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Fic: Magic Touch
Title: Magic Touch
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Peggy and her husband
Rating: G
Summary: She'll never know how much he helps her...
Warning: Peggy's scene from Winter Soldier -- takes place some time between Winter Soldier and Ant-Man ; early-onset of her condition (no recall if it was officially specified) *Written for Magic and Science at writerverse.
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to Marvel, Joss, Disney, and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
She's running through the woods, trying not to look behind her. There's no sound, save for the snow crunching under her boots and the pounding of her heartbeat. Peggy doesn't know what's chasing her, but stopping, even for a second, will mean certain death. Or worse, capture. Her grandchildren always tease her for 'being such a Hermione', when she imparts old war stories to entertain them. However, in this moment, it's 1943 and she's back in the war, with no grandchildren to worry about.
Her only concern is escaping whatever it is that's chasing her through the snowy landscape.
She doesn't know when the nightmare started - it's always the same one - and, honestly, Peggy doesn't even know that she has it, most nights. All she does know is that, some mornings, she wakes up just a little more tired than she was the night before. Some mornings, it's the headache or neck-ache that requires one more aspirin tablet; it's that cup of strong coffee, from the diner at the corner, after the one had in the kitchen. It's the look of exhaustion in her husband's eyes that he tries to play off.
Peggy stops in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by a wall of trees, with blackness behind them. Something cracks, somewhere, and she spins around, breath held and waiting for whatever is chasing her to show itself. Her heart is racing and her shoulder twitches as she reaches for the gun she doesn't have.
"Peg," she hears; a low whisper from a voice she knows. She feels the lightest pressure on her wrist - her husband's hand has gently taken hers - and, in an instant, she's warm and it's pitch black. She's out of the woods and home in her bed. Her breathing slows, her whole body relaxes, and she falls into a deep sleep as his arms close around her.
That's all for tonight; now, he can sleep.
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Peggy and her husband
Rating: G
Summary: She'll never know how much he helps her...
Warning: Peggy's scene from Winter Soldier -- takes place some time between Winter Soldier and Ant-Man ; early-onset of her condition (no recall if it was officially specified) *Written for Magic and Science at writerverse.
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to Marvel, Joss, Disney, and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
She's running through the woods, trying not to look behind her. There's no sound, save for the snow crunching under her boots and the pounding of her heartbeat. Peggy doesn't know what's chasing her, but stopping, even for a second, will mean certain death. Or worse, capture. Her grandchildren always tease her for 'being such a Hermione', when she imparts old war stories to entertain them. However, in this moment, it's 1943 and she's back in the war, with no grandchildren to worry about.
Her only concern is escaping whatever it is that's chasing her through the snowy landscape.
She doesn't know when the nightmare started - it's always the same one - and, honestly, Peggy doesn't even know that she has it, most nights. All she does know is that, some mornings, she wakes up just a little more tired than she was the night before. Some mornings, it's the headache or neck-ache that requires one more aspirin tablet; it's that cup of strong coffee, from the diner at the corner, after the one had in the kitchen. It's the look of exhaustion in her husband's eyes that he tries to play off.
Peggy stops in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by a wall of trees, with blackness behind them. Something cracks, somewhere, and she spins around, breath held and waiting for whatever is chasing her to show itself. Her heart is racing and her shoulder twitches as she reaches for the gun she doesn't have.
"Peg," she hears; a low whisper from a voice she knows. She feels the lightest pressure on her wrist - her husband's hand has gently taken hers - and, in an instant, she's warm and it's pitch black. She's out of the woods and home in her bed. Her breathing slows, her whole body relaxes, and she falls into a deep sleep as his arms close around her.
That's all for tonight; now, he can sleep.