It was three years since the incident, or 66 years if you look at it like that. Everyone I knew was dead. Well, except Steve, but he didn't know about me, so that didn't count. I was stranded in this horrid place and I knew no one. SHIELD was still here, but a year after I arrived it turned out it had been infiltrated by HYDRA, so that was a bummer. Life, pretty much, sucked. I wasn't even Peggy Carter anymore. Before SHIELD, and my whole legacy, went to hell, they gave me a new identity. Hayes Morrison, the daughter of a US president, who no one had ever seen before. Turned out that real Hayes Morrison had died in a plane crash earlier that year, but the White House had kept a lid on it. Fury pulled some strings and suddenly my whole life was reduced to being the president's daughter. The worst thing about it was that I had to speak with an American accent, like it wasn't enough knowing my life over. I'd never see ever Angie again.
I didn't exactly live out my new life gracefully, but it worked out just fine. I had the privilege of being Hayes Morrison. Well, until last month when I got busted with cocaine. Oops. The district's attorney Wallace thought he doing me a favour by giving me a job. A new unit inside the district's attorney's office who looked at cases to see if someone was wrongfully convicted. I worked a couple of cases, and it turned out that it was actually kind of nice. I gained back some of my old purpose, by doing good for society again. Only this time it was much easier, with women having more rights and all.
Tess, or Tinkerbell as I liked to call her, picked a new case, and it was a weird case. An old man had been murdered, stabbed in the lever with an ice pick. The strange thing was that the man who died had no blood what so ever in his system. The defence and DA had both ignored it, since they never found out how or why he had been drained. The case got stranger, the man charged with the murder was a marine, he had a highly redacted file, and there's no record what so ever what he had been doing for the last ten years. My guess was that he was probably member of some government organisation that didn't want anyone to poke in their business. I couldn't tell that to my team, of course, so I went along with it. The days went by and we didn't find much, neither for nor against the conviction. It was in times like this I missed Jarvis and Howard. They'd always find something useful. I would have taken anything at that point, even some childhood story about the convicted that had nothing to do with the case.
I went to see the convicted myself, a man ironically named John Thompson. With me was Sam, the man who was supposed to get my job. As you can imagine, he didn't like me much. When I think about, he's kind of like Jack Thompson, just without the misogynistic attitude. We entered the visitation room and John Thompson had a peculiar facial expression. Like he had remembered something, but couldn't put his finger on it. I dragged the horrible metal chair out and sat down. Sam looked at me expectantly, as if he was about to test me. I cleared my throat and said, "So, Mr Thompson, I'll be frank with you: we have nothing, nothing on the deceased and nothing on you. It doesn't exactly help that you have no alibi for the night of the murder. It would help if you could just tell us where you were that night."
Thompson just stared at the wall with his brows furrowed. After a good minute of deafening silence, I looked at Sam. "Was he like this the last time too?" He just shook his head, clearly as stunned as I was. I turned my attention to John, not that he noticed; he was too busy staring at the wall. "Mr Thompson? Can you tell m-" "Who says frank, nobody says frank anymore." Mr Thompson interrupted me. "What?" I said bewildered. "Nobody says frank anymore." He stared at me with suspiciously, "who are you?" The question caught me off guard, and I had to take a moment to remember my cover story. "I'm Hayes Morrison and this is Sam Spencer, we're from the Conviction Integrity Unit. We're reviewing your case to see if you were wrongfully convicted." I explained to him. "Liar." He said, his head tilted and his brows furrowed, as if trying to figure me out. "Mr Thompson I assure you we're here trying to prove your innocence. Something that would go a lot easier if you could give us your whereabouts from the night of the murder." Disguising my British accent had become easier over the years, but this man had hit a nerve and I had to focus not letting it slip through. Mr Thompson started smiling, as if he'd finally figured it out the missing piece of a puzzle no one else could see. There was something worrying about the way he looked at me, like he knew all my secrets, like he knew who I really was.
"We're not going to get anything from him. Let's go, Sam." I gathered the files and motioned the guard that we were finished. I had nearly reached the door when Mr Thompson said, "Morrison, does the name Daniel Sousa ring a bell to you?" I stopped dead in my tracks. I had never forgiven myself for not being there for Daniel that night nearly seventy years ago. It was a dreadful night, he had ringed me for backup, but I got there too late. I still dreamed about how his last words were that it wasn't my fault. My road down memory lane was quickly interrupted by Mr Thompson's eerie laugh. "Just as I thought. You should talk to my lawyer; she has more answers than you'd think." He grinned at me, as if this was his reward.
I rushed out of the room as soon as the guard opened the door, got out as quickly as I could, not even bothering to wait for Sam or answering his questions. I just had to get out of there. As soon as I got out I emptied my stomach contents. Sam got out quickly enough to see me vomiting, a sight few would want to see. "Are you okay, boss?" he asked, he looked confused and worried. Like he actually cared, but I knew that as soon as we returned to the office he would start searching for Daniel Sousa and try to find a connection between him and me. According to agent Johnson you could find anything on the Internet. I really hoped he wouldn't find anything. "Yeah, I'm fine, just ate a bad lunch." I brushed him off.
When we got back to the meeting room I ordered Tess to find Mr Thompson's lawyer. That girl would do anything I asked without any questions. I went to my office to clear my head. How had Mr Thompson known about Sousa? Did this mean that my cover was blown. I pulled out my phone and dialled agent Johnson's number. "Daisy," she said after a few seconds. "Hi, it's Morrison here. I just wanted to ask some questions about the Internet, I still haven't got the hang off it." I explained. "Ah, yes, the Internet. Do you have your computer in front of you? What are you struggling with?" she asked. I had been around computers for almost three years and I still couldn't work them. All this new technology was overwhelming. "Yes, I've turned it on just like you explained the last time. Now, I was wondering how I search for things. Is there some sort of computer based archive?" I said sheepishly, I hated not being able to figure this out on my own, but I didn't even know how to start. It seemed like Daisy didn't mind, she chuckled as she explained, "Yes, there is a digital archive. Do you see that compass looking icon? That's the Internet, click on it." After half an hour I finally managed to search for what I wanted on a site called Google. It was surprisingly helpful.
I brought up an old newspaper about Sousa's death; thankfully there was no pictures of me there or a mention of my name. Relived, I sank back in my chair. I didn't have to relocate, and create a new identity. I had become quite fond of being Hayes Morrison. A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. "This better be good, Tess, I've had a really long day." I practically glared at the poor girl. "Yes, Mr Thompson's lawyer is here in five minutes." She smiled. I nodded and she disappeared out of my office. I cleared my thoughts once more before heading out to the meeting room again.
When I entered the room, they all fell quite. "Judging from your silence, I'm guessing Sam told you about the interesting meeting at the prison. The lawyer will be here in a few moments so we'll find out what all the fuss is about." They all looked mildly embarrassed before returning to work. It didn't take all before there was a knock on the door. To be honest I was really nervous about this lawyer, what if she blew my cover. To seem like I didn't care that much I ordered Tess to open the door. Behind me there was an all-familiar voice. "I'm here to see Hayes Morrison." I turned around to see that the lawyer looked just like Angie. I turned to Tess; this was probably some sort of revenge for me bossing her around. She had a pretty convincing innocent act going on. "What is this, Tess, some sort of cruel joke?" my voice slightly wavered, but I didn't care. "What, is it her granddaughter or something?" my Hayes persona was falling apart, and my accent was slipping through. "How did you even know about this, are you HYDRA?" I looked at her disgusted, trying to make sense of what I was seeing in front of me.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, this is the lawyer you asked me to contact. Hayes, you're hyperventilating, are you okay?" I noticed that I was hyperventilating, where did all my undercover training go. I was totally unprepared; I didn't know what to do. "Peggy?" I heard Angie's voice again, could it really be her? "Oh, English, it's been so long." She croaked. "Angie, is that really you?" I dared to believe. "No, it can't be, they told me you died 30 years ago." But she looked so real, how could she be standing there? "I thought you were dead. You-you were dead" My eyes were filling with tears, as my heartbreak from Angie's death returned. The world was spinning; I didn't know what was up and what was down. "This is too much, I can't take it." I whispered as I ran past her and outside to get some fresh air. The cold air filled my lungs, and I could feel sobs threatening to erupt. I just had to get out of there.
I started walking, I didn't know where I was going, and I just walked. It wasn't until I got there that I realised where I was. My feet had taken me to my old apartment, the one I shared with Angie since 1946, the apartment where all my fondest memories were made. It was in this apartment we had shared our first kiss. It was here we had told each other all our deepest secrets. It was here Angie told me she had gotten her first role in a Broadway play. It was here I had told her about my real job, about my real life. And most important of all it was here we had confessed our love to each other. The apartment was a painful reminder of my time with Angie and I hadn't visited it since I found out she was dead.
"I had a feeling you might be here." Angie said interrupting my thoughts. "Do you remember that time we made cookies for Ana's birthday, but we ended up having a food fight and ruining the kitchen?" She continued. The more she talked, the more she sounded real. Was this he universe's cruel way of punishing me for Sousa's death? "You're not real." I whispered, mostly to convince myself. "What? Peggy Carter you look at me right now." I turned around and looked at her. My lips quivered and tears were streaming down both our faces.
"I've searched for you for ten years. I knew you had to be out there somewhere." She started and I stared at her. She had been here for seven more years than me. "When you touched that time piece back in 1950, you disappeared. I was frantic, panicking and helpless, so I called Howard and said that he had to find you. But he didn't have a chance because I picked the piece up and the world went black and then suddenly I was in this strange new world. All records said that you had disappeared without a trace in 1950, so I've spent my time ever since searching for you. So don't come here and say I'm not real." She finished. I threw my arms around her and held on as tight as I could. It didn't seem to bother her as she hugged me back just as tight. I inhaled deeply, and chuckled lightly. "You still smell the same, you know, honey and lavender" I smiled. "I've missed you too, English."
Author's Note: Okay, that was my first try at a Cartinelli fanfic. Hope it wasn't too bad. English is not my first language, so please be kind. Hope you enjoyed it.