Back to You [An Endgame Continuation]

Pessac-Leognan

§Ｐｅｓｓａｃ-Ｌｅｏｇｎａｎ§
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p.o.v: Peggy

Things seemed to move in a slow motion once Howard left to signal for an MP to come take Zola into custody. I stared unblinkingly as he scribbled one name after another, each one feeling like a sharp needle puncturing my heart. I know Steve opened his mouth to say something, but I don't remember if any words surfaced; everything sounded muffled, as if I was under water.

Once Zola was gone, a sweating Howard called down agents from upstairs that we trusted (or hoped we could trust) to help us find the files of the people written and possibly put together their last location. We would find out later that a lot of them weren't in New York, and a certain few weren't even in the country.

Now we all stood about in the office behind the false mirror that was connected to the interrogation room. People chain-smoked anxiously as they pawed through the files, and we only got through 10 of them before Howard sauntered out claiming that he needed some air, the dank basement doing little to settle everybody's nerves.

I leaned back in my chair and flipped through some files at a distance, the German words translating seamlessly into my mind:

𝙿𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜:
𝓖𝓮𝓸𝓻𝓰 𝓖𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓪𝓾
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗, 𝙶𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢
𝓚𝓾𝓻𝓽 𝓛𝓮𝓱𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓬
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗

𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜:
𝓡𝓾𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚗, 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝚈𝚘𝚛𝚔
𝓔𝓻𝓫𝓼𝓽 𝓑𝓪𝓪𝓻𝓼
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙱𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚗, 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚜

𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚜:
𝓔𝓭𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓖𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓮𝓻
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚗, 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝚈𝚘𝚛𝚔
𝓡𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓖𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻
𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚄𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗
𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓼—

I paused as my eyes landed on the image of Richard Guenther, his beady black eyes peering into the camera. They were the eyes of a traitor, squinted by a smile that was so distorted by the quality of the picture that it almost looked demonic. I slammed the file closed, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

We got nearly three hundred names out of Zola, but I knew there had to be more that were most likely going to flee once they discovered what was occurring. And how would we know the people we sent after them wouldn't conspire against us and aid in their exile?

As my thoughts ran rapid, my eyes danced over a dusty bottle of wine in the corner, and I found myself wishing I had gone with Howard to— wherever he slinked off to. Steve too.

Steve.

I had actually gone nearly three hours without him entering my mind, which was saying something if you compare it to the last twenty-four hours. I remember him leaving to help take Zola away, but I just assumed he'd come back. And when the thick files started coming in droves, my mind shifted to the names and must've stayed there.

But now the sinking feeling had returned to my stomach— that same feeling I felt when Zola truthfully admitted to never knowing Steve was alive. The concept boggled me tremendously, and the possible reasons resurfaced: a flaw in the serum, perhaps. Or maybe when Zola was conspiring with HYDRA, they never told them about Steve.

Nonetheless, I was now thirsting for an explanation, and I found myself looking for one of my chosen agents who was currently an intern: Agent Carrie Young. Her chestnut bob was buried in a file, and I tried getting her attention.