"I know my value. Anyone else's opinion doesn't really matter."
That's what she said, not long before very politely declining his offer to go out for a drink. Now it had been a week or so of slowly getting things in order, back to routine. Many changes were being made, yes, there was more respect, yes, but there was much of the same, as well. Probably too much. Certainly the same interactions between Agent Sousa and Agent Carter: polite, respectful, enough trust for a working relationship. But no, it wasn't quite the same.
Peggy had been waiting all week for another offer and Daniel's handsome grin, but had seen only polite nods and the occasional suppressed smirk when Director Thompson was sassed or another Agent put in their place for misogyny. She didn't see much of him when she was defending his honor, or slighting a man who thought it attractive to jest about "our resident crip."
A week was a long time, though sometimes it felt as though only hours had passed. Carter was still sufficiently sore from her battle with "Dottie" during Ivchenko's capture, and the memories of Director Dooley's horrific death were still very fresh. But in that same week since, she had come a long way. Her keep— and more— had been earned in the office; she was doing actual work that challenged her intellect, and she was succeeding. One major step had been made to release the iron-strong grip her heart had taken hold of Steve Rogers' love. The war had postponed so many things, things she wished that Steve would be there to share with her, but her grief had finally come to the stage of acceptance. She would always love him, but there was now the time for her to live a fresh life.
That fresh hold of life had very much been established with her actions of late to set herself on the career path she knew she wanted. Carter was almost comfortable with her life, now. Almost.
Agent Sousa walked determinedly past her in the hall, eyes only for his work, and made his way into the filing room just down the way. With a deep breath of resolve, Peggy turned to follow him discretely and managed to catch a hint of Daniel's aftershave. She smirked at herself; only two men had ever reduced her to a lonely woman relishing such a smell. Steve was one. Her feet were trailing the other.
"Daniel—" Rounding the corner, Peggy was straight away with what she'd thought to say and stopped short. Sousa was bent over the table in the center of the room, eyes screwed shut, and his hand gripping his maimed leg through his trousers.
With a jolt, he tried to straighten when he heard her, but still leaned heavily to support himself. His face was flushed from the collar up, and there was a light sheen of sweat. "Peg, sorry, I…"
"Are you all right, Daniel?" Pushing the door to, she took some concerned steps forward, but didn't crowd him, he seemed embarrassed enough of such pain.
He paused, about to say something stupid that she would see straight through like, 'I'm fine,' or, 'it's nothing.' Instead he took a breath and shook his head very slightly. "Not today. Not really, no." He couldn't lie to Carter like he could shrug it off to the guys. She would know. He managed a tight grimace of a smile and met her eyes to see the true worry there. "Had a bad night. You know it's been rainin' steady since yesterday?"
Frowning, Peggy took a few steps more and brought her hand to cover his clenched fist on the table. "I had thought to ask if you still wanted that drink." He looked up at her in surprise. "But I think now you really should be taking today off. You're not well."
Daniel shook his head, trying again to straighten up. "I can't just take a snow day every time it rains, Peg."
"I know that if you were my agent Sousa, I'd be sending you home for the day. You're no good to me in such straits, and I'd rather have you recover after a day or two and come back with the same vigor that you always out-wit your colleagues with."
My agent Sousa. Didn't she know he was her agent? What he'd mull over for Thompson, he'd do for her in a heartbeat. Outwardly, however, the man scoffed. "I'm not much good to you on a sunny day, either. But I've got to stay—"
The grip on his wrist tightened and spread over his knuckles, and Sousa let his words fall. Peggy was giving him a very earnest look. "Daniel. Do you remember when I said that I knew my own value, and that I didn't need another's approval?" Peggy waited and he nodded, still very much held captive by her proximity and touch. "Well, I also said no one else's opinion really mattered, and I was wrong to draw such a harsh line. I was wrong because your opinion does mean rather a lot to me…" Her eyes had drifted down to where her hand still rested on Daniel's, but rose at last to meet his stare. "And I hoped that mine meant something to you, also, because I know your value very well."
Sousa really couldn't articulate how he felt or what to say just then. The ache and cramps up his leg and side were flaring, and he grit his teeth, but he wanted so bad to tell Carter just how much her opinion mattered. "Peggy, you really want me to go home?"
"What I really want is for you to come home with me, so I can make you a proper cup of tea and we can try to calm these war wounds." Though not without true concern, her eyebrow rose in a lovely arch and made him smile.
"That sounds great."
