Daniel thought he knew anger.
He thought what he felt when he first heard someone call Inés and Carlota a "portugoose" was anger. He thought what he felt when his father died working construction, leaving him the man of the house at eleven years old, was anger. He thought when he was shoved to the ground of a dirty alley by a group of Polish kids from a few streets over that he was angry. He thought what he felt when he was told he was going to France that he was angry. He thought that when he watched Harv get shot that he was angry. He thought when he was shot he was angry. He thought when he woke up with a leg gone he was angry. He thought when he arrived home without a purpose he was angry. He thought when he started hearing people call "crip" or "gimp" that he was angry. He thought when Thompson started talking down to him that he was angry.
As it turned out, Daniel didn't truly know anger.
What he felt now, that was anger.
He was angry at Peg- Carter. She had grown on him, made him finally feel like he could be equal to the other men in the office. At first he had also thought he'd be able to protect her from the rudeness of their co-workers; she had proven him wrong within days. She was far more skilled than the rest of the office, himself included. But she had been working with Stark. He was angry at Stark. Daniel believed that, inevitably, it would end up being that Howard had coerced Peggy into committing treason. He was still hopeful that she wasn't a traitor, and perhaps that was his own foolishness. Either way, he didn't want to see Peggy fall for the crime just because Stark couldn't be bothered with helping his friend. He was angry at the SSR. He was angry at them for not catching Stark sooner. Perhaps they could have prevented the weapons maker from getting his dirty little paws on Carter.
But mostly, he was angry at himself. He had been the one to fall for all of it.
He was supposed to go in and interrogate Carter in a few minutes with Thompson.
For now though, he was sitting at his desk, staring at the desk that had previously belonged to Krzeminski. He hadn't liked the man - thought he was an arrogant Polak. He had listened to the bastard every damn day, talking down to him. But he had been a good agent, if not a little thick headed. He hadn't deserved to die.
Daniel stood slowly, using both his desk and his crutch to push himself up. He made his way over to the Polak's desk; they hadn't cleaned it off, instead choosing to leave it there as a sort shrine.
Using the chair to keep his balance, Daniel lifted his crutch and swept it across the table, knocking everything to the floor with a loud crash. Every agent in the room's eyes slid to him, looks of shock on some faces and understanding on others.
This was anger.
A.N.
I finally provide a little background explanation as to why Daniel is so derogatory in regards to Krzeminski! Yay!