There's a rather impatient set of moments in which Peggy is left standing out on her own, absently trying to get her necklace-like collar (which feels rather like her usual one, but thicker in chain and certainly tighter) to loosen, trying not to be beaten down by the people staring at the strange woman in a sheet waiting in public. She sees the shield first and it takes nearly everything to suppress the pained cry in her throat, recalling the first time she'd seen it.

She still remembers the bullets. She manages to dig her heels into the ground, unable to trust herself wholly, and she proves herself right as she drifts towards Steve, reaching out tentatively with a hand until it comes into contact with his chest.

"You really are here," she says, scanning his face with wonder, a painful contracting feeling like a vice settling over her heart. "Steve," she manages, his name heavy with grief.