Fic: The Infinity Leap (1/1)
Title: The Infinity Leap
By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette
Spoilers: Through Endgame, Basic Quantum Leap Orginal Series knowledge required.
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Word Count:
Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)
Story Summary: Dr. Sam Beckett leaps into Agent Peggy Carter to write a wrong, but in the end, he may just end up righting two of them.
Story A/N: This story assumes 3 things: 1. Season 2 of Agent Carter never happened 2. The MCU up though Endgame is otherwise intact and 3. The reader has basic knowledge of Quantum Leap. Quite Frankly, this is really more of a Quantum Leap episode than anything, so I know there’s gonna be like… 5 people interested? But for those of you interested, I hope you really, really enjoy this.
Also, I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m a subscriber to the Outlander/Doctor Who version of time travel that makes the events of Infinity War possible in the Main MCU timeline. Seems Quantum Leap rules also fit into that.
This story is set in 2000, about 5 years after the last “leap” we see in the series, and assumes they get to continue the Quantum Leap program for several years.
I had hoped to really get this to a full length story, but it’s been sitting on my hard drive for a LONG time. In the end, I’m pretty happy with it, even if it isn’t exactly what I set out to write.
For Steggy Week 2023, Day 3: AU’s and Crossovers @steggyfanevents
~*~
Peggy Carter blinked.
Before she’d blinked, she’d been in the conference room, sipping the dregs of the morning coffee as Thompson addressed the room with his usual narcissistic flare.
After she blinked, she was in a white room she’d never seen before, in a white unitard she’d never worn before, and she didn’t feel a thing.
~*~
Sam took a slow breath as the tingling dissipated and did his best to keep a neutral facial expression. He kept his eyes on the man talking, hoping to feign interest. It was always hard stepping into a person when there was something happening, when people expected him to be able to contribute.
He slowly brought his hands under the table and down his stomach: a suit jacket. That seemed to track for the way the rest of the room was dressed, but he felt that funny feeling where his chest was too tight and his neck wasn’t constricted enough. A little lower with his hands and he confirmed what he’d been afraid of: a skirt. He was a woman. Again.
He wiggled his toes and rolled his ankles; at least the heels were sensible. Was he the secretary? He hated being someone’s secretary.
“So that’s it,” the man at the front said sharply, turning to hook his thumbs in his suspenders. “Any questions?”
Sam stayed quiet, hoping to get through the meeting without having to say a word. He looked down at the folder in front of him and immediately tossed the idea of “secretary” out the door. Secretaries didn’t usually have folders marked “eyes only” and “top secret.”
“Even you, Carter?” The man looked directly at Sam, and he looked up, locking gazes. “No thoughts or suggestions?”
Sam knew that tone, recognized it for the goad that it was and wished he could fire back. He almost did, as the man seemed to expect something from him, but he didn’t know what was going on, and didn’t want to change anything before he knew what he was really here to change. “No. Not right now,” he replied, shooting what he hoped was just enough of a smile laced with just enough sarcasm that the man would believe it.
“Yeah, fine. Right.” He turned back to the rest of the men around the table, seemingly upset he wasn’t going to get to spar with him. “You have your assignments.” He waved his hand and everyone stood to leave.
Sam did the same, gathering the papers and coffee in front of him, standing slowly to get used to the feeling of the heels on his feet.
A man with a crutch stopped next to him, whispering even though they were the only people left in the room. “I thought you were ready to give him hell about that plan?”
Sam shrugged, juggling the folder for a second. “Well, I decided it wasn’t the right time.”
The man sighed, stepping forward and through the door. “One of these days he’s going to listen to you, Peggy.”
Sam nodded, slowly following him out to the bullpen of desks. Peggy. Peggy… Carter. He scanned the nameplates and found a Margaret Carter in the back and made his way to the desk. The one thing that was on his side was that everyone seemed engrossed in their own work. Sam sat at the desk and kicked the heels off underneath, wiggling his toes as he looked at the clean desktop. He pulled open drawers and sifted through the papers there, finding little to go on.
He heard the woosh of the imaging room door open behind him and picked out a pad and pulled a pen to his fingers as Al’s voice drifted over him in the noisy room. “Let me tell you, Sam, this is going to be a tough one, that lady in there- she isn’t spilling a thing! We had a hell of a time finding you, and even then, it was a wing and a prayer. Ziggy’s been malfunctioning ever since you leaped, insisting you’re in the 40’s.” He spun, frustrated. “We don’t even have a name.” Sam smiled to himself and tapped the nameplate on the front of the desk, just like he was thinking.
Al moved around in front of him, meandering to look at the name plate. “Margaret Carter…” He huffed, typing it into his handlink. “Well, that’s more than we’ve gotten all morning.” Al leaned back, looking Sam over. “Wow, Sam, you’re…”
Sam looked up, annoyance on his face, but he said nothing.
Al let his hands wave in the air for a moment and sighed. “Yeah, you’re a ‘she’ for sure.” He snapped his mouth closed, for the first time realizing where they were. He looked over the clothes, the decorations on the walls, the telephone on the desk. “This looks a little…” He stepped over to the desk across from Sam where a newspaper was lying next to an Agent drinking his coffee. Al leaned over, eyebrows raising. “April 16, 1948.” He looked at the handlink as it beeped at him. “Ok, fine. You were right.”
Sam looked up, surprised, but put his head down and wrote furiously on the pad before him. “1948?”
Al looked at Sam’s note. “I mean, it’s not unheard of- you have leapt out of your lifetime before… not a lot but…” Al shrugged, then looked up at his handlink as it beeped and blinked in his hand. “This can’t be right.”
“What?” Sam wrote.
Al huffed. “Ziggy is saying that this woman is classified.” Sam’s look asked the question he couldn’t say out loud. “Well, I don’t know!” Al waved his arms, one disappearing through the man seated in front of them as the hologram interreacted with the world around them. “I don’t know how a whole, entire person can be classified. I’m gonna…” He huffed again and pointed to where Sam suspected the door to the imaging chamber was. “We’ll get it sorted. In the mean time, just…” Al shrugged, disappearing into the air.
Sam sighed, crossing out the notes on the paper until they couldn’t be seen. “Oh, boy.”
~*~
Peggy gaped at the woman across from her. “This is, frankly, the worst interrogation I’ve ever been a part of,” she leaned back and crossed her arms, fighting to keep her breathing even. She was trying to come up with a clue as to where she was or why she was taken, but the woman across from her was giving Peggy as little as Peggy was providing.
The woman sighed gently. “I’ve told you, this isn’t an interrogation. I asked your name.”
She laughed, shaking her head and sitting back into the couch more. “You’ve kidnapped me and you don’t even know my name?” Peggy looked her up and down. She was probably poisoned. Maybe gas. She couldn’t believe they’d managed to get her out of the SSR building without anyone noticing or putting up a fight she didn’t remember. It must have been gas. She wondered how many others they had. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Miss,” the young, dark- skinned woman continued, closing the notepad she had in front of her. “If you don’t cooperate, we can’t help you.”
“You’ve refused to tell me who you are or why I’m here, and you don’t even know who I am. I believe we’re done speaking.” Peggy’s mind was racing, but she was somewhat relieved to see the woman slip her pad in her pocket and stand.
~*~
Al stood at the entrance to the Starbright Project, waiting patiently. He was sure Sam needed him in some way, that he’d been gone too long now, but surely a few hours wouldn’t hurt.
He hoped.
The black SUVs stopped in front of him, and out stepped a man in a black suit with unnecessary sunglasses as it was nearly night. He turned, and helped a stately woman out of the back. She was old, older than Al, with fine lines around her mouth and an expertly twisted hairstyle. She moved toward Al with purpose, the man following just a step behind.
The woman stopped right in front of him, and the man that followed stepped next to them. “Admiral Al Calavichi?”
“That’s me,” Al gave a short salute. “And you are…”
The man nodded, then held out his hand. “Agent Coulson, and this is Former Shield Director Margaret Carter.”
“Admiral,” she started, in a soft English tone that let Al know exactly who she was, “I believe we have a lot to talk about.”
~*~
Sam was following the flow of people out of the building, thankful for the idea of a general quitting time. He turned his ankle more than once on the pumps, stumbling out of the elevator just as the sound of the imaging chamber set his teeth on edge. He turned his head, but couldn’t say anything in the crush of people. His eyes said it all: where have you been?
“I know, I know!” Al waved his hands, following Sam as he made his way through the building. “I was sidetracked by… well, you’re not going to believe it.”
Sam raised his eyebrows and stopped, hoping for a payphone but settling for the little door to the side labeled “women.” He slipped into the bathroom and checked each stall before locking the door behind him, Al floating through.
“You’ve been gone all day!” Sam accused, dropping his briefcase on the floor.
“Like I said: sidetracked.” Al shrugged, barely able to hide his excitement.
Sam leaned on the sink, exhausted. “Well, it better be good, because tht bull pen was hell. Those guys, this time…” He shook his head and caught his hat as it fell into his hands. “’Coffee, Peggy. Can you take notes, Peggy? File these, would ya, Peg?’” He made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “Leaping into women has given me such a different appreciation for them.”
“I have an appreciation for them.” Al pulled the cigar from between his teeth, his eyes unfocusing as he thought back to earlier that day, “And the one that got me sidetracked. When I tell you she was a knock-out! A ten! A real silver fox. I mean—”
“Al!” Sam turned, rolling his ankle and kicking off the heels. “You left me here all day to see a woman?”
“No, actually, I was visited by the head of one of the countries most prestigious intelligence organizations.” He shrugged, a light smile on his face, “who just so happens to be, well…” He smiled and raised his eyebrows.
Sam stared at his reflection, truly seeing Peggy for the first time, mumbling at his friend. “Let’s go, will you?”
Sam’s whisper of desperation stopped the man mid rude gesture and he shrugged. “Anyway, big to-do on arrival, she comes into my office, leaves her goon outside, and starts in on the story.”
Sam tried to straighten his hat in the mirror, feeling nothing of the complex hair style under his hands. “What story?”
“Turns out, you’ve lept into Agent Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter. She was a Great American Hero, Sam.” Al’s eyes sparkled. “During World War Two she was a code breaker with the SOE then a spy with the SSR. She was Captain America’s liaison to the agency and tracked Hydra through Europe with the Howling Commandos!”
Sam looked blankly at him, then turned to look at the soft-boned woman in the mirror that stared back at him. It didn’t make sense to him that a woman with that kind of resume was relegated to getting coffee and filing paperwork. “Must be the Swiss Cheese… none of that means much to me.”
“She’s one of the best spies who ever lived,” Al threw up his hand and paced the small bathroom. “But that’s why literally her entire life was classified.”
“Classified?” Sam barked out a laugh, pacing the small bathroom. “What do you mean, classified? We have the highest clearance of any—”
Al lifted his eyebrows, punching more buttons. “Not from SHIELD.”
“SHIELD?” Sam ran his hand over his face, shaking his head. “Why did she show up?”
“Any search for her in a government database gets flagged.” Al shrugged. “She said when she saw it was Starbright, she knew she had to come.”
“She remembers?” Sam asked, astounded.
“She can’t. Well, shouldn’t.” He dropped the handlink down and pushed his cigar back between his lips. “She didn’t say if she did or not.”
“But, if she remembers, that means what I’ve needed to change—”
“Is already changed?” Al twisted his face up and shook his head. “No. No, no, no. That’s not how…” He shrugged and sagged. “I was going to say that’s not how this works, but every time I think we have a handle on it, something surprises me.”
Sam looked at the door, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone else was going to try to get into the bathroom. “So then, did she tell you want I’m here to do?”
“No,” All huffed, twiddling the cigar. “but…”
“But?”
He changed the subject. “But Ziggy thinks you’re here to stop an assassination.”
Sam perked up. He wasn’t sure how he could make something like that happen, especially if an actual spy like Peggy hadn’t been able to. “Assassination? Of who?”
“Angie Martinelli.” Al tapped the handlink and started reading off the facts. “Angie Martinelli was a broadway actress. She and Peggy are roomates, living at the Manhattan home of one Howard Stark.”
Sam rolled his eyes, leaning back into the sink. “Now that name I remember.”
“Imagine if Tony Stark had bankrolled us…” Al mused for a moment, eyes bright. He stopped and sighed. “Missed out. Anyway,” He hit the keys again, waiting for the next bit of information to pop up. “Tomorrow afternoon, Angie will be found in her bedroom, half naked with her throat slit. It’s only after the fact that it was discovered she was hiding that someone had been stalking her, meeting her at the stage door, sending her threatening letters…”
Sam leaned back on the sink, “Is that what Peggy told you?”
“No.” All sighed and shrugged. “She made me explain Project Quantum Leap, in detail, and then nodded.”
“Nodded?” Sam asked, confused. “That’s it?”
“Once she knew what it was all about, she asked what we knew about where you were, and then she came up with the same idea Ziggy did- Angie.”
“I don’t like you running around telling other agencies about-“
“You tell SHIELD what ever they ask for, Sam. You know that.” Al, paused and shrugged. “Knew that. Anyway,” He shifted, walking through the sinks as he paced. “She said that missing that Angie was in danger was something she never forgave herself for, and if we could fix it, well…”
“Well, what?”
“She just kinda stopped and looked sad. Asked if we had any way of targeting where you went.” Al frowned. “ I told her no and then she looked up at me and said the damndest thing.”
“What?”
Al, knit his brow, shaking his head. “She said, ‘I suppose you should save her, then, who knows if his chance will ever come.”
“His who?” Sam asked as the door rattled.
“Dunno,” Al shrugged, watching Sam pull his shoes on and grab his briefcase. “She and her goon left.”
“Look, just get me to her apartment and we’ll take it from there, ok?” Sam smiled, opening the door to the face a bewildered young woman.
“Everything ok in there?” She asked, looking Sam over.
“Fine, just…” he paused, smiling, “Classified.”
Sam rushed past her, headed out to save a life.
~*~
Angie stood with her hands on her hips. “What do you mean I’m not going in today?”
Sam matched her pose, the standoff tense in the living area of the Stark apartment they shared. Angie had barely been home, and Sam had only been able to track her down with Al’s help half the time. “I mean, you need to stay home tonight. Both of us do.”
Angie walked right up to him, got in his face the way that only best friends or siblings do. “You’re gonna get me fired, Peg.”
“Call in sick,” Sam held his ground, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“To Broadway?” Angie rolled her eyes and started pacing back and forth. “What in the world could be so important that-“
Sam had one card to pull, and he hoped his plan would be right. Peggy, in the original time line, had missed that Angie was being stalked. Probably, he’d thought more times than he could count as he tried to track the girl down, because she was never around. But Angie knew some of what Peggy did for a living, even if she didn’t know all of it, and he was banking on their bond of friendship being enough cause for Angie’s trust. “Why didn’t you tell me about what’s going on?”
It was enough to get her to stop in her tracks, back to Sam. Her shoulders tightened. “Tell you want?”
“You’re being stalked.”
Angie tried to brush it off with a laugh. “What? Like corn?”
Sam shook his head. It wasn’t a term that was familiar yet. “Who's harassing you?”
“I don’t even know the guy.” Angie looked down at her feet, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing and you know it,” Sam moved closer to her, lifting her chin to him. Her eyes were filled with tears. “Tell me.”
~*~
Sam was supposed to be on a stake out, the very one he’d heard planned out as he lept into Peggy Carter. He took his own advice and called himself in sick, and now sat with a very disgruntled, and somewhat anxious, Angie, Peggy’s gun sitting next to him on the table as he read.
“Nobody’s coming,” Angie muttered, focusing on the script in her hands.
“You trying to convince me or convince yourself?” Sam asked, looking up from the newspaper in his hands.
“You,” Angie shot back, weakly.
They went back to reading, radio playing softly in the background, when after a few minutes Sam’s head popped up. It was the sound of scratching. Quiet, but there.
Angie watched as he pulled the gun into his hand, slowly standing. Sam hushed her with a finger at his lips.
The imaging chandler door opened, Al popping through. “Sam, it looks like any time between about a half hour ago and-“ He stopped, watching Sam slip through the dark apartment. “Oh, shoot, it’s happening now, isn’t it?”
Sam nodded, Angie following close behind as he swept through each bedroom, Al walking through walls and calling out as he cleared each room ahead.
“You really think someone-“
“Shh,” Sam quieted Angie again. “Stay close, ok?”
She cringed to his hips, following along like the caboose of a train. “You’re the one with the gun, I ain’t going nowhere.”
“Sam!” All called, two rooms ahead. “Here, in the Pantry. One guy coming up the dumbwaiter!”
Sam moved swiftly, Angie following. On Al’s cue, he pushed through the door to the kitchen, hitting the intruder in the face with the door and knocking him back. Angie’s screams mingled with the swing music pouring from the radio as Sam jumped on him, landing a solid right hook before tumbling him to the ground, unconscious.
Between Al’s supportive cries, Angie’s screams, and the music, Sam could barely focus as he reached for the handcuffs in Peggy’s pocket. “Angie, go call the police.”
“Aren’t you-“
Sam shook his head, sitting heavily on the man. “We need the regular police, not the SSR.”
Angie ran out of the room while All finally focused. “Good job, Sam! According to Ziggy,” he paused, tapping the handlink gently before giving it a final hard knock, “Angie lives a long life and has a fabulous career.”
“She get fired for calling in sick?”
All frowned. “Yeah, but it won’t matter. She gets picked up to be a series regular for a radio serial in a few months, then breaks into the movies.”
“Peggy?” Sam asks, slipping to the side of the intruder and sitting on the floor, one hand on him in case he woke up. “She still get to be Director of SHIELD?”
Al knocks his handlink again and it beeps. He smiles and nods. “Yup. Looks like the little information we had didn’t change, so-“ He pause,d listening to a voice only Al could hear back on the other side of the hologram. “What letter?” He waited again, and Sam watched, confused. “There is no letter!”
“Letter?” Sam asked quietly, knowing they only had a few seconds before Angie came back or their assailant came to.
Al shook his head. “Gushy is telling me there’s a letter in my office and it’s been there since Carter entered the waiting room for me to open, top secret, high priority. There’s no letter in my office.”
Sam tilted his head. “There wasn’t a letter in your office.”
Al opened his mouth to argue, but then it hit him. There hadn’t been a letter before Sam changed history.
Now there was.
“I’m gonna go read that letter.”
Al disappeared through the imaging chamber door just as Angie came back. “They’re on their way…” Her voice died out as she got a glimpse of the face of the man on the floor.
“You know him?”
Angie nodded, eyes wide. “That’s our stage manager! You mean to say he’s the one…”
~*~
Al tried to hold on to the feeling that there was no letter. He knew as soon as he stepped outside of the Imaging chamber, whatever had changed in history would feel like reality to him.
He needed to read it, to try to compare it with what he could remember.
He strode through Project Starbright’s halls without saying a word to anyone, holding his hand up to stop people from talking with him. Once in his office, he din’t even bother sitting to open the Manila envelope marked “eyes only, top secret.”
Admiral Calavichi,
If you’re reading this, that means the day has come when my younger self has shown up in your lovely white waiting room. I have been told that this is how this must happen, that to stray from this would be to mess with forces beyond all of our comprehension, and so though I have not given you any reason to trust me, I must ask that you do as I say.
If we do this right, all will stay exactly as it is, for it has already happened, and always will happen this way. Do not ask me how, for I have no understanding of it myself. What I do have is a deep desire for things to be as they are, and not as they could be.
Dr. Beckett has leaped into my younger self. You will find no record of me, as little exists. At that time I was Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR, a spy. I remember nothing of that time when I sat in your waiting room. Whatever right Dr. Beckett put wrong, I have no memory of, and cannot help you with this, but I know that he succeeded, or will succeed.
And when that is over, you must give Sam a message. You must tell him exactly this: He must go to the research level and wait. When he sees him, tell him to go home. Tell him, I’ve said to come home. 1952, to be exact.
The “him” I refer to must remain a mystery, but rest assured both you and Sam will know exactly who when the time comes, as Sam told him that much. He’ll be confused, but accepting, as time travel is not unknown to him.
You must deliver your message. It’s the only chance we’ll have to right this wrong.
Al looked for another page, for something that made sense, but there was nothing except Director Carter’s signature and a date: 1953.
~*~
Sam looked up from his desk in the SSR bullpen as Al stepped into the room, right through a desk and two men passing.
It was always jarring to see his friend moved through like a ghost.
Sam pulled over a pad and wrote, “Why haven’t I leaped yet?”
“Because I gotta show you this.” Al hovered the letter from Director Carter over the pad so Sam could read it. He waited as he watched his eyes go back and forth, Sam mouthing him over and over.
He leaned down, scribbling, “Who do you think ‘him’ is?”
Al shrugged. “No way to tell. We got bupkis on most of her life.” Al sighed. “You know where research is?”
Sam started to answer, but Al felt his heart drop as the blue lightning started to envelop him.
Sam was leaping.
There was no time to go to the research level.
There was no time to right one more wrong.
~*~
Sam took the long moment to let the blood rush to his fingers and toes, to feel the energy that crackled through him just a second ago dissipate. He took a deep breath and let his eyes see and his body feel.
Heels. Again.
Pants. A sensible pants suit.
He looked down in the small office at the papers in his hands. They were marked classified with a symbol that suddenly seemed very familiar. He looked up, searching for the answer he already knew. He picked up the nameplate on the desk and smiled.
“Director Carter,” he mumbled to himself, smiling before placing it back. “Glad to see they finally listened to you.”
He sat in the chair behind him, looking over the documents on the table to try to get a clue as to why he was there when the phone on the desk rang. “He-hello?” He stuttered out.
“Director Carter?” A male voice confidently replied, “You asked me to call when I detected that energy spike?”
“I did?” he asked, then caught himself and cleared his throat. “I did. Yes.”
“Well, I don’t know how you knew it was going to happen, but just now we got an alert from the research subbasement. Do you want me to send someout out?”
He felt fear and excitement run through him, the letter Al had shown him clear in his mind. “No, no. I’ll go.”
“Are you sure?”
He sat back, surprised after all this time they were still questioning her. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
“No, not at- I was just.”
“Thank you for the report, that will be all.” Sam hung up the phone and popped from his chair as the door to the imaging chamber opened.
“Sam—” Al started excitedly.
“I know.” Sam pointed to the plaque on the desk. “Can you get me to… the research subbasement?” he asked, carefully trying to remember the name.
“Yeah. Start moving and we’ll see what…” He tapped the hand link then pounded it against his palm as they moved out of the office. “I’m guessing down.”
Sam started through the base, trying to feign confidence as Al called out lefts and rights to bring him to a set of elevators. Once in, he hit the button and waited for Al to talk, he couldn’t say anything with the other people in there.
“So, you’re Peggy Carter again, Director do SHIELD, this time. It’s April 16th, 1970 and you’re in a SHIELD research facility at Camp Lehigh in New Jersey.” The elevator stopped, and the pair of scientist stepped off, leaving Sam and Al to descend to the lowest research level.
“And I gotta tell someone… to go home?” Sam asked. “I remembered the research level but-“
“Him was all she told us. You’re gonna know him when you see him.” Al emphasized the vagueness with his cigar, pointing it towards the doors. Al sighed, “You gotta tell him Peggy says to go home to 1952.”
“Which means he’s got to be another time traveler?” Sam asked, anxious as the elevator dinged.
He stepped out, Al following. “I’d assume, but you know what that makes out of you and me.” Al shoved the cigar in his mouth, wandering through rows of machines. “There’s nobody here, Sam.”
“There was some kind of energy spike,” Sam whispered, clearing the space one row of desks and shelves at a time. “Something has-“
“It oh.”
Sam stopped in his tracks, “What ut oh?”
Sam could see Al, frozen with his hands up, staring at a a corner he couldn’t see into. “He can see me, Sam.”
“Who?”
He pulled the cigar from his mouth, astounded. “Remember when she said you’ll know him when you see him?”
Sam slipped quietly up beside Al until he saw a figure hiding in the dark, red and white flight suit, nothing that belonged in this time, or any time Sam had ever been a part of, lifting and lowering a shimmering visor on his helmet, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. What stood out, though, was the shield on his arm. Even with his Swiss Cheese brain, Sam would have known that shield anywhere.
“Captain America,” he whispered out, in awe.
“Captain Freaking America,” Al echoed, in nearly as much shock. “She wants us to right that wrong.”
“I can hear you, too.” He let the visor stay down, his face partially hidden but the futuristic helmet. “You seem to know who I am,” Steve started, intensely. “So how about you tell me who the two of you are, and start explaining why you’re impersonating Director Carter.”
Sam smiled. “Oh, boy.”
End A/N: So, there wasn’t a place to PUT this, but the theory in my head goes that Without the visor to the suit up, Steve sees Peggy. However, with the nanotech visor up, which is partially powered by Pym particles and has been affected by traveling through the Quantum Realm, Steve can see Sam as he really is and see and hear Al. I had hoped to work that into the story, but I really liked the idea of ending on an “oh boy” for all my QL fans.
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