Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Agent Carter. This is fanfiction.

Jack winced as he sagged gingerly into his chair. He reached a hand up to his chest and rubbed gently around the bandaged wound. Unable to ease the ache, he sighed and leaned back heavily, soaking in the bright, yellow glow of the morning sun through the blinds of his windows. He never thought he would see this office again.

Especially not after that bastard shot him.

He reached for his briefcase and pulled out a file, flipping it opened to a mugshot drawing. Jack couldn’t forget that face if he tried. It was practically seared into his eyelids, accompanied by the cold sound of gunfire and pain.

He had woken up in the hospital disoriented. It turned out Sousa had wanted to speak with him before he left for the airport and had found him bleeding on the carpet with a hole in his chest. They were able to get him on the operating table in time (Jack was none the less grumpy to have to sit and deal with the dry heat for several more weeks). He was in and out of it the first few days after the surgery but once he was well enough to be on his feet, he had half a mind to strangle Sousa when he was told they had no leads other than the mugshot sketch.

Sousa suspected the man had targeted Jack because of his position as Chief but the circumstances didn’t add up. All signs pointed to a skilled and experienced hitman. He was in and out of the hotel like a ghost. No one could recall anything peculiar about the man and no incriminating evidence was found.

Yet he failed to ensure his “target” was shot six ways from Sunday?

No, Jack was collateral damage. That man was after something else and the whole L.A. department of the SSR couldn’t figure it out.

It wasn’t until he was reviewing over the investigation with his own eyes that it occurred to him that something was missing from his briefcase. He had a file on Carter that he had tried his best to put out of his mind when she and her glorified companions dragged him along on another one of her harebrained missions—a file that he was sure he had packed away in a subtle side compartment.

This admittedly made his blood run cold. Broaching the subject with the SSR was about as appealing as having a root canal without painkillers. He wasn’t even supposed to be in possession of the file—derived from shady means as it was—and as much as Carter ran him up the walls, it ate at him to think that this was an action wholly not in her benefit.

Not to mention, Jack was sorely placed on yet another dangerous precipice.

He was after all, now an “ally” of Carter’s, loose as that term was. He was pretty sure he made that clear when he went shucks and teamed up with her to thwart the next apocalyptic event (but he was enough of an asshole to admit that given the chance, he might have chosen the other side if meant saving his own hide).

Jack sank into his chair and rubbed at his temples. If only he’d known. Carter had that tendency to inspire idiotic heroism in just about anyone daring to look past her pretty face, and Jack, who thought he knew her methods well enough to be immune, stupidly gave in when she took a split second break from saving the world to work her saintly machinations on him.

Carter was a blasted conundrum.

She was a pain from day one, insolent and snippy—though never unprofessional—and sarcastic and haughty in a way that definitely didn’t do any favors for the English. She was ambitious and unconventional for a woman, dolling up like the best of them and proving herself to be as much of a magnet as she was a deterrent for men. If he had a nickel for every poor soul looking to get lucky only to be smartly whipped into place, he’d have enough to quit his damn job and buy a yacht.

He did find amusement in riling her up though. Carter never did hide her dislike towards him so it made it easy for him to root out her peeves (and perpetuate them in a ruthless fashion). She wanted to be called Peggy or Carter but Jack went out of his way to call her Marge, which he knew she hated. He was always the first to give his lunch or dinner order, sporadically making complicated food stipulations to see if he could trip her up. He used to ask for coffee multiple times a day but when she delivered what could only be described as sewage, he stopped. He knew he was being taken the mickey out of because the coffee she served during meetings was passable.

At his most humane moments, he would feel bad.

But then Carter would find ways to correct him. Direct annoying calls to him. Or give him the run around.

The worst was when she would solve his cases before he could get around to them. His saving grace was that she was never praised for it but rather promptly put down for attempting to do so. It was at these times Jack could see the anger in her eyes. With a personality like that, she was probably itching to get revenge on all her bullheaded male coworkers but when she turned out to be the heroine of the day, of the city; he was left in the dust like a useless sidearm no one wanted.

He couldn’t even feel good about his new position as Chief because a healthy portion of the office was suddenly star-struck by the inane brilliance of their underdog agent. He was only able to run the SSR because most of the older agents held firmly onto their patriarchal beliefs and was all too willing to parade Carter around as a mascot to lift men’s spirits if it meant preserving their institution.

He could practically hear her now, low heels clacking along the linoleum floors, quick and light as they homed in on his cubby office—

Jack straightened in his chair as his door flew wide open. Carter glared at him, fierce as the day they met, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

“Carter, what in the blazes are you doing? A knock would have sufficed!” he exclaimed sourly.

She slammed the door shut and crossed her arms, leveling him with a look of judgment that was sure to put his Gam Gam’s to shame. He was pretty sure he hadn’t stepped on any toes recently but Carter had a knack for sniffing out holes and spinning tales no one else saw coming—and coincidentally be in the thick of it. He took a deep breath and prepared for her dramatics.

“Why aren’t you in L.A.?” she snapped. “I was told your recovery would be significantly longer.”

“Are you upset that I cut your little reign of terror short?” At her scoff, he laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t hear about you nagging McAdams left and right. I sent you back to New York to wrap a few things up for me, not to take over.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Agent McAdams is more susceptible to hearing me out. I’m hardly taking advantage. A few suggestions and all of sudden I’m being accused of having one foot in the door.” She gave him a once over. “Though you’re not looking all that well… Has your doctor been informed you’re currently on the other side of the country?”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like crap?” He scooted forward in his chair, grimacing slightly at the pain. He caught a flash of concern across Carter’s face. Jeez, if she started babying him now, he might as well hand in his badge.

“Your words, not mine,” she stated.

“Why are you making such a big deal about it? You were up and running the day after you had a rebar go straight through you.”

That threw her off her high horse. “You knew about that?”

“Hustled it out of that butler friend of yours when you didn’t seem like your perky, annoying self,” he said, toying with a pen on his desk.

“And that is all?” She had a guilty feel about her.

“Yes… Why? You got something you need to tell me?”

Considering that Carter was conducting investigations outside of SSR resources again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. Fortunately, she made no further comment on the matter. Instead, her eyes roamed over the surface of his desk and stopped on the file he had been staring at.

“No luck finding him?” she asked.

He sighed. “Nope.”

He could see the wheels turning in her head. He knew she knew the case stank to high hell, and after what they’ve been through, it was hard to push even simple conspiracies aside. He thought about telling her about her file. While it was something he couldn’t tell Sousa, Carter deserved to know that the information he had tried to use as blackmail against her was now probably circulating through unsavory hands.

“Carter…” he began. Damn, this was going to bite.

She turned to meet his gaze.

“The man—”

The door barged open. A young blond man poked his head in. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Jack hoped his face conveyed his displeasure across. Did no one knock anymore?

Carter turned expectantly towards the youngster. “Yes?”

He stepped in and Jack could see he was wearing an expensively tailored suit, most recently seen in some model advertisements. He even had the watch. High society kid if the hair and hands were anything to go by.

“Here are the files and notes you asked for,” he said to Carter.

She took them from him and thumbed through them quickly. “That was fast. I hope you’ve done a thorough job.”

He stuck his chest out. “Of course.”

Jack for the life of him, could not recall who the fresh-faced chump was. Not that he was any good with faces. He sometimes confused the billionaire Stark with random punks across the city.

“Who are you?” Jack barked.

He stood ramrod straight. “A-agent Cornwall, sir.”

“Who?”

Carter gave Jack an exasperated look. “He’s the new hire. Didn’t McAdams tell you?”

He certainly did not. “He doesn’t even have peach fuzz!”

Cornwall turned pink. “I’m 21, sir!”

Jack shot Carter an incredulous glance but she looked like she was losing her patience. “He graduated top of the class from a prestigious university and has done very well so far—now can we move on? You had something you wanted to tell me? Or else I’m going to head out and run down some leads.” She waved the papers in her hand.

Jack leaned back in dismissal. “Whatever I say can wait. You can go.”

Carter opened her mouth to press but Jack shook his head. She headed for the door. “You coming, Agent Cornwall?”

The kid nearly tripped over himself in his haste. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Jack snickered as the door shut after them. Carter liked to be called Ma’am just about as much as she liked to be called Marge.

“It can wait” pushed onward the boundary of two weeks. Jack, after being stuck in L.A. longer than expected, had a mountain of paperwork to sort and finish on top of his Chief duties. Carter made herself busy chasing after residual leads on the Whitney Frost/Secret Council case and spent more time out of the office than in. Cornwall, who Jack found very trying, trailed after her half the time. As far as partners went, Jack would’ve paired her up with someone more seasoned but he supposed she wanted a pair of fresh eyes she was sure a diabolical organization didn’t have their hands in the pockets of. Jack didn’t blame her, though he would’ve liked to do some of his own legwork if it meant getting out of his chair.

It was after a long day that he decided to stop by the dance club near his apartment for a drink. He normally downed a few beers at the bar a short detour from his usual route home, preferring the dark and steady atmosphere to a fancy one but tonight he just wanted to get slammed drunk and fall into bed.

After side stepping the giddy patrons and ordering a shot at the counter, he was surprised to see Carter alone at a booth. She had donned an elegant dress of emerald, one of those made specifically for dancing, and had her hair tied up in a quaint bun. Her make-up was darker than he was used to seeing on her and she had on a set of jewelry that she would never wear at the office.

She actually took his breath away.

He debated whether he should go over and announce his presence but found his feet moving on their own accord, his initial mission shoved to the backburner.

“Carter, fancy seeing you here!”

Startled, she blinked up at him in surprise. “Chief!”

“Are you undercover or something? You know you have to tell me these things before you do them. We have rules to follow and for good reason.”

“N-no,” she straightened in her seat. “I’m here with a friend. She wanted me to come out with her tonight.”

She appeared flustered and it took him a second to realize that she was a little embarrassed. It was strange. He glanced at the two empty glasses on her table, which might account for her lack of pomp.

“Where is she? You don’t look like you’re having any fun.”

She shrugged. “She’s dancing with some bloke. The dance club isn’t exactly my sort of venue.”

“Me either.” He bit the bullet and took a seat across from her in the booth and took it as a good sign when she didn’t frown at him.

“So what are you doing here? Are you on a date?” she asked.

“No, I live just down the street. I was hoping to get a few drinks in before going home and sleeping it off.”

“Charming. So this is what you do on a Friday night.” There was a glint in her eyes that dulled the bite of her sarcasm.

Jack rolled his eyes. He ordered a few more drinks for their table from a passing waiter. “Looks like you had the same idea.”

She hummed. “Touché.”

They sat there for a while, mostly in silence until their drinks arrived. Jack drank his quickly though Carter nursed hers.

“My, you’re certainly popular tonight,” Carter said. “That’s the fourth lady looking to see if you’re available.”

“What?” He glanced out into the crowd in confusion.

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Well, they’re not going to approach if they see me sitting with you. I swear that last lady gave me the stink eye.”

Jack really wished he could fight off the flush rising over his neck. Half the time he didn’t consider Carter to be a true dame, not when she enjoyed scuffling as much as the next man and could shoot with the best of them, but the fact that people could mistake them for a couple only cemented the notion that Carter was a young, available lady.

“I’m sure you have your own fair share of suitors as well,” he said dryly. “That guy has been watching you all night.”

“I make sure to scare them off with my patented glare,” she replied. “See look, he’s asking someone else for a dance.”

“If only it was so easy for men. Girls like to come over in groups and tease us and then I have to be on eggshells around them, much less I make them cry. Crying women are the worst.”

Carter eyed him oddly. “Is that a running problem for you?”

“Is that not true?” He pushed his glass away when she continued to look at him as if he were an extraterrestrial. A loose tongue never did Jack any favors and he had to remind himself that he was in the company of the last person who needed more ammo against his questionable character.

They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a chipper brunette, clad in a stunning blue shimmer of a dress.

“Look at you two peas in a pod! Peggy, trust you to find the only man in the club who likes to have as little fun as you do!”

Carter rolled her eyes. “Worse. He’s my boss.”

Her eyebrows went high. “You have to be pulling my leg. How do you do this to yourself?!”

“Apparently quite naturally,” Carter mumbled into her glass.

Jack hid a poorly concealed smirk.

The woman curtsied at Jack. “Hi, I’m Angie. English over here may be a bore but I think life’s too short to not go out and live a little.”

“Considering what I do on a daily basis, I think I deserve a nice night in,” Carter commiserated.

Angie ignored her.

“I was nearly hit by a truck today! How’s that for excitement?” Carter sighed in exasperation.

“Work is work, Peggy. I doubt even you consider chasing bad guys a form of entertainment.” Angie squinted at Jack. “Hey, I remember you. You were at the hotel, along with that sweet, dark-haired fellow.”

“Yeah… I’m Jack Thompson.” He narrowed his eyes at Carter. “Is she supposed to know what you really do at the phone company?”

She pulled her upper lip back. “Gee, I wonder what tipped her off—perhaps putting me in handcuffs in the backseat of a government car!”

Okay, he had been following orders so sue him. “Alcohol does not make you a happy person.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” she snorted.

Angie set her hands on her hips and observed the pair critically. “Maybe a dance will mend things right.”

“You go on right ahead, Angie,” said Carter. “I think I’ll have another drink.”

“I was talking about you,” she insisted.

“I’m happy where I am.”

Angie pouted and took the glass from Carter’s hand. She pulled both her and Jack to the floor.

“Angie, what do you think you’re doing?! This isn’t a good idea!” Carter yelped.

“Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “I said you’ll have fun and I’ll make sure you have it!”

Jack cleared his throat. “And what about me? Don’t I have any say in this?”

Angie grabbed his hand and placed it in Carter’s right. She directed his other hand to her hip and deposited Carter’s left onto his shoulder.

“All I’m asking for is one dance. One! Please?” She didn’t give either of them a chance to answer. “Thanks! I’ll be watching from our table,” and scurried off.

Jack cleared his throat as they swayed to the music. “This is awkward.”

“Quite.” She was staring adamantly at a point over his shoulder.

“Your friend, ahem, has a strong personality. A lot like you, actually. Can’t take no for an answer.”

“Ha, ha,” she sounded dryly.

He was feeling unusually warm, a side effect solely not the alcohol’s doing. Her hand was firm in his and the song, while not slow, was lax enough for him to feel the heat radiating from her every time they came close together. He could smell her flowery perfume, something she must’ve spritzed only for special occasions because she wore no noticeable perfume while on the job.

Even after several drinks, her movements were sharp and precise but her cheeks were rosy and there was a glimmer of amusement rounding her painted lips and darkened lashes. He realized that the two of them were finding gratification in each other’s awkward tells.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” Jack said. “I was afraid you would step on my toes out of habit.”

“As if!” she scoffed. “But thank you anyways. You dance better than I expected.”

He gave her a twirl. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I figured you to be a lounge guy—you know, drinks and cigars encompassed in mellow ambiance.”

He did a little shrug. “I don’t really smoke.”

She gave him a cheeky smile, a first he realized.

“But you do socially,” she continued, nearly taking the lead when Jack halted.

“How did you know?”

“Aren’t we in the business of knowing?” she countered, brown eyes flashing.

The music began to slow, signaling the lull before the next song.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Keep in mind that you’re the only one in the office with adequate covert experience.”

This gave her pause and catching the question in his eyes, she led him to an alcove, away from the bustle. All traces of the light-hearted Carter dissipated but she remained loose, exhibiting none of the strict tension he associated with her at the office.

She faced him and lowly asked, “I know there’s something you’ve been meaning to tell me, so out with it.”

“Regarding?” Jack wasn’t sure why he was playing dumb because Carter was probably a trained interrogator. She had a talent for reading people and he definitely won no awards for acting.

“The incident back in L.A., where the man shot you?” She was careful to keep her tone even. “There’s something you’re not telling me. That’s why you’ve been acting anxious around me since you’ve been back.”

“That’s because Cornwall, your pet protégé, has been getting on my nerves! He barges into my office, asks stupid questions, and hovers around me during my break—he’s a kiss-ass!”

“He is not! Though I’m glad you’ve resorted to cussing in my presence regardless of gender, I need you to stop beating around the bush!”

“What bush?”

Carter stared at him with her lips pressed tight.

“Alright, fine. I was hoping to tell you at headquarters but you had to go and dig again. And we were having such a good time, why ruin it?”

“Why does that not make me feel better?”

“Remember back at Stark’s mansion, I was trying to talk you out of your vacation and back to New York? Remember what I said about your history? About what you’ve done during the war?”

“Yes, I remember. It’s not every day that someone tries to blackmail me,” she said crossly.

“Yeah, well, I had proof in the form of a redacted file that no one was supposed to know about, that I had in my briefcase.”

“That’s what he took? This man went out of his way to shoot you for a file on me?” She was angry. “I can’t believe you.”

“You see why it’s something I can’t tell anyone, right?”

“Clearly.” She clenched her fists. “Your ambition dragged you into this mess and I was unfortunate enough to be caught in it. I ought to slap you for your stupidity.”

“Go ahead then. Punch my lights out.”

She would probably knock him out like last time but this time, her fury was personal and that caused a dreaded sensation in his stomach to grow. He never thought he would get soft enough to care what she thought of him. It never bothered him before.

She watched him with her dark eyes before shaking her head. “Appealing as that sounds, it serves no purpose.”

She turned to leave, bumping into Angie who had been tentatively watching from the sideline.

“Is everything okay?” Angie asked.

“We’re going home,” Carter replied stiffly. She clasped Angie’s arm and tugged her toward the exit.

Jack slumped against the wall, the music loud and resonating through the din of chatter and silverware. He ran a hand over his face. He didn’t think he’d feel so low. Worst of all, he didn’t have a way to fix it.

Jack honestly expected Carter to give him hell when she arrived to work the following Monday but she just sat at her desk and started working like it was any other day. She didn’t say hello or spare him a glance but then again, she usually didn’t unless she had something to say or it was just the two of them together.

He spent the rest of the day watching her carefully. She acted the same even if she did allow Cornwall to buffer all means of conversation, i.e. progress reports and informing him of their whereabouts when they were doing legwork.

As the week continued, Jack found that he had mixed feelings about her behavior. Carter wasn’t exactly giving him the cold shoulder or silent treatment—she looked at him when he made announcements or orders, acknowledged him when he asked something of her, and respectfully offered her opinions during discussions—but she made an effort to avoid a direct confrontation with him.

That should have suited Jack just fine.

Only it didn’t.

The issue kept dangling at the back of his mind, constantly reminding him that it needed to be resolved. Ironic as it was, Carter was one of the few people he could be honest with. She saw right through his selfish façade and pulled no punches in their banter. She was the only person who knew his secret and never once used it against him. In spite of it all, she believed him capable of good.

That itself should’ve made him flinch in disgust.

Jack was in the habit of placing himself first, morals be damned.

And yet when he saw her laughing with McAdams in the breakroom, he nearly succumbed to an irrational bout of jealousy. He was being thrown all out of sorts and it was her fault.

Everything came to a head the following week.

“Why is Agent Cornwall on filing duty?” Carter began irately as soon as the door to Jack’s office closed. “He said you ordered him there and wouldn’t tell me why.”

Jack lifted the hat from his face. He had been taking a quick kip before the morning started but unlike the other agents who arrived early to grab breakfast from the breakroom, Carter was rearing to go.

“Well, good morning to you too, Carter!” he mumbled as he stretched. “Cornwall… he got into an altercation so I’m giving him some grunt work for a couple of days.”

“Altercation?!” She placed her hands on his desk. “What sort of altercation?”

He leaned back into his chair. “He socked Jones in the face, who by the way, is making a big deal of it. Man takes a hit and thinks we owe him the world.”

“I don’t understand. Why would he hit Agent Jones?”

He glanced at her before shaking his head. “That’s not important. You know how Jones is.”

Jones was vocal about a lot of things, Carter being one of them. She may have learned to ignore it but it wasn’t so easy for a fresh young buck like Cornwall.

“Well, I can’t have Agent Cornwall on filing duty,” she argued. “We were going to go by the factory today and I need someone to back me up.”

“Get someone else to go.”

“I need someone I can trust,” she emphasized.

“Carter, I can’t just relieve Cornwall out of his misery—how would it look to everyone else if I’m flip-flopping on the rules? No is no.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine.”

“Thank God,” Jack muttered as she left his office. It took him a minute to realize that Carter had grabbed her things and clopped out of the bullpen toward the elevators. He scrambled for his jacket, nearly tripping over his feet as he stumbled into the bullpen.

“McAdams! You’re in charge until I get back!” he called out.

“What?” the man blurted through a mouthful of pastry. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll answer that when I get back!”

He hurried down the elevators, rushing past the telephone operators and onto the street. He caught a flash of Carter as she entered a car parked a little ways down from the corner. He sprinted over and whipped open the passenger door.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed once she got over her initial shock.

He caught a glimpse of a small gun in her hand that she had probably aimed at him when he barged in without warning. He made a note to himself to not startle her anymore, much less she get too trigger happy.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he countered. “You’re going to the factory, aren’t you? Even after you specifically said you needed back up. Are you trying to make me look bad? If something happened to you, how would I explain it?”

“I’m just doing surveillance! No need to call the cavalry,” she said dryly.

“Why do I not believe you one bit? You find trouble wherever you go!”

“I’m doing my job, Thompson! This is critical to the investigation!”

“Really? Tell me.”

She sighed and slid her gun back into the glove compartment. “There’s a man in charge there who we believe to have ties to the Council, or at the very least, knows something about it. We’ve been keeping tabs on him for a couple of weeks. We’ve searched his home and his estranged wife’s house and found nothing. I was hoping to get into his office and see if there’s anything of significance.”

“And you were hoping to do this today?”

“Well, why not? He’s gone upstate for a convention. I don’t have to break into the place in the dead of the night.” At his look, she added, “Not everything has to be so clandestine, Jack. You don’t think I want to keep a normal sleeping schedule like everyone else?”

“Is there anything normal about you?” he asked. “Alright, then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

“You’re coming? What about the office? And your chest!”

“Don’t worry, McAdams got it and it’s been two months—there is no wound, just a sad scar.” Jack slid back in his seat and adjusted his hat back over his eyes. “Besides, someone’s got to make sure you don’t get in over your head. The paperwork would be killer.”

They stopped in sight of a moderate-sized facility, parking just out of surveillance. Carter promptly shut the engine and exited the vehicle, leaving Jack to follow after her. She popped open the back of the trunk and pulled out a white lab coat. She slipped it on and clipped her hair tightly back. She then put on a pair of brown eyeglass frames and completed the ensemble with clipboard full of forms.

“Here.” She pulled out another lab coat, presumably one meant for Cornwall.

He gingerly took it from her, eyeing her as if she were mental. “What are we doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re pretending to be health inspectors.”

Jack shrugged off his jacket and pulled on the starch lab coat. “Why? I thought we were going to sneak in. The security seems kind of lax.”

“Out here maybe but getting to his office will be our biggest hurdle.” She pushed the trunk closed. “Besides, I like to work smarter, not harder.”

He flinched when she slipped a pair of clunky glasses onto his face. “Is this really necessary?” he grumbled, scrunching his nose up and down at the unfamiliar weight.

Carter rolled her eyes. “No, but this is my show and I would like us to look like a pair of proper boffins. Now let me do all the talking and put a smile on that surly face.” She pushed a second clipboard into his chest.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mocked as he followed her.

They entered the building and greeted the guard sitting in an alcove set into the wall behind a long desk.

“Good morning,” Carter announced evenly. “We’re from the Health Department. My name is Ruth Barton and this is my assistant, James Smith.”

Her lack of accent caught Jack off guard. He had not expected her to sound American. She held out two IDs for the guard to examine. From over her shoulder, he saw one of them had Cornwall’s face plastered onto it. Well, at least they were both blond.

The guard looked between them warily. “You’re health inspectors?”

“Is there a problem?” she asked innocently.

“No, let me call the manager and see who is available to speak with you.”

They waited while the guard spoke with someone on the other line. Jack fiddled with his glasses every other second until Carter elbowed him in the side. He shot her a nasty look, not quite understanding how she wasn’t bothered by the plastic menaces.

About fifteen minutes had passed when a tall lanky gentleman in a button up and slacks arrived.

“Hi! Welcome! I’m Mr. Lambert,” he greeted. “I’m one of the supervisors on staff.” He chuckled to himself. “I’m kind of new here so please excuse my nervousness. They didn’t tell me anyone from the Health Department was coming.”

“That’s the point of an impromptu inspection, isn’t it?” Jack replied sternly. The man was a poor imitation of Samberly and Jack wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with him if he proved to just as exasperating.

Carter elbowed him in the side again. She cleared her throat. “Please, let’s begin with a quick tour.”

“Sure!” Lambert said brightly. “Right this way.”

They meandered this way and that, Lambert showing them room after room and explaining the procedures. It hadn’t been a quarter hour and Jack was bored out of his mind. Plus, the glasses were becoming a sore on his nose. He sniffled in distaste, which seemed to cause Lambert to nervously wipe at his forehead.

Jack pulled his lips back into a smirk. As they passed by a conveyor belt, he pointedly made a note on his form. He frowned disapprovingly as they observed a few of the workers on duty. He ran a finger across a table.

Lambert looked about ready to faint. Carter on the other hand, might just murder Jack.

Well, nothing new.

Eventually, they reached a hallway leading toward the fancier offices. Carter immediately perked in interest, subtly casing the location of cameras.

“I was hoping to meet with the owner…” She made a show of peering at the form over her specs. “Charles Richmond.”

“Oh, he’s not in today. He’s at a convention north of the city but if there’s anything you need to ask him, I can help with.”

Carter tapped her pen thoughtfully. “Which one is his office?”

“The one on the far right, at the end of the corridor,” he answered, frowning at the strange question.

“Thank you very much.” She grabbed him by his shoulders and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

Jack might as well have been fried.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he shouted.

She pulled back, lips flushed, and dragged Lambert towards a broom closet. She pushed him in just as the dazed man conked out.

Jack gaped at her. “You seriously can’t be that good of a kisser!”

“Specially made lipstick. Do try to keep up, Jack.” She was back to her English accent.

“Why the heck would you have something like that around?!”

“Would you be quiet?” she hushed, glancing up and down the hallway. “I like to keep alternative methods on hand. The poor man doesn’t deserve to be brutally knocked out.”

“And he deserves a good one on the lips?” he snapped. “No wonder you can’t work with the other agents—they’ll think you’re a… a…” He stopped.

“A what, Jack?” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Please do enlighten me.”

“You know what,” he said grouchily. “You just can’t go around kissing whoever you like.”

“Well, don’t worry. You’re safe from me,” she said dryly.

A flush crept up his neck. “Wasn’t what I meant,” he grumbled.

She plucked a brooch from her blouse and handed it to him. “Use that to jimmy the lock to Richmond’s office. Meanwhile, I’ll head down to check the lower level.”

He grabbed her by the wrist before she could run off. “We have to stick together. It’s not wise to split up. That’s the whole point of back-up.”

“Jack, I’ll be fine. Haven’t I proved myself to be a capable agent more than enough?”

“You sure don’t mind rubbing it in my face every time,” he mumbled under his breath. “But that’s not the point. You’re still one agent and I’m one agent. If there’s danger, we’re going to be outnumbered.”

She sighed. “I’m just taking a look.”

“What about surveillance?”

“Temporary jammer.”

“Even the one down the hall?” he asked, pointing to the camera hanging in the corner.

“Yes,” she answered firmly. “And we don’t have much time left, so if you please, I’ll just have a look downstairs while you pat down his office.”

Carter was stubborn and Jack was experienced enough to know she wasn’t going to budge even if the world was ending around her. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her, not when time was the deciding factor, so he huffed angrily and shooed her off with his hand. Carter turned and ran down the hall without another word. He snatched off his glasses and pocketed them.

As he fumbled with the lock, the anger turned to a low simmer. He was the boss, wasn’t he? He made the rules. Why is it that Carter always got to change them? She was supposed to take his orders, not the other way around. She was going to drag his career down if he couldn’t run a tight ship!

The lock popped opened and Jack squirreled inside, searching a little too loudly to be considered discreet. He quickly checked behind the painting on his way over to the desk and tapped the heels of his shoes against the floorboards for hollow spaces before making his way to the desk. He wasn’t going to waste his time reading paperwork and files unless it was a last resort. Secret compartments were where he would hedge his first bet.

As Jack suspected, there was one under the desk. Hardly original. Dooley had a similar one under his, stashed with his favorite liquor for the bad days. He used to share a round of drinks with Jack on those late nights. Jack shook himself out of his reverie. He picked at the lock with the brooch and after an embarrassing minute, it popped opened. It was almost too easy and he was right.

There was enough hard evidence linking this factory front to the council to put Richmond in a tight corner. The flunky was either a fool to leave papers in a relatively accessible place or arrogant enough in his position to flaunt it.

An uneasy chill went up his spine. He had to find Carter fast. He grabbed the papers and files, thrusting them into an empty travel bag by the door. He snapped it shut, hefted it by the handles, and left the room. He remembered some of the doors had an electronic lock so he doubled back to Lambert, who was still conked out from the kiss, and took his key card. It may not have full access but maybe it was enough to get him downstairs to where Carter was searching. He could only assume she either had a device to let her through doors or she had swiped it off someone else on the way.

He made his way down the stairs and through several halls, where the employees paid him no attention (judging from Lambert’s tour, it seemed more than likely they were unaware the factory was a front to begin with), and entered through another set of stairs before hitting a dead end in the likes of a locked door. He tried the key card but was swiftly denied. It didn’t take him more than a split second to resort to his firearm. Worked like a charm, of course. The halls were empty around this area and he proceeded carefully, mentally mapping his way so he would not get lost on the way out.

He entered a vast production room, as large as an airship hangar. The lights were dimmer here, attached to a high ceiling Jack couldn’t hit with his right arm if he had a baseball. There was a narrow catwalk leading to several off-sight points, making it easy to overlook the production process below. There were vats and belts and containers that Jack couldn’t make heads or tails of and frankly he didn’t care at the moment. He needed to find Carter and get out of here with the proof they had now and call for back up.

He turned a hallway and saw two burly men frog marching his agent toward a narrowed corridor. She had a bruise on her head. It was too late to back out—they saw him just as he did. Jack dropped the bag and pulled out his gun. One of them released Carter and mirrored him but the other held a gun to her head.

“Jack!” she cried. “Don’t be silly! Go!”

“Like hell,” he snapped back. He wasn’t going to be a coward this time. Inside, he was screaming at himself to run but his feet wouldn’t move. He feigned all the bravado he could muster, gritting his teeth as he stared them down. His pulse was racing and he could feel his hands get clammy.

Carter, dammit, despite looking a little tousled, was as impeccable and cool as usual, with a cold, hard pistol digging into her skull. Her brown eyes were sharp, looking every bit a martyr and resigned to doing everything she could to save him.

He had to be worth something, more than just himself. He knew Carter trusted him about as far as she could throw him but she thought he was a good man and that meant something to him. He wasn’t going to run. If they wanted to kill her or him, they would’ve done it already. All they had to do was stall long enough for the SSR to clue in. The lapdog, Cornwall, was bound to cause a fuss if he didn’t hear from Carter. He knew about the case.

“Jack!” Carter shouted again, though this time the man shook her hard for her outburst.

“Easy there!” Jack started. He held up his hands and splayed them, the gun hanging loosely from his thumb.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I do not own Agent Carter. This is fanfiction.

Carter let out an expletive that would have had any proper man or lady turning red. She looked angrier at him than she had at the beefed-up gentlemen.

She glared, arms crossed, at the steel door barring their way from freedom. They were in a storage room of sorts, gray walls and a meager light to keep them company. “Of all the stupid things you could do—why the hell didn’t you run at the first chance you got? Now the two of us are stuck here like a pair of arses!”

Jack, propped on the cold floor, rubbed at his head where Tweedledee (or Tweedledum) whacked him. They had also confiscated his handgun and bag. “What was I supposed to do? Just leave you behind? Who knows what they’ll do!”

“Gee, thanks. I didn’t realize I needed a chaperone while knee deep in shit. You could’ve gotten help!”

“You’re awfully mouthy,” he mumbled. “And like I said, I couldn’t just leave you. It wasn’t right.”

“Since when has that mattered to you?”

Jack winced. That stung. It also caused a stretch of fury to build within him. “Low blow, Peggy. And here I thought we were in it together.”

She sucked in a breath and for once, Jack was satisfied to see a flash of chagrin. She focused her attention back on the door, examining the lock and hinges.

Jack scratched at the cement with his shoe, the movement and distraction easing his umbrage as he watched Carter move about the room with a detached quality.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were the kind of man who would flee at the first chance he got,” she said after a lengthy silence. “I got us into this mess. The way I operate has always been all in and I’ve found that it leads me to success but I’m not infallible. All it takes is for me to get too cocky and others get hurt.”

Jack didn’t say anything, not having the words for a confession like that but he met her eyes to show that he acknowledged her olive branch.

She took a seat on the floor next to him. “It would have been a major consolation to know that you had gotten away.”

“Well, it don’t matter now,” he shrugged. “I’m here. Nothing can change that.”

Contrite, she nodded. “You’re right. I apologize. Arguing will not help us escape.”

He grunted, leaving it at that, and she leaned back against the wall, the quiet washing over them. After a while, Jack was overwhelmed with the notion that the two of them were sharing some kind of moment and that left him backpedaling. Of course, on one hand, it was nice and satisfying to have Carter let her guard down around him and have that shared camaraderie he so often saw her have with Sousa, that butler, or even the likes of Stark. It even made him feel warm. On the other hand, Carter idle in the face of danger made him uneasy. Was she sitting there to comfort him or was she truly stuck?

He bit the bullet and shot up his feet. “Well, don’t let me down now. You’re the agent with the wow factor. You got a fancy trinket on you somewhere that’ll help us get out?”

She quirked an eyebrow in feigned offense and stood up, dusting off her pants as she did so. “Do you even have to ask?” Then with a slight upturn of her nose, “You may want to turn around for this part.”

Jack kind of hated her for putting that curiosity in him.

“Thank God we’re out,” Jack whispered as he followed Carter down the hallway. “I was afraid I would have to resort to eating that can of ham he threw at my face before locking us in.”

“Would you be quiet?” Carter hushed, scrunching her nose at him. She probably had enough of the canned meat during the war too. She peered around the corner for guards. “Trust men to only think of their stomachs.”

“Hey! All I had for breakfast was half an egg sandwich!”

She ducked under the shadows as they headed toward another set of hallways. “I saw an exit this way earlier. We need to move fast and get back to the car. The guards are probably on to us.”

Carter pulled out a miniscule hand mirror and brought it to the edge of the corner wall. She let out a hiss and roughly pushed Jack toward a small damp alcove of pipes hidden in the dim part of the hallway.

She covered his mouth with her hand when he opened it to hash a retort and he barely managed to stifle a grunt when she squeezed the two of them into a space that was clearly not made for two.

A guard turned around the corner just then and the pair stilled, pressed together in an uncomfortable and very compromising manner. Jack shifted, caught in a sore spot between the warm pipe and the female body flushed against him. Carter didn't look the bit phased. Instead her eyes were trained on the guard like a new tech laser point. She might as well have been a statue with the way she had stopped breathing.

The guard popped out a smoke. Jack wanted to roll his eyes when Carter didn't move. If she kept this up, she would go blue in the face. The two of them could handle a single guard, couldn't they? A quick one, two punch should do it. When Jack went to move his arm to gesture however, she pressed none too gently against his side with the tips of her knuckles.

Jack nearly keeled over. He settled for a glare but in the dark, he wasn't sure if it was relayed with the strength he wanted it to. If it were possible, the movement had them even closer than before and now it seemed like there wasn't any room to breathe. His chest felt tight and his head was fuzzy like a field of cotton candy.

It could also be the stifling air induced by the pipes.

A second later, three guards walked around the corner to join the guard smoking, and the four began passing the cigarette between them. That explained why Carter hadn't wanted to act. If by chance they didn't take them down quickly enough, one of the men could easily radio for help.

As they waited for the guards to finish their smoke, Jack found himself mindlessly staring at Carter's lips. When he realized what he was doing, he shook his head furiously.

It was the proximity, dammit. He was a red-blooded male. The inkling was bound to cross his mind, especially when they were stuck in a space smaller than a closet.

He looked at Carter, who was quite the picture up close if he deigned himself to think about it. She was intent and focused but also very beautiful in a way that many woman didn't possess. Maybe it was her eyes, which saw more than the average soldier but was still willing to shine good and truth, or her quick mouth, which held a range of sharp quips and emotions that Jack enjoyed observing on most occasions.

She was fierce, that was for sure, but Jack found that he minded it less and less.

It was in thinking this that Jack realized he was going down a slippery slope. When did Carter become someone he was awed by? Their tentative acquaintance had enough ups and downs to send a guy with common sense running. Somehow (and somewhere in the depths of his guilt were graves turning) he found himself putting on the show of a good agent more and more often when there was no one but for her to see.

He didn't know what that was going to accomplish other than insert himself into her good graces. The question was why. She didn't have connections, she couldn't promote him. What could she do for him other than stay out of trouble (because her closing cases was going to make him look good regardless)?

Was he getting sweet on her?

He had only considered he and Carter as a pair once before, back when they first met at their agency. He had been brazen in the beginning, thinking she was playing coy but time taught him to stay away. A woman like that, while fun to play with, was ultimately determined to become a spinster. He couldn't understand how Cap could've set his sights on her. In fact, he had trouble imagining Carter romantically with anyone despite poking fun at her and Stark while the Leviathan case was ongoing.

She threw all her energy into saving the world. How could she possibly have time for anyone else? Sousa and that scientist were throwing themselves left and right at her when he visited (intervened) in Los Angeles and she still went back to New York. She was just as foolhardy and headstrong as ever, determined to fight bad guys like some selfless comic book hero and to balance the scales for all womankind.

Nah, how could he and Carter work out? He was beginning to see what her friends were talking about. She was too good for the average guy. She needed someone wholesome and brave like Cap (and naive but Jack wasn't about to call his war hero that).

Still, pressed up against Carter would've been memorable if she wasn't honed in on the guards like one of those Russian girls trained in a questionable secret facility. Her attention span was admirable. One wouldn't think she was practically in the embrace of a handsome fellow like himself. Did nothing phase her? If she was at the mercy of Dottie Underwood, would she still be as cool and reserved as she is now?

Come to think of it, Jack wouldn't be surprised if she actually was part of a scientific experiment like her late sweetheart was.

He repressed a groan when one of the pipes got a little too hot against his bare forearm. He hadn't meant to press against it but he was in an unsteady position that didn't help with Carter's weight on him. Thankfully, she must have felt the rumble through his chest and eased up against him, apologetic glance in tow.

The guards, finally finished with their slacking, grounded the cigarette against the ground and left. Carter waited a few seconds before squeezing out. Jack stumbled out, looking ten times more frazzled than she did.

"Never again!" he whispered loudly. If discretion wasn't advised, he would've swore up and down the hallway.

Carter rolled her eyes, brushing her clothes off like she was going for an interview and turned for the hallway they were initially heading toward. He followed after her reluctantly, massaging his tender forearm as he huddled close behind. She should've been thankful that he took the brunt of it.

After a few more close calls (because it was obvious that the whole of the base was looking for them now), they passed through a narrow hallway into an open underpass. They raced toward the fresh air, finally feeling some sense of security. It was about late afternoon, no thanks to the loquacious Lambert, and if they were able to reach the car and drive away for backup, they would be golden.

No such luck. A guard near the fence spotted them immediately and within the span of a few seconds, two more emerged from the side of the building.

"You take the two on the right, I'll take the one on the left!" she shouted.

"What?! What about the car? Maybe we can outrun them!"

"Don't want them to get desperate!" she replied, already covering the distance halfway between them and the guards.

Jack didn't know what she meant until he realized the guards were wielding batons and fists rather than their guns. Their boss wanted them to be taken alive.

Not one to be outdone, Jack took a running start and slammed a solid right hook into one of the men. He dodged as the other one tried to thrust the butt of his baton into his face and Jack countered with a leg under him, sweeping him to the ground. Just as he turned to confront the first man, he was tackled to the dirt. Dazed, Jack strained in every direction, pushing and pulling in an effort to throw the weight of the guard off him, who probably cleared at least forty pounds on him. He could hear Carter fighting a few meters away so at least she was okay. Jack grunted as he tried to aim his fist at the weak spots. He looked up to see the guard (the one who tried to crack his skull with a baton) on his feet and heading toward Jack with an angry face.

Jack groaned. Two against one wasn't going to be pretty. Just as he was onto them, another guard stumbled into him, sending both tumbling over the weedy ground. Carter appeared at the corner of Jack's eye, looking breathless and mussed. She glanced at Jack to see if he needed help but Jack waved her off, signaling to the guard (this one with a broken nose) behind her.

Jack finally managed to get the upper-hand in the wrestling skirmish with the heavy guard, enough to brace his weight and perform a choke-hold. It took a while but eventually, the guard went limp and rolled halfway off. Jack got out from under him and he directed his attention to Carter. Unsurprisingly, she had the two of them knocked out.

He stumbled over to her, panting and checking his ribs for broken ones. "Show off," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes, then widened them. She lunged at him just as a gunshot sounded off, and once again, Jack was on the ground.

"Carter!” he gasped. The air had been knocked out of him. He grabbed her upper arms to check if she was alright but she fought him off.

"I'm fine!" she hissed out. She scrambled to her feet and pulled Jack up just as another bullet went whizzing by them. "Run!"

Jack didn't need to be told twice. They headed toward the fence in the general direction of their vehicle. It was going to be hard to lose them. There wasn't much in the way of cover unless they headed toward the outcropping of buildings on the other end of the field but the two of them were in favor of taking their chances on the car.

Jack glanced behind him and noted around eight guards tailing them. "Shit, it doesn't look good!"

"No use lamenting now!" she replied, then shot him a glare. "I know you can run faster than me, just go ahead and start the car!"

Jack was reluctant to leave her behind, even if it was a few seconds but he couldn't argue the logic of it so he sprinted ahead, refusing to look behind him in case Carter was able to fry him with her eye sockets.

He hopped into the front seat and started the engine, praying it wouldn't start coughing like it would in a drama on the radio. It rumbled on smoothly, like a well-bred animal. Jack grunted in approval.

He started the car rolling, just as Carter gestured from the window for him to scoot to the passenger side. Jack did so on command. It was her car, she knew it better than he did. He also noticed there was a red stain blooming on her upper right arm.

"You're bleeding!"

"It's just a graze. I'll live, provided that we get out of here!" She slammed the door shut and rammed her foot on the pedal.

"Shouldn't I be driving if you're hurt?!"

She glanced at him from the side of her eye. "I’m not going to be any good on shooting duty.”

Jack looked behind him to see two cars in the distance gaining on them. "Just great," he grumbled. "Why can't we catch a break?"

Carter didn't answer him, busy serving left and right as bullets pelted the rear of their car. Jack eyed five men, two in one car and three in the other. They all had guns bigger than the one he had pulled off from one of the unconscious guards.

"Do you have something with a little more power?"

"Check the back," she grunted, and Jack climbed over the seat, narrowly missing a shot to the head as the rear window shattered. Brushing the shards off his clothes, he rummaged the car floor, checking the tucked sides and under the seats before he found a rifle and a quality handgun. It would have to do.

He peered over the edge, trying to aim for the tires. If he could flatten them before they flatten theirs, he would be enjoying a glass of bourbon later.

He shot and missed. He ducked as another round bombarded their vehicle. He fired a few more shots, missing just barely.

"Come on, Chief, they're gaining on us."

"Well, maybe if you had picked a better getaway car," he mumbled under his breath. He jumped up, aiming for one of the shooters this time and nailed him in the torso. Jack reached for a different gun and managed to clip a side view mirror before blowing out one of their tires. The driver attempted to keep his car straight but unwilling to slow down, struggled with it and Jack took the opportunity to shoot him through the shoulder.

Wounded, he drove into a ditch. The other vehicle was faring much better and had gained on them during the commotion. They tailgated the car and crashed into them. Jack lost his footing and tumbled to the car floor. He could hear Carter cussing like a sailor as she attempted to maneuver out of the way.

"Jack! A little help here!"

"I'm on it, I'm on it!" He scrambled up, this time with a handgun but the scumbag from the other vehicle actually had the nads to jump onto their trunk. Jack took a shot at his legs but the man was quick and faster than he could blink, had Jack by the collar.

Carter threw something by his hand and he instinctively used it to whammy the man. Jack's collar was released and he used (what he could now see was a crowbar) the tool to knock him off balance. The man took a tumble onto the front window of the other vehicle, and Jack, not one to posthaste, shot out both their tires.

"Got them!" he breathed out and climbed back over to the front passenger seat. "You alright?" he asked, checking her wound. Her sleeve was stained red and Jack was worried that she was bleeding out.

She looked down, almost like she had forgotten it was there, and nodded her head. "Help me bandage it. We can't relax until we we've reconvened with enforcement."

"You couldn't radio them?"

She shook her head. "Busted."

Jack found some bandages in the glove compartment and wrapped them tight around her arm. "You know, if I had known a day out on the town with you was going to be like this, I would have stayed with my egg sandwich. Much less surprises."

She scoffed. "If I recall, you manhandled your way into my car and wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Well, if you weren't so insistent on breaking the rules and disobeying my orders..."

"Oh, please. You knew I was trouble the moment I walked through those doors."

"That I did," he muttered, perhaps in more ways than one. He massaged his shoulder, wincing at the soreness. "You're writing the full report for this. I'm not touching the paperwork on this mess."

"Yes, Chief," she said dryly. "But you owe me a round of drinks."

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of madness.

Within the fortnight, the facility was commandeered by SSR agents and teams were sent out to apprehend the perpetrators who had enough sense to run when they heard they were infiltrated by fake health inspectors. Civilian employees like Lambert were stunned and deemed jobless in the blink of an eye. An APB had to be put out for Charles Richmond, who disappeared into thin air from his out of town trip.

He was found a week later, drudged up from the East River with a gunshot wound to the head.

The trail was far from cold however. The evidence found in Richmond’s office and in the basement was going to be the point of investigation for months. Jack was going to be the least liked person in the office by the time the holidays rolled around. He already put word in for new hires and was dreading the extra hours he was going to assign.

He even had some of the telephone operators from downstairs come up to help with the phone, paperwork, and refreshments (with permission from his superiors of course, because even he had bosses). He couldn’t tell if Carter was offended he had women doing her old job but he was surprised to discover that she had quite the fan base among the hoard. She was popular enough that even Jones curbed his ranting. There was nothing like a pack of disapproving ladies putting a foul-mouthed sourpuss into his place.

With all the going ins and outs, Sousa and some of his L.A. agents made a temporary show in New York.

All of them working together was almost like old times. Almost. Carter and Sousa had always been the odd ones out and now Jack was somehow thrown into the mix. He half expected Jarvis and Stark to come bursting in through the front doors.

Jack was a bit ashamed to admit that he was bothered by Carter’s interactions with Sousa. She was different around Sousa, friendlier and more open with her emotions. She wasn’t sharp or sarcastic with him as she was with Jack.

But Sousa didn’t look at Carter like a baby deer anymore.

“That girl you were with in L.A.? How is she?” Jack asked him one early morning. Carter was in the breakroom, with the morning paper and a cup of steaming tea. He and Sousa were in the conference room looking over their notes.

“Violet?” he hummed. “She’s great.”

“Yeah?” Jack pulled his eyes up from his papers. “What does she do again?”

“She’s a nurse.” Sousa leaned back in his chair. “What’s with the questions? You’ve never taken an interest in my personal life before.”

Jack shrugged. “It was obvious how you felt about Carter before L.A.” At his sputter, Jack held up a hand. “Sousa, everyone knew. Anyhow, things seem different between you and Carter now. I just want to make sure it won’t interfere with work.”

There was a long pause, then Sousa let out a long breath. “We’re engaged.”

“You and Violet?”

“Yes! Me and Violet! Who else?” he answered, bordering on snappish.

For a second there, Jack felt his stomach drop. Of course it wasn’t Carter. Marriage usually meant children and children needed a temporary caretaker. Jack wasn’t sure what he would do if he lost one of his better agents.

“Congrats,” he began. “I guess I just didn’t see it coming.”

“What do you mean?” Sousa frowned.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this entire operation is top secret. It’s not exactly easy to navigate around with a girl.”

Sousa’s eyes darted to the side. “Well…”

Jack slapped his hand on the table. “Damn it, Sousa. She knows? How?”

“Peggy got hurt bad in L.A., right before you arrived actually, and we couldn’t take her to the hospital so we brought her to our house.”

Jack pinched the space between his eyebrows. “Of course.”

Sousa shrugged, mirroring his earlier action. “We’re planning on a spring wedding. You’re invited of course but I do need to arrange a few week’s leave for the honeymoon.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Jack said dryly.

A rare smirk crept onto his face. “Hey, it’ll be fun. Provided that nobody decides to annihilate the city on the big day.”

Jack let Sousa scribble a few notes here and there before speaking again. “Things were better back in the old days, huh? Before the war. Do you think we would’ve signed up to be agents if we knew crazy science experiments and freak events were going to skyrocket in spades?”

Sousa gave him a strange look. “I’d like to think so, yeah. After what happened with my leg, I would’ve done anything to feel useful again.”

“I’m not sure I would’ve.”

He paused. “Really? You’re good at it. You became Dooley’s right hand as a rookie.”

“You mean I’m not bad at it.” Jack let out a dark chuckle. “There’s a whole other aspect to moving up the chain.”

“Oh.” Sousa looked like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything else.

“But I’m at the point of no return now. The job has its perks and eventually I’ll be able to move up to something less dangerous.”

Sousa put down his pen with a tentative pause and crossed his arms. “Does this have to do with what happened at the factory? The run with Peggy?”

“No,” Jack frowned. “I’m just making small talk. Though that is a prime example of when things go wrong. Did you already forget what happened in L.A.? And then my hotel room?”

Sousa gave him a wry glance. “Of course not. I just can’t tell if you’re fishing for a compliment or not.”

“Ha, ha,” Jack deadpanned. Sousa was more candid than he remembered. Now that he was also chief, maybe he felt like they were on more equal footing.

“But seriously, you’re a good agent, Jack. And a good chief. You wouldn’t have gotten to where you are if you weren’t.”

Jack’s throat went a little dry. Sousa didn’t know half the things he did to end up where he was.

“Peggy told me what you did at the factory. I mean, I read the reports and everything but coming from her, she had a lot of positive things to say. I’m honestly impressed. Before I left for L.A., the two of you could barely stand to be in the same room and now it looks like this office will finally have some semblance of peace.” The last part was said in jest, and a knock on the door segued with Sousa getting up from his chair to return a call.

Yeah, Sousa didn’t know half the things he did but Carter did.

Jack took a seat at the counter and hailed the bartender for a glass. As he waited, he took in the familiar atmosphere and the soft music playing in the background. This was the club closest to the SSR and if he craned his neck, he could see several of his agents sitting in the back booths.

He used to frequent this particular club every week but ever since he was made Chief, he had to dial it down to sporadically (it was one thing to be seen mingling with his subordinates and entirely another to be seen overindulging in the habit), but what the heck, it was Friday and the L.A. team was successfully out of his hair and back on a plane to that hot excuse of a city—he deserved to knock back a glass or two for show.

The bartender slid his glass over and Jack thanked him. The man even remembered his usual. That had to count for something. A few of the agents walked up to him to congratulate him on a week well done and Jack, keeping up the image, brought their tables a round of drinks.

They pretty much left him alone after that. There always was a barrier between a worker and his boss and Jack made that clear when took a seat at the counter and not with them.

Jack drank slowly from his glass, just feeling the ambience and the mindless chatter around him when someone slid onto the stool next to him. He was about to send the poor lady away when he was met with brown eyes and red-painted lips.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, slow on the fumble.

Smugly, Carter pointed over to a corner booth where Cornwall was nervously speaking with a girl.

“Isn’t she one of our telephone operator girls?”

Carter nodded. “He’s been building up the courage to speak with her for weeks. She wouldn’t come to the club unless she was chaperoned of course, so there’s an extra gaggle of giggles in the other corner.”

Sure enough, two women sitting side by side, were whispering feverishly to each other as they watched the pair.

“Are they going to watch us too?” he asked, humorlessly. Geez, he hoped she took the joke for what it was.

“You don’t have to worry,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m not here to sink my claws into you.” She quietly considered the women before turning back to Jack. “Besides, they’re not overtly silly and not nearly half the audacity that Angie has.”

He didn’t bother to hide the scoff at the mention of her friend. “Good to know.” He gave Cornwall another glance. “And here I thought the kid was sweet on you.”

Another roll of the eyes. “Don’t you owe me a drink?” she asked, gesturing with a tilt of her head toward the rack of bottles.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

She ordered a scotch, which was served immediately. Jack racked his brain for something to say when he realized Carter was looking at him expectedly.

“What is it?”

Carter shook her head. “I just wanted to say thanks for having my back at the factory. I really appreciate it, especially knowing our history.”

Jack gave a half grin. “Hey, it wouldn’t look good if I hadn’t but no thanks needed. You had mine too. We made a good team.”

If he hadn’t been watching closely, he wouldn’t have noticed the fleeting surprise across her face. Yeah, old Jack would’ve been surprised too. He never would’ve considered Carter to be a part of anything but classy background help. But now here they were. On new, unstable ground.

Not wanting to dwell, he directed the conversation towards something he had been curious about for a while.

“Why did you come back to New York? I thought you liked working with Sousa,” he asked, turning on his stool to face her.

She placed her glass down. “I do… but it didn’t feel right to move to Los Angeles. My friends are all here.” At Jack’s raised eyebrow, she added, “well, Edwin and Howard aren’t going to be in Hollywood forever. They’ll be back after his little side project, and you already know Angie is here. New York is about as close to home as I’ll be without moving back to England.”

Jack knew enough about Steve Rogers to know he grew up in Brooklyn so maybe that was what Carter was implying. However, he wasn’t willing to admit the thought made his insides flip unpleasantly.

Carter looked pointedly at him. “I also recall you asking me to come back.”

He felt the beginnings of a hot rush to his neck. It wasn’t anything sentimental when he had asked—rather it was downright rotten—but time had a funny way of messing with his perspectives and now with the two of them sitting together, the atmosphere was causing him to feel oddly self-conscious about it.

He scratched at the shadow of hair on his chin and emulated a gruff response to gather his bearings. “You were sticking your nose in business that wasn’t yours, if you recall correctly. I was trying to save your hides.”

She hummed with a lilt of her eyebrows. “Of course, I recall. Especially your ulterior motives.” There was a slight touchiness to her tone but she settled back over her drink, choosing to keep the train from derailing. “Do you want me to move back to L.A.?”

Jack couldn’t tell if she was trying to continue their familiar banter but he groaned under his breath nevertheless. “That’s not it at all.”

“No?”

“Look, I know I have been a jerk to you since you’ve started working here. And yes, I was trying to get rid of you when I sent you to L.A. but you’re a good agent.” He scratched at the scruff on his face again. “You’ve proven you’re a good agent and when I think about it now, it doesn’t bother me to work with you in the same office anymore.”

Carter was a cross between wonder and mild amusement. When he offered nothing more to his little speech, she hid her smile over the rim of her glass. “That was… that was… quite an apology. Can it be considered one?” A pause. “I guess I accept.”

Jack palmed his forehead. “Look, I have nothing against you staying here or moving to L.A., it’s all up to you. But if you’re going to be in my hair, try not to be a martyr until I get promoted.”

“Duly noted,” she said smartly, holding up her glass. “I do prefer the temperamental highs and lows of New York weather over the dry heat of L.A. anyway.”

“Hear, hear.”

The two finished off another set of drinks before Carter got up to reach for her jacket.

“Well, I have to go,” she said, slipping the garment on and fluffing out her lapels. “Angie is expecting me back home.”

Jack glanced at his watch. “Is it past your curfew?”

“Dear, God, no,” she scoffed. “I don’t live at the hotel anymore. You got me kicked out of that place, remember?”

He nodded his head in realization. “Right. Sorry about that.”

Carter nodded and picked up her purse. “Thank you for the drinks. We really should do it again sometime.”

His instinct was to offer to walk her home. He reached inside his pockets for some bills. “Wait, I’ll walk you home.”

He could feel Carter rolling her eyes without her physically having to do so. “I rather you didn’t.”

That was more blunt than he had been expecting of her and he couldn’t help but take some offense. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Thought I’d be nice.”

She passed him a sympathetic glance. “I know, Thompson. I don’t take affront to gentlemen but we are in a club, having just shared drinks, in full view of our coworkers. I’d rather not add fuel to the fire by being seen leaving with you.”

Jack felt heat rushing up his neck. It hadn’t even occurred to him. “Oh, uh…”

She cocked an eyebrow with a lilt of a smirk, obviously noticing his discomfort. “Still, it was nice of you to offer.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jack grumbled, waving her off, knowing the flush was apparent on his face by now. “Get out of here. I’ll see on Monday.”

With a grin, she turned to leave but after a few steps, she headed back his way again. “Actually, I was thinking of heading to the office tomorrow, sometime after lunch.” She snuck a look at Cornwall, who was clearly getting on well with his date. “I was going to make Cornwall come in to help but you’re familiar with my work too so it would help if you could stop by, even for an hour or two.”

Jack blinked. It was true that he didn’t have any concrete plans for tomorrow and by lunchtime, any residual hangover would have dissipated. It was also true that he often popped in during the weekend to check on the weekend staff (he was eyeing that promotion after all) and would sometimes run into Carter (who seemed to never stop working) but this was the first time she had ever blatantly asked him to join in her overtime endeavors.

“Yeah, of course. I was going to stop by anyway.” He tried not to sound too excited about it. It was work after all but dammit, he had to acknowledge the fact that he was at the point where he was looking forward to any chance to spend time with her.

“Great!” she beamed. “I’ll let Cornwall know he can have the day off. Maybe it’ll give him a chance to set up an outing tomorrow with his date.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Never took you for a matchmaker.”

“Oh, please. I know an opportunity when I see one. Besides, I just think of it as saving him from Angie’s machinations. She’s set on finding partners for everyone.”

“Even you? I thought she would have given up by now,” he laughed, despite the twist in his gut.

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned. “You won’t be laughing when she comes around looking for you.”

He blanched. “You’re not serious, are you?”

She shrugged in a way that clearly meant he had to watch his back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chief,” she drawled. “Try to head home in one piece.”

He just shook his head and watched as she stopped by Cornwall’s table to tell him the schedule change. They both waved her off as she headed out and perhaps bolstered by the news, Cornwall got up and asked his date for a dance. Jack grinned in spite of his dislike for the kid. Young love was a sweet highlight in the aftermath of the war and while Jack himself was a cynic, he could understand why Carter bothered with it.

He asked the bartender for a glass of water. He didn’t have a chance with Carter, not one bit. Heck, in his position, it would have been outrageously inappropriate and knowing her as he did now, she would never risk her career for something like that. She worked hard to get to where she was and she enjoyed being an agent, being out in the field and saving the day.

She was something special and Jack couldn’t even begin to compare to Captain America.

And one day, he wouldn’t even be a part of SSR. Not where he was going. He had higher aspirations (higher, cushier aspirations) but by then, Carter probably wouldn’t even bother with him.

Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

Jack grinned wryly into his glass. Carter had changed him though. Chip by chip at the old block and maybe that was where the hope rose.