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-1942-
The roar of the Red Skull's plane engines filled Captain America's ears, the chaos of the final battle with Hydra still fresh in his mind. The controls of the plane were firm in his hands, his knuckles white as he guided the aircraft through the sky, but his mind was already on what he knew had to be done.
He reached for the radio, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the decision he was about to make. "Come in, this is Captain Rogers, do you read me?"
The static crackled for a moment before a voice came through, "Captain Rogers, what is your—" But the voice was cut off, interrupted by Peggy's urgent tone as she took the radio.
"Steve, is that you? Are you alright?" Peggy's voice trembled slightly, a mix of concern and fear.
Steve's gaze was steely as he responded, "Peggy, Schmidt's dead!"
There was a brief silence on the other end before Peggy's voice came through again, this time with more urgency. "What about the plane?"
Steve looked around at the controls, the ominous lights flashing, signaling danger. He knew there was no easy way to explain the gravity of the situation. "That's a little bit tougher to explain."
"Give your coordinates," Peggy insisted. "I'll find you a safe landing site."
Steve's jaw clenched as he prepared to break the news to her. "There's not gonna be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."
"I'll get Stark on the line, he'll know what to do," Peggy's voice was laced with desperation, clinging to any hope of saving him.
But Steve shook his head, even though she couldn't see it. "There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water."
Instantly, Peggy's voice came through, softer, pleading, "Please, don't do this. We have time. We can work it out."
Steve's heart ached at the pain he was causing her, but he knew what had to be done. "Right now, I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice."
With a heavy sigh, he took out his compass, the one that held her picture. He placed it gently on one of the controls, letting it be his guide as he prepared for the inevitable. "Peggy?"
Her voice was shaky, but she responded, "I'm here."
A soft smile touched Steve's lips, bittersweet and filled with the weight of unspoken words. "I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."
Peggy's laugh was strained, tears evident in her voice. "Alright. A week from today, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."
"You got it," Steve said, his voice softening as he looked at her picture in the compass, the icy ocean fast approaching below.
"8 O'clock on the dot," Peggy's voice cracked, but she held firm. "Don't you dare be late. Understood?"
Steve's eyes moistened, but he kept his voice steady. "You know, I still don't know how to dance."
"I'll show you how. Just be there," Peggy's voice was almost pleading now, holding onto that last thread of hope.
Steve snapped his watch shut and tucked it back into his pocket, making sure Peggy's picture was secure, before closing his eyes and imagining her in his arms as the music swirled around them.
"We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your—"
*CRASH!*
Before he could finish his last words, the plane hit the water, the impact echoing through his mind as everything went dark.
…
..
.
-1993-
Suddenly, Steve's eyes snapped open, the cold of the North Atlantic replaced by the sterile light of the Red Room's infirmary. "?"
He lay in a hospital bed, his body feeling heavy, but alive. The last thing he remembered was the plane crashing into the ice, but now… now he was somewhere else, somewhere unfamiliar.
His breathing quickened as he tried to piece together what had happened, where he was, and how he had gotten there. The sounds of the modern world slowly filtered in—the beeping of medical equipment, the hum of machinery.
But one thing was clear: he was alive. Somehow, against all odds, he had survived.
Steve's eyes darted around the room, confusion clouding his thoughts as he took in his surroundings. "…"
The bright, sterile light of the infirmary was a stark contrast to the cold, dark ocean he had just been plummeting into. But now, he was here, somewhere unfamiliar, and his mind struggled to make sense of it all.
'Where am I? How did I get here?' The thoughts raced through his head as he scanned the room.
The walls were metallic and clean, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic. It was too quiet, too sterile—nothing like the chaos of war he remembered. His pulse began to rise, the instincts honed from combat and survival kicking in.
'Was I captured?' The thought hit him like a cold slap to the face. 'Am I in a Nazi facility? Or… Hydra?'
Steve's heartbeat quickened as his eyes fell on the advanced technology surrounding him—machines humming softly, lights blinking in patterns that made no sense to him.
He had seen cutting-edge tech before, thanks to Howard Stark, but this… this was beyond anything even Stark could create. The bewildering sight only added to his confusion, his mind racing through possibilities as his breath came faster.
He needed to get out of here. Wherever "here" was, Steve knew he couldn't stay. He tried to sit up, but the unfamiliar weight in his limbs, the sluggishness in his muscles, made it difficult. Panic started to creep in as his survival instincts took over, pushing him to escape before it was too late.
But as he tried to move, something restrained him, holding him in place. His mind immediately went to the worst—handcuffs, or worse, some kind of high-tech restraint to keep him from escaping.
"!" His enhanced strength surged within him, ready to tear whatever was holding him back into pieces, but something made him pause. "…?"
It wasn't cold metal or a tight band around his wrist that restrained him. Instead, it was something warm, soft. He turned his head to look at what was holding him down, and what he saw made him freeze in place.
Beside his bed, leaning over in a chair, was an old woman. Her hair was silver and gray, her face lined with the marks of time. She was fast asleep, her head resting on the edge of his bed, but even in sleep, her grip on his hand was firm, almost desperate.
Steve stared at her, the confusion and fear in his heart slowly giving way to a different kind of emotion—something softer, yet more intense. There was something familiar about her, something that tugged at a distant memory, but he couldn't place it. His breath hitched, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.
'Who is she? And why does she feel so…'
…
Feeling a faint movement, Peggy began to stir from her restless sleep. She groaned softly as her body protested the awkward position she had been in for hours, the aches and pains of her age making themselves known. Slowly, she sat up, her free hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
But as her vision cleared, she froze, her breath catching in her throat. "…"
Steve was awake.
He sat upright in the hospital bed, his blue eyes wide with confusion and suspicion, yet there was something else there too—a flicker of recognition, a hint of familiarity that stirred in the depths of his gaze.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the room filled with a tense silence. Peggy could hardly believe what she was seeing, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. This was the moment she had dreamed of for so long, the moment she had hoped for against all odds. And now, it was real.
Unable to control the wave of emotions that surged through her, Peggy burst into tears. The sudden outpouring of emotion shocked Steve, his confusion deepening as he watched the woman in front of him crumble into sobs.
"W-What..?" He muttered.
Before he could react, she leaped out of her chair and into his lap, wrapping her arms tightly around him as she cried into his chest.
"You… you idiot!" Peggy sobbed, her voice muffled against his chest. "You left me for so long… You broke your promise!"
Steve was frozen, his mind reeling as this woman—this stranger who felt so achingly familiar—held him close, her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.
Despite his confusion, his instincts took over, and he found himself reflexively wrapping his arms around her, holding her in a comforting embrace.
But the confusion only deepened as he searched his mind for answers. Who was this woman? Why did her words cut so deep? Why did he feel such a strong connection to her when he couldn't even remember her name?
And then, amidst her tears and sniffles, she said something that made everything fall into place.
"You still owe me that dance," Peggy whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
The words struck Steve like a lightning bolt, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. His mind raced back to his last memory—the plane, the radio, the sound of Peggy's voice, the promise he had made but never had the chance to keep.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his breath catching in his throat as the realization hit him. His eyes widened, the shock evident on his face as he muttered, "P-Peggy?"
The tears continued to flow down Peggy's cheeks, but she managed a tearful smile as she nodded, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of joy and heartbreak. "Yes, Steve… it's me. It's really me."
Steve stared at Peggy, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions—relief, love, and a touch of disbelief and suspicion. "Peggy, you look so…" he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words.
Peggy knew exactly what he was going to say. She looked down, her shoulders slumping slightly as she finished the sentence for him. "Old?" she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness.
The reality of their situation was beginning to sink in for her—the years that had passed, the time she had lived through while Steve remained frozen in ice.
The love of her life was back, but she was no longer the young woman he had known. She had aged, and he hadn't. The stark contrast between them weighed heavily on her heart.
But Steve, always the gentleman, gave her a warm, reassuring smile and shook his head. "Beautiful," he corrected gently. "I was going to say that you look so beautiful."
Peggy's breath caught in her throat, a new wave of tears filling her eyes. She laughed through her tears, the sound a mixture of disbelief and joy. "You're as smooth as ever, huh?" she said sarcastically, though there was a softness in her tone that showed how much his words meant to her, even if she knew he was lying.
Steve chuckled, his smile widening as he wiped away her tears with a calloused thumb. "I'm serious, Peggy," he said earnestly. "You're beautiful."
As he looked into her eyes, he saw the familiar spark of wit and strength that he had always loved. Her small mannerisms, her sarcastic tone, and that radiant smile—it was all Peggy.
For a brief moment, he had doubted that this was really her, thinking it might be some sort of Hydra trick or another illusion. But now, all of those doubts were gone.
This was Peggy, his Peggy.
He couldn't hold back the question that had been burning in his mind since he first opened his eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion and concern. "Where am I? How did I get here?"
Peggy's smile faded, replaced by a frown as she realized she had to break the news to him. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she spoke. "Steve," she began gently, her voice trembling slightly, "you've been… frozen at the bottom of the ocean for over fifty years. It's… it's currently 1993."
Steve's eyes widened in shock as the words sank in. "Fifty years?" he echoed, his mind reeling as he tried to comprehend the passage of time. "1993?!"
————
Los Angeles, California, Tranquility High School…
The buzzing of a classroom filled the air, the murmur of students mingling with the sound of a teacher droning on about some historical event. In the middle of it all, Sam Witwicky sat slumped at his desk, his mind far from the lesson.
[Insert Picture of Sam here]
He wasn't interested in what happened in the past—he was focused on his future, and more specifically, how he was going to get the money he needed.
With a sigh, Sam glanced down at the collection of old maps and equipment laid out on his desk. They were family heirlooms, relics from his great-great-great-grandfather's days as an explorer. But to Sam, they were nothing more than potential cash.
He'd spent the better part of the day trying to convince his classmates that these items were worth something, that they were valuable pieces of history. But no one seemed to care.
'Come on, man,' Sam thought to himself, flipping through the faded maps. 'These have to be worth something…'
He had hoped to make enough money from selling the heirlooms to put towards buying a car—something flashy, something that would make people finally take notice of him. More specifically, something that would make Mikaela Banes take notice.
Sam's eyes drifted across the classroom to where Mikaela sat. She was easily the most beautiful girl in school, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that was nothing short of stunning.
Mikaela was slim and toned, dressed in a way that showed off far more skin than the school probably allowed. She had a natural magnetism that drew people in, making her the center of attention wherever she went.
[Insert picture of Megan Fox as Mikaela Banes here]
But despite her beauty, Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as he watched her laugh at something her boyfriend, Trent, had said. Trent was the typical high school jock—muscled, handsome, and utterly devoid of any real personality. He treated Mikaela like she was just another trophy, something to show off rather than someone to cherish.
Sam envied Trent. He wanted to be that guy—the popular one, the one with the beautiful trophy girl on his arm. And he had convinced himself that the key to achieving that was getting the right car. If he could just get his hands on something sleek and expensive, he was sure he could win Mikaela over, and everything would fall into place.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Sam quickly gathered up his family heirlooms, stuffing them into his bag as he prepared to leave.
As he made his way out of the classroom, he cast one last longing glance in Mikaela's direction. She didn't notice him—she never did. But that was going to change. Soon… she would see him soon.
Outside, the afternoon sun was bright, casting long shadows across the school grounds.
As he walked out, Sam spotted his father's car parked near the entrance and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. As if on cue, his dad, Ron Witwicky, honked the horn, drawing the attention of everyone around.
"Sammy! Over here!" Ron called, waving him over with a big grin on his face.
Sam cringed, hunching his shoulders as he hurried over to the car, trying to ignore the amused looks from his classmates. "Dad, could you not do that?" he hissed as he climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. "You're embarrassing me!"
Ron chuckled, clearly not taking his son's embarrassment seriously. "What? I'm just saying hi! Besides, I'm your ride, aren't I?"
Sam rolled his eyes, slumping down in his seat as they pulled away from the school. "This is why I need my own car, Dad. So I don't have to deal with this every day."
Ron glanced over at his son, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so you think getting a car is going to solve all your problems, huh?"
"Yes," Sam replied without hesitation. "If I had my own car, I wouldn't have to be seen getting picked up by my dad like I'm in middle school…"
Ron couldn't help but smile at his son's persistence. "Alright, alright," he said, nodding as he turned the wheel. "Let's go look at some cars then."
Sam's eyes lit up with excitement as Ron drove towards a high-end dealership. As they approached, Sam pressed his face against the window, pointing out various sports cars and luxury vehicles that lined the lot. "Oh, look at that one!" he exclaimed, his excitement palpable. "And that one! Dad, those are perfect!"
But just as quickly as his excitement had built, it came crashing down. Ron let out a laugh and shook his head, driving right past the high-end dealership and pulling into a lot across the street filled with old, beat-up cars. The kind of cars that had seen better days decades ago.
Sam's face fell as he realized what was happening. "Wait… what? No, Dad, come on!" he protested. "You can't be serious!"
"This is serious," Ron said with an exasperated chuckle. "Did you really think I'd get you a Porsche? For your first car? Are you crazy?" He shook his head in disbelief. "When I was your age, I'd have been thrilled just to have four wheels and an engine."
Sam groaned, his excitement completely deflated as he slumped back in his seat. This wasn't what he had in mind at all. He had been dreaming of something sleek and shiny, something that would turn heads. Not a clunker that would only serve to embarrass him further.
As they pulled into the dealership, Ron began browsing the rows of cars, while Sam dragged his feet, still grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of it all.
…
Meanwhile, high above the dealership, hidden behind the clouds, Peter sat in the cockpit of his ship, monitoring the scene below.
The moment Jarvis provided the information, he rushed over and spent the entire day watching Sam, waiting for this exact moment when they would arrive at the dealership.
But as Peter watched the teenager, he couldn't help but be struck by just how greedy and self-absorbed the kid seemed to be.
"Was he really like this in the movies?" Peter wondered aloud, his brow furrowing as he observed Sam's behavior. The kid was clearly obsessed with the opinions of others. And he didn't seem to have any qualms about selling off his family's history to get what he wanted.
But Peter didn't have time to dwell on Sam's shortcomings. His ship's sensors suddenly detected a strong energy signature coming from the dealership below—a piece of highly advanced technology, no doubt Cybertronian in origin, though he couldn't be sure.
Peter's eyes narrowed as he swiftly scanned the lot, determined to pinpoint the source of the signal. "Found you," he muttered, his focus now razor-sharp. He had to act fast before Sam and his father unknowingly bought the very thing he was after.
A/N: 3300 words :)
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