Chapter Text
Christopher was exhausted.
He had been walking for hours in the Hundred Acre Wood, probably in circles, since the fog had gotten thicker as time went by, and there was no sign of Winnie the Pooh. He called out to his old bear friend several times, but there was no sign of him anywhere. In fact, all he got in response were strange and very scary sounds coming from somewhere in those woods. And, although he didn't want to admit it, he was getting scared.
But Woozles and Heffalumps don't exist. That was his mental mantra, that was what he wanted to believe.
"Pooh!" Christopher called out to his friend again. "I didn't mean to scare you, silly old bear."
But again, he got no answer. He let out a long sigh and kept walking. He felt so bad for his friend and wanted to find him and apologize for his words. The truth was, he didn't know why he had lost his temper like that and been so rude to Pooh. This made him feel so ashamed of himself that he wished a hole would open up beneath him at that moment and pull him in.
His thoughts quickly escaped his mind as that frightening noise grew louder and louder, and it gave him the creeps. It was pathetic! He told himself. He was an adult, not a child who should be afraid of imaginary monsters. But he was terrified. And he felt that whatever was in that forest was getting closer and coming towards him. While screaming that Woozle and Heffalumps didn't exist as loud as he could over that terrifying sound, he ran as fast as he could to find a place to take cover.
As he ran, Christopher didn't notice the hole right in front of him and ended up falling into it all at once. His briefcase fell down beside him, along with his umbrella, and it took him a few seconds to realize what had happened until he read the sign next to it that read: 'Heffalump Trap - We've Got You'
"But I'm not a Heffalump. They're up there and I'm trapped down here." But no one seemed to hear him.
"Perfect!"
Christopher threw his briefcase out of the hole. He grabbed his umbrella to help him get out of there. He needed to do this quickly, he needed to find Pooh and apologize, help him find his friends and get back to London for his important meeting. He realized he didn't have that much time, if he hadn't gone after Pooh, he wouldn't be in this situation. But he soon realized that was a selfish thought. Pooh needed his help and it wasn't his fault he was in this situation.
Christopher attached the umbrella to a log above the hole that seemed sturdy enough for him. And with his free hand he began to climb up using the small holes in the sides to support his feet and hands. It was slippery because it had started raining, and he thought things couldn't get any worse. But he realized that his thoughts seemed too powerful that day, and just as he managed to reach the surface of the hole, the rock he was resting his hand on came loose, causing him to slip and fall back into the hole. The rock came right after and hit him square in the head. Everything went dark after that.
*
Voices were coming from somewhere. They were calling his name, but the sound was distant, almost like an echo. There was a lot of water around him, and he tried to swim, but he couldn't get out of the place. He tried several times, but nothing happened. This made him despair, before he heard the voice of his daughter Madeline in the distance: "I thought we were going to play. Summer is ending." And she sounded so discouraged and sad. Evelyn's voice sounded soon after: "You'll end up going crazy from working so much." And she sounded so tired and disappointed. Pooh's voice came closer: "Come back to us." And when Christopher could see the silhouette of his old friend at the bottom of that hole, he was happy. But soon the feeling passed.
He felt himself being pulled, sucked by something. Pooh's image disappeared, and he was alone again. He tried to swim, and swim, but whatever was pulling him was much stronger. He despaired and thought of his daughter and his wife. Christopher didn't want to stay trapped there, he didn't want to die, he needed to get out and go back to them and tell them how much he loved them and cared about them. Apologize for being away, for having wasted so much time being away from them. But none of his efforts to get out of that situation seemed to have any effect. He tried to scream, his screams turned into bubbles in the water and, once again, everything went dark.
*
“What did you do?”
“I didn't do anything. In fact, I have no idea what happened here.”
“You and your crazy ideas!”
“I thought you liked my ideas, I'm a genius.”
“Oh, shut up! He's waking up.”
Christopher could hear the voices, but his head was spinning and hurt like hell. It felt like he was back in the war, when explosions were happening all the time around him and often he and his companions ended up being hit by some debris from the explosions. But there were no explosions, in fact, everything was silent, except for the voices of a woman and a man. He forced his eyes open and realized he was no longer in the muddy hole surrounded by water. His clothes were wet, but the place was far from resembling the Hundred Acre Wood, or a forest.
Christopher felt two warm hands touch his chest and arms. He managed to open his eyes fully and was met with the face of his wife, Evelyn, looking at him with her big brown eyes. Except she looked a little different. Although her expression was one of concern, she seemed more serious, but she still had that familiar gentle look. She was also wearing red lipstick; he didn't remember ever seeing Evelyn wear red lipstick. Her hair still had the curls he remembered he liked to mess up and that she often complained about having to redo later. She was so beautiful. So beautiful that he could barely breathe as he looked at her. Even though she looked different, it didn't matter. She was his Evelyn. And he was so happy to see her.
He reached out to touch her, but she quickly dodged his touch.
"He looks fine to me." the other man said.
"He has a lump on his head and a cut that is bleeding. That doesn't look 'fine' to me. Go get someone, he needs to be checked out."
"And you're going to be alone with him?"
"I know how to defend myself. Now go get someone to help!"
The man left. The woman turned her attention to him.
"Do you know your name?"
"Christopher... Robin." She nodded with a slight smile.
Christopher reached out to touch her face, and this time she allowed him to touch her. It was completely strange to her why he seemed so fascinated by her face. He ran his finger gently down her cheek, which had turned a few shades of pink, then down her nose, lingered on her eyes — they were the most beautiful he had ever seen in his entire life — and traced her lips. This was really strange. But he smiled at her as if he seemed relieved.
"You're so beautiful. I'm so happy to see you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"What are you sorry for?"
"For everything! God, Evelyn, I'm so sorry."
"Evelyn? Who's Evelyn?" His brows furrowed.
"You! You're Evelyn."
"No, I'm Peggy. Peggy Carter."
Then he passed out again.
*
When his consciousness returned, Christopher was no longer in the same place as before – again. Now he was in a white room with faded green curtains, on a bed that was not very comfortable and that reminded him again of his time in the war when he or some of his comrades had suffered some kind of injury and had been taken to places similar to this. His head still hurt, but when he put his hand to his head, he felt a band where there should have been an injury.
When he looked to the right, he saw a jug of water and a blue glass, also faded. He leaned over a little and filled the glass with water, because his throat was dry. He was finishing his water when the curtain in front of him was opened and a man came into his field of vision. His eyebrows furrowed, the man was no taller than him, much older and had a serious expression. He reminded him of his commander during the war, he had the same rigid air. Christopher did not like that man. He thought he was a man without any kind of humanity. While many of his comrades died every day, this man treated them like numbers, with disrespect, without any kind of empathy or any kind of good feeling coming from him. The memory of that man gave him chills. This was the kind of man Christopher wished he had never met in his life.
Putting the glass he was holding — and squeezing it between his fingers without realizing it — to the side, Christopher sat up in bed. His body ached, then he remembered that in addition to the blow to the head, he had also fallen twice in that hole in the Hundred Acre Wood. Maybe that was where the pain came from, or maybe it was because he had been sleeping poorly the last two night — or weeks. Sleep had not been as important to him these past few days.
“How are you feeling, young man?” His deep voice echoed in the silent room.
“Fine.” he said simply.
The man’s eyes scrutinized him sternly, and he huddled into his coat to hide his discomfort.
“Do you remember anything that happened? Anything.” He looked very angry, but Christopher didn't remember doing anything that would justify his bad mood. He didn't even know who this man was, but the man seemed to read his thoughts.
"I'm Colonel Chester Phillips. I'm responsible for taking care of this base where you are now. And I just want..." His sentence was interrupted when a woman approached him with some papers in her hands. Her previously serious face managed to become even more serious, so Christopher understood that his apparent bad mood was directed at her.
Christopher recognized her. The same woman who was there when he first woke up. The woman who was supposed to be his wife, his Evelyn, and who seemed to have no idea who he was, or even who she was, since she said her name was Peggy. All of this didn't make sense to him. It seemed like a nightmare that was getting worse by the second.
The woman looked at him and forced a shy smile on her face before turning her attention to the older man.
“I said I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the day, Agent.”
"The sir asked me to let you know if we had any information about the latest mission.”
"Any survivors?"
"They've all returned, Colonel." The news seemed to relieve him. Turning his attention back to Christopher, he pointed a finger in his direction.
"I'm not done talking to you yet. But I need to check on some more pressing matters. Bring him to me as soon as you leave the infirmary." The last sentence was addressed to the woman next to him.
"Yes, sir!" And with that, Phillips was gone.
The two of them were alone again. The atmosphere was no less uncomfortable than before, but Peggy moved a little closer and Christopher shifted a little uncomfortably, but he didn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried.
“This is a little uncomfortable, you know? The way you’re looking at me.”
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I just…” He forced himself to look away, his cheeks flushed like a child caught doing something wrong.
“Are you feeling okay? You hit your head pretty hard. There was a big lump on your forehead and a cut that needed stitches.”
“I have a headache, but I can handle it. I just wanted to know where I am?”
“Italy.” Christopher looked at her, his eyes wide.
“Italy? No, we’re in London, in Sussex.”
“No, we’re in Italy.” Peggy assured him.
“You have to be wrong. It’s London. 1949.” Christopher said firmly.
"We are in Italy in 1943. You are on one of the American government bases in World War II."
“World War II?” She nodded.
Christopher suddenly felt sick. His stomach churned and he thought he was going to throw up. World War II. This really was a nightmare. He wished it were just another one of his nightmares about the war. The nightmares that had haunted him ever since he got home and that he had only shared with Evelyn and his doctor, whom his wife had suggested he see. She was worried because he would often wake up screaming in the middle of the night and even have panic attacks. Evelyn had given him all the support she could get her way, but he understood that she couldn’t handle everything on her own. Especially with a small child. Madeline hadn’t been six when he’d returned from the war, and she was still getting used to his presence. He couldn’t risk his daughter seeing him in one of his panic attacks, or perhaps, God forbid, hurting her in some way — though Evelyn had always assured him that he would never hurt either of them. But to ease his wife's concerns, he had agreed to seek help, and today he was grateful that she had suggested it to him.
"You don't look well, you look pale. Drink some water." Peggy filled the glass with the rest of the water from the pitcher and held it out for him to take. And when he reached for it, she noticed that he was shaking. She had noticed it too.
"This is all very confusing for you, I know. I think it's a lot to take in so quickly. It's best if we save this conversation for when you're out of here and not in pain."
"No, I'm fine, please continue." He asked gently. Peggy looked at him a little hesitantly, and he asked her again to continue. She sighed.
"You're in another universe." She blurted out bluntly. Christopher raised his blond eyebrows before bursting into laughter.
"I really have gone crazy." That had to be it. He had probably reached his limit at work and had to be admitted to some hospital for the insane. Now he was imagining things. Pooh, the Hundred Acre Wood, his Evelyn who wasn't Evelyn, another universe. His imaginative mind went into complete meltdown.
"You're not crazy." Peggy was quick to respond to his reaction. "I don't know exactly what happened or how it happened. But you ended up in my universe. Well, that, or you're from the future. Are you from the future? Tell me something from the future."
"If I didn't go crazy, then you are crazy. I'm sorry if that sounds a little rude. But I have nothing to say to you. Why are you acting different? Why are you pretending you don't know who I am?"
"But I don't know who you are." She stated as if it were very obvious.
"You know. I'm your husband, we've been married for over 10 years, we have a 9-year-old daughter. You're an architect, you love to dance, paint, pick flowers, and make cookies and pies with designs on them because it makes Madeline happy. You're Evelyn. You're my wife." His voice was filled with emotion. His breathing quickened and he held back the tears that were trying to escape his eyes. All he wanted at that moment was to have all of this back. He would give up everything, just to have his family by his side and to live all these moments — which he thought were a waste of time — with his girls.
But something in the universe was punishing him for having been away from them for so long and for having prioritized his work over his family. He was paying for his mistake. What if he never saw them again? The brief thought made him even more terrified.
"Calm down, you need to calm down." Peggy closed the distance between them even more. She felt like touching him and hugging him, even though she didn't think physical contact was her greatest virtue. She wasn't very good at comforting people in cases like his. She often felt strange and guilty about it. Well, actually, this whole thought was strange. But the man in front of her looked truly desperate and helpless, and God, she was not a cold soul. Empathy is human. And that was exactly what she felt for him at that moment.
But she didn't touch him. She waited for him to calm down before they could continue the subject.
"I'm not this Evelyn you say I am. And I'm sorry, but I don't know you either. I'm not married and I don't have a daughter. My name is Peggy Carter. I work for Colonel Phillips, I'm a government agent."
"Peggy Carter?" She shook her head. "That doesn't make sense to me."
"I'm sorry, that doesn't make sense to us either. But still..."
"You're just like her." Peggy stopped. Her eyes met his, and there was a strong intensity in them. A mix of confusion, guilt, fear, fascination, and even... love. "But you're not her."
He broke contact. The room was silent for a few minutes, as if time had stopped. A strange feeling enveloped them there, but neither of them dared to say anything for a while. Peggy herself felt uncomfortable with all this and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
“I’ll leave you alone to rest. If you need anything, you can ask one of the nurses and they’ll take care of you. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”
She didn’t wait for a response from him and left. Christopher looked at the door she had left through and finally allowed himself to cry. The tears were choking his throat, trapped and fighting to come out. Now he could free them and he cried. He cried like he had when he was a 7-year-old boy who had hurt his knees while playing. Back then, it was the greatest pain he had ever known and he thought it was the greatest pain in the world. Until he started losing the people he loved. His friends from the Hundred Acre Wood, his father, his mother and now his wife and daughter. Then he knew how deep and even more painful the pain could be.
⋆
"How is our man from another universe?" Howard asked her as soon as he saw her enter the workshop.
Peggy needed some time alone to process the strange conversation she had with "that" man. He believed she was his wife, and he seemed so sure of it, which explained the way he looked at her when he woke up and how he tried to touch her. Then "you're not her." and that left her disconcerted. She was exactly like his wife, that Evelyn, but different at the same time. Peggy concluded that it was the strangest thing that had ever happened in her life, and well, she had been through a lot of strange situations in her life.
"Confused. We need to find a way to send him home soon."
"So fast? Let's not even ask him questions, let's get some information." Howard joked as he always did, or not. He really thought this guy might have new information that would help him come up with new ideas for his inversions. But Peggy was in no mood for his jokes.
“Howard, he’s not one of your toys. He needs to go home. He has a family, we need to find a way to send him back. Or rather, you need to do it. Have you figured out how the tesseract works?”
Howard raised his eyebrows.
“Why are you so agitated? Did Phillips go too hard with the scolding?”
“He said he would like to banish you from humanity, but that’s not possible because you’re one of the biggest contributors. But he threatened to send me to hell.” He smiled wryly without a hint of humor.
“He wouldn’t do that, no one can stand that old man and no one can do the job as well as you. But still, you haven’t told me ‘why’ you’re so agitated?” He rested both arms on the metal workbench full of mechanical objects as he stared at her.
Peggy looked away. She walked away, going to another table that also contained Howard’s work materials. But there, there were shields of various shapes and sizes. She scratched the surface of one with her fingernail, making an uncomfortable noise ring in her ears.
"The stranger thinks I look like his wife. In fact, he thought I was his wife."
“You? You look like his wife? Like, physically? Like an exact copy?” He seemed oddly excited by this new information, and it made Peggy even more serious. Couldn't he take anything seriously for once in his life?
"I don't know, Howard. But it seems like his wife is a version of me, one that's completely different." Peggy wrinkled her nose.
"So you mean there are other versions of us in other universes? Is that what you're telling me? That sounds fantastic." The man's smile grew as new ideas and possibilities flooded his mind.
"I didn't say anything like that." He didn't seem to hear her. He was jotting things down on a piece of paper.
“That’s exactly what you said, or part of what you meant. Don’t you see, Peggy? If there are other universes, and there’s another version of you, then there are many more of us. And that’s something that needs to be explored.” He stopped writing anything and looked from the paper to her.
"It's strange that I always thought you and the Captain would be together forever. But apparently your other version doesn't agree with that."
Peggy's expression became even more serious. The mention of the Captain made her furious. Approaching the table where Howard sat, she slammed her hands on the cold surface. The objects made noises that echoed throughout the space, but she finally got his attention.
"Howard, find a way and fast to send that man back to his universe. A very fast way, do you hear me?" Her gaze was hard. Howard nodded, knowing it was never wise to go against an order from Peggy Carter.
His expression softened.
"Good. Now I have unfinished business to attend to."
Without saying anything else, she stomped out of the room, leaving.