Back to You [An Endgame Continuation]

With You Till the End pt.1

We're almost at the end of the line!!

There have been so many emotions knowing the SteveBucky duo I grew up with is moving on, so I sort of snapped and poured it all into an edit. Also, this chapter might have to be split into two because there's a lot to cover before the epilogue and.. the end of Steve and Peggy's story! But when one life is ending, another is just beginning..

I might do a continuation of FATWS episodes if I see scenes or stories I feel need expanding :)

Until then, vote/comment, and enjoy the happy ending that these amazing characters deserve! 💗

p.o.v: Peggy
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Ｗｉｔｈ  Ｙｏｕ  Ｔｉｌ  ｔｈｅ   Ｅｎｄ 𝘱𝘵. 1
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The last time I was in London, the cobblestone streets were not being pelted by a rainstorm as they were now, but by a bloody, more costly tempest. Mothers weren't pushing their children in strollers, but taking their infants into man-dug shelters to shield themselves from the eight month blitz of German explosives that began in September, 1940. The "blitzkrieg," the Luftwaffe called it. The lightning war.

And it's true— it was a powerful spectacle. As I arrived at rescue ops or escorts, I would look into the sky and see what looked like stars falling out of the sky and pummeling down to earth. I'd take cover, only to hear the ear-ringing explosions, distant screaming, and the scattering of debris that sounded like dice being thrown on a game board.

If I listened closely, I could almost hear it being mimicked by the rain, and I tightened my coat around me as I turned a corner and felt a frigid gust of wind on my face, turning my cheeks and nose pink. Maria's hospital was on this street, and I hoped she would agree to see me given we spent years in the force together and I wasn't afforded the chance to say goodbye before I was sent to rescue Erskine. It turned out I'd never return, and our responsibilities would prohibit any outside communication.

But my memories recall her as a brilliantly sharp agent with a compassionate heart. She used to tell me about her dreams to open a veteran hospital after the war— a place where people could heal from their trauma instead of bury it within them like she saw her father do after the Great War. It warmed my heart to know she had made it into a reality, but it also sunk when I realized I should've visited her years ago.

I glanced up at the weathered brick building front and large white letters that spelled "South Kensington Mental Hospital." I passed under the pavilion and through the double doors, keeping my hood up to conserve my identity.

"Can I help you, dear?" A short blonde woman asked at the front desk, covered in head-to-toe white scrubs.

I walked until I was pressed up against the slate gray check-in counter. "Yes," I began in a hushed tone. "I was wondering if you could help me find Miss Maria Collins."