The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 23

London, England

Spring 2016

It felt...good, odd but good to see Sharon again. It was nice to talking to her. And talking about Peggy? It was...it was a relief. A strange sort of relief.

And Sharon? Well, she looked good. There was no question there. And she sounded like she was doing well. Every now and then she would seem to dim and her eyes would grow damp and sad, but on the whole she seemed...at peace with Peggy's passing. But then, Steve supposed that given Peggy's age and the way her health and mind had been deteriorating these last few months, her passing was more a blessing than everything else. The Peggy he remembered? To see her keen mind fade on top of her body growing old and frail? It had been heartbreaking. She had been such a strong, clever woman with an indomitable spirit. By the time she'd died? Well...part of Steve was tempted to say that hadn't been Peggy anymore.

Save for the small glimpses of the old Peggy that still managed to surface and make him feel like a scrawny, bumbling waif of a boy again.

Lord, he was going to miss her...

But even he couldn't deny that it had been time. The Peggy he had known during the War had already passed into memory, as much as it hurt to realize, and the Peggy she had become with the passage of time and a life long lived that he hadn't been a part of had all but done the same as old age and dementia took its toll.

It was a mercy, in a way.

And it was obvious that Sharon felt the same. Yes, sadness still shadowed her smile and her laugh was more subdued than he remembered from her time living across the hall from him, but she seemed almost relieved at the same time. Steve could understand that.

It was nice to see her again. It really was. He smiled as she chuckled over one of his memories of Peggy, feeling some of the tension his grief had left in his chest easing. It was easy to remember why he'd been so interested in Sharon when she'd been his neighbour. Heck, even after he'd found out she was an agent.

But yet...here, now? Though they seemed to gravitate toward each other over the course of the reception, he couldn't say it was out of that sort of interest. Not like it had been, when he'd made excuses to chat with her in the hall for even a minute more. Now it was...simple familiarity. The link they now had through Peggy and their short time as neighbours. There was still a measure of attraction there, sure, but...

But his interest was elsewhere, now. There was no denying that, even if only to himself. Especially as he caught himself unconsciously scanning the crowd for a pale blonde head that didn't belong to Sharon...again. He shook the impulse away, reminding himself that she and Sam had left a while before to check on one of Nadine's list of abandoned safehouses.

It was easier said than done.

He liked Nadine, and no amount of rationalization that he shouldn't was diminishing his growing feelings. Not even for Bucky's sake.

He liked her. More than he should.

It was probably a good thing he hadn't kissed Nadine back there in the sanctuary...but that didn't stop him from thinking he should have. He wished he had.

It really meant more to him than he could hope to ever properly put into words that Nadine had been sitting there next to Sam. That she had been there for him. She had followed him to London, just for him. Not to continue on to Vienna as Nat had done—not that it didn't mean the world to him that Natasha had wanted to be there for him too. But with Nadine? It gave the persistent, incorrigible part of him that wanted more hope that, just maybe, there were feelings there for her too.