen. "That's why I sent it to you. I've never seen it before. My dad never saw it before. It's-"

"Alien." Steve finished for him.

"Don't say that word." Tony bit the words out harshly. "Aliens have bony faces and giant dragon monsters. This guy has a fez."

Steve rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. The term "alien" brought a deep rumbling to the pit of his stomach, too.

The connection crackled as Bruce spoke up. "We met one kind of alien from one kind of world, Tony. Thor is an alien, too, you know."

Tony mumbled to himself, pretending to immerse his attention into one of his father's journals. "Why does everyone keep saying that word?"

"Because it's likely true." Banner let his calm demeanor slip for just a moment, getting stern with the other scientist. "You have to embrace the possibility. Or at the very least own up to the fact that no one knows what this is."

"Plenty of people know at least who this is, there are whole internet websites devoted to the man in the blue box." Tony's tone hadn't changed. He was annoyed and frustrated and wanted answers. He didn't even look up at the monitor. "I want to know more than they do."

"Look," Banner sighed, shrugging, "I'll throw it through some of my programs. Run the numbers. There's a chance we might be able to recalibrate a few instruments and find more energy signatures like this. Until then you can't walk the world with that modified Taser hoping that people turn purple when you get close to them. You got lucky on that one and you know it."

Tony smiled and raised his eyebrows playfully as he picked up a small black Taser and flicked it on, waving it around Steve's head. The air around Steve gave off a bright purple glow as Steve rolled his eyes. "Still a neat party trick, though."

"Call us if you get anything?" Steve implored, gently pushing Stark's Taser away from him, then combing his fingers through his static charged hair.

Banner nodded through the fuzzy connection. "Of course."

Tony drew concentric circles on a piece of paper as Steve watched, Bruce's hologram flickering in and out on the screen next to them. "This is ground breaking. This, I mean, it's astounding." Even Tony couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

"I've already got the paper half written." Bruce shook his head. "This could win us a Nobel Prize."

"I still don't understand what you mean by negative rate of decay." Steve pointed to the paper. Tony had called him twenty minutes ago and told him to get to his lab. It had been three days since they'd first started talking about the Doctor, and ever since Tony had constantly been in contact, asking Steve more questions than he could fathom. Since Steve had arrived Tony and Bruce had been spitting out formulas and ratios that made Steve's head whirl. He wasn't a dunce, but he wasn't anywhere near the level that Bruce and Tony were working at. "How does that even-?"

"It shouldn't," Tony answered, and put his pen down. "Negative rate of decay isn't even a good term for it- we're going to have to come up with a whole new vocabulary."

"This is literally the scientific breakthrough of the millennium." Bruce's voice was uncharacteristically happy, and the energy was infectious.

"Usually," Tony began, "When something is radioactive, we read the rate of decay backwards. We have this rock that gives off this much radiation, and we know it is capable of giving off this much, therefore it is this many years old."

"But because we have data from the SHIELD sensors around your apartment for the last month and a half, we were able to study all kinds of data, and it's just- ha!" Bruce laughed like a small child, giddy.

Steve didn't normally like feeling left out, but he knew this was big stuff, scientific theory that it would take him lifetimes to understand. It still felt a little disconcerting not understanding, though. "Guys…"

"Right. Ok, so," Tony pointed to the rings, covering up half of the circles with his hand. "This dot in here- pretend that's a… a thing. It gives off radiation on all different kinds of spectrums. Until that dot, that thing, exists, it can't give off radiation."

"Got it so far," Steve nodded.

"Now pretend that dot is the Doctor in his Blue Box. The blue box materialized in your apartment three days ago at approximately 8 pm, correct?" Steve nodded his head and Tony continued. "So we'd expect to see a consistent rate of energy decay from that point on."

"Oh, I can't. This is too amazing." Bruce was still hyped up on the other side of the screen, flipping through pages of data with a huge smile on his face.

"Go do some laps, Bruce, you're gonna bust out green in a minute." Tony shook his head, looking back at Steve. "We saw that. We have what we expected to see there. But we ran all the data we had because we could, and not only was there decay after he left, there was a build up of energy at your apartment prior to the materialization of the box. It wasn't there yet, and it was already giving off radiation." Tony pulled his hand away from the paper, exposing the rings. He drew a straight line through the circles. "If this line represents time. We see the decay after, the build up before, and the dot in the center is the thing- it's him. If this guy is a time traveler, it's like he's punching through time itself, causing circular ripples like a drop of water on a puddle. There's a preceding energy signature, and a following energy signature."

Steve's eyes went wide. "So, what you're really saying is that now that we know what to look for…"

Tony smiled, "We can find him before he even gets here."

"There are only three we can calibrate. One on the top of Stark tower, one on the SHIELD transmitter two blocks from Steve's apartment, and one in D.C." Bruce took his glasses off, leaning onto the desk and making his image flicker in and out over the connection.

Tony leaned back in his chair. "Why can't we get to more?"

Bruce laughed. "Because this isn't an issue of national security. As soon as you reconfigure them to look for this signature-"

"Starkonium Energy," Tony tossed in, smiling.

"No," Bruce replied gingerly. "In any event, as soon as you reconfigure them, they're unable to send back the data they're actually supposed to be collecting. Fury will go on the warpath and then the three of us are screwed."

Tony shook his head and leaned forward on his desk. "If we're going to find this guy, we have to go bigger."

Bruce tapped a few keys and sent Tony an e-mail that popped up on screen over his face. "I doubt that. According to the data we're getting already he'll be outside of Stark Research and Development in six hours, give or take fifteen minutes."

Tony stood and pulled out his phone to call Steve, pumping his fist in the air. "Go Starkonium!"

"We're not calling it Starkonium."

"We're going to get caught," Clara whispered as they crept through the bowels of Stark Research and Development.

The Doctor sighed, stopping short and turning to her "Only if you keep talking!" He took a deep breath and went back to looking at the dials on the small box in his hands. "We're very close. Ah, there!" The Doctor pointed at a small crate a few feet away, sitting against the wall.

"And what's in there that's so important?" Clara snuck past the Doctor, picking up the crate and holding it under one arm against her hip.

The small box slipped easily into the Doctor's pocket, not making the wide shape she'd expect as it fell into the far bigger inside of the pocket. "Honestly, I'm not even sure. I just know that Tony Stark should not be in possession of it. It's either a matter disseminator, which is horribly dangerous, or a fifty first century music box, which is disconcerting, but not dangerous." The Doctor shrugged.

Clara huffed. "If I've been playing cloak and dagger all night just to get you a music box I'll be-"

The lights of the small storage room flicked on, illuminating Tony Stark and Steve Rogers standing against the wall. Tony pointed sarcastically at Clara. "Pissed. The word you're looking for is pissed, because that's what we are."

The Doctor's jaw dropped. The men had been hiding, waiting for him. "Run," he croaked out, his legs already working to get him toward the exit.

"That's stealing!" Tony shouted as he shook his head.

Steve passed him, not quite in a full out run. "Well, you didn't think this would be easy, did you?"

Tony joined him in a jog through the halls of the building, following him out the emergency exit. "Well, no, but I also didn't think he'd be robbing me. Thief!" he called out, wishing he'd worn his suit.

The Doctor didn't stop, and neither did Clara, until they were around the back of the building, illuminated by the full moon. The ally was empty except for the bright blue box. They slowly stepped backwards, inching closer to the Tardis. Clara held the crate in front of her, unsure what to do. "I didn't sign up for this, Doctor."

"You can't have it." The Doctor told Tony in no uncertain terms as he and Steve rounded the corner into the ally.

"Considering it was mine to start with, I beg to differ." Tony shook his head; this was not at all how he'd imagined this was going to go. "Especially if it's a music box. I like music boxes." He tipped his head, his voice a little quieter. "Pepper likes music boxes."

The Doctor sighed. "You weren't supposed to have this in the first place. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but you come in to possession of things that are far beyond what this world, this time, should know."

Steve broke his silence, addressing the man that he had deep, mixed feelings about. "And who are you to decide that?" This man had helped him, had given him one last night with Peggy. And yet, and yet it felt like he was taking far too much liberty. He'd popped up in his life twice before today, and that was two more times than he was comfortable with.

"He's a good man," Clara said, stepping forward. "If he says this is dangerous-"

Tony shook his head. "No, sorry. You don't get to just vouch for him." Tony walked up and took the box from Clara, shoving it into the Doctor's hands. "You want to tell me it's dangerous? You think you know what's best for everyone?" Tony's voice dropped, dark and dangerous, his mind swirling with thoughts of New York and Gods with golden horned helmets. "We have a friend who thought that, too. He's not doing too well right now."

Steve's face was tight as he joined Tony, the two men daunting as they stood tense before the time travelers. "You're no Doctor- you don't help people. You're a bully. A man playing at being a god."

"No I-" The Doctor stammered, looking down at the box in his hands. It wasn't the first time he faced that accusation, and it wouldn't be the last. It was true, in some ways. But then again, the same could be said for the men across from him. "Maybe I do overstep my bounds," the Doctor began, fingers white on the wood of the crate, "but you've got no room to talk. We've all been given our place in this world, in this life, and we've all been given abilities that can help people. I'm just trying the best I know how."

"You don't know the good he's done!" Clara rushed to his side, fire in her eyes. "Don't you dare judge him!"

Tony laughed. "I'll judge whoever I want, god knows I get judged enough, and funny thing is," he raised an eyebrow and smiled sharkishly at her, "they're usually right."

Steve looked at Tony for a moment, knowing he needed to talk to the man about what they'd been through, about the horrible things he'd said about himself, but now was not the time. "I can only base my opinion on what you've done to me, to Tony, to his father." Steve sighed. "You don't look like a very good guy to us."

"It must look very bad," the Doctor agreed, nodding and loosening his grip on the box. "You still can't have this."

"Prove us wrong," Steve continued, ignoring the crate and whatever it held. "You could help me, take me to see them." Steve took a deep breath. "Let me save my friend, let me see Peggy again."

"I, sir, am not a taxi service!" The Doctor faced him fully, the youthful joviality of his countenance bouncing back into his face for a moment along with his disbelief and outrage, the darkness of his true age making the smooth planes of his face ghost with wrinkles of knowledge. "You want to see your friends. Too bad! So do I. We can't always get what we want, sometimes you get what you need."

Tony laughed and looked between the two men, who stared back at him. "Nothing? No?" He shook his head, "Steve, remind me to introduce you to the Stones." He turned on the Doctor, frustration bubbling over into his words, "You quote great music, you have a time traveling box- I mean, what am I really supposed to think? A different attitude on you and we could probably be friends. But, you harassed my father, you steal my stuff, and you tortured this poor man with a taste of what he can't have. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't punch you out, take back my stuff, and steal that blue box to do just what Steve wants?"

The Doctor recoiled, taking a step back, "Well, because that's rude, for one." He sighed. "Very unbecoming of a super hero, threatening violence."

"Superhero, schmooperhero. Told you I've been called worse." Tony shrugged, pointing at the Tardis. "Between the two of us, that blue box is ours if we want it."

The Doctor stood tall and puffed out his chest as Clara roller her eyes at his posturing. "I'd like to see you try to fly it."

Steve sighed, stepping between the two men. Clara was getting dizzy watching them each try to take the reigns of the conversation. "Just explain it to them," Clara pleaded with the Doctor. "They're smart men, they'll understand."

Steve looked carefully at Clara for the first time, stepping close and examining her with enough scrutiny that it caused Tony and the Doctor to stop their little power plays. "That voice- you- you were Bucky's date!" Steve stepped back, starting to finally unwind the threads in his mind as he looked between the Doctor and Clara. "The two of you, bouncing all over time, showing up in my life and for what? What?"

The Doctor slowly let out a deep breath and placed the crate on the ground at his feet. "For- for humanity." He shook his head and threw his hand out to the side. "It was a coincidence that you met Clara. I wanted to show her Stark's work- I wanted her to see the brilliant man who was always one step ahead of me." He looked directly at Tony. "Your father seemed to come into possession of an endless stream of technology that was far too advanced for the time. I don't know how and I don't know why- but him having it, using it, would have changed far too much."

Tony nodded, a frown souring his face. "So, 'Time Lord' is the pompous title it seems to be then, huh? You just meddle in people's lives?"

"No!" Clara rushed to the Doctors defense stepping to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder. "He wanted to show me. I didn't understand. I didn't know how important you all were. He was just trying to show me."

Tony shook his head. "Read a history book, sister. Pop into the Smithsonian, don't pop into people's lives."

The Doctor whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "This is where I say I told you so."

Clara was ready to reply, to stand her ground, but slow movement from the Captain caught her eye. Steve looked at his feet, shaking his head sadly. "Was he trying to show you what heartbreak feels like?" His words were quiet and sad, barely muttered. "Tying to show you loss and desperation?" Steve looked up, eyes shinning with moisture. "Why'd you have to let me see how wonderful it would be?"

Clara attempted to reply, but the look in Steve's eyes stopped her. "I'm sorry," Clara whispered. "I- I wanted to give that to you both."

"It was a bad choice," the Doctor said gently, removing Clara's arm from his own to stand tall next to her, "I should have known better and for that I apologize, but I can't help you."

Tony could almost see the pule raise in Steve's neck, the rage building in him as he stared at the Doctor. But there were so many questions that he needed answered, and this man having his face bashed in by the Captain would not further that agenda. "Then explain it to us." Tony held his hands out, wide-open and calm, waiting.

There was a tense second when none of them moved, none of them even breathed, but finally The Doctor nodded, licking his lips. "Yes, yes of course. You see," he looked at both men, his hands wring in front of him. "Time is like a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey- oh, I've said that before and I don't like it." He turned to Clara and made a silly face, shaking his head to erase the aside from his train of thought. He tuned back to the men and started again. "Time is a very delicate thing. My people have studied it for our entire existence. I can- see it, sense it even. Some things in time can be changed, some can't."

The Doctor looked at Tony. "Your father had the ability to change time. Whatever he kept doing, he was always on the precipice of pushing your world into a dangerous timeline of overdevelopment before humanity was ready for it. I could see the divergent timeline; I could see the consequences of what he could do. I could see the way it should be."

Tony wasn't happy, but nodded and flipped his hand, signaling the Doctor to continue. "And Steve?"

"Steve Rogers was and is meant to be Captain America. His lifeline spans far many more decades than anyone would ever imagine. The things you're meant to do-" The Doctor shook his head and looked at him in amazement. "You have helped and will help so many people. The things that you have done and will do- they are fixed in time. Taking you from your story- moving even the littlest thing in your timeline would be catastrophic not only to this world, but to others, as well."

Steve shook his head. "I'm just one man, I can't be that important."

The Doctor nodded as he took a step closer to Steve, his eyes bright with wonder. "You are. You're so important, in fact, that time itself has made you a fixed point. Trying to change your life would be extremely difficult. Moving you out of place for more than a few hours would start a chain reaction degrading the fabric of time, itself." The Doctor shrugged. "You can't go back. I'm sorry."

Tony scrunched up his eyes, a frustrated purse filling his lips out. "No, I- just no." He shook his head. "You're telling me his fate's been decided already? That nothing can be changed?"

The Doctor didn't move, didn't blink, and just stared at Steve. "Yes."

Steve shook his head slowly, the determination in him growing. "I refuse to believe that."

The Doctor sighed lightly, unsure of how to get his point across. "I'm from your future. I can see the time lines. Things won't, and can't, change." He held out his hands. "Changing them is not… impossible. But I am pleading with you to understand that the slightest change, the smallest deviation- well, it would be catastrophic."

It was like the light in Steve's eyes died, the last vestiges of hope flickered out and were replaced by the duty he had always sought to those around him, only the burden to serve this time was far much more than he'd ever imagined. "Right," he whispered, turning to leave. "Thank you for your time," tumbled out of his lips, the pleasantry dry and rote without meaning.

"She got to see you one last time," Clara called out to him, biting her lip when he stopped, but didn't turn. "You got to keep your date and she got to say goodbye. It wasn't all bad."

Steve looked over his shoulder, but before he could retort Tony had taken the conversation over. "Goodbye is bullshit. Peggy Carter should be sitting in a nursing home somewhere, warm and happy with a slew of grandkids that visit her every weekend, but instead she disappeared five years after the end of the war, just after she helped my dad set up SHIELD. Probably got herself killed looking for Steve, and now, it might be because of you that that happens." Tony stepped back, tossing his hands out to the sides then pointing menacingly at the Doctor. "I have more questions for you, but they don't really feel all that important right now."

The Doctor watched the two men walk out of the ally, their shoulders a little more hunched than when they'd come in. Steve looked back one last time, just before he rounded the corner, and the Doctor couldn't help but feel guilty for the void he felt in the man's stare.

"You're quiet," Clara whispered when they were out of sight. "I don't like you quiet."

The Doctor shook his head as he reached down and picked up the crate. "Right now Peggy Carter is in a home for Alzheimer patients down in Washington DC. When she dies in two years she'll be survived by her daughter, son, and two grand daughters, all of whom will follow in their parents' footsteps to become SHIELD agents. I suspect that her granddaughters do, in fact, visit her every weekend." He shook his head and narrowed his eyes at Clara, who was trying to form the question in her mind into words. "I hate it when you're right."

Clara watched him stalk away, bewildered for a moment before she turned and followed his lengthy strides, trying to keep up with him as he slipped quickly into the Tardis. "I'm right? What was I right about?" The Doctor ignored her, flipping dials and watching the spinning circles of his language as they popped up on the screen in front of him. She grabbed his arm and pulled his focus directly to her. "What was I right about?"

The Doctor got very still, leaning down. "He could see the divergent timeline. It was barely clear to me, coming to light more and more as we talked. No mere human should have been able to see it."

Clara smiled widely. "Tony Stark is a Time Lord."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and went back to his screen. "Part. Part Time Lord!" He raced around the console to pull a lever, the familiar wheeze of the engines starting floating around them. "And the divergent timeline is getting stronger every second! Are you ready to save Captain America, Agent Peggy Carter, and Iron Man, Clara?"

She shrugged with a wide grin on her face. "All depends. Do I get a cape?"

The Tardis had touched down in an American park, the time not to far removed from the war she'd become so familiar with lately. Clara had rushed after the Doctor as he nearly ran out the door, talking a mile a minute. "In the original time line Peggy Carter leaves the crumbling SSR to start SHIELD with Colonel Phillips and Howard Stark. Within the span of about 5 years she racks up more achievements than most people do in a lifetime. With SHIELD running on its own she gets married, pops out a few babies, and spends the rest of her life behind a desk as the Director. She has what I can only assume to be a heartfelt reunion with Captain America three weeks from the date we left him, which he later talks about in his autobiography. "

Clara followed the Doctor through the streets of what she assumed was somewhere in 1950's New York, wondering what he was searching for with such tenacity. "Getting married and popping out babies doesn't really seem like her- I mean, she was a field agent, yeah?"

"Yes," he said offhandedly, dodging a group of boys running down the street, "Never really sounded like the same woman to me, but then again, war changes people. Changes their priorities." He stopped at the corner, digging through his pocket until he came out with the period correct change he needed to buy the newspaper from the newsstand. "This," he announced, fluffing the newspaper straight out in front of him, "will help illuminate things!"

"You've been so cryptic today I've hit my limit. What will it illuminate?" Clara slipped under the Doctor's arm, reading the paper he held outstretched in front of him.

The Doctor leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Tony Stark saw the divergent time line. Ever since he spoke of it, it's been becoming clearer to me."

"Time Lord!" Her voice sang lightly, and smugly up to his ear. "And you've already told me that part."

"Whatever," he muttered. "Point being, something is changing time, and yet, the Captain's time line isn't diverging much. Much being operative. His timeline shouldn't be able to change at all, but it is, it's morphing and settling into a completely different form, and the universe likes it!" The Doctor laughed happily. "There are small changes for the Captain's life, little, hard to see, but they're there. But this whole world changes, and for once, it's in a good way."

Clara turned in his arms, blocking his view of the newspaper, recalling Tony Stark's words. "The world gets better if Peggy Carter freezes to death looking for Captain America? I find that very hard to believe."

"This is that world, though." The Doctor gestured around them with his chin. "We're in the divergent time line right now- strong enough to be it's own entity, we just popped right over on to it." When she didn't move he slumped, his face a comic of disappointment. "Oh, come on, that's impressive! Aren't you impressed? That was hard to do!"

Clara rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "You were eating jelly babies with one hand, reading a book with your other, and steering with your foot. You're telling me it's so hard you had to steer with your foot?"

The Doctor huffed. "Yes, yes it was." He fluffed the paper once again, his eyes scanning page after page. "In any event, you can't have two strong timelines in the same reality. One of them will win soon, and we need to make sure it is the right one! The other world, the original time line, is the one we already know about. If it wins, it isn't a bad thing. Time marches on as usual. This is the alternate time line. You see, in this world she goes missing, completely off the grid. Not a speck is heard from her again. Of course, she'd done a ton of important things already- set up SHIELD among them and set them down the right path. She goes right before she decides to become Mama Carter instead of Agent Carter. Almost like she disappeared once she knew-Ah!" The Doctor stopped and pushed the paper into her hands, pointing at a small article. "Right there, that's what I was looking for!"

Former Military Woman Missing, Presumed Dead.

The headline was nondescript, the article even more so. It named her only as a member of the army and local community missing and presumed dead. It could go into none of what she'd done, who she'd been- the public wouldn't know that for years. "So?" Clara asked, shrugging her shoulders.

"Soooo…" the Doctor's head bobbled on his shoulders in frustration. He pointed to the end of the article. "So, read that part right there."

Clara pulled the paper closer. "'Local man Artie Druthers told the Tribune that he'd reported a mysterious Blue Box to the police. While no box has been ever, or since, sighted at the corner of Washington and Fifth, Druthers said he saw it for three nights straight and said it resembled relics of Police Public Call boxes that he'd seen. Several neighbors corroborated his story, but there is no physical evidence to support the box ever existing. '" Clara looked up at the Doctor, her eyes wide. "No!"

"Yes," the Doctor smiled, and then frowned. "We did this, but we can't do it."

Clara opened her mouth then closed it, folding the paper slowly before speaking again. "But if we can't… then we didn't… but we obviously did."

The Doctor took the paper from her, starting his long strides back to the Tardis. "If we did, then we have to, but we can't... so we couldn't have."

"What if Howard Stark did it? " Clara asked, catching up to him.

The Doctor looked at her as if she'd wounded him. "Tony Stark may be part Time Lord, part, but even if his father was a full Time Lord, which he wasn't, he didn't have the power to do this back then. It was us. It is us. It will be us. But we can't, so it can't be."

Clara stopped for a moment, watching the towering man in tweed stroll away from her. "This is giving me a headache."

The Doctor snuck into the man's bedroom much easier than Clara thought he'd be able to, considering they'd snuck up a pipe after waking for five miles, hoping to avoid whatever way Stark had discovered to surprise them. "Cap, Cap wake up," the Doctor whispered, just at the edge of the bed, tickling the man with a feather that emitted a light purple dust.

Instead of jumping to attention and snapping their necks like Clara supposed an army man like him was supposed to do, Steve pawed at the feather with barely flexed hands, the purple dust floating in and out of his nose and mouth with every breath. "Leave me alone, Bucky," he murmured, rolling over.

"Not Bucky, won't leave you alone." The Doctor scooted around in three long strides to the other side of the bed, continuing his assault with the feather.

Steve's face screwed up as he turned again, batting away the dust but never once opening his eyes. "Go to bed, Dum Dum!"

The Doctor straightened, affronted. "Why, I!"

Clara took the feather from the Doctor and shook her head. "Dum Dum was his compatriot in the war, you dummy." Clara leaned over the sniffling man, whispering softly. "If I could grant you one wish right now, any wish, what would it be, Captain?"

"Peggy," he murmured. "I want to see Peggy." He rolled and missed pulling Clara into his embrace my mere inches, instead wrapping his arms around a pillow and smiling into it. "Peggy."

Clara backed into the Doctor, handing him back the feather. "We probably just could have asked him, was all this necessary?"

The Doctor shrugged and pulled her back towards the Tardis. "Feathers of Alturian Peacocks are the only way I know to make sure someone is telling the truth. They're far more effective during sleep. They get past the subconscious that way."

Clara shrugged as she stepped back onto the bridge of the Tardis, her hand running over the edge of the console. "So, what now?"

The Doctor smiled. "Now, we make the news."

Fifteen minutes. Almost to the dot, it took Agent Peggy Carter fifteen minutes from when they landed to become curious enough to knock on the door of the Tardis where it sat on the corner of Washington and Ninth.

"Well, it's about time!" The Doctor announced as he opened the door, ushering her quickly inside. "I was starting to think I'd made a mistake!" He pretended to ignore the startled look on her face as he leaned in close, even though the awe in her eyes added to his joviality, "I'm never wrong."

A laugh startled both of them, and they turned to see Clara leaning against the console. "You…" Peggy barely breathed out as she tried to keep herself composed.

"Me," Clara smiled. She stepped closer and bounced on the balls of her feet.

"How…?" Peggy couldn't keep her eyes from being wide and rounded, her gaze from drifting around the room. She'd seen so many amazing things between the SSR and Hydra, and yet, this seemed to be too much for her to comprehend. Her head snapped to stare at the Doctor, almost accusingly, but still with a hint of wonder. "Time travel."

He nodded, a sly smile starting to form on his face. "Yes, Peggy Carter, time travel." He swept his arm out to the side, signaling for her to follow Clara as she started to head deeper into the Tardis. "If you'll indulge us in a bit of your time, I think you'll see that I have quite the interesting proposition."

"Three days isn't much time," Clara mused as she watched Peggy Carter walk away from the Tardis and back into her building.

The Doctor shook his head softly. "Some people don't even get a minute to put their affairs in order." A small smile lit up his lips. "Three days is more than enough." He turned to Clara, his smile morphing into one of mischief. "In the mean time, we have a friend to visit."

"Yeah?" Clara followed the Doctor out of the Tardis, scuffing her feet across the pavement. "Who?"

He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. "Time for me to figure out just who, and what, Howard Stark is."

Clara nearly skipped as she followed the Doctor into the twilight.

She had to be vague.

Reality was, she could be back.

She hoped beyond all hope that Clara and the Doctor were for real, that they could do the amazing things they claimed and that her memory of that night was as real as she believed it to be, but…

She knew that there was a chance that none of it was real. Peggy knew that there was a chance she was being played for a fool by dangerous parties.

Peggy Carter was no one's fool. Even if this man was a humbug, he had a box that was scientifically impossible. It was a path she had to follow.

Peggy let her hand drift over the crisp, white paper again and sighed. She'd just signed her request for leave, telling Captain Phillips that she planned on going north, joining a fishing boat crew and looking for Steve herself if no one else would.

It was as good an excuse as any, and she knew that nearly everyone she knew would buy it, as well. She could only shake her head at that and wish they knew her as well as she wanted them to, as much as the man to whom she was writing the letter did.

She took a deep breath and pressed pen to paper.

Dear Howard,

Two things may have happened by now. Either I've called you to tell you to disregard this (and you've opened it anyway) or I've been declared missing. I plan on being missing, and I'll thank you not to look for me. You won't find me.

By the time you read this, I will be gone. Not dead, but gone. The Colonel or any number of other people will ask if you know anything, and you must say that you don't. I would tell you this in person, but you would stop me, and I have so little time.

Ironic, time. That's exactly what the man in the bowtie has offered me. He calls himself the Doctor. If you have the chance to get to know him, you must take it.

I'm going to be with Steve.

He kept our date. Five years ago, Steve came to me in strange clothes and we spent the night dancing and whispering of all the things that would never be. He told me a fantastical story about being caught in the ice of the artic, being thawed in our future, and then meeting a man who calls himself The Doctor who brought him to me.

I beg that you don't share this with anyone. I'm not even supposed to tell you, but I know that you would never believe I would go to search for Steve without taking advantage of every bit of technology you have to offer. The Doctor's technology far exceeds anything I've ever dreamed. If he has even the faintest chance- well, I have to take it. Even if I don't get to be with Steve, the chance to find out about this man's world is reason enough.

If I am gone, you must know that I've done it because I have no reasons not to, because I have a chance at something beautiful. The Doctor assures me that Steve misses me as much as I long for him, and who could turn down a chance to travel to the future?

If I am here, if I have begged you to not read this…

Peggy sat back, taking a deep breath, her eyes pooling with tears, before she returned to the page.

If I am here, come to me. You will be the only person I can share this with, and I am sure I will need a friend if things have gone wrong.

I hope to see you in the future, my friend. May our paths cross again. I regret all the years that we will lose together, but a future clearer than anything I can imagine beckons. Until then, always ask yourself if I would approve before you do anything.

I mean anything.

All my love,

Peggy

Peggy tried to fight the emotion welling in her throat as she sealed the letter in its envelope and addressed it. The last thing on her list for today was to see a lawyer and firm up her last will and testament.

There was a small suitcase sitting on her bed, waiting to be filled with the few things she wanted to take with her. There wasn't anyone left for her to tell, no one left to say goodbye to, not if she was still pretending she was going to comeback.

"Doctor Banner, I am afraid that I am unable to put your call through."

Jarvis' voice floated through the phone line, only slightly more tinny than normal over the international line. Bruce sighed heavily. "Why not?"

"Miss Potts' strict instruction." The voice over the line changed to that of Pepper, the recording playing back. "Mr. Stark is not to be disturbed for anything, Jarvis, and I mean anything." The robotic timber returned. "I'm afraid Mr. Stark has not been sleeping well as of late and Miss Potts has enforced a pharmacological response."

Bruce laughed despite himself as he poured over the printouts. "She drugged him?"

"Quite right, sir. Even if I put your call through, he would not rouse for another three hours and seventeen minutes, give or take thirty seconds."

Bruce leaned back in his chair. "Right, well, can you put me in touch with Steve Rogers? It's important."

Bruce thought that if the computer could sigh in frustration, it would. "Unfortunately, sir, I am not authorized to give out Captain Rogers' information, and am also not authorized to transfer the call."

"Well, can ya…" Bruce shifted through his information. The three-hour delay that it took the information to get to him from the two scanners they were able to alter was starting to cause problems, and he didn't have enough time to wait for Tony to wake up. "Can you text him for me or something?"

The pause before the mechanical butler answered did nothing to bolster Bruce's spirit. "While that would be something I very well could do, it would be of no use."

Bruce couldn't believe he was having this conversation with an artificial intelligence, next time he'd have to get Pepper's number from Tony, at the very least she could understand an emergency that sat outside the parameters of a computer program. "And why not?"

"Because Captain Rogers left his cell phone here half an hour ago. Texting him would not alert him to anything until after Mr. Stark gets in contact with him again."

Bruce could feel his pulse rising. At least he had a reason why Steve wasn't answering HIS calls. "How about Miss Potts? Can I talk to her?"

"She is also unable to be disturbed, sir, she is taking a nap with Mr. Stark."

Bruce took a slow, deep breath. "Right. Of course." Well, they hadn't known the last time, maybe this time wouldn't be so bad. Hopefully. Maybe. "Jarvis, just have Tony call me the second he wakes up. Got it?"

The computerized voice was frustratingly bland. "Very good, sir."

Bruce tossed his cell phone on the table. Steve was notorious for forgetting his cell phone. The technology was too new to him, something he didn't think to check for before leaving his house or a meeting. Next time he saw the man, Bruce was reading him the riot act about being able to be contacted.

For now, he just hoped that everything would be ok when the Blue Box appeared in Steve's apartment.

Steve knew something was wrong. He could feel it, like an oscillation in the air. It was quiet, dark, but there was a disturbance in his home, a wavelength that he wasn't prepared for, something tingling on the back of his neck that told him to leave the lights off as he entered, to close the door and slip the shield from his back to his arm quickly and quietly. That he'd felt this same feeling before only served to put him more on guard as he stepped deeper into his home.

"Stand down, Captain," came the voice from the darkness of his apartment, a voice he never thought he'd hear again.

"Peggy…" He froze, didn't move; didn't lower his shield or flick on a light. Not when his mind was spinning and trying to decide if it was real, if the scent of her perfume floated on the air and the sound of her voice caused a chill down his spine or if it was all a trick.

The light came on from the other end of the room, a small lamp flickering to life, illuminating her figure clad in the red dress that he remembered so vividly. "Yes," she whispered, licking her bright red lips and smiling a little. "It's me."

Her hands were shaking. In all the time he spent with her, he'd never seen her hands be anything but steady, even when she was firing a gun straight at him or walking into an enemy camp. She held them close to her sides, red nails blending to the bright red dress as they tried not to fidget. He let his shield drop gently to his side, still in hand, still ready, but she was there, across from him, and it was everything he could do to stay where he was. "You're here."

"Yes," she whispered, smiling nervously. She looked down, her eyes flickering to the carpet and back up again. "I, I am here. Now."

"For how long?" He stepped forward, the words tumbling from his lips. He remembered the last time. He told himself so often that it must have been a dream, even if Tony believed it, it had to have been a dream. He couldn't live with it otherwise.

Peggy smiled and held her hands out to the sides. "Well, as long as you'll have me."

Steve dropped his shield and crossed the room in three long strides, scooping her up in a tight hug. She clutched at him, her hands sliding over the soft fabric under her fingers with wonder.

Every moment of every second that she'd been there, only a few short minutes before he walked in, was filled with nervousness, and now, her heart filled with happiness. "He said I could stay as long as you want me. I hope…" she looked into his eyes as Steve lowered her feet gently to the floor, "I hope that will be for a long time."

"Forever," he whispered, gently swaying back and forth as he held her, his hand tangling in her hair to cradle the back of her head close to him. "I want you with me forever."

"You should talk to Tony about that." The lilting English tone took Steve by surprise. He turned, shoving Peggy behind him as his instinct took over. The big blue box was back, the woman leaning jauntily in the open door, the man called the Doctor standing just in front from where he'd spoken.

Steve took a deep breath as he felt Peggy press up against his back, her hands tight at his shoulders. "I'd nearly forgotten he was there," she whispered.

"Doctor," Steve greeted him cautiously, relaxing and letting Peggy slip forward against his side. "Why do I need to talk to Tony?"

The Doctor shrugged. "You don't need to. I've tried talking to him, and he's quite difficult at times." At Steve's smile, the Doctor straightened his bowtie and took a skipping step closer. "But, and I don't normally share things like this, you sir are going to have a much longer life than the normal human."

Steve nodded solemnly. "Doctor Erskine thought as much."

"Tell Tony to take a look in his father's notes, round about right when you left." The Doctor pointed at Peggy before shoving his hands in his pockets. "He'll find a very interesting formula that should give you at least a few more years- if you want them, that is."

From Steve's side Peggy smiled. "Thank you, Doctor." He tightened his arm around her, tipping his head in his own thanks.

"Don't thank me," the Doctor said, stepping back to the Tardis. "I make things right when I can." He took a deep breath and looked at Clara, who was leaning against the Tardis doorjamb, his impossible girl, before looking at the pair before him. Peggy was smaller than Steve, but not small. Next to the superhero, she didn't shrink, didn't fade. Peggy Carter fit with Steve Rogers, and their time lines, their lifelines, hummed in a deep harmony that sang to the part of him that connected to the greater existence of the universe. He smiled. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd felt that kind of cosmic convergence. He knew, deep in every cell of his body, that every thing they'd done was for the greater good of the universe. "This is the right thing."

Clara rested her hand on the Doctor's shoulder as he stepped back into the Tardis, waving brightly. "I'd say good luck," Clara said quietly as the Doctor slipped past her, "but you two don't need it. You have each other."

Steve and Peggy looked at one another, smiling. "We do, don't we?" He asked, smiling widely.

Peggy wrapped her arm around Steve tighter as he turned back to the closing door. "Thank you!" She nearly shouted, wondering if apartment walls were as thin in this century as she was used to.

They watched quietly as the Tardis faded from view, the sound of the universe wheezing in and out around them. The hairs on the back of Steve's neck relaxed as it faded, and for a second he expected Peggy to disappear, as well.

He gently pressed her closer to his side, not daring to look down. When he felt the solid press of her hip into his thigh, he closed his eyes and prayed with words he never thought he'd use.

"Who is Tony?" Peggy asked, not moving from her position tucked into his side.

Steve laughed lightly, clearing his throat. "Tony Stark. He's Howard's son."

Peggy leaned back, ready to dig and find out more, but the tension in Steve's face stopped her. "What is it?" Peggy whispered, her voice thick with worry as her hand came to rest over his shoulder.

He relaxed just a hair and smiled, turning his head and opening his eyes to let their happiness shine down on her. "You're here. I can barely-"

The wheezing returned, causing them to stop. They held the breath, didn't move a muscle, concerned as to why the Doctor would return so soon. It slowly grew louder, the bright blue box solidifying out of nowhere and the door flinging open. "I almost forgot!" The Doctor hung from the doorway, his lanky arms clutching at the wooden edge as he leaned sideways, pulling out Peggy's suitcase, and set it just outside the Tardis into Steve's apartment. "You'll also need to give her an alias, otherwise people will start to ask questions." The Doctor smiled widely. "I have a feeling Mrs. Rogers will do nicely."

He disappeared as quickly as he returned, leaving Peggy and Steve in the small living room of his apartment, lit only by the last rays of sunset through the window and the gentle lamp light. "Well, what do you think?" Steve asked, turning Peggy to wrap her more fully in his embrace when the last sounds of the Tardis had faded.

"Of what?" Peggy asked, letting her hands run over his arms, her eyes drifting between his face and the strange objects behind him that she'd never seen before.

"I'll need to get a ring, of course, and propose properly," Steve stepped back and dropped to one knee, holding her hands in his. "How do you feel about being Mrs. Rogers?"

Peggy smiled widely, wanting to say yes and jump into his arms, but there was a part of her that knew that they should perhaps be just a little more cautious than traveling through time allowed for in a relationship. "Perhaps," she pulled on his hands to get him to stand once again, "You should take me on a second date before we consider marriage."

Steve laughed lightly, the smile wide on his face as he leaned his forehead down to touch hers. "You're right, as always." His hand drifted up to cup her cheek, the other wrapping around her hip. "At least one more date before I propose again."

He kissed her gently for a long moment, their limbs relaxing against one another with the rush of calm that the embrace brought. Peggy pulled back just slightly, looking back to her suitcase, a coy smile growing on her lips. "Captain, I seem to be in a predicament."

"Oh?" He asked, tracing the curve of her neck with his fingertips.

She turned back to him. "I seem to be in need of a place to bunk for the foreseeable future." She let her hands rub up and down over his shoulders. "Would you know somewhere I might go?"

Steve stepped back and reached down, tangling his fingers with hers and holding her hand tight as he reached over and lifted her suitcase. "I think I have an idea." He led her to the bedroom, laying her suitcase on the bed and opening one of his drawers, pulling stacks of shirts out to make way for her things. She would need more than whatever she could have brought in that small suitcase, so a shopping trip was in order soon. They could call Tony tomorrow, though he was surprised that he hadn't already gotten a call from him or Bruce, and he'd have to call Fury in the morning, too. Natasha could probably falsify the documents they needed, and based on what he'd seen of some of the aisles in the supermarket Peggy would probably need to have a long talk with her about a myriad of other things, as well. He didn't even want to think about how little he knew in that department in this time. Steve mused that perhaps Pepper would be a better choice for that conversation as he patted down his pants pockets, finding his phone missing. At least he knew why Bruce and Tony hadn't warned him.

What mattered, he thought as he watched Peggy slip a small pile of clothes from the suitcase to the drawer, was that they were together now. She pulled a small-framed photo out, her parents wedding photo he assumed by the look of it, and held it quietly for a moment. He put his hand under hers, waiting for her to look up. "On the mantle, maybe, in the living room?" Her smile made his heart skip a beat. "It can go next to ours, eventually."

"Yes," Peggy whispered around the smile. "Next to ours."

Epilogue-

Tony Stark was awake.

He didn't sleep anymore, not after New York. Not when he was questioning his entire existence. He'd thought he'd become a hero, but Steve Rogers saw through him in less than a day. You're not the guy to lay down on the line and make the sacrifice play.

He wasn't. Not then. He thought he was, behind all of that armor, but Steve had been right.

Now? Well, he'd flown into another universe, hadn't he? That had to mean something.

The tentative friendship he'd forged with Steve was something he enjoyed. Minute by minute he understood his father's obsession, could see how his father had brought him up at every turn: Steve Rogers was the kind of man that made you want to be a better person. Maybe, if Steve had been around back then, if Peggy Carter hadn't disappeared after a few years, his father would have been a different man.

Maybe… maybe his Uncle Steve and Aunt Peggy would have shown him how to make the sacrifice play.

Now, now he just needed to be his friend, learn from him that way.

He wandered the halls of his home. He'd made another suit tonight. He wasn't exactly happy with the weapon to armor ratio, but it was another one to have in the arsenal, another suit to put on when one fell apart, another suit to rely on when his human body wouldn't be able to save anyone or anything.

He'd start on the formula from his father's notebook tomorrow. It baffled him, he could clearly remember it both being there for as long as he'd had that notebook and it never existing at all. He guessed that something must have changed things when Peggy showed up in Steve's apartment that night. He'd gone barreling over to Steve's banging on the door with the man's cell phone in his other hand. He'd been met at the door by the biggest smile he'd ever seen on Steve and a face he only remembered from pictures. He didn't even ask, just handed the phone over to the man and excused himself.

He still had to pin Steve and Peggy down and get them to add their story to the notebook.

He was restless, though. He could be down the hall, wrapped tightly around Pepper and praying for a dreamless sleep. Instead, he held his Taser in one hand, pressing down on the altered 'on' switch as he roamed each room.

He didn't really expect to see anything. He had questions for that man, the Doctor and his Blue Box, and one day he wanted answers, though bringing Peggy to the future went a long way in Tony's opinion of the alien. Bruce was at least occupying some of his time with the paper they were co-authoring. Whether or not anyone ever saw it outside of Shield was another matter all together. It was the breakthrough of the century. After New York, it could also lead to mass panic and scanners on the roof of every house.

Tony was pretty sure that wasn't a good idea.

He turned into the small guest room where he stored his father's belongings. He was pretty sure there was a box somewhere of old SSR artifacts that Peggy might want, and he figured taking a look might occupy him for at least a little while. There wasn't much else when it came to his father's stuff. A few books, a chest full of his notebooks, the Stark Expo model took up an entire wall… at least he thought it was an interesting art piece. He swept the Taser over everything, only the hum of excited electrons any sign that the device was even on.

Tony stopped at the dresser, staring in the mirror above it. There were circles under his eyes. He was tired. He needed sleep. He needed rest more than anything, but that hadn't come in months. Just as he was about to turn to leave he noticed it.

There was a faint purple glow from the top drawer of the dresser.

He gently slid the Taser closer. "Oh, hello there," he mumbled, opening the drawer to see the glow brighten.

He fished his hand around in old papers, pens, and notebooks, shifted around a picture of his parents, a half empty pack of gum, some of his mother's make-up. Finally, he lifted the source, bringing the bright purple glow closer to him.

He could still hear his father's voice from when he was a kid. Put that down, Tony! It's expensive. Sterling silver. Put it back where you found it.

His father's prized fob watch wasn't tarnished, not even a little bit. The swirling concentric circles on the front were mesmerizing, bringing back the memories of him seeking it out as a child. It was warm and the purple glow made his heart pound. Why and how could his father's watch be radiating that kind of energy?

He'd always wanted to look inside, understand what was so special about it. His father wasn't here now to chastise him. He was an adult; he knew how to work a watch.

And yet… and yet it wasn't really important, was it? It was just his father's watch.

Tony shook his head and slipped the watch back into the drawer, closing it swiftly. Maybe Peggy would want it; lord knew he didn't have a use for the old hunk of silver. With a few steps he was back into the hall, sweeping the Taser back and forth over the walls, counting the seconds until the sun came up.