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Chapter Text

Chapter One

August 1947

Los Angeles, California

After checking her wristwatch for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, (Y/N) frowned in worry but continued to absentmindedly stir her tea as she once again rested her cheek in her palm. “C’mon, Peg, where are you?”

To say that she was surprised to receive her old friend’s call the day before would have been an understatement; she and Peggy had lost touch after the war due to…various reasons, and after the chaos of moving across country to Los Angeles, she’d realized that she lost Peggy’s telephone number. But despite the happiness she’d felt when they arranged to meet at her local automat, she now felt a sense of dread, because Peggy Carter wasn’t the sort of woman who would suddenly reconnect with someone without good reason. She’s also not the sort one can easily say ‘no’ to, she thought as her brow furrowed.

“(Y/N)?” (Y/N)’s head shot up to see the woman in question standing before her with a smile brightening her features. “Oh, it’s great to see you again!”

Jumping up from her seat, (Y/N) pulled her into a tight hug and let out a cheerful laugh. “Peg, you look wonderful! I think the past couple of years have been a bit kinder to you than me, though.”

“Nonsense,” Peggy pulled away and gave her an appraising look. “You’re as lovely as ever, (Y/N), this California sun definitely suits you!”

They sat down at the booth and exchanged pleasantries while a waitress poured them both fresh cups of tea; once the waitress walked back to the counter, Peggy set her teacup down and clasped her hands together. “You must be wondering why I asked to meet you after so long…or how I even managed to obtain your telephone number, for that matter…”

(Y/N) sipped her tea and shrugged noncommittally. “Well, I assumed it wasn’t because you wanted to swap old war memories. And as for my telephone number, I know first-hand how resourceful you can be. What’s going on, Peg?”

“As you know, I chose to continue working for the SSR once the war ended. After spending a year with the New York branch, I decided to transfer to the new West Coast branch here in Los Angeles.” Peggy’s brow furrowed as she pursed her lips. “We’re understaffed, (Y/N). This branch is bigger than New York’s, and we’ve been struggling to balance all our cases and operations with our severely limited manpower and to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure how much longer we can continue like this.”

“I’m sorry, it sounds like your agency is under a lot of stress but what’s all that got to do with me…?”

Peggy’s eyes flicked up from her tea to meet hers. “What we really need is a codebreaker.”

“Oh.” Looking down at her lap, (Y/N) fought to keep her voice from quaking as she spoke. “Peggy, you and I have known each other for a long time, been through thick and thin together. If you’d asked me for any other favor, I’d agree in a heartbeat, but this…?” She shook her head to rid herself of the memories that had resurfaced and began gathering her things. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“(Y/N), please-”

“No.” (Y/N)’s eyes began to water and she rapidly blinked away the tears as she regarded her old friend. “After Düsseldorf, I swore I’d never work with the United States government again, and I don’t intend on going back on that any time soon. As my friend, I thought you’d understand that and respect my decision. There are other codebreakers out there willing to join the SSR, so go recruit one of them.”

Peggy’s hand darted forward grabbed her wrist to stop her departure. “None of them are nearly half as skilled as you are and you know it.”

“Let go, Peg.”

“Not until you hear me out. As your friend, I thought you’d at least extend me that courtesy.” Arching her eyebrow, Peggy stared at her with an unwavering gaze and after a tense moment, (Y/N) settled back into her seat. “Thank you. I know that what happened to…well, I know it’s been difficult for you, these past few years. But you can’t allow your past to trap you in the shadows for the rest of your life. That’s a lesson I recently had to learn for myself, actually.” Letting go of her wrist, Peggy took her hand in hers as she spoke. “I promise you, what happened in Düsseldorf will never happen again, not with the SSR. You have the opportunity to aid countless people with your skills, just as you did during the war, and you know as well as I do that a person’s desire to help others isn’t something that disappears easily, (Y/N).”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) looked down at their clasped hands. “Peg…I-I have to think this through…”

“Of course, take all the time you need.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “I spend the majority of my time at the office, so don’t hesitate to call. And…it really has been lovely seeing you again, (Y/N), I’ve missed you.” Smiling kindly, she squeezed her hand before letting go and getting up from the booth, leaving the business card resting on the linoleum tabletop.

(Y/N)’s eyes trailed Peggy as she went to the front counter to pay her bill and walked out of the automat; once her friend disappeared through the revolving door, she let out the breath she hasn’t realized she’d been holding. She knew deep down that everything Peggy had spoken of was the truth, but that didn’t make the situation any easier for her to handle. Of course I miss being able to help others, she thought to herself, but I-

Her eyes drifted down to Peggy’s business card and her brow furrowed when she noticed neatly-written symbols surrounding the familiar logo of the SSR. Pulling her reading glasses out from her purse and slipping them on, she picked the card up and couldn’t suppress her exasperated smile when she finished translating the simple code Peggy had penciled in.

“May our glasses stay full, our guns stay loaded, and our garters stay on.” (Y/N) murmured, running her finger over the black ink as she recalled her and Peggy’s old drinking toast and the fateful night they’d created it…

“A toast, my dear Agent (Y/L/N), to a successful first field mission!”

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head at her friend. “No, no, I can’t take all the credit, Peg! You were the one out there in the thick of it, guns blazing and everything. I just decoded some messages so you deserve the toast, too.”

Peggy pretended to ponder her answer before raising her glass and grinning, “Well, then, a toast to the both of us! May our glasses stay full…hmm, what should come after that?”

“Our guns stay loaded?” (Y/N) offered with a smile.

“And our garters stay on!” They both exclaimed before clinking their glasses together and dissolving into a fit of giggles as they drank…

“Damn you, Peggy Carter.” Ignoring all her doubts and uncertainties, (Y/N) jumped up from the booth and quickly paid for her tea before hurrying out of the automat after her old friend. Once she stepped out onto the sidewalk, her eyes landed on none other than Peggy, who was leaning against a lamppost as she examined her crimson-painted nails.

Peggy's attention remained on her nails until (Y/N) neared her and cleared her throat; she glanced up with a feigned look of surprise. “Oh, did I forget my lipstick in there? Honestly, I can be so forgetful sometimes, it’s-”

“Cut the crap, Carter.” (Y/N) lifted her hand and twirled the business card between her fingers. “This was a low blow, Peg, even for you. You seriously believed that you could trick me into changing my mind by coding our old drinking toast?”

“Well, that depends. Did it work?”

“…Oh, shut up.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles

“Sousa, I’ve got more important things to do this morning than interview some egghead pencil-neck geek with you. Go get your gal to do it.”

Jack glanced up from his paperwork in time to see Daniel roll his eyes in exasperation before answering. “I already told you, Jack, the codebreaker’s an old friend of Peggy’s and it would be a conflict of interest if she were present. Besides, she’s busy tracking down another lead on that shooter of yours.”

“Oh.” At Daniel’s words, the freshly-healed gunshot wound on his chest twinged uncomfortably, so Jack brought a hand up to furtively rub at it as he continued. “All right, Chief, when’s this shin-dig supposed to happen? ‘Cause I ain’t got all day to wait around, you know.”

“Peggy said not until eleven, but it could be any time between then and now. Say, you mind waiting here while I take these files down to Samberly, in case the codebreaker shows up early?”

“Sure, just hurry up, would you? I don’t wanna be stuck talking gobbledygook alone with this guy.”

If there was one thing Jack truly despised, it was the way smarter people flaunted their intelligence and made others feel like crap for not knowing about things like quadratic equations and iambic pentameter. Jack was smart – he’d gotten into Cornell on his own merits, after all – but he was certainly no Einstein and that was fine by him. But he’d met way too many people in college who thrived in making others like him feel that they were beneath them; he already believed the SSR had too many scientists on their hands, so he couldn’t understand why Sousa would hire yet another one to clutter the West Coast office.

Daniel stood and slid his arm into his crutch. “Aye aye, Chief.” After giving him a small salute, he grabbed his files and limped out of their shared office.

Unable to refocus on his paperwork, Jack tossed his pen down on the desk, leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles on the edge of the desk as he allowed his thoughts to wander. Nearly a month ago, he’d been shot in his hotel room as he prepared to head back to New York after they solved the Zero Matter case; the hotel staff had found him right after and from what the doctors said, he’d have been a cooked goose if they’d shown up any later. But unfortunately, since he’d been the target of an attack by an unknown suspect or organization, he was forced to stay in Los Angeles with the West Coast SSR until the case was either solved or closed.

Hopefully that’ll be any day now, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance; he hated everything about Los Angeles, from its absurd traffic jams and sweltering heat to the utter lack of any decent food. He hated the fact that he wasn’t a real chief, that as long as he was in Los Angeles, he was virtually useless. The women were all good-looking but with the open case and…well, his own off-the-books investigation, he sadly didn’t have any time to chat up dames…

“Um, Chief Sousa?” Jack’s eyes flew open and landed on a woman standing in the doorway with a hesitant look on her face. Speak of the devil, he thought with an inward smirk. “I’m sorry to, ah, disturb you, Chief Sousa, but we have an appointment…?”

Jack yawned and stretched his arms out. “You’ve got the wrong guy, doll, the name’s Jack Thompson. Sousa’ll be back any minute, though, he’s just takin’ care of some paperwork.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “Do you mind if I sit here and wait for him, then?”

“Go ahead.” She gave him a nod of thanks and took a seat in the chair beside Sousa’s filing cabinet; she immediately pulled out a file from her purse and a pair of wire-framed glasses, which she slipped on before beginning to skim the file. Jack observed her with mild curiosity from his own seat; the sunlight streaming through the office’s window illuminated the woman’s smooth skin and made her styled (Y/H/C) hair nearly glow, and her (Y/E/C) eyes, although partially obscured by her reading glasses, had an intensity to them that intrigued him. The women of Los Angeles were all knock-outs, sure, but the one sitting across the room from him had a quiet and effortless beauty to her that had instantly caught his attention; it wouldn’t hurt to try your luck with her, he told himself, could be worth a shot.

He was jostled from his thoughts when she suddenly spoke up, her eyes still trained on her file. “I’d appreciate it greatly if you’d stop ogling me like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He bit his lip as he tried thinking of another approach. “So, um, what’re you here to see Sousa about?”

“I’m afraid that’s between me and your boss.” The woman looked up from her file with a raised eyebrow and after appraising him for a moment, her gaze softened. “But if we’re asking questions, then why’re you in the chief’s office and not in the bullpen with all the other agents?”

Jack leaned father back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head with an easy-going shrug. “Just keeping his seat warm, helping him out with some cases, that sort of thing. You know, it’s a wonder how the branch managed to get anything done before I came along.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here holding down the fort.” She quipped, closing her file and taking off her glasses. “I’ve heard talk that this branch was having a, ah…well, a challenging time running smoothly.”

He chuckled. “You could say that again. You know what the chief’s doing now? He’s gonna hire another egghead, this time a codebreaker. Can you believe that?”

The woman didn’t smile or laugh, but instead furrowed her brow. “I take it you don’t approve of codebreakers, Agent.”

“I don’t mind ‘em but let me put it this way: it’s post-war America and the last thing the SSR needs at a time like this is another pencil-necked, stuttering brainiac who thinks they’re better than everyone else just ‘cause they’re a little bit smarter. And it’s actually Chief, not Agent.” Jack corrected, grinning with self-assurance as he swung his legs off the desk and leaned forward in his chair. “Chief Thompson. What about you, doll, what’s your name?”

The woman crossed her arms and spoke, her voice all of the sudden dripping with malice. “Two chiefs for one office? I guess Peg was right about this branch…not that I was expecting any better of the SSR, of course. In my experience, government agencies have always been prone to stupidity.”

For the first time in a long while, Jack struggled to find his words and finally settled on, “You know Marge.”

“If you’re talking about Peggy Carter, then yes, she’s the one who recommended me for the open position of pencil-neck, stuttering brainiac.” She rose from her seat with narrowed eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “And it seems to me that all the issues with the SSR could be quickly resolved if there were more of us around and less of you arrogant, self-absorbed flyboys.”

His indignation rising, Jack jumped to his feet and stepped around the desk to stand before her with his arms crossed. “And apparently I was right about specs always needing to be the smartest in the room. You know, that sort of attitude could get you into a lotta trouble someday-”

“Are you threatening me, Chief Thompson?”

“So what if I am?! I outrank you, and I-!”

“Hey!” Daniel voice cut through the room, and Jack’s head whipped around in time to watch the chief limp into the office and slam the door closed behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Jack, the whole damn building can hear you!”

Jack pointed an accusing finger at the woman. “Sousa, you can’t seriously be considering hiring this…this dame!”

“Call me ‘dame’ one more time and I’ll take that finger of yours and shove it right up your-”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Let’s all calm down, shall we?” Jack let out a huff of frustration and flopped back down at his chair, watching as Daniel took a step towards the woman and offered her his hand. “I’m really sorry about all that, Miss…?”

The woman hesitated a moment before giving his hand a shake. “(Y/L/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It’s good to finally meet you, Chief Sousa, Peggy’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“All good things, I hope. Peg told me a little bit about you too, but I was hoping to learn more during this interview.” He gestured for her to sit in the chair facing his desk and as she situated herself, he made his way around his desk and set his crutch to the side before taking a seat. “Um, just pretend Chief Thompson isn’t here. I’m legally required to have another SSR agent sit in on interviews and he’s the only one not busy right now, so…”

(Y/N) shot Jack a contemptuous glare before smiling kindly at Daniel and handing over her file. “Oh, that certainly won’t be a problem, Chief.”

“All right, then let’s get things started. Can you tell me a little about your background and your experience with codes?”

“Of course. I graduated from Stanford University in 1940 and served five years overseas; two years stationed at the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park in London and the other three in the field with the OSS. You’ll see in my file that while I was officially an OSS operative, I was loaned out to the SSR to serve as a field codebreaker and upon Captain Rogers and Colonel Chester Phillips’ recommendation, I was assigned to the Howling Commandos to serve as their personal codebreaker from 1943 to 1945. I’ve worked with and have mastered dozens of variants of codes, and I was one of the minds behind the Native American Code Talkers. In the field, I took part in over fifty missions with the OSS, the SSR and the Howling Commandos; the intelligence I decoded aided in the take-down of all Hydra bases and was integral to several other highly-classified operations that I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

Daniel let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “That’s quite the resumè, Miss (Y/L/N). It says here in your file that you trained Agent Carter in codebreaking at Bletchley Park?”

While (Y/N) gave her reply, Jack jotted down a quick note on the corner of his report. Once he finished, he gave Daniel’s foot a nudge and tilted the report in his direction so the chief could read it.

“So, um, Miss (Y/L/N), have you…?” Daniel’s eyes darted between Jack’s note and the codebreaker’s face. “Ah…” Sighing, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Jack, your handwriting’s shit so you might as well ask her your own damn question yourself.”

Jack scowled and met (Y/N)’s annoyingly expectant gaze. “Have you actually been trained as an agent or did the Howlies babysit you during the war?”

“Thompson!”

“It’s all right, Chief Sousa. To answer your question, Chief Thompson: yes, I received basic training before I was assigned to the field, the same as any other soldier.” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do you have any other questions for me? I want to be sure that you’re on the same page as we are.”

Jack clenched his jaw. “Where do you get off-?”

“Thank you for coming in, Miss (Y/N).” Daniel got to his feet and shook her hand again. “I still need to run a couple routine background checks but as far as I’m concerned, you’re hired. You’ll get a call from me once everything is set.”

 The codebreaker’s face broke into a grin as she stood. “Thank you, Chief Sousa. I’m looking forward to working with codes and the SSR again, and I’ll be sure to keep a lookout for that phone call. I hope you have a good rest of your day!”

She collected her things and walked out of the office without so much as a passing glance at Jack, who let out a snort of derision. “Sousa, you must really be flipping your lid this time, you can’t seriously hire-”

“Don’t tell me how to run my office, Thompson. We needed a codebreaker and she’s easily the most qualified applicant we’ve had.” Daniel snapped, sitting back down and resuming his paperwork. Jack couldn’t help but feel a little impressed; Daniel had come a long way from being a meek agent in NYC, even if he occasionally made stupid decisions like hiring (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

After about fifteen minutes, Daniel looked up from his work with a curious expression. “You know, I’ve never seen you so antsy about a woman before. What’s up?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way. We better find my would-be murderer soon so I can get the hell back to New York and never see her again.”

Daniel appeared as if he’d reply, but at that moment Peggy entered the office; the chief’s expression softened as he gave her a smile, looking every bit the lovesick idiot he was. “Hey, Peggy, how’d your lead pan out?”

“It didn’t, unfortunately. My potential witness was involved in an automobile accident early this morning, I arrived at the scene just after the coroner.” Peggy’s eyes flicked to Jack’s and softened with sympathy. “It seems as if you’ll be staying with us a while longer, Thompson.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles

Despite the reservations she first held about re-joining the SSR, (Y/N) had slowly but surely grown to enjoy working for the federal agency. The other agents were surprisingly welcoming of her and most importantly, she was able to work with codes again, something she had missed dearly since the end of the war.

Well, there are also things about this place I definitely don’t enjoy, she thought to herself as she watched Jack Thompson stroll through the bullpen. When she first laid eyes on him, she recalled thinking he was handsome and that he looked charming when he smiled; her opinion of him, however, changed drastically the moment he said something idiotic. For the past two weeks, she’d hoped that he would return to his New York branch to no such avail, so she resolved to avoid him altogether.

“Glaring at him won’t make him go away any sooner.” (Y/N)’s head whipped around to see Peggy leaning against her desk with a smirk on her face. “Believe me, I’ve tried many times with that one.”

She shrugged, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Still worth a shot, isn’t it? What can I do for you, Peg?”

“These coded messages came through from an informant of mine, but I’m having a difficult time decoding them.” Peggy handed her several pieces of paper with numbers and symbols scribbled on them and continued as (Y/N) slipped on her reading glasses to take a closer look. “I’ve already told him that codes aren’t needed for our correspondence but the man’s as stubborn as a mule…”

“Your informant’s name wouldn’t happen to be Harry Belwill, would it?” Peggy nodded and (Y/N) laughed. “I knew it, Harry’s codes were always easy to spot! He’s the one I told you about, the one I was partnered with when I was first recruited into the codebreaking class at Stanford.”

Peggy’s eyes dawned with realization. “Ooooh, so he’s the Canadian fellow who had the disastrous affair with that American nurse!” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’ll have to ask him about that. Do you think you can decode them?”

(Y/N) nodded, reaching for her pen and a pad of paper and beginning her work as she replied, “Of course I can. You see, each codebreaker has their own style when it comes to their codes and depending on the skill of the codebreaker, their codes could either be difficult to crack or only look difficult to crack. It’s simple but you’d be surprised how easily you could fool someone like that.” She chuckled in amusement and continued to jot down the translated messages. “And if you happen to personally know the codebreaker and their style, it’s even easier. When I knew Harry, he was fascinated with the idea of blending two different codes together; I guess he still feels the same because with these codes, he decided to blend a Caesar Shift and an A1Z26. Simple, but effective…here you go!”

“You know, (Y/N), you’re easily the smartest person I’ve ever met.” (Y/N) grinned bashfully and waved her off, but Peggy continued. “I’m serious! The SSR is far better off now that you’re here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t even be here if not for you and your charming persistence, Peg.” (Y/N) smirked up at her old friend as she shrugged noncommittally. “Did you want to go and grab some lunch at the diner? I’m having a hankering for a turkey and Swiss, and-”

“Agent Carter, Agent (Y/L/N), can I see you two in here for a minute?” Daniel’s voice called out from his office’s open doorway. Giving Peggy a look of confusion, (Y/N) stood and followed her old friend into the chief’s office. “I just got a call from the L.A.P.D. and they need to consult with the SSR on a bank robbery; I’m assigning you two and Thompson onto this one.” (Y/N) pursed her lips to hide her displeasure as he handed Peggy a file. “This is Level Three, so you’ll need to leave for the crime scene as soon as you can.”

Peggy nodded. “Of course.” She turned to (Y/N) and handed her the file. “Do you mind driving?”

“Of course not, I’ll go bring the car around…and if I see Thompson, I suppose I’ll let him know about the case.” She gave the two of them a tight smile and left the office before grabbing her purse from her desk. Turning to leave the bullpen, she caught sight of Peggy and Daniel through the open doorway; they spoke in hushed tones, Daniel grinning at something Peggy said before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. They’re so adorable that it’s borderline sickening, (Y/N) smiled to herself and continued on her way out of the office. She was happy for her friend; after seeing how difficult the death of Steve Rogers had been on her, it was nice to see that she had moved on from her grief and reopened her heart to a good man like Daniel Sousa.

Ten minutes later, (Y/N) parked in front of Auerbach Theatrical Agency and began flicking through the file Peggy had given her. It appeared to be a standard bank robbery, but the way the crime scene was described gave her pause because there was no way the vault door could have actually been-

“1946 Chevrolet Fleetmaster Convertible. A nice make and model, sure, but the color’s a little flashy for my taste.”

After closing her eyes in exasperation and exhaling through her nose, (Y/N) regarded Jack Thompson with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did you say something? The pattern of your tie distracted me; I almost mistook it for a picnic blanket.”

Jack only smirked and leaned his hip on her car. “Cute. Don’t forget that this is your first case, Specs, so Carter and I are taking point. Do us a favor and stay out of our way.”

“Oh, believe me, the last thing I’d ever want is to be in your way, Flyboy.” She snapped back, flipping the file closed and taking off her reading glasses before crossing her arms. “Now, are you going to lean against my car all day or are you going to get in?”

“Stop squabbling, you two, we have work to do.” Peggy brushed past Jack, opening the passenger side door and sliding in; Jack scoffed and Peggy gave him an impatient look. “The backseat’s all yours, Thompson.”

As much as the cocky asshat annoyed her, (Y/N) couldn’t deny the feeling of satisfaction that came from watching a fuming Jack Thompson awkwardly clamber into the backseat of her emerald-green car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You must be the SSR!” A short-statured officer with thinning hair approached them the moment they entered the bank. “David Learman, I’m the officer in charge of this case.”

Peggy shook his outstretched hand. “I’m Agent Carter, this is Agent (Y/L/N) and Chief Thompson. If you could direct us to the scene of the crime, Officer Learman, that would be very helpful.”

“Of course.” Officer Learman turned and led them through the police-filled bank. “I wasn’t sure who to contact about this, it’s like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before.”

Jack remained unfazed. “Well, we’ve seen a lotta things in our time so you called the right people. Got any leads on suspects yet?”

Officer Learman shook his head. “Not a damn one. The robbers caused a diversion that distracted the guards just long enough for them to break into the vault. Stole up to forty thousand dollars in gold, and they were long gone by the time the guards suspected anything and checked the vault.”

“Excuse me, Officer, but I was reading the brief description of the crime scene and something about it sounded a little off. It said that the vault door had been melted…?”

“Take a look for yourself, Agent (Y/L/N).” Officer Learman stopped walking and stepped out of the way, and the sight before them made (Y/N) gasp aloud. The bank’s enormous vault was open and what remained of its thick metal door laid in a silvery puddle on the ground; beside the puddle sat a chrome colored rectangular box with different colored buttons along its side. Other officers gathered in small groups around it, muttering to each other as they gave the puddle looks of apprehension. “We think they accidentally dropped that doo-hickey on the way out.”

(Y/N)’s blood began to boil when she caught one officer staring wolfishly at Peggy’s backside, but before she could say or do anything, Peggy stepped forward and addressed the men. “The SSR is taking over this case; I need the crime scene cleared and I need to speak to all the witnesses you have. I also will require every single piece of evidence your officers have collected so far.”

“Hey, who do you think you are, lady, comin’ here and stealin’ our case?”

Jack turned towards the source of the voice. “Federal agents of the United States government, so unless you wanna spend some time in a federal penitentiary for obstruction of justice, I suggest you back off and do as Agent Carter says. Capiche?”

The officers all quickly nodded and began carrying out Peggy’s demands, making her old friend quietly chuckle. “They always require that small push, don’t they? Thompson, I want you to interview those witnesses and secure the statements they already gave to the police. And try not to intimidate them, we need all the information we can get.”

“Not a problem, Marge, I can be charming.” He flashed her a wink and grin.

“Agent (Y/L/N), I want you to take samples of the liquid and document that device. Don’t let it out of your sight, as it’s currently our only piece of evidence.” Peggy ordered. “I’m going to go speak with Officer Learman to make sure the case transfer goes smoothly, and I’ll call in the SSR’s crime scene cleaners. Once you finish, head back to the office with Thompson and the evidence; I’ll hitch a ride back with the cleaners.” She gave her a bolstering pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Jack turned to (Y/N) with a scathing look. “Try and be quick, won’t you? We don’t have time to sit around and wait for an egghead to figure out how to document a crime scene.” Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her quietly seething at his patronizing words. Rise above it, girl, she thought as her jaw tightly clenched, don’t stoop to that ass’s level.

With the equipment the police officers had reluctantly allowed them to use, (Y/N) set about snapping photographs and collecting samples of the silvery substance. She filled three glass evidence jars and labeled them, careful that the liquid stayed away from her bare skin. Once she secured the jars in a leather bag stamped with the symbol of the SSR, she slipped on her reading glasses and turned her attention to the strange metallic device that laid beside the silvery puddle.

“That doo-hickey must’ve really packed a wallop!” She glanced up to see a dark-haired officer standing near her, his eyes filled with wonder as he took in the crime scene. “This somethin’ you’ve seen before, Agent (Y/L/N)?”

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved into a smile; judging by his child-like giddiness and youthful face, she assumed that he was a rookie officer. “I can’t say that I have, Officer…?”

“Oh, it’s Zhang, Officer Henry Zhang.” Henry shook her hand and flashed her a bright grin. “I’m pretty new ‘round here, I’ve only been a cop for seven months.”

“You’ve been at this longer than I have, then; I’ve only been with the West Coast SSR for two weeks now.” (Y/N) bent down and retrieved the metallic rectangle, careful not to press any of its buttons as she examined it. Her eyes trailed along the metal, looking for anything that could indicate what it was or where it came from, and at the bottom of the device, she was rewarded with a small etching. “Officer Zhang, would you mind handing me the magnifying glass by my case?”

He quickly followed her request and silently watched as she took a closer look at the mark; it appeared to be some sort of coat of arms, and she could make out an etching of a horse surrounded by vines. Unfortunately, part of the etching had been damaged so it was impossible to see the entire coat of arms. “Can you hold this while I grab the-”

“Camera?”

She looked up to see her camera already in his hands, and she couldn’t repress her surprised chuckle. “You’re a fast one, Officer Zhang.”

Henry shrugged. “Ah, it’s just nice to feel helpful, ya know? The other guys still treat me like a kid, so I don’t get to do a lot of hands-on investigation at crime scenes. You want me to get a few shots of the doo-hickey?”

Several chatter-filled minutes later, (Y/N) completed all her evidence documentation and had learned the abridged life story of Officer Henry Zhang; as he rambled on and on about his job and family, all (Y/N) could think about was that the L.A.P.D. was lucky to have someone as thoroughly dedicated to their job as Henry Zhang was.

“Well, Officer Zhang, it was wonderful talking with you, and thank you for all your help with the evidence!” (Y/N) snapped the case shut before taking off her glasses. “And I wouldn’t worry about the others if I were you. You’re an incredibly dedicated officer, so don’t let them make you believe you’re not; who knows, maybe one day you might be their superior officer!”

“Wouldn’t that be swell!” Officer Zhang laughed and pulled a business card out from his shirt pocket before offering it to her. “You seem like a very capable agent, ma’am, but in case you ever need any help from the L.A.P.D., here’s my desk number.” After accepting his card, (Y/N) bid him goodbye and gathered her things before carrying it outside.

“I see you found an eager little beaver to do your work.”

She scoffed at Jack’s words and continued to walk towards her car without looking at him. “I didn’t realize it was against the policy of the SSR to ask for help during a joint investigation, I’ll be sure to discuss it with Chief Sousa when I get back to the office. Thank you for your concern, Chief.”

“I mean, it’s kinda surprising that a smart person like you needs the help of a rookie cop. From what I saw, though, you two were sharing a lot more than evidence processing tips.”

(Y/N) whirled around to face him, unable to ignore his jabs any longer. “Seriously, what the hell’s your problem, Thompson?! All I’m trying to do is my job and you’re always standing there busting my ass for it! Do you get your rocks off bullying me, or do you seriously think that just because you’re the big strong Navy Cross winner you’ve got the right to order me around? Quite frankly, it’s pissing me the hell off so-”

“If you don’t like it, then go ahead and quit.” Jack strode up to her, his hands on his hips and a cruel smile. “You obviously can’t cut it working with the SSR again. You’re weak and you’re emotional, and you’re the last thing this agency needs at a time like this. So do everyone here a favor and leave, before you end up getting somebody killed.”

“Screw you, Thompson.” Feeling the tears beginning to well up in her eyes but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, (Y/N) turned on her heel and stormed to her car; after securing the evidence in the trunk, she sped away from the bank and didn’t bother wiping the flood of tears away from her cheeks. She was far too preoccupied with reliving the painful memories of Düsseldorf, of the tragedy that she had failed to prevent in 1945.

“Leave, before you end up getting somebody killed.”

Jack Thompson didn’t have a single clue just how much blood (Y/N) already had on her hands, but no matter what she did or how hard she tried, she could never forget.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Stark Mansion, Los Angeles

Just once, it would be nice for something to work out in my favor, a frustrated Jack thought to himself, just once. After weeks of searching through countless Los Angeles telephone books, he’d finally made contact with an old Navy buddy from the war that could help him with his ongoing off-the-books investigation. Unfortunately, the man turned out to be absolutely useless; though he’d been an assistant codebreaker on a battleship for several years, Seaman Luther Pulver hadn’t a single clue as to what sort of code was written in Peggy’s ‘uncovered’ file, the file that chronicled her supposed war crimes and the one that had been gifted to him by Vernon Masters. And to add to Jack’s growing annoyance, Pulver had innocently suggested he get into contact with a Bletchley Park codebreaker for assistance, unaware that the Chief of the New York SSR worked not twenty feet away from one and that she hated his guts with a fiery passion.

Since their contentious confrontation outside the bank a month earlier, Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had avoided Jack like the plague and flat-out refused to utter a single word to him or even acknowledge his presence; if she for some reason had to directly address him, then it was with an icy demeanor that even Dottie Underwood couldn’t match. He’d never say it out loud, but (Y/N) intimidated him just as much as she annoyed him, and the thought of having to grovel to her to continue his investigation caused his stomach to twinge unpleasantly.

“Chief Thompson! I didn’t realize that you were still awake…” Jack glanced up from his scotch to see Edwin Jarvis standing in the doorway, dressed in red tartan pajamas with a glass of milk in his hand. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, I was just going over some case files.” Jack downed the rest of his scotch and contemplated the butler. “Working for Stark, you must have a lot of experience dealing with dames. Do you mind if I ask you for a little advice?”

Jarvis’ eyebrows rose almost comically. “I feel I must remind you, Chief Thompson, that I have been most happily and faithfully married to Ana for nearly five years, and-”

“Keep your pants on, Jarvis, that’s not the kind of advice I’m looking for.” Jack chuckled at the flustered expression on the butler’s face. “I need this one dame’s help with something at work, but she’s not exactly my biggest fan at the moment; how do I get her to help me without pissing her off even more?”

“Well, I may not know all the facts of this situation, Chief Thompson, but the first thing I suggest you do is refrain from calling this young lady a ‘dame.’” Giving Jack a reproachful look, Jarvis walked across the sitting room lowered himself into an armchair across from him. “And with that in mind, I would ask her politely for her help while simultaneously pointing out that she’s the only person on the face of the earth who can possibly help you. Now, I observed during our dealings with Mr. Stark’s stolen inventions last year and the Zero Matter business several weeks back that you fancy yourself a hardened detective. I also observed that you have a quick temper and foul disposition whenever you’re slighted or wronged.” Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Jarvis merely held up his hand as he continued. “If you really require this young lady’s assistance, then the only piece of advice I can truly give you is to be anything but your usual, ah, charming self.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You done insulting me, Jarvis, or you got a few more jabs saved up for emergencies?”

A coy smile played on Jarvis’ lips as he stood. “Working for Mr. Stark has taught me the importance of stockpiling ammunition; I believe the same could be said for witticisms. If you excuse me, I’ll be off to bed now, Ana will be missing her glass of milk.” With a tiny inclination of his head, Jarvis walked out of the room, but not before calling out over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t underestimate Miss (Y/L/N) if I were you, Chief Thompson, she’s as fierce as she is intelligent.”

Listening to the butler’s retreating footsteps, Jack couldn’t help but smirk at Jarvis’ words; when he was released from the hospital, Jack was extended an invitation from Howard Stark to stay at his Los Angeles mansion with the Jarvises and seeing no other option, he’d reluctantly accepted the offer. But the unusual couple had inexplicably grown on him; Jarvis was full of stories about his adventures as Stark’s butler and Ana cooked with the skill of a world-renowned chef. Things could’ve been a lot worse, Jack thought to himself, I could be shacking up with Sousa and his god-awful snoring.

But Jarvis had been correct about one thing: if Jack wanted to move forward with his investigation, he needed to try and win the SSR’s top codebreaker over to his side, even if that meant changing his entire attitude towards her and her profession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This better work, Thompson.” Jack muttered to himself before entering Lou’s Diner; the restaurant was moderately empty, save for a handful of occupied booths, and Jack was pleased to spot the back of Agent (Y/L/N)’s head near the end of the diner. Squaring his shoulders, Jack made his way over to her booth and spoke as he lowered himself into the seat across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent (Y/L/N), but Sousa was yakkin’ my ear off back there. So, what’s good here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Jack kept his seat and pleasant mood. “I’m here on assignment, Chief Thompson, so why don’t you go take a long walk off a short pier?”

Jack nodded in understanding, ignoring her snarky jab and the swell of irritation that followed. “Your informant’s name is Jonathan Grant Williams, right?” (Y/N) blinked in surprise. “You see, my cousin’s name is Jonathan, my middle name is Grant and Williams was the name of my commanding officer in the Navy; I guess you’ve never read my file, huh?” He grabbed a menu off the table and began flicking through it; try as he might, he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying pissing off the codebreaker. “I haven’t had a good corned beef sandwich since before the war. The ham and cheese sounds good, too…”

“So, you lured me here under false pretenses. That’s interesting.” Jack was a little relieved to see that she appeared calm, but that feeling quickly dissipated when he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol’s hammer being pulled back. “I’ll give you one minute to explain yourself, Flyboy, so you’d better start talking.”

Goddammit, Jarvis was right about her, Jack thought before quickly launching into an explanation. “You know all about the whole Zero Matter situation, right? Well, I kept that fake file Vernon Masters gave me to discredit Peggy and hid a copy of it at the SSR before I prepared to leave L.A.; lucky I did, too, ‘cause when I was shot, my would-be killer stole the original file from my suitcase and left me on the floor of that hotel room to die.”

The fingers of her free hand began to impatiently drum against the top of the table. “Thirty seconds, Flyboy…”

“That file’s somehow connected to my shooting.” He insisted. “Someone knew I had it and didn’t want me investigating it, so they tried to have me killed. I wanna find out who’s behind all this, but I need you and your codebreaking skills to decode parts of the file for me.” Jack pulled the file in question out of his briefcase and placed it on the table before sliding it over to her, along with a small black light. “Here it is, if you don’t believe me.”

With a look of skepticism, (Y/N) put on her reading glasses, opened the file and began scanning its contents, using the black light to illuminate the redacted words and sentences; he was relieved to see that the longer she read, the less angered she appeared to be.

“Hey, Specs, you weren’t really gonna shoot me just now, were you?” The codebreaker didn’t answer, too engrossed by the file she was examining, and he exhaled loudly in obvious exasperation. “Well, that’s two women now who’ve threatened to shoot me this year…”

“Oh, really? I can’t imagine why; you have such a charming personality, after all.” She mumbled sarcastically under her breath. “Relax, the gun wasn’t even loaded. Whoever wrote these codes…they must be a genius.” Her eyes met his, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ve worked with some of the most highly skilled coders and codebreakers in Europe, but I’ve never seen anything like these before.”

Jack’s frown deepened. “But you can crack ‘em, right?”

“It’ll take time, of course, but I think I could.” She sighed and furrowed her brow as her eyes continued to scan the file. “These war crimes, though…Peggy could never have done these things to another person. Torture, dismemberment, mass execution of civilians…it’s deplorable. Besides, we were working alongside the Howling Commandos during the summer of ‘44 and we were nowhere near where these incidents occurred.”

He only half-listened to her words, far too excited that his investigation was finally taking off. His elation quickly turned to confusion when she stared back up at him with a horror-struck expression. “What? What is it?”

(Y/N) pointed at the top of the file. “This file’s about an ‘M. Carter.’”

“Yeah, pretty sure I already said this is a fake file about Marge. You know, Specs, you really need to work on your listening skills-”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me, Thompson?” She glanced around the diner and lowered her voice. “In 1940, Peggy’s older brother was reported missing in action and to this day, they’ve never recovered his body. His name…his name was Michael. Michael Carter. If this file is as real as you say it is, then Peggy’s brother not only survived the war but committed war crimes against Allied soldiers and innocent civilians for over five years.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Son of a bitch.”

His secret investigation had suddenly become even more complex than he could’ve possibly imagined.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles

“Do you have any plans for this weekend, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N), who’d been busy shoving her files into her cluttered briefcase, glanced up at Peggy with an innocent smile. “Oh, nothing special. I was thinking of going to see that new Lauren Bacall picture but I haven’t decided yet. Aren’t you and Chief Sousa going down to San Diego for a couple of days?”

Peggy grinned. “Yes, Daniel’s cousin is lending us his beach house…”

Listening to Peggy talk about her and Daniel’s planned trip, (Y/N) felt a fresh wave of guilt as she watched her closest friend. It was difficult keeping secret the fact that her brother was not only alive but that there was documentation claiming that he’d committed unspeakable crimes against humanity during the war, especially since they’d just mended the rift that had formed between them after Düsseldorf. But until she and Jack were absolutely certain about their theory, they decided not to tell Peggy about the case. Not exactly an easy feat, keeping something like this from Peggy Carter, (Y/N) thought to herself.

Wishing Peggy and Daniel a pleasant weekend, (Y/N) scooped up her briefcase and made her way out of the Auerbach Theatrical Agency, being careful to not appear nervous or suspicious. She got into her car and switched on the engine but didn’t drive away, instead opting to listen to the radio and tap her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited. Thankfully, she didn’t have long to wait this time.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy.” Jack smirked as he got into the passenger seat of her car. “You fidget too much.”

“Hello to you too, Flyboy.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at his snarky comment. “I think I’m closer to cracking the first code on page three, but I need to take a glance at some of my translation journals; Peggy kept stopping by my desk to talk, so I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to today. Did you find anything on Michael yet?”

Jack nodded, his eyes trained on the road as they drive through the streets of Los Angeles. “While Sousa was out getting lunch, I finally got into contact with my buddy Jeff in D.C. and he confirmed that both the British Armed Forces and the SOE listed him as MIA. I also got those files I requested last week from London, so we can take a look at ‘em over dinner.”

Since they couldn’t fully conduct their investigation at the SSR, (Y/N) and Jack had been conducting it at the diner a block away from her apartment. From their usual booth towards the back of the restaurant, (Y/N) would work on decoding while Jack poured over any file pertaining to Michael Carter. And so they wouldn’t draw suspicion from others, they would often end up eating dinner as they worked late into the evening.

“Explain to me again why we can’t do all this back at your place?”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth but kept her annoyance in check. “Because, my building manager doesn’t allow men on the premises. And we can’t do it at yours because Jarvis’ll tell Peg about it in a heartbeat, so we’ll just have to make-do with the diner until we find a new place.”

They drove in tense silence after that, (Y/N) hyper-focused on the road and Jack immersed in a case file, until they finally reached the diner. It was only after they parked and walked to the entrance did they notice that the restaurant was closed, the sign on the door claiming a family emergency.

“Dammit,” Jack swore under his breath before turning back to (Y/N) with a demanding look. “What now?”

Exhaling through her nose, (Y/N) racked her brains for an idea; unfortunately, there was only one that stood out. “All right, we’ll go to my place but you need to follow my instructions to the letter. If we get caught, I’ll be homeless and your ass’ll be grass, got it?”

Looking annoyingly amused by the whole situation, Jack listened to her plan and hurried off to the fire escape as (Y/N) entered her apartment building with a mask of innocence. Her grip on her briefcase’s handle tightened when she caught sight of Mrs. Espinoza, the stern building manager, reading a magazine behind the front desk, but she forced herself to remain calm and walk slowly up the staircase to the second floor. She had unlocked her door and was halfway into her small apartment when she heard a familiar voice call out her name; she locked eyes with Jack, who had frozen halfway through climbing into her window. Quick as a flash, she closed the door and turned to Mrs. Espinoza with a fake smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Espinoza?”

The older woman eyes her suspiciously. “You’re home early, Miss (Y/L/N). Are you alone?”

(Y/N) nodded and used her free hand to rub her forehead. “Of course, Mrs. Espinoza; I’m not feeling too well, so they sent me home a couple of hours early. I didn’t want Mr. Auerbach seeing me look so peaky.” Since Jack had been so kind to point out her tells, she was sure to keep her hands still and adopt a pained expression as she spoke. “He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, of course, dear! You go right to bed, you hear me?” The older woman’s suspicion melted into motherly concern as she patted her arm before walking back downstairs.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, (Y/N) hurried into her apartment and was sure to lock the door behind her. She turned around just in time to see Jack emerging from her wardrobe with a smirk on his face. “I can’t believe she bought that load of crap; ‘He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best’?”

“She’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch, is she? But she’s a hell of a force to be reckoned with if she catches you.” (Y/N) checked the lock again before moving across the room to turn on the radio. “This should mask our voices, but try not to make too much noise.”

They seated themselves at her small kitchen table and got to work; Jack would occasionally read sections of each file out loud and mutter under his breath about the messy state of her apartment while (Y/N) worked through the codes on Michael’s original file and tried tuning out his irritating comments. Their stomachs began grumbling not long after they started, having grown accustomed over the past few days to eating while they worked.

“You got any food in this joint?”

(Y/N) peered at Jack from over the top of her reading glasses, torn between annoyance and frustration as she watched him rifle through her refrigerator. “Nothing that’s cooked; my neighbor down the hall sometimes comes in and cooks dinners for the week in exchange for hair styling lessons, but she’s been busy visiting her grandfather in the hospital.” She took notice of the triumphant look on Jack’s face. “What?”

“Finally, something I can do that you can’t, Specs.” He chuckled as he pulled ingredients out of her pantry and set about boiling pasta; when he caught sight of her astonished expression, his smug grin only widened. “My ma taught me when I was a kid; she always said that the women in my life would have better things to do than slave away in a kitchen for me.”

“…Your ma’s a smart lady.”

Say what you want about Jack Thompson, but you can’t deny he’s an enigma, (Y/N) thought with the smallest of smiles on her face, turning her attention back to codebreaking while he cooked.

After eating a surprisingly delicious dinner, (Y/N) and Jack continued their work in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the radio and from the rustling of papers. As she worked, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubbling inside her; she hadn’t been truly challenged by a code since the war, and the thought of cracking something so difficult reminded her of her lifelong passion for the art of codebreaking. Her excitement built when she jotted down her last translation, realizing she’d fully cracked the first code in Michael Carter’s file.

“I’ve got it!”

Jack’s head shot up and he dropped the file he’d been skimming on the table. “You cracked it?”

“The first code’s a name and address! Aaron Templeton, 68452 Ashbury Way, Los Angeles, California.” (Y/N) took off her reading glasses and hummed in contemplation. “That’s near the docks, so it’s probably a warehouse. Maybe there’s a–wait, what are you doing?”

He didn’t look her way as he gathered his files and stood to pull his jacket on. “I’m gonna go check out that address.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold it!” (Y/N) darted around him and planted herself between him and the open window. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!” Jack attempted to move around her, but she was quick to block his way again. “You seriously think it’s a good idea to go in there without backup?”

He rolled his eyes. “’Course not, but I’d rather go in without backup than have you getting in my way and screwing everything up.”

“Need I remind you that I’ve also been trained to go on missions?”

“So has Samberly, what’s your point?”

She felt her anger finally boil over. “My point is that I can help you, but you’re too much of a stubborn ass to admit that I’m anything more than a codebreaker!”

“You okay, (Y/N)?” The muffled voice of a woman called from the hallway, and both (Y/N) and Jack’s eyes simultaneously widened in horror. “I thought I heard voices!”

“I-I was just listening to a radio program, Shelly, I’m sorry if the noise disturbed you!” (Y/N) called back, hoping that the nosy woman would buy her flimsy story. “I’ll be sure to turn it down!”

There was a long pause before Shelly answered. “Okay!”

They both held their breaths until the woman’s footsteps faded away. Once she was sure Shelly was gone, (Y/N) focused her attention back on the man before her. “Like it or not, Flyboy, I’m the best and only help you’ve got. If you don’t want it, then good luck finding another codebreaker.”

Jack glared down at her and (Y/N) stared back, her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised in challenge. Finally, he let out a huff of defeat. “Fine. You can come but you follow my lead, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” (Y/N) snorted, bringing her hand up to give him a sarcastic salute. “Lieutenant Junior Grade, sir.”

“Okay then, smart-ass, let’s get going.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So as not to draw suspicion to themselves, they parked several blocks away and used the darkness to their advantage as they silently made their way down the deserted streets. (Y/N) spared her companion a discreet glance; she understood Jack Thompson’s strong desire to find those responsible for his near-death – she understood the feeling all too well after her experiences in the war – but his apparent abhorrence for her remained a mystery. If this were any other case, I’d tell him to drop dead but since it’s not, I suppose I’ll have to be the bigger person, she thought to herself as she lengthened her strides to catch up to the agitated man.

“Do you respect Peggy Carter?”

Jack, whose eyes had been trained on the rooftop of the building before them, stopped in his tracks and gave her a look of bewilderment. “Yeah? Why’re you asking?”

“Humor me for a moment, please.” Squaring her shoulders, (Y/N) continued. “Since our respect for Peggy Carter is the one thing we can agree on, I propose a truce. We work on this case as partners, equal in every aspect of the investigation, and we put aside our personal gripes with one another in order to successfully solve the case for her. Once we accomplish that, you’ll return to New York and we’ll never have to see one another again for the rest of our lives.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “Do we have a deal, Chief Thompson?”

Her speech seemed to have taken Jack by surprise; after a moment of hesitancy, he gave her hand a brief shake. “It’s a deal, Agent (Y/L/N).” He glanced back in the direction of the building. “All the windows on the north side are boarded up, looks like the fire escapes are a little worse for wear, too. I’ll take the left, you take the right; look for some kind of entrance we can use to get in.” He eyed the purse that was clutched in her hand with apprehension. “Might wanna get that gun of yours out, too.”

With her gun in hand, (Y/N) crept along the side of the building, her eyes scanning for entrance points as her ears listened for any unusual sounds. She turned the corner and was rewarded with the sight of a slightly ajar door; Jack came into view and hurried over when she gestured to the door. He raised his gun and with another nod, (Y/N) flung open the door and he darted in, she following close behind.

“All clear.” Jack pronounced minutes later after checking each floor for occupants. “Looks like this Aaron Templeton guy’s not home.”

(Y/N) tucked her gun back into her purse and began wandering through the first floor. “In that case we should be quick. You take the top two floors and I’ll take the bottom two; if you find anything, just holler for me.”

As she suspected, the building was run-down and derelict, with rotting wooden beams and broken furniture littering the floors. The first floor appeared to be untouched, so (Y/N) carefully made her way up the rickety staircase to the second floor and began looking around; it too appeared to be abandoned, and (Y/N) had just finished up when she heard Jack out to her from the floor above.

“I think I found something you might recognize.” Jack gestured to an empty wooden crate resting on the desk near the boarded-up window.

She staggered over small piles of debris to stand beside him, a little surprised at the look of confusion on his face as he stared down at the crate. Following Jack’s lead, (Y/N) looked down and was immediately drawn to the lid of the crate; printed on the wood was a familiar image of a horse surrounded by vines. “The bank robbery; this was the symbol that was etched onto that device we took custody of a few weeks back. Chief Sousa closed the case the other day, said there was a lack of evidence and credible witnesses to justify keeping it open.” She glanced back up at Jack. “You don’t think…?”

“Yeah, I do.” He gestured to a scrap of paper on the desk. “The time and date of the robbery, along with the bank’s street address. It looks like we might’ve just found the home of one of our bank robbers.”

“In that case, we need to take another look at that case and we need someone to re-examine the device.” (Y/N)’s finger traced the etching on the wood and sighed to herself before continuing. “Unfortunately, I have just the man in mind…”

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Los Angeles, California

Although his off-the-books case had become more convoluted than he’d originally expected, Jack was in unusually good spirits; ever since recruiting (Y/N), he felt like he’d actually made real progress in the investigation of his attempted assassination. At this rate, you’ll be back in the Big Apple in no time, Jack thought to himself with a smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued walking down the sidewalk. Enjoying the brisk mid-morning weather and daydreaming about New York, Jack almost didn’t see the familiar emerald-green ‘46 Chevrolet Fleetmaster Convertible pulling up beside him until its horn blared twice.

“Need a ride, Flyboy?”

Rolling his eyes at (Y/N)’s comment and teasing grin, Jack quickly got into the car and grumbled, “You know, that nickname’s not very accurate; I was in the Navy during the war, not the Air Force.”

“And my reading glasses are bifocals, not specs, so what’s your point?” Three weeks ago, the codebreaker would’ve bristled at the mention of his nickname for her, but it was a sign of their mutual agreement to behave themselves for the sake of the case that she merely quirked her eyebrow at him. Redirecting her eyes back on the road, (Y/N) gestured vaguely to the cardboard box that was seated beside her. “I was able to get the device out of evidence without having to sign for it, but I had to distract Samberly with the promise of a cheeseburger from Ralph’s.”

“We’ll pick one up on the way back to the office.” Jack reached up and took his fedora off, absentmindedly twirling it in his hands as he asked, “So, what did you tell ‘em to get a longer lunch break?”

For some reason, his question made her chuckle. “You’re sure you want to know?” He raised an expectant eyebrow. “I told Chief Sousa I was having ladies’ troubles and it worked like a charm; they don’t expect me back until one o’clock.”

“…Well, that’ll do it, I guess.” Shaking his head, Jack reached forward and began tuning the radio until it landed on an upbeat tune. “All I told Sousa was that I was meeting an old college pal of mine for lunch.” He snorted to himself. “I wish. After last year’s fiasco in New York and the whole Zero Matter thing out here, I’ve had it up to here with Howard Stark; the last thing I wanna do is ask for the guy’s help but we really don’t really have another option.” When he glanced over at his companion, he instantly took notice of the tension in her shoulders and the tightening of her hands on the steering wheel. Thinking that her shift in body language was due to his harsh critique of the inventor, he decided it would be wise to try and backpedal for the sake of the case. “That’s, uh, not to say that he’s not a smart guy or anything, it’s just…well, you know. You guys work together during the war?”

(Y/N) nodded curtly. “Yes, we did.” Just as Jack began to ask another question, she cut him off with a question of her own. “What’s your favorite color?”

“…What?”

“You heard me. If I’m going to continue working on this case then I should probably get to know the man I’ve been sneaking into my apartment every night this week, wouldn’t you say?” (Y/N)’s tone was light, but her body language all but ordered Jack to drop the topic of Howard Stark. Is there anyone in the world Stark hasn’t managed to piss off yet, he silently wondered as the car came to a stop at a red light; turning towards him, the corners of (Y/N)’s mouth curled into a small smile. “C’mon, Flyboy, what is it? Green? Orange? I’ll bet it’s red, since you wear red ties a lot.”

Still a little befuddled by her odd behavior, it took Jack several moments to come up with a reply. “Um, well, I guess it would be blue. Not bright blue, but the color of the ocean. Um…you?”

“Green, definitely green.” (Y/N) shrugged. “Green’s always reminded me of the field behind my grandmother’s house; I’d spend hours out there playing, so I suppose that’s why I like it so much.”

“Where’d you grow up?”

And with that, Jack learned more about his reluctant partner during their thirty-minute-long car ride than in the entire three weeks they’d worked together; most of what they discussed was typical small talk – favorite foods, various hobbies and the like – but her answers painted a very different picture of her life than he’d ever imagined. Whenever he pictured her life growing up, for example (not that he’d thought of the codebreaker very much, of course), he always imagined a quiet, be-speckled little girl with her nose stuck in a massive book, not a mischievous troublemaker who enjoyed climbing trees and playing baseball. Never judge a book by its cover, I guess, Jack thought with an inward snort of amusement as he listened to her story.

“So anyway, there I was at home base, Tommy had just passed third and was gunning it home and the pitcher had just thrown the ball to me. Since Tommy was way bigger than me, I was scared he’d run me over before I could catch the thing so I did what any sane person would’ve done: I slid into the splits to catch the ball and got him out as he tripped over my leg.”

Jack found himself chuckling along with her. “Sounds like a good save to me, but I bet they had something else to say about it.”

“Of course they did, they banned me from playing with them ever again! It only lasted about a week, though; they had a game against another neighborhood team that they didn’t want to lose, so they bought me chocolate ice cream and let me back on the team.” (Y/N) smiled fondly at the memory. “I would’ve told them ‘no’ just to spite them, but they really got me with that ice cream; chocolate’s my absolute weakness no matter what form it’s in.”

“Careful, you better not let information like that get out in the open, Specs, there’s no telling how many neighborhood ball teams’ll come looking for you now.” He grinned and watched with a sense of pride as (Y/N) laughed at his joke. The sound of her laughter combined with the bright smile on her face stirred something in his chest, and Jack quickly realized, to his shock and utter confusion, that he’d enjoyed making her laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking through the backlot of Howard Stark’s film studio, it was all Jack could do not to outright gawk at the colorful sets and technical equipment being moved or manned; unbeknownst to many, Jack was fond of films and had always been interested in how they were created. During their final confrontation with Whitney Frost in the backlot, he’d been unable to fully appreciate his surroundings but since he didn’t have to worry about Zero Matter or flying cars this time, he fully took advantage of the moment. That is, until he caught sight of the noticeable dampening of (Y/N)’s mood; the codebreaker walked beside him with tense shoulders and a troubled frown on her face, a sharp contrast to all the smiles and laughter she’d been in the car earlier. She must really hate Howard Stark, he thought to himself as he adjusted the tilt of his fedora and contemplated how to phrase his next question.

“So, um, what exactly did-?”

“Well, this is a surprise!” They turned to see the man in question striding towards them, his arms outstretched in welcome. “Chief Thompson, it’s good to see you! How’s everything at my mansion? Is Jarvis treatin’ you right? And who’s your…?” Howard trailed off as he took a closer look at (Y/N), recognition dawning on his face along with a nervous grin. “Oh. Long time no see, (Y/N). How’ve you been? I heard talk that you’d re-joined the SSR a while back.”

The codebreaker’s face was a mask as she stiffly replied, “We’re here because we need your help with a case we’re working on.”

The inventor shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure, anything for my old pals at the SSR.”

“This isn’t an SSR case.” Jack’s grip on the cardboard box containing the device tightened as he glanced around the crowded backlot. “You mind if we take this conversation somewhere more private?”

Howard frowned in confusion but nodded, leading them through the backlot and into a building, where they entered what appeared to be his office. He locked the door behind them and flopped down in his desk chair with an expectant look. “Well, what’s so important that you dragged me away from filming my new picture? I was just about to shoot a scene with Betty Hutton, you know.”

“First, you need to promise you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, but especially Peggy Carter.”

(Y/N)’s words caused Howard to sigh and run a hand through his short hair. “Peg and I have a history when it comes to hiding things from one another. After what happened in New York with Rogers’ blood, I don’t know if-”

Jack interrupted him. “None of us wanna lie to Carter, Stark, but believe me when I say that it’s important she doesn’t find out just yet.” Howard considered his words before giving them a nod. Leaning against his desk, Jack proceeded to fill him in on the details of the case, from his shooting all the way to the device that was tied to the symbol they’d discovered in the abandoned warehouse. (Y/N) leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and remained relatively quiet, only interjecting to explain her decoding process; the stony expression on her face remained unchanged as she focused on everything in the room except Howard.

“You said this device melted the door of a bank vault?” Howard asked, examining the metallic device in his hands with great interest, seemingly forgetting about his film and waiting actress. Jack nodded, and the inventor smirked. “Yep, this is definitely one of my Bad Babies.”

“What?!” Jack shouted; (Y/N) jumped and immediately dropped her aloof demeanor in surprise, but Howard remained unperturbed. “You’re telling me that one of your stolen inventions was never recovered and you failed to inform the SSR about it?!”

Howard merely shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles on the edge of the desk with an easy-going smile. “Relax a little, will you? I never told the SSR about this device for a variety of very good reasons, which include but are not limited to: being wrongfully accused of treason, an overall distrust of federal agencies at the time and because it never truly existed back then.” Jack frowned in confusion. “As you know, I left the country shortly after the SSR began its manhunt for me and while I was gone, I traveled to Europe to track down the inventions that had already been sold off; they included a blueprint for a device very similar to this. I got it back and destroyed it, of course, but I’d wager that someone made a copy of it before I did.”

“You said that the blueprint was similar to that invention, but not completely accurate; what changes were made?” (Y/N) asked, curiosity overtaking her earlier frostiness.

“Well for one thing, it’s been super-powered; my original invention was intended to melt snow off of driveways but someone’s rewired this to do a lot more than make puddles. There’s also a crest or somethin’ etched onto the metal, and everyone knows I don’t mark my inventions with symbols.” He chuckled to himself. “And if it were up to me, they wouldn’t even have my company’s name on them; the quality alone should tell people who they’re buying from.” Jack had to feign a head scratch in order to hide his exasperated eye-roll. “You’re dealing with one hell of a smarty-pants, you two. You sure Michael’s the one who built this?”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw but nodded. “He’s invented his own form of coding without any formal training in the field, so I’d say it’s a safe bet it’s him or someone working alongside him.”

“In that case, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open in case any more Stark Industries rip-offs show up on the radar.”

Taking the device back from Howard, Jack carefully tucked it back into the box and placed his fedora back on his head. “Thanks, but remember, no one can know what we’re investigating, got it?”

“Sure, sure.” At this point, all of Howard’s attention was focused on (Y/N), who had resumed staring at the floor. “It’s been good seein’ you, (Y/N). I didn’t think I ever would after Düsseldorf, you know.”

The codebreaker’s head snapped up and although her mouth was set in anger, there was pain in her (Y/E/C) eyes. “Don’t. You have no right to talk about Düsseldorf, not after what you did.”

Howard gritted his teeth as he took a deep breath. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried apologizing for what happened, (Y/N)…”

“And have you ever considered the possibility that maybe I don’t want your half-baked apologies?!” (Y/N) had pushed herself off of the wall and was standing before the inventor, her eyes blazing. “They’re empty words, Howard! They mean absolutely nothing to me!”

“Well, that’s all I can give you!” Howard shouted back. “I can’t give you back what you lost, I can’t give you back Freddie-!”

(Y/N) slapped him hard across the face, and he immediately brought a hand up to the reddened cheek. With tears beginning to form in her eyes, she took a step back from him. “Never mention his name again.” Giving him a final glare, (Y/N) turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her so hard that its frosted pane of glass cracked.

Jack and Howard stood in silence as they stared at the door, until Howard finally cleared his throat. “I’ll see you around, Chief Thompson, I’ve gotta go check on the, um, costumes and things…”

Blurting out an awkward goodbye, Jack hurried out of the office and through the backlot to the parking lot. Just as he suspected, (Y/N) was already in the car and from the looks of it, she’d been crying. Jack had never been very good at comforting crying women, the incident involving Peggy’s old roommate in New York being a prime example of his ineptness in that field, but he figured that the best thing he could do in this particular situation was keep his mouth shut and not ask any of the questions he was dying to have answered. Squaring his shoulders and letting out a deep sigh, he got into the car and they drove away in heavy silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I forgot to get Samberly his cheeseburger.”

Jack looked over at (Y/N) and frowned; she’d been completely silent on the drive back to the SSR, so the hoarseness of her voice was a shock to hear. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were bloodshot and her mouth was set in a hard line as she stared unseeingly out of the windshield. The confident codebreaker was a shell of her former self, and the sight caused something to stir in Jack’s chest. Only later did he realize that the unusual feeling he’d experienced towards her was sympathy.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the day off? Ladies troubles, right?” (Y/N) gave him a look of confusion but nodded all the same. “It’ll look a little suspicious to the others, especially Carter, if you’re suddenly feeling better with no explanation. And don’t worry ‘bout Samberly, I’ll go get him his burger after I drop the device off at the lab.” Jack had been expecting her to argue, but after considering his words for a moment she nodded again. “So, um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Jack grabbed the box containing the device and clambered out of her car but before he could close the door, (Y/N) called out, “Chief Thompson?” He turned around to face her and she studied him for several moments before giving him the smallest of smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Flyboy.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles

Rubbing at her temples in a weak attempt to rid herself of a splitting headache, (Y/N) once again cursed Michael Carter and his codes. They were easily the most challenging codes she’d ever attempted to crack, but a small part of her couldn’t help but admire his skill. A very small part, she thought through gritted teeth as her head throbbed in pain.

Hearing footsteps approaching her desk, (Y/N) reluctantly opened her eyes to see Jack saunter past and drop a folded note into her crowded inbox without a single glance at her. She watched as he entered Daniel’s office before grabbing the note and unfolding it; her eyes skimmed over the message, which she had to read twice to confirm she wasn’t seeing things:

Take a break from M’s codes, Specs, you look like your brain’s gonna explode.

Glancing up from the note, her eyes immediately found Jack looking at her through the glass window of the office, his eyebrows raised expectantly. She shook her head and struggled to suppress a smile as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. As well-meaning as his note had been, both she and Jack knew that until she decoded another of Michael’s codes, their investigation was virtually on hold. Jack had reached out to some more of his friends in D.C. in order to learn more about Michael’s military background, but the continuation of their investigation rested squarely on (Y/N)’s overly-stressed shoulders. If I keep this up I’m gonna get grey hair before I’m thirty, (Y/N) groaned inwardly as she returned her gaze to the code before her. Before she could resume her work, Peggy entered the bullpen and as she made her way towards her desk, (Y/N) surreptitiously covered the code with her translation journals.

“Can I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) smiled warmly, concealing any signs of fatigue from her friend. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“The New York branch is a little overwhelmed with decoding old wartime messages for documentation and filing, so Daniel’s offered them our services.” Peggy began thumbing through one of the files she’d set down on the desk. “They’re fairly straightforward codes, so they won’t do anything to aggravate that headache of yours; in fact, they may even serve to relax you.” (Y/N)’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and Peggy’s grin widened at her reaction. “Oh, please, (Y/N), we worked together for years; you don’t think I’ve forgotten how you act when your headaches come on, do you?”

“You’re right, Peg, I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point in our relationship.” Shrugging good-naturedly, (Y/N) helped her friend clear a space on the desk and set up their codebreaking materials. Once Peggy had fetched them each a strong cup of tea, they began their work. Just as the younger woman had predicted, (Y/N) quickly found herself relaxing as she decoded message after message, only pausing in order to sip her lemon and honey tea.

They had been working in comfortable silence for a while when Peggy suddenly spoke. “Good Lord, I haven’t seen this style of code in years! You’re the one who introduced them to me at Bletchley, remember?”

“Hmm?” Dragging her eyes away from her half-finished code, (Y/N)’s lips curved into a smile as she studied the page in Peggy’s hand. “Ah, poem codes! As I recall, you thought it was an archaic code and a waste of time to learn. You still feel the same way about it?”

“Oh, sod off.” Peggy’s withering look was broken by a reluctant grin. “I’ll admit, poem codes are useful but they’re still a pain in the ass to decode and no one outside of Literature students could possibly know enough poems to successfully utilize them.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue but froze as inspiration suddenly struck. Thinking fast, she gathered her translation journals and Michael’s code, whipped off her reading glasses and stood. “I forgot, I’ve got to get these write-ups down to Rose before lunch; I’ll be back in a jiffy, Peg!” With a brief glance in the direction of Daniel’s office, (Y/N) strode out of the bullpen and down the halls, quickly finding herself ducking into a cramped supply closet. She was practically bouncing in excitement by the time Jack squeezed his way into the space and flicked on the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve done it!”

“What, finally had a mental breakdown? I know we need those codes cracked but you’re gonna run yourself into the ground at the rate you’re going, and-”

Unable to contain herself, (Y/N) reached up and covered his mouth with her hand; his eyes widened in surprise and before he could scowl, (Y/N) removed her hand and exclaimed, “I figured out how Michael’s creating his codes! He’s using his background in Literature to develop his own coding style! Remember, you read in that file the other week that he attended Cambridge before enlisting in the British Armed Forces, majoring in Philosophy and minoring in Literature; he definitely would’ve learned enough there to be able to create new codes.”

Jack’s brow rose and she got the sense that he was impressed by her epiphany. “And this new style, you can figure it out?”

“It’ll still be a challenge but since I think I have an insight into his process now, it shouldn’t take nearly as long as it has been.” With a triumphant grin, (Y/N) gestured to the code in her hand. “How about we decode this one over a turkey and Swiss at the diner tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can also think of a better meeting place while we’re at it?” Jack’s face suddenly broke out into an amused grin. “I mean, the others might get the wrong idea if they catch us in here. You and me alone in a tiny supply closet…? Very scandalous.”

(Y/N) arched an unimpressed brow. “Is that so?”

“Oh, definitely. It’ll spread all over the office that the new codebreaker’s seduced the innocent Chief and then my reputation’ll be ruined.” His grin widened and (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she worked on extricating herself from the closet. “Hey, defending my virtue’s very important to me, Specs, don’t knock it!”

“Well, in that case…” Standing on her tiptoes and without a second thought, (Y/N) pressed a quick kiss on his neck and pulled away to admire the red lipstick staining his skin and shirt collar; with a smirk of her own, she gazed up at Jack’s stunned face. “Have fun defending that one, Flyboy.”

Before he could respond, she ducked back out of the closet and made her way back to the bullpen, fanning herself with her free hand as she went; for some odd reason, her face had suddenly become uncomfortably warm…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks again for the ride, Specs, but I still say I could’ve made it back to Stark’s place okay on my own.”

(Y/N) took her eyes off the empty backroad to shoot the man beside her an amused look. “You sprained your ankle jumping off my fire escape; you and I both know that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch if you put more pressure on it than necessary, which would’ve happened if you stood waiting for a taxi. Besides, I feel a little guilty for laughing as hard as I did when you had to hide from Mrs. Espinoza in the juniper bush.”

Jack’s lips curled into a reluctant grin and he pointed a warning finger at her. “You tell anyone ‘bout that and you’re dead, you got it?” His grin widened. “You know, the last time I had to hide in a bush like that was when I was in high school; I was leaving my gal’s house when her old man came home early and to this day, I can’t look at a rose without feeling those damn thorns digging into my back.”

“Well, I’m sure your gal appreciated the gesture all the same, although I would’ve hid my fella in the garden shed if I were her.” She smirked but after feeling his eyes trained on her, she spared another glance at him. “What?”

“Did you date a lot in high school?” He raised his hands in defense when her brow rose in surprise. “Hey, I’m just getting to know my partner a little better, you don’t have to answer or anything…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “And if I choose not to answer I’m sure you’ll just drop the subject forever, huh?” Out of the corner of her eye, Jack shrugged again and she sighed in exasperation. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Flyboy, but no, I didn’t date in high school. Even if my father hadn’t forbidden me from dating and I wasn’t overwhelmed with schoolwork, I doubt any of the fellas at my school were interested in me that way and to be frank, I wasn’t very interested in them, either.”

“Well, any guy would-wait, why’s that sign look so familiar?”

Pulling to the side of the road, (Y/N) squinted to make out the sign in the faint glow of her headlights. “‘Fieldman Family Orangery, Next Left.’ I think it’s just a-” Her eyes suddenly widened in recognition. “Wait. Michael’s personnel file had an Adam Fieldman listed as a roommate from Cambridge. You don’t really think…?”

Jack had already retrieved her briefcase from the back seat and withdrawn the message she’d decoded over dinner. “You tell me.” Written in her barely-legible handwriting was ‘FFO-Lab/Dist.’ “C’mon, at best we get more intel on whatever the hell Michael and his people are doing and at worst, we break into some poor geezer’s orangery by mistake.”

“Maybe we should wait for another day…?”

“It’s a Friday night, so there’s bound to be nobody hanging around and the moon’s out, which’ll provide us with some natural light. All perfect conditions for a little snooping around.”

Ignoring the feeling of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, (Y/N) switched off the headlights and slowly drove closer to the orangery; endless rows of orange trees ringed a sizable factory building and off to the side was a lot filled with a dozen large delivery trucks. She parked the car behind the trucks and reached into her purse for her gun and pen. “You stay here, I’ll take a quick look around and-”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about?” It was Jack’s turn to look apprehensive. “You’re not going in there alone.”

Once again sighing in exasperation, (Y/N) gestured to Jack’s ankle. “It’s a little difficult to snoop around when you can’t even walk, Flyboy, wouldn’t you say? I’m a fully trained field agent so I’ll be more than fine by myself in there. Okay?”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Jack’s hardened blue eyes bored into hers and she stared right back, raising a single challenging brow. After several moments, he turned away and heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine, I won’t go in.” When she made no move to leave the car, he threw up his hands in exasperation and gave her a look. “I promise, I’ll be a good boy and stay in the car! Happy?”

“I suppose so.” Without waiting for a reply, (Y/N) opened the car door and quietly stepped out.

Instead of arguing with her some more, Jack leaned forward and caught her arm before she could move, his hand wrapping firmly around her bare wrist; it might’ve been her imagination, but she could’ve sworn that her skin flushed at the contact. “And what’re you gonna do with a pen, Specs, write on ‘em?”

“You’d be surprised.” She gave him a secretive smile and withdrew her arm from his grasp before closing the car door and sneaking her way towards the closed factory, tucking the seemingly innocent pen into her pocket as she went.

Now this takes me back, (Y/N) thought to herself a handful of minutes later when she went about picking the lock of one of the side doors; she’d learned the skill shortly after joining up with the Howling Commandos and would never forget how many of her hairpins had been destroyed during her practice sessions with the soldiers. I’m pretty sure Barnes promised he’d buy me some more once the war was over, she recalled with a twinge of sadness as she remembered the easy-going Sergeant, but the feeling was quickly replaced with elation when the door unlocked with a faint click.

Nudging the door open with the toe of her shoe, (Y/N) raised her gun and entered what appeared to be a large packaging room; stacks of wooden crates formed long rows and in the faint light of the moon streaming through the skylights, she could barely make out an open doorway. Just as she was about to continue into the room, the sudden sound of footsteps grew increasingly louder and caused her to spring into action; moving as quietly as she could, (Y/N) hurried down the left-hand row and after spotting a gap in between two crates, hurriedly ducked into it and took a deep breath. The heavy footsteps grew louder before stopping altogether.

“There’s nothin’ here, wise-ass! I told you you was hearin’ things!”

“Yeah, yeah, just get your ass back here and deal, Jerry, I ain’t got all night to wait for you!” Another masculine voice called from the opposite end of the room. “And bring some more smokes while you’re at it!”

“Hey, you better not be lookin’ at my cards…!” Jerry’s voice faded as he hurried back to the opposite end of the room.

(Y/N) took a moment to let out the breath she’d been holding before poking her head out of her hiding spot to check if the coast was truly clear. Satisfied, she emerged and continued moving silently through the room and towards the open doorway; they must be security guards for the company, she reasoned as she flattened herself against the outstretch of wall behind the propped-open door, it doesn’t necessarily mean this place is connected to our case.

The moment the thought of sneaking back to her car to lay into Jack for his paranoia crossed her mind, (Y/N)’s attention was drawn to the muffled sound of voices through the open doorway. Ducking out of her hiding place, she crept into the next room and instantly spotted the light shining through the cracked-open door to her left; being mindful of her footsteps, she slowly moved closer to the doorway and flattened herself against the wall before finally allowing herself to listen to the voices.

“Listen, I’m okay with sending out another shipment in the next few weeks but we need to be more careful, the SSR-”

“-Hasn’t got a single clue about what it is or who invented it. My source inside the agency told me that their Chief has officially closed the case and that their only piece of evidence is locked away in their archives.”

The first man sighed in frustration. “All right, all right, but remind your hired goons not to leave another one behind at the next hit or that’ll have every agency in town on our tail. And tell the boss-”

“Tell him what? That you’re unsatisfied with your deal? I’m sure he’d love to-”

“N-no! No, no, I only meant…he needs to remember Chief Thompson…”

With a chuckle, the second man replied, “Concerned, are we? How touching. Rest assured, the boss hasn’t forgotten about that particular problem. Jack Thompson will soon be taken care of the same way he’s already taken care of that careless Templeton…”

Although she felt the handle of the gun slip out of her grasp, (Y/N) didn’t fully register it until the sound of the gun hitting the stone floor echoed throughout the room. Her heart jumped into her throat as she acted on pure instinct; she darted behind a stack of crates stamped with a vaguely-familiar symbol and fumbled with her jacket pocket, from which she finally withdrew her compact mirror. Holding it in front of her and adjusting its angle, (Y/N) watched as the door swung open and the two men hurried out. Because of the glare on her mirror, she was unable to make out any of their features and before she could get a closer look, the men caught sight of her gun on the floor and immediately ran back into the room; a moment later, a shrill alarm began blaring throughout the orangery.

“Shit.” She snapped her mirror closed and withdrew her pen from her pocket while she listened to the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching. Six men armed with pistols that just branched out into two groups, she deduced, most likely more on the way so there’s only one way to play this. After taking a quick peek around the crates and deep bolstering breath, she clicked down on the top of the pen and tossed it in the direction of the three armed men, flattening herself against the crates as the pen released a small-scale explosion that knocked out all three men.

As expected, the other three men were drawn to the commotion and (Y/N) used their reaction to her advantage; once they ran past her hiding spot, she leapt out and threw her compact mirror at the back of one of the men’s head, the force of it knocking him clear to the floor. Charging the two remaining men, she punched one roundly in the face and kneed him in the groin, using his unbalance to roughly shove him head-first into a stack of crates. The second man fired his gun at her and she ducked down just in time to avoid the bullet; she thrust a foot out and kicked his shin with the sharp heel of her shoe, jumping to her feet as yelled in pain and clutched his leg. She gave him a quick sidekick to the head and watched as he slumped to the ground, unconscious. The first man she’d thrown her compact at staggered to his feet, only to fall back down when (Y/N) grabbed an empty crate and slammed it upside his head.

Wasting no time, she dropped the crate, sprinted out of the room and back into the packaging room, the thought of escape being the only thing on her mind. Just as her eyes fell on the door she’d entered the orangery through, something large and solid slammed into her and sent her flying into the stack of crates to her left. She landed harshly onto the floor amid the broken wood and groaned in pain as she struggled to her feet, but a hard hit to her face sent her sprawling back down and her eyes instinctively squeezed shut.

“You’re one tough cookie, ya know?” The man standing over her let out an impressed whistle, and she recognized it as the voice of Jerry, one of the poker-playing guards from earlier. She also recognized the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded and was silently thankful she’d kept her eyes closed. “Shame it’s gotta end this way.”

“Yeah, you took the words right outta my mouth.” (Y/N)’s eyes flew open just in time to watch as Jack Thompson knocked the man out with a single punch; the man fell to the ground in a heap and Jack immediately limped over to help her stand. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go, I already took care of the other guards but more’ll be coming…” They ran as quickly as their injuries would allow and since they were in such a hurry, (Y/N) didn’t complain when Jack dove into the driver’s seat and gunned it down the road. “That…that was the definition of a SNAFU.…”

(Y/N) struggled to control her erratic breathing and her shock was beginning to wear off, only to be replaced by white-hot anger. “I thought I told you to stay in the car!”

“Seriously? I just saved your ass from getting shot and you wanna argue about that now?”

“You didn’t trust that I could gather intel on my own, did you? That’s why you went in after promising you wouldn’t!”

“No, I went in after you ‘cause I heard a goddamn bomb go off and thought you were in trouble! And of course I trust you to get intel on your own, you’re an agent for crying out loud!”

She let out a heartless laugh at that. “This coming from the man who recently called me a weak, emotional liability!” Jack’s head turned sharply to face her and his dumbfounded expression only served to spur on her anger. “Face it, Jack Thompson, you don’t give a shit about our partnership, you just wanted to collect the intel by yourself for your investigation, and I-!” As she shifted in her seat, a white-hot pain erupted in her left leg and she couldn’t suppress the loud gasp of pain as her eyes squeezed shut. “Argh!”

“What’s wro-? Oh shit…” Jack’s abrupt shift in tone caused her to blink her eyes open and follow his horrified gaze to the expanding bloodstain on her thigh. “How deep’s that wound?” She didn’t answer, as the sight of her own blood was already causing her head to loll and her vision to darken. “Specs? (Y/N)! Hey hey hey, (Y/N), stay awake, you hear me? C’mon, keep your eyes open!” Her eyes were drifting closed, and the last thing she clearly remembered before succumbing to the darkness was the newfound pressure on her leg and the sound of her name being called over and over.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

Stark Mansion, Los Angeles

The skies surrounding Howard Stark’s mansion were beginning to lighten when Jack finally returned from his walk, his bloodstained hands shoved deep into his pockets and his hair beyond rumpled from angrily running his fingers through it. He’d spent the better part of the night berating himself, both for knowingly sending (Y/N) into the orangery without backup and for the hurtful words he’d said to her all those weeks ago, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t also worried out of his mind for the injured and unconscious codebreaker inside the mansion.

He’d driven them directly to Stark’s mansion at breakneck speed, where the Jarvises had helped him carry (Y/N)’s limp form into one of the spare bedrooms and he watched as the butler stitched the large cut on her thigh closed; Ana had attempted to coax Jack into sitting so she could wrap his sprained ankle but he refused, opting to stand beside the bed and watch her husband work. His jaw would tightly clench each time the codebreaker flinched or whimpered in her sleep and he didn’t relax until Jarvis finished securing the bandage around her leg. With her wound properly treated, (Y/N)’s forehead smoothed out and she seemed to fall into a more peaceful slumber.

“Miss (Y/L/N) will be fine after a good night’s sleep.” Jarvis stood and wiped his bloody hands on a towel, an unusually firm look on his face as he removed his reading glasses. “Now, Chief Thompson, I believe an explanation is in order.”

Against his better judgement, Jack told the Jarvises everything about their secret case, from the file and their chilling discovery pertaining to Michael Carter to their spontaneous investigation into the orangery; to their credit, they promised not to breathe a word of it to Peggy or the SSR, but Jack could see that his story had disturbed them. It was then he decided to go for a walk around the vast estate to clear his head and get away from their prying eyes.

“And how’d that work out for you, you jackass?” He muttered under his breath as he walked. Rounding the corner of Stark’s pool house, Jack’s eyes immediately fell on the familiar emerald-green car parked in the driveway and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. He should’ve waited for another night to infiltrate the orangery, but he was so wrapped-up in the case that he’d ignored (Y/N)’s initial reservations. But what bothered him more was that she believed he didn’t care at all about her well-being or their partnership. Looking back on their past interactions, though, it was painfully easy to see why she’d believe that.

“I see you’ve returned from your walk, Chief Thompson!” Ana looked up from her book with a smile as Jack limped into the kitchen, the pain in his ankle having become more prominent than ever. “Are you feeling better?”

Jack ignored her question. “Is Agent (Y/L/N) awake yet?”

“No, not yet; Edwin is sitting with her now.” Ana stood and gestured to the vacant chair across from her. “Sit, and I’ll wrap your ankle for you.”

Jack opened his mouth to refuse but the stern glint in her eye told him not to argue with the petite woman. He sat, but when she gathered the supplies and prepared to kneel, he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, I’ll do it myself.” Ana raised a skeptical eyebrow but allowed him to take the supplies from her, sitting across from him at the table as he went about wrapping his ankle. “I learned how to do it in the Navy; most of the guys sprained their ankles running to their battle stations, so the medics taught us how to treat ‘em ourselves.”

“Very wise of them. Working for Mr. Stark one must be prepared for anything, so I took several nursing classes; just last year, I treated the ankle Mr. Stark sprained sneaking out of Barbara Stanwyck’s home and the wrist Edwin sprained attempting to recapture Bernard Stark.” Jack frowned in confusion. “He’s a pink flamingo.”

“Ah.”

Ana’s brow furrowed as her eyes focused on his neck. “You’re bleeding! Do you need a bandage for that?”

Jack’s hand shot up to where she was looking but all he felt was smooth skin; it was when he brought his hand back down and examined his stained fingers that he realized it was red lipstick on his neck, not blood. The memory of (Y/N) standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on his neck before flashing him a teasing grin filled his mind and the guilt he was feeling only intensified. “No, it’s fine, it’s just…it’s fine. Thank you.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Ana reading her book as Jack finished wrapping his ankle as quickly as he could. Once he finished, he put his sock and shoe back on and went to the sink to finally scrub the dried blood off of his hands. As he watched the pink-tinted water wash down the drain, he found himself blurting out, “Have you ever, um…you ever say something stupid to someone before? Like, really stupid?”

“Me? Oh, of course!” He turned, wiping his hands on a dishtowel; Ana had set down her book and was tracing the lettering with her fingers. “We are all flawed creatures, so it is only natural that we say things to others without fully thinking of the ramifications of our words.”

Nodding, Jack pressed his lips together and hesitated a moment before continuing. “And how have you…well, taken those words back?”

Ana smiled patiently up at him. “Once words are spoken, Chief Thompson, there’s no taking them back. But a heartfelt apology can always help to lessen the pain that they have caused.”

Based on the look she was giving him, Jack had a sneaking suspicion Ana knew exactly what he was talking about. Thankfully, though, whatever she was about to say was interrupted by Jarvis entering the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. “Miss (Y/L/N) is awake and appears to be in good health. She’s asked to speak with you, actually.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Jack clapped the butler on the shoulder before hurrying his way down the hallway to the guest room, pausing only a moment to run a nervous hand through his hair before knocking on the door.

“Come in.” He opened the door and was met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting upright in bed, relaxing against a mound of pillows and pressing an ice pack against her slightly-swollen cheek; the corner of her mouth twitched when their gazes met, but her (Y/E/C) eyes were caged and watchful as he moved to sit in the chair at her bedside. “Jarvis just gave me a clean bill of health and said my stitches look okay. He was worried and thought that I fainted because I lost too much blood so I had to explain to him that…well, I’m not exactly the biggest fan of gore. Overall, though, he’s a model caregiver; I’ve always said that if he didn’t become a butler, he would’ve been a great doctor.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, he and Ana could open their own practice together.” (Y/N) stared down at her lap and Jack nervously bit his lip; before he could lose his nerve, he leaned forward in his chair and spoke. “(Y/N), I’m sorry.” Her head shot up and the look of surprise in her eyes urged him to continue. “I should’ve listened to you about looking into the orangery another day, that way we could’ve been better prepared and you wouldn’t have gotten injured, but what I’m really sorry for is the way I’ve spoken and acted towards you over the past few weeks. You didn’t do anything to deserve all that and…and I should’ve been a better partner to you. I get it if you don’t wanna work this case anymore, and-”

(Y/N)’s free hand shot out and grabbed one of his, the action succeeding in shutting him up; he met her gaze once again and was stunned to see that she too seemed nervous. “I haven’t exactly been fair to you either. What I said in the car…I didn’t mean it. If you didn’t care about our partnership, then you wouldn’t have acted the way you did when you got me here last night.” Jack frowned in confusion and (Y/N) gave him a small smile. “Jarvis told me that you didn’t leave my bedside when he stitched me up, not even once, and he said that you flat-out refused to have your ankle treated until after I was taken care of.”

“Jarvis talks too much.”

“Well, I’m glad he told me, and…” She looked down at their clasped hands before looking back up at him, a sincere gleam in her eyes. “…and I’m sorry too, Jack, for everything.”

They shared a smile, a genuine smile, and after a moment they both seemed to realize that they were still holding hands; (Y/N) pulled hers back to rest on her bedcovers and Jack’s quickly shot up to smooth back his hair, already feeling his face heat up in embarrassment as the image of her smiling face filled his mind. To clear the tension of the room, he chuckled and casually remarked, “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my actual name and not ‘Flyboy’.”

“I could say the same thing but I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you, Flyboy.” (Y/N) smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Now, how about we go through the intel I gathered over some breakfast?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, Specs, let me see if I got it all straight,” Jack took a large bite of his blueberry muffin and a swig of black coffee before continuing. “The orangery’s being used to manufacture and distribute those vault-melting devices, they have a shipment that’s supposed to go out in the next few weeks, they bumped off Templeton for leaving a device behind at the crime scene and Michael’s goons are planning on ‘taking care of me’ next? Not much to worry ‘bout there since they seem to make pretty shit assassins, but the first few parts we can work with.”

(Y/N) nodded, setting her teacup down on its saucer and glancing down at the pad of paper filled with her messy scribbles. “I think that the first man I heard speak, the one worried about the SSR discovering their operation, could’ve been Adam Fieldman. It was dark but I may be able to identify him once we get ahold of his photograph.” She glanced up at him over the rims of her reading glasses. “We should definitely focus on him; based on the way he spoke, he might be an easy one to crack during an interrogation.”

Jack shrugged at her suggestion. “Agreed, but it’s not like the two of us can raid the place and bring him into the SSR for questioning; if we do that then everyone, including Carter, is gonna find out exactly what we’ve been up to. Oh, and are we just gonna breeze past the fact that you’ve been carrying a pen-bomb in your purse this whole time and you didn’t tell anyone about it?”

Ana, who had just entered the kitchen, let out a laugh. “Miss (Y/L/N) has many tricks up her sleeve, does she not? I must leave for my life-drawing class now, so I’ll see you all later!”

“Ah, goodbye darling!”

Ignoring the passionate goodbye kiss the husband and wife were sharing mere feet away, Jack raised an eyebrow at the codebreaker. “That thing wasn’t SSR tech, was it?”

“I may or may not have saved it from my old OSS days during the war.” (Y/N) gave him a mischievous grin. “I always knew it would come in handy someday.”

“Apparently.” Draining the last drops of coffee from his cup, Jack stood and took his dishes over to the sink where Jarvis had resumed cleaning up. “You got any ideas on what we should do, Jarvis?”

“Well, for one, I believe you should wash your own dishes, as you are neither my employer nor a severely injured guest.” Jarvis replied dryly before going over to where (Y/N) was seated at the table. “Are you finished with your breakfast, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/N) smiled up at the butler as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you, Jarvis, it was delicious but I can wash my own-”

“You must stay off your feet for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), or else your stitches may loosen. And absolutely no arguing.” Jarvis added sternly, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes but complied as he collected her dishes. “As for your current conundrum, Chief Thompson, it could easily be solved by simply telling Miss Carter exactly what you’re up to.”

Sighing, Jack looked up from the soapy water and exchanged a look with (Y/N) before meeting the butler’s hard gaze. “We told you, Jarvis, Carter can’t know about our investigation just yet.”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, a sympathetic expression on her face as Jarvis turned to her. “He’s right, Jarvis. I know how badly her brother’s death affected her; if we tell Peg that Michael faked his death and spent the last few years committing war crimes but somehow end up being wrong about it, it’ll crush her.” The codebreaker nervously tugged at the sleeve of her robe and let out a breath. “And if we end up being right…well, at least we’ll have some actual proof to go along with our word.”

“…I still don’t feel entirely comfortable keeping something this momentous from Miss Carter, but I suppose that you’re correct about needing proof.” All of the sudden, Jarvis’ drawn face brightened. “You could always ask the Los Angeles police force for their aid!”

“The L.A.P.D.? I’ve got a lot of connections, pal, but I don’t have any in the…” Jack whirled around and grinned as the distant memory of an enthusiastic young officer handing (Y/N) his card all those weeks ago suddenly came to the forefront of his mind. “It looks like we’ve gotta pay a visit to that rookie cop friend of yours, Specs.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Los Angeles, California

“Ooo turn it up, this is one of my favorites! Oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, how you can love! Oh Johnny, oh Johnny, Heaven’s above…!”

“Ah, geez, not again…”

“You make my sad heart jump with joy, and when you’re near I just can’t sit still a minute…!”

“You know you’re crazy, right?”

“I’m so, oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, please tell me dear, what makes me love you so?”

“Yep, definitely crazy.”

“You’re not handsome, it’s true but when I look at you I just, oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, oh…!” With a bright smile on her face, (Y/N) began humming along to the lively tune and tapping her fingers on her steering wheel; her smile only widened when she glanced over and caught the exasperated look on Jack’s face. “What? I love the Andrews Sisters!”

Jack rubbed his face tiredly, but (Y/N) could see that he was having a difficult time repressing his grin. “I know, you sing along to every single one of their songs whenever they come on the radio. Seriously, I’m gonna have to call up every radio network in the city and get ‘em to stop playing the Andrews Sisters just so I can get at least a little break from the gals!”

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, (Y/N) returned her gaze to the road. “Well, you don’t have a car and since you refuse to borrow one of Howard’s, it looks like you’re stuck riding with me, my music and my singing. In other words, you’d better get used it, Flyboy.”

For the duration of the car ride, they continued to debate about their favorite and least favorite singers and groups; they reached the police precinct before anymore Andrews Sisters songs could play, much to (Y/N)’s disappointment and Jack’s elation. They had arranged to meet Officer Henry Zhang to discuss the result of the L.A.P.D.’s search of Fieldman Family Orangery; since they had no probable cause to search the orangery, Officer Zhang had suggested they phone-in an anonymous tip about a suspected breach in fire safety protocol. That way, the L.A.P.D. – but more importantly, Officer Zhang – would be free to search the premises for any sign of the strange devices meant for shipment. Fingers crossed that the whole thing wasn’t a bust, (Y/N) thought to herself as she parked and switched off the engine before getting out of the car.

“You know, Specs, you’re a pretty decent singer, even if you only ever sing the Andrews Sisters.” Jack remarked on their way up the steps that led to the precinct; (Y/N) snorted in amusement and he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re the first person to actually compliment – well, half compliment – my singing; when I first began working with the Howling Commandos, Dum Dum Dugan used to say that my ‘goddamn caterwauling’ could deafen the entire German army if properly weaponized. As I recall, the other guys got a good laugh out of that one.”

Jack scoffed. “Dugan’s hearing must’ve been damaged from all those ‘Wa-Hoo’s’ he shouted in the war.” She laughed loudly at that; the large man’s deafening war cry was definitely an acquired taste, so much so that during her first couple of months with the Howlies, she used to stuff small pieces of wax into her ears whenever she went on missions with them. They reached the doors of the precinct and Jack was quick to hold the door open for her. “And for your information, that was a full complement I just gave you. You’ve got a really nice singing voice, Specs.”

His unexpectedly kind words combined with his trademark lopsided grin caused (Y/N)’s heart to jolt in her chest and try as she might, it was impossible to keep the growing smile off her face as they entered the building. Once they had checked in with the officer stationed at the front desk they made their way downstairs to Officer Zhang’s brand-new office, which turned out to be the building’s boiler room but with a small desk crammed into the corner.

“Sorry it’s such a tight squeeze in here, this was the only empty room the precinct had.” Henry winced as Jack bumped his elbow hard against the boiler and (Y/N) removed her hat to prevent it from being crushed against the pipes beside her head. The young officer’s frown quickly shifted into an excitement-filled smile. “But I’m the youngest officer to ever get their own office in this precinct, so that’s a plus! Did you guys want anythin’ to eat or drink? I think I’ve got-”

“We’re good, Zhang, but thanks for the offer.” Jack abruptly interrupted as he eyed the boiler beside him that had just made an ominous noise.

(Y/N) smiled patiently at Henry while surreptitiously elbowing Jack in the ribs for his rudeness. “How did everything go yesterday at the orangery? Did you find any evidence that the business is a front for weapons manufacturing?”

Henry shook his head, reaching over his desk and handing her a file; after pausing a moment to slip on her reading glasses, she opened it and began scanning its contents with Jack peering over her shoulder. “You were right, it looked like they packed up shop after your run-in with ‘em last week. I took a few photographs of the place for you guys to look over, though; since you saw it before, you might be able to spot somethin’ I didn’t.”

“The stunt we pulled must’ve really shaken ‘em if they went through all the trouble to pack up and relocate their entire operation.” Jack let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate it when criminals think fast. Any sign of Adam Fieldman?”

“Nope, his old man said he left town on business the other night but couldn’t say where; since you told me to be discrete I didn’t press him for details but he sounded like he was tellin’ the truth.” He gestured to the file (Y/N) was still examining. “I also included anything the L.A.P.D. has on Fieldman’s background, but it’s not much. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to help you guys…”

Hearing the normally boisterous officer sound so downtrodden caused (Y/N)’s heart to lurch; despite how cramped the room was, she managed to reach a hand out to clasp one of his. “You’ve done a great job, Officer Zhang, we couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help us out.” She elbowed Jack again as she gave Henry an encouraging smile. “Isn’t that right, Chief Thompson?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, you’ve really helped us out, kid.”

Henry’s face reddened at their praise, and (Y/N) had to stifle a giggle as he leisurely leaned back in his chair in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Well, if you two ever need anythin’ else you know where to find me.”

They bid the young officer goodbye and as they left the precinct, Jack tilted his fedora on his head and grumbled, “I think that elbow of yours might’ve punctured a kidney.”

“A miraculous feat, considering your kidneys are near your backbone and not your hip.” (Y/N) jokingly retorted, carefully pinning her hat back onto her hair and tucking her reading glasses into her purse as they walked back down the steps to the sidewalk. “Henry didn’t give us much but it’s a lot more than what we had before; that counts as a win in my books.”

Jack shrugged. “I guess so, but have you noticed that our secret investigation isn’t much of a secret anymore? I mean, Stark knows about it, the Jarvises know about it and now this kid’s in on it; who’s next, Samberly? I-son of a bitch!”

Without warning, Jack ripped the file from her hand and disappeared around the corner of the building; before she could move or speak, she heard a familiar voice calling her name and she turned to see Daniel Sousa limping towards her. Her heart hammering in her chest, (Y/N) raised a hand in greeting and silently prayed that he hadn’t seen Jack with her. “Hey there, Chief Sousa! Are you enjoying your lunch break?”

“Not exactly, I had to finish up some paperwork on a joint case and deliver it to this precinct’s Captain.” Daniel gestured to the building with the hand holding his briefcase. “I thought I recognized your car when I pulled up. What’re you doing in this part of town?”

She gave him a tight smile and tried her hardest to stop her hands from nervously fidgeting. “I just had lunch at the diner around the corner. If you’re looking for something to eat later, I’d definitely recommend the chicken noodle soup.”

“I’ll be sure to give it a try,” The chief’s grin faded a little as he examined the steps leading up to the precinct with obvious apprehension. “If I survive these steps, that is.”

“Well, um, would you like some help getting up?”

“So, Agent, you’re presuming that since I’m handicapped I automatically need help doing things?”

(Y/N) felt the color leave her face and all thoughts of concealing Jack’s presence flew out of her mind as she hastily replied, “O-of course not, Chief, I just-”

Her rambling was interrupted by Daniel’s chuckle. “Relax, (Y/L/N), I was only messing with you; I lost my leg during the war, not my sense of humor! And to answer your question, yes, a little help would be appreciated. I don’t have any trouble getting down steps with this thing, but going up? It’s a genuine pain in the ass.”

“Okay, then.” (Y/N) slipped her arm into the crook of Daniel’s before they began making their slow trek up the steps, the clicking of his metal crutch on the stone filling the silence. “Do you mind if I ask you-?”

“-How I lost it?” Daniel finished the question and she sheepishly nodded. “Well, I was a reconnaissance scout in the 28^th Infantry and during the Siege of Bastogne, a few of us scouts were pinned down by enemy fire. I got hit in the leg by some shrapnel and by the time the others got me to a medic, there was no saving it.”

(Y/N) nodded again. “I’ve heard stories about that battle. You’re one of the lucky ones, you know.”

That made Daniel grin. “Oh, I know. Peggy never lets me forget it. Somedays it doesn’t feel like it – like when I have to navigate some tricky steps or when Thompson takes one too many jabs at my leg – but when I remember that everything that’s happened to me in the past has led me to her, well…it makes things a little bit easier.” They finally reached the top of the steps and (Y/N) released his arms once she was sure he was steady. “Thank you for the help, but do you think you can keep this under wraps for me? The last thing I want is Thompson to make some more cracks about us in the office…”

“Of course.” Although she had kept her gaze on Daniel the entire time, (Y/N) knew that Jack had seen and possibly heard everything that had transpired; good, she thought to herself, he deserves to hear exactly how his careless words can affect others. They’d forgiven one another for the things they’d said out of anger, true, but a small part of her was reluctant to forgive the hurtful jab that had only served to remind her of her traumatic past. “Well, I should start heading back to the office. I’ll see you later, Chief Sousa.”

She turned to head back down the steps but halted when Daniel called her name once again. When she turned back around, he had an awkward expression on his face. “I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you alone since you re-joined the SSR but since you’re here now…Peggy told me a little about what you went through during the war and what happened to…well, I just wanted to offer you my condolences.”

“T-thank you, Chief.” (Y/N) gave him what she hoped had been a smile of gratitude before turning on her heel and hurrying back down the steps, ignoring the twinge of pain her quick movements brought the almost-healed wound beneath her skirt. By the time she reached the car, Jack had already gotten in and based on the clouded expression on his face, he’d heard everything they’d said on the steps. I can’t deal with this right now, she sighed inwardly but got into the driver’s seat with an overly-cheerful grin. “Ready to go, Flyboy?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, (Y/N) and Jack sat in the cozy living room of Stark’s mansion and worked on the case, Jack lounging on a sofa as he read through the files Henry had provided them and (Y/N) sitting cross-legged on the floor as she flicked through her translation journals. At the other end of the room were Edwin and Ana, entirely focused on their Benny Goodman radio program as they sat together on another sofa.

The familiar strains of music helped (Y/N) relax and after a while, she noticed that the tension between her and Jack seemed to have disappeared altogether. The silence during the ride back to the office and to Howard’s mansion had been incredibly awkward, and (Y/N) knew it had been because they both were thinking about her and Daniel’s exchange. I’m not going to discuss it unless he brings it up first, (Y/N) thought firmly as she pushed her reading glasses back up the bridge of her nose, we’ve only just moved past our differences and something that touchy might send us right back to square one.

“Another excellent program by Mr. Goodman!” Ana’s exclamation brought (Y/N) out of her silent rumination and she looked up from her work just as the couple stood and yawned. “Well, goodnight Miss (Y/L/N), Chief Thompson.”

“Yes, and try not to make too much noise; tomorrow is silver-polishing day.”

Jack mumbled distractedly, his eyes still trained on the files, so (Y/N) gave the tired couple a small wave. “Goodnight.” Once she heard the faint sound of their bedroom door being closed, she fell sideways with a small groan and rolled so that she was laying on her back. “I think I’m starting to hate codebreaking.”

She could hear Jack’s smirk in his voice as he replied, “I take it Michael’s got you stumped again?”

“…Maybe. I’m sure I’ll have better luck if I look at this tomorrow.” She rolled to her side and rested her head in her hand to look at him. “Have you had any luck with those files?”

“Not really, I think I’m in the same boat as you right now. I’ll give Agent Cabrera a ring tomorrow morning and see if he can’t dig up anything more on Fieldman in the New York files; it’s a long shot, but our office has a bigger collection of files than the West Coast SSR does so something might show up.” Snapping the file closed and tossing it onto the ground, he sat up on the couch and stretched out his arms. “You know, back in New York, Sousa and I would go out drinking if we ever got stuck on a case. We’d put the case out of our minds and relax so that when we took another crack at it, it would be with a fresh perspective.”

“As great as that sounds, Chief Sousa asked us to come in early tomorrow to help catalogue the records room; that means no drinking tonight, Flyboy.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh. “Sousa’s turned into a real stick in the mud since moving out here.” They began silently putting loose papers back into their files and just as (Y/N) finished packing up her briefcase, Jack cleared his throat to get her attention. “I remember Carter mentioning the other week that you solve easy codes to relax and unwind so I was thinking…well, if you ever need a break from Michael’s codes, you could always teach me a little. About codebreaking, I mean.”

Taken aback by his words, (Y/N) turned to face him. “You want to learn about codebreaking? You, Lieutenant Junior Grade Thompson, want me to teach you about codes?”

“You don’t have to sound so goddamn surprised about it.” Before he turned away from her, (Y/N) caught a glimpse of the look of annoyance and hurt on his face, and she quickly realized she’d inadvertently touched a nerve with her teasing. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“Thompson, wait-”

“I said forget it.”

“But I didn’t-”

He whirled around to face her again and the next few sentences seemed to explode out of him. “You know, everyone thinks that I’m just this big dumb war hero, that all I’ll ever be is some fat-head bully with a Navy Cross, and I’m getting sick of it!

“Jack, I didn’t mean to-”

“They all think that I’m this guy that I never was! They expect me to act a certain way, to be a soldier always and forever without thinking about what I want!” Breathing hard through his clenched teeth, Jack’s eyes searched her face and after a moment, his tense shoulders sagged and his blue eyes lowered. “And…it’s getting harder and harder to live with the shit man I’ve become because of it.”

The tension in the air was thick as they both stood absolutely still, Jack staring intently at the carpeted ground and (Y/N) studied her clasped hands. Being confronted by his past words and actions earlier that day had obviously caused Jack to feel guilt, something that was also gnawing at (Y/N); since the moment she’d met him, she had a very specific and narrow idea of who he was that had been based entirely on her past experiences with men in power and the opinions of others, but now it was clear to see that she’d unfairly and prematurely misjudged the man before her. Along with the rest of the world, it seems, she thought to herself with a twinge of sadness and shame.

(Y/N) glanced up and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached forward and rested a gentle hand on Jack’s forearm. His gaze quickly rose to meet hers and an understanding seemed to pass between them as Jack’s eyes softened; (Y/N) didn’t realize she was softly smiling until she spoke. “We’ll start with the Caesar Shift code and go from there.” He gave her a nod and she moved away to grab her hat and briefcase, murmuring a quick farewell before turning to leave.

“Hey, Specs.” She turned to see a hint of Jack’s familiar grin light up his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t go easy on me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Flyboy.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Stark Mansion, Los Angeles

Just as Jack pinned the last photograph to the board and stepped back to admire his work, there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s open!”

“Ana went searching through her knitting supplies and found what you…what’s all this?”

“This, Jarvis, is an evidence board; I used to force the boys do ‘em back in New York for certain cases, mostly so they could keep track of evidence and discover new leads.” Jack took the spool of red yarn from Jarvis and grabbed a pair of scissors before measuring and cutting off strings. “We’ve got a lot of evidence that doesn’t match up, so I thought it’d be a good idea to lay it all out and see how everything connects.”

Jarvis made an impressed sound as he examined the board on the wall. “Several months ago, Ana joined a book club and we found that it was easier for her to understand the novels if she read them aloud to me. Why don’t you try the same thing with your evidence?”

Looking up from his work, Jack gave the butler a look of suspicion. “I thought you didn’t approve of our investigation.”

“I never said that, I merely pointed out that keeping your investigation from Miss Carter was morally wrong.” Jarvis retorted as he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Go on, then. If it makes you more comfortable, you can always pretend you’re talking to Miss (Y/L/N) instead.”

Something about the butler’s suggestive tone and the knowing gleam in his eyes caused Jack’s face to warm, and he hastily turned back towards the board with his red strings in hand. “Um, okay then. In 1917, Michael Carter was born in Hampstead, England to Harrison and Amanda Carter, and Peggy was born four years later.” Jack wrapped one end of a string around the thumbtack above Michael’s photograph and secured the other end to the one above Peggy’s SSR profile. “He kept his nose clean, made good grades in school and in ‘34, he was accepted into Cambridge University, where he studied Philosophy and Literature. He shared an apartment-sorry, a flat…” He glanced at Jarvis just as the butler gave him an eye-roll. “…with Adam Fieldman and William Attwell, two other students at Cambridge.”

“And this Adam Fieldman is the one with the connection to the orangery Miss (Y/L/N) infiltrated?”

Jack nodded, using another string to connect Michael’s photograph to one of Adam Fieldman. “Yep, his old man owns it. According to one of the codes, the orangery was a front for the manufacturing and distribution of devices based on one of Stark’s stolen blueprints…at least, it was up until the other week. Anyways, I did a little digging and found out that Attwell joined the Royal Air Force in ’39 but was shot down during the Battle of Berlin; since his body was recovered from the wreck and identified by his family, we’ve ruled him out as an associate of Michael’s. Fieldman tried enlisting in the U.S. Army right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in ’41 but when he was declared 4F on account of his scoliosis, he officially moved back to the States to work for his old man.” He pointed to a sheet of paper pinned beneath Michael’s photograph. “According to both an official British Royal Army report and a copy of an SOE file, Michael was declared missing in action in ’40; there was no body recovered, but it was assumed that he died on the battlefield and was buried in a mass grave.”

Moving forward, Jarvis gestured to a document pinned onto the lower half of the board. “And what’s this?”

“That’s a summary of all the information (Y/N) and I pulled from ‘M. Carter’s’ file. During the whole Zero Matter thing back in July, Vernon Masters sent me to London to get dirt on Peggy; a buddy of mine in MI5 gave me that file documenting her alleged war crimes, but I realized pretty quick that there’s no way Peggy could’ve done those things. I decided I’d take it back to New York with me once the Zero Matter case got closed, but not before making a copy and hiding it at the SSR; good thing I did, too, ‘cause I was shot and the original file was stolen…but anyways, yeah, that’s everything we’ve gotten from the file so far.”

“You haven’t said anything about this man,” The butler pointed to another photograph attached to a handwritten address. “Is he the one who shot you?”

“Nope, that’s Aaron Templeton and his last known address; we think he’s a hired hand who helped carry out the bank robbery downtown a few weeks back.” Jack connected his photograph to Michael’s with another string. “Based on the intel (Y/N) gathered from the orangery, Templeton was bumped off for leaving the device behind after the robbery, so that proves he wasn’t that integral to their plans. They made off with forty thousand dollars in gold, so we’ve theorized that they’re using the gold to fund their operation.” He looked back at Jarvis and frowned at his befuddled expression. “What?”

Jarvis gave him a small shrug and forced smile. “Oh, it’s nothing.” But as Jack continued to stare him down, he hastily added, “Well, this may very well be my inner Agatha Christie fan speaking, but there appears to be quite a few gaps in your investigation. Who was your shooter? What exactly is Mr. Carter’s so-called operation and why does it need funding? And why did Mr. Carter supposedly write down valuable information in the file and risk possible exposure?”

“I can see why Stark keeps you around.” Jack grumbled, his good mood slowly dampening at the butler’s words; their case wasn’t simple as he presumed it was, and it was clearer than ever that if he wanted to return to New York, they had a lot more work to do. And they said life after the war would be easy, Jack thought with an inward eye-roll. “Well, thanks for your honesty, Jarvis. I guess I’ll have to-”

The ringing of the telephone interrupted his words, and he watched as Jarvis strode across the room to answer it. “Mr. Stark’s residence.” His face brightened. “Miss Carter! How are you?” After a moment, his smile fell. “Chief Thompson? He’s, um, he’s sunbathing by the pool, of course; he mentioned this morning that he wished to work on his tan.” Jack rolled his eyes at the lie. “Would you like me to give him a message? Splendid, we shall see you soon.” He set the handset back down on its receiver and turned to face Jack. “That was Miss Carter. She was calling to inform you that she’ll be here shortly with some paperwork for you to sign regarding a routine prisoner transfer.”

“All right, I’m gonna give (Y/L/N) a call to let her know.” Once Jarvis left the room, Jack went over to the phone and picked up the handset before dialing the telephone number he’d unintentionally committed to memory.

“Hello?”

The obvious exhaustion in the codebreaker’s voice caused Jack to frown in concern. “Geez, Specs, you sound like shit. I didn’t wake you up, did I? It’s almost noon!”

He could barely make out (Y/N)’s familiar sigh of exasperation. “You’re a real charmer, you know? And yes, in fact, you did wake me up; I was up late working on a code and finally called it quits around four in the morning.”

“(Y/L/N)...”

“I know, I know, I should get more sleep but that damn code…” She let out frustrated huff. “I take it you didn’t call just to scold me about my terrible sleep patterns, though. What’s up?”

“Peggy’s coming over in a bit with paperwork for me to sign, so we’re not gonna be able to meet up until later. I’ll give you a ring to let you know when it’s okay to come over.”

“Okay, that’ll give me a chance to look over that code with fresh eyes. Oh, and that reminds me, when I come over I want to see what sort of progress you’re making on the code I gave you to practice with the other day.”

“Sure, just as soon as you cough up those two bucks you owe me.”

Jack could practically hear her rolling her eyes, and it took all he had not to laugh out loud. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you bet me two bucks that the Dodgers were gonna win the World Series and last I checked, they got their asses handed to ‘em last Monday by the Yankees. Got anything smart to say to that, Specs?”

“…Nope, have a good day!”

There was a soft click before the line went silent, and Jack didn’t even bother suppressing his chuckle of amusement that time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re in an uncharacteristically good mood today, Jack; could it be that you’re finally beginning to enjoy Los Angeles?”

Jack shrugged noncommittally as he scribbled his signature on the bottom of a document. “More like beginning to tolerate it.” He glanced up just in time to catch Peggy’s smirk. “What?”

Her smile widened. “Nothing, it’s just that I didn’t think very highly of Los Angeles when I first arrived out here either, but I’ve slowly grown to appreciate the…unique charms that the West Coast has to offer.”

“Unique charms, huh? Is that a new nickname you’ve given to Sousa, and can I start calling him that too?”

“Sod off, Thompson.” Jack chuckled as Peggy shot him a glare; once he finished his work, she gathered up the newly-signed documents and tucked them neatly into her briefcase. “Well, that’s all I have for you. Naturally, I would’ve waited until Monday to have you sign these but the FBI was rather agitated that they hadn’t received them yet. Their charm knows no bounds, doesn’t it?”

“No kidding. They’re probably still pissed off about the whole Vernon Masters thing; it’s not the SSR’s fault he got blown to hell by Whitney Frost, but I guess they don’t see it like that.” Standing up from the dining room table, Jack faked a yawn as he stretched his arms. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Marge, I’ve gotta get some more tanning in before my afternoon nap.”

Rolling her eyes, Peggy stood and put her hat back on before grabbing her briefcase. “Well, don’t let me stop you, I’m just going to have a quick word with Mr. Jarvis before I leave.”

To keep Peggy from becoming suspicious, Jack made his way into Stark’s sprawling backyard and made himself comfortable on one of the chaise lounges beside the pool; he stretched his legs out, crossed his ankles and, with his hands resting behind his head, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, maybe I could get used to this…”

Although Jack would never publicly admit it, Peggy’s speculation had been correct; the longer he’d stayed in Los Angeles, the more he’d been enjoying himself. The endless sunshine and glitzy Hollywood scene couldn’t take all the credit for his feelings, as that honor belonged to a certain snarky codebreaker. Since the end of the war, he hadn’t exactly had friends. He’d had many great coworkers and a couple of brief romantic flings, sure, but he’d never truly felt comfortable enough around any of them to open up in any sort of meaningful way. With (Y/N), however, it was a different story and he’d found himself appreciating her more and more for that as their partnership grew. You’d better not get too comfortable, he once again warned himself, as soon as you solve this case you’re headed back to New York, hopefully to bigger and better things if you’re lucky, and she’ll still be here…

The nearby sound of a dry leaf being stepped on startled Jack out of his silent contemplation; snapping his eyes open, he looked over just in time to see a large, black-clad man lunging towards him with a knife in hand. Acting on instinct, Jack rolled himself off the lounge chair and sprang to his feet in time to dodge another swipe of his knife. Jack caught the man’s wrist and twisted it sharply so that the knife slipped out of his grasp; he kicked it into the pool just before the man landed a hard punch on his jaw that sent him reeling. The man kicked his stomach and his back hit the wall of the pool house hard; before Jack could react, the man punched him again before wrapping his hands around his neck and squeezing. Struggling for air, Jack slammed his arms down on the man’s and used the distraction to head-butt him before landing a couple of punches to his face, the last one causing the man to drop unconscious to the ground.

Panting, Jack wiped away a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and took the opportunity to get a good look at his attacker; he was light-haired, muscular and definitely familiar, but Jack couldn’t think of where he might’ve seen him before.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Thompson! Thompson?”

Peggy’s faint call made Jack spring into action; he picked his attacker up in a fireman’s hold and staggered into the pool house, throwing the unconscious man onto the ground and slamming the door closed behind him. He peeked through the curtains just as Peggy came into view; she glanced around the backyard for a moment before shrugging and going back into the house, much to Jack’s relief. He glanced back down at the man on the floor with a deepening frown. “Now, who the hell are you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost as soon as (Y/N) laid eyes on Jack, her easy-going smile was replaced with a look of concern; when she gently touched his chin and moved his head to get a better look at his swollen cheek and neck, Jack was grateful that his blush was masked by the rapidly-forming bruises. “He really did a number on you, Flyboy. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m definitely doing better than he is.” Jack tried to grin but only ended up wincing in pain. “Not by much, though. C’mon, I’ve got him tied up in the pool house; let’s wake him up and find out who he is.” He led her into the backyard and to the pool house, holding the door open for (Y/N) to enter. “There’s something about him that seems familiar, but-”

“I know who he is.” Jack turned towards her and watched as she stared down at the unconscious man tied to a chair. “He’s one of the guards from Fieldman Family Orangery; I knocked him out with my compact mirror.” She looked back up at him, her brow furrowed in concern. “It looks like you just foiled another one of their assassination attempts.”

He nodded. “And this time I’m getting a few answers for my troubles.” Striding over to the man, Jack kicked the leg of the chair and stepped back when the man jolted awake. “Had a good nap, Sleeping Beauty? Now, my partner and I are gonna need you to answer a few questions for us, so how ‘bout we start with a name.”

The man spat onto the ground and growled, “Screw you.”

“Well, that’s not very polite.” Jack quipped, grabbing the man’s blonde hair and wrenching his head up before punching him in the face; the man groaned and Jack stepped back to look at the rapidly-swelling welt on his cheek. “How ‘bout we try that again; who are you?”

“You’re gonna…you’re gonna have to try harder than that, Chief Thompson.”

Jack raised his fist to strike him again just as (Y/N) latched onto his arm. “Thompson, wait! We’re never going to get him to talk this way-”

“Sure we are, every suspect I interrogated for the SSR started singin’ like a bird after only five minutes alone in a room with me.” He gave the man a hard glare over (Y/N)’s shoulder before looking back down at her. “This mook won’t be a problem.”

(Y/N) huffed with impatience. “I don’t doubt that you’re a skilled interrogator, Flyboy, but I’m telling you that he’s on a whole other level. If we’re going to get information out of him, we need to try another way and I think I’ve got one.” Her (Y/E/C) eyes pleaded with him to trust her and after a long moment, Jack sighed and took a step back; her gaze softened as she gave him a brief nod. “Thank you.”

The man let out a snort of amusement when (Y/N) approached him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hey there, sweet-cheeks. What’s a pretty thing like you gonna do to me? Teach me to crochet?”

Jack’s hands clenched into fists but he forced himself to stay calm and let (Y/N) continue the interrogation herself; she smiled easily at the man and began pacing before him. “No, but we can always get to that later on if you’re not feeling too sick.” Both Jack and the man frowned in confusion. “Oh, I recognized it the moment I stepped into this room; you’re an opiate addict. As I’m sure you know, it can be very uncomfortable for an addict to be without their chosen drug for too long and judging by the way you look right now, it’s been quite a while since you’ve had a fix.”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” The man’s face had lost all color and his hands were twitching against the arms of the chair.

“Right now, you’re experiencing some heavy sweating and anxiety, but you’re most likely used to those symptoms at this point in your addiction.” (Y/N) sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Unfortunately for you, though, what you’re feeling now is nothing compared to how you’re going to feel later tonight. Abdominal cramping, tremors, vomiting…yes, it’s going to be a very uncomfortable time for you, especially since no one but the two of us knows you’re here.” How the hell does she know so much about dope addictions, Jack silently pondered, adding it to the ever-expanding list of questions he’d been dying to ask his partner. She turned back to face the man, her mouth set in a hard line. “So if you want to avoid all that unpleasantness, then I suggest you answer my partner’s question; who are you?”

The man immediately stammered out, “P-Peter Hanson.”

Jack moved to stand beside (Y/N). “Good, that wasn’t so hard. Why were you trying to kill me?”

“I was hired to, okay? The boss of my boss thought you were onto him so I was hired to bump you off in your hotel room! Once the main boss heard you were still alive, I was hired again and told that if I fail this time, he’d cut off my supply.” Jack and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Hanson added impatiently, “My dope supply, he knows that I need it!”

(Y/N) crossed her arms once again. “All right, then. Now, tell us the names of your bosses, what they were up to at Fieldman Family Orangery and where they are now.”

Hanson let out a frustrated growl and bit his lip before answering, “The guy who hired me, his name’s Thomas, Thomas Attwell, but I don’t know the main boss’ name or what they do. I haven’t seen any of ‘em in weeks, either.”

“You hungry, Specs? How ‘bout we go grab a bite to eat and come back later?” Jack suggested. “I’m sure our new friend here wouldn’t mind waiting for us…”

“I’m not lyin’! I’m just a hired hitman, my boss never talked serious business ‘round me!” Hanson frowned, as if he was trying to recall something. “I remember one time, though, Attwell was talkin’ to another guy at the orangery – son of the guy who owned the place, I think – and he kept callin’ their work a ‘Secret Empire’ or somethin’ like that, like it was a code.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened at his words, but before Jack could react, Hanson shakily continued. “Look, these guys are nuts; I saw them torture and kill a guy just ‘cause they said he lost somethin’ important to ‘em, and that’s not even the worst thing I’ve seen. I just wanna get away from ‘em before I get in too deep…”

“Well, we need to verify the information you’ve given us before there’s any talk of what to do with you, so if you’ll excuse us…” (Y/N) ushered Jack out of the pool house and closed the door before hurrying alongside him into the mansion and to his room, where their evidence board was still hanging on the wall; she quickly made a bee-line to the board and, after putting on her reading glasses, looked over the documents and photographs pinned onto it. “Where’s the-ah, here! Yep, Thomas Attwell is the younger brother of William Attwell, Michael’s former roommate in college; I’d bet my Fleetmaster that he’s the mystery man I heard talking in the orangery.”

Standing beside her, Jack pointed to the photograph of Adam Fieldman. “And you were right about what you said the other week, Fieldman’s definitely the second guy you heard in the orangery.” He grabbed his red yarn strings and a pen, working on amending the board as he talked. “From the sound of it, Fieldman’s in charge of the manufacturing and distribution aspect of their little operation while Attwell’s there to keep their guys in check for Michael. But we still don’t know why the hell they’re robbing banks with stolen Stark tech-”

“I do.” With a weary look, (Y/N) took of her reading glasses and set them on the desk beside them. “The Secret Empire isn’t code for anything, it’s the name of an organization that existed within Hydra during the war. Originally, it started out as a criminal enterprise that generated financial support for Hydra after they broke away from Hitler and the Nazis; they also worked to secretly distract the SSR from Hydra’s activities whenever they could so needless to say, they were a massive pain in our asses throughout the war.”

Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. “If they only existed during the war, then why’s there a chucklehead in the pool house saying they’re still around?”

“Before Steve Rogers took down Hydra in ‘45, there were some rumors going around that the Secret Empire wanted to break away and form their own independent group. It was just here-say, though, and when Hydra fell we all assumed that the Secret Empire went down with them; thinking back on it now, it was a little weird that there was complete and total radio-silence on their end…” (Y/N) bit her lip as her gaze danced between Jack and the evidence board. “What if a new iteration of the Secret Empire got a hold of Howard’s blueprints, used them to manufacture weapons and began committing bank robberies as a way to build their organization back up?”

“That explains why the bank robbers ignored the cash and only went after the gold; that’s a universal currency if I’ve ever seen one.” With a sigh, Jack stepped forward and tapped a finger against the photograph of a smiling Michael Carter. “So, I guess Michael really was Hydra the whole time, and now he’s a member of this new Secret Empire. There’s one question Hanson didn’t answer, though: What’s their next move?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. They both whirled around to see Howard Stark standing in their doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his signature smirk on his face. “I think I can answer that one for you, Chief Thompson. But first, could you two do somethin’ about the guy in the pool house? I’ve got a pool party scheduled for later tonight and I can’t have him ruining the mood for everyone…”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Stark Mansion, Los Angeles

Although (Y/N) had long-since grown accustom to living an unconventional lifestyle, she never expected to spend her Friday afternoon sitting in the living room of Howard Stark’s mansion and watching as the inventor showed off the equipment that she and Jack would be using that evening while dressed in a blue silk robe with her hair set in tight curlers. Reminds me of the good old days, (Y/N) thought to herself, biting back a fond smile as she recalled the look on Howard’s face when Peggy shot at Steve Rogers’ brand-new vibranium shield in the middle of his SSR laboratory.

On the same day (Y/N) and Jack had interrogated Jack’s would-be assassin, Howard informed them that through his various connections, he’d learned that a batch of his illegally-manufactured weapons were going to be handed off at The Palladium, a lively nightclub on Sunset Boulevard. And since he wanted to ensure that the copies of his invention wouldn’t fall into the hands of criminals again, Howard insisted on helping them run their undercover operation and both Edwin and Ana Jarvis volunteered their services to them not long after. (Y/N) was grateful for the extra help, of course, but it was incredibly awkward working alongside Howard after she’d slapped the man across the face the last time they’d spoken. Neither of them had brought the incident up, but they’d been nothing but civil to one another.

“And here we’ve got the two-way communication radios.” Howard pulled a jewelry box out of his briefcase and opened it to reveal a stunning diamond necklace and drop earrings. “These are yours, of course; I’m not sure Thompson can pull off diamonds like you can.”

She raised a curious brow. “Tiffany or Cartier?”

The inventor scoffed and grinned good-naturedly. “Tiffany, naturally. Only the best for a Stark invention!” He set the jewelry box down and reached for a pair of glasses. “These are for Thompson, but…wait, there’s a scratch on the lens. Jarvis!”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” The butler’s voice drifted through the hallway from the laundry room, where he was busy cleaning Jack’s dinner jacket.

“Did you scratch my two-way communication radio glasses when you went undercover with that Russian dame?”

“…I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Stark.”

Howard sighed dramatically. “Butlers. ‘Scuse me for a moment, would ya?” Grumbling under his breath about how his inventions deserved more respect, Howard disappeared down the hall.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) stood from her spot on the couch and grabbed her cosmetic case before making her way over to the large mirror beside the piano. Her makeup looked fine but she knew she needed to keep herself busy to distract from her nervousness; carefully touching up her eyelashes, she couldn’t help but worry that she would somehow ruin their mission with her inexperience in going undercover.

“Sorry I’m late, I had a telephone call from Agent Cabrera that went on forever and-” Through the mirror, (Y/N) watched Jack enter the living room with a weary look on his face that quickly brightened once he caught sight of her ridiculous appearance. “You look, ah-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Flyboy, because I’m sure that whatever you were about to say would only end up trying my already-thin patience.”

With his trademark grin on his face, Jack raised his hands in surrender and went over to the table that Howard’s inventions rested on. “Someone’s in a testy mood today. Did Stark piss you off or something, ‘cause you said you weren’t gonna let him get to you-”

“No, it’s not him, it’s…” (Y/N) trailed off as the anxiety she’d been feeling all day began to slowly bubble up within her; swallowing thickly, she set down her tin of cake mascara and its brush before turning to face Jack. “I don’t think I can do this, Thompson, I can’t go undercover at that club tonight. I’ll only end up giving us away and our investigation really can’t afford any mistakes and you said I’d be a bad spy anyways and-”

“Specs, just breathe, okay?” In three long strides Jack was standing before her, his blue eyes filled with concern as he looked her over. “C’mon, take a seat for a sec.” He led her to the couch and leaned against its arm as she sat down. “Look, I know that you’re nervous about going undercover but you really shouldn’t be; we’ve gone over the plan every day this week and I taught you everything I know about what to do and what not to do while undercover. Hell, you even took notes!” (Y/N) cracked a small smile at that, and he reached forward to hold her shoulder. “My point is that you know exactly what you’ve gotta do, Specs, and even though you might not believe that right now, I sure as hell do.”

Jack’s words and soft smile combined with the hand resting on her shoulder caused butterflies to erupt in (Y/N)’s stomach. She was thankfully spared from trying to form a coherent sentence by the re-entrance of Howard Stark, who was followed closely by Edwin and Ana Jarvis; Jack quickly withdrew his hand and leaned away from her just as the inventor looked over at them. “Glad you could finally join us, Chief Thompson! Ready to see your duds for the evening?”

“Okay, I get showing off your tech gadgets, Stark, but why bother with the clothes-?”

Edwin cut off Jack’s inquiry with a look. “It’s best to indulge Mr. Stark, as he cares very much about fashion.” (Y/N) and Jack exchanged matching looks of amusement while the butler held up a garment-laden hangar. “Your dinner jacket, Chief Thompson, along with a waistcoat, bow tie and pocket square. All freshly pressed and ironed, of course.”

“And your evening gown is in one of the spare bedrooms, Miss (Y/L/N), so if you’ll come with me…” (Y/N) followed Ana down the hall and into the bedroom, where a pale pink satin gown hung off the top of the wardrobe. “It was designed by Jacques Fath; Mr. Stark procured it during his trip to the Paris World’s Fair in August.” Noticing (Y/N)’s raised brow, Ana sighed to herself and added, “Mr. Stark is always searching for items he can give as gifts to his many…admirers. I saved this gown from such a fate; I had a hunch that it will suit you far better than it would have suited Joan Blondell.”

“The Joan Blondell?! Well, Ana, you definitely know how to inflate a person’s ego.”

“Of course I do! I work for Howard Stark, after all.”

Laughing, the two women went about finishing (Y/N)’s look for the evening; she brushed and teased her hair into submission, pinning it up into an elaborate chignon at the top of her head as Ana finished sewing her garter-holster. Just as the dusk began to settle outside, (Y/N) carefully slipped on the delicate gown and allowed Ana to tightly lace up the back, stifling her winces of pain as the boning in the bodice dug into her ribs. Tonight had better be worth all this, she inwardly grumbled as Ana left the room to help Howard and Edwin prepare their surveillance truck. Once she stepped into her matching satin heels, she smoothed out the skirt of the gown before turning to look at her reflection in the floor-length mirror.

It took (Y/N) several long moments to comprehend that it was really her own reflection she was gaping at; the evening gown, while not something she’d ever considered wearing in her lifetime, was stunning and bold on her. The bodice clung tightly to her torso and synched at her waist, giving her the illusion of an hourglass figure, and the off-the-shoulder rouching gave the gown a daring element that made her simultaneously grin and flush the longer she stared into the mirror. If this dress isn’t a confidence booster than I don’t know what is, (Y/N) reasoned, giggling to herself as she twirled in a small circle and enjoyed the feeling of her skirt billowing around her.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Hey (Y/N), ya decent?”

(Y/N) smoothed out the skirt of the gown once more and gave her reflection another glance before calling back, “Yes, it’s open!” She turned around as Howard entered the room with his briefcase in hand. “How do I look?”

“Like a million bucks! You’re gonna fit right in with the crowd at The Palladium. Speaking of which, I just gave the manager a ring and had him put you both on the entry list under your fake names; you two shouldn’t have any trouble getting in now.” With a grin, he set his briefcase down on the bed and pulled out the jewelry box containing her diamond necklace and earrings. “It took a little convincing, but that flyboy of yours finally agreed to wear the glasses.”

“He’s not my flyboy, Howard; it’s just the nickname I gave him when we first met and it ended up sticking.”

The inventor looked unconvinced as he handed her the jewelry box and watched her put on the accessories. “Uh-huh. I’ve got another gift but you’ve gotta keep it to yourself, okay? The last thing I want is for another of my inventions to wind up in the wrong hands.” Curious, (Y/N) watched as Howard withdrew an ordinary gold lipstick tube out of the briefcase and gingerly accepted it when he offered it to her. “It’s okay, it’s just a tube of lipstick. I developed different formulas specifically for use in female espionage; this particular formula can make a person forget their last few minutes with just one kiss, and its pigment just so happens to match that dress of yours.”

“Howard, this is amazing!” She closely examined the lipstick tube, raising her eyebrows in amusement when she noticed the etching on the side of the tube: 103-Forget Me Not. “Really, it is! I’ll be sure to put some on before we leave…” Seeing the cheerful expression on Howard’s face reminded her of their comradery during the war, before their friendship abruptly ended in tragedy, and the memory of their most recent exchange filled her with shame; she set the tube of lipstick down on the vanity beside them before reaching forward to clasp one of his hands in her own. “Howard, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately and I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you since the end of the war.”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before meeting Howard’s concerned gaze. “Howard, what happened to…to Freddie, it wasn’t your fault. I was angry and I was hurt, but it was still wrong of me to blame you for what happened in Düsseldorf.” Blinking away the stinging tears in her eyes, (Y/N) let out another steadying breath. “If anyone’s to be blamed, it really should only be-”

Howard cut her off with a firm shake of his head. “Nope, I don’t wanna hear you finish that sentence. You did everything you could to try and prevent what happened, you hear me? And if Freddie were here you know he’d agree with me.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I learned a little while back that the road to self-forgiveness ain’t exactly a smooth one, (Y/N), so if you ever need to talk…”

That was the final straw for (Y/N); she surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around the inventor, hugging him for the first time since the war. Howard returned the embrace and when they pulled apart, she could’ve sworn she heard him sniffle before flashing her a teasing grin. “So, what brought on such a change of heart? That flyboy of yours?”

“Howard…”

“What? It’s just a simple question!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to (Y/N)’s relief, going undercover was less intimidating than she originally anticipated; she and Jack entered The Palladium with no fuss, all thanks to Howard’s earlier telephone call to the nightclub’s owner. I suppose it pays to be friends with a genius millionaire, (Y/N) thought to herself as she clandestinely scanned the crowded and dimly-lit room, taking care not to stare at her partner beside her lest she make a complete fool of herself again.

To say that (Y/N) had been taken aback when she laid eyes on Jack Thompson and his undercover attire would be an understatement. She’d always considered him to be a handsome man, even back when they were less-than-friendly to one another, but seeing him dressed in formal attire and glasses caused something within her to stir; she remembered making a dumb quip about the glasses to mask her reaction but because she’d been so stunned she couldn’t recall what it was for the life of her. You can’t afford any distractions right now, she silently chided herself, not when you’ve got a job to do.

“This is Stark One, requesting a status report from Specs and the Flyboy, over.”

(Y/N) couldn’t suppress her exasperated groan and apparently, neither could her partner; using the loud music from the band to cover his voice, Jack shot back, “Stark, do me a favor and don’t call me that again. Ever.”

“Oh, so only (Y/N) can call you that? Over.”

“Yes.” Both (Y/N) and Jack replied, and they looked at each other in surprise; embarrassed, (Y/N) hastily cleared her throat and quietly hissed, “Don’t you have something better to do than sit in a surveillance van with your butler, Howard?”

“Yeah, but Rosalyn Russell’s out of town this weekend. Over.”

Wrinkling her nose at the inventor’s crudeness, (Y/N) lowly replied, “Phase One’s come off without a hitch, we’ll let you know when something comes up. And quit with the radio jargon, okay?” Glancing over at Jack beside her, she furrowed her brow in confusion as she watched him repeatedly adjust his glasses. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never worn specs before; I guess they take a little getting used to, huh?” They managed to extricate themselves from the dense crowd surrounding the dance floor and immediately claimed a small table in the corner that overlooked a fair amount of the nightclub; to keep up appearances, Jack helped her into her seat before moving to occupy the chair across from her. As he opened his drink menu and pretended to peruse it, he quietly murmured, “All right, Specs, what do you see?”

The first thing Jack had taught her about going undercover was to simply observe; every detail could be important, so it was crucial that an agent absorb as much as possible without attracting notice. With a serene smile on her face, (Y/N) reached into her clutch and withdrew her compact mirror. She opened it and as she fussed over her chignon, she took the opportunity to scan the room behind her. “Um…the waiters are all wearing white dinner jackets and gloves, to distinguish themselves from the patrons. The steps behind me lead down a hallway and it looks like that’s where the restrooms are. There’s also a guy hanging out alone by the steps and smoking a cigarette; he looks tense.” Giving her reflection an approving nod, she snapped it closed and stowed it away, taking the opportunity to glance in the direction of the dance floor. “The kitchens are behind those batwing doors, so I count at least two entry and exit points.”

“Good.” Jack glanced up and inclined his head to her, his concentration quickly shifting into an easy-going demeanor as a waiter approached the table. “Two rum and cokes, on the rocks.” The grin on his face didn’t fade when the waiter turned his back, but out of the corner of his mouth he mumbled, “And the people?”

“No one stands out except for that guy by the steps.” (Y/N) concluded after giving the dance floor another long glance. “They’re not here yet.” The waiter reappeared with their drinks, and (Y/N) put on a flirtatious smile as she batted her eyes at him. “Thanks, sugar!” The waiter flushed red and quickly set the drinks down before scurrying away. “Jumpy sort of fella. Did I scare him or something?”

Jack cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Um, the opposite, I think. I doubt the little pipsqueak’s used to having a beautiful gal flirt with him like that.” He turned his attention to the dance floor, but not before (Y/N) caught sight of his flushed face. Jack Thompson just called me beautiful, she thought to herself, feeling stunned yet flattered as she attempted not to stare in his direction. “Jarvis, what’s the view from outside?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. I believe Miss (Y/L/N)’s earlier speculation was correct; your seller has not arrived just yet.”

“Your buyer’s here, though. My source said he drives a white ‘47 Bentley Mark VI, and there’s one parked right down the block from us.” (Y/N) could faintly make out Howard’s snort of derision. “Tacky. He’s probably busy drinkin’ or chattin’ up dames while he waits for the seller. That other guy, though, sounds like he’s his bodyguard; from what I hear the buyer’s a crime boss, so it makes sense he’d have some backup with him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Jack took a swig of his drink and glanced around the room with a frown on his face. “We’re drawing too much attention over here.” Sure enough, when (Y/N) looked up from her drink she caught sight of a handful of men and women curiously eyeing them up; glancing around, she quickly realized that they were now the only couple seated at the tables.

Over the communication radio, Edwin cleared his throat. “To better blend in, perhaps you and Miss (Y/L/N) should dance. You’ll also be better equipped to, as they say, ‘scope out the area.’”

Without missing a beat, (Y/N) grabbed her clutch and held out her free hand to Jack. Since they were still being watched by the nearby patrons, she knew that she’d have to fully lean into her undercover persona as a ditzy smile formed on her lips. “C’mon, Johnny, I love this song and you promised me we’d dance tonight!”

“Sure thing, doll face.” After standing and grabbing her hand, he hauled her up and led her to the edge of the dance floor while the other patrons finally stopped watching them. “Nice one back there, Specs. You ever notice that rich people are too nosy for their own good?” They both stifled their chuckles as they listened to Howard’s indignant grumble and Edwin’s hum of agreement through their communication radios.

It wasn’t until (Y/N) was staring up into Jack’s blue eyes that she realized they were dancing together to the band’s slow playing. She was instantly aware of just how close they were to one another and how she could feel the warmth of his hand on her waist through the silk rouching of her gown; feeling her face beginning to warm, she tore her gaze away from her partner and let out a nervous laugh as she watched the other couples. “You know, this is the first time I’ve danced since the war.”

“Really?” The surprise in Jack’s voice drew her gaze back to him; his brow was raised, and she could see that he was genuinely interested in her offhand comment. “Any particular reason why?”

“War sticks with some people longer than others, I guess.” (Y/N) looked back to him and shrugged noncommittally. “After everything that I’d seen and gone through in Europe, with both the OSS and the SSR, the thought of immediately going out and celebrating felt…wrong. Disingenuous, even. Everyone was so damn quick to move on and forget about those years – and I definitely understand why – but whenever I tried, I just…”

“Couldn’t.” Jack finished her sentence and she gave him a small nod. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” His eyes had filled with an unusual emotion but before (Y/N) could identify it, he began scanning the room with a neutral smile on his face. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Specs, your dancing’s pretty decent for someone who’s out of practice.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile playfully up at him. “You’re not very good at giving out compliments that don’t come across as insults, are you, Flyboy?”

As per usual, Jack rolled his eyes at her teasing. “You know what I mean.” The slow song came to an end and the band swiftly started up a fast-paced number; that made her partner raise a challenging brow at her and never one to bow out of a competition, (Y/N)’s smile widened as she allowed Jack to promptly whisk her into a foxtrot. In all the time she’d known Jack, she’d never seen him looking so…happy. The mask of seriousness he always wore around others had relaxed into a cheerful grin, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but think about how well it suited her partner as she beamed up at him. As they continued to dance, she suddenly realized that her earlier nervousness about going undercover had very quickly morphed into fear that Jack would somehow hear how quickly her heart beat in her chest every time their eyes met. But too soon, their perfect moment was shattered by reality.

“A suspicious-looking man just entered the nightclub, and I believe it may be your seller.”

Without missing a step, Jack quickly turned his attention from her to the stairs leading to the hallway. “Yep, the bodyguard’s gone, probably to go and get the buyer. Time for Phase Two.”

Phase Two of their evening involved locating where the business transaction would take place within the nightclub and quickly planting listening devices within them before the meeting began. Based on blueprints Officer Zhang had obtained and Howard’s own descriptions of the building, there were only two possible meeting locations; Jack was responsible for bugging the back room in the kitchens while (Y/N) would take care of the private office near the restrooms. Since the bugs had a limited battery charge, they could only plant them in their perspective locations right before the meeting began so they could be sure to record the entire exchange. Once they finished, the plan was for Howard and Jarvis to leave in the surveillance truck while Jack and (Y/N) would leave together in one of the inventor’s numerous cars; they would then send Officer Zhang into the club the next morning to retrieve the devices under the ruse of a routine fire safety inspection.

As the song came to an end, she and Jack joined the small crowd of people making their way off the dance floor; many of them headed off in the direction of the bar and tables while the rest of them walked up the steps and down the hallway to the restrooms. They blended into the small crowd well and once they reached the hallway, they slowed their steps and allowed the others to walk in front of them. the hallway branched off into two different directions, but the crowd of people all turned down the right-hand hallway. After announcing he’d go order another round of drinks while she powdered her nose in the restroom, Jack gave (Y/N) a barely discernible nod before turning and disappearing into the fray.

“Chin up, shoulders relaxed.” (Y/N) quietly repeated her own partner’s advice to herself, plastering a pleasant smile on her face and strolling casually down the hallway; in an effort to quell the tell-tale tremble of her hands, she tightened her hold on her clutch. “Where do you want the device placed, again?”

“Doesn’t matter, so long as there’s no audio interference; if you can, try placin’ it away from any doors or vents. And be very careful, those are delicate pieces of technology.”

“Copy that.” Glancing around her surroundings and confirming she was indeed alone, (Y/N) turned and swiftly made her way down the left-hand hallway, silently praying that the unsettling feeling in her stomach was due to nerves and not an omen of things to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Following Howard’s hurried instructions, (Y/N) pressed a sequence of buttons on the listening device and fastened it to the underside of the large desk in the center of the room. “All right, the little green light is on.”

“Good, that means the device is on and recording. Since our work here’s done, we’re gonna turn off the communication devices and head back to the mansion; Thompson just finished plantin’ his bug and he’s gonna meet up with you out in the hall, okay?”

“Got it.” Once she stood up, (Y/N) took a brief moment to smooth out the skirt of her gown and fix her hair; as she did, a feeling of calm washed over her and she didn’t bother fighting the triumphant smile that formed on her lips, marveling at how easy her first undercover mission had been. It helps to have a talented teacher, of course, she thought a little shyly, picturing Jack’s cheerful grin as they danced together for the first time.

Suddenly aware that her thoughts had wandered to how appealing his lips looked whenever he grinned, (Y/N) gave her head a small shake, muttering a quick “Get ahold of yourself” under her breath as she snatched up her clutch and crossed the room to the door. Before she could reach the door, though, there was the unmistakable sound of rapidly approaching footsteps out in the hall that only grew louder by the second; acting on instinct, (Y/N) yanked up the silk skirt of her gown and reached for the holstered gun in her garter. The gun was nearly in her hand as the door swung open to reveal a panting and disheveled Jack Thompson.

“Jack, what the-?”

Without hesitation, Jack slammed the door closed behind him and looked wildly around the room; his eyes quickly fell on the wardrobe in the corner and with a determined look on his face, he grabbed her hand, yanked her along to the wardrobe and hastily pulled her into it before swinging the door closed and plunging them into semi-darkness. Just as she opened her mouth in protest, he clamped a hand over it and whispered harshly, “I just got made by the security guy and he’s right on my-”

Through the wardrobe’s wooden door, (Y/N) heard the office door open with a resounding bang, instantly silencing Jack and causing him to slowly pull her farther into the wardrobe. Heavy footsteps moved throughout the room, presumably because the security guard was searching every possible hiding spot for Jack; any minute now he’s going to open that door and find us, she thought to herself as her forehead beaded with sweat, getting out of this pickle’s going to be harder than putting lipstick on a pig…

The lipstick! In that instant, she formulated a plan that would ensure that their undercover mission wouldn’t be compromised; saying a silent prayer that her partner would understand her coded message, (Y/N) raised a hand to the one that was still clamped over her mouth and used her forefinger to hastily tap against it in Morse Code.

“I’ve got a plan.”

She could feel Jack stiffen behind her and after an agonizing moment, he rested his free hand on her shoulder and tapped out a choppy reply on her bare skin. “Little rusty. Plan?”

Confident that he could understand her messages, (Y/N) began tapping out a long reply as the security guard’s footsteps grew closer and closer to their hiding spot. Jack quickly followed her silent instructions, dropping the hand from over her mouth and moving farther behind the coats and garments as (Y/N) tiptoed to the very front of the wardrobe and positioned herself so that her skirt would hide her partner’s legs from sight; she withdrew her lipstick tube from her clutch and swiped a fresh coat over her lips, tucking the tube away just as the security guard’s footsteps stopped in front of the wardrobe.

The things I do for Peggy Carter, (Y/N) quietly bemoaned; the wardrobe door swung open and quick as a flash, she surged forward and pressed her lips against the security guard’s, forcing herself to keep their lips locked together for several moments, then allowed Jack to wrap his arms around her waist and wrench her further into the wardrobe, quickly turning and positioning himself around her so that she was completely hidden from view. They held their breaths and listened intently as the security guard came to his senses, muttering confusedly for several moments before closing the wardrobe’s door and stomping out of the office. (Y/N)’s entire body remained frozen against Jack’s, her mind hardly believing that their off-the-cuff plan had actually worked. A tension-filled moment later, she felt Jack’s forefinger gently tapping against her shoulder.

“Guard’s gone.”

“Oh, thank God.” (Y/N) spoke quietly, her body relaxing as she let out a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe that worked!”

In the semi-darkness, she could make out her partner’s growing grin. “Yeah, that was genius, Specs…where the hell did you get that lipstick, though? The OSS?”

“Nope, Howard Stark.”

Jack let out a snort of amusement. “Should’ve known; Peggy’s got one just like it, only hers can put a fella to sleep. Well, remind me to thank Stark for that if we get out of this alive.”

“Duly noted. Do you think it’s safe to…?” When (Y/N) finally met Jack’s gaze, the proud gleam in his blue eyes caused her to forget what she was going to say; she was fairly certain that he’d never looked at her that way before and judging by how hard her heart was hammering in her chest, she certainly liked it. Since his arms were still wound securely around her waist, she could feel his larger hands flexing a little as they pressed against her back and it was suddenly quite warm inside the cramped wardrobe. “I-”

The sound of the office door opening instantly silenced (Y/N)’s next words, and both her and Jack’s attention was instantly drawn to the multiple voices entering the room.

“…must be losin’ his touch. If he keeps it up, I’ll have to start lookin’ for a new bodyguard.”

“It seems we both have had troubles with the help lately. One of my hitmen is missing in action, no doubt lying dead in an alleyway somewhere. Addicted to substances, you see…”

“Well, Mr. Attwell, here’s hopin’ our luck improves.” As the first man poured himself a drink, (Y/N) and Jack exchanged a brief glance, not needing Morse Code to communicate their mutual surprise. Thomas Attwell, one of the main members of Michael Carter’s supposed operation and the one who they suspected kept their underlings in line, was the one selling the batch of illegally-manufactured weapons. Even without the reference to the opiate-addicted hitman Peter Hanson, who they’d recently helped leave the country, (Y/N) recognized his voice from when she’d briefly overheard him during her infiltration of Fieldman Family Orangery. “Care for a drink?”

“Perhaps later, when our transaction is complete. My associate should be-ah, here he is!” Thomas exclaimed as the office door opened once again. “Is everything in order?”

“Yes, the delivery truck’s just arrived and the guards are in place.” The new man closed the door and stepped further into the room before continuing. “Apologies for my tardiness, Mr. Stompanato. We haven’t been properly introduced, my name is Michael Carter.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

The Palladium, Los Angeles

As a direct result of everything he’d seen and experienced during his twenty-eight years of life, Jack Thompson was rarely one to be taken by surprise; he’d fought in one of the largest wars the world had ever seen, witnessed some of the greatest and deadliest technological advancements of his generation and even learned of the existence of multiple dimensions within their universe. But he had to admit, almost everything about that Friday evening had blown his socks off and he wasn’t too sure how much more he could take.

The first surprise of the day came from his afternoon telephone call from the New York branch of the SSR; ever since the Zero Matter situation back in July, Jack’s second-in-command Agent Cabrera had taken over as Acting Chief in his absence. It was meant to be a temporary assignment but it was unexpectedly extended when Jack was shot and the SSR opened their investigation into it. Cabrera was a competent agent and the New York branch had continued to run smoothly in Jack’s absence but during his weekly check-in telephone call, Agent Cabrera warned him that some of the higher-ups in D.C. were growing impatient with his ‘extended vacation’ and that they were considering forcing Sousa to close his case and send Jack back to New York if no evidence turned up by the end of the month. Although Jack had expected his case to eventually be closed he hadn’t counted on the deadline being so soon, so there was even more riding on the outcome of their undercover mission than he originally thought.

The second surprise occurred when he and (Y/N) were preparing to leave for The Palladium; Stark had been busy showing Jack the various special features of his tan ’47 Buick Super, the car they’d be using to fit in with the glitz and glamor of the nightclub. Just when Jack was rolling his eyes at Stark’s ‘sock on the doorknob’ feature, he caught sight of (Y/N) as she entered the car lot and his jaw nearly hit the floor; she was dressed in an elegant pink gown that flattered her figure and showed off way more of her body than he’d ever seen before, and although she was glancing away from him, he could still see the dazzling smile that illuminated her face. He hastily turned his attention back to Stark’s rambling when she started looking their way lest she see his dumbfounded expression, but his heart continued to hammer in his chest. Ever since their contentious first meeting at the SSR, Jack had secretly maintained that (Y/N) was an attractive woman but seeing her dressed like she’d just walked off the Silver Screen was a very jarring reminder of his steadily-growing romantic feelings for his partner.

And if not for their current and very serious predicament, Jack would immediately label the third surprise of the night as the most eye-opening of them all; (Y/N), who was a far better undercover agent than she ever thought she’d be, suggested they take to the dance floor to better blend into the crowd. As they danced, she admitted that she’d been hiding herself away from the world she’d spent years fighting for and in that instant, Jack was hit with the stark realization that he’d been doing the exact same thing. Sure, he’d go out drinking and would occasionally take a woman out on the town but outside of his co-workers, he truly didn’t have any friends and for the past couple of years, he hadn’t exactly been close with his family. Work was all he’d had since the end of the war, and it was clear to see why that was: he’d always hear other soldiers say that war medals can way a man down, but what about medals earned through dishonesty and cowardice?

But Jack didn’t have very much time for an existential crisis, since he was quickly spotted exiting the kitchens by the security guard, and it was just his luck that the man seemed to know exactly who he was and instantly gave chase. In that moment, Jack’s only real plan was to grab (Y/N) and get the hell out of there but thanks to him, they were trapped in a wardrobe not ten feet away from one crime boss and two suspected Hydra-turned-Secret-Empire agents. The chances of them getting out of The Palladium alive weren’t too great; their back-up had already left and all they had on them were two six-shooters, a tube of forgetfulness lipstick and their brains. Fingers crossed that that’s all we’ll need, Jack thought to himself, tearing his gaze away from the wardrobe door to look down at (Y/N)’s horrorstruck face.

As the men continued their pleasantries, Jack tapped a quick Morse Code message out against the bare skin of her arm before releasing his hold on her, albeit with some slight reluctance. Moving as quietly as he could, Jack crept forward and took a knee at the front of the wardrobe to peek through the large key-hole. Sure enough, he was able to see the three men and a significant portion of the office; the man who had taken a seat behind the large desk Jack recognized as Martin ‘Lefty’ Stompanato, a small-time crime boss from Queens. When Jack first started at the SSR, Chief Dooley brought Stompanato and a handful of his crew in for questioning in regards to a suspected mob hit on one of their scientists but they were quickly released due to a lack of evidence. I’ll bet he moved his operation out here not long after, Jack thought to himself as his gaze moved to the next man, so that’s why his bodyguard recognized me. Thanks to all the photographs he’d seen of the British man in the files he’d spent hours poring over, Jack could recognize the arrogant smirk of Thomas Attwell a mile away. Seriously, who’s teeth are that white, he wondered, rolling his eyes before glancing at the third man in the room; he was facing away from him, having already taken a seat in the chair opposite Stompanato, so Jack couldn’t verify just yet if he really was Michael Carter.

“So, word on the street is that your doo-hickey can work miracles.”

Thomas chuckled from his spot against the wall, leaning forward and smiling good-naturedly at the crime boss. “That may be a slight exaggeration, Mr. Stompanato, but the sentiment is greatly appreciated. Would you care for a small demonstration before agreeing to our terms?”

“No, no, I’m good. I promised the club owner I’d leave the place spotless and it’ll be rude of me to go back on that.” Stompanato smirked to himself. “’Sides, I already got a pretty good idea of what it can do; that bank job a few months back was in all the papers, you know. I bet you fellas got a lotta good publicity for your little operation ‘cause of it, huh?”

“Certainly, Mr. Stompanato, though I wouldn’t consider all of it ‘good.’” The third man replied. Although his tone was friendly and conversational, Jack could detect a hint of frustration in his words. “The men we hired were careless, they allowed one of the devices to be fall into the hands of the SSR and risked the premature exposure of our organization; rest assured, though, they’ve been properly taken care of and measures have been put in place to prevent any further blunders.”

Jack watched as Stompanato squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the third man’s underlying threat and the dark direction their conversation had taken. “Yeah, o-of course. I’ve already had a run-in with the SSR back in New York, ya know, when that son of a bitch Agent Thompson roughed me up and broke my nose…” Jack smirked a little at the memory. “…so you can count on lots of, ah, discretion from us.”

The third man nodded. “Good. Now, as for the terms of the arrangement…”

As all three men discussed the details of their business transaction, Jack felt (Y/N) slowly lower herself to the ground beside him and when she made a gesture towards the keyhole, he scooted over so they could both see out of it.

“…all very straightforward, Mr. Stompanato. Fifty thousand dollars in gold to start with, then a seventy percent cut of each of your criminal ventures for one year and in return, your organization will fall into the protection of the expanding Secret Empire and you’ll be free to keep the devices. All we ask for is your unwavering loyalty, and that you refrain from carelessly abusing our arrangement.”

Thomas nodded in agreement, a smirk beginning to form on his face. “If that happens, then…well, I’m sure you can use your imagination. So, shall we all shake on it?”

Just as Stompanato began reaching over the desk to shake Thomas’ outstretched hand, the office door burst open and the bodyguard from earlier rushed in. “Boss, we’ve got a situation, the fellas caught wind that a couple of feds are here to bust you!”

“Oh, Mr. Stompanato. You thought you could set us up?” Stompanato’s eyes widened and as he began hastily proclaiming his innocence, the third man drew his handgun and shot the crime boss directly in the heart. Jack’s eyes widened and (Y/N) quickly covered her mouth to muffle her horrified gasp, both watching as Stompanato’s body slumped over in the desk chair and was still.

With a brief glance at his shocked partner, Jack leaned closer to the keyhole and observed as the third man stood and turned, nearly gasping himself when he recognized the familiar face of Michael Carter. Familiar, not only because he’d poured over the man’s file more times than he could count, but because Jack only knew of only one other person on Earth that had the same hardened steel in their gaze. As he watched, though, Michael’s expression faltered and twisted in pain but a split-second later and to Jack’s utter confusion, it shifted back to a mask of cold indifference as the sound of the gunshot faded away.

Michael smiled at the bodyguard, who was now pointing his gun at an unbothered Thomas Attwell. “Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted. I trust you overheard our business transaction from out in the hall?” The bodyguard shakily nodded but remained silent. “Splendid. You look like a smart man, so I trust that you’ll make an intelligent decision regarding your future within the next few moments.” The bodyguard glanced at both men and Stompanato’s lifeless body before lowering his gun and hastily shaking Michael’s hand.

“Now that that’s been settled, shall we?” Thomas gestured to the door and as the three men headed towards it added, “Our truck is already parked in the loading dock but we must hurry…”

The men’s voices faded as they exited the office and almost the moment the door closed behind them, Jack and (Y/N) were on their feet and bounding out of the wardrobe. “C’mon, we’ve gotta hurry before they get away-”

“Wait!” Jack whirled around in time to see (Y/N) retrieve the listening device she’d planted underneath the desk and shove it into her clutch. “Okay, let’s go!” They dashed out of the office and hurried down the hallway, skidding to a stop once they reached the small landing that led into the main room. “Do you see them anywhere?”

Jack scanned the lively crowd and quickly managed to spot the three men across the room. “They’re headed towards the kitchens, c’mon!” He shouted over the noise, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand before pulling her down the stairs and into the fray. In that moment, while they ducked and weaved around others, Jack was thankful that he happened to be a tall guy and could easily keep the men in sight; as he’d predicted, the three men made a bee-line for the kitchens and soon disappeared behind the batwing doors.

“Hey, watch where you’re goin’, jackass!”

“People can be so rude, honestly…”

“Geez, where’s the fire?”

They finally emerged from the crowd, leaving a trail of complaints in their wake, and burst through the batwing doors. If Jack hadn’t been so concerned with trying to get the men back in his sights, he would’ve seen the figure lunging towards him with a kitchen knife raised high above his head; thankfully, though, (Y/N)’s shout of warning gave him just enough time to dodge the man’s attack and land a punch in his stomach, causing him to double-over before Jack knocked him out with a hard hit to the jaw. Jack looked over at (Y/N) just in time to see her finish off a second attacker, hitting him across the head with a frying pan and watching as the man dropped to the floor.

“I’d bet anything these two are – well, were – Stompanato’s men.” Catching her breath, (Y/N) chucked the frying pan aside. “Come on, Flyboy, they’re getting away!”

Jack gave his head a small shake before following her through the kitchens, still a little shocked and – though he tried not to think about it too much – attracted to the sight of the wisecracking codebreaker beating up a man twice her size with only a kitchen frying pan. Focus up, Thompson, he scolded himself as he hurried after her; when they reached the double doors at the back of the kitchens, Jack drew his gun and motioned for (Y/N), who already had hers at the ready, to open one of the doors. With a brief nod, (Y/N) flung it open and Jack darted in just as a large delivery truck was turning the corner of the alley.

Before he could say or do anything, something solid hit him in the back and sent him staggering forward on the loading dock. He quickly turned to face his attacker, only to be hit in the stomach with a crowbar; his gun slipped out of his grasp and was kicked aside while he doubled over in pain. As his attacker, another white-jacketed man, raised the crowbar for a third time, Jack grabbed a loose wooden plank from the ground and used it to block the man’s strike. The force of the hit sent him stumbling backwards into the brick wall behind him and just as his attacker began pressing the crowbar into his neck, Jack yanked the wooden plank down and used it to throw the crowbar off of him before smashing it against his attacker’s face and kicking him to the ground.

“They’re gone,” (Y/N), who was now sporting a bloody nose and a blossoming bruise on her left shoulder, hurried over to him and helped him to straighten up. “And the communication device, well…” She showed him her clutch and by the looks of it, it had been thoroughly trampled on.

“Son of a bitch. We-”

“Hands up you two!” Jack’s head snapped up and he instantly spotted two men at the double doors aiming their guns at them; without thinking much of it, he stepped forward so that he was standing partially in between them and (Y/N). “I said, hands up!” With a glance back at his partner, Jack slowly did as they asked. “Okay, boss, we’ve got ‘em!”

The two men stepped forward to allow a third man to enter; he was on the shorter side, with neatly styled hair and an impeccably clean suit, and his stern expression was quickly overtaken by one of smug recognition. “Chief Thompson of the SSR. What an unexpected surprise!”

“Director Roberts of the good ol’ FBI. I can’t say that it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Despite the easy-going smirk on his face, Jack’s heart had dropped in his chest; not only was Director John Roberts a high-ranking officer in the FBI, but he was once a close friend of none other than Vernon Masters. Double the reason to hold a grudge against me, he thought to himself before continuing. “Look, Roberts, I think there’s been some sort of mistake here-”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Roberts motioned for one of the men, who holstered his gun and pulled out a set of handcuffs. “You and your dame here are under arrest on suspicion of illegal weapons distribution and murder.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Southern California Division, Los Angeles

“Well, Flyboy, you’ve been in Los Angeles for just about four months and it seems you’ve already pissed off a majority of its population.” (Y/N) joked weakly as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself to generate more warmth. “That takes some serious skill.”

Jack, who had been absentmindedly pacing back and forth in their holding cell, smiled a little to himself as he walked. “Yeah, I guess you could call it my superpower.” His amusement was fleeting, though; he sighed and ran a hand through his mussed hair. “Now that we’ve got our story straight for the FBI, we’re gonna have to come clean to Carter and Sousa ‘cause if those fathead FBI agents haven’t already called the SSR, then they will soon.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Looking down at her lap, (Y/N) carefully studied the wrinkled fabric of her evening gown and continued to rub her hands along her arms. “You know, when we first started our investigation I knew that this day would eventually be coming. But now that we’re finally here…? All the time in the world couldn’t have prepared me for how awful I’d feel.”

“If it helps any, I’ll probably be the one Peggy’ll be the angriest with; this whole thing was my idea, after all.” She didn’t answer or even glance up at him. Several moments later, she felt the weight of something being draped over her shoulders and she quickly realized that it was Jack’s tuxedo jacket.

“I’m fine, Flyboy, really-”

Once he finished adjusting the large jacket on her, he pulled away with a skeptical brow raised. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Specs, and Jarvis’ll have my hide if I let you catch a cold.” With a small smile, he sat down on the cool metal bench beside her. “’Sides, I seem to recall someone saying that it wasn’t against any SSR policy to ask for a little help once in a while.”

“Ah, so I managed to impart a bit of wisdom onto you after all!” (Y/N) retorted with a teasing grin of her own as Jack chuckled. “So, you want to tell me how you pissed off the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation?”

The federal agents seemed to not be in a hurry to proceed with their case against them, as evident when Jack was able to explain in great detail the whole Zero Matter situation to her. When she first started working at the West Coast SSR, (Y/N) had heard a few vague details about the case; it was enough to understand a little of what occurred but not nearly enough to satisfy her curious nature. She’d been a little shocked to learn the truth about famous film actress Whitney Frost; Tales of Suspense had been her favorite film of 1946, so it was surprising to learn that not only was the lead actress a brilliant inventor named Agnes Cully but that (Y/N) shared more than a handful of similarities with her. They’d both grown up with less than ideal home lives, both worked incredibly hard in their respective fields only to be marginalized and underappreciated at every turn, and they’d both done despicable things despite their initial good intentions. She didn’t have too much time to think it over, though; right as Jack was explaining how they managed to close the Rift they’d opened in Howard’s studio backlot, two agents appeared from down the hall and opened their cell door.

“Interrogation time already, boys? Damn, the FBI’s more efficient than I gave ‘em credit for…”

One agent shoved Jack forward as they ushered them down the hallway. “You two are bein’ released into the custody of the SSR, wise-ass. It’s a real shame, too; the boys in the office had a bet goin’ for how quick a tough Navy Cross winner like you’d crack under the boss.” Beside (Y/N), Jack clenched his jaw but remained silent as the agent turned his attention to her. “So, what do they call a pretty little dame like you?”

(Y/N) gave the smug man a sharp look. “Agent.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jack quickly mask his amused chuckle behind a cough. The man’s grin fell and they walked the rest of the way in silence; they soon found themselves back in the lobby of the building, where Chief Sousa was in deep conversation with the man Jack had called Director Roberts. She felt a pang of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, but she ignored it as the chief turned towards them with a stern expression on his face.

“Hey there, Danny Boy.”

Ignoring Jack’s greeting, Daniel turned to (Y/N) with a brow raised in expectation. “Director Roberts here already filled me in on the situation at The Palladium, but I think I’d rather hear it from one of my own agents…”

“Of course. Chief Thompson and I were at The Palladium in a strictly civilian capacity, Chief Sousa. You see, I lost a bet with him the other week about the outcome of the World Series…” Roberts crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled something under his breath, still disbelieving of their story; Daniel only nodded for her to continue. “Anyways, we noticed a couple of men we knew weren’t waiters entering the kitchens; the waiters at The Palladium all wear white dinner jackets and gloves to set themselves apart from the patrons, and the men we saw were all wearing dark suits. So, we decided to follow them and that’s when we got into an altercation.”

“And then Larry, Curly and Mo arrested us and let the actual bad guys get away.” Jack interjected, shooting Director Roberts a dark glower. “Ain’t that right, Mo?”

Roberts started forward but Daniel quickly halted him with his crutch. “Cool it, Roberts.” The chief turned back to (Y/N) and took in her appearance, his concerned gaze lingering on her multitude of bruises and cuts. “And are those injuries from the goons who attacked you, or did an agent rough the both of you up while in custody?”

“They were like that when we arrested them and even if they weren’t, Sousa, you could hardly blame any of my agents for taking a swing at ‘em! The FBI’s been working to take down Martin Stompanato and his entire operation for well over a year and thanks to these two idiots, all that time and effort was for nothing!” Roberts shouted angrily. “The SSR’s full of so many incompetent nutcases, it’s no wonder Vernon Masters got killed on your guys’ watch!”

Looking far more furious than she’d ever seen him look before, Daniel drew himself up to his full height and fired back, “You wanna talk incompetence, Roberts? You set up an ambush at a popular nightclub smack-dab in the middle of Hollywood and failed to inform a single law enforcement agency about it.” Roberts blinked in surprise. “I don’t know what they teach you boys here at the FBI but at the SSR, that’s the very first thing we do when conducting a large-scale operation; had my office been properly notified, I would’ve ordered my agents to steer clear of that club tonight but instead, you broke procedure and put my people in danger. And for your information, Vernon Masters got himself killed when he sided with Whitney Frost and the Council of Nine over his own damn country.” Giving the shorter man one final glare, Daniel took a step back and gestured to (Y/N) and Jack. “We’re gonna leave now, Director Roberts, and if I catch wind of you harassing any of my people again I’ll be sure to drop a line to your bosses back in D.C.; I’m sure they’d love to hear about how one of their top men screwed up his own operation.”

Following closely behind Daniel as he marched out of the building and in the direction of his car, (Y/N) couldn’t help but silently marvel at his leadership skills. It’s no wonder he was promoted and given the difficult task of managing the West Coast SSR, she thought to herself. But her feeling of dread quickly returned once she and Jack got into the backseat of the car, and she knew that the most challenging part of the evening had yet to begin.

The inside of the car was dead-silent for several long moments, and it wasn’t until they’d made it a block past the FBI office that Daniel spoke. “Okay, now’s when the two of you are gonna tell me what you were really doing at that club tonight and why two SSR Chiefs and a codebreaker just lied their asses off to the FBI.”

“Sure, but we’d better swing by Carter’s place and wake her up ‘cause this involves her too.” In the rearview mirror, (Y/N) watched as Daniel’s brow furrowed in confusion at Jack’s request; with a half-glance at (Y/N), Jack looked out of the window beside him with his mouth set in a firm line. “It’s about to be one helluva long night…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After picking up an understandably annoyed Peggy Carter and driving to Auerbach Theatrical Agency, Daniel led the three of them into the deserted bullpen and leaned against one of the desks with an expectant look on his face. “Okay, spit it out, you two.”

“Yes, please explain why I’ve been dragged out of bed after returning from a forty-eight hour long stake-out in Santa Barbara.” Peggy grumbled, stifling a yawn behind her hand as she sat down in the chair beside him.

Jack glanced over at (Y/N) and when she gave him an encouraging nod, he returned his focus to Peggy and Daniel as he spoke. “Ever since I got out of the hospital, I’ve been conducting my own investigation into who shot me and why.” Daniel’s brow rose in surprise but Peggy only nodded, as if her suspicions had somehow been confirmed. “Well, I figured out the ‘why’ pretty quickly; my shooter stole the file on ‘M. Carter’ to keep me from looking into it, but they didn’t realize I’d had a copy made and stashed it here before getting ready to leave L.A..”

“I already told you, Jack, that file’s a fake. It was planted by Vernon Masters in order to discredit me, don’t you remember?”

“The file’s not about you, that’s for sure, but it’s definitely not a fake. Anyways, while I was going over the file to figure out why someone would wanna steal it I realized someone had written codes on it. I got into contact with every codebreaker I knew but they couldn’t figure ‘em out, so that’s when I showed them to (Y/L/N) here.”

(Y/N) nodded and stepped forward. “At first, I didn’t want to have anything to do with him or his investigation but when I saw that the file was about an ‘M. Carter,’ I…” Wringing her hands, she nervously bit her lip and glanced down before continuing, “Peggy, you and I both know that you weren’t the only ‘M. Carter’ working for the SOE during the war.”

The bullpen was dead silent; (Y/N) was holding her breath as she looked back up at Peggy, whose expression had become a mask of defiance. “My brother died on the front in 1940. That file details war crimes that were committed in June of 1944, four years after his death.” Beside her, Daniel rested a comforting hand on hers but Peggy’s hardened eyes never left (Y/N)’s. “Even if he wasn’t dead, there’s absolutely no way that it’s about my brother; he was a war hero, not capable of the horrific things detailed in that file.”

“That’s what we thought at first but when (Y/L/N) cracked the first code in the file…”

Having sensed that Peggy’s patience was dwindling fast, they launched into a detailed explanation of their over two-month secret investigation, starting with Aaron Templeton and concluding with what really transpired that evening at The Palladium; they told them about their disastrous infiltration of Fieldman Family Orangery, the second attempt on Jack’s life and their realization that the Secret Empire was still in operation. Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) carefully watched her friend’s reactions to their information; Peggy hid her emotions well, the mark of a highly-skilled spy, but when they explained that Howard Stark, the Jarvises and an L.A.P.D. rookie officer had all been briefed on their case, (Y/N) saw her visibly flinch as if she’d been struck.

When they finished, (Y/N) and Jack silently stood and waited for the others to react to their lengthy story. Daniel was frowning and obviously troubled by their words but when his gaze met (Y/N)’s, she could see understanding within his brown eyes; unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Peggy. Her longtime friend was still staring down at the ground and when she finally spoke, the hard edge of her words caused (Y/N)’s guilt to grow. “For two months, you both not only suspected that my brother was alive and operating as some sort of enemy agent but you chose to keep it from me.”

“Carter, we wanted to wait ‘till we had some concrete proof-”

(Y/N) placed a silencing hand on Jack’s forearm. “Back at Bletchley I saw first-hand how hurt you’d been after losing Michael, Peg, and I didn’t want you to go through all that again if we turned out to be wrong. I…we were only trying to do the right thing.”

Peggy let out a humorless chuckle before looking up to face her, her eyes rimmed with red and her mouth set in a firm line. “The woman I met at Bletchley wouldn’t have lied to me…but I suppose war really does change people.” She leapt out of her seat and stormed out of the bullpen, ignoring Daniel’s attempts to call her back. (Y/N) immediately followed after her, not catching up to the younger woman until they were both out in the hallway.

“Peggy! Peggy, would you please just listen to me?!” Her hand darted out and grabbed Peggy’s wrist, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “I was only trying to protect you because I knew this was how you’d react-”

“What gives you or anyone else the right to use my reactions to your lies as a reason for your lies?!” Peggy demanded, her eyes now filling with tears. “And don’t you dare stand there and claim you were trying to protect me, (Y/N), not when we both know that the only person you were protecting was yourself.”

(Y/N) stiffened, and she could almost feel a chill go down her spine as she asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that just because you’ve done a shoddy job coping with the losses in your life doesn’t mean the rest of us have too!” Wrenching her arm out of (Y/N)’s grasp, Peggy quickly turned and continued down the hallway, leaving (Y/N) frozen and numb with shock.

The sounds of approaching footsteps filled the hallway and (Y/N) didn’t bother turning around to see who they belonged to; she was far too busy replaying the words Peggy had known would cut her the deepest. “Where’d Peggy go? Is she okay?”

She pointed down the hallway, not trusting the strength of her voice, and she remained silent as Daniel hurriedly limped away after his girlfriend; she didn’t register the familiar presence beside her until he murmured, “(Y/N)?” When she didn’t answer, Jack moved to stand before her, leaning down so that they were nearly eye-to-eye. “What’d she say to you, (Y/N)?”

The gentleness of his tone combined with the concern in his eyes almost made (Y/N) lose her composure, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to throw herself into her partner’s arms and sob; instead, she squared her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest before answering his question. “She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“But-”

Jack’s next question was interrupted as Daniel made his way back to where they stood, this time with Edwin Jarvis close behind; instantly registering the guilt-ridden expression on the butler’s face, (Y/N) assumed that he too had been on the receiving end of Peggy’s wrath. “Peggy went outside to get some air, and I just so happened to run into one of your co-conspirators on the way back in.”

“Mr. Stark grew concerned when Chief Thompson and Miss (Y/L/N) did not immediately return to the mansion, so he sent me back to The Palladium to see if everything was all right. I instantly knew something was wrong when I saw all the FBI agents and Mr. Stark’s leisure car still parked on the street; naturally, the first place I thought to go for help was here.” The butler’s expression morphed into concern when his eyes trailed over hers and Jack’s obvious signs of a fight. “What happened?”

As Jack launched into a brief explanation of the evening’s events, Daniel met (Y/N)’s gaze and made a subtle gesture to follow him, leading her several steps away before turning to face her. “Look, (Y/N), I understand why you did what you did…I’d have probably done the same if I were in your shoes. But give her a little time, okay? It was a pretty major thing you two hid from her, after all.” (Y/N) gave a curt nod but remained silent. Running a hand through his rumpled hair, Daniel sighed and met her gaze with weary eyes. “Maybe it’ll be easier on her if she sees all the evidence you’ve gathered. You two can bring everything to the SSR tomorrow and-”

“No can-do, Sousa.” Jack interrupted. “We’ve got reason to believe that the Secret Empire has a spy working here; that’s another reason we’ve been sneaking around behind your backs. ‘Sides, it’s not like we’ve got any hard evidence to show off; the only physical evidence we had was a bug planted in The Palladium but it was destroyed when Stompanato’s men attacked us.”

They stood there in dejected silence for several moments, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel another pang of guilt; her last-minute decision to deviate from their plan had cost them an important piece of evidence, evidence that could’ve helped Peggy come to terms with their discovery.

“Well, then, I guess there’s nothing else we can do here tonight.” Daniel sighed, running a weary hand through his rumpled black hair. “I’d better go find Peg, see how she’s doing. I’ll give you two a ring tomorrow so we can figure out how to work on this case.”

“Miss (Y/L/N), may I offer you a ride home? And you as well, Chief Thompson?”

Before either person could answer, Daniel replied, “I need to speak with Thompson alone, if you two don’t mind; I’ll make sure he gets home okay.” He turned to Jack, a hardened edge in his voice. “We’ll talk in my office.” The chief gave her and Edwin a nod and slowly made his way back to the bullpen, the sound of his crutch hitting the ground echoing through the hallway.

 “I guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting. I’ll give you a ring in the morning, Specs.” With a small sigh and a brief glance in (Y/N)’s direction, Jack followed Daniel back to his office; it didn’t take long for her to spot the tension in his shoulders as he disappeared around the corner.

When both men were out of sight, (Y/N) and Edwin turned and began to slowly make their way down the hallways; she didn’t know about the butler, but (Y/N) was quietly praying that they wouldn’t encounter Peggy on their way out of the building.

“Mr. Stark also instructed me to retrieve his necklace and earrings from you, as well as to inform you that the evening gown is a gift from him.” The corner of Edwin’s mouth curved into a small smile. “I believe Ana might have had something to do with that altruistic decision.”

“That was very kind of Ana; I’ll be sure to thank her the next time I see her.” They continued walking in silence; (Y/N) was so absorbed in her own thoughts that it took her several moments to register that the butler was no longer walking beside her. Glancing around in confusion, she quickly spotted him still standing at the base of the staircase, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Jarvis, is everything all right?”

Edwin only cocked his head to one side as she slowly approached him. “Miss (Y/L/N), you mentioned that the listening device you planted in the nightclub’s office was destroyed…but what about the listening device Chief Thompson was in charge of planting?”

“Howard told me that he planted it in the…” (Y/N)’s jaw dropped and she excitedly exclaimed, “That’s it! Thompson’s bug was planted near the kitchens, so there’s a chance it might’ve picked up Michael and that Attwell guy as they passed through!” She brushed past him and after yanking her skirt up, dashed up the staircase. “You’re a genius, Jarvis! I’ll be right back!”

“Just an avid fan of Agatha Christie…I’ll just go, ah, pull the car around…”

Hurrying back through the halls, (Y/N) skidded into the empty bullpen and was just about to call out Jack’s name when the raised voices coming out of Daniel’s office caught her attention. “…don’t really see where it’s any of your business, Sousa-”

“Well, it is my business, Jack, and based on some not-so-very distant memories, I know that you’ve got an angle you’re working; I just wanna hear you admit to it before one of us finds it out for ourselves.”

“Okay, okay! Look, it doesn’t take a genius to know that the SSR’s not gonna be around forever, Sousa, and I’d prefer not to be on board the sinking ship when it finally goes down. This case is gonna be my ticket into any federal agency I want, or maybe even somewhere in the political sector; the point is, I’m not planning on sticking with what I know is a lost cause.”

Although troubled by Jack’s words, (Y/N) continued listening as Daniel scoffed. “And here I thought you’d changed your charming power-hungry ways since the Zero Matter case. What about (Y/N)?”

There was a pause before Jack responded. “What about her? We’re just partners working on a case together; once it’s closed, I’ll be headed to D.C. and she’ll still be here cracking codes. You got a problem with that?”

(Y/N) couldn’t make out Daniel’s reply which was just as well, as she was struggling to register everything she’d just overheard. She still remembered the terms of their partnership, that once the case was closed they’d both go their separate ways and most likely never see one another again, but that didn’t stop her from feeling melancholy and…well, a little hurt. She’d foolishly allowed herself to grow attached to Jack Thompson during the course of their investigation, first as an unlikely friend and later as a full-on romantic interest. Hearing directly from him that he was not only using their investigation to selfishly further his own career but that he still thought so little of her after all they’d gone through together stung more than she’d ever admit.

Hearing more movement within the office, (Y/N) realized that they were about to emerge and quickly sprang into action; she hurriedly tiptoed backwards until she was at the bullpen’s entrance and made a large show of re-entering the room just as Jack was leaving Daniel’s office, a strangely contemplative look on his face that only deepened when his eyes landed on her.

“I thought Jarvis was taking you home.”

“He is, I just needed to tell you something before we leave.” (Y/N) hastily hid her jumbled emotions behind a smile of feigned excitement. “Jarvis reminded me that the bug you planted in the club is still there and with any luck, it might’ve picked up Michael and Attwell’s voices; with all the…well, excitement, I forgot all about it.”

Jack chuckled once, and his expression relaxed as he replied, “Same here. Well, I’ll give Zhang a ring later to update him on everything that’s happened and let him know he’s only got one bug to collect.”

“Okay.” There was an awkward pause where (Y/N) couldn’t think of what else to say; she didn’t want him to know that she’d heard his and Daniel’s conversation but his hurtful words were all she could think of. Inspiration suddenly struck when she glanced down and realized that she was still wearing his tuxedo jacket. “Oh! Here, I forgot about this…” She took off the jacket and tried not to shudder when the cool air hit her warm skin. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Taking the jacket from her and slinging it over his arm, Jack gave her a small smile. “Anytime.” There was another awkward pause and during which (Y/N) had to look away from him. Just as she was about to say a brief goodbye, her partner cleared his throat; she looked back at him and almost raised a brow when she saw the apprehensive expression on his face. “Look, tonight was pretty much a disaster; I mean, nothing went according to plan and we managed to piss off an entire federal agency, but…it was also kinda…well, kinda fun. And you were great, Specs, with this being your first undercover mission and all.” He shrugged, and his blue eyes twinkled in amusement. “I guess you’ve got something to fall back on if you ever wanted a career change.”

(Y/N) forced herself to laugh at his joke. “I guess you’re right but I think I’ll stick to cracking codes.” They both fell silent after that. “I should…I should go. Jarvis is waiting outside for me and-”

“Of course, yeah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Thompson.” Flashing him a tight smile, she turned and left the bullpen, her heart breaking with each step she took away from Jack Thompson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After bidding Edwin goodbye and spending ten minutes lying her ass off to Mrs. Espinoza about why she looked as if she’d been in a bar fight, (Y/N) trudged into her apartment and immediately kicked off her high heels with a relieved sigh. She looked at her reflection in her vanity’s mirror and quickly decided that a bath was in order; her makeup was smudged, her hair was falling out of its up-do and the bruises across her skin were already beginning to darken. It wasn’t a relaxing bath by any means, as she wanted it done as quickly as possible, and when she was finished she hurriedly dressed in a robe and wrapped her wet hair up in a thin towel to dry before gathering up all of her translation journals and coding papers.

“Peggy needs answers and I’m going to get them for her.” (Y/N) murmured to herself, spreading her materials over her small kitchen table and making herself comfortable in her favorite chair before picking up her pencil. “Whatever it takes.”

It was going to be a long, long night.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles

“Oh, c’mon, Jacqueline’s gotta be the one who pushed that boulder off the cliff.” Jack groaned under his breath as he turned the page of his well-worn paperback and continued reading. When he’d expressed interest in reading a novel, Ana Jarvis had immediately taken him to see her impressive collection of books and given him permission to borrow from it. The first one that had stood out to him was Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile and for the past week, he’d been reading a chapter or two whenever things were slow around the office. It’s not like there was much else to do while he was there; they couldn’t work too much on their case because of the unconfirmed mole within the SSR and after their stunt at The Palladium, Daniel had suggested they keep their heads down for a little while.

And as far as his relationship with (Y/N) went…well, she hadn’t spoken to him much in the past week and whenever she did, it was with a subdued and businesslike tone that he’d never heard her use around him before. Jack knew that his partner was still upset about the other evening, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was because of whatever Peggy had said to her when they were alone; he’d tried bringing it up to her a handful of times but every time he did, she’d quickly change the subject or throw herself back into her work to avoid answering him.

As his thoughts continued to drift away from his book and to the codebreaker, Jack marked his page and tossed it onto the desk with a frustrated sigh. “Dammit.” He glanced out the door of Daniel’s office expecting to see (Y/N) focused on her decoding, but he was instead met with the sight of an empty desk. Normally, Jack would assume that she was grabbing a cup of tea or handing a report in to Rose but since her briefcase was conspicuously missing, he realized in an instant that she hadn’t yet made it into the office.

“Hey, Thompson, did you sign that one report for…? Why the long face?” Jack’s view of (Y/N)’s unoccupied desk was blocked by Daniel as he limped into his office. “Did you already figure out who’s the murderer or something?”

“No, it’s not the book. Has (Y/L/N) ever been late to work before?”

Lowering himself into the chair behind his desk, Daniel’s eyes flicked over to her desk as he shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of. If she’s called in sick, then Rose would be the first one to know about it. I’ve gotta make some calls to D.C. now, so if you’ll excuse me…”

Daniel reached for the handset and began dialing numbers, already absorbed in his work. With a sigh of frustration, Jack got up and shoved his paperback book into his pocket before leaving the office and making his way to the entrance of Auerbach Theatrical Agency. It was clear that Daniel didn’t see anything unusual about (Y/N)’s absence, but Jack knew her far better than he did; the codebreaker wouldn’t let something like an illness stop her from doing the job she loved and in all the time she’d been with the West Coast SSR, she’d always been either early or on-time to work.

Walking into the lobby of the faux agency, Jack was instantly met with the sight of Rose shoving a disgruntled younger man out the front door. “Sorry again…but you’re just…not…right…for the Auerbach Theatrical Agency!” She gave the man a final push and quickly slammed the door closed, grumbling under her breath, “That’s the fifth one this week…”

“Another actor who couldn’t handle rejection?”

Rose turned and gave Jack her usual cheerful smile of greeting. “The guy might’ve had the good looks of Cary Grant, but his acting stank like last week’s garbage. Was there something you needed, Chief Thompson?”

“Yeah, I noticed that Agent (Y/L/N) hasn’t come into work yet and I was wondering if she called in sick.” Catching sight of the knowing look in her eyes, Jack hurriedly added, “I normally wouldn’t care about an agent’s whereabouts but she’s got a ton of codes to crack and document today.”

“Uh-huh. Well, (Y/N) hasn’t telephoned in today and she didn’t request any time off, either.” Rose shrugged and moved around the desk to sit in her chair. “She probably forgot to call; not that I blame her, of course, with the way she’s been looking this week.”

Jack frowned in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean? She’s looked…she’s looked fine to me…” Just fine? More like drop-dead gorgeous, he chided himself, the memory of their dance at The Palladium and how beautiful she’d looked in his arms unwittingly coming to mind.

“Seriously? You haven’t noticed all the extra makeup she’s been wearing lately?” Taking in his baffled expression, Rose rolled her eyes in exasperation. “And they say that men make better investigators than women. For the past week now, (Y/N)’s been using makeup to cover up the bags under her eyes and to brighten up her face. I’m sure that she’s resting at home and just forgot to request a sick day, that’s all.” She gave him a reassuring smile before turning her attention to organizing the scattered papers on her desk.

Leaving Rose to her work, Jack trudged back into the office and hesitated a moment before sitting down at (Y/N)’s unoccupied desk. They’re right, she’s probably caught a bad cold or something, Jack silently reasoned, ignoring the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he pulled his book out of his pocket and opened it up to the page he’d left off on. “Yep, absolutely nothing to worry ‘bout…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But by five o’clock Jack had progressed from mild worry to full-on panic; (Y/N) still hadn’t come into the office or telephoned but what was most concerning for Jack was that his numerous calls to her hadn’t been answered. He’d tried to convince himself that his partner was just under the weather and that the radio-silence on her end was completely normal but as the day went on, his thoughts wouldn’t stop turning to other more sinister reasons for her silence.

Unfortunately, he was the only person who was at all concerned about the whereabouts of the SSR’s most talented codebreaker. Rose believed that she was merely sick, Daniel was too preoccupied with his chiefly duties to care and it was clear to anyone with eyes that Peggy was still upset with the two of them; she’d snapped at Jack for interrupting her work and when he’d mentioned (Y/N)’s name, she stormed out of the bullpen without so much as a backwards glance.

So, as he watched the other agents preparing to leave for the night, Jack decided that he’d stop by (Y/N)’s apartment to see if she was all right. At least if her car’s parked out front I’ll know she’s home and not out in this storm, he thought before hailing a taxi and clambering in before his clothes could get too wet. He had the taxi driver drop him off at the diner they’d conducted their investigation from early on in their partnership, deciding that it would be more inconspicuous of him to walk the one block to her apartment than to be dropped off right in front of it.

Through the rain, Jack could make out (Y/N)’s car parked on the street but the uneasy feeling in his stomach didn’t go away. One of Michael’s men still could’ve gotten to her, he thought as his frown deepened, just like what happened to me back in July. The heavy downpour of rain began to ebb as Jack walked on, becoming no more than a light sprinkling by the time he reached the apartment building’s fire escape. He glanced around and when he saw no one else in the area, he began climbing the ladder with slight reluctance. Once again, he cursed the fact that (Y/N) lived in an apartment building that barred men from entering. Sneaking into her place always made him feel like some sort of sick Peeping Tom, despite the fact that he did so with (Y/N)’s full knowledge and consent and that it was only to solve a case; it was the main reason why he much preferred the evenings they worked out of Stark’s mansion. But if something really had happened to (Y/N), then how would he feel knowing that his gentlemanly behavior had gotten in the way of possibly saving her life?

“C’mon, Thompson, if the roles were reversed she’d do the same for you.” Jack mumbled to himself as he continued to carefully climb up to the second-story level. Since (Y/N)’s curtains weren’t drawn, Jack was able to clearly see into the front room of her apartment and he sighed in relief when his eyes landed on (Y/N); she was sitting at her small kitchen table with stacks of papers surrounding her, seemingly absorbed in writing something down. “Looks like Rose was right.” Jack turned to climb back down the fire escape but stopped himself; he still had a gut-feeling that something was off, and he realized with a small groan that it wouldn’t go away until he spoke to (Y/N) directly. Before he could lose his nerve, Jack turned back around and knocked three times on her window and watched as (Y/N)’s head shot up, her expression quickly shifting from shock to bewilderment once she recognized him.

“Are you out of your mind, Flyboy?!” (Y/N) demanded after Jack climbed through her window and took off his dripping wet hat and rain coat. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, you could’ve slipped and fallen!”

Following (Y/N)’s instructions, Jack hung his things on her coat-rack and positioned it beside the radiator to dry. “I tried calling but you weren’t answering your telephone, so I thought I’d drop by for a quick visit.”

“Oh…I’m sorry, I took my telephone off its receiver; I-I didn’t want there to be any distractions while I was working.” After adjusting his wet coat on the rack, Jack turned to face her with the intent of giving her a teasing retort but the words died in his throat when he got his first real look at her face; she frowned as he continued to stare. “What?”

“Okay, please don’t get offended, Specs, but you look like absolute shit. Are you sick or something?”

It seemed that Rose had been right about (Y/N)’s attempts to mask her appearance; there was an unhealthy pallor to the codebreaker’s face that was highlighted by the large bags underneath her eyes. It might’ve been the low lighting in the apartment, but it almost looked as if her forehead was beaded with sweat. When Jack finally tore his eyes away from her face, he saw that her normally styled hair was haphazardly pulled into a ponytail and that she wore a wrinkled robe over a set of pajamas.

Suddenly looking self-conscious, (Y/N) tugged her robe closed and shrugged. “I’m fine; I just had some things to work on here, that’s all. So, what was so important that you had to climb up a metal fire escape in the middle of a rainstorm to talk to me?”

“Um…” Jack bit his lip and watched her put a kettle of water on the stove. “Well, it’s about you, actually. You haven’t really been yourself lately, not since before The Palladium, and I’ve been…everyone’s been worried about you. Is this because of what Peggy said-?”

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) snapped, turning towards Jack with a hardened expression on her face. “And I think it’s time that you…that you…”

All of the sudden, her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled; Jack lunged forward and managed to catch her limp form before she could hit the floor. “(Y/N)!” He carefully lowered her to the ground and shook her shoulder, staring down at her face for any signs of life. “C’mon, (Y/N), wake up!” He placed his free hand on her forehead to check her temperature and only grew more panicked by how clammy her skin felt. “Shit, shit, shit…”

Before he could begin to think about what to do next, (Y/N)’s eyes slowly blinked open and she glanced around in confusion. “What…? What happened?”

“You fainted! We were talking and you just collapsed out of nowhere, you scared the hell out of me!” Jack babbled, hastily scanning his partner’s face for any signs of injury and breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t find any. “Did you wanna try and sit up?” She nodded and he helped her move into a sitting position, keeping an arm secured around her back for support. His eyes caught sight of the papers on the table she’d been going through when he knocked and realization hit him when he recognized scribbles of Michael Carter’s code on one of them. “Specs, when was the last time you slept or had a decent meal?”

(Y/N)’s face fell and after a moment’s silence, she shook her head and quietly answered, “I don’t remember.”

Jack’s brow furrowed in concern as he watched the codebreaker discreetly wipe away a tear and he felt a pang of compassion in his chest. Knowing that the last thing she’d want from him was sympathy, Jack gave her an offhand shrug and gently continued. “Well, I’m not much of a nurse but I am pretty good at giving orders. And right now, Agent (Y/L/N), I’m ordering food and lots of bed rest for you.”

His teasing did the trick; (Y/N) looked up at him with a reluctant smile on her lips and a glimmer of familiar amusement in her eyes. “Who am I to argue with a Lieutenant Junior Grade?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“C’mon, Carter…” Jack mumbled to himself, tucking the handset of the telephone between his head and shoulder as he continued chopping vegetables. “Pick up, pick up…”

The telephone rang for several more moments before it was finally answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Carter, it’s me. I hope I’m not interruptin’ your evening or anything.” Jack spoke into the handset with barely-concealed sarcasm. “I’m just calling with an update on (Y/N)’s condition, since you’re an old friend of hers and all.”

There was a short pause before Peggy asked, “Condition?”

“Yeah, it turns out that this whole week she’s been busting her ass trying to crack all of your big brother’s codes. She fainted when I first got here and when she came-to, she couldn’t tell me when she’d last eaten or slept.”

“Dear Lord, is she all right?! Can I speak to her?”

Jack raised a brow at Peggy’s concerned tone. “She’s sleeping right now; I already had her drink a cup of tea and when she wakes up, I’ll try getting her to eat a little soup.”

“Good, good. If…if you need any sort of help, I can be there in-”

“I could’ve used your help earlier, Carter, when I told you that something was wrong!” He snapped, setting the knife down on the cutting board with more force than necessary. “Look, I get that you’re still upset about our investigation, I really do, but if you’re gonna take your anger out on someone then take it out on me. I’m the one who started this whole thing when I went to London to get that goddamn file and I’m the one who chose to keep the investigation a secret all this time. Stay pissed off at me as long as you’d like, but (Y/N) doesn’t deserve what you’re doing to her.”

Over the line, Jack could make out Peggy’s sigh of frustration. “It’s not that simple, Thompson-”

“Yes, it is, Peggy, and you know it.” He rubbed his forehead with his free hand and exhaled through his nose before continuing. “Hurting her isn’t gonna change the fact that you’re not ready to accept that your brother’s still alive. You haven’t bothered to look at our evidence board, and it doesn’t take an idiot to figure out why you haven’t listened to the bug we planted in that nightclub.” The line was silent but Jack knew Peggy was still there. “I need to finish cooking but before I go, keep in mind that you’re turning your back on a good friend all because you don’t wanna believe that your brother’s a cold-hearted monster.”

Without waiting for a response, Jack slammed the handset down onto its receiver and leaned against the counter with a sigh. He knew that he’d probably crossed a line by throwing those accusations at Peggy but he didn’t care; the sooner Peggy accepted the truth about Michael, the sooner they could continue investigating him and the Secret Empire. I’ll know it worked when I go to the office tomorrow and she doesn’t immediately try to murder me, he thought with a humorless smile.

“Who were you talking to?”

Jack turned to see (Y/N) opening the door of her bedroom, an inquisitive look on her sleepy face; since she wore a clean set of pajamas and her hair was wrapped up in a thin towel, he realized that she’d just had a bath. “Just Agent Cabrera; he was giving me an update on the New York office. You feeling any better?”

She nodded, moving across the small living room and easing herself down onto her sofa. “You were right about the benefits of thirty-minute naps, Flyboy; where’d you pick that little tid-bit up from?”

“My first battleship, actually. The older guys warned us that we wouldn’t be getting a lot of rest out at sea so they recommended we train our bodies so that we could take short naps anytime and anywhere.” He finished chopping up the remaining vegetables and began scooping them into the simmering pot of broth. “It’s a hard habit to shake so I just learned to roll with it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed (Y/N) switch on the radio and tune it until a slow melody began to softly play. “Well, that explains why you’re always so cheery in the morning.” They fell into an awkward silence, and he was all-too aware of her fixed gaze on him as he stirred the soup. It wasn’t until he began ladling the finished soup into a bowl that she finally spoke. “This isn’t the first time this sort of thing has happened, you know.”

Jack looked over at her, watching as she stared down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “It isn’t?” He slowly asked, not wanting to pressure her into elaborating despite his overwhelming curiosity.

“When I was around twelve, my teachers noticed that I was reading books that were much more advanced than what the other kids were reading. After talking to my parents, they put me in a class for what they called ‘gifted students,’ where the schoolwork was a lot more challenging for us.” (Y/N) sighed and glanced back up at him. “I hated it. It was like I wasn’t allowed to be a normal kid anymore; class time was always so serious, and the teachers were strict with us. I stopped reading for fun, thinking that if I did, I could go back to a normal class but it never happened. Failure wasn’t an option anymore, so I did everything I could to avoid it…even if it meant skipping meals and losing sleep.”

“That’s…that’s a horrible way for a kid to grow up.” Jack’s heart clenched in sympathy as he imagined (Y/N) as a child, sitting alone at a desk and being forced to complete an endless amount of schoolwork all by herself. “And your parents didn’t try talking to your teachers?”

“Not at all.” (Y/N) snorted in derision. “My mother and father didn’t give a damn about me let alone my education and to be perfectly honest, I think they got a little satisfaction out of seeing me struggle with schoolwork.” At a loss for words, Jack moved across the room and handed her the bowl of soup. “Mmm, that smells wonderful!” She smiled at him in thanks and began eating while he sat down beside her. “It wasn’t all terrible, though; being a so-called ‘gifted student’ got me into Stanford, and that’s where I was finally able to study everything I was truly interested in.”

Despite all the jumbled thoughts running through his mind, Jack couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Well, I’m glad it worked out for you but c’mon, Specs, Stanford? Everyone knows that Cornell’s the better school.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, swallowing a mouthful of soup before arching a brow in amusement. “Better at tooting its own horn, maybe.” He scoffed as she snickered. “Seriously, what’s with Cornell alumni always bragging about having attended Cornell? It’s only a university, for Pete’s sake!”

“I guess we’ve got a lot more to be proud of than all of you Stanford people. You know, since our school’s highest ranked university in the country.” His grin widened when (Y/N) flipped him a rude hand gesture and returned to her soup with a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. While she slowly finished her dinner, Jack occupied himself by flicking through one of the Life magazines that was strewn on her coffee table and listening to the radio playing in the background.

The peaceful moment reminded Jack of other memorable evenings they’d spent in each other’s company. There was the time when he wound up teaching (Y/N) how to make meatballs and they’d stuffed themselves with spaghetti…when (Y/N) had recounted a funny story from her time at Bletchley and made him laugh so hard that Coca-Cola damn near shot out of his nose…when they’d decided to work outside next to Stark’s pool during one warm evening and he couldn’t stop marveling at how beautiful (Y/N) looked in the moonlight…

Giving his head a small shake to clear his mind, Jack glanced over and was surprised to see that his partner had fallen fast asleep, her head resting on her shoulder and her empty soup bowl perched precariously in her lap. “Specs?” When she didn’t stir, Jack relocated the bowl to the coffee table before carefully gathering her into his arms and carrying her the short way into the bedroom.

Once he laid her down on the bed, he covered her with the comforter and an extra blanket for good measure. He was about to leave when a group of framed photographs on her dresser caught his eye; there was one that showed a younger (Y/N) and a group of women standing together in some sort of an office, another with (Y/N) and Peggy arm-and-arm and dressed in their SSR military uniforms, and one that showed the two of them laughing alongside a group of men that Jack instantly recognized as being Captain America and his Howling Commandos; he raised a brow in surprise when he realized one of the men had his arm wrapped tightly around (Y/N)’s shoulders. His gaze then landed on the last photograph, which depicted a teenage (Y/N) and a boy swinging on a porch swing; the boy was several years younger than her and it didn’t take Jack very long to realize that they were related. Both had the same chin, the same high cheekbones and, despite the graininess of the photograph, he could see that their eyes shared the same bright intensity.

“I meant what I said earlier.” (Y/N)’s soft voice startled him out of his rumination. He turned around in time to see her sleepily blink her eyes open. “Being told every day that my intelligence was the only thing that made me special taught me to fear failure…and that’s something I’ve struggled with by myself.” Her expression grew more guarded the longer she looked at him. “Why did you come here tonight, Jack?”

“Because I was worried about you.” He automatically replied.

“But…?” (Y/N) trailed off, her eyes shining with vulnerability as she continued. “Why?”

Jack sighed, and he found that he couldn’t fight the gentle smile that was creeping onto his face. “Because you’re not just a coworker to me, or even a case partner. You’re my…you’re my friend, Specs. There aren’t many people out there I think of that way, but you’re one of the few I do.”

For a brief moment, Jack nervously wondered if he’d crossed the line as he watched (Y/N)’s expression go completely blank, but his fear soon dissipated when the corners of her mouth curved into a grin. “Right back at you, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was well-past midnight by the time Jack got into bed, almost sighing in satisfaction as warmth finally seeped into his freezing body. (Y/N) had quickly fallen back asleep after their brief exchange and once he cleaned up the mess he’d made in her kitchen, Jack carefully climbed down the slick fire escape and made his way back to Stark’s mansion. Any other day, the warmth combined with the overwhelming comfy-ness of the expensive bedding would’ve had him out like a light, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation he’d had with (Y/N) and the inner feeling of guilt it had brought on.

Jack had held disdain for overly-intelligent people for the majority of his life, believing that every single one of them flaunted their gifts as a way to prove their superiority over others. He wasn’t proud of it but that was how a small part of him had viewed (Y/N), even after their partnership grew. But after listening to her story and all the struggles she’d faced with her academics, he understood that his prejudice had been entirely unfair; his partner had worked incredibly hard before, during and after the war for her current career. Who was he to think any less of her – or anyone else for that matter – for succeeding at something he could never dream of doing in a million years?

“A damn fool.” He chided himself, his mind drifting back to what he’d told (Y/N) in her bedroom. Everything he’d said to her was true; he really did consider her to be his friend and at the rate things were going, she was probably his only real friend. But what he didn’t tell her was how his heart skipped a beat every time she smiled at him, how he spent more time in front of a mirror than he’d care to admit neatly styling his hair before work, how she could instantly lift his mood just by walking into a room…he didn’t tell her about the feelings he’d been harboring for her. He’d never been in love with someone before, at least not like how all the books and films described it, but he knew that what he felt for the codebreaker was something special. Until he was absolutely sure of his feelings, though, he decided he’d try his hardest to keep them hidden. “A damn, love-struck fool.” He sighed in defeat, burrowing into the warm blankets and smiling despite himself as he began to drift asleep.

The next morning, Jack was reading in Daniel’s office with his feet propped up on the edge of the desk. The echoing sound of high heels clicking on the linoleum floor made him glance up from his book, and he grinned when he caught (Y/N)’s eye as she made her way to her desk; she looked bright-eyed and well-rested, a testament to her filling dinner and good night’s sleep. Her attention was drawn away from him by a hesitant looking Peggy; across the bullpen, the two women quietly spoke for several minutes before sharing a tight hug, and Jack returned to his book with a satisfied smile on his face.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

Lockheed Air Terminal, Burbank

While (Y/N) and Jack trudged up the air-stairs and boarded the plane, each stifling yawns behind their hands as the sky began to lighten, (Y/N)’s tired mind replayed the previous morning’s conversation that had led to their spur-of-the-moment flight…

Daniel leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a questioning brow. “So, you two think that all the answers we need are in England?”

(Y/N) nodded and gestured to the evidence board they’d propped up on the kitchen counter. “We’ve already exhausted all of our leads here; there’s still no sign of Adam Fieldman or the weapons manufacturing he oversees, and Stompanato’s old gang has gone too far underground for us to safely question without revealing our investigation.”

“Yeah, and we still don’t know why ‘M. Carter’s’ file has handwritten codes of sensitive information in it.” Jack explained, moving across the kitchen to point at a photograph of a dark haired man. “This is Nick Driscoll, an old buddy of mine from Cornell and the MI5 agent I contacted to dig up dirt on Peggy for Vernon Masters.” Looking a little awkward, he rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Definitely not my finest moment, but we think that questioning Driscoll about the file’s the best way to begin furthering the investigation.”

Peggy, who’d been mostly silent as they’d gone over everything they’d uncovered, finally spoke up. “And what about the three remaining codes from his file? Have you been able to crack them?”

“One of them ended up being a list of crime bosses in Los Angeles that included Stompanato’s name and the other was a detailed description of the devices they created based off of Howard’s stolen blueprint.” (Y/N) replied, noting that while Peggy decided to join their investigation she was diligently avoiding saying her brother’s name out loud. “The third one’s stumping me but I’ll keep working on it while we’re in England.”

“While you’re gone, Peggy and I can try and ferret out the spy that’s supposedly stationed in the SSR.” Daniel’s expression suddenly fell. “Oh, damn. Won’t the spy get suspicious if you’re both gone from the SSR at the same time?”

Grinning, Jack shook his head. “Nope, ‘cause the entire office thinks that we hate each other; hell, that’s what you and Carter thought up until last week. We’ve never given anyone a reason to believe we’re working a secret investigation together so as long as you don’t draw attention to it, Danny Boy, they shouldn’t get suspicious.”

“In that case, you two had better pack some warm clothes; I hear England’s pretty chilly this time of year.”

Before either of them could reply Howard padded into the kitchen, still dressed in his red silk monogrammed pajamas and rubbing at his temples; when the inventor finally noticed them, he groaned, “Geez, it’s like I’m runnin’ a goddamn bed and breakfast for you SSR people! One of you go make yourself useful and get Jarvis to fix me up a Hangover Miracle, will you?”

Taking a red-eye commercial flight out of Burbank had been Peggy’s idea and while (Y/N) couldn’t argue with the younger woman’s reasoning that it was more inconspicuous, she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on a plane; the seats were uncomfortable and turbulence made it near-impossible to rest for more than ten minutes at a time. It’s a good thing you packed so many magazines and crossword puzzles, she thought to herself with another yawn, making herself as comfortable as she could in her window seat before pulling the latest issue of Life out of her handbag and slipping on her reading glasses.

She’d already skimmed an article chronicling the post-war growth of Stark Industries and was about to read more about the growing popularity surrounding photography when the plane began taxiing to the runway, and that was when she realized that Jack’s leg was bouncing nervously up and down. Looking away from her magazine, (Y/N)’s suspicion was confirmed when she saw that his jaw was tightly clenched and his eyes were darting around the cabin of the plane.

“Nervous flyer?” (Y/N) asked, smiling gently at Jack when he glanced over at her. “As my grandmother would say, ‘you’re jumpier than a turkey on Thanksgiving.’”

Jack snorted in amusement. “The take-off’s always the worst…and the turbulence can be a little intense sometimes…and then there’s the landing. So yeah, there’s a few good reasons why I enlisted in the Navy and not the Air Force. Flying doesn’t bother you at all?”

“Not really; it’s not the most comfortable way to travel, of course, but I don’t have any serious problems with it.”

“Lucky you.” He quipped, his hand tightly clutching the armrest separating their seats as the plane’s speed began to accelerate. A sudden swell of sympathy spurred (Y/N) into action; she gently coaxed his hand off the armrest and threaded her fingers through his, smiling slightly as his hand tightened around hers the moment the plane’s wheels left the ground.

Jack’s eyes were squeezed shut and she could see that he was holding his breath as the plane continued its ascent; not wanting to embarrass or agitate him, (Y/N) went back to reading her magazine but continued holding his hand. Once the plane finally leveled out, she heard her partner release his breath and felt his grip on her hand loosen; he pulled his hand away from hers after several moments, and that was when (Y/N) decided it was okay for her to talk to him. “Did you know that Steve Rogers was afraid of heights?”

“You’re pulling my leg, Specs. Captain America, scared of heights?”

“He was!” (Y/N) insisted, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she continued. “In the fall of ’44, we were traveling through the Bellunes Alps, well-behind the German lines, to investigate a suspected Hydra base. The high winds made it impossible for us to do a parachute jump, so we were forced to walk through the mountains on this tiny path during a storm.” She chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone swear as much as Steve did during that journey.” Glancing over at Jack, she raised a brow at the look of surprise on his face. “What? You didn’t think he was just like that god-awful Captain America radio show, did you?”

He grimaced at the mention of the popular program. “’Course not, it’s just that Peggy and the others always speak so highly of him. Makes it kinda easy to forget that he was just a normal guy from Brooklyn before the war.”

“Well, somebody’s got to keep the history of the Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan accurate. If Steve were here, he’d agree with me; the last thing he’d want is for people to only remember him as a martyr.” (Y/N) reasoned, retrieving her handbag from its spot on the floor and holding it out to Jack. “All right, I’ve got more magazines than a corner drug store, a couple of crossword puzzle books and even one of my codebreaking notebooks you can practice with. Take your pick, Flyboy.”

Although he was visibly impressed, Jack shook his head and pulled a well-worn paperback novel out of his coat pocket. “Thanks, but I think I’m gonna read a little of this for now.”

(Y/N)’s brow rose as her partner opened the book to its marked page and began reading; his newfound interest in reading was a little surprising to her, since he’d never really struck her as the reading type. But while she watched him devour novel after novel over the past few weeks, she couldn’t help but feel attracted to this unknown side of him. Don’t be such a weirdo, (Y/N) scolded herself, returning her focus back to the magazine in her lap and trying her hardest not to steal glances at the man beside her.

After a very long and very arduous flight that included two plane transfers and an inconsolable toddler on the last plane, (Y/N) nearly sobbed in relief when she finally set foot on the British airstrip. She’d forgotten just how uncomfortable long flights could be, and the forced closeness to her extremely-attractive partner with certainly didn’t help the situation. Thank goodness that he and I are sleeping in separate rooms tonight, she thought to herself as she subtly glanced at Jack, who was busy gathering up their luggage. Looking away from him, it was then that (Y/N) was able to take in the familiar and far-off skyline of London; she hadn’t seen it since the end of the war and based on how rapidly her stomach had dropped at the sight, it was clear that she wasn’t quite ready to be back.

“You ready, Specs?”

(Y/N) turned to Jack with a forced smile. “Of course!”

The two of them hailed a cab and loaded their luggage into the trunk, sliding into the backseat just as the light misting turned into rain and the sun began to set. Despite the anxiety steadily building within her, (Y/N) watched with amusement as Jack stared intently out of the cab’s windows during their drive; her partner had visited London before to meet with his old school friend, but it was obvious that this was the first time he’d truly been able to take in the sights and sounds of the city. I was the same way when I first came here, (Y/N) quietly reminisced, picturing the incredibly naïve twenty-two-year-old who only wanted to make the world a better place.

As if sensing her contemplative thoughts, Jack turned to her with a curious look in his eyes. “You were here just before the Blitz began, right? Has it changed much since then?”

She glanced out the window and nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and smiling tightly. “Yes…yes, it’s changed quite a lot.”

They arrived at their hotel just as dusk was beginning to settle and were quickly ushered into the lobby by the doorman. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief as warmth began to return to her chilled limbs and she followed Jack to the front desk.

“Reservation for Jonathan Grant Williams.”

The man at the front desk flipped through his leather-bound book and nodded. “Yes, of course. An adjoining suite with two Queen-sized beds, is that correct?” Once Jack confirmed that it was, the man had him sign their guestbook and called a bellhop to them. “Cedric here will lead you to your rooms, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. If you have any inquiries or will require anything during your stay, please feel free to ring the front desk.”

As they followed the bellhop into the elevator, (Y/N) and Jack subtly exchanged matching looks of exasperation; they’d decided to pose as a married couple for the sake of blending in, but they both vehemently agreed on how silly it was that two single people couldn’t book separate hotel rooms without drawing scrutiny from others. The war was terrible but I can’t deny that it managed to squash idiotic societal norms for a good few years, (Y/N) thought to herself a little wistfully, exiting the lift alongside Jack and trailing behind the bellhop as he led them down the hallway and into their suite.

“Could you imagine the scandalized looks on those stuffed shirt’s faces if they knew we were two unmarried SSR agents on a secret fact-finding mission? I bet their monocles would pop.” (Y/N) jokingly remarked when the bellhop left, removing her hat and coat before flopping down in an armchair and sighing. “Urgh, I finally remembered why I really hate long-distance flights: the goddamn jetlag.”

Jack chuckled as he tucked the telephone handset into the crook of his neck and rifled through his suitcase. “I’ll have to agree with you on that one, Specs. Almost makes you wonder why steamships fell out of fashi-hey, Driscoll! Anyone answer telephones in your house?” The man on the other end of the line replied and Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, we landed a little later than I thought we would, so can we meet up tomorrow morning instead? Sure, that sounds good. See you in the morning, Driscoll.” He dropped the telephone down onto its receiver and looked over at (Y/N) with a smile. “Nick’s agreed to meet with us tomorrow, and he said he’ll telephone with the location in the morning.”

“So, it looks like we’ve got the night off!” Unceremoniously kicking off her heels, (Y/N) got up from her armchair and started hauling her luggage into the suite’s second bedroom. “What are we possibly going to do to fill the time?”

She heard him chuckle at her sarcastic question from the other room. “Order room service, listen to a radio program then go to bed before ten, of course.”

And that’s exactly what they did; after eating a bowl of hearty beef stew and listening to the BBC, they bid each other goodnight and retreated into their separate rooms. (Y/N) hummed different Andrews Sisters songs as she went about her nightly routine, first changing into her nightgown and putting her hair up in pin curls before setting out her clothes for the next day and preparing for bed. When she finally switched off the bedside lamp and nestled herself under the covers, the warmth of the bed combined with the soothing patter of rain against the windows quickly lulled her into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, the peacefulness wouldn’t last.

(Y/N) drove down the dirt road at break-neck speed, her hands gripping the steering wheel of the stolen Jeep so tightly that her knuckles began to ache. Without even glancing at the watch on her wrist, she knew that she was running out of time and as her heart clenched in her chest, she stepped on the gas pedal to go faster. In the distance, she could faintly make out the skyline of Düsseldorf but she didn’t dare slow down until she crossed into the city.

Spotting a man in a U.S. Army uniform, (Y/N) stomped on the brakes and leapt out of the vehicle before it came to a complete stop. “The 222^nd Infantry Regiment, are they still here?”

The soldier stammered out, “Y-yes ma’am, they’re liquidating one of the factories-”

(Y/N) turned and ran, ignoring the soldier’s confused shout. She sprinted through the debris-ridden streets and past bombed-out buildings, ignoring the stitch in her chest and the pounding of her heart. Skidding around a corner, she immediately saw the large warehouse in the distance and the soldiers that were going in and out of the building, hard at work carrying crates out to their trucks and loading them into the back. Although she was over a hundred feet away, her gaze was instantly drawn to one young soldier; he was chatting away with a couple of other men and when he entered the building, her heart plummeted in her chest as she recognized his carefree grin.

“Freddie! Freddie, no!”

(Y/N) shot up in bed with a choked scream, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe and her eyes frantically darting around the darkened room. She was faintly aware of her name being called and a light being switched on but she couldn’t focus on any of it; all she could do was replay the horrible moment where her nightmare had ended, over and over and over…

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), it’s okay, it’s just me!” Strong hands grasped her shoulders and the touch pulled her out of her memories, revealing the anxious face of Jack Thompson before her. “Just breathe, (Y/N), can you do that for me? C’mon, just breathe…” She felt herself release a shaky breath and he nodded in encouragement. “That’s it, it was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real…”

Tears welled in her eyes at his calming words and she lowered her head into her hands just as silent sobs began to wrack her body. After a moment of hesitation, she felt the edge of the bed dip and Jack’s hands gently pulled her forward to rest against his chest; she continued to quietly cry as her partner held her and occasionally murmured more comforting words, one hand resting on the back of her head and the other running up and down her back. Unfortunately, her nightmare had been all too real and the only thing keeping her from completely spiraling back into it was the man whose arms she was in.

It was unclear how much time had passed when (Y/N)’s sobs subsided and she finally pulled away from Jack’s embrace. Wiping away a stray tear from under her eye, she took a deep breath and met her partner’s concerned gaze. “I-I’m so sorry, Jack, I woke you up-”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He interrupted, his blue eyes searching hers before he let out a small sigh. “Do you…? Do you wanna talk about it?” Although appreciative of the offer, (Y/N) shook her head; she knew that she wasn’t quite ready to re-live that familiar nightmare. Jack nodded, seemingly understanding her reasoning. “Well, if you’re sure that you’re okay then I should…”

(Y/N)’s hand shot out to grab Jack’s arm and stop him from getting up. “Please, I’m not…I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can you stay?” Jack nodded without hesitation and (Y/N) scooted over so that he could climb into bed beside her. He switched off the bedside lamp, plunging them into semi-darkness, before making himself comfortable on his own side; in any other situation, (Y/N) would’ve been embarrassed at the prospect of sharing a bed with her partner and amused by how careful he was not to encroach on her side of the bed. That night, however, she was just thankful not to be alone with her memories. “Do you…do you ever have nightmares about the war?”

She felt him shift a little beside her before answering. “Sometimes. When I first got back, they were pretty intense but once I got a job at the SSR, I didn’t have them as often. From what I’ve heard, a lot of people who served experience them; they’re…they’re nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of.”

“I know…my father used to have them. He served in the Army during the Great War and from what others have told me, he returned home a changed man.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump in her throat and stared up at the ceiling. “They got so bad that right after I was born, he started to use opiates.”

“…That’s how you knew what to say to get Peter Hanson to talk.”

Nodding, (Y/N)’s fingers played with the edge of the comforter. “Yep. That’s probably the only good thing that came from growing up with a father who cared more about getting his next fix than his own daughter.” She half-heartedly joked before exhaling through her nose. “I haven’t had nightmares in months but the moment I return to England…? Well, I suppose it was only inevitable that they’d come back.”

The room fell silent, save for the blustering storm outside. Then, (Y/N) felt Jack’s hand gently take hers and intertwine their fingers together as he moved their joined hands to rest between them on the bed. “’Night, Specs.”

“Goodnight, Flyboy.” (Y/N) whispered, rolling onto her side and shifting closer to Jack so that her forehead was resting up against his shoulder; her partner’s familiar scent and the comforting touch of his hand made it easy for her to fall back asleep, this time without the nightmares.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As (Y/N) was beginning to wake up, the first thing she registered was how warm she was; it was as if she was curled up under the world’s coziest blankets, and she couldn’t resist burrowing closer to the inviting warmth. To her confusion, though, the comfy bedding moved and began to gently shake her bare shoulder.

“Specs? Hey, Specs, it’s time to wake up…” The husky voice and gentle words were followed up by another small shake. “C’mon, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine.”

Blinking her eyes open, (Y/N) slowly realized that she was not lying on the hotel’s firm mattress but rather a pajama-clad shoulder; she lifted her head up a little to instantly see Jack’s teasing smirk. “Oh, hi there. I thought you were a blanket.” She raised the arm that had been loosely wrapped around her partner’s waist and rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm-hmm, like a baby.” Moving her hand away from her eyes, she met Jack’s gaze just as he raised a curious brow. “What about you? Any more nightmares?”

(Y/N) shook her head, resting it back on Jack’s shoulder with a small smile. “Nope. I…well, thank you for staying, Flyboy.”

“You would’ve done the same if you were in my shoes.” He reasoned before shrugging and stifling a yawn behind his hand. “’Sides, my room was freezing and you’re like a human furnace. Seriously, how can somebody be that warm during a rainstorm?”

“Well, then, I’m glad I could be of service to you.” She sarcastically retorted, playfully swatting Jack’s chest as it shook with suppressed laughter.

It was then that she finally realized just how intimately close they were to one another. One of Jack’s hands was resting alongside hers on his chest while the other was pressed flat against her back and holding her firmly against him; (Y/N) could feel its warmth radiating through the thin satin of her nightgown and her breath hitched at the sensation. Her eyes flicked up to meet Jack’s, who was looking at her with a mixture of confusion and hesitancy. The hand on her back flexed and pressed a little harder as their eyes met, and just when she’d begun pulling her hand away from his chest, Jack’s hand slid up and covered hers with his, holding it firmly in place over his heart. Her face warming at the touch, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing down at his soft-looking lips and she felt herself begin to lean in…

The spell was broken when the ringing of the telephone suddenly blared throughout the suite, causing (Y/N) to hastily pull away from Jack as he practically jumped out of bed to go answer it. Her heart was racing in her chest and her hands had begun to shake, so she detangled herself from the bedsheets and hurried to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water onto her face. You almost slipped up and kissed Jack Thompson, she thought to herself, glancing up at her reflection in the bathroom mirror with a deep frown. The more their partnership grew, the more (Y/N) had to remind herself that it was only temporary; once they solved the case, he would be returning to his old life in New York and (Y/N) would again be alone.

“Remember the arrangement,” She told her reflection as her face twisted in pain and remorse. “And don’t form attachments to things you’re destined to lose. Not again…”

An hour later, (Y/N) and Jack made their way to Wilton’s Café to meet up with Nick Driscoll. Both of them were overly-polite yet distant as the memory of their almost-kiss hung silent over their heads, and neither of them made any mention of it. I’m not planning on saying a word about it and I hope he doesn’t either, she thought as they entered the cozy restaurant, better that it just remain some unspoken thing between us.

“Over here, Jack!” A man seated in the corner of the restaurant waved them over; he had short light-brown hair and a slightly crooked nose, and he was beaming as they weaved in between several tables to reach him. “Well, well, you’re looking good for a man who’s recently been shot!”

Jack scoffed as Nick stood and shook his hand. “That’s old news, pal. I thought MI5 was supposed to know everything about anything?”

“I’m sorry to deflate your ego, old chap, but we rarely keep informed on the goings-on of hot-headed SSR chiefs.” Nick grinned, looking past Jack and focusing on (Y/N) with a raised brow. “And who’s your charming friend? She’s far too gorgeous to be hanging around the likes of you.”

Stepping forward, (Y/N) smiled politely as she offered him her hand to shake. “Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N); I'm the codebreaker for the West Coast SSR.” She was unsurprised by the man’s dumbstruck expression, having been at the receiving end of such looks for the majority of her life, but she still felt that familiar flare of irritation. “Is something wrong, Mr. Driscoll?”

Predictably, he shook his head and flashed her a bright grin before shaking her hand. “No, no, of course not! How about a spot of breakfast before we ‘talk shop’ as you Americans say…”

Despite having had an incredibly restful sleep, (Y/N) was still feeling fatigued, something that Nick Driscoll didn’t seem to register; the boisterous man talked about anything and everything all through breakfast, and she found herself growing more annoyed by the minute. It is way too early in the morning for someone to be this energetic, (Y/N) thought to herself, finishing her second cup of tea and watching Nick loudly recount another war story with an unamused expression on her face. Feeling something nudge her foot, she glanced up and met Jack’s gaze in time to catch his apologetic smile; her heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture, and she returned it with a barely discernible shrug and a playful eye-roll.

“Ah, but all my old war stories pale in comparison to yours, old chap.” (Y/N) looked over at Nick as he talked through large bites of food. “A Navy Cross winner at only twenty-six! Have you heard the thrilling tale, Agent (Y/L/N)?”

“Yes, actually, I-”

“While he was in Okinawa, six Japanese soldiers snuck into his camp and were seconds away from killing his commanding officer when he shot them all down, saving the lives of his entire unit. It was all very heroic, from what I’ve heard, like something out of a motion picture!”

Her eyes flicked back to Jack and she furrowed her brow in concern as she took in his hardened eyes and tightened jaw. Quickly deciding that a change of topic was in order, (Y/N) loudly cleared her throat. “So, Agent Driscoll, I’m sure you know why we’ve come all this way and why we’ve asked to meet with you.”

Jack’s body slowly relaxed as Nick nodded. “Ah, yes, that redacted file I tracked down.”

“Could you tell us exactly how you found it?”

“Well, Jack here called me up towards the middle of July and asked me if MI5 had any redacted files on an ‘M. Carter’, said that the person had once been an agent during the war. So, I combed all our records – which took days, mind you – until I found two files; the first was a file detailing the service record of a Margaret Carter and the second was the redacted one I gave to you during our night out at the pubs.”

Frowning, Jack sat forward in his seat. “Was there anything unusual about the Margaret Carter file?”

“Not that I could tell. It was just standard background information on the field agent, and every sentence was clear and intact; no redactions whatsoever.”

(Y/N) twirled her fork around her fingers as she considered his words. “And other than the redactions, did you notice anything odd about the ‘M. Carter’ file? Any handwritten notes or penciled-in information?”

The older man shook his head. “No. There weren’t any written things on any of the pages.”

Nearly dropping the fork in surprise, (Y/N) instantly perked up at his words. “That’s strange, because the file in our possession’s filled with handwritten codes. Did the redacted file ‘M. Carter’ file ever leave your possession from the time you found it to the time you handed it over to Chief Thompson?”

Nick shook his head. “No, I had it with me the entire time. There really isn’t much else to say about it, I’ve told you both everything I know.”

(Y/N) and Jack exchanged matching looks of annoyance, knowing that they wouldn’t be getting any more information out of Agent Driscoll. They finished breakfast and bid the man goodbye before making their way back to their hotel suite, Jack flopping down on the couch while (Y/N) sat down at the desk with their papers.

“If you thought that guy was insufferable at breakfast, then you should see him after a few drinks.” Jack quipped from his spot on the couch, loosening his tie with an unimpressed look on his face. “The sloppiest goddamn drunk I’ve ever met.”

“I take it that he embellished all those Piccadilly Commandos stories?” (Y/N) playfully asked, slipping on her reading glasses and flicking through the files they’d brought along with them.

“You’re damn right he did! Everyone in my graduating class at Cornell knows that I’m the better drinker and the better fighter; trust me, I’ve had all the x-rays and plaster casts to prove it.” Her partner snorted in amusement, but soon grew serious once he looked over at her. “Sorry he was being such an ass to you when you told him you were the codebreaker.”

“It’s all right, Flyboy, I’m used to it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to be.” He jumped up from the couch and ran a frustrated hand through his hair as (Y/N) raised a brow in surprise. “I mean, why can’t a woman be a codebreaker? Or an SSR agent? He just…” He walked over to the window and shoved his hands into his pockets, staring out at the bustling street below for several moments before continuing. “Driscoll reminded me a little too much of the guy I used to be not too long ago, who I’ve tried to put behind me.”

Realization finally dawned on (Y/N); she slipped off her reading glasses and got up to stand beside him at the window. “You know, Jack, people aren’t born knowing right from wrong. They learn by observing others, and sometimes…sometimes it takes a while for them to realize that what they’ve observed for so long was wrong the whole time. At the end of the day, the important thing is that you came to that realization; most people never do.”

Jack glanced away from the window and met her gaze, his eyes softening as he joked, “You some kind of a philosopher now, Specs?”

“Yeah, I’m a regular old Socrates.” They both chuckled and (Y/N) gave him a smile before making her way back to the desk. “It’s not all bad, you know. Because of men like Driscoll, women like Peggy were able to become spies during the war and were almost never suspected to be working for the Allies; she was able to use her gender as the perfect built-in disguise.”

“That’s exactly what Leviathan did; they trained girls to be deadly assassins that you’d never…that you’d never see coming…” Jack froze in his tracks as his eyes widened in realization. “Son of a bitch!” He dashed across the room and grabbed the telephone handset, quickly dialing a number as he ran a hand through his hair again. “C’mon, pick up, pick up, pick up…”

“Jack, what’s wro-?”

“Driscoll! While you were waiting for me at that first pub, did you chat up any women?” Jack suddenly growled in frustration. “Focus up, Driscoll, this is important! Did any women approach you at the pub?” (Y/N) watched in utter confusion as he listened to the man speak on the other end, and she furrowed her brow in concern when his face paled. He dropped the handset back on the receiver without another word and he looked over at her with a stony expression on his face. “A woman at the pub bought him a drink while he was waiting for me. He doesn’t remember much except that she had dark hair and that her name was Dottie.”

(Y/N) gaped in shock. “You don’t really think…?”

“Yeah, I do; Dottie Underwood’s working for Michael Carter and the Secret Empire, and I think she swapped out the files at the pub,” Jack replied. “Michael Carter wanted someone to see that file and all his handwritten codes…”

“Why, though?” She sat down at the desk and looked down at the copy of the file in question. “And why shoot you to steal it back? Why would he go through all that just to have you killed?”

“Well, in my eyes it’s either one of two reasons: I wasn’t the person he wanted the file to end up with, or he went rogue.” Her partner’s frown deepened. “It’s possible that Michael’s trying to get away from the Secret Empire. He tried getting the file to his sister, who he knew had been stationed at Bletchley and studied codebreaking, and when his Secret Empire buddies discovered the leak they ordered the hit on me to cover it up and stole back what they thought was the only copy of the file in existence. This…this could be an SOS, Specs.”

She let out a small sigh. “Son of a bitch…”

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

London, England

Rubbing a hand over his still-tired eyes, Jack called out to (Y/N) in the other room, “Okay, we should probably go over everything again before we head out!”

“I’ll be there in a moment, I just need to put on my lipstick!”

Jack organized and spread all their files and papers across the top of the desk as he waited for his partner to finish getting ready, sighing through his nose when his eyes landed on the copy of Michael Carter’s original file. The newest break in the case, the possibility that Peggy’s brother was helping the SSR take down the Secret Empire from within, had set Jack and (Y/N) at odds with one another; while Jack was more willing to believe the theory, (Y/N) was highly skeptical of it, finding it hard to believe that the man who’d faked his death and committed was crimes for Hydra would change allegiances so quickly.

I guess it makes sense that she’d think that, he thought to himself as he glanced over at her closed bedroom door, she’s never done anything in her life to be ashamed of. Immediately, he regretted how envious his internal monologue had sounded; it wasn’t (Y/N)’s fault that he’d been awarded the Navy Cross for a terrible lie. But since meeting the codebreaker, it was difficult to refrain from comparing himself to her and the guilt that had been eating away at him for over two years had only steadily grown.

Before he could think on it some more, (Y/N) emerged from the bedroom and moved to lean against the side of the desk opposite of where he stood. “All right, where should we begin?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she looked up from the papers with a concerned frown. “Flyboy? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired…” Jack quickly replied, glancing away so that she wouldn’t realize that he’d been gawking at her from the moment she stepped out of her bedroom. She wore a sea-blue skirt and jacket with a matching fedora-styled hat, and her lips were colored with her signature red lipstick; sea-blue, his favorite color, flattered her figure and her lips had never looked so enticing to him. To distract himself from his own wandering thoughts, Jack cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s start with the Secret Empire itself.”

(Y/N) nodded. “All right. The Secret Empire was an organization within Hydra that was concerned with taking over the world by subversive means; while they were still attached to Hydra during the war, that meant funding their operations and diverting the SSR’s attention away from their activities whenever they could. It was rumored that they broke away from Hydra at the end of the war but thanks to our friend Mr. Hanson, we now know that to be fact; they formed their own group from the ground-up, using a copy of Howard’s stolen blueprints to manufacture devices for bank robberies, and then used the stolen gold to find their organization.”

“And Dottie Underwood, a Leviathan spy, somehow fits into all this.” Jack drummed his fingers against the desk. “When we finally arrested her in New York, she was leading a group of men in a bank robbery but she wasn’t after gold.”

“What was she trying to steal?”

“An Arena Club pin. Before I got shot, I found out that it was a key and I gave it to Peggy for safekeeping. You know, Underwood never told us who gave her the order to rob the bank; we all just assumed that it had been Leviathan but after her failure with Fennhoff, it would’ve been difficult to get back into Leviathan’s good graces.”

The codebreaker’s brow furrowed, a sign that she was lost in thought. “What if…? What if that bank robbery wasn’t just her chance at redemption, but also an olive branch from the Secret Empire? Think about it: the Secret Empire must’ve had a difficult time out on their own in post-war America, robbing banks one-by-one and partnering with crime bosses to earn their revenue; it’s a bit of a step down from the power and influence they had with Hydra. But since Hydra’s gone now the biggest threat out there’s Leviathan, so wouldn’t it be in their best interest to join up with them and in the process, help get rid of the Council of Nine as a potential rival?”

“But if that’s true then what’s their endgame? What exactly are they using the stolen gold to fund? What’s the significance of the key? And if Michael Carter really is trying to leave, then…?” Jack trailed off, noticing the way (Y/N) was pursing her lips. “What?”

She sighed. “I know how you feel about that theory, Flyboy, but until we have definitive proof we need to continue operating under the assumption that he’s the enemy. That’s what all the evidence we’ve collected so far points to.”

“Why’s it so hard for you to believe that someone could switch sides?” He demanded, a little annoyed by how closed her mind was on the subject. “You were the one who said that people aren’t born knowing right from wrong.”

“Yes, but this is different, Thompson! I saw first-hand the kinds of things Hydra did during the war. The torture, the human experimentation, the mass execution of civilians…? I saw the aftermath of it all.”

“You’re not the only one who was in the war, (Y/L/N), I saw my fair share of shit, too! I watched good men do terrible things out there in the Pacific that made me sick to my stomach, but I also understood that it was war. That doesn’t excuse or justify what they did, nothing ever could, but it doesn’t…it doesn’t mean they’re irredeemable. Besides, you didn’t see the way Michael looked in The Palladium; it was like he became a different person for a split-second, kind of like he’d woken up from a trance or something.”

Moving away from the desk, (Y/N) leaned a shoulder against the wall and sighed to herself. “According to the file, those are the things that Michael Carter had his hand in and even if it’s somehow wrong, you and I both watched as he shot a man dead in the middle of that same nightclub. As far as we know, he’s by no means innocent in all of this.”

Frustrated but wanting to avoid a fight, Jack nodded and looked back down at their papers. “Okay, what should we go over next?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Around midday, Jack and (Y/N) left their hotel and took a taxi to Knightsbridge, an upper-class district of London not far from Hyde Park. Jack spent their trip staring out the window, quietly admiring the still-rebuilding city that he’d never thought he’d get to see again; the one and only time he’d visited, it had been on the orders of Vernon Masters and he didn’t have any time to enjoy his trip. Not sure I’ll be able to enjoy it this go-around, he thought to himself as his eyes subtly flicked over to (Y/N) sitting beside him, but at least the company’s nice. In no time, their taxi came to a stop in front of a large and ornate building.

“Good afternoon, sir, madam.” The doorman greeted Jack and (Y/N) as they got out of their taxi, allowing them to step into the entryway before holding out his hand. “Your membership card, sir, if you please.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Once we verify your membership to the Special Forces Club, then we can provide you and your wife with accommodations.” The doorman patiently explained, his focus entirely on Jack as he spoke.

Jack’s jaw clenched in anger and he gestured to (Y/N) standing beside him. “She’s the one with the SFC membership, and we’re only here to visit the records room.”

Taking note of Jack’s barely-contained irritation at his assumptions, the doorman stammered out a hasty apology before turning to (Y/N) and examining the membership card in her hand; he felt (Y/N) rest a placating hand on his arm as she explained their visit’s purpose to the nervous-looking man and once he stepped aside to allow them in, Jack shot the doorman a hard glare and followed (Y/N) down the hall.

“We’re here for information, Flyboy, not to start a fight.” The codebreaker spoke lowly, giving him a sideways glance as they got into the elevator. “I think the records room is on the top floor…”

“How’s it you’re even a member of this club? Seems to me like it’s just a place for stuffed shirts to re-live their old war stories.”

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “Well, it sort of is; it was founded in 1945 on the order of the last Chief of the SOE, Major General Sir Colin Gubbins. It’s intended to be a meeting place for former SOE, OSS and other intelligence organizations in Canada, New Zealand and Australia, similar to an old fashioned gentleman’s club. It became more popular when the SOE was officially disbanded earlier last year.”

Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. “But why isn’t the SSR a part of this club? They’re a wartime intelligence organization, too.”

“The SFC doesn’t recognize them because they were created by the Allies to strictly combat Hydra, not the broader Axis Powers; in their eyes, the SSR’s too niche for them.” She shrugged noncommittally, giving him a lopsided grin as the elevator continued its travel. “Believe me, I had absolutely no desire to ever visit the SFC before our case; I don’t exactly fit in with the crowd here.”

“’Cause you’re a woman?”

“No,” The elevator stopped on the third floor and the doors opened, revealing a smoke-filled lounge and a handful of rowdy men clinking their glasses together. “Because I don’t derive any enjoyment from re-living my old war days.”

The boisterous group of men began filing into the small elevator, still chatting away and enjoying their drinks; so as to share the space, (Y/N) moved closer to Jack’s side and while the doors slid shut, he noticed a couple of the men glancing over at her with interest. A surge of protectiveness quickly came over him and he wrapped an arm around her waist before gently tugging her closer to his side, glaring at the ogling men from over the top of her hat. They seemed to get the hint, quickly throwing themselves into conversation as if the two of them weren’t there.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor and the men filed out, silence filling the space as Jack and (Y/N) were left alone once again. With some reluctance, Jack removed his arm from her waist and adjusted the tilt of his fedora, using the action to hide the look of disappointment that was likely gracing his features. Shortly after, their elevator came to a stop on the top floor and the doors slid open to reveal the entrance of a records room.

Once (Y/N) showed the desk clerk her membership card, they were allowed into an enormous room lined with endless rows of metal filing cabinets and several long tables set in the middle. They hung their hats and coats up on a coat rack and exchanged a weary glance before setting out to find any more information, classified or otherwise, on Michael Carter’s activities during the war. If any place is going to have the answers to some of our questions about Peggy’s older brother it’s this one, Jack thought with a small sigh as he followed (Y/N) down a row of cabinets.

They searched for what felt like hours, walking up and down each row of metal filing cabinets and scanning their individual labeling cards. Jack entertained himself by whistling and discussing different films with his partner, having recently learned of her fondness for motion pictures. Their conversation soon shifted from listing off their favorites to comparing and contrasting the various films that had been shipped out to them during the war.

“Yankee Doodle Dandy was a good one, but I remember thinking that it was a little strange not seeing James Cagney playing a gangster.” (Y/N) flashed Jack a smile before examining the label of the cabinet beside her. “Did you ever see Buck Privates?”

“The Abbot and Costello flick? Nope, but I’ve heard of it; the Andrews Sisters are in it, aren’t they?” He rolled his eyes in amusement when she shrugged noncommittally. “I swear, Specs, I think you’re obsessed with those gals…”

“What, jealous that I have a better taste in music than you do, Flyboy? What about The Bells of Saint Mary’s? I’ve always loved Ingrid Bergman’s films, and Bing Crosby was excellent in it.”

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked. “That’s the one where the priest and the nun fall in love, right? Yeah, I think that was one of the last ones I saw before I shipped home.”

“You sure we watched the same film? They don’t fall in love, they gain a mutual respect for one another by the end.” (Y/N) shot him a befuddled glance as they turned down another aisle. “Hollywood wouldn’t dare produce a film where a priest and a nun have romantic feelings for one another, you know that.”

“Not explicitly, yeah, but there sure was a helluva lotta subtext in it.” He countered. “It’s like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, except it’s the church and their devotion to it that keeps them apart, not their families.”

(Y/N) stopped and looked at him with a brow raised in challenge. “It sounds to me like you’re a fan of forbidden romances.”

Shrugging, Jack stared down at the codebreaker and smiled. “Well, they can be pretty fun sometimes; not knowing how or when it’ll end makes it all the more interesting, Specs. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sounds a little dangerous to me,” She quietly spoke, but her eyes never left his. “And there’s a lot to lose in romances like that.”

Jack, feeling himself leaning down a little closer to her, only grinned more at her words. “But there’s a whole lot more to be gained and besides…I like a little danger.” His eyes drifted away from hers to glance at her enticing lips and he realized that she was beginning to move closer as well. “(Y/N), I-”

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”

He and (Y/N) hastily jumped apart, looking over at the dark-haired man standing at the end of the row; the man was classically handsome, with a chiseled jaw and bright green eyes, and he was smiling bemusedly as he strode over to them. Jack felt a pang of annoyance when he noticed the way the man was looking at the codebreaker beside him.

“There was talk that a female codebreaker was visiting the club this afternoon; I’d been hopin’ that it would be you, darlin’.” The man looked over at Jack and raised a curious brow. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Chief Thompson of the SSR.” Jack didn’t look, but he could tell by (Y/N)’s voice that she wasn’t happy to see the man either. “Chief Thompson, this is Calvin Huntington; he and I briefly worked together at the OSS during the war.”

“Good to meet you, Thompson!” Calvin shook his hand with a firm grasp, but his grin tightened a little as he continued. “I didn’t think your little wartime agency was still operational; I’m with the CIA, of course, stationed here in London. If you ever wanna move on from the SSR, I could always put in a good word for you.”

Smug son of a bitch, Jack thought to himself as he replied, “Thanks, but I’m happy with where I’m at. We both are, actually.”

(Y/N) stiffened beside him just as Calvin glanced over at her in surprise. “You’re with the SSR again, (Y/N)? That’s a shock, considerin’ what happened in-”

“I’m so sorry, Agent Huntington, but my partner and I are working a very time-sensitive case so if you’ll excuse us…” She hurriedly explained, not sounding sorry at all by her abruptness.

Calvin only grinned. “Of course, I’ll see you both later when you’re finished.” He turned to leave but stopped himself, looking back at (Y/N) with a flirtatious wink. “And it’s Cal, darlin’.”

Neither of them said anything until the sound of Calvin’s footsteps faded away, when (Y/N) groaned in frustration and rubbed at her temples. “Just my luck that I run into that bastard my first time back in England…”

“Who the hell was that guy?” Jack asked, still annoyed at the man’s obvious flirting. “He looked like he could’ve used a good sock to the jaw.”

The corner of her mouth twitched before she sighed. “I whole-heartedly agree; Huntington and I joined the OSS around the same time, and I learned pretty quickly that he was the type of guy who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He asked me out on a date six different times before I was thankfully loaned out to the SSR; I thought I’d seen the last of him after that, but on one of our nights off I was at a pub with Peggy and he walked in. He cornered me near the restroom but before anything could happen, Bucky – Sergeant Barnes of the Howling Commandos – intervened and had him thrown out of the pub.”

“Sergeant Barnes, huh?”

“Yep. After that, he introduced me to Steve Rogers and once they found out I was an SSR codebreaker…” (Y/N) shrugged to herself as they continued their search. “If you think about it, then I guess I have Calvin Huntington to thank for my role as the personal codebreaker of the Howling Commandos.”

Jack nodded before furrowing his brow in confusion. “But what’d he mean when he said he was shocked to-?”

“Ah, here it is!” (Y/N) brushed past him and reached for the handle of a nearby filing cabinet, tugging the drawer open and beginning to flick through the various files. “Cadonwell, Callet…Carter.” He stood beside her as she pulled out three separate files labeled with the familiar surname and flicked through them. “This one’s on a guy named Albert L. Carter.” She handed it to Jack and he put it back in the filing cabinet. “This one looks like Peggy’s standard service record during the war.” Again, Jack returned it to its spot and turned back to her as she slipped on her reading glasses and began scanning the third and final file. “And this one…”

Jack furrowed his brow in concern when he took note of (Y/N)’s ashen face and widened eyes. “What? What’s it say?” Instead of answering, the codebreaker handed him the open file and he quickly began examining its contents; it was a chronicle of a classified SOE-led mission, starting near the end of 1940, and Jack soon realized (Y/N)’s shock when he read further down the page. “Carter was a double agent?!” He looked up at (Y/N) in surprise. “The SOE ordered him to infiltrate Hydra all the way back in 1940 and were the ones responsible for faking his death. But why?”

“The SSR wasn’t created by the Allies until 1941, so this could’ve been England’s first attempt at stopping Schmidt and the rest of Hydra before the U.S. officially entered the war.” (Y/N) reasoned, her brow knit together in concentration. “According to this file, every terrible thing Michael did during the war was on the orders of the SOE; he was forced to comply with Hydra’s demands to keep his cover and…but wait, the SOE doesn’t exist anymore as of last year. Why’s he still operating with the Secret Empire even after its dismantling?”

“Maybe he tried to get out, but the Secret Empire’s forcing him to stay somehow. Maybe Hydra discovered he was a double agent towards the end of the war and decided to experiment on him; whatever they did could’ve been enough to brainwash him into staying.” Jack shrugged, his eyes trailing further down to the bottom of the page, where someone had penciled in a random sequence of numbers and letters. “Dammit, not another code…”

(Y/N) sighed to herself and took off her reading glasses. “Yep, and there’s more. Smell the page.”

“’Scuse me?”

“The page, Flyboy. Give it a whiff.” A little confused, Jack leaned down and sniffed the page, instantly recoiling when the putrid smell hit his nose. “Urine’s one of the world’s oldest ways to write an invisible message.”

“All right, then,” Taking the file from her, Jack closed it and began walking back to where their hats and coats were hanging. “Time to go, Specs.”

The codebreaker hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Thompson, what the hell are you doing?! We can’t just steal-!”

“We’re not stealing, we’re borrowing.” He briskly corrected, tucking the file into the back waistband of his slacks before putting on his fedora and coat. “‘Sides, the SOE never bothered telling the SSR about their undercover agent so why should we tell the old geezers here about our case?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed (Y/N) rolling her eyes in exasperation as she threw on her hat and coat. “You worry too much.”

That made the corner of her lips curl into a teasing half-smile. “Well, somebody’s got to have some common sense in this partnership and it sure as hell isn’t you…”

They thanked the desk clerk and got into the elevator, Jack walking with slow purpose and (Y/N) trying and failing not to let her hands nervously fidget too much. If it weren’t for that small tell she’d make a damn good spy, Jack thought with fondness as the elevator traveled downwards. Thankfully, the elevator’s journey was uninterrupted and in no time, its doors slid open to reveal the bottom floor. They walked down the hallway of the Special Forces Club and were almost to the front doors when a voice called out to them.

“Hey there, darlin’!” They turned and watched as Calvin Huntington strode towards them from one of the lounges; (Y/N) tensed beside Jack, and he felt his jaw tighten as the man’s eyes stared hungrily down at her. “I was hopin’ I’d catch you on your way out! Say, how ‘bout I take you out on the town tonight? You and I could re-live the good old days, if you know what I mean.”

“No, thank you, Agent Huntington.”

As they both began to walk away, Calvin’s hand shot out and grabbed (Y/N)’s upper arm. “C’mon, you look like you could use a little-”

“The lady said no, Huntington,” Jack stood taller as he glowered darkly at the man. “So I suggest you let her go. Now.”

Calvin dropped his hand to his side with a chuckle, but his green eyes narrowed as he exclaimed, “Well, I see that (Y/N) traded in her Sergeant for a Lieutenant Junior Grade!” Jack stiffened and Calvin’s smirk widened. “Yeah, I know who you are; I remember an MI5 buddy of mine tellin’ me all ‘bout the college friend who won himself a shiny medal in Okinawa before joinin’ the SSR. A little free advice, pal: even a big bad sailor like you couldn’t handle that dame and all her baggage-”

“Shut your goddamn mouth-”

“-‘Specially after that whole mess in Düsseldorf.”

Jack’s hands tightly curled into fists but before he could say or do anything, (Y/N) grabbed his arm and began tugging him towards the door. “Come on, Jack, he’s not worth it.”

He complied with her plea, turning towards the door as Calvin angrily called out, “Just thought I should warn a war hero like you ‘bout sleepin’ with a treasonous bitc-” The man didn’t get a chance to finish his insult, as Jack had spun back around and punched him square in the jaw; he immediately dropped to the floor, unconscious from the powerful hit.

As people began poking their heads out of the lounge, Jack glanced over at a stunned (Y/N). “Okay, let’s go.” He placed his sore hand on the small of her back as they left the building, his fury only rivaled by the feeling of satisfaction at successfully stealing the SOE file and decking the son of a bitch who’d insulted the woman he secretly loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, Jack was getting ready for bed when there was a quiet knock on his bedroom door. “Yeah?”

The door opened and (Y/N) entered; she was dressed in a set of floral satin pajamas, and there was a tentative expression on her face as she finally spoke. “The other night you offered to listen to me talk about my nightmare. Does…does that offer still stand?”

“Yeah, of course, but if you’re not ready to-”

“I’m ready.” Her eyes shone with determination and Jack nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed and carefully watching her as she moved to sit against the headboard. The codebreaker wrapped her arms around her knees and took a deep breath before continuing. “I was six when my father finally stopped using opiates and my baby brother was born. They named him Alfred (Y/L/N) the Third, but I called him Freddie; I should’ve been jealous that my parents cared more about him than me, since he was their only son and all, but I just couldn’t be. He was such a cheerful baby and when he got older, when he realized exactly how terrible our parents were, he started to idolize me.” (Y/N) smiled a little to herself. “I remember that when he was in fourth grade, he had to write a theme about his hero and he wrote about me. I was the one who taught him to play baseball and I helped tutor him, even when I was swamped with my own schoolwork. Freddie was one of the only ones who was excited to see me go to Stanford and then to Bletchley; he’d write to me, always eager to hear about my job and happy that I was doing something I enjoyed, but he also talked about wanting to join the Army. In 1943, he got his wish when he was drafted into the 222^nd Infantry Regiment, and I quickly got a letter from my parents begging me to look out for him; I wrote back and promised that I would.”

Jack’s brow furrowed in concern as he watched her take another steadying breath. “You don’t have to force yourself to tell me the rest, (Y/N).”

His partner ignored his words, her eyes still trained on her knees as she continued. “About two weeks after Steve Rogers went missing over the Atlantic, the Howling Commandos were reassigned to assist with Operation Undertone, a part of the Allied Invasion of Germany; I went with them and decoded top-secret Nazi messages, which were mostly orders to abandon or destroy their factories and bases. Towards the end of March, I was given new orders to remain in Saarbrücken with the OSS and decode backlogged messages, since it was apparent that the operation was a success; I followed orders, but I also continued secretly decoding any messages related to Operation Undertone. That’s when I discovered a correspondence between two Nazi commanders, detailing plans to attack the 222^nd Infantry Regiment when they arrived in Düsseldorf to liquidate its factories.” (Y/N)’s voice began to waiver as she continued. “By the time I decoded it, there was less than twelve hours until the scheduled attack and when I tried warning my superior officers…all those men told me that I was being hysterical and they wouldn’t listen; I even tried contacting Howard for help, but he was in the Atlantic personally overseeing the search for Steve’s remains and refused to leave. So, I defied orders, stole an Army Jeep and drove up to Düsseldorf myself…but I was too late; sixteen men died in an explosion at one of the city’s factories…including Freddie.”

“…(Y/N), that…that wasn’t your fault. You know that, right? You did everything you could to prevent it.”

She shrugged, looking over at him with tear-filled eyes. “Isn’t it, though? My commanding officers at the OSS blamed me for not trying hard enough to inform them about the attack, and they made it very clear that if I were a man, I would’ve been court-martialed for disobeying direct orders. My parents blamed me, too. When I shipped back home after the war, they slammed the front door in my face and haven’t spoken to me since. Suffice it to say, I know very well whose fault it was.”

Seeing the normally confident and self-assured codebreaker looking so broken made something within Jack snap. He moved so that he was sitting directly in front of her on the bed and held her gaze as he replied, “No, you don’t. You’re blaming yourself for something you had absolutely no control over. Those asshole commanding officers were the ones who didn’t listen to your warning and as for your parents, they never should’ve forced you to make a promise they knew you couldn’t keep.” (Y/N) remained silent, so Jack reached a hand out and rested it on one of her own. “The only way for you to go on is to quit taking responsibility for the actions of others.”

“…But what if I can’t?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curved into a small smile. “You’re the smartest, most stubborn gal I’ve ever met, (Y/N). I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t do once you’ve put that mind of yours to it.” She let out a watery laugh at that. “And I know that I’ve never met him but…but from the way you talked about him, I think that Freddie would agree with me.” Seeing fresh tears beginning to well in her eyes, Jack reached forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her close all through the night.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

Kent, England

“Now I remember why I enjoy living in Los Angeles.” (Y/N) grumbled, switching on the windshield wipers and squinting through the down-pouring of rain. “Don’t you just hate the rain sometimes?”

Jack shrugged beside her, his nose buried in a large map as he replied, “Yeah, I guess so. This rain’s pretty tame compared to the stuff we got in the Pacific, though; that was like takin’ a hot shower in the middle of a humid summer. Definitely not something I missed when I shipped back home.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You’re right, that sounds a whole lot worse. How much farther until the turnoff?”

“It should be coming up in less than a mile-urgh, sorry, kilometer, and it should be somewhere on your left.”

They continued driving through the rain, the comfortable silence between them only permeated by the sounds of the rental car’s radio signal cutting in and out. Their visit to the SFC had been more fruitful than either of them predicted it would; for one, they managed to steal an entire classified file detailing Michael Carter’s undercover mission within Hydra and for another, that file contained not one but two hidden messages. One was in the form of a code while the other had been written in invisible ink; as it turned out, the final code from ‘M. Carter’s’ file that had stumped (Y/N) for so long was actually a cypher for the code on their newly-acquired file. It had taken (Y/N) nearly a week of staring at various number and letter sequences to crack it, only to be left with straightforward coordinates that led directly to Gravesend, Kent.

Unfortunately, the invisible message hadn’t been quite as useful to them; (Y/N) and a slightly-disgusted Jack had used a candle to heat the urine-covered page and reveal a paragraph of code but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t decode it. She and Jack had poured over all her translation journals and brainstormed every possible style of code but it looked like nothing she’d ever seen before; the code didn’t even resemble any of the ones Michael had invented to conceal his intel. Maybe Peggy and I can work on it together once we return to the States, she thought with an inward sigh, frustrated that she couldn’t use the skills she’d spent years honing and perfecting to help further their case.

“You’re kinda quiet over there, Specs. Everything okay?”

Glancing over at the man beside her, (Y/N) nodded and gave him a fleeting smile before turning her attention back to the road, feeling her face beginning to warm at his concerned tone. “Just lost in thought, that’s all.”

Something had shifted between her and Jack after she’d confided in him about Freddie’s death; he’d been more considerate and thoughtful whenever they spoke, a far cry from the smug and self-assured man she’d first met all those months ago, and for nearly a week now they’d slept together in the same bed. They’d often joke that it was because their hotel suite was too drafty but (Y/N) knew that it was really because sharing a bed had resulted in the best sleep either of them had experienced in a long while. When their unspoken arrangement had first begun, she’d warned herself not to get used to it but she’d failed spectacularly in that regard; as much as she wanted to solve the case for Peggy’s sake, she was dreading the day when Jack would inevitably return to his old life as Chief of the New York SSR and she’d be left alone once again.

“You sure you’re okay? You’ve got that little line between your eyebrows that you only get whenever you’re worried ‘bout something.” (Y/N) looked over at him in surprise and he merely shrugged. “It’s another one of your tells, Specs, along with fidgeting your hands.”

“Geez, remind me never to play poker with you.” She chuckled to herself before looking back at the road. “I was just thinking about these coordinates. Why would Michael bother coding the coordinates of a small town like Gravesend?

Her partner shrugged beside her. “I’ve got no idea, but that’s why we’ve come prepared for anything.” He patted the shoulder holster that was hidden underneath his navy-colored raincoat; her own gun was tucked into her clutch, alongside her various lock-picking tools, her tube of 103-Forget Me Not lipstick and the camera-pen Howard had lent her before they’d left Los Angeles.

In no time, they reached the small town of Gravesend and the heavy rain had thankfully lightened to a faint drizzle as she parked the car. There weren’t many people outside but just to be on the safe side, (Y/N) and Jack walked arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, looking every part the happily married couple; their cover allowed them to easily observe and investigate the town without drawing suspicion, and to keep up appearances, they engaged in small talk as they walked but their focus was entirely on their reconnaissance…well, almost entirely.

“I’m serious, Flyboy, I think it’s very sweet that you call your grandmother ‘Gam-Gam!'” (Y/N) insisted, watching as her partner’s blush deepened. The nickname had slipped out when he’d made an offhand comment about one of the houses looking like his grandmother’s, much to his embarrassment and her amusement. “Listen, would it make you feel better if you knew that I have a special nickname for my grandmother? If I tell you what it is, though, you’d better not blabber to anyone else in the office about it…”

Jack raised a challenging brow at her. “Okay, then. What do you call your grandmother?”

“I call her ‘Ram’, because when I was little I couldn’t pronounce certain letters very well.” Her own face flushed as Jack’s azure eyes twinkled with amusement. “There, are you happy now?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I just…” He trailed off, his expression growing serious as he nodded his head towards something in the distance. “I think we just found out why these coordinates are important, Specs.”

Furrowing her brow in confusion, (Y/N) followed his line of sight and nearly gasped aloud at what she saw; at the end of the street stood a sign that read ‘Attwell Airfield’ and an arrow pointing towards the right. “Well, I’ll be damned…” She looked up at Jack and quirked her brow. “How do you feel about a little snooping around?”

“You took the words right outta my mouth.”

When they were sure that no one was looking their way, (Y/N) and Jack made their way down the end of the road and turned right; they walked down the road for several meters before they came across a small path that led off into a line of trees and bushes. Exchanging a look, they followed the path and slowly made their way through the vegetation towards the direction of the airfield.

“Strange that an airfield was never mentioned in any of the files we got on Thomas Attwell,” Jack commented, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of trouble. “You think it’s new?”

“It’s possible. If I were heading the new Secret Empire, I’d certainly want a private means of traveling.” Shrugging, (Y/N) ducked underneath a low-hanging tree branch and glanced over at her partner walking beside her. “It’s also possible that it’s been around for a while now. Thomas Attwell’s brother was an R.A.F. pilot during the war, remember? It could be family-owned, like the orangery back in Los Angeles.”

They continued their trek through the forest of trees, soon reaching the edge of the vegetation; careful to conceal themselves behind the trunk of a wide tree, they examined the airfield; it was on the small side, similar to descriptions she’d heard of the one Howard owned in New Jersey. The airfield’s hangar was only a few dozen meters away from the tree line but from their spot, it was impossible to see if any planes were situated inside of it.

Just as (Y/N) opened her mouth to suggest they get a closer look, two men dressed in tactical gear and holding rifles rounded both corners of the hangar; they passed by each other right in front of the building’s back door and disappeared around each corner. When she looked over at Jack, he was alternating between looking down at his wristwatch and back up at the corners the two guards had appeared from; without glancing away from his task, her partner quietly asked, “How fast can you pick a lock?”

“Between two and five minutes, depending on the type of lock.”

He nodded. “That’ll have to do. When I give the signal, follow my lead.”

The two of them waited with bated breath until finally, the guards appeared around the corners again. They remained still as the two guards disappeared from view, only moving when Jack motioned with his hand to go; they quietly hurried to the hangar’s back door, and (Y/N) knelt down in front of it to determine which tools she’d need while Jack kept watch beside her with his gun at the ready. It was a sturdier lock than the one she’d picked at Fieldman Family Orangery – obviously she’d need to use something better than a hairpin – but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. Hurriedly rifling through her crowded purse, she selected the appropriate tools and quickly went about picking the lock, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. After a tense minute or two, the door unlocked with a faint click; since she knew that their time was running out, she jumped to her feet and followed Jack through the doorway, careful to close the door shut behind them.

“Storage room,” Jack lowly stated, his gun at the ready as they crept between rows of plane components and mechanic’s tools; careful not to make any noise, (Y/N) pulled her gun and camera pen out of her clutch before cramming it into her raincoat’s pocket. “This way.”

He led them through the storage room and through an open doorway into a larger, less cluttered space; the cavernous room was nearly empty save for a row of large wooden crates, the sides of which were stamped with the familiar horse-and-vine symbol of the new Secret Empire. Once they made their way over to the crates, Jack holstered his gun and carefully pried the lid off of one of them.

“Looks like we’ve finally found all that stolen gold.” (Y/N) glanced up from the stacked and marked gold bars, meeting her partner’s gaze with a raised brow; he nodded and watched as she used the camera pen to take several pictures, replacing the lid while she tucked the camera pen into her other pocket.

The sound of approaching footsteps forced the two of them to hastily drop behind the crate, and they both held their breaths as a man called out, “Okay, this is the last of it; you guys go grab the others while I let the boss know we’re about done loading the plane.”

“C’mon, let’s move.” Jack quietly spoke as the voices and footsteps faded away, and they both hurried across the large room to a set of metal stairs; since they couldn’t go the same way the voices were coming from, they immediately climbed the stairs and ducked into the room behind the windowed door. When it was clear that they were alone, they lowered their guns and took in their surroundings; the room was on the smaller side, with a desk pushed against one wall laden with various radio equipment and papers, and across from it was a massive window. “All clear; looks like a radio room.”

Already reaching into her pocket for her camera pen, (Y/N) tiptoed to the desk and examined the papers strewn across its surface; there were several telegrams and documents but what instantly drew her attention was a marked map, the edges of which were filled in with sequences of random numbers.

“They’re loading it into a cargo plane,” She looked over to where Jack stood by the windows and met his concerned gaze. “All that gold’s gonna be headed somewhere real soon and I’d bet anything it’s going to Leviathan. We need to find out exactly where that plane’s going, fast.”

Careful not to disturb any of the papers too much, (Y/N) began snapping photographs of them with the camera pen. She was in the middle of taking a photograph of the unusual map when all of a sudden, the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the hangar and was soon punctuated by the shattering of the radio room’s window, causing her entire body to freeze up in shock.

“Get down!” Jack shouted out and before she could even think to move, he tackled her to the floor and covered her body with his own as more gunshots rang out and glass rained down on them. Raising his head a few inches, her partner’s eyes frantically searched hers and his free hand shot up to shield her face from more shattering glass. “Are you hit?”

“I’m fine, but we need to go!” They both crawled over to the window once he rolled off of her, mindful of the glass while they both clutched their guns in their hands. Their backs were pressed against the wall and gunshots continued to ring out as (Y/N) got an idea. “You go back around to the hangar while I draw their fire!”

Jack didn’t look too happy about it but since there was no time to argue he nodded, keeping low to the ground as he made his way to the radio room’s door. She moved so that she stood beside the broken window and waited until Jack left the room to peek around the window’s edge and opening fire, managing to hit two guards before she was forced to duck for cover.

“Dammit, these guys just don’t quit.” (Y/N) grumbled to herself, darting around to fire off a couple more shots and moving back just in time to avoid the fresh barrage of bullets. She didn’t dare look, but she heard the sounds of a scuffle breaking out in the hangar below and assumed that it was Jack taking care of the guards. He certainly took his time there, she thought as she finally released the breath she’d been holding.

“Well, you’re certainly not who I expected to see.” Whirling around, (Y/N) raised her gun at the smirking dark-haired woman standing in the open doorway; the woman’s brow rose, seemingly unperturbed by the gun pointed directly at her chest. “That’s too bad, I’d hoped that Peggy and I would get a chance to catch up.”

A chill went down (Y/N)’s spine at her words and her fingers tightened around the handle of her gun. “Dottie Underwood. So, it’s true, you’ve begun working for the Secret Empire.”

Dottie smirked. “Begun? Oh, honey, we’ve been friendly for quite a while now, ever since they commissioned me to steal from a New York bank’s safety deposit box.”

“The Arena Club pin? The Secret Empire was behind that?”

The Russian spy rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation. “Yes, that’s what I just said. You SSR types are pretty dense, aren’t you?”

“Not dense, just very thorough.” (Y/N) held her gun higher. “Dorothy Underwood, you’re under arrest.” With a quirk of her brow, Dottie took a step forward. “If you take another step, I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

“Do you wanna hear a secret, Agent (Y/L/N)? You’re all out of bullets.”

Squeezing the trigger of her gun, (Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise when it only made a faint click. Dottie took full advantage of her shock, kicking the gun out of her hand and striking her hard in the stomach with her heeled shoe; (Y/N) flew backwards and landed hard on her back, and she scrambled to her feet as the Russian assassin moved in for another attack. (Y/N) blocked her punch and yanked her down before kneeing her in the torso. Recovering quickly, Dottie backhanded her face and grabbed her arm, flipping her over her shoulder and onto her back once again.

The wind was instantly knocked out of (Y/N)’s lungs and while she laid their coughing, Dottie stood over her with a taunting smirk on her face. “You’re too easy; Peggy would’ve at least made it a challenge.”

“We’ve got Thompson, Underwood, time to go!”

(Y/N)’s eyes darted over to the radio from where the familiar voice of Thomas Attwell had emitted, fear clutching at her chest as Dottie sighed in disappointment. “It’s been swell, Agent (Y/L/N), but I have a plane to catch.”

With a swift kick to (Y/N)’s side, the Russian assassin snatched up the papers on the desk and quickly fled the room; (Y/N) struggled to get to her feet and once she finally managed it, she clutched her stomach and limped over to the radio room’s broken window. There was a large cargo plane at the opposite end of the hangar, and she watched as Dottie strode up its extended ramp beside Attwell, who was carrying an unconscious Jack Thompson over his shoulder.

“No!”

Ignoring the pain of her injuries, (Y/N) hurried out of the radio room and down the metal stairs, stopping for a brief moment to grab one of the dead guard’s rifles before staggering into the hangar. The plane’s ramp had closed and it was already taxing down the runway; she aimed the rifle at one of the plane’s wheels and fired, cursing when the shot missed. In desperation, (Y/N) ran through the hangar as fast as she could but she was too late, for the plane had already taken off by the time she reached the hangar’s opening.

“Jack…Jack…” (Y/N) gasped out, her vision blurring with tears as she watched the plane disappear into the clouds; she felt something brush her foot and when she looked down, she recognized it as Jack’s fedora. Reaching down, she gently picked it up and after staring at it for several moments, she finally allowed herself to cry.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

Location: Unknown

Commander Jefferson Williams was the toughest man Jack had ever known, tougher than Chief Dooley and even tougher than his own father. The battle-hardened naval officer had imparted heaps of wisdom onto the countless men under his command during the war, but there was one piece of advice that Jack would never forget as long as he lived:

“OSA, boys, OSA. Observe, situate and adapt. Knowin’ those three things could mean the difference ‘tween life and death out here in the jungle so don’t you ever forget ‘em!”

When he joined the SSR after the war, Jack closely followed Williams’ advice and quickly rose through the ranks, becoming the second in command and eventually Chief of the New York branch. The advice had served him well over the years, but he never imagined in a million years that he’d be using it in a situation like the one he currently found himself in. The last thing he remembered before being knocked unconscious was dealing with the armed guards in the hangar and turning around to see the familiar smirking face of Thomas Attwell. Everything went dark after that, until he found himself blinking his eyes open and biting back a groan of pain.

Observe, Jack thought to himself as he slowly regained consciousness. He was in a darkened mid-sized room and what little light there was reflected off the metal walls; when he glanced down, he realized that he was sitting in a chair and his arms and legs were bound to it with ropes. The raincoat and fedora he’d been wearing were gone, so he could feel the biting air seeping into his limbs.

Situating himself was a little more challenging; the room had no windows, its only door was locked and with all the metal surrounding him, it was impossible to determine the outside weather. Attempting to focus his mind, Jack closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. It was after doing that for a handful of moments that he realized the floor was slightly shaking; like the floor of a subway car, he silently realized, or a moving train.

Before Jack could move to the third step, an overhead light flickered on and the metal door banged open to reveal two men and a woman. Dottie Underwood was smirking, presumably amused at seeing the man who’d once taken her down strapped to a chair and defenseless, and Thomas Attwell was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, making it clear to the self-described interrogation master of the SSR that he’d be getting a taste of his own medicine. But it was the man standing in front of them that Jack’s attention was instantly drawn to.

It was the first good look Jack had gotten of Michael Carter and while he was once again struck by just how much he looked like his little sister, he was even more surprised at how easy it was to get a read on him. Having hung around Peggy for as long as he had, he could tell when she was scheming and as he stared up into her older brother’s eyes, he knew in his gut that Michael was up to something.

The moment passed in the blink of an eye and Michael stepped further into the room, a hardened expression on his face. “So, you’re the Jack Thompson I’ve heard so much about.”

“And you’re Michael Carter.” Jack smirked a little despite his dire situation. “You’re lookin’ good for a dead guy.” He looked past Michael and raised a brow at his two companions. “Can’t say the same about your Commie pals, though.”

“Aw, I’ve missed you too, Blue Eyes.” With a wide smile, Underwood strode into the room and leaned against the wall beside him. “Surprised to see me?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders as best he could. “Not really. Vultures like you always tend to hang around rot like them.”

“Charming. Well, Chief Thompson, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here with us vultures,” Attwell’s narrowed eyes searched Jack’s, but he didn’t flinch under the man’s scrutinizing gaze. “And if you’re not, then you’re as arrogant of a man as Agent Cabrera claimed you were.”

Agent Cabrera’s the spy within the SSR, Jack thought with a sinking heart, his face remaining blank while his mind processed the shocking news; Cabrera had joined the SSR shortly after they’d apprehended Johann Fennhoff and he’d proven himself to be a skilled agent, so skilled that Jack had appointed him Acting Chief while he was away in Los Angeles. When it was revealed that the Secret Empire had a spy within the SSR, Jack hadn’t even considered that one of his best men back in New York was an enemy operative.

Attwell’s brow rose in surprise and he let out a low whistle. “Nothing? You’ve really got a lid on those emotions of yours, don’t you?” He glanced over at Michael with a smirk. “Perhaps he’ll talk if we pay a visit to Agent (Y/L/N) instead…”

Jack’s blood ran cold at the man’s taunt about (Y/N) but before he could react, Michael snapped, “If you and Underwood had done your jobs properly, then there wouldn’t be any need to worry about that. But no matter, Chief Thompson may prove to be useful on his own.” Turning back to Jack, Michael crossed his arms over his chest and continued. “We have it on good authority that you recently came into possession of a rather unique Arena Club pin. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack lied with ease; naturally, he wasn’t going to tell them that the pin had been in Peggy’s possession since before his shooting. With a tilt of his head, Jack asked, “What’s your little Secret Empire want with an Arena Club member pin anyway? You guys fixin’ on joining up with what’s left of the Council of Nine?”

“The Council of Nine was a collection of frightened old men playing at being in power and thanks to Miss Underwood here, their feeble-minded organization’s been destroyed beyond repair.” Michael replied, his expression unreadable as he continued. “Nevertheless, that group of geriatric capitalists held the key to the unification of the Secret Empire and Leviathan and now that they’re gone, there’s nothing to stand in our way…except you. So I’ll ask you again, Chief Thompson: Where is the Arena Club pin?”

Jack’s eyes never left Michael’s as he frostily replied, “I. Don’t. Know.”

Nodding, Michael glanced over at Underwood and gestured towards the door. “Miss Underwood, would you be kind enough to inform your associates that we’re en route?”

“And miss all the swell fun here?” Underwood smirked. “Oh, not a chance.”

“Would you prefer that I contact them instead and inform them that their disobedient operative’s refused to comply?” Attwell challenged, and the grin on Underwood’s face slowly faded; shooting the man a dirty look, Underwood strode out of the small room and Attwell closed the door behind her. “She’s becoming a challenge to control.”

“Once we finally join with Leviathan, she won’t be our problem anymore.” Looking back down at Jack, Michael quirked a brow and smiled. “Now, Agent Cabrera made mention of the fact that you’re considered to be a highly-skilled interrogator at the SSR; he also said that you’d prove to be ‘a tough nut to crack.’ Let’s put that to a test, shall we?”

As Thomas Attwell’s fist made contact with Jack’s jaw, the last thing that flashed through his mind before the pain was (Y/N)’s beautiful smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack wasn’t sure how long his interrogation lasted, or even how he’d ended up out of his chair and sprawled on the floor of the room; all he could think about was the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. His left eye was beginning to swell shut, his jaw felt like raw meat, the blood dripping from his nostrils had finally ebbed…and that’s just what they did to his face. Attwell had held some sort of device to his neck that sent painful waves of electrical currents throughout his body, more painful than anything Jack had ever experienced in his life. The only thing giving him the strength to endure it all was (Y/N) and as his head sagged forward, all he could do was be grateful that they’d gotten ahold of him and not her.

“Shall we continue, or should we give Chief Thompson a chance to catch his breath?”

“We’ll let his wounds begin to heal and then continue where we left off. That should give us enough time to begin tracking down Agent (Y/L/N); it’s become apparent that he requires more…incentive to talk.”

With all the strength he had left, Jack raised his head and spat out, “You touch her and I’ll kill you both.”

Both men looked unfazed by his threat, and Michael leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll watch him while you and Underwood contact her fellow operatives back in England.” Attwell looked as though he was about to argue, but Michael quickly cut him off with a sharp glare. “This is a result of your blunder, Thomas, so it’s your responsibility to fix it. We need that key to solidify our relationship with Leviathan and to give them the weapon they desire; otherwise, this all will have been for nothing.”

They stared at one another for several moments before Attwell clenched his jaw and stormed out of the room. Michael watched him go with a look of indifference on his face but when the door slammed shut, his expression twisted for a split-second before relaxing.

In that moment, all the pieces finally fell into place for Jack; the gunshot in the office of The Palladium, the door banging open and then slamming shut…all loud noises that occurred right before the cracks in Michael’s tough façade. It’s gotta be some sort of trigger, Jack thought through the haze of pain, which means that he really was brainwashed. Before joining the SSR, a notion like that would’ve made him scoff but now, something as crazy as mind-control wasn’t just theoretical, it was highly probable. With a plan forming in his mind, Jack let his body go slack on the floor and his eyelids begin fluttering.

“It would seem that Agent Cabrera was mistaken about you, Chief Thompson,” Through his lashes, Jack watched Michael snort in derision and push himself off of the wall. “You’re weak. Simple-minded, too, if you believe that we won’t succeed in making you talk.” He knelt down beside Jack and smirked. “Perhaps when Agent (Y/L/N) arrives, we’ll-”

Jack lunged forward, tackling a surprised Michael to the ground and grabbing a fistful of his dark brown hair before slamming his head down onto the ground; the man’s eyes were unfocused as his face tightened in discomfort and as Jack watched, his expression slowly shifted from anger to confusion. Still cautious, he didn’t stop pinning Michael to the ground as he commanded, “Tell me who you are!”

“Michael…Michael Carter, SOE.” Michael’s brow furrowed and he squeezed his eyes closed as he grimaced. “Thank God you cracked my codes in time. Please, I don’t know how long this’ll last so-”

“Not until I know which Michael I’m talking to…What’s the reason why your sister was almost expelled from boarding school?”

Michael’s brown eyes opened and the ghost of a smile slowly stretched across his face. “Peggy…Peggy was caught stealing the headmaster’s brandy and his wife’s knickers. Mother and Father were livid, but I secretly gifted her a congratulatory bottle of brandy that Christmas.”

Satisfied with his answer, Jack staggered to his feet and stifled a wince of pain. “You can’t read that in a file.”

“Is Peggy all right? She’s still in America?” Jack nodded and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ve been trying to keep regular tabs on her for months now, but it’s been a challenge to hide my work from the others and…well, myself.”

He didn’t take his eyes off of the man sprawled on the ground before him, wary of any kind of treachery. “What happened to you during the war?”

“In 1940, the SOE ordered me to infiltrate Hydra; they faked my death, gave me a new identity but I was found out in ’44. My…” Michael groaned, clutching the side of his head as he stood. “My university flatmate’s brother, Thomas, he was a Hydra operative; he let their scientists experiment on me, scrambling my brain so that I’d become their mindless killing machine with no memories of my old life.”

Jack, whose eyes had begun darting around the room for an escape route, looked back at the dark-haired man with a frown. “Why not just kill you instead?”

“Hydra needed every human test subject they could get their hands on. Whatever they did to my mind worked at first, but then cracks began to form and I started remembering who I really was; I hid my condition from my fellow operatives for a year, right up until Hydra fell to Captain America and the SSR.”

“And what about the Secret E-?”

“We don’t have time to waste on explanations, Chief Thompson!” Michael cut him off, his jaw clenching as his hands rubbed at his temples. “If you found our airfield in Kent then you must’ve already located my file at the SFC, so listen carefully: inside the file is a code written in invisible ink. Have Agent (Y/L/N) decode it as quickly as she can, everything you need to know is within it. I-” Crying out in pain, the man doubled over and Jack hurried to his side; Michael’s eyes were squeezed shut as he spoke through clenched teeth, “My control…slipping away, we have…we have moments at best…a dream…visions, light, cheered, night, dream.”

Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion at the randomness of his words. “What-?”

“Destroy the key…destroy Zodiac…” His eyes flew open, and Jack was struck by how frightened they were as their gaze met. “Tell Peg that I…I’m…” He cried out again and fell to the ground, his hands clutching the sides of his head. “Go, now!”

Giving Michael one final look, Jack turned and flung open the door, darting out and shutting it as quietly as he could behind him. Shockwaves of pain coursed throughout his body as he limped across the train car, but just as he reached for the control panel to open the sliding divider door, he stopped himself; continuing on through the rest of the train would surely alert everyone on board and in no time, he’d either be strapped back into that wooden chair or he’d be dead. Looking up, he breathed a sigh of relief when his eyes landed on an overhead hatch; he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in pain as he began climbing up onto a wooden crate and once he reached the top, he opened the hatch and hoisted himself up.

The shooting pain in Jack’s body nearly made him black out but he pushed through it, moving to sit on the roof of the train and kicking the hatch closed. Taking in the snow-covered trees and vivid white banks flanking both sides of the train, he deduced that they were traveling through Eastern Europe; Michael did mention that they were meeting up with Leviathan, he silently reasoned, which means that we’re somewhere in Russia. Wasting no time, Jack peeked over the side of the train and felt a surge of adrenaline when he caught sight of the large snow bank up ahead.

“Three…two…one…now!” He rolled off the speeding train and fell into the powdery snow below, groaning in pain as he slowly sat up and watched the train vanish into the distance. “Observe, situate and adapt, Thompson, c’mon.” He clambered to his feet and moved to stand behind a nearby tree as he followed the first step; the sun was sitting high in the sky, shining through the tree branches and reflecting off of the snowy landscape surrounding him. It was cold, much colder than inside the train, and he knew that once the sun set he’d be even colder; his suspicion about being somewhere in Russia was confirmed when he breathed in through his nose and smelled fish in the air, instantly recalling Peggy Carter’s words from so long ago…

“Do you know what the smell of herring in the air means in the middle of a Belarusian summer?”

“Mmm, someone’s having a fish fry?”

“It means that there’s wind blowing in from the Baltic, it means a snowstorm in July, and if you can smell the wind it means that you have thirty minutes to find shelter and build a fire before you die of hypothermia in the morning…”

“What the hell’s it mean in the winter, though?” Jack wondered aloud, his brow furrowing in worry. Knowing that time was running out, he quickly removed his standard-issue SSR wristwatch and twisted its face off to reveal the compass hidden underneath. He held it flat on his palm and watched as the compass needle moved to find north, an insane plan involving the nearest friendly village with a telephone and the infamous Howling Commandos already beginning to form in his mind.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen (Part I)
Poland, 10 kilometers from the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic

Once the war finally ended, (Y/N) thought her days of overnight guard duty were well and truly behind her; she figured that she’d never again be put in a situation where she’d be forced to sit on a cold forest floor with an assault rifle clutched in her hands as she kept watch over a camp full of soldiers. But there she was over two years later, sitting guard in the dark snowy forests of Poland while her companions – two SSR agents, an inventor and his butler, an L.A.P.D. rookie officer and the Howling Commandos – rested. Nothing ever goes the way you want in this line of work, (Y/N) thought to herself, tightening her hold on her M1A1 Thompson and trying her hardest not to think about its all-too familiar name.

(Y/N) telephoned back home to Peggy and Daniel immediately after Jack was taken by Dottie Underwood and Thomas Attwell and less than twelve hours later, the pair had arrived at the abandoned Attwell Airfield in one of Howard Stark’s souped-up planes with Howard, Edwin and to her surprise, Officer Henry Lang; Peggy insisted that they needed all the help they could get, but the only other person they could trust in Los Angeles was the rookie officer. She’d filled them in on the situation and while Peggy and Daniel worked on getting into contact with their old friends in the 107^th, Howard and Edwin developed the photographs she’d taken with her camera pen. She’d captured a photograph of Underwood and Attwell’s flight plan and a map but unfortunately, the photograph was blurry, as she’d been in the middle of taking it when gunfire had broken out and Jack tackled her to the floor. The furthest they’d been able to travel was Poland, right near the border of Lithuania, and they wouldn’t know where to go next until the photograph was made completely visible.

At the thought of her missing partner, (Y/N)’s heart clenched and a fresh wave of guilt washed over her; she was the one who’d told Jack to secure the hangar, so it was her fault that he’d been captured and anything that the Secret Empire did to him would be on her hands. First Freddie and half his squadron and now Jack, she thought to herself as her lower lip trembled, how much more heartache and loss can a person be forced to endure?

“Mind if I sit with you for a while, (Y/N)?” (Y/N) ducked her head and hurriedly wiped away her tears before looking back up at Peggy; like her, the younger woman was dressed in a dark tactical uniform and sturdy boots, her rifle slung over her shoulders and her brown hair braided back. With a small smile on her face, Peggy held up her hands to reveal the bottle of alcohol and two metal canteen cups she was carrying. “I brought a little whiskey to warm you up.”

(Y/N) nodded, scooting over so that Peggy could sit with her back against the tree and accepting one of the cups. She watched her pour some whiskey into both cups and felt the corner of her mouth curve upwards when they both held their cups up at the same time, clearing her throat before reciting, “May our glasses stay full…”

“Our guns stay loaded…”

“And our garters stay on.” Both women spoke together, lightly clinking their cups together before drinking. The whiskey burned her throat as she swallowed, and the alcohol quickly succeeded in warming her cold body; with a small sigh, (Y/N) took another sip and looked out into the darkened forest. “Has Howard made any progress on enhancing that photograph?”

Peggy shook her head. “Not yet, but he will.”

Sighing again, (Y/N) downed the rest of her whiskey and looked down at the empty cup in her hand. “I should’ve taken a clearer photograph…”

“(Y/N), you were ambushed by gunfire, it’s a miracle that you got as many photographs as you did without dying.” She could hear Peggy set her cup down and a moment later, the younger woman’s hand gently held hers. “What happened to Jack wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but I was the one who told him to go into that hangar-”

“Don’t. Don’t blame yourself for something that wasn’t in your control.” (Y/N) glanced up to meet Peggy’s steely gaze. “You have a rather bad habit of taking responsibility for the actions of others, (Y/N), and that’s no way to live your life; Freddie’s death wasn’t your fault, and neither was Jack’s abduction. We’re going to get that partner of yours back in no time, you’ll see.”

(Y/N) brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her free arm around them, hesitating a moment before finally speaking. “I haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk to you about Michael these past couple of days, but…how’re you holding up, Peg?”

“It’s been…” The younger woman trailed off, as if at a loss for words, and she was biting her lip when (Y/N) glanced over at her. “There’s a lot to process and while I don’t think I’ve quite managed it yet, there is one thing I can be certain of: my brother’s not the same man I knew before the war.”

Without another word, (Y/N) let go of Peggy’s hand in favor of wrapping an arm around her shoulders; the two women sat together for a while, the rustling of leaves in the surrounding trees filling the peaceful silence. It was when (Y/N) was caught stifling a yawn that Peggy insisted on taking over her watch, and she knew better than to argue with her old friend.

The campfire in the center of their makeshift base glowed invitingly as (Y/N) trudged closer, and seated around it was Daniel, Dum Dum Dugan and Henry Zhang; the chief glanced up from his plate of rations and smiled when she sat down beside him. “You want something to eat, (Y/L/N)? Dugan here’s a whiz at fixing these rations into something edible. It kind of makes me wish he’d been a part of the 28^th Infantry instead of the 107^th; our cooks didn’t know a potato from a parsnip.”

“Well, forgive me for being a little wary but I still remember the time he accidentally dropped one of his cigars into a pot of stew and didn’t tell us until after we ate.” (Y/N) smiled a little as she recalled the memorable evening. “Jacques turned green, Gabe nearly threw up and Bucky was about five seconds away from kicking your ass. It’s truly a wonder you ever survived that night, Dugan.”

Daniel and Henry both laughed loudly, and Dugan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “That was one time, (Y/L/N); I swear, a guy can’t make one little mistake?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Not when he’s in charge of feeding eight very hungry people, he isn’t. You better hope I never tell your ma that her son messed up her famous potato stew with a half-smoked cigar.”

They all laughed, and she felt herself beginning to relax around the pleasant company; when their chuckles died down, Henry looked over at Dugan with boyish admiration in his eyes. “Is it true that you two and Agent Carter fought alongside Captain America? I was too young to enlist but I read all his comic books and listened to every one of his radio shows; I even used to dream about becoming one of his Howling Commandos, one of you guys!”

“…Yeah, kid, we did.” The older man’s expression turned wistful and (Y/N) began fiddling with the sleeve of her tactical uniform, memories of Steve and Bucky filling her mind. She caught Daniel’s eye and he offered her a comforting smile as Dugan cleared his throat. “You know that (Y/L/N) here can do ninety-eight one-arm pushups?”

Daniel whistled low, clearly impressed. “Really? Well, it sounds like there’s a helluva story behind that one.”

Shrugging noncommittally, (Y/N) tried and failed to keep the smug grin off her face as she addressed the awestruck men. “We were all relaxing in a pub one night and after one too many drinks, we decided to hold a little competition. Most of the guys tapped out pretty early so they could keep on drinking but Peg and I kept going. I made it to ninety-eight before I quit, but Peg managed to go all the way to one hundred and seven; one of these days when we’re both good and sober, we’re definitely holding a rematch.”

“With a betting pool, naturally. I-”

The chief’s words were interrupted by a loud rustling noise and in a flash, all four of them were standing and pointing their guns at the nearby trees. (Y/N), her eyes diligently trained on the tree line, gave a brief sideways glance to Dugan and nodded, creeping forward alongside him as Daniel and Henry followed behind. All of a sudden, a man stumbled out of the trees and she instantly recognized him as he fell face-first onto the ground. “Jack!” She tossed her gun to the side and sprinted over to him, dropping down beside him and rolling him onto his back with a horrified gasp. “Oh my God…”

Jack’s face was swollen and littered with darkened bruises, as if he’d recently been in a fight, and his clothes were wet and tattered beyond repair. But what worried (Y/N) the most was that his skin was deathly pale and he was mumbling incoherently, both common symptoms of hypothermia. After kneeling beside her as best as he could, Daniel’s hand shot forward to rest against Jack’s forehead and his concerned gaze instantly meeting hers. “It’s definitely hypothermia, (Y/N)-”

“…white flag…strollin’ into camp...” Jack babbled, his eyelids fluttering and his body shivering on the ground. “Flag…don’t shoot…soldiers.”

“Shhh, i-it’s okay, Jack, everything’s going to be fine,” (Y/N) hurriedly reassured him, looking up at her companions as her panic steadily grew. “I need to move him into a tent!”

Nodding, Dugan slung his rifle over his shoulder. “I’ll go let the others know he’s here and we’ll secure the perimeter in case anyone’s on his tail.”

The older man ran off and three of them hauled Jack to his feet, half-dragging him over to the nearest tent; once they managed to lower him down onto one of the bedrolls, (Y/N) dropped down beside him and immediately began taking his shirt off, calling over her shoulder, “Henry, grab a couple of those cargo crates and stack them up at the head of the bedroll, then find me some blankets.”

“If Chief Thompson needs to get warm, then why didn’t we take him to the campfire?”

(Y/N) could detect the unease in Daniel’s voice as he replied, “Because skin-to-skin contact’s the safest way to raise his body temperature; you put a hypothermic person in front of a fire, kid, and there’s a chance that their heart could stop beating.” The chief limped closer to her while the rookie officer followed orders. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“Of course, but never with a case this extreme.” Peeling off his wet shirt, her gaze was immediately drawn to the angry-looking burns on either side of his neck – marks that she’d instantly recognized – and her eyes prickled with unshed tears. “Daniel, I need a medkit and-”

“Specs…buried it…don’t shoot…”

She gently shushed Jack and rested a hand on his cheek. “I’m here, Jack, I’m right here.” Noting his shallow breathing, she placed two fingers against the side of his jugular and grew more fearful when she realized how weak his pulse was. “Shit. Go tell Peggy what’s going on and then gather up every medkit we’ve got. I need to start warming him up now.”

“Okay; c’mon, kid, let’s give ‘em a little privacy…”

Both men exited the tent, leaving (Y/N) and Jack completely alone; her partner was still mumbling confusedly as she stripped off his shoes, undershirt and ruined trousers, leaving him in just his underwear. “Just hold on, Jack, everything’s going to be okay.” She wrapped one of the thicker blankets around his frozen feet and loosely threw another over his lower body before fumbling with the buttons of her uniform top, finally getting it off and tossing it to the side. “I’ll get you warm, just hang on-”

“Dy…dying…”

“You’re not dying,” (Y/N) spoke shortly, sitting on the bedroll with her back to the crates and looping her arms under Jack’s shoulders, tugging him backwards to rest against her chest. “As your partner, I forbid it. You’re not going to die for a very, very long time, Jack Thompson, you hear me?” She grabbed the last blanket and threw it over the both of them; his cold upper body shivered against her as she wrapped her arms around his torso and she resisted the strong urge to rub his limbs to generate more warmth, afraid of damaging or irritating his already-delicate skin. “You’ll be warm in no time, Flyboy, I’m a human furnace, remember?” Jack’s delusional mumbling began to quiet down and eventually stopped altogether; she checked his pulse again and was relieved to feel that it was growing stronger, but she knew that he wasn’t out of the woods just yet. Acting on impulse, she pressed a kiss onto his cold forehead and whispered, “C’mon, Jack, stay with me. Please.”

While one of (Y/N)’s hands moved to hold his lolling head still against her neck, Peggy rushed into the tent with her arms full of medkits. “I brought all the kits from the camp and the trucks.” The younger woman knelt to the ground beside them and began rifling through the medical supplies. “Daniel mentioned something about burns…” (Y/N) nodded and Peggy pulled down the blanket, inhaling sharply when her eyes landed on the angry burns. “Dear Lord, these marks are from-”

“Electroshocking; Hydra’s favorite form of torture during the war.” (Y/N) finished bitterly, her fingers combing through Jack’s hair as Peggy went to fetch Edwin to help clean and bandage the wounds. In that small tent with her unconscious and half-dead partner in her arms, she did something she hadn’t done since before she lost Freddie: she prayed. Prayed to anything and everything she could think of that she wouldn’t lose another person that she loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of hours later, Jack’s body temperature had risen to a healthier level so with the help of Peggy and Edwin, (Y/N) maneuvered him onto one of the cots and bundled him under more blankets while he continued to sleep. (Y/N) then stayed by his side, holding one of his hands between hers and alternating between watching the rise and fall of his chest and staring at his bruised face as she waited for him to wake. The dirt and dried blood had been carefully wiped away and swelling had begun to go down, so she was able to clearly see his handsome features; with his face so relaxed Jack looked much younger, and it was easy for her to imagine that it was how he always looked before the war.

With only a moment’s hesitation, (Y/N) reached over to brush some wayward strands of hair away from his forehead and gently trail her fingertips down to his bruised cheek. Her thumb grazed the corner of his mouth before she pulled away to resume holding his hand; I’d give everything I have to see his smile right now, she thought to herself, and in that moment, it was impossible for her to deny that she was in love with Jack Thompson. She couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it happened but it was clear as day that the unconscious, occasionally-insufferable yet utterly charming man before her had stolen her heart. The realization made her close her eyes and rest her forehead against their joined hands before taking a shuddering breath.

“Specs?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flew open and her head shot up in time to see Jack begin to stir. Her partner’s clear-blue eyes slowly fluttered open, looking around the tent in confusion before finally landing on her, and she didn’t bother suppressing her sigh of relief as she beamed down at him. “Hey, Flyboy. How do you feel?”

Instead of replying, Jack began to cough so she quickly released his hand and poured some canteen water into a metal cup; she was mindful of his bandaged neck as she helped him lean forward enough to take several small sips and once he was done, she eased him back down and sat on the edge of the cot. With a slight rasp in his voice, Jack finally answered, “Like shit. Where are we?” His eyes began wandering around again as he struggled to get his bearings. “How’d you even find me?”

“We’re in Poland near the border of Lithuania. After Attwell and Underwood captured you, I called in some reinforcements. We worked off those photographs we took at the airfield to track their flight plan, and this was as far as they led us.” Wanting to ease some of the tension, (Y/N) flashed him a teasing smile. “It was very polite of you to meet us halfway, so thank you for that.”

Jack snorted out a laugh, the corners of his mouth curling into his trademark grin. “What can I say? My ma raised a real gentleman.” After their chuckles died down, his expression grew serious and he held her hand loosely in his. “You saved my life, (Y/N).”

“Not too shabby for a codebreaker, huh?” Instead of grinning or making a sarcastic retort, her partner’s face paled at her words and her brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I was talking, wasn’t I? When I stumbled into camp?” She nodded, watching with mounting concern as he took a shaky breath. “There’s…there’s something I need to tell you…”

“Okay, just let me go get Peggy and-”

“No. No, just you.” The hand that was around hers tightened, preventing her from getting up off the cot, and when she turned back to him, she was shocked to see his reddening eyes and trembling lip. “This isn’t about Michael or the case…it’s about my Navy Cross.” She opened her mouth to argue, to insist that he still needed rest and that he didn’t need to force himself to talk to her, but he cut her off before she could speak. “You told me about your brother, (Y/N), you opened up and trusted that I wouldn’t judge you and after almost dying…I wanna do the same. I need to do the same.”

His eyes were pleading with her and after a moment, she nodded and squeezed his hand. “Okay, Jack.”

Jack swallowed nervously, tearing his gaze away from her to stare up at the ceiling of the tent. “Those six Japanese soldiers that came into my camp in Okinawa, the ones that I killed…they were there to surrender, and I just didn’t realize it until it was too late.” He closed his eyes, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “But when I did, I panicked. I buried the white flag they’d been carrying and I let everyone believe that I’d done something heroic. They pinned a medal on me, sent me home a war hero…” He huffed out a humorless laugh. “The Navy Cross is awarded for bravery in combat – the second highest decoration that the Secretary of the Navy can bestow on a sailor – and I got mine by being a coward. I’m not a war hero, I’m the scumbag who’s only gotten this far in life because of a lie.”

The tent was silent; Jack’s eyes were still closed tight and (Y/N) was absorbing everything he’d told her. It all made sense now: his distaste for talking about his Navy Cross, the way he’d snapped at her for making the same assumptions that others had about his character, why he’d been able to so easily sympathize with her feelings of guilt over Düsseldorf…and he’s been living with that pain ever since, she thought to herself. Blinking away her own tears, (Y/N) softly spoke, “Can you look at me? Please?” His eyes reluctantly opened and the vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke her heart but she continued on. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Jack Thompson: you are a good man, a good man who made a terrible mistake when put in a difficult situation. The guilt and shame you’ve felt since only proves that.” She held his hand between her own and rested them on her lap, her eyes never leaving his. “But you’re not defined by your worst mistakes, Jack, and the only way you’ll see yourself the way that…that everyone who cares about you does is if you forgive yourself.”

Her partner’s eyes were rimmed with red and she could see that he was trying his hardest to keep his composure as he finally replied, “And if I can’t?”

(Y/N) smiled kindly down at Jack, reminded of the night she’d told him about Freddie. “You can. You want to know why I believe that?” His brow twitched upwards and she continued, “Because I know you, Jack Thompson, the real you, and that’s someone who’s worth believing in.”

Jack’s expression was unreadable but a moment later, he slowly sat up on the cot and pulled her into a tight hug. She blinked in surprise but soon relaxed into his embrace, her own arms moving to wrap around his bare waist; when she felt his shoulders begin to shake, she let her hand rub soothing circles over his back and he only tightened his hold on her. After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) pulled away from Jack and examined his face; his eyes, though still red from grief, were calmer and more at-peace than she’d ever seen them look before. It looks like he’s taken that first step towards self-forgiveness, she thought with a proud smile, resting a gentle hand on the side of his face.

“The others should know that you’re awake.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of information to share with ‘em.” Jack nodded, throwing the blankets back and moving to swing his legs over the edge of the cot; (Y/N) quickly averted her eyes and a moment later, he slowly asked, “Um, Specs? Where’d my clothes go?”

Feeling her face beginning to warm, she replied, “Well, I…I had to take them off of you, since they were all wet and…you, ah, probably already know that skin-to-skin contact’s the best way to warm up a hypothermic person, so that’s what I…” As if by instinct, her eyes flicked down to stare at his bare chest and she instantly took note of his muscular physique; her mouth was dry as she hurriedly looked away and awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s what I did.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) jumped to her feet, ignoring the blush that was forming on Jack’s face as she pushed him back down with one hand and tucked the blanket over his body with the other. “You still need to rest, Flyboy, so wait here while I talk to the others and wrangle you up some clothes.” She raised a brow when he opened his mouth to argue. “And no back-talk, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”

Jack’s smirk made her heart flutter in her chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After (Y/N) let the rest of the camp know that Jack was awake and found him some clothes to put on, she joined Peggy, Daniel and Edwin inside the tent and listened as her partner relayed all the intel he’d gathered while being held captive. Her jaw dropped when he first explained how Michael had been experimented on by Hydra and was forced to stay with the Secret Empire; while he talked about how he realized Michael could be broken out of his brainwashing, she glanced over at Peggy and spotted the hopeful gleam in her brown eyes. She’s got a second chance at saving her brother, (Y/N) thought with an inward smile before returning her attention back to the conversation.

“…So, I knocked him down and used cognitive re-calibration to-”

“You used what?”

“Cognitive re-calibration.” Daniel’s brow was still furrowed in confusion, making Jack sigh in exasperation. “I hit him really hard on the head, Daniel.” Realization dawned on the chief’s face and Jack glanced over at (Y/N) with a playful grin. “And here I thought we were a part of the Strategic Scientific Reserve…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, stretching her leg out and lightly nudging the edge of his cot. “Play nice, Flyboy.”

Edwin shrugged. “Chief Thompson does have a point, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“Hey, watch it, Jarvis, I was just beginning to like you-”

“All right, you four, that’s enough.” Peggy lightly scolded them all before turning her attention back to Jack. “What happened next?”

As he fiddled with the sleeve of his borrowed uniform shirt, Jack continued on. He told them about his brief interaction with Dottie Underwood and Thomas Attwell, then he revealed that they had tortured him for the location of the Arena Club key-pen; according to Michael’s alter-ego, Leviathan wanted it because it unlocked some sort of weapon and if the Secret Empire delivered it to them, their business relationship would be solidified.

“You still carry that pin on you, right?” Daniel asked.

Peggy nodded, unbuttoning the top of her uniform shirt to reveal the Arena Club pin cleverly fastened to the strap of her brassiere; their male companions all flushed and were quick to look away, but (Y/N) gave the younger woman a grin and a nod of approval. “I decided that it would be smart to keep it on my persons at all times, just in case we ever discovered what it’s meant to unlock. Now, if you three are done behaving like schoolboys, Agent (Y/L/N) and I would like to hear what else happened.”

Although still a little flustered, Jack’s jaw clenched in anger as he told them about Agent Cabrera’s treachery and their confusion only grew as he chronicled everything Michael had told them while temporarily broken out of his brainwashing before escaping the train. By that point they’d been joined by Howard and Dugan, who’d rolled up a side of the tent and moved the table littered with their maps, photographs and radio equipment so that they could work and listen to their conversation; the inventor continued trying to enhance the developed photographs they’d taken with his camera pen and Dugan began examining a map trying to locate any nearby train-tracks.

“Right before he started slipping back into the brainwashing, he told me that you needed to decode that invisible-ink code as quick as possible,” Jack turned away from (Y/N) and squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a wince of pain as his hand came up to rub at his forehead. “Damn, feels like I got whacked upside the head with a baseball bat.” He accepted the aspirin that Jarvis handed him and washed down the pills with a swig of water, his brow furrowing as he continued. “It’s a little fuzzy but he also said some random words, I figured they were some sort of code or something…visions, light, cheered…um, night and…dream.”

It took a moment for (Y/N) to realize why those words sounded so familiar and once she did, her jaw dropped in surprise. “Poem code. That invisible message’s a poem code.”

“You and I analyzed that message during the entire journey from England, (Y/N). How is it possible that we missed-?”

“Because we were thinking like Bletchley Park codebreakers and not brainwashed Secret Empire operatives.” Leaping up from her seat, she crossed the tent and retrieved her rucksack before hurrying back to her confused-looking companions. “At Bletchley, we learned that wartime intelligence operatives tend to only use well-known poems when writing coded messages and, statistically-speaking, many of the world’s most famous poems were written by the English.” She slipped on her reading glasses and began excitedly flipping through one of her translation journals as she continued. “However, Michael’s already proven that he doesn’t stick to the status-quo when it comes to creating codes, so it only makes sense that he’d use a lesser-known poem written by an American poet…” Beaming, (Y/N) held up the open journal for her companions to see. “A poem like Edgar Allen Poe’s A Dream. This also happens to be the poem they used at Stanford to test whether I was skilled enough to be admitted into Bletchley, and those were the same five words I used to decode their message.”

From behind the oversized map, Dugan let out a low whistle. “You’re still one helluva genius, (Y/L/N).”

“Yeah, she is.”

Jack’s comment coupled with his proud smile made (Y/N)’s heart skip a beat and the corner of her mouth curved upwards as she quickly glanced away in embarrassment. Peggy, who’s eyes had been trained on the translation journal in (Y/N)’s hands, looked up with her jaw set in determination. “Let’s decode that message, then, shall we?”

With the message and their translation journals propped up in front of them, the two women worked side-by-side on cracking Michael Carter’s final coded message, just as they had done so long ago at Bletchley Park. It didn’t take them long to finish, and (Y/N) exchanged an anxious glance with Jack as Peggy began reading her brother’s message out loud.

Peggy,

If you’re reading this right now then things are truly looking sour. The Secret Empire has joined forces with Leviathan, a covert Soviet espionage agency that’s in possession of a biological weapon named Zodiac. It was developed by the U.S. government during the Great War as a substitute for mustard gas and stolen by Leviathan in 1945; however, its container had been constructed with a special lock that couldn’t be picked or destroyed at the risk of the vial breaking inside and killing everyone within the vicinity. The key is in the SSR’s possession, Peggy, disguised as an Arena Club pin. You must destroy it so that Leviathan cannot use it to wage more war and destruction against the world, then forget about me. My position within the Secret Empire is fragile; the brainwashing that Hydra subjected me to has already begun to break down – enough for me to code enemy secrets and leave them for you to find within my SOE file – and soon it’ll be impossible to hide it from my associates. With that in mind, I’ve vowed to do everything I can to see Zodiac destroyed before my deception’s discovered, no matter how impossible the task will be. By the time you read this it’ll be too late to save me, but you still have a chance to save the world by destroying that key forever.

Darling, I’m so sorry. You’ve already mourned my death once, and now I’m asking you to do it all over again. But this was my choice, Peggy, I hope you’ll understand that. I have a feeling you will, though…You were always so much stronger than you gave yourself credit for. I love you, Peggy.

Your ever-proud brother,

Michael

Peggy’s hands were trembling as she carefully folded the page and tucked it into her trouser pocket, her reddened eyes closing for a brief moment as she took a shaky breath. (Y/N), who’s own eyes had begun to sting with unshed tears, took off her reading glasses and set them aside before glancing around at the others; Daniel’s eyes were filled with sympathy as he reached a hand out to rest on his girlfriend’s, Jarvis was dabbing at the corner of his eye with a handkerchief, Howard and Dugan’s work lay forgotten as they solemnly stared down at the ground, and Jack…

Jack’s eyes weren’t trained on Peggy or on the ground, but rather on (Y/N). The determined expression on his face was all she needed to deduce that her partner was thinking along the exact same lines as she was and after giving him a barely-discernible nod, she turned back towards her old friend and met her gaze with a growing smile. “We’re going to do both, Peg.” Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the others looked over at her, but her attention was entirely focused on the younger woman before her. “We’re going to make sure Leviathan will never weaponize Zodiac…and we’re going to rescue Michael.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen (Part II)

The Forests of the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic

“You see anything yet, Specs?”

(Y/N) sighed through her nose but didn’t look away from her binoculars as she called back, “Not since you asked me two minutes ago, Flyboy. What’s the rush, you got a hot date or something?”

“No, I’m too busy watching my partner perch herself on an unstable, snow-covered tree branch fifteen feet in the air. Seriously, (Y/N), I really should be the lookout-”

“That’s not happening, Jack; in case you’ve forgotten, you’re still recovering from a severe case of hypothermia and torture.” Tearing herself away from the binoculars, she looked down and raised a brow when she spotted Jack’s concerned frown and crossed arms. “Why don’t you go check on the others and make sure Howard isn’t teaching Henry any bad habits?”

Jack heaved a sigh but reluctantly complied, grumbling under his breath as he trudged towards their truck, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes in mild exasperation before returning her attention to the binoculars. They were stationed a little less than a mile away from a large warehouse-facility, hidden away in the dense forest, and waiting for Peggy’s signal to proceed with the next phase of their plan; after they decoded Michael’s final message, Howard was finally able to enhance the photographs they’d taken back at Attwell Airfield and since all the maps depicted led them directly to the structure hidden away in the Lithuanian forests, it was a safe bet that that was where the Secret Empire was meeting with Leviathan.

In theory, the plan they’d come up with was simple: Extract Michael Carter, destroy Zodiac and go home. They’d agreed to split up into two teams of four; Peggy, Dugan, Sawyer and Pinkerton would enter the north side of the facility and (Y/N), Jack, Henry and Howard would enter its south side. Each group would make its way through the facility, (Y/N)’s with the intention of procuring Zodiac and Peggy’s in search of Michael, then they’d leave as quietly as they’d come.

There were countless things that could go wrong with their plan, that much was true, but (Y/N) had faith in her group of rag-tag companions and their impressive skills. Even the occasionally-annoying flyboy who’s spent the past half an hour circling this tree like a nervous Nellie, she smiled to herself; although he was still recovering from his recent injuries, Jack had insisted on accompanying them on their mission and (Y/N) knew better than to waste precious time arguing with her hard-headed partner. That man’ll be the death of me, she thought with a quiet chuckle, her eyes still trained on the forest of trees in the distance.

Not long after, (Y/N) spotted the flashes of light reflecting off of Peggy’s compact mirror and translated the Morse Code before securing her binoculars around her neck and calling down, “All clear, time for Phase Two!” She started making her way down the tree, getting about halfway down when Jack reappeared below her. “Peggy and the others are in position, so it’s time to go.”

“Copy that, Specs, but you’ve gotta be more careful or else you’ll-” The branch (Y/N) stepped down onto suddenly snapped, sending her sprawling onto the piles of snow about six feet below and briefly knocking the air out of her lungs. “Fall.” Jack was standing at her side in an instant, his hand stretched out for her to take and his expression a strange mixture of concern and amusement. “You know, I could’ve sworn that I predicted that happening…”

“You’re very funny, smart-ass,” (Y/N) grumbled as she took his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet; the power behind his action took her by surprise and before she could steady herself, she stumbled right into him. Her hands had automatically latched onto his broad shoulders and when she felt his arm snake itself around her waist, her eyes flicked up and met his blue ones; realizing just how close his face was to hers, her heart began to race but she didn’t immediately pull away from him like she’d done in the past. Instead, she brought a hand up and trailed her fingertips over the bruise that stretched across his cheekbone; it was already beginning to turn a yellowish hue and when she brushed over the edge of it, he flinched and she winced in sympathy. “Sorry…you’re not in too much pain, are you?”

Jack smirked and opened his mouth to reply, but grew serious when she didn’t smile back. “It still hurts a bit but it’s nothing I can’t manage, (Y/N). I’ll feel a whole lot better once we finish this mission and go home.” She nodded and began pulling away from him, but stopped herself when his hand gently tightened on her waist and his expression shifted from reassuring to apprehensive. “Look, we don’t really know what we’re walking into and there’s a helluva lot riding on this mission, so I…I wanted…you’ll be careful, right?”

The earnest look in his blue eyes combined with the weight of his hand on her waist nearly made (Y/N) go weak in the knees, but she suppressed the sudden surge of affection as she nodded again. “Of course, just as careful as my calm and level-headed partner’ll be out there. Maybe even more.” Jack’s lips curved into a small smile at that. “Everything’s going to be fine out there, Jack, I promise. Now c’mon, the others are waiting for us…”

Biting back her growing smile, (Y/N) walked beside Jack as they made their way over to where the others were waiting. Daniel was already seated in the driver’s seat of the truck, his expression clouded with apprehension; he’d allowed Peggy to go along with the Howling Commandos and stayed behind to act as their backup without an argument, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was worried about his girlfriend. Edwin was preoccupied with adjusting the sleeves of his bomber jacket and Howard was talking away to Henry, who was listening to the inventor with barely-concealed awe. “Good news, Daniel, there’s a small clearing about a quarter of a mile southeast of here that should give you two plenty of cover.”

Daniel nodded, starting the truck’s engine and calling out, “Okay, Jarvis, it’s time to go.”

“Yes, of course, Chief Sousa!” Edwin hurriedly got into the passenger seat before addressing (Y/N). “Miss (Y/L/N), are you quite sure that Mr. Stark will be all right going with you and Chief Thompson?”

“He’ll be just fine, Jarvis; he’s only coming along with us for his scientific insight, that’s all.” (Y/N) flashed him a reassuring smile, touched by the concern the butler had for the inventor’s well-being; her smile faltered when her eyes drifted over to where Jack, Howard and Henry were gathered, worry furrowing her brow as she scrutinized the rookie officer’s youthful face. “To be perfectly honest, though, I’m more concerned for Henry. Howard’s been in plenty of tough scrapes over the years but Henry…?”

“With two highly-skilled SSR operatives watching his back, I’m sure the kid’ll be in good hands.” Daniel’s words were meant to put her at ease but her anxiety refused to disappear; the rookie officer reminded her far too much of Freddie for her to be placated with words of comfort. The chief’s eyes looked past her at Jack, who was slinging a rifle strap over his shoulder as he walked over to them. “Watch each other’s six, okay? We don’t have any idea what’s inside that facility; for all we know, this could be where Leviathan’s training more of their spies.”

Jack nodded and gave him a playful salute. “You got it, Chief.” The two of them watched as the truck drove off into the forest, turning and walking over to Howard and Henry once it disappeared from view. “All right, fellas, when we get in there, Agent (Y/L/N) and I’ll take point. Zhang, it’ll be your job to cover our backs and keep Stark out of trouble-”

“O-Okay, Chief Thompson, it’s just that…” Henry swallowed nervously and his hands clutched the shoulder strap of his rifle as he continued, “Well, the police academy didn’t really train us to handle a situation like this and I’m not sure I know what to do but I don’t want to let you all down and-”

“Hey,” Stepping forward, (Y/N) rested her hands on the rookie officer’s shoulders and looked him directly in his panicked eyes. “Take a couple of deep breaths for me, Henry. Can you do that?” He nodded, and she smiled kindly at him when she felt his shoulders beginning to relax. “That’s it, Fred-” (Y/N) caught herself before she could say the rest of her brother’s name; Henry didn’t seem to notice her slip-up but out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jack and Howard exchanging sympathetic glances as they turned away to give the two of them some privacy. As she stood there in front of the rookie officer and watched him rapidly blink away his tears, a distant memory suddenly came to the forefront of her mind…

“Freddie, what the hell are you doing here?!” (Y/N) asked, her brow raising in disbelief as the smiling sixteen-year-old jumped off his bicycle and leaned it against the station-house. “If Mother and Father find out that you skipped school to see me off-”

“I don’t care if they find out,” Freddie’s smirk widened as he shrugged. “There’s no way in hell they were gonna stop me from seein’ my big sister ‘fore she leaves.”

A reluctant smile played on her lips and she shook her head in exasperation. “I swear, you’re such a little troublemaker…”

“Oh, I wonder who I learned that from?” (Y/N) playfully swatted her brother’s arm while he laughed; the two of them sat down on a nearby bench and looked out at the empty train tracks, the tense silence finally broken by his quiet plea, “Take me with you.”

(Y/N) sighed, unable to turn and face Freddie; since the moment she’d told him about Bletchley Park, she’d dreaded the day that he’d inevitably try and convince her to bring him along. “Freddie…please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

 Ignoring her plea, Freddie hurriedly knelt on the ground in front of her and grabbed her hands. “I wouldn’t be any trouble, I-I could get a job to help you pay the bills! We could finally live somewhere far away from Ma and Pop, and I’ll even try joinin’ the army-”

“Stop it, Freddie!” (Y/N) spoke sharply, instantly regretting her tone when he visibly flinched; her shoulders sagged and she sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling, bud, it’s just…where I’m going is incredibly dangerous, and it’s only going to get worse the longer the war goes on.” She smoothed his hair back and forced herself to smile. “You’re sixteen years old; your only concern right now should be keeping your nose clean and graduating high school, not a war happening half a world away.”

Tears began to well up in his eyes. “If it’s so dangerous then how come you’re goin’? Why’re you leavin’ me here by myself?”

“Freddie, the last thing I’d ever want to do is leave you, but…” (Y/N)’s hands tightened around his as she continued. “I have an opportunity to use my skills to do the right thing. Sometimes doing the right thing’s hard, but that doesn’t mean we just lie down and stop trying. It doesn’t seem like it now but I’m going to England for you, bud, to make the world a better place for you to live in. Does that make sense?” Freddie sniffed and wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his coat as he nodded. “I’ll write to you every week, okay? And you can write me back as many times as you want about whatever’s on your mind; about school, about baseball, about your adorable crush on Susan Holloway…”

“I don’t have a crush on Susan Holloway!” Freddie insisted with an embarrassed smile. “She and I are just lab partners in Biology!”

“Whatever you say, bud.” (Y/N) chuckled, reaching forward and pulling her brother into a tight hug. “Who knows? I might even be back in time to see you graduate next year!”

He snorted. “I don’t wanna let you down, but I’m barely passin’ Math and it’s only Algebra; you’re the brains of the (Y/L/N) family, remember?”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I left all my old Math notes on your desk this morning,” Pulling away, (Y/N) rested her hands on either side of Freddie’s face and smiled as she took one last look at him, a distant train whistle sounding through the air while she continued. “And you could never let me down, Freddie. Never.”

Blinking away her own tears, (Y/N) refocused her attention back on the hyperventilating young man before her. “Henry, you remember the other night when you told us you were a fan of Captain America? How you read all his comics and listened to all his radio shows? Well, those comics and radio shows don’t tell the full story about Steve Rogers; when he was chosen to participate in Project Rebirth, he weighed less than a hundred pounds, had a laundry-list of medical issues and barely any basic military training. But Steve beat out every single candidate because he, all ninety-eight pounds of him, was the only one who had what it took to be a hero and none of it came from a test tube.” Henry’s eyes were still widened, but (Y/N) was pleased to see that he’d stopped breathing so heavily. “And right now, I’m looking at someone who’s got all the same things that Steve Rogers had even before he became Captain America.”

“Really?”

(Y/N) smiled patiently at his timid question. “How many other rookie officers do you think would travel all the way to the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic to save the world and a man they’ve never met?” He chuckled once and she patted his shoulders before letting go of them. “Everything’ll be okay, Officer Zhang, all you have to do is follow our lead and trust your instincts. You’re not going to let anyone down.”

Nodding, Henry took a steadying breath and flashed her a small grin of thanks; they both made their way over to where Jack and Howard were standing, and (Y/N) felt her face warm when she noticed the way her partner was looking at her with eyes filled with unabashed pride. He quickly looked away once he realized she’d caught him staring and cleared his throat, his face flushing a little as he addressed them all, “Like Peggy said earlier, no weapon discharge unless absolutely necessary. Keep your eyes peeled and remember, our priority is to retrieve Zodiac and get the hell out of there; it’s the others’ job to extract Michael, not ours. Are we clear?”

Henry still looked a little nervous but he gave Jack a firm nod, and Howard simply raised his hand in the air. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, (Y/N) wearily asked, “Yes, Howard?”

“When do I get my gun?” The expectant smirk on the inventor’s face fell when (Y/N) and Jack both rolled their eyes. “What? C’mon, (Y/N), I know how to handle weapons! I invent them, for Pete’s sake, that’s gotta count for somethin’!”

“…Howard, I was in your lab that time you nearly blew yourself up.”

Howard furrowed his brow in confusion. “Wait, which time was that?”

Wincing, Henry patted the outraged inventor on the shoulder while they all began walking towards the nearby tree line. “I think you might’ve just proven Agent (Y/L/N)’s point, Mr. Stark.”

“You know,” Jack began, his voice low as he leaned down and flashed her an amused smile. “I think that kid’s starting to grow on me…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Infiltrating the facility proved to be an easier task than (Y/N) anticipated; they’d quickly dealt with the two armed guards standing watch on the south side, then they managed to find a loose drainage grate to slip into undetected. It’s like I’ve time-traveled back to 1944, she thought to herself while they crept down a deserted hall, silently marveling at how similar it all was to the missions she’d gone on with the Howling Commandos.

“This all seem a little too quiet to you, Specs?” Jack muttered, falling in step beside her with his rifle still raised. “If Leviathan’s really here, then where’s all the guards?” Right on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed throughout the space; (Y/N) grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him into one of the hallway’s decorative niche’s as Henry did the same with Howard across the way, pressing herself against the wall and holding her breath while two armed guards walked past.

Once the guards turned down another hallway, (Y/N) let out a relieved sigh. “Now we know that there’s guards here. Maybe they…” Her words died in her throat the moment she looked over at her partner, realizing in a flash just how close their faces were and that her hand was still clutching his; she’d felt the impulse to kiss Jack several times throughout their partnership, but it seemed that the heightened danger made the impulse stronger than ever and it was with great difficulty that she pulled away from him and clambered out of the niche. “Those guards were Leviathan, all right; they were wearing Red Army uniforms.”

They continued making their way through the large facility without any issues, finally coming across a walkway that stretched over a block of cells below; two guards sat at a table beside the cell block, their rifles propped against their chairs as they played a game of poker. Most of the cells were filled with visibly frightened men and women dressed in white laboratory coats and as she looked closer, (Y/N) suppressed her gasp of recognition when her eyes landed on the familiar figure of Adam Fieldman, Michael’s other accomplice within the Secret Empire, sitting alone in a cell.

“Son of a gun; I think we’d better pay Fieldman a visit.” Jack turned to her with an expectant look on his face. “Got any bright ideas, Specs?”

(Y/N)’s lips curled into a small smile. “I always do, Flyboy.”

After finalizing their off-the-cuff plan, (Y/N) crept out onto the walkway and stopped above where the two guards were seated; she lowered herself down to sit on the very edge of the walkway and took a moment to judge how far down they were before steeling her nerves and letting herself drop down. She landed on the balls of her feet, straightening up as the two guards scrambled to their feet and rushed towards her; she punched the first guard in the jaw, then elbowed the second guard in the neck before slamming her fist down onto his groin. The second guard doubled over in pain as she kicked the first guard in the shin, pulling him down by the back of his neck and kneeing him hard in the face; his unconscious form fell to the ground and (Y/N) ducked to avoid the second guard’s hit before kicking him back into the wall, her chest heaving as his head collided with the stone and he crumpled to the ground on a heap.

“Agent (Y/L/N), please! We don’t have much time!” (Y/N) turned and hurried over to Adam Fieldman’s cell; he looked worse for wear, as if he’d been locked up for several days, and his hands were tightly clutching the bars of his cell. She was vaguely aware of the others dropping down from the walkway and Howard talking to the other captives in broken Russian while Adam frantically continued, “Thomas knows that you’re here! He had that train car bugged, he heard everything Michael said to Chief Thompson before his escape!”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, looking more than unconvinced by the panicked man’s words. “Oh yeah? And why should we believe anything you say? You’re a part of the Secret Empire, the same as your old college pals.”

“Yeah, but not willingly! Almost a year ago, Thomas and Michael paid me a visit at my dad’s orangery in L.A. and forced me to manufacture weapons based on copies of Howard Stark’s stolen blueprints; they told me they’d kill my dad if I didn’t join their damn Secret Empire!” Adam insisted, glancing back at (Y/N) with pleading eyes. “Thomas caught me trying to break Michael out of his brainwashing and locked me up. He would’ve killed me, but Leviathan still needed me to work on replicating Zodiac for them.”

“He’s right,” Howard walked up to them, an unusually serious expression on his face as he gestured towards the scientists. “They say that Leviathan’s holding them prisoner to study, replicate and weaponized Zodiac the moment they get their hands on that key and open the box.”

Adam nodded. “That key is what’ll unite the Secret Empire and Leviathan, and all that gold’s gonna fund their Zodiac weapons development. After what he heard on that bug, Thomas thinks that Michael’s little sister has the key and that she’ll do anything to save him, even hand over the one thing that’ll unlock Zodiac.” Before any of them could reply, the sound of distant gunfire echoed through the room and made them all jump. “Please, you’ve gotta get us out of here! Thomas has Zodiac with him and once he gets that key, there’s no tellin’ what he’ll do!”

Together, (Y/N) and Jack shot the locks off the cell doors and while she ushered everyone out, her partner spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Change of plan, Sousa, we’re sending Zhang and Stark out the south side with Fieldman and about a dozen scientists.”

“Copy that, we’ll be in position to pick them up.”

“Chief Thompson, what about you and Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/N) unclipped her own walkie-talkie from her belt and answered, “We’re going to finish the mission ourselves.” Securing her walkie-talkie back onto her belt, she drew one of her handguns and held it out towards Howard. “Only use it if you have to.” The inventor gave her a firm nod and took the gun, and she turned to the rookie officer. “Get everyone out safely, Henry.”

Clutching his rifle in his hands, Henry’s jaw tightened with resolve. “I will.”

(Y/N) flashed the two of them a brief smile and Jack patted Henry on the shoulder before turning and hurrying out of the makeshift prison, towards the continuing echoes of gunfire on the opposite side of the facility. While they ran, she tried not to think about what Adam had said about Peggy willingly giving up the key; if that was the only way to save Freddie then I’d do it in a heartbeat, she thought with a frown, urging herself to run faster.

“Please tell me you brought some nifty gadgets with you, Specs,” Jack was panting a little while they turned a corner, one of his hands clutching the stitch in his side. “I’d feel better ‘bout all this if I knew we had an advantage.”

Two guards began to turn around at the sound of their approaching footsteps but (Y/N) and Jack each slammed the butts of their rifles into their heads and continued running while they crumpled to the ground; she looked over at him with an incredulous brow arched. “Just the lipstick Howard created for me, Flyboy, you’re welcome to borrow it if you want.”

“Thanks, but it’s not really my shade.”

The two of them skidded to a stop when they came across a staircase off to the side; without the sounds of their running distorting their hearing, she realized with a sinking feeling that the echoing gunfire had stopped. “That doesn’t sound good; which way should we go?”

Jack glanced between the hallway and the staircase before gesturing towards the staircase. “We’ll have a better tactical advantage if we go up, c’mon.”

Her partner led the way as they climbed several flights of stairs, finally reaching the landing and creeping down a corridor; the sounds of voices started to grow louder and louder until finally, the corridor opened up onto a balcony overlooking a warehouse. They pressed themselves back against the edge of the wall and Jack maneuvered so that he was standing right behind her before they both slowly peeked around the wall and got their first good look at the situation; the warehouse was cluttered, with stacks of wooden crates stamped with the symbols of Leviathan and the Secret Empire piled up around the vast room.

From their vantage point, (Y/N) quickly realized that they were witnessing a stand-off, with Peggy and the Howling Commandos taking refuge behind stacks of crates on one side of the warehouse while Thomas Attwell and a handful of Leviathan guards were hunkered down behind crates on the opposite side. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw that none of her friends appeared to be injured, and she was finally able to focus on what Attwell was saying down below.

“…settle this like civilized people, Miss Carter. We both have something that the other wants dearly; agree to my terms, and I’ll allow you and your American friends to walk out of here alive with your dear older brother.”

“It’s ‘Agent Carter,’ actually, and the SSR doesn’t negotiate with enemy operatives. You will hand over Zodiac and you will release Michael Carter into our custody, or else you’ll be dead on the floor of this warehouse very shortly.”

(Y/N) heard Dugan’s humorless chuckle. “I’d listen to her if I were you, pal.”

“Zodiac in the hands of Leviathan will be more respected than it ever was by those fools within the United States government; here they develop such a groundbreaking weapon and all because of a little town in Switzerland, they refused to use it even if it meant ending the war against the Axis powers sooner. And as for your brother…” It was difficult to tell from so far away, but it almost looked as if the man was grinning. “Leviathan has some of the best minds in the world under its thumbs; with a little tinkering in that scrambled mind of his, I’m sure that Michael will be appreciating his place within our joined organization much more than he already does.” It wasn’t until Jack elbowed her in the side that she realized he’d un-slung his rifle and was aiming directly at Attwell down below; if he was able to shoot the man, then the others could utilize the chaos to take care of the guards and finish the mission so with a nod, she moved back to let him take the shot. But as she moved, Attwell turned to face the balcony that they were standing by and called out, “Isn’t that right, old chap?”

“Certainly.” The two of them whirled around to see Michael Carter and Dottie Underwood pointing pistols directly at their hearts. “I suggest that you drop your weapons now. Slowly.” (Y/N) and Jack both set all their guns down on the ground, careful not to make any sudden moves. While she straightened back up, (Y/N) took the opportunity to examine Michael’s face and was taken aback by how cold and calculating it looked. “Now, kick them over to Miss Underwood.”

Once they’d done as Michael said, a smiling Dottie took the guns and in one swift motion, threw them all off the balcony’s edge; when she turned back to them, her smile widened. “It’s so good to see you two SSR folks again! Now the party’s really in full swing, isn’t it?”

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen (Part III)

Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty

Stark Mansion, Los Angeles

Jack would never admit it out loud but the months he’d spent as a guest of Howard Stark, surrounded by all the finer things in life, had completely spoiled him and as he began waking up, he wrapped his arms tight around the goose-feather pillow and burrowed deeper into the luxurious bedding with a sleepy, content sigh. Something soft began brushing along the back of his neck and he smiled at the sensation; it reminded him of when he’d woken up at the Howling Commandos’ base camp to the feeling of (Y/N)’s fingers caressing his face, the lingering pain from the torture he’d endured forgotten when he’d opened his eyes and saw the codebreaker’s beautiful smile…

The peaceful daydream was suddenly shattered by a joyful bark and Jack shot up in bed, instantly spotting the Bernese mountain dog lounging on top of the comforter beside him; with an exasperated sigh, he reached over and scratched the dog behind his ear, smiling a little when he began licking his hand. “’Mornin’, Benny; for a minute there, I thought you were someone else.” Benny tilted his head to the side and let out a soft whine, making Jack chuckle in amusement. “Never mind. C’mon, bud, I’ve gotta get up soon and it’s about time for your breakfast.”

That’s all it took for Benny to leap off the bed and hurry out the half-open bedroom door, his fluffy tail wagging in anticipation. Jarvis had gotten the young Bernese mountain dog for Ana while Jack and (Y/N) were away in England as an early anniversary gift; Ana absolutely adored the energetic dog and although Jarvis claimed he was indifferent to the newest member of the household, he’d been the one to name him and Jack had even spied the butler feeding him bits of food beneath the dining room table. Such a pushover, he thought to himself with a grin as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Just as Jack was about to flop back down onto the bed, he spotted the half-packed suitcase on the dresser and realization finally set into his tired mind: today was the day he’d finally leave Los Angeles and fly home to New York. His face fell, and it didn’t take long for the memory of Senator Cooper’s visit to the West Coast SSR to unwittingly begin playing in his mind…

“Now double-check that the number correlates with the correct letter…and hey presto!” Jack set his pencil down and leaned back in the desk chair with a proud grin as (Y/N) gave him a round of applause. “Congratulations, Flyboy, you just successfully decoded your first A1Z26 code! This calls for a little celebration, don’t you think?” She opened the bottom drawer of Daniel’s desk and pulled out a bar of Hershey’s chocolate. “One Hershey bar, courtesy of Daniel and his enormous sweet-tooth.”

“You know, I’m beginning to think that I may be a bad influence on you,” Jack remarked but took the candy bar, breaking it in half and taking a large bite of his chunk. “I’ve corrupted the SSR’s top codebreaker into stealing candy from her supervisor.”

(Y/N) quirked her brow at him as her smile widened. “Don’t you mean borrowing?”

“…Touché.” He shrugged noncommittally at her reference to their memorable trip to the SFC, but when he noticed her beginning to shift in her chair, his cheerful demeanor was quickly replaced with concern. “You okay? Did you need some more aspirin, maybe a glass of water?”

She shook her head, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the candy wrapper. “I’m okay, it just twinges occasionally.” Jack opened his mouth to reply but closed it when she shot him a look. “I know what you’re going to say and it’s not happening; there’s still a lot of paperwork to finish and a small stab wound’s not going to stop me from properly wrapping this case up.”

Jack’s brow furrowed while (Y/N) slipped her reading glasses back on and reached across the desk for another document to fill out; in the week since they’d returned from Lithuania, his partner had vehemently refused to take any time off to recuperate so Daniel relegated her to desk duty and Jack took it upon himself to look after her, setting up a workspace for her in the chief’s office so she’d be more comfortable and fetching her anything she needed. Despite what she kept saying, Jack knew that it was a serious knife wound and although he would’ve preferred that she stay home, he also knew better than to try and talk reason into the stubborn codebreaker. Just one of her many charms, he thought with a sigh of defeat, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles on the edge of the desk while he watched her work with a fond smile.

(Y/N) hadn’t been wrong about the increased workload. The Secret Empire-Leviathan case had been the West Coast SSR’s biggest one yet, and there were countless components to it that each needed to be addressed; all the stolen gold they’d seized from the facility needed to be returned to over a dozen banks across California, they had to arrange for the destruction of all of the illegally-manufactured weapons the Secret Empire had produced from Howard Stark’s stolen blueprints, charges of treason had been leveled against Agent Cabrera but a plea deal still needed to be negotiated for Adam Fieldman so he’d be free to testify against the Leviathan spy, Henry Zhang’s application to the West Coast SSR had to be reviewed and officially finalized, Howard and the SSR scientists still had to find a way to safely destroy Zodiac without alerting the Department of Defense, Dottie Underwood still needed to be apprehended…and then there was Michael. The oldest Carter sibling had been staying under observation at Los Angeles County Hospital for the past week, where doctors ran tests so they could begin curing him of Hydra’s less-than-successful brainwashing; Peggy and Daniel visited Michael every day, and the younger woman cherished all the time she now had to reconnect with her long-lost brother.

While Jack quietly observed (Y/N), his thoughts drifted back to the moment Attwell’s knife lodged itself into her upper back; in that moment, the world stopped spinning and he’d never felt so scared in all his life. He was vaguely aware that he’d been rambling in a desperate attempt to keep her calm but he couldn’t remember what he’d said, all he remembered as he held her close and desperately tried to stop the bleeding was praying, praying for the first time since Okinawa that he wouldn’t lose her. When Michael shot Attwell and it became apparent that (Y/N) would survive her injuries, Jack decided that he didn’t want to deny his feelings for her any longer but he still wanted to do things right; he’d ask her out on a date to celebrate their triumph and if she said yes, he’d take her to one of the fancier restaurants in Los Angeles and – if her healing wounds would allow it – follow dinner up with a night of dancing, and then end their perfect date by telling her that he loved her.

Sunlight was streaming through the window, illuminating (Y/N)’s features and reminding Jack of the first time he’d laid eyes on her all those months ago. Now’s about a good a time as any, he thought to himself, sitting up in his chair and running a trembling hand through his hair before finally addressing her. “(Y/N)?”

She looked up from the document she’d been filling out with an expectant smile on her face, her (Y/E/C) meeting his over the tops of her reading glasses. “Yes, Jack?”

“I…” Jack swallowed nervously but the hopeful gleam in her eyes gave him the strength to continue. “I was wondering if-”

“There you are, Jack!”

The two of them looked up to see an older man standing in the doorway of the office, and the sight of the familiar older man caused Jack to blink in confusion. “Senator Cooper…” Getting to his feet, he walked around Daniel’s desk and shook the older man’s hand. “Sorry, but Chief Sousa’s not in right now. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m not here to see Sousa, son, I’m here to see you!” Jack’s brow furrowed in confusion and he met (Y/N)’s equally-baffled eyes as Cooper’s grin widened. “And after the case you and that fella Agent (Y/L/N) just wrapped up, the one Capitol Hill’s been hearing so much about this past week, I should be the one to ask you that question.” The senator turned towards (Y/N), who was still seated beside the desk with her half-finished documents and translation journals open before her. “Young lady, could you fetch us two black coffees and some sugar cubes if you’ve got any?”

(Y/N) visibly flinched and it was all Jack could do to keep his surge of annoyance in check as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Senator Cooper, this is Agent (Y/L/N), the codebreaker I worked alongside to solve the case.”

The dawning realization on the senator’s face only served to fuel Jack’s irritation, and he was forced to hide his clenched fists in his trouser pockets while the senator addressed the codebreaker. “Well, then, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady! The United States government thanks you for all the support you provided Chief Thompson during his investigation; I’m sure that you were a valuable asset to him.” Anger flashed in (Y/N)’s eyes but before she could reply, Cooper turned back to Jack and grinned. “What you did in Lithuania was impressive, son, very impressive! A lot of my colleagues on Capitol Hill agree that you’re the sort of man we need working in the brand-new Central Intelligence Agency.”

“The…the CIA?”

“Tensions with the Soviet Union are only escalating and with all your past encounters with their Leviathan operatives, we feel that a war hero like you has a lot to offer over at the CIA.” Reaching into his jacket’s pocket, Cooper withdrew a letter and handed it to a still-stunned Jack. “This is the copy of a letter signed by myself and fifteen other senators endorsing you as a chief officer within the Directorate of Intelligence; the original’s already been reviewed and approved by the agency’s higher ups, son, so allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your new position.”

“I…I’m not…I don’t know if I’m the right-”

Cooper waved him off with a chuckle. “Oh, come on, Jack, don’t be so modest! You have a few weeks to think it over, of course, but if you ask me you should jump on an offer like that; the SSR won’t be around forever, after all! Oh, and that reminds me, your superiors in D.C. wanted me to ensure that you’ll return to New York within the week…”

While the senator continued to talk, Jack’s eyes stared down at the letter in his hands; he couldn’t bring himself to look at (Y/N) as the reality of their inevitable futures began setting in. People were expecting him to go be a leader at the CIA and (Y/N) was needed at the West Coast SSR…they would truly be going their separate ways…

“It’s for the best,” Jack repeated the words he’d been telling himself for the past three days, hating how hollow and unfeeling they sounded to his own ears. “She deserves someone better than me anyways, so it’s for the best.”

Once he got dressed and finished packing, Jack joined Howard and the Jarvises for breakfast. It was a melancholy affair with Ana doing her best to keep the conversation flowing, but even she was struggling to fill the silence before his impending departure; Jack had grown fond of the happy couple during his extended stay, and he knew that he was going to miss things like listening to the Benny Goodman radio show with them and watching the two of them cook together in the kitchen. Even Howard had somehow managed to grow on him, much to his surprise.

The dining room table had been cleared away and Jack was keeping himself distracted by watching Howard playing fetch with Benny out on the front lawn when two cars pulled up and parked in the driveway; Daniel and Peggy got out of the dark-blue Cadillac and made their way over to where he was standing but (Y/N) lingered near her emerald-green Fleetmaster, her attention focused on raising the car’s convertible top.

“Well, Thompson, you certainly know how to overstay your welcome,” Daniel joked, leaning on his crutch while he held out his hand. “But I’m really gonna miss seeing you around the office.”

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me blush.” Shaking his outstretched hand, Jack smiled and gave the chief a nod of approval. “The West Coast SSR’s in good hands, Daniel; the higher ups in D.C. knew what they were doing when they made you Chief.” He looked over at Peggy, his smile growing more playful as he continued. “And Danny Boy’s definitely in good hands with you, Marge. You’ll keep an eye on the knucklehead for me, won’t you?”

“I’ll try my best but you know what Daniel’s like, so reckless and eager to rush into danger.” They both chuckled while Daniel rolled his eyes at their teasing, but the chief’s expression softened when Peggy pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek; the younger woman turned back to Jack and wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug. “I still don’t know how to thank you for everything you did for Michael.”

Jack pulled away with a small shake of his head. “I was only doing what’s right, Peg.” Looking over her shoulder, Jack’s eyes landed on (Y/N) in the distance. The codebreaker was leaning against her car and grinning as she watched Howard and Benny playing on the lawn, the sight of her looking so cheerful causing something to stir in Jack’s chest; they hadn’t talked much since Senator Cooper’s visit but in the few times they had, (Y/N) was withdrawn and unusually quiet, so seeing her look so happy right before he was scheduled to leave Los Angeles was like a gift. Before he knew it, Jack blurted out, “Keep an eye on (Y/N) for me, will you?”

“Of course we will, Jack. Now, come on, you’d better say the rest of your goodbyes so you don’t miss your flight…”

Jack was surprised by how quickly the rest of the goodbyes went; Ana pulled him into a warm hug before pressing a wrapped loaf of homemade banana bread into his hand, Jarvis shook his hand and gifted him a copy of Murder on the Orient Express to read during his flight, and Howard threw his arms around him and Jack reluctantly returned the inventor’s suffocating hug. After giving Benny a final pat on the head, he loaded his suitcase into the trunk of (Y/N)’s car and got into the passenger seat, giving the group a final wave as the codebreaker pulled out of the driveway. The car ride to the airport was tense, the radio’s soft music filling the uncomfortable silence between the two of them; there were so many things Jack wanted to say to her but he couldn’t bring himself to, especially when she turned into the airport’s main gate and parked on the tarmac alongside the other cars.

“Well, I guess this is it.” Jack remarked, lifting his suitcase out of the trunk of (Y/N)’s car and turning to face her with a half-smile; he gripped the handle of his suitcase tight as he struggled to think of something – anything – to say that could prolong their goodbye. “You know, I heard Stark pitching an idea to Jarvis this morning ‘bout making a film based on our case.”

(Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head at the inventor’s antics. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“You know, I think the guy might’ve been onto something this time; a flick based on the two of us could be a real blockbuster.”

“Looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me trying to stop him from naming it Specs and the Flyboy.”

Shrugging, Jack flashed her a playful grin. “I don’t know, I think it’s got kind of a nice ring to it.” Their chuckles died off and he shifted awkwardly where he stood, acutely aware of the passengers beginning to board the plane behind him; (Y/N)’s beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes stared up into his and for a heavenly moment of time, it felt as if the two of them were the only people on Earth. Reality suddenly intruded on their moment when Jack recalled the words that the codebreaker had spoken to him at the beginning of their turbulent partnership…

“Do you respect Peggy Carter?”

“Yeah? Why’re you asking?”

“Humor me for a moment, please. Since our respect for Peggy Carter is the one thing we can agree on, I propose a truce. We work on this case as partners, equal in every aspect of the investigation, and we put aside our personal gripes with one another in order to successfully solve the case for her. Once we accomplish that, you’ll return to New York and we’ll never have to see one another again for the rest of our lives.”

Their partnership was over and they both were going their separate ways, just as they’d agreed to do all those months ago. Back then, he’d been chomping at the bit for the day when he wouldn’t have to see the snarky codebreaker ever again but now – after everything they’d gone through together and after she’d managed to worm her way into his heart – he was dreading it more than anything.

“Thank you for your help on the case, Agent (Y/L/N),” Setting his suitcase down, Jack took a tentative step forward and held out his hand to her. “It never would’ve been solved without you.”

“You’re welcome, Chief Thompson,” Her gaze softened and with a small smile, she reached forward and shook his outstretched hand. “And…and thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being the best partner a codebreaker could ever hope for.”

(Y/N)’s sweet words and teary-eyed smile nearly made Jack’s resolve crumble; it would’ve taken such little effort to pull her into his arms and soundly kiss her the way he’d wanted to since the moment they’d met. He could do it…he should do it…but he wouldn’t. People were counting on him to return to New York and take the CIA job but more importantly, he hadn’t done anything in his short but messy life to deserve the love of a woman like her; so with a heavy heart, he let go of her soft hand and picked up his suitcase. Since he didn’t trust the strength of his own voice, Jack simply gave the codebreaker a nod before turning, making his way up the air-stairs and boarding the plane without pausing to look back.

Once he found his seat and made himself as comfortable as he could, the plane began taxiing down the runway and his standard pre-flight jitters began to rise; since he didn’t want to attract the attention of any nearby passengers, he tucked his trembling hands into his jacket pockets but frowned when his fingers made contact with a folded piece of paper. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and his heart hammered away in his chest when he realized what he was looking at: it was the photograph of him and (Y/N) that he’d taken back in their London hotel room. She’d been showing him how Howard’s camera-pen worked and just for the hell of it, he’d tested it out by snapping a photograph of the two of them; he was grinning in amusement at the camera’s minute lens and (Y/N) was laughing, her happy smile reaching all the way to her eyes and illuminating her features as she looked at him. Stark must’ve slipped it into my pocket back at the mansion, he thought to himself, sending his silent thanks to the inventor as he continued staring down at the photograph.

The plane sped down the runway and took off into the sky, but Jack barely registered it; all he could do was think about how he’d just walked away from the love of his life and the possibility of a happy future for something he didn’t even want while his eyes prickled with unshed tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Los Angeles County Hospital, Los Angeles
Two weeks later…

“So anyways, I told the others that Peggy was perfectly fine but they didn’t believe me, so they stormed the upper level of the base and arrived just in the nick of time to see her knock a man twice her size onto his ass with a telephone receiver,” Michael burst into laughter and (Y/N)’s grin widened as she continued, “And that’s when the Howling Commandos learned not to underestimate Peggy Carter in battle.”

“Oh, I wish I could’ve seen their faces!” Michael’s own expression was a mixture of amusement and approval as his chuckles died down. “When I first recommended Peg for the SOE job, I’d hoped that we’d eventually be fighting side-by-side in the war but taking everything that’s happened into consideration…well, I’m glad that she ended up with the SSR. She’s truly living the life of adventure she’s wanted since she was a little girl, and she’s doing it surrounded by some of the most remarkable people that she could ever hope to meet.”

(Y/N) smiled at the man’s compliment but before she could respond, there was a knock on the hospital room’s door frame and a familiar blonde-haired nurse poked her head in. “I’m so sorry to disturb you two, but Agent Carter and Chief Sousa are here for their visit and Mr. Carter’s only allowed two visitors at a time…”

“Thank you, Evelyn, I must’ve lost track of the hour!” She got up from her chair, pulling on her coat and adjusting her hat before reaching for her purse. “Remind me to tell you during my next visit about the time that Steve Rogers accidentally gave away our sharpshooter’s position and nearly got his ass kicked for it. Oh, and I’ll be sure to bring you some more books to read as well!”

Michael grinned, sitting up a little on the hospital bed and adjusting the covers over his legs. “I’m looking forward to it. Have a good rest of your afternoon, (Y/N).”

“You too, Michael.” (Y/N) left the room but lingered in the hallway for a moment, the corner of her mouth curving upwards as she watched Evelyn and Michael talk while she fluffed the pillows behind his back. The man’s eyes were filled with such shy adoration and the nurse was practically beaming but as adorable as the two of them were, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness in her chest at the sight of them. Trying not to think about her former partner and failing miserably, she made her way down the hall to the hospital waiting room where Peggy and Daniel were seated. “Michael and Evelyn are awfully sweet on each other, Peg; I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a sister-in-law within the year.”

“We noticed that the other day, didn’t we, darling?” Peggy shared a smile with Daniel before looking back at (Y/N). “Michael really is beginning to resemble his old charming self. He had a bit of a reputation as a flirt throughout secondary school, you know, and he broke the heart of nearly every girl in Hampstead when he left to attend Cambridge.”

Daniel cast a furtive glance around the waiting room before lowering his voice and meeting (Y/N)’s gaze. “He might be back to his old self sooner than we expected. Before we left the office, I got a call from a fella at the Army Counterintelligence Corps and he told me that the SSR’s request for a medical advisor was approved by the Joint Intelligence Objectives Agency; he can begin consulting with Stark and the hospital’s team of neurosurgeons as soon as next month.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” (Y/N) exclaimed but when neither of them responded, her brow furrowed in concern and she sat down beside them. “Isn’t it?”

With a small sigh, Peggy eventually replied, “Yes, of course, but…the scientist that the JIOA has assigned to us is Dr. Arnim Zola.”

The Swiss scientist’s name made (Y/N)’s blood run cold and her hands tightly gripped the handle of her purse; Zola was not only the Red Skull’s right-hand man, but he committed countless atrocities on behalf of Hydra and was directly responsible for the death of Bucky Barnes. But if anyone has a chance of reversing Michael’s brainwashing it’s probably him, she thought as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I know that Operation Paperclip is meant to keep scientific knowledge and expertise away from the Soviets but what’s to stop Zola from hurting or killing Michael out of revenge for being captured?”

“The JIOA offered Zola a deal on the SSR’s behalf: if he can safely and successfully break Michael’s brainwashing, then he’ll be granted a pardon and a position within the SSR’s team of scientists in D.C.,” Daniel leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, looking as though he was trying to convince himself while he continued talking. “Zola wants to avoid spending the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison and we want a high-ranking Hydra scientist to help reverse what the bastards did to Michael. In this case, both parties will be getting exactly what they want.”

Peggy reached over and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s arm, her brown eyes meeting hers as she gave it a comforting squeeze. “You and I both have excellent reasons to hate the man but as of now, he’s Michael’s best chance at finally being free of Hydra’s control.”

Heaving a small sigh, (Y/N) nodded. “I suppose you’re right. You two should go in before Michael begins to worry and I should head back to the office since my lunch break’s nearly-”

“Oh, that reminds me! I’ve got an appointment with a new applicant at three, so could you keep an eye out for them in case they show up early?”

“Of course,” (Y/N) raised a confused brow when she caught the odd look Daniel and Peggy exchanged as they all stood. “Something wrong, you guys?”

“No, no, nothing at all! We’ll see you later!” Peggy gave her a brief hug and she and Daniel made their way down the hall to Michael’s room; looking after them, (Y/N) shrugged off their strange behavior and made her way out of the hospital.

The drive back to the Auerbach Theatrical Agency was uneventful, as all of (Y/N)’s thoughts were preoccupied with Daniel and Peggy’s troubling news. While she parked in front of the building and got out of her car she spotted a young couple across the street, the woman’s arm wrapped around the man’s as they laughed and strolled down the sidewalk; the sight of them reminded her of when she and Jack walked arm-in-arm together through Gravesend, and she felt her chest constrict at the memory. In the two weeks since Jack had returned to New York, she’d done all she could think of to distract herself from the heartache but nothing really worked. Everything seemed to remind her of her partner, from the diner where they’d often gone out to eat and work on the case to hearing the music of the Andrews Sisters playing on the radio. Work and her visits with Michael helped a little but once she returned home for the evening, all she could think of were the happy memories she’d shared there with the man she’d hopelessly fallen in love with.

“Not telling him was for the best,” (Y/N) quietly reminded herself, the familiar mantra sounding hollow and lifeless even to her own ears. Even if he hadn’t been offered a position within the CIA, Jack would’ve eventually returned to his responsibilities at the New York SSR and she’d remain in Los Angeles, and even if by some miracle he felt the same way about her, the three-hour time difference would’ve been an insurmountable obstacle. So, keeping her feelings to herself was the only logical solution, no matter how much it hurt her. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, (Y/N) entered the building and smiled a little when her eyes landed on Rose and Henry talking at her desk. “Hey, you two. How’d your morning firearms training go, Henry?”

“It was great!” Henry exclaimed with a wide grin. “Miss Roberts here’s a terrific instructor, Agent (Y/L/N), she really knows her stuff!”

Rose patted him on the shoulder and gave (Y/N) a nod of approval. “I can’t take all the credit, since our trainee agent’s a much better listener than most of our seasoned agents; Chief Sousa was really cookin’ with gas when he listened to you and Chief Thompson and decided to recruit him.”

“Well, after all his help on our case, we both knew that Henry here’s just the sort of agent we need working at the SSR.” The trainee agent’s ears turned pink at her praise while she turned back to Rose. “Any messages for me while I was out?”

“Nope, none whatsoever, just your usual bundle of mail!” She replied, her overly-cheerful demeanor and Henry’s sudden interest in the paperweight on her desk making (Y/N) tilt her head in confusion. “I had the fellas leave it in Chief’s office, since he rang ahead and said you’d be in there waiting for an applicant to arrive.”

After a moment’s hesitation, (Y/N) nodded in thanks and bid the two of them goodbye before heading into the office; is it just me or is everyone acting a little weird today, she wondered to herself as she climbed the staircase and walked into the bustling bullpen. She hung her coat on the coat rack in the corner and stopped at her desk long enough to set her hat and purse down on top of the clutter, wincing a little as she examined the piles of documents and empty teacups but electing to ignore it until Daniel returned later that afternoon. Retrieving her reading glasses and entering Daniel’s office, she kept the door open and moved to sit in the chair behind his desk before slipping her reading glasses on and reaching for the bundle of mail addressed to her, crossing her ankles on the edge of the desk while she flicked through the pile.

“Junk…junk…Life Magazine…junk…” (Y/N) muttered under her breath, tossing each piece of mail onto the desk before her. To fill the silence of the office she reached over and switched the radio sitting on the chief’s short filing cabinet on, tuning it until she found a slow melody and lowering the volume so that it was faint background music. A postcard hidden between two advertising brochures caught her eye and she snorted in amusement when she got a clear look at the photograph on the front; Dugan, Sawyer and Pinkerton were seated around a table in a crowded bar, their large mugs of beer raised towards the camera as they beamed from ear-to-ear, and the printing at the top of the postcard read ‘Wish You Were Here!’. Grinning, (Y/N) flipped the postcard over and began to read.

(Y/N),

Here’s proof that me and the guys are doing just fine after all that excitement we’ve had, so you can stop worrying about us now. Next time you and Peggy are in the area, look us up so that we can finally hold that one-armed push-up rematch!

Your friends,

Dugan, Sawyer and Pinkerton

Giving the photograph on the front of the postcard a smile, (Y/N) set it aside with the rest of her mail and placed her reading glasses down on top of it, leaning her elbow on the arm of the chair and resting her head in her hand as she closed her eyes and listened to the radio’s soft music. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the office’s window and warmed her face, and she began to reminisce; she thought about how wonderful Jack’s arms felt around her while they danced, how frightened she’d been of losing him as she worked to treat his hypothermia, how desperately she’d wanted to kiss him once they’d completed their mission in Lithuania…

“Sleepin’ on the job, Specs? I expected more from the SSR’s top codebreaker.”

(Y/N)’s eyes instantly flew open and she sat up so fast in her chair that her nearly-healed stab wound twinged in protest, but she didn’t care. There, with a shoulder resting against the open doorway of Daniel’s office, stood none other than Jack Thompson, with his fedora tilted jauntily on his head and his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. “Jack…” Her heart hammered in her chest when he flashed her his trademark lopsided grin and she felt herself slowly stand up. “What’re you doing here?”

Instead of answering right away, Jack stepped into the office and closed the door before moving to stand in front of the desk. “Since the war ended, I’ve done just about everything I could to live up to everyone’s expectations of a Navy Cross winner; I’ve cheated, lied, back-stabbed and manipulated to get where I am today, all because I believed that I couldn’t ever be more than that goddamn medal. But seeing what Attwell and Hydra did to Michael made me realize that life’s too short to let others dictate it for me, so…” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I turned down the CIA position and I stepped down as Chief of the New York SSR.”

“What?” (Y/N)’s jaw dropped in shock and before she knew it, she’d hurried around the desk to stand before her former partner. “That’s…that’s a massive decision, Jack. Are you sure-?

“Believe me, I’ve never felt surer about anything in all my life,” He insisted, gesturing around Daniel’s office with a wave of his hand. “All of this, being Chief and running my own office, was okay but I know now that I can do more good out there as an active field agent than I can sittin’ behind a desk and playing politics with jerks like Senator Cooper. That’s why I’ve submitted my application to the very-understaffed West Coast SSR; my interview with Danny Boy’s scheduled for three o’clock this afternoon, actually.” While his eyes searched hers, Jack’s hand reached out and lightly caressed the side of her face, and her breath hitched at the gentle touch. “For the first time in a long while, I’m ignoring what other people think I should do and doing exactly what I want to do, and it feels…well, it feels goddamn fantastic.”

“I’m happy for you,” (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was because of Jack’s words or his touch on her cheek, but she took a step closer to him and boldly asked, “But is that the only reason you came back?”

He shook his head, his blue eyes becoming more hesitant as he softly replied, “I met a woman while I was forced to stay in Los Angeles – sarcastic, smart as hell and just as beautiful – and while the two of us worked together to solve a case I started to feel like myself again, like I did before the war. I thought that version of me would stay buried with that white flag on Okinawa but every time she’d flash me that gorgeous smile of hers while we talked and joked with each other, I felt myself begin to change. I began noticing little things, too, like how my heart would race whenever she touched me and how she could brighten my mood just by walking into the room…” Jack gave her a tentative sort of smile. “I’m in love with you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). God knows I don’t deserve to be, baby, but I am.”

Jack’s love confession echoed in (Y/N)’s mind and the world around them seemed to pause as they gazed into each other’s eyes, she overcome with shock at his words and he anxiously waited for a reply. He loves me, she thought to herself in awe, he’s staying in Los Angeles and he loves me. (Y/N) surged forward just as his smile was beginning to falter, flinging her arms around his neck and pulling him down before capturing his lips in a passion-filled kiss; Jack’s arm quickly wrapped around her waist, tugging her closer while he eagerly kissed back and his hand moved to cradle the back of her head. She found herself melting into his embrace and letting out a pleased sigh as his lips dominated hers, knocking his fedora off his head so that she could card her fingers through his hair, but their kiss came to an end when they were forced to come up for air.

Struggling to catch her breath, (Y/N) pulled back far enough to get a good look at Jack and grinned as she took in his rumpled hair and red lipstick-stained lips; she held his face between her hands and her heart warmed in her chest at the way he was looking at her. “I love you, Jack Thompson, with all my heart.” Jack’s face broke out into a brilliant smile that she couldn’t help but return. “So, you’re really going to stay here in Los Angeles?”

“Mm-hmm.” He leaned in and began pressing gentle kisses along her jaw.

“But what about the sweltering heat?”

“I’ll invest in a Stark Industries fan.”

Jack’s lips grazed a patch of skin beneath her ear that forced her to suppress a moan. “T-the lack of decent pizza joints?”

“Pizza’s overrated, baby.”

“And…and all the annoying people?”

At that, Jack pressed a final kiss to her neck and pulled away to give her a teasing look. “Well, I just made out with a woman I once considered to be the most annoying person on the West Coast, so I don’t think anyone else’ll be a problem for me.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes as he chuckled and rested his forehead against hers, their noses rubbing together while his lips ghosted over hers. “Face it, Specs, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy.”

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck again and smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Flyboy.”

Jack flashed her his trademark lopsided grin before capturing her lips again and as they stood there, kissing in the middle of the office where they’d first met while the radio continued playing in the background, (Y/N) couldn’t help but think that their adventures as Specs and the Flyboy had only just begun.