Author's Note Just a quick word to let you guys know that English isn't my mother tongue and that any feedback on grammar, spelling or syntax would be immensely appreciated. I whipped this up really quick last night after watching the last episode of AC because I desperately needed to hang onto the belief that everything will be right and friendship is magical and Peggy will be okay and they'll all be friends. (Although if you feel like reading this from a shippy point of view, be my guest.)

Coincidentally, this is the first time I publish anything in English, the first time I write for the AC fandom, and actually the first time in many years I publish my writing on the internet, so please be nice ! Can't wait to hear from y'all. xxx

'You gotta be fucking kidding me, Thompson. Chief Dooley - '

'I know what Chief Dooley said, Ramirez. And I think he was right - before. But as it turned out, Carter was telling the truth about Ivchenko being up to something.'

'That doesn't mean anything ! She's still a traitor, and we can't '

'Look, I know how you feel about it, and I heard what you had to say, but like it or not, I'm the deputy, so I'm in charge until HQ sends someone else, and we do as I say,' Thompson growled in a definitive tone. 'And right now, I say we keep Carter around, have an eye on her, and investigate. Maybe she was telling the truth about the rest, or maybe she wasn't, but we won't amount to anything if we let her vanish, and that's exactly what'll happen if we don't handle her. Best way to get her to cooperate is to keep her around as a consultant on the Stark case.'

His voice was hard and bossy enough to effectively shut Ramirez up. The agent still looked disgruntled and a tad bitter, his jaw tightening, his fist closed firmly in the pocket of his trousers, but he didn't voice any more complaints.

Chief Dooley had died twenty-four hours prior, and things were still as much of a hot mess as they were five minutes after he'd jumped out that window and blown up above Sullivan Street. Jack had been appointed deputy about a year prior, after the previous owner of the job, old Jonathan Gergich, had died of a heart attack, betrayed by his passion for greasy foods and alcohol ; and he honestly hadn't thought it might come to mean anything anytime soon. But things didn't quite turn out as he had expected, evidently.

Everyone had welcomed the interim chief with appreciative nods and confidence in his abilities ; after all, Thompson was one of the best agents the New-York branch of the SSR counted in its ranks, and not a soul in the office doubted he would make the right calls.

Until he had decided to take Peggy Carter back in.

Ramirez had been the first to frankly speak up about his concerns, but Jack was no fool. At least half the office felt as confused, doubtful, and downright betrayed as Ramirez did ; but having served closer to the former deputy for a longer amount of time, the man felt braver in expressing his opinions, and had implicitly appointed himself as the voice of his dissatisfied coworkers.

That fact, while adding up to the ever growing pile of Jack's problems, didn't even make the top of the list, he mused as he locked himself up in his new office and sat down in the bench - not daring sit in Dooley's old armchair just yet - and letting out a heavy sigh.

Peggy Carter herself, however, got dangerously close to that top spot.

Honestly, Thompson felt a headache forming in his skull just thinking of the goddamn Brit.

But what else could he do ? Let her frolick out in the open, disappear God knew where with Stark's butler - probably somewhere above Greenland - and risk losing track of her and the precious intel she might give them ? She'd been right about Ivchenko ; worse yet, she'd seen it, before anyone else in the office. Ever since the Belarus mission, she'd proven times and times again that she really was good. Hell, she was one of the most competent people Jack had ever worked with, as downright irritating as it was to admit.

He knew what it looked like, of course. From his men's point of view, he was disrespecting late Chief Dooley's last commands for a skirt - and the swift pair of legs under it. Suddenly, he felt very much humiliated, like all of his achievements were all at once overlooked and his better judgment hindered by a potential crush on Carter, like he was that weak and unprofessional.

Is this how she felt when you suggested she had a thing for Stark ? a vicious voice inside his head suddenly whispered, and he couldn't help his jaw's sudden slack. Of course that was how she felt. Tenfold.

It seemed the more he uncovered about her, the more questions he had ; but still, he was starting to understand a couple things about Carter. And she was starting to make him understand a couple things about the world, he realized.

Jack Thompson was, by and large, a misogynist. It wasn't his attitude towards women as a whole that qualified him for the label so much as his conception of what a woman ought to be - or rather, what a woman ought not to be, and, as a result, his attitude towards women who did not comply into that tight-lidded box.

Looking back, he could not think of a single instance in his life in which his feathers had been as ruffled as they had been the first time - the condition only worsening henceforward, of course - that he had met Margaret Carter. He still remembered that day, crystal clear ; her sharp gaze, heels, lipstick, cheekbones, voice, her sharp everything ; how she looked like a war veteran trapped in a secretary's body. Of course, he would learn later on, that was exactly what she was. But at the time, he'd just dismissed her with a wink and a patronizing «welcome in the Big Apple, doll, I like my coffee black with no sugar». He'd mistaken the ice-cold glare she'd stared him down with for European stuckupness, and figured she'd quickly learn her ways and place in the office. Little did he know that she would do just that, while working to wrap them all around her finger without them noticing a damn thing.

That killed him. How she'd played everyone, without a single slip up, a single clue leading back to her. Well, almost. Had it not been for the little scheme and slightly convoluted sequence of coincidences that had led to Sousa catching a glimpse of her bare shoulder and linking the marks it bore to the Mysterious Blonde, they might have never even caught her. Jack felt genuinely dumbfounded at how good she was. They'd had an incredibly talented agent - an incredibly talented spy - right under their noses all along, and they'd had her serve them coffee.

In hindsight, he would have had trouble trusting the SSR with his secrets too, had he been in such a position. But he was not, and could not ever be. That weight was Carter's to bear alone. Yes, he was starting to understand a few things about the world, and about Peggy.

'If it's any consolation, I think you're making the right call.'

Sousa's hand on his forearm felt somewhat friendly, and Jack resisted the instinctive urge to shrug it off. Maybe he could use a friend right now, he decided. So instead of pushing the man away, he nodded, his lips a thin, tight line.

But of course Sousa thought he was making the right call. Anything to help clearing Carter's name and file. The agent was as adamant proving she was innocent as he had been proving she was guilty. And I thought my relationship with Carter was paradoxical, Jack mused, shaking his head as he stepped inside the interrogation room.

Peggy was alone this time ; Jarvis had been locked in another room, to avoid further plotting between the two. Just in case. The last time they'd been left alone together, they had blown up the way glass while cuffed to a table.

The British woman did not seem happy with the new developments. She was clicking her neatly clipped nails on the wood, the drumming sound in sync with the light tapping of her foot on the floor. She looked up at Jack, her face not softening in the least. She wasn't going to give in a single inch until she got answers and promises, he knew.

Good thing that was exactly what he brought her.

'Good news, Carter,' he started in a tone much lighter than he felt. 'You're not going to jail. In fact, you're not even fired.'

Peggy didn't reply right away, staring at him, her stone mask slipping just a tad to reveal confusion. 'Is this your idea of a practical joke, agent Thompson ?'

'Actually, it's Chief Thompson, now,' he corrected, a bit reluctantly. He still had to come to terms with the fact that the job he'd been hoping for for years had been handed out to him in such dire conditions.

'Yes, I heard. Congratulations.'

The tone was dry and impatient, every bit matching the woman's expression.

'I appreciate the enthusiasm, but the banners and parade really won't be necessary,' Jack muttered, hoping against his better judgment that lightening the mood might get him somewhere.

He realized as she raised an eyebrow at him that he was tiptoeing around Carter. He actually had no idea how to act in front of her now. He knew too much and too little at the same time, had too many contradicting images of her colliding in his mind to form a coherent picture of the woman he was facing. He decided to sober up, and pretend this was like any other case ; except it wasn't, in a number of ways. Starting with the infinity of layers that thickened the silence between them. The electricity in the air tasted like Russia, like bourbon, like dirty secrets, meaningful glances, fragile trust, blossoming respect - and lies.

'Get to the point, Jack,' Peggy finally commanded tightly. He did not miss the first name use.

'I'm offering you a deal. You keep giving us intel on Stark, Dottie Underwood, Leviathan, anything you can think of that might be useful. No more lies, no more games. Just the truth.'

'What's in it for me ?'

'You mean, other than the satisfaction of helping the world fight off a terrorist threat against innocent lives ?'

Peggy rolled her eyes. 'You mentioned a deal. There must be something for me at the other end of the bargain.'

'Simple : you get your job back. I wasn't joking, earlier.'

'Oh, really ? You're going to take me back in, just like that ?'

'Not 'just like that', obviously.' Thompson shifted in his spot, sliding his hands in his pockets to keep himself from running them through his hair. 'There are a few terms and conditions attached.'

'Terms and conditions,' she repeated, slowly. 'Of course.'

Peggy studied the man who stood before her as he spoke, and she had a hard time remembering seeing him so stressed out. Except, of course... Russia. On the field, with a gun in his hand and the expression of a five year old lost on a beach stranded from his mother ; and in the plane, the words pouring out of his mouth as he seemingly barely could control them anymore. What a shocker ; Jack Thompson did not like losing control.
In fact, he seemed terrified at the very idea. Yet, she got the strange feeling that he was not happy with the sudden charge that had been bestowed upon him, for some reason. Maybe he was scared he wouldn't be able to control everything.

She could relate.

'Nothing too crazy, rest assured,' Jack said, attempting to slowly ease the conversation into a more casual tone - and failing. 'We'd just like to keep an eye on you - and as you can guess, we'll have a harder time doing that if you go back at Griffith's.'

Peggy narrowed her eyes at him, trying to determine if he was going down the road she suspected he was.

'You're gonna keep me locked up in here, aren't you,' she breathed, having a harder and harder time keeping the lid on her anger.

'Don't be so dramatic, of course we aren't. There are a few accommodations in the facility, a staff housing type thing - '

'You are keeping me locked up in here !' Peggy exclaimed, rising from her seat.

'That's one way to look at it, but here's another,' Jack retorted, staring back at her with newfound determination. She wanted to make this harder on him ? Fine, he'd play along. 'If you refuse the deal, I won't be able to do much to keep you away from jail anymore.'

'Oh, you mean like you've done so far ?' she shot back, the cuffs at her wrist clicking accusingly like shackles at the feet of a prisoner.

'I was just buying some time to think,' the agent growled, growing more irritated by the second. 'And to protect you. Who do you figure is next on their list after Dooley, huh ?'

Peggy stared him down hard. 'I don't need you to protect me.'

'Maybe, but I need to be sure you're safe. And if that means a lightly bruised ego and wrist, then I'm sorry, but so be it.'

Silence settled down on the interrogation room again. Carter glared at him bitterly, but he could tell - or was it just wishful thinking ? - that her walls of steel were starting to chip away a bit.

'Look, Peggy,' he sighed, and her first name rolling off his lips wasn't a fortunate calculation so much as a tired slip up, 'I'm throwing you the bone here. Let's help each other out. I can have your back if you give me a chance to trust you again.'

'You never trusted me to begin with.'

'I did, on that plane.'

He sounded uncharacteristically open and sincere, Peggy mused, studying him - with less aggressivity in her gaze this time. The mention of their conversation aboard the flight from Russia immediately made her want to soften a tad, like he had.

'What are the other... conditions ?' she finally uttered between gritted teeth, looking away.

There was some arguing, some indignation, a bit of slight yelling, and no concessions, but in the end, somehow, they got to an agreement.

Peggy was to be hosted in one of the three staff housing flats at the facility - and her door was to be locked at night ('How is this any different than prison ?' - 'It's much more comfortable, and you get to be useful all day long.' - 'So what, you use me and then put me back on the shelf ?'). She would only be able to leave the facility accompanied by an agent - armed, although Jack wasn't about to tell her about that. (She knew, anyway.)

'How about Mr. Jarvis ?'

'Mr. Jarvis is to be kept here a little longer for interrogating - '

'You're going too far, Thompson, he's the most innocent one here - '

'Interrogating which you will be conducting,' he finished, and Peggy's mouth clamped shut.

'Isn't this arrangement going straight against usual SSR policies ?' she questioned, an eyebrow raised.

'Honestly, Carter, everything about this whole case is going straight against usual SSR policies,' Jack sighed.

Peggy didn't know what exactly triggered it, the intricateness of the mess they were all forcefully dragged into, the desperate edge to Jack's sigh, or the exhaustion suddenly so obvious on his face, but anyhow, a small, amost reluctant smile crept up on hers.

'Having fun, are you ?'

But he sketched, too, a sincere, if tight, grin of his own.

'I'll be back in a while. In the mean time, I think Sousa wanted a word with you.'

'Jack...'

He half-turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes.

'Thank you,' Peggy finally said, after taking a deep breath. 'You could have locked me up and called it a day, but you didn't. And I suspect that decision doesn't sit well with the rest of the office.' Jack scoffed. 'But you chose to trust me, against what history, your coworkers, Chief Dooley's last commands, and probably your better judgment told you. That's... Something to be grateful for.'

'My better judgment...' he repeated, smirking for real this time. 'I'm not entirely sure anyone around here knows what that is anymore.'

Peggy nodded, and he left the room, his words still hanging in the air.

Sousa didn't seem as lost about better judgment validity matters as Thompson sounded. He walked in the interrogation room looking every bit as tired, though.

'Did Thompson fill you in on the latest developments ?' he asked, dropping heavily in the chair facing her.

'Last I heard, Underwood and Ivchenko were still on the run and the theater's neighbourhood was still being tested for any gas leaks.'

'We evacuated, just in case. Jarvis wasn't able to tell us much more once we showed him the device, except for its use.'

'Which we learned about a tad too late,' Peggy sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingers to smooth the worried wrinkles that creased her skin.

So many innocent lives taken, ended in terrible agony. And for what purpose ? To spread fear ? To taunt the SSR ?

'I wonder what their motive was,' Sousa mused, mirroring her thoughts. 'Is it some kind of new age terrorism ? Maybe they're trying to make us panic. Have the people doubt their government.'

'One isolated attack on a small theater, no matter how dreadful, won't suffice to terrorize a whole country. They're going to strike again, probably sooner than later.'

They fell silent, reflecting on the dire situation at hand. Then Sousa coughed, and Peggy looked up at him.

'Anyway... Thompson told us he's letting you back in. Congratulations.'

'He's so letting me back in that he's actually not letting me out anymore,' she replied, just a hint of bitterness in her voice.

'It's for your own good, Peggy,' the other agent tempered. 'It may not seem like it, but apparently he doesn't fancy you ending up in jail. And neither do I.'

'Why ? Why are you two so complacent ? I betrayed your trust, I lied to you, worked for the enemy, caused one of your coworkers - one of your friends - to die, and for all you know I might still be lying. Why would you try to help me ?'

She was well aware that insisting on all those points might not help her case, but she needed to know if she could fully trust their sudden burst of philanthropy. Just in case there was another bad surprise awaiting her round the corner.

'Honestly ?'

Daniel looked away, down at his hands, searching for an answer that might satisfy the both of them.

'A gut feeling,' he finally said. 'I can't tell you exactly why or how I still trust you, but somehow I know you're telling the truth. About Stark, about Leviathan, about you, about everything you've been doing in the past six months. In a way, it sounds more credible than you being corrupted and working against everything you're supposed to believe in. I mean, weaponizing little girls ? Killing innocent people ? That doesn't sound like Captain America's best girl to me. And it sure as hell doesn't sound like the Peggy Carter I know.'

Both agents studied each other for a moment, the silence between them more comfortable. The faint distress she'd perceived behind Thompson's words, the fear that he might be following the wrong track, that he might make a dire mistake again, was nowhere found in the man sat before her. He sounded sad, and tired, but not lost or doubtful. Not about this.

'Thank you, Daniel,' she whispered, placing her free hand atop his. They shared a smile, and Peggy swallowed back the lump in her throat as she realized something. 'I could use a friend within these walls,' she sighed.

'You've got one.'