Usually, Angie was very good at guessing the character of a person.

Usually.

Since the day they first met, Angie knew Peggy Carter, or "English"as she liked to call her, was going to be a tough nut to crack in that department. The hurdle wasn't the fact she was a police officer – the fact that the L&L was so close to the precinct meant that Angie had to deal with a lot of cops on a daily basis.

No, it was the fact that Peggy was not your average police officer. She was simply something else. Something that couldn't even be properly defined.

And that is what made her visits to L&L so much more fun. While not always made possible – Peggy worked at a very unorthodox schedule that made it very hard to adjust her shifts to – the small meetings they held every time she entered the cafe always made her heart beat a little bit faster. Soon she simply could not wait for another encounter. It was then that she could simply open up and talk to the English woman about her auditions, work woes or just overall gossip. Regardless of what she talked about, Peggy was always eager to listen, sometimes chiming in with her own stories. For a police officer, they were quite mundane for Angie's liking – mainly about writing endless reports and writing parking tickets – but she didn't really care. As long as Peggy was there, she was content.

For Peggy, the conversations with Angie were usually the highlights of the day. She was amazed at how much energy can one have in their body, as Angie always seemed as if she had drunk a bit too much Red Bull, regardless of time. Peggy was slowly taking a liking to the waitress/future Broadway star.

Which made lying to her about work even more painful. What was worse, she really had no reason to lie at all. She tried to make up excuses for it – that Angie would not believe her, that the knowledge would somehow endanger her. After some deliberation, Peggy decided to set the record straight in the future. For now, she limited talking about her work to a bare minimum, instead focusing on listening to what Angie had to say and offering advice, comfort or laughs, depending on the situation. It made her happy – something she hadn't felt for a long time. The warm feeling she felt for the first time always returned like a boomerang whenever she saw Angie.

Was she in love? She didn't know.

I guess I'll find out sooner or later, she murmured to herself one night before falling asleep.

"Alright squad, listen up"

Dooley's voice seemed even more powerful than it usually was, amplified by the walls of his office. It was dark, as the projector had been switched on for the briefing. Dooley pressed the button on the mouse, making a photo appear on the screen. On it were the front and a profile picture from a mugshot of a Hispanic-looking male. His face looked sort of like a potato, with a nose deformed after one too many fistfights, a knife scar on his left cheek and a small stubble under his nose.

"This is Emilio Hernandez." Dooley continued "According to the DEA he's been involved in meth trade on the East Coast. They also think he has connections with Dominican gangs in the area. Right now he's sort of hot on his heels, however, not only because he has a warrant on his head."

"And why is that?" Sousa asked, stroking his chin.

"Yesterday the DEA busted a meth lab of his outside town. He was actually there and bailed. Just an hour ago, a patrol in an unmarked car sighted him entering a house on Staten Island. They've been surveying and he hasn't moved from there. We think it's his safe house. It's our chance to grab him."

"And why don't the Feds do that? They let him slip in the first place." Thompson spoke up, a bit annoyed.

"Sergeant Thompson, were you speaking something? Or was it just my imagination?" Dooley retorted, anger visible on his face and palpable in his voice.

Thompson didn't respond, blankly staring at the conference table.

"No, sir." he mumbled under his breath.

"Good. Lieutenant Carter, you and the team are to be up in 10 minutes, our time window is small and closing here." Dooley said, turning her attention to Peggy.

"Yes, sir." Peggy answered "Move the lot of you, we don't have time for chit-chat." she exclaimed, prompting the men to stand up and quickly dart to the locker room. In it, they quickly donned their Kevlar vests, helmets, goggles, elbow and knee pads before moving at a brisk pace to the armored van, where they kept their weapons. With Dugan behind the wheel, they set off, with the exact address being relayed by the dispatch.

Soon, they were on site. The hideout of the criminal turned out to be a middle – sized, two-story house with a garage, painted in brick red. They quickly exited the van and formed up in a semi-circle around Peggy.

"The plan is simple – we move in together, fast and in force. Simple snatch and grab. I lead the way, Thompson, you close the formation. He's possibly armed and dangerous, so safeties off. Good? Let's move." Peggy said, nearly in one breath and with a tone filled with confidence.

The team quickly moved out from behind the van. Peggy was leading the ensemble, with Barton covering her left and Dugan covering her right. Sousa stayed behind Peggy, but in front of Thompson, who closed the column. They moved at a steady pace, observing the surroundings, checking for movement. Soon, they were at the door. Peggy took the spot to the right, while Barton moved to the left side.

"Breach, flash and clear" she said, almost in a monotone voice. "Dugan, Sousa, clear the upper floor when we move in."

Without a word, Clint grabbed the small explosive charge from his utility belt. He armed it and stickied it over the lock, producing the detonator with his second hand. Peggy glanced at Dugan, who was already holding a flashbang in his hand. She gave them a nod. Barton counted down to three and then pressed the detonator.

The explosive detonated, forcing the door open. Peggy turned her head away, but still heard the sound of the grenade bouncing off the door frame into the house. She heard it go off and then saw Barton move in, shouting.

"NYPD, give yourself up!"

She moved in right behind him, checking the left. She quickly glanced behind her and saw the rest enter the house. Suddenly, she heard a noise to the right, coming from the living room. She turned and saw Hernandez, with a revolver in his hand

"Police, drop your weapon and hit the floor!" Barton shouted, aiming his M4 into the room.

"Fuck you, hijo de puta!" Peggy heard in response and saw Hernandez aim the gun at Barton. The police officers were faster, however.

They both pulled the triggers on their guns simultaneously. Barton set his rifle to single-fire, while Peggy had her MP-5 in burst mode. She saw her burst hit Hernandez in the chest and abdomen, while Barton's shot hit him in the neck. He quickly lost balance and fell backwards, smashing the glass coffee table into small pieces. Peggy then saw him gripping his throat, wheezing loudly, blood shooting through his fingers. She moved to him, kicking the gun from his reach. There was nothing she could do to save him – she looked at him spasm a few times before he stopped moving.

"This is Dugan, top floor clear, over." she heard on the radio.

"The back is clear too." Thompson added.

"All clear!" she exclaimed, still feeling the adrenaline flowing through her. She quickly grabbed the send button and pressed it.

"Entry Team to TOC. Suspect killed, all clear. Out."

"Roger that. Out."

The team rejoined in the living room. They all looked at the lifeless body lying in a pool of blood and glass shards. After a while they all exited through the front door, in silence. On the way back, Dooley asked why they fired. After he heard the description of what happened, he nodded in understanding. After the return, they left the gear in the locker room and went back with the Captain to the office. There, he only said

"Dismissed. Enough for today."

Soon, Peggy found herself on the street, walking at a steady pace towards the cafe. She was calm, although the memories from the day still lingered in her head. She had killed and seen people being killed before, but it was never an easy thing to cope with, regardless of how many times she saw death. That's why the prospect of another talk with Angie lightened her mood up a bit.

When she entered the establishment, it was empty. Closing time was coming soon and Peggy saw Angie already wiping the floor. When their eyes met, she could see a smile taking shape on Angie's face, as she quickly darted to meet her.

"Hiya, English!" she exclaimed "The usual?"

"Just the coffee, please", she answered, her voice sounding a bit throaty.

"OK, wait a sec." said Angie, quickly grabbing a pot and a mug and turning back to Peggy. When she filled her cup, she left the pot at the bar and sat down opposite of the English woman.

"So, how was your day?" Angie asked, curious "Mine wasn't that terrible, tips were OK, not too many jerks. Can't complain, really."

"Angie..." Peggy said, looking her right in the eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. "... I might have been economical with the truth with you."

The waitress tilted her head, frowning.

"Go on." she said, in a neutral tone.

"When we first met, I said that I was a desk jockey at work. Then I kept saying how I only do menial stuff and all that crap. But it wasn't true. And after today I felt I couldn't lie to you anymore..." Peggy said, still keeping eye contact, but with her voice coming out weaker and weaker "... I'm not the person you have me for. "

Angie didn't say a word. Her face was focused, but Peggy couldn't see any anger.

"I'm in a SWAT team. And I saw a man die today. Granted, he was aiming a gun at my squad mate and was a wanker, but still." Peggy finished, tensing up, awaiting for the response.

Angie kept quiet for a moment. Peggy could see she was analyzing what she just said and worked on a response. Then, she retorted, calmly and straight to the point.

"And why didn't you tell me when we first met? It's not like I'd have ratted you out to the mob."

"To be frank, I have no idea." Peggy answered, with a sigh, looking at the table. "I just can't explain it."

Then she felt Angie's touching her shoulder.

"English, look at me"

She looked up to meet Angie's gaze She felt it penetrate to even the deepest parts of her body.

"Whatever the reason, just promise me one thing. I want you to always be sincere with me, just as I have been sincere with you."

"Promise" Peggy answered, letting out a sigh of relief. "And I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be." Angie said, smiling reasurredly "Besides, no one I know has a friend in the NYPD SWAT. I guess I now have some bragging rights."

Peggy chuckled in response.

"Bragging rights granted. Now, I think you need to close shop, and I'm a bit tired, so I'll head home. I'll text you when I get back, OK?"

"No problem, English." Angie answered, with a wide grin. "See you next time."