Disclaimer: The characters you know and love from Agent Carter are, alas, not mine. Otherwise season 2 would already be in the bag. Title and lyrics are from Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again."

Authors Note: Where did this pairing come from? To tell you the truth, no stinkin' idea. I may just be working my way through all the possible Angie pairings slowly but surely. Who knows? My mind works in mysterious ways (pity my poor fiance, he's a brave man). I started out wanted to try an Angie/Sousa pairing. Then it turned into a bit of a character study on Angie. And then it was suddenly 3000 words long when I only intended about 1500, so lord knows what happened there. But I hope you enjoy it despite everything.

I started this story prior to the airing of the finale, so it should be considered AU post episode seven.

We'll meet again,

Don't know where, don't know when

But I know we'll meet again

Some sunny day

"So of course this meathead, he thinks I'm some floozy. Grabs me by the arm trying to drag me out of the China Rose. But Peg- God, Vinny, if you were alive, you'd be makin' passes at her every which way 'til Sunday- she taught me how to defend myself. Got him once real good, right in the kisser. Pow!"

Leaning back against the cold stone, she smiled, knowing that if Vinny was there, he'd be putting on his big brother act, but secretly be incredibly proud. "Don't worry, I added it to my resume. 'Angie Martinelli: actress, singer, dancer, fighter.' Maybe I'll be some cartoonist's muse- actress by day, crime fighter by night. I'll be the star of those comic books the kids are spending their allowance on."

She laughed, running a finger over the letters engraved in stone.

Corporal Vincent James Martinelli

April 13, 1920-June 6, 1944.

Brother. Son. Soldier.

God she missed the bum. Vinny had been gone three years now, and though she knew he'd died fighting to keep her and the rest of the world safe, she missed her other half more than she could even describe.

She knew she should be grateful. Her older brother, Mike, was safe and in one piece, back home from the Philippines where he'd fought under General MacArthur. He'd been by this morning, driving the half-hour south from Flushing with his wife and two daughters, Rosie and June, to bring flowers and letters from the girls for the uncle that neither remembered.

Her dad had come home too, though not the same man he was before. He'd survived the Great War a happy, cheerful man, who worked hard to raise his three kids in a nice apartment in Woodhaven. But he'd been captured in Tunisia early on, and spent most of the war in a German prison camp. It had changed him. What else could she say? Quiet and subdued, practically catatonic most of the time, and flying into destructive rages the rest. They'd been forced to hospitalize him after he'd hit her mother hard enough to knock her unconscious. That's where Ma was today- he'd had a breakdown last night when Mike reminded him of the anniversary. Hurt himself so bad they had to send him down to Bellevue for treatment.

But Vinny. Vinny, who had spent twenty-four years reminding her that he was older by eight minutes and forty-six seconds. Vinny, who had walloped Benny Stills after he broke her heart in third grade. Vinny, who had a fiancé, and an education, and a long life still ahead of him. He was dead at 24, storming the beaches of France so that there might be an end to the war in Europe. Her twin was dead, and that was that.

There's been a military funeral, though only she, Ma, and Hazel, Vinny's fiancé, had been able to attend. A few other boys from his unit had been buried in the same cemetery, and she liked to think they were around here somewhere, giving each other hell and watching over all of them. Hazel hadn't been by today- her brother and father had also been killed in the Pacific, and she and her ma had moved out west, looking for a new start. Not that she could blame them.

Angie had started her own tradition the first year, just one short month after V-E day, spending the anniversary of her brother's death at the cemetery in Queens, picnic blanket and bottle of bourbon in hand. Every year, a toast for her brother who could have been anything, but chose to be a hero. Some might call it morbid, but she didn't think of it that way. The rest of the year, she came once a week to drop off flowers, remove the dead ones, and otherwise spruce up the place. This was her day to mourn, to catch up, to remember the good times, and tell her brother that she alright. And even if she wasn't alright, that someday, she would find a way to be.

She settled back against the stone, pulling the bottle of Four Roses bourbon out of her bag and placing it in front of her brother's name. Adjusting the photo of Vinny and his army pals, she continued talking. "Yeah, I think you'd like Peg. Too bad you'd have to fight Jack for her. He's another one of those secret agents, or whatever they are. He acts all tough, 'til he sees her pull a gun on someone. Then he turns into a big ol' pile of mush."

Laughing, she pulled two shot glasses out of her bag, placing them next to each other on her picnic blanket. She must look a site to the rest of the visitors- mostly dignified, elderly folks, visiting a lost husband or wife. One or two had shot her dirty looks, but most, seeing the veteran's plaque, just looked at her with sorrowful eyes. Pity. She was used to it- got it every time she mentioned her twin had died in battle- and she hated it.

She hated that Vinny was dead. Hated that he had left her alone, without her other half. But he died protecting his country, and knowing her brother, it was the way he would have wanted to go out. She remembered the proud look on his face, three hours after the news that Pearl Harbor had been attacked, when he elbowed his way to the front of the recruiter's line and returned home with a ticket to boot camp. She'd framed the picture he'd sent her of him and his buddies in Italy, arms thrown around each other, celebrating the fall of just a small portion of the Axis powers. She'd saved his letters about meeting Captain America and seeing the Andrew's Sisters and Bob Hope perform at the USO shows.

Vinny died doing what he loved. He wouldn't want her to pity him, and he wouldn't want her to wallow in self-pity. So she didn't talk about him much in public- Angie was pretty certain she hadn't even mentioned him to Peg or Jack, who had become a friend as dear as his girlfriend in the past year- because Vinny's memory was her private solace, her shelter in the storm.

"They're a hell of a pair, Jack and Peg. Unfortunately, they've decided the Automat is the new base for their patriotic scheming. Daniel too. Apparently walking back to the office with their coffee is too much to ask." She paused, trying to collect her thoughts.

"I don't think I told you about Daniel, did I?" She waited momentarily for an answer she knew wouldn't come. "He's a real sweetheart. You wouldn't take him for a secret agent. He blushes at the drop of a button, that one. So clearly, I'm his favorite."

She could hear Vinny now. "He get fresh with you? Need me to kick is his ass Gigi?"

He was the only one who ever called her Gigi.

"You don't need to haunt him, Vin. Honestly? He could be a keeper, if he didn't seem too shy to make a move, and if I wasn't afraid he'd run screaming if I asked him myself. Gonna have to wait 'til Sadie Hawkins rolls around. That is, if he ever comes to the Automat again. He's been MIA the last few weeks. Last time he came in, I was telling Peg about overhearin' Lorraine and her current liaison, and his ears just about turned purple. I'm eighty-five percent certain I terrify him." She paused. "I think you'd like him too, Vin. He's a vet. Lost a leg in Europe, but doesn't let it stop him. I think he's just as tenacious as you, just not as loud about it."

She smirked, looking up at the sky. "You better not have scared him off. I would cry. And you hate making me cry."

The sun starting to sink. "Don't have much time left here with ya, big brother. What do you say to a toast?" Grabbing the bottle of bourbon, she busied herself filling the shot glasses. In the several seconds it took to get the cap off the bottle- who the hell screws these in so tight?- she entirely missed the uneven footsteps approaching her.

"Miss Martinelli?"

She jumped, spilling some of the alcohol from the overly-full bottle. Looking up, she quickly recognized the man. "Agent Sousa! How've you been? You haven't stopped by the Automat in a few weeks. We've missed you."

We, always we. Because "I" would be admitting too much. She knew she had a strong personality- to some, a grating personality. This long-standing crush on Daniel had made her so God damn cautious, like she was walking on eggshells.

He smiled somberly. "Been down in Washington for a hearing. Just got back two days ago." His gaze wavered between her and the headstone. "I can't believe I never put it together."

It hit her quickly- here she was, sitting at her brother's tombstone, partaking in her annual bourbon toast, starting a conversation with Daniel like it was any other day of the week, when it was likely that he, too, was here mourning someone he loved. Her breath caught in her chest as she noticed the single flag in his hands and put everything together. "Did you know Vinny?"

He nodded. "Same unit. We charged the beach together. I… I come by every year. There were nine or ten of us from Queens in my unit. Only two of us survived."

"You have anyone else to visit?" she asked. He shook his head no, handing her the flag. She pushed it into the ground, spearing the letters Rosie and June wrote so they wouldn't fly away. Straightening the blanket she sat upon, Angie patted the space next to her. "Then grab a seat, Agent Sousa. You're about to become part of an annual Angela Martinelli tradition."

She watched as Daniel maneuvered his crutch, leaning on the headstone so that he could more easily sit next to her. Stupid, she mused, realizing she probably came across as thoughtless for making him sit on the ground next to her, when she could more easily stand.

Still, he gave her a small smile, saying, "You can call me Daniel." He picked up the photo that leaned against the headstone, the smile growing somewhat wider, as if lost in a memory. "I took this picture you know. Found a camera in the ruins of a bombed out factory, figured no one would miss it.

He paused again before adding, "He talked about you a lot. Though I never quite put together that Gigi Martinelli and Angela Martinelli were the same person. Never heard anyone call you that."

"Yeah, that was all Vinny. He couldn't pronounce Angela 'til he was three." She admitted, feeling a hint of a smile pass across her face, remembering her brother struggle with Angela. "I don't think Vinny ever mentioned you in his letters."

"Nah, he probably never mentioned a Daniel. But maybe a DJ?"

"That was you?"

He snorted. "According to Vinny, 'Every good GI needs a nickname.' And since we already had a Dan and a Danny, I ended up with DJ. Daniel James."

She remembered DJ from Vinny's letters. He'd described him as a quiet, respectful guy. "The kind of guy you should be dating, kid. Not those scumbags from down on Myrtle Avenue," he'd written, blunt as always- Vinny wasn't the type to mince words. According to her brother, DJ was the kind of person to reach out to the people most affect by the war- giving out candy to kids in the villages they marched through, risking his life to help others if he saw a need. There'd been one letter where Vinny had rambled on and on about a small village in the south of Italy that had recently been bombed. DJ- "that softy"- won over the locals' hearts when he helped a family save their cow from a destroyed barn and recruited the rest of the GIs to help build the animal a makeshift shelter. "Thought he was out of his mind 'til the family offered to make us dinner that night. Hell, sis, that was the best meal I've had in months."

"Well I'll be damned," Angie muttered, pulling a third shot glass out of her bag. She'd packed it just in case Mikey had found a way to come back to the cemetery, though it had always been a long shot. "You saved the cow."

The words flew out of her mouth before she could really think them through, and Angie knew that up in heaven, at this very moment, Vinny was probably rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically at her inability to converse like a sane human being.

Still, Daniel chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. "Sure did. That family lost most of their animals in the bombing. Was the least we could do." He paused, "Besides that meal they paid us with was the best thing since Marlene Dietrich took the stage at Bob Hope's USO show."

"You're comparing food to Marlene Dietrich?" Angie asked incredulously as she carefully poured the bourbon.

Daniel plucked a piece of grass, twirling it between his fingers, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes. "You've never lived on army rations, Miss Martinelli."

"No thank you. The sugar ration was enough for me. Hard to have a good cup of coffee if you can't dump a spoonful of sugar in." She paused, before throwing in, "And it's Angie. We've been friends for over a year. It's Angie until I get discovered."

"And what is it after you get discovered?" he asked curiously.

"Academy Award Winner Angela Martinelli. The whole phrase, every time I'm addressed." She passed him a shot glass.

"Duly noted, ma'am." He took the glass, sniffing the liquid. "Bourbon. A favorite among our unit."

"Vinny's favorite. He got in a load of trouble with Ma when we were fifteen- he and some of the other troublemakers on our block stole a bottle of Four Roses from the corner store. She tanned his hide when staggered in drunk for dinner. I don't even think Vinny realized he was drunk."

"Sounds about right. We had two days leave down after we finished training at Fort Dix. Couldn't leave New Jersey, and ended up on a bender in the middle of Trenton. Your brother got kicked out of at least three bars- it was impressive."

"I bet." Looking at the sky again, she saw the bright pinks and oranges taking over, darkness moving in slowly but surely. She sighed, collecting herself, emotion threatening to overtake her. "Alright, Daniel. You missed the day long conversation with Vinny, but I'll forgive you for that." She winked to let him know she was joking. "So we toast Vin, we drink, and we call it a day."

"And the third shot?"

"That's for Vinny." She paused, raising her drink, waiting for Daniel to do the same. "Vinny, you were a bum, a jerk, and the best friend I ever had. I hate that the war took you away, but I know you wouldn't have changed a damn thing. And I know we'll see you again. Miss you big brother."

"Here, here," Sousa added. "You were one of the best, Vinny."

He tapped his glass against hers, draining it in one gulp. Angie followed his lead, choking down the liquid. "I've always hated bourbon. I don't like to taste the alcohol when I'm drinking." She picked up the third glass, pouring it at the base of the headstone. "Enjoy it. You're cut off 'til next year, Vin."

Shifting so he could grasp the top of the headstone, Daniel pulled himself up, faltering slightly. As she picked up the blanket and replaced the bottle in her bag, he asked "How'd you get out here this morning?"

"My brother Mike drove me down from Flushing with his family. Got to spend some time with my nieces last night. Doesn't happen often."

"Well then, I'll walk you to the train station then," Daniel offered with a smile.

She hesitated momentarily, not wanting to decline the offer. Not wanting the night to end. "I was actually headin' back into Manhattan. I've got an early shift tomorrow at the Automat, and Marion has a ten o'clock curfew for us girls. I was gonna grab a cab…" She trailed off. She wasn't ready to say goodbye. Not even because it was Daniel, and she'd been waiting for him to make a move the past year- but because he'd known Vinny, been with Vinny in his last days. He could give her some of the reassurance she needed, that her brother had truly been alright. "Unless you're headin' back to Manhattan. We could share a ride."

He nodded, smiling. "I'd like that." Quickly, Daniel glanced at his watch. "You know, if we don't hit traffic, we'll be back downtown by 7. Have you eaten today? We could grab dinner. Trade Vinny stories."

Angie nodded. "I'd like that a lot." Looking down at the tombstone she added, "If you don't mind grabbing us a cab, I just… I have just one more thing I want to tell him. If that's alright."

"Course it is. I'll meet you at the gate?"

She nodded, watching as he walked away, struggling a bit with the uneven terrain of the cemetery. Waiting until he was out of earshot, she leaned down to the stone and whispered, "'The kind of guy I should be dating,' huh? No wonder you wrote all those letters about DJ, you sneaky jerk. This has your name written all over it." Kissing the stone gently, she stood. "Thanks big brother."

Tossing her purse over her shoulder and the blanket over her arm, she jogged after Daniel, calling, "Hey Danny! Wait up!"

He turned, waiting for her patiently. "Danny?" he questioned as she reached his side.

"A smart man once said 'Every good GI needs a nickname,'" she shot back.

Daniel snorted. "A good man? I'd call him a punk."

Linking her arm with his, Angie smiled. "Can't argue with that."

So will you please say hello

To the folks that I know

Tell them I won't be long

They'll be happy to know

That as you saw me go

I was singing this song

We'll meet again

Authors Note: So that's a wrap! Hopefully you enjoyed this. Or even if you didn't enjoy it. Toss this lady a bone and leave her a review- I need some cheery words as I continue my job hunt! :) Con-crit is always greatly appreciated as well. Thanks a bunch for reading. Next time: I attempt the story of Anna and Jarvis (which is actually the first Agent Carter one-shot I started writing, but has turned into this epic, raging beast of a story that I don't know what to do with). Best wishes -Jac