Dottie wakes up with a massive headache and a sore stomach. She also wakes up handcuffed to a cot. They've even tied her feet down. "How original," she remarks to nobody in particular.

"You're awake," Sousa says flatly.

She turns to look at him, ignoring her throbbing head. Jack Thompson, she remembers, was afraid of her. She unnerved Vernon Masters. She doesn't sense any fear from Daniel Sousa—instead, he radiates anger. His expression is tightly controlled and his voice is even, but he's digging his nails into the handgrip of his crutch. Dottie has known other men like this; calm and contained on the surface but boiling underneath. Men—so transparent, so easy. She's never met a man who was a worthy opponent.

"You SSR boys sure like tying a girl down, don't you?" she asks, giving him her best ditzy smile.

"Consider it a necessary precaution."

"So she escaped?" Dottie hazards a guess. She's rewarded by the flicker of surprise on his face.

"Your…colleagues…are being interrogated as we speak," Sousa answers.

Liar. "I see. And while my colleagues—as you call them—are being questioned, you've been sitting here waiting for me to wake up?"

He doesn't say anything, so Dottie continues. "Those two men were just there for backup. I'm sure you've already realized by now that they don't know anything useful. You want her."

Sousa leans forward. "Who is she? Do you know her?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'd like to know. And I'm happy to share this information with you, provided you agree the terms I gave you earlier. Before Peggy tried to punch me in the head. Or you can waste both my time and yours by threatening me with pliers and sticks, like your coworkers. Does that sound fun?"

Peggy opens the door and sticks her head in. "Daniel—may I have a word?"

Dottie grins. "Hi, Peggy."

Sousa looks ready to strangle her. Instead, he shakes his head and follows Peggy out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door closes, Dottie sits up as far as she can, testing the tightness of her handcuffs. A wave of nausea passes over her and she nearly heaves. She eases back down and takes a closer look at her surroundings. This must be the SSR, certainly, but she's not in a cell. Instead, it looks more like a large costume closet. Wire hangers, scarves, zippers, wooden dowels. Plenty of useful tools.

Peggy and Sousa come back in the room. "Your friend Gerard Brown is dead," Peggy says. "He took poison instead of talking to me. It was not pleasant. But, as you said, I was able to recover some of the items he stole."

"I don't like it at all, but we are prepared to work with you," Sousa continues. "If you tell us everything you know about what the Soviets have planned for Whitney Frost, help us find the rest of the evidence Brown took, and track down your missing colleague—we will arrange your release, on the condition you leave the United States immediately and never come back."

"I see you're not making this deal in official SSR capacity," Dottie points out. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation inside a closet."

Peggy crosses her arms. "The official SSR deal is that we escort you immediately to the nearest cell and leave you there to be interrogated at our leisure."

"Don't worry; I'll work with you, Peggy. That sounds much more exciting." She knows their offer is a lie. If they have their way, they will let her do the work for them and then escort her back to a cell—unless she gives them the slip first. She's done it before.

"Excellent. One last thing," Peggy says, clasping a bracelet around Dottie's wrist.

"Another tracking device?"

"Very good. This is a prototype from Howard Stark, improved from the previous version. It contains a miniaturized bomb. Only god knows what Howard was thinking when he invented this. It won't blow up a building, but it's powerful enough to cause a lot of damage at close range. This means you'll most likely blow your arm off if you try to remove it. And I've got the remote." Peggy unlocks the handcuffs.

"Lovely," Dottie says, standing up carefully to avoid ripping her stitches again. She rifles through the racks of clothing and pockets a few useful items as she goes, until she finds what she's looking for. She pulls the lab coat off the hanger and tries it on. "I can't pull off this look nearly as well as you can, Peggy. You make an awfully cute doctor."

"What are you doing?" Sousa asks. "We don't have time for dress up."

"I'm not officially here, remember? Unless you want to explain to your fellow agents why you're walking around the SSR with a Soviet operative," Dottie says, hunting for a suitable wig. "Now let's go pay Whitney Frost another visit."

"We're not going to get anything out of Whitney Frost," Sousa says as he limps along behind Peggy and Dottie. "Since she woke up, she hasn't done anything except sit there and talk to herself."

"Have a little faith, Chief," Dottie says. She's busy memorizing the layout of the SSR building and noting all the best entry and exit points as they go.

"Have faith in who? You? Whitney Frost?"

"Here we are," Peggy says, stopping in front of the door to the holding cell. She relieves the agent standing guard outside with a nod.

"You're not coming in with us, Peggy," Dottie says.

Peggy gives her an incredulous look. "Of course I am."

"If she sees you again, she's going to react like she did the first time, and then we really won't get anywhere. Now give me the papers you recovered from Gerard Brown. She's going to tell us what they mean, since you're not inclined to believe anything I tell you." When Peggy hesitates, Dottie rolls her eyes. "I promise I won't lay a finger on Frost or your precious fiancé."

"I think she's right, Peg," Sousa sighs. "Give Samberly a call? We may need his services, unfortunately."

"Why are you siding with her?" Peggy asks, but she hands Sousa the files anyway. Her hand lingers over his for a moment.

"I'm not," he says. He leans in and kisses her.

Dottie clears her throat loudly and opens the door to the holding cell. Sousa and Peggy separate, looking sheepish. "Do you want some privacy? I can talk to Frost myself."

She goes in, Sousa trailing after her. Just as he said, Frost is off in the corner of the cell talking to herself and doesn't appear to register their presence.

"When Isodyne—and your government—first became interested in zero matter, it was primarily the spatial aspects they wanted to study. What is it made out of, how does it absorb other objects, and where do those objects go once absorbed?" Dottie explains to Sousa. "Oh, and they wanted to know how it could be weaponized. Typical. However, zero matter has such inconsistent properties and is so unpredictable that it's not yet been possible to create a weapon."

As Dottie speaks, she watches the other woman closely and is rewarded as Frost's muttering gradually dies out. She's listening. "The behavior of zero matter in space is fascinating, but your researchers have paid less attention to the temporal aspects. That's what our scientists are really interested in."

"The temporal aspects," Sousa repeats. "You don't mean—"

Whitney Frost suddenly stands up, grasping the bars of her cell and gazing at Dottie. "Objects that are taken up by zero matter are transformed not only in space, but in time," she says. Her voice quivers, but the smile on her face is utterly triumphant.