IV

Thurs. Morning

The plane's joystick felt stiff in her gloved grip, but Sharon dared not complain aloud; it would be too unprofessional. Her mouth felt dry anyway, and she forced herself to stare straight ahead through the small plane's cockpit window with the same blank expression she'd carried for the last thirty minutes. Any movement otherwise might betray at how terrified she was at the moment. Not to mention embarrassed and horrified.

Her mission partner turned out to be none other than Captain Steve Rogers. She'd spotted him the moment she walked into the hangar that morning at the appointed hour, a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She'd had about a moment to acknowledge Captain Rogers's presence and react before Fury had materialized out of thin air from behind the small jet she was now flying. Fury, eager to start the briefing, didn't even have the decency to let her recover from the first shock of seeing Rogers before dropping the second bombshell of the morning on her: the surveillance target.

Then again, there was absolutely no way Fury could have known about the effect the target's identity had on her…

"What did Fury say was the connection between A.I.M. and Hydra again?" Rogers said, breaking the semi-awkward silence as he turned a page of the information packet that Fury had given them prior to their departure from the helicarrier.

Sharon was quiet for a moment as she thought over her answer, trying to remember what Fury had told them both as well as what she'd heard from her coworkers. "A.I.M. and Hydra have a sort of love-hate relationship. One day, Hydra is A.I.M.'s biggest customer, the next they're clawing out each other's throats." A smile twitched on her face when she remembered something else. "Sergeant Willis, my drill instructor, once said that all S.H.I.E.L.D. has to do sometimes is just sit back when A.I.M. and Hydra are fighting each other, and just clean up the mess that the fighters left behind." She shrugged and said, "From what I've heard from the other agents, it's usually Hydra that starts these spats."

She saw Rogers frown from out of the corner of her eye. "Why not stop the fight while it is in progress? Or at least move it out of the populated areas where no one can get hurt?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Um…that is what we do," she said slowly. How long had Captain Rogers been gone on that previous mission of his? "I was just pointing out something that Sergeant Willis once said, that Hydra and A.I.M. tear each other apart more often than go up against S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Ah." Silence, and then he asked, "What is our ETA?"

Sharon glanced at the small clock on the dashboard, her stomach twisting at the reminder of their mission. "Five minutes." Her curt tone left no room for further discussion.

Or at least she thought it did. Captain Rogers apparently didn't think so. "We should start compiling a list of the target's last known locations, just so we know where to start looking for him once we arrive to the government center in Richmond," he said, too focused on the papers in front of him to notice Sharon's tightening grip on the plane's joystick

Sharon almost snorted aloud though; she could tell Rogers exactly where the target worked and lived. Hell, she could easily hand over the target's cell phone number.

The target after all was none other than Harrison Carter.

According to Fury, Harrison Carter, a prominent and well-respected Virginian politician, was suspected to have ties to Hydra. Carter was reportedly seen with a wanted Hydra/A.I.M. operative numerous times in both New York City and Richmond, enough times to raise a significant red flag in Fury's mind. The two men never met for more than fifteen minutes, were always in public places, and were always efficient. They never arrived nor departed together; Carter stayed behind more often, in a more subdued and pensive mood than from before. The final straw however for S.H.I.E.L.D. had been when operatives tracking the Hydra agent found that Carter paid for a one-way trip to Berlin for the agent, and subsequently tried to cover his tracks. Fury was understandably concerned about how far Hydra's influence spread extended into the Virginia state government, and wanted only information of Carter's activities. Nothing more.

If Fury was trying to rattle her on purpose, then he couldn't have picked a better target.

Sharon would have liked to kid herself by saying that Fury couldn't have known, but Fury was turning out to be smarter than she ever anticipated him to be.

The descent into the S.H.I.E.L.D. airbase in Richmond was silent. Rogers seemed to sense her cranky mood and wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Sharon meanwhile focused on guiding the small aircraft down toward the long gray runway, still undecided over what to do. She didn't know whether she should help S.H.I.E.L.D. by remaining silent or help her father by calling him to warn him. This was her father for goodness sake! It was hard in her mind to reconcile the man she'd trusted her entire life with the man that Fury had a profile on.

Then again, she didn't know what her father did outside the house.

Although, if she did call her father, Sharon thought while sliding a side-glance at Captain Rogers, she would probably get caught. Captain Rogers was more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

She was still sorely tempted to call. Just to see if Fury's accusations were true. But if her father were truly working with Hydra, then of course he'd deny it. Turning him into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody was the only way to go to determine for sure.

After carefully landing and guiding the small aircraft to its little hangar at the private airfield, she found the promised car waiting nearby. Fury had it equipped with the necessary equipment for the trip, and she couldn't wait to get started and figure this out once and for all. As they walked toward the vehicle, Sharon noticed that Rogers was looking around at his surroundings in an odd sort of wonder; he had only done this once before when he thought she wasn't looking, back in the helicarrier hangar.

"Question," Captain Rogers finally said as he slipped into the passenger seat. "What am I to call you during this mission?"

"Thirteen." She didn't need to look at him to sense his annoyance. "When you have an identity to protect, Captain, you'll understand."

A small, brief glance caught his faint smile as Sharon turned the key in the ignition.

"Seriously though, it will be odd if I call you 'Thirteen' out in public," he calmly pointed out.

She sighed. "If you absolutely have to, call me 'Anne'."

He didn't press the issue further.

Neither of them said anything as she drove into the heart of Richmond. They'd agreed on the flight over to bead the target as soon as possible, just to lower the chances of missing him. They could worry about their own accommodations later, when the target was tagged and being tracked.

"Does the briefing have anything on where Carter works?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

"According to this week's schedule, Carter should be in a meeting with three others, including the state senator. They will be done in thirty minutes at ten, after which he will be in another meeting with the state governor for an hour and a half. He has one more appointment at eleven-thirty, and then at noon until two he'll be leaving the office for lunch. He has a very light afternoon after, heading home at five. If he plans to meet with anyone that we're interested in, that will either be his eleven-thirty appointment or happen in the afternoon after lunch," Rogers said. She heard papers shuffling and then Rogers added, "Carter lives about forty-five minutes from where he works. He and his wife live alone, his only daughter has already graduated college and is currently serving in the United States Army."

Actually, she's sitting right next to you wondering if her and your boss is playing a game right now. Sharon also couldn't believe that her father could be such a boring person; he'd been full of games after he got home from work. Aloud she asked, "So our best bet would be to strike while he's on his lunch break?"

"No. We don't know where he's going in those two hours. I'd prefer we found that out. My plan was that you would infiltrate the government center now, locate Carter, and shadow him until you get him bugged. I'll monitor your progress from here," he said, gesturing to the gray computer bag that Sharon hadn't even noticed until now. "Don't talk to anyone unless you can't avoid it without rousing suspicion."

Well, no point in trying to follow those orders. Harrison had brought her to his work so frequently that the staff would likely recognize her anyway.

Rogers straightened in his seat as they drew closer to the city center. "Since Mr. Carter apparently has ties to Hydra, he has to stay in contact with at least one other Hydra member. They like to network; the stronger the chain, the more likely that they will succeed." Rogers paused before saying, "It's worrying that Mr. Carter is high up in the government. We should try to figure out exactly how far into the government that Hydra's influence extends, and then identify other key players. The list of names will eventually go to Fury; if we don't get any today, then the helicarrier technicians will. That way he can send out strike teams to target those specific individuals instead of making a mess out of it. We're not properly equipped to deal with it right now," Rogers said, reaching past her into the back of the small van. He pursed his lips and then said "Pull over. When it's safe."

"Excuse me?" Sharon said, turning to scowl at him. She didn't care where Rogers came from or what he did, but she wasn't going to put up with this. "I don't like backseat drivers."

Rogers frowned at her words. "What? I just told you to pull over…"

"Exactly. I don't like people telling me how to drive."

Rogers sighed. "I'm not telling you how to drive. I just said 'pull over'…"

"And I said that I don't like backseat drivers."

She felt a little nervous at his irritated sigh. "So you don't like…what was it again? 'Backseat driver'? How does that even work…?" his voice trailed off as though picturing something.

She dared not stare at him; they were still on the highway. "Backseat driver? You know, the person in the car who is not behind the wheel telling the driver what to do?" she said, frowning slightly before dismissing it off; perhaps his instructor never told him about that…

"Ah. Right. Please pull over so that you can get into the proper uniform so that you won't stick out too much."

Muttering to herself, Sharon got off on the next exit, and, after driving for a little while, found a shopping outlet. After pulling the key out of the ignition, she sat back in the driver's seat and looked back at Rogers expectantly. "All right, what does this 'uniform' entail?" she asked.

"I spoke to Armand back at the helicarrier about what he thought was appropriate for this situation, and spoke to several others," Rogers said calmly, but before Sharon could ask him why he thought S.H.I.E.L.D.'s army supplier of all people would know about something like this, Rogers continued saying, "Take this," he pressed a flat box in her hands, "And it should let you blend in well enough."

Sharon narrowed her eyes before opening the box and studying the contents. Then she slammed the lid shut. "No. Hell. No," she growled. "I refuse to wear this."

"It's just an average secretarial uniform…"

"It is a skirt. I'm willing to bet that whomever you talked to besides Armand decided to get more of a kick out of this and include heels." Sharon could just imagine that someone back at headquarters was no doubt laughing; low ranked agents and recruits, no matter the division they were in, were always the butt of numerous pranks and jokes from senior members. "I'm not wearing it. I'll get dress pants, but I'm not wearing any skirts or dresses."

"Actually, yes you are."

Sharon shot him a glare. "Didn't you just hear me? No I'm not."

Rogers met her gaze, blue eyes meeting blue. "Apparently you didn't hear me. Yes you are."

Sharon blew some loose strands of hair from her face. "Rogers, in case you have forgotten, this isn't the forties anymore. Women are no longer expected to wear skirts in the workforce."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Don't worry, Agent Thirteen. I haven't forgotten," he said coolly. He nodded toward the box. "Don't make me turn it into an order."

Sharon scowled, but left the car anyway and started walking to the nearest store to borrow a changing room or a bathroom to change. She also took the car keys to spite Captain Rogers.

She came back a few minutes later, her mood darker than before. Wearing a gray knee-length skirt, white blouse and gray jacket, Sharon felt as though she had stepped out of one her great-aunt's stories of her World War Two years. Her foul mood increased when she realized that Rogers had moved into the driver's seat in her absence, and didn't look as though he was going to move any time soon.

"Just so you know, we don't talk about this when we get back," Sharon growled as she slipped into the passenger seat.

"Why not?" Rogers glanced at her. "You look nice to me."

Sharon shifted uncomfortably under Rogers's scrutiny. "I don't know, it's not…me."

Rogers didn't say anything, just held his hand out for the keys. "Keys please, I'll be driving this time.

Sharon gritted her teeth, but didn't reply and surrendered the car keys anyway. Eyes narrowing, she remained quiet as Rogers pulled the car out of its parking spot and slipped back onto the highway. Not talking to him was her form of petty revenge; she couldn't think of anything else at the moment that wouldn't get her into trouble.

Although she did not admit it out loud, Sharon finally conceded that as far as disguises went, this ensemble would probably be her best one yet; her father and his coworkers might see her but they may not recognize her because they all knew quite well that she hated the frills that were stereotypically associated with girls, including skirts and dresses. So they wouldn't ever expect her to actually wear something like that.

Then again, if she could time this right, she wouldn't get caught, even if she were stealthily sneaking up behind her father to somehow attach a camera to him. Sharon snorted as a thought occurred to her; maybe she should just wait until he was free, pretend to visit him, hug him in greeting, and then stick the camera on then.

But of course she couldn't because for one, she'd probably startle her father badly (he wasn't expecting to see her) and two, she didn't know if the camera would be running or not, and she didn't need to blow that aspect of her cover.

"All right, here we are," Rogers said as he carefully eased the car into the line of vehicles that were pulling up alongside the curb in front of the massive government center. Sharon watched in silence as the other cars paused long enough to either pick up or drop off important looking passengers. "Here, hold onto this," Rogers said, reclaiming her wandering attention. She accepted the small camera from him as he said, "It won't activate until you press this button here, and I suggest not doing that until right you put the camera on him; you don't want to turn it off by accident."

"Any recommended locations to put it?"

"Back of the right hand, it's his dominant hand," Rogers said, gesturing to the file that lay open between them. "Like I said earlier, the techs told me that the camera's linked with the computer so once it starts rolling, I'll know to come pick you up."

Sharon frowned at the camera. "What if the, ah, target doesn't meet with any Hydra while we're observing him?"

"The camera will keep transmitting even after we finish here. So the techs can keep observing after we leave here. Once we identify his contacts, we'll have enough evidence for his arrest." Rogers's jaw seemed clenched as he pulled up to the drop-off area. "Trust me when I say that he will make contact sooner or later; Hydra likes to keep their soldiers in line, especially with how terrible the organization has been doing lately."

Sharon nodded reluctantly, closed a fist around the camera, and then grabbed the folder of useless printed information. Stepping out of the cool car interior, she started walking up the stone steps of the government building. Wishing she'd brought sunglasses, she ignored the other people walking around her and then finally stepped into the cold atmosphere of the government center.

And, since the camera was off, she could be Sharon Carter once more and not Agent Thirteen.

"Hey Erwin!" she called out casually as she walked up to the security guard in question. He was sitting complacently at his station.

Erwin jumped, but grinned when he saw her. "Carter! Where the hell have you been? I missed you, short-stuff, he said, ruffling her hair playfully as she grinned. "Here to visit Dad?"

"Yeah, I wanted to surprise him because I happened to be in the area for a couple of job interviews," she said, gesturing to her outfit.

Erwin's face fell. "Army career didn't pan out?"

Sharon shook her head. "I didn't qualify, medical reasons," she explained, shrugging. She hoped Erwin wouldn't ask for an explanation; she would have to come up with something believable for her and her father when he asked (because there really was no way that this conversation wouldn't make it to her father eventually, he and Erwin were friends after all).

Erwin didn't ask, to her relief. Instead, he shrugged and said, "Well, gotta play it safe in the work force, you know?" He leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm not going to frisk you because I trust you, but I will ask you this: do you have any knives, firearms, or anything that could remotely classify as a weapon anywhere on your person?" he asked, his face sobering as his eyes met hers in a steady gaze.

"No, sir," Sharon answered honestly; she didn't have any weapons on her person. Just a little camera.

Erwin smiled, and waved her through. "Tell your father I said hello!" he called over his shoulder as Sharon walked away.

Oh, don't worry, I will, Sharon thought gloomily as she began the slow ascent to the fourth floor, where she knew her father's office was. She still…hadn't decided over whether to tell him or not about her own duplicity. Rogers's words clashed with her bias of her father, the one man she learned to love and trust unconditionally as a daughter would. She did want to tell her father about the accusations, but at the same time, she wanted to prove herself to Fury. Besides, there was always the possibility that Fury was actually telling the truth, and she was just deluding herself in the hopes that her father really wasn't involved.

She wished that for once, she didn't know where her father's office was so she could kill some time looking for it. She checked her watch; it was only ten after eleven, and according to her father's schedule, he wasn't going to be back to his office until eleven-thirty. Maybe she could sneak downstairs to the food court or something for some breakfast or lunch or whatever the hell was being served at this time of the day…

"Sharon?"

Sharon jumped and whirled around, half-expecting to see Captain Rogers. Instead, to her pleasant surprise, her father stood there, looking pleased yet a little confused. "Dad!" she said, smiling broadly while stuffing the camera into her skirt pocket, she wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Harrison smiled as he held his hands out to accept her enthusiastic hug. "Hey there, sweetheart. What brings you here?"

She grimaced, opened her mouth to reply, panicked at the last minute, and then quickly changed her answer. "I'm hiding; there was a Hydra agent in downtown earlier this morning and I got separated from my mission partner when we were trying to evade the enemy agent," she explained, silently willing her heart to stop pounding so much from the slowly-dying adrenaline rush.

Harrison nodded sagely and gestured for her to walk with him. His blond hair now had a few silver streaks in it, and she leaned against him in comfort. "I…I thought you were going to be out of town today," she said, remembering their phone conversation from the night before. She was also mindful not to point out that he was out of his meetings early for the day, especially that had come from a schedule that she was technically supposed to have seen.

"Well," Harrison said, catching Sharon's attention, "I was supposed to head up to New York today and meet someone for lunch, but he called late last night and pushed our appointment off to Monday, same time. Then a meeting I had today got shortened, which was when I found you in the hall." He sighed, but smiled when Sharon reached for his right hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Hey, Fury's letting me off for three days after today, so I can come home and hang out with you all," Sharon said, wary now that the camera was now out and running. As her father unlocked his office door, she carefully studied the back of his right hand, searching for the telltale sign that the camera was there. Then she could start making her excuses to leave.

There was nothing.

Wait, where is the camera?

Sharon silently reviewed the last few minutes in her heads as she sat down in the closest chair on her side of her father's desk. After thinking it over, she looked down at the palm of her left hand, praying that she didn't just create extra work for herself.

She did. The camera was sticking the center of her palm. Resisting the urge to palm her forehead in frustration, she half-listened to her father talk about home and family life. As ever, he was careful when talking about Peggy, calling her 'Maggie' instead as he usually did whenever they were outside the house. She managed to pry the camera off of her hand and looked back up just as Harrison sat back down in his chair across the desk from her. "So, not to kick you out or anything, but when is your mission partner expecting you back?" he asked conversationally, unaware that she'd been tuning him out in an effort to fix a mistake she'd made.

This was her chance. "Shoot, what time is it?" she asked, abruptly standing up again.

"Eleven-thirty." Harrison looked faintly amused.

"Damn…I have to be at our rendezvous point in thirty minutes." Sharon hesitated, and then reached over to squeeze her father's hand comfortingly. "Everything will be all right. I'll be able to help out once I get back."

Harrison smiled softly, blue eyes softening. "Very well. Be careful, and stay safe."

Sharon smiled once before turning on her heel and leaving.

The small camera, now firmly attached to the back of Harrison's hand, continued to record everything it saw and heard as it had been doing for the last two hours.

A/N: The school year ended recently, so the last couple of weeks in April were full of me trying to pack up and move out. Next chapter though may come sooner than usual, mostly because I'm out of school now. Huge thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited/alerted this story; I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far.