"You're alive. You're here. I'm alive. Can you breathe with me?"

Aislin shudders against Peggy. "God....the things.....the things we did- saw- Laney-"

Tight hug. 

Her breath starts to catch, her lungs wheeze- asthma attack-

She shifts-

-and then Peggy’s arms are full of taller Aislin, and her breathing no longer hurts. 

She adjusts neatly to the change in cuddle angle. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, "Or find some kind of distraction?"

Aislin sighs, sadly. "I- I don't even know where to start. When everything was over, how did you-? I mean, did you? Talk?"

"You would've hated it. The war ended, and we shoved ourselves back into our little boxes, bottled everything up... I talked to Angie, eventually, but for a while I was - I didn't have anyone I trusted to talk to."

"No, how could you. No one would understand." She sighs into Peggy's collarbone. "I'm sorry. I tried to- the jackal wouldn't send me back. Like, a little."

Hug. "I know you tried, darling. I don't know if I should be mad at that jackal for separating us, or thankful he saved you..."

“Considering it was both- god. Pegs, yesterday we were saying goodbye, and now...now it’s been years.”

"It has." Cuddles. "We'll get through this, though, darling. We always have."

Aislin cuddles in close, just letting herself breathe. 

“So, uh. Does this future world have room for the former Captain America?” She jokes, weakly. 

"I always do. And people could use you still - there's so many fights still to have, politically or otherwise. You'd mean a lot at the head of a march."

"I'd feel a little bit like a war-time relic, being out in a march. Like a bayonet from the Civil War. They have you still doing missions?"

"Coordinating them, running intelligence, telling field agents what to do, mostly. Honestly, some civil rights thing or another would feel like a welcome break if my public relations agent wouldn't have a hissy fit."