Peggy felt it welling up in her chest, that awful, irrational guilt. Deep down, she knew it could not have possibly been her fault.
But then again, those people. They had attacked one another with no qualms about their actions, and all because of Haward Stark's maniacal weapon.
If she had only noticed Dottie; if she had only stopped her before it all began. If she had never invited the good ol' doctor back to the States; if she had never accepted Howard's preposterous invitation in the first place...
She shuddered and realized she was close to snapping. Without a second thought, she slapped the file she had been reading closed and rose unsteadily to her feet. Thompson looked up and noticed her stricken face.
"Hey, Madge, where ya goin'?"
She jerked at the sound of his voice and pasted a blood-red smile on her face. "Just to the ladies' room, Jack. I'll be back soon." With that, she hastily exited the bull pen and went down the hall.
Instead of entering the ladies' room, which was two doors down, she walked into the deserted men's locker room and sat down in the furthest corner from the door.
Her thoughts ran wildly, all the while screaming, "Murderer, guilty...you're so guilty, Peggy. Those people, you killed them...you and your inadequacy..."
She was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice that Thompson had entered the room until he knelt before her and rubbed her knee.
"Mags, what's wrong? And don't bothered giving me some cover story."
Her sobs betrayed her. "I-I can't, Jack, I don't even know wha-what I'm thinking. I'm so..." She trailed off into hiccups and tears.
Reaching out awkwardly, he pulled her into his arms. "Shhhh, Mags, it's okay-"
"No, it's not! How can you say that? I'm responsible for their deaths; I'm the one that didn't discover Dottie. I'm the one that didn't realize everything that would happen! I'm the one who invited the damn doctor to America in the first place!"
He tightened his arms around her waist and back as she cried out her guilt and sorrow. "You know, Mags, Dottie got through everyone, not just you. We coulda arrested her or asked her more questions when she said she 'found' you lying there. It's not just you. Everyone screwed up. It's war, Pegs, maybe it's not one with a home front or nationalistic rally, but it's a war all the same. And we're all responsible for it, not just you."
Silence reigned down upon the pair as Peggy's sniffles died down. She reveled in the feeling of his arms around her, keeping her safe. For all her bravado, there was only so far she could go before she felt the effects of everything.
Then, in a small voice: "Thank you, Jack."
He took the icy plunge and kissed her hair. "You're not the only one to feel guilt, Mags, but you deal with it a helluva lot better than I ever did."
Laughing, she reluctantly pulled out of his embrace and daintily dabbed at her eyes. "And how did you deal with it, Agent Thompson?"
"By trying to shut everyone out. Including you."
Peggy froze, but only for a moment before she quipped, "Well, I daresay we've both let each other in."
His gaze became fond and soft. "Yeah, I guess so."
After taking another moment to compose herself, Peggy stood. "I'll see you for drinks at eight o'clock sharp at the Stork Club. Don't you dare be late."
As he stood, Jack wiped his palms on his pants and nodded. She hesitated a moment before leaning in and gently placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek.
Then she was gone.
Jack broke out of his stupor a moment later before walking out and down the hall. He entered the bull pen and nodded to Sousa in greeting, whose face immediately grew pink. He rubbed furiously at his left cheek, indicating that Jack should do the same.
Jack forcefully wiped his cheek and groaned when he saw the red lipstick smudging his fingers.