Rated T

They had left Peggy alone for well over an hour, hoping naively that the solitude and silence within the interrogation room might make her crack, but it was to no avail and Dooley was getting impatient. Jack walked back into the room and she gracefully turned her head to watch him, betraying no hint of fear, anxiety or remorse. Slowly but firmly, he closed the door behind him and pointedly pulled the blind down to cover the clouded glass. Only then did he turn to face her, meeting her penetrating gaze with one hand in his pocket.

"Dooley sent you in for the full press," she said simply; it was not a question.

Jack nodded once, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed into a frown. "I did have one condition," he told her, and then he pulled the key to the observation room next door from his pocket and placed it on the empty table in front of her. "There is no one behind that glass," he told her truthfully, having closed and locked the door himself. He came forward and sat on the edge of the table right in front of her, the added height making him loom over her. "It's just you and me."

There was a long silence as they simply stared at each other, with Jack holding her steady and defiant gaze. Absently, he thought that she reminded him of a sculpture, all white marble and serene, carved features. He wondered if she could feel the tension that was rolling off him in waves, wondering if she knew that he felt sick to the stomach at the prospect of what Dooley wanted him to do.

He sighed, still holding her gaze. "Don't make me do this, Peggy," he asked quietly, one last ditch effort to make her talk willingly. "You gotta give me something."

"I am not the one making you do this," she countered, her clipped voice betraying not even the smallest flicker of fear for what was to come.

Slowly, Jack unbuttoned the cuff on his left sleeve and started to roll the shirt up his forearm. "Yes, you are. Every goddamn thing that you've done is what's making me do this," he told her, a hint of bitterness entering his voice. He started on his right cuff as well. "But before we begin, I want you to tell me why," he asked her, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. "Why the hell are you protecting Stark?"

"He is not a traitor," she repeated; they had heard all of this from her before.

Jack shook his head, still towering over her seated form. "Even if I believed you, there's more to it that that," he said knowingly.

She didn't reply.

Holding her gaze, his long fingers started to undo the knot on his tie as well. He saw her gaze flicker down to what his hands were doing – and he saw the tiniest hint of confusion, apprehension, even, in her eyes as he pulled the tie free from his collar before she quickly masked it. It gave him a small, vicious thrill of satisfaction to know that she was not as composed as she appeared. "I would have thought a girl like you would know better than to fall for the likes of him."

"Howard and I are not in a relationship, nor have we ever been," Peggy retorted instantly, the conviction in her voice almost swaying him.

He wadded up the tie in his hand, still sitting on the edge of the table in front of her. "See, I'd like to believe that much, at least, is true," he told her honestly, though his voice also held resignation – she had failed to cooperate, and now he had no choice.

Without warning, he suddenly reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair in his hand, firmly tilting her head back. Her red lips parted in surprise and her hair was as silky soft as he had always imagined it would be against his grasping fingers. "But the fact remains that you and Stark are in this neck deep together," he told her in a quiet, low voice, his face close to hers. "You're the best lead we've got and you are going to tell me everything."

With his other hand still gripping her hair, he held his wadded up tie up to her mouth.

"We didn't do the pantomime with the carrot and the stick, so you'll want to bite down on this instead," he said, his gaze flicking between her wide eyes and her tempting red lips.

Ignoring the proffered tie, she shook her head slowly, looking up at him. "You're not going to do this," she said, her voice quiet and firm.

Jack used his grip on her hair to forcibly tilt her head back even further, exposing the white column of her neck. "You think so?" he asked cruelly, not wanting to show weakness in front of her even while he felt a horrible churning in his lower belly. This was like some god-awful parody of his many fantasies involving Peggy, as if the universe was paying a sick joke on him. The number of times he had imagined sinking his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back much like he was right now so that he could nip and kiss his way down her throat.

He'd thought so many times about making her moan, scream, beg, even – but not in pain, never in pain. He never wanted to leave a single mark on her soft white skin – well, faint marks on her neck from his mouth, perhaps, subtle signs of her ownership, maybe even the shadow of his fingers on her hips or thighs, a match for the scratches that her long nails would undoubtedly leave on his own skin, but never had he thought of touching her with the intention of causing her pain.

"I do, Jack," she answered him. Her voice was soft, but her gaze was steady and determined – a silent challenge, waiting for his next move.

She was right, of course she was bloody well right, he wasn't going to do this.

If it was anyone else then maybe he could forget the fact that they were a woman, forget everything that his grandmother had ever told him about treating dames with respect and just get the job done. But this was Peggy. This was Peggy goddamn Carter and despite all of the lies, despite running around behind their backs with Stark for months, he could not bring himself to hurt her.

He wondered if that made him brave or a coward, if he was a good man for nor wanting to harm her or a bad one for not doing his duty.

Perhaps it was a little bit of both – either way, he couldn't do this and they both knew it full well.

With that realisation, he swallowed hard and relaxed his grip ever so slightly. His fingers were still in her hair but they no longer grasping punishingly, rather they were cupping the back of her head, still tilting her face to look up at him. She must have felt the change since she frowned at him, her red lower lip slightly fuller than the top.

"Jack?" she questioned, blinking up at him, and he didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to do next.

There was a swift knock on the door; they both turned to look at Agent Ramirez as he poked his head in, noticing his gaze flicking between Peggy still cuffed to the table and Jack sitting in front of her, gripping her hair and tilting her head back. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, no doubt feeling the tension that was palpable in the room. "Chief wants both of you in the briefing room immediately," he said simply. "There's been a new development."

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(I promise I am writing the next 'Stirring the leaves' chapter too - it is such a long one that it is taking aaaagggggeeessss, but a one-shot like this can be bashed out in a few hours)