"Is this seat taken?"
Peggy looked up from her newspaper at the sound of the familiar voice to see Jack Thompson standing beside her table at the L&L Automat, a take-away cup of coffee in one hand and an SSR file in the other. He was wearing his long grey overcoat and his tie was ever so slightly askew, as if he had recently loosened it in frustration. "What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning up at him. She hadn't seen him since she had picked up her last pay-check from the SSR three weeks ago, the day that the men from Congress had dropped by, but even at a glance she could tell he looked tired.
One corner of his mouth twitched up. "I don't suppose you'll believe that I just happened to be passing," he said rhetorically, and then lowered himself down into the seat opposite her without being invited, placing his coffee on the table in front of him. "I was going through some old files and realised something."
"That you really don't know the alphabet? I hope you're not after a lesson," she retorted, her frown deepening as he showed every intention of making himself comfortable, tearing open a packet of sugar and pouring it into his black coffee.
"I found the file we had on Edwin Jarvis after we questioned him" he told her, ignoring her jibe and stealing the teaspoon from the side of her saucer to stir his drink. "And I realised that by playing dumb with that stolen car report you were able to walk him clear out of the SSR and safely out of our hands." He shook his head slightly at her, bemused, his lips pressed together. "Even after the whole Leviathan thing came to light I didn't connect the dots, it was only when I had the file in front of me this morning that I realised what you'd done that day."
"Your point?" Peggy asked, wondering where he was going with this and why he had apparently sought her out, other than to disrupt her afternoon.
"My point is that you're good," he said simply, picking up his coffee to take a sip. "Hell, you even got all teary eyed when Dooley made you apologise to me - I'm impressed." He smirked at her over the rim of his cup, as if they were sharing a private joke, but she could see the lines of tension around his mouth.
There was a beat of silence as Peggy tapped the end of the pen she had been using against the table, her quick eyes noting the thickness of the innocuous file on the table beside his coffee and the hint of stubble on his jaw, indicating that he hadn't found the time to shave that morning. "What do you want, Jack?" she asked plainly, cutting to the chase since she knew that this was no simple social call.
He met her gaze steadily, dropping the jovial attitude. "I'm here with a mission," he replied, all seriousness.
"I don't work for the SSR anymore," she told him, despite the fact that her curiosity was undeniably piqued.
Jack shrugged, his gaze locked on hers – he'd thrown the line into open waters and was now waiting if she would take the bait.
Curiosity got the better of her. "What's the mission?" she asked, taking care to keep her voice low so as not to be overheard by the other patrons of the diner.
"We have a mole," he explained, all business. "Leviathan seems to know everything that we do before we even make move. We've had false leads, misinformation, the works." He shook his head in frustration. "We haven't made any real progress since arresting Ivchenko, if anything we've taken steps backwards."
"Are you sure it's not just shoddy leadership?" she couldn't help but retort, though there wasn't any malice in her voice.
There was another pause, then Thompson's mouth quirked up into a smile. "Come off it, Carter, I know you're not really mad about that day," he said in a knowing, dismissive tone.
She raised her brow at him; that was true and she had told Daniel as much, but she wanted to see what Thompson said to justify himself. "Do you now?"
"Yeah, because you know your worth and I damn-well do too," he said plainly, not disappointing her. "What those idiots in politics think doesn't matter because we both understand how the game is played. Sousa is naïve about it all, but we both know that if I had given you the credit then they would have never offered me Chief, and you would be back to coffee-runs and not actual assignments." He drummed his fingers on the file beside him, then pushed it an inch or so towards her, as if he was trying to tempt her with it. "Speaking of which, I want you to come back to the SSR. On the surface it will be as if you're helping us with cases, but your actual mission will be to find the perp within our ranks."
"Why me?" she asked, folding her hands on the table in front of her as she listened to him.
"You ran around for weeks as a corporate spy and no one suspected a goddamn thing. You were one step ahead of us the entire time, working alone." Jack's steely blue gaze was steady on hers, his face set into serious lines. "There's no one I'd trust more with this, Peggy."
Realising that he was genuine in his request, Peggy was willing to acquiesce. "What do you know so far?" she questioned.
Thompson scowled, the crease between his brows growing more pronounced. "Everything I've got points to Sousa, but my gut says its not him. It's too clean - everyone knows he is basically my deputy, so I think it's a set up." His frown deepened and he glanced down at the table before returning his gaze to her, raising one shoulder slightly and lowering his voice. "We lost good agents in the initial Leviathan attack – Li, Kresminsky, Yaouch, Dooley." He hesitated, glancing away again. "And you," he added in an even quieter voice. He then took a deep breath, drumming his fingers on the table once more. "The high-ups have sent over some new blood to swell the ranks, so smart money is on it being one of them," he continued in a normal voice and then jerked his chin at her. "Whadda say, you in?"
"What's in it for me?" she wanted to know, her head cocked to one side.
One eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Well, you will be on the clock, so how about a pay-check?" he offered, then reached across the table to tilt her newspaper towards him to see what she had been doing. "Beyond that, something to do that isn't sitting in a diner at three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon doing the crossword."
Peggy took the newspaper from his hands, closed it pointedly and then placed it to one side, resting her pen atop of it. Jack leaned across the table towards her. "Come on, Marge, you must be bored stiff not working at the SSR."
"Don't call me that," she shot back instantly, having always hated the nickname and the way he said it, as if to patronise her. "And I've been helping Howard classify and store his inventions, as well as assisting him with his new vault security," she told him, trying to keep the distinct lack of interest she felt in this particular role out of her voice; bored stiff was right, she was itching to get back to work but she wasn't going to let on how keen she was. "He doesn't exactly keep conventional office hours."
"Sounds satisfying," Thompson drawled, his tone dry – Peggy resisted the urge to bite down on the inside of her cheek, irked that he could read her so well. He pushed the file across the table towards her. "Well … here is everything I've got on the new Agents, you know where to find me if you change your mind." He fished in his coat pocket for his wallet and threw some notes on the table – enough to cover both their drinks and a tip, she noticed - before standing up, picking up his coffee cup and donning his hat.
He nodded once at her, his gaze lingering. "See you around, Carter," he said, leaving her with the SSR file in front of her. She waited until he was well out of the door before picking it up and starting to read.
The next day Peggy strolled into the bullpen of the SSR wearing a striking dark blue skirt that was paired with a white blouse and matching heels that clicked smartly as she walked. She ignored the looks of surprise various Agents gave her as she made her way between the desks, her handbag dangling from the strap looped around her wrist. Hearing the familiar sound of her heels, Sousa glanced up from the file he had been reading and then did a double take. "Peggy," he said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Peggy paused beside his desk to speak to him, bracing the fingertips of one hand against the wood. "I've heard things are falling apart without me, so I thought I would lend a hand," she said, casting him a familiar, wry smile.
"You can say that again," Daniel said, looking equal parts pleased to see her and exasperated at truth of her statement. "Just last week I had one of the few remaining Stark weapons surfacing on the black market and then vanishing again just as we went in for collection."
"Sounds frustrating," Peggy said, fully aware of this – included in the file Jack had given her was all of the evidence linking Sousa to the sabotaged cases: she had agreed with his assessment that it was too clean, the whole thing had been neatly set up to make it look like Daniel had acquired and then sold on the weapon himself.
"I'll say," he agreed, glancing down at the files scattered in front of him and then over his shoulder to where her own desk was kept in pristine condition, waiting for her: evidently they had been serious when they had said they would keep her desk clear, should she decide to return. "So you're back on the books then?" Daniel asked, a note of hope in his voice.
"Perhaps, I need to speak with the Chief first though," she hedged, turning her gaze towards Jack's office; she could see him through the glass, sitting in Dooley's old chair and speaking to an unfamiliar Agent. Peggy gave Sousa another smile. "If you'll excuse me, Daniel."
Continuing on between the two desks, she paused in the open doorway to the Chief's office and knocked on the doorframe to announce herself. Thompson instantly looked up and met her eyes for a brief second, then turned back to the Agent he had been speaking to. "Davis, get out," he said simply.
The young man looked mildly incredulous at his abrupt tone. "We're not finished -"
"Yes, we are. I'll hear the rest later," Jack told him firmly, then flicked two fingers in her direction to invite her in. "Carter, get in here."
Peggy waited until the young Agent, whom she now recognised as Timothy Davis from the file that Jack had given her, walked passed her and then closed the office door firmly behind him.
Jack, meanwhile, had stood up and come out from behind the desk, choosing instead to sit on the front to speak to her, much as he had done when Dooley had been Chief. "I gotta say, I'm pleased to see you," he said, folding his arms over his chest and watching her with his chin raised.
"But not surprised," Peggy surmised, firmly pulling the blind that covered the glass on the closed door down after closing it.
He shrugged, indicating that this was the case, but she was still able to detect a hint of relief in his bearing. "So what's the plan?" he asked, apparently wanting to get straight down to brass tacks.
Peggy moved to the blind covering one of the windows that looked out onto the bullpen and slowly closed that one as well, knowing full well that tongues would start wagging outside. "If I am to draw out the mole, then first we must make sure everyone knows I'm here and make them want to listen in to our conversations, that way we can feed the mole misinformation and not the other way around," she said, moving to the last blind and lowering it, but purposefully leaving the shutters partially open so that people could still see what was going on in the office – even at a glance she could see one or two people craning their necks in an attempt to see what was going on. "Nothing ensures an audience like the apparent necessity for privacy."
"You haven't closed that properly," Thompson pointed out, watching her curiously.
"Yes, that was intentional," she told him, placing her handbag down on his desk and standing with her back to the bullpen. "The file you gave me highlighted three Agents that you think are the potential mole," she said, and then smiled slyly. "I can't say I've remained ignorant of the work the SSR has been doing these few weeks and I am well aware that there are also three high profile suspects that you're currently monitoring as potentially having ties to Leviathan."
Thompson nodded, seemingly unsurprised that she had kept abreast of the SSRs dealings even while she was no longer working there. "Levourne, Dixon and Becket," he said, listing their suspects: Levourne was a millionaire who had made his fortune in highly disreputable, though legally untraceable ways; Dixon was a mobster who ran an underground gambling ring below a club; and Becket had been a business partner of Spider Raymonds.
Peggy nodded. "Instead of sniffing around the Agents tails, I suggest we simply set a trap and wait for them to come to us," she said simply, bracing the side of her hip against the desk.
"I'm listening," Jack said, sounding intrigued.
"Three Agents, three suspects under surveillance and one missing piece of Stark technology," she said, reaching into her handbag to withdraw a fake file that she had drawn up the night before. "In the interest of making this look authentic, I did a mock up of a scientific report on a chemical formula, a stabilising agent for the element francium, which is highly volatile and radioactive," she told him, handing him the report. "It's never been properly studied since the element decays too quickly. But when stabilised it is not only powerful, but also highly unpredictable. It has the potential capacity to be more powerful than the A-bomb."
Jack was frowning deeply as he skimmed through the file. "Why have I not heard about this with the other missing weapons?" he demanded, sounding displeased.
"Because it was not among the stolen cache, it doesn't exist," she explained mildly, watching him peruse the pages she had typed the night before. "The formula is purely theoretical, only existing in Howard's head." She nodded down at the file in his hands. "He assisted me with forging the report."
"Why the hell does Stark even think about this stuff?" Thompson muttered, mostly to himself, his eyes still lowered to the file.
"To be fair to Howard, this is one of the few projects that he actually abandoned before going beyond the theoretical stage since it was too dangerous," Peggy allowed, defending him. "He was analysing it from a scientific angle, not with the intention of making a weapon."
Jack flicked his gaze up to look at her, a deep crease between his brows. "You know," he said, still sitting on the edge of his desk and sounding like he was trying very hard to keep his tone light. "I think that you're either naïve or wilfully blind when it comes to Stark. Just because he believed in you when no one else did doesn't make him a good person," he told her bluntly. "He wasn't studying highly radioactive material just for fun, the Midnight oil wasn't intended as a weapon either and look where that got us."
"We are not here to discuss Howard," Peggy said coolly, not liking his tone or the implication behind his words; she had dealt with enough speculation on hers and Howard's relationship to last her a lifetime. "Either way, the stabilising agent is credible enough to be believable and powerful enough to be of interest to Leviathan."
She nodded down to the file in his hands and continued. "When I leave call a meeting with everyone to discuss the stabilising agent and set a team working on locating it. Later this afternoon tell Adams, who you listed as your main suspect, that he has a mission. As far as he will know, our team has discovered the francium stabilising agent is stored in the cages of Dixon's gambling den prior to sale and up for an exchange tomorrow night, but in reality he is the only one who has been told this information. If Adams is our man then there will be a break in this evening," she rattled off, all business. "You and I will be in the casino tonight, ready and waiting."
"Just the two of us?" Thompson asked, briskly snapping the file closed.
"We are not there to intercept a potential theft, we are simply there to see if it happens," she reminded him crisply.
He smirked, seemingly enjoying himself. "A night on the cards then, never took you for a gambler, Carter."
Ignoring him, Peggy continued to outline her plan. "If and when we have ruled out Adams, we will fabricate conversations regarding Levourne and Becket for Agents Davis and Geller to accidentally overhear detailing the location of the stabilising agent, hence the necessity to pique the SSRs interest in our dealings and make them want to listen in," she told him; she knew that her plan would make her the subject of gossip, but it was a necessary evil – many of the Agents outside knew her to be highly competent and, frustrating as it was, she needed the invisible woman back. "To do that, we have to get them all talking, if they are busy gossiping about something frivolous or salacious then they won't suspect that we are feeding them misinformation, or that my presence back at the SSR is anything to do with them."
Jack frowned in confusion. "And how the hell do you plan to do that?"
"Like this," she said simply, and then slapped him hard across the face with an open palm.
He obviously hadn't been expecting her blow since the impact sent him falling clear off the edge of his desk and onto the floor. He quickly got to his feet, his eyes wide with incredulity as he rubbed his cheek. He stared at her for several long seconds and his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally said, "Bloody hell, you enjoyed that, didn't you?"
"I did, actually," she admitted, fighting a small, satisfied smile. "Twenty-one-hundred hours at the Black Jack, Chief Thompson," she said, automatically dropping back into military time and naming Dixon's underground gambling ring on the Lower East Side.
Without so much as another word, she turned, picked up her handbag and left the room. Aside from the clicking of her heels there was absolute silence as she made her way between the desks, satisfying her that the entire floor already knew what had just occurred in his office thanks to the partially open blinds. Once she entered the lift she turned on her heel to face the bullpen, unsurprised to find all eyes still on her. Sousa's mouth was hanging partially open as he looked over the rim of his coffee cup between the two of them and Jack was watching her from his office door, still rubbing the red mark on his cheek.
Lift doors closed slowly and Peggy smiled to herself.
It was good to be back.
Next up, Jack and Peggy at the underground gambling ring.
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