AN – just so you know, I was basically picturing Ben Whishaw as Q from the James Bond films when writing Peggy's brother. I figured she must have a brother since we see her niece Sharon Carter in CATWS and a sister would likely have taken her husbands name in the 40s.


The majority of the eight hour flight to England was spent in silence. While understanding the necessity for the mission, Peggy was infuriated at how it had come about and that Jack had pulled rank, passing over her views on the matter. She had been almost looking forward to returning to England but now the prospect of temporarily sharing her small, terraced house with him had soured her enthusiasm. The tiny, two bedroomed house she owned was situated in a village just outside of Bletchley; she had bought it with some money she had inherited from an aunt during the war and she had never sold it - even after being reassigned to the United States - thinking that she might perhaps return to live in England again someday.

She reluctantly had to agree that Jack had a point on insisting on coming, she thought to herself as they sat in silence. Since he had withheld information from other Agents due to the mole, he was the most knowledgeable on the whole case out of all of them and the best person to lead the mission despite being Chief.

That argument, however, had done nothing to assuage Angie's peals of laughter when she had stopped by the L&L Automat on her way back to the apartment to explain where she was going and who with.

After her comment back in his office that the two of them going together was not the best idea and his dismissal that the kiss had just been for the mission she had suddenly wondered if she was the one making an issue of it. Jack had seemed tense, yes, but not troubled. Maybe he had scarcely thought of the kiss since it had happened, maybe he would have kissed any woman back like that.

The thought had her frowning, uncertain as to why she was disturbed about this. She shook her head slightly in an attempt to clear it of confusion – if they were going to be working and living together for the next few days she would have to get her head on straight.

They were using the SSR's plane, the same one they had taken to Russia, though it felt unusual to be sitting on the benches opposite one another in their normal civilian clothes as opposed to combat gear. Their bags were stowed to one side and both of them were looking out of different windows to the darkness outside, Jack with one foot propped casually up on the bench. It was about two hours into the flight when Thompson spoke, breaking the silence.

"So why don't your family know about your job at the SSR?" he wanted to know.

Peggy coolly turned her gaze to him. "That's a rather bold assumption to make," she said, still annoyed at his heavy-handed methods of coordinating this mission, as well as her own lingering confusion.

He shrugged half-heartedly. "Seems obvious enough," he said, glancing her way. "You are determined not to mix family and business."

She paused, thinking of how much she was willing to tell him about her personal life before replying. "My father and brother know. Benjy works in one of the labs at Bletchley so you'll probably meet him at some point – and I'll thank you not to call him a lab-rat or egg-head as you are wont to do with our own scientists," she added pointedly, having seen first-hand the distinct lack of respect he often showed the scientists and wondering what he and her brother would make of each other. "But my mother and sister are both of the belief that a woman's place is in the home. During the war my more active duties were seen as reasonably respectable, though they didn't even know a fifth of what I actually got up to. They thought I was working in a radio factory, if you'll believe it," she told him exasperatedly. She took a deep breath and raised her shoulders slightly before continuing. "But after the war finished, I was expected to settle down and conform. It is easier to lie and keep them happy, telling the truth would cause unnecessary tension."

Jack had listened in silence, watching her carefully from across the plane as she spoke. "You've got a big family," he observed neutrally.

"I do," she agreed, thinking of them as she spoke. She was looking forward to seeing them again but she was not oblivious to the fact that there would be tension. Her mother and sister in particular had never quite understood her reasons for staying in the United States - her mother would chide that she was nearly thirty and unmarried, while her sister would try yet again to set her up with a friend of her good-for-nothing husband, wanting nothing more than to have Peggy settled into a white-picket fence life next door to her and her own children, meanwhile her father would most likely keep out of the matter entirely and Benjy would find the whole thing terribly amusing. There was a few seconds of silence between them and then she remembered the photograph of his own family that she had seen on Jack's dresser, consisting of him, his parents and his grandparents. "You're an only child," she guessed, deciding to keep the conversation going instead of lapsing back into uncomfortable silence.

His mouth quirked into a very small smile. "Yeah."

"And what does your family think of your work?" she asked curiously, shifting on the bench so that she was facing him properly – it was a long flight, after all, they may as well have some conversation.

His lips thinned into a line and he glanced away. "They don't actually know details," he told her, shrugging slightly. "They just think I just work in law enforcement."

She nodded her understanding. With the kind of work they did it was all too easy to hide the truth, even from those you were close to - there were very few people in the world who she was truly open with. Had her brother not worked at Bletchley she doubted he would have been told the full story either, whereas her father was privy to the details since he had been reasonably high-ranking in the Navy during the war.

"How did you end up at the SSR?" she wanted to know, never quite having understood his motives for joining up. She knew that he had led campaigns and tactical missions, but in comparison to what had gone on in the war very little of the work the SSR did was actually in the combat field. He looked at her questioningly and she elaborated. "I read your war record; you were more of a soldier than a spy."

"Checking up on me, were you, Carter?" One corner of his mouth briefly hitched up into a smile, and then it abruptly dropped back to a frown. He heaved a sigh and shifted, removing the foot that was braced on the bench and facing her properly. "After I …" he grimaced bitterly and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, avoiding her eyes. "... won the Navy Cross," he said pointedly, his voice taking on a queer tone that she understood full well, knowing the story behind his medal. "They started to give me the lead on tactical missions, not just the heavy artillery stuff ... And I was good at it." He shrugged and then linked his hands together between his knees, glancing at her with his shoulders slightly hunched before turning his gaze to the floor. "I buried myself in it - you already know why," he said quietly with a vertical crease between his brows, referring to the story he had told her in this very plane all those weeks ago.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, still gazing downwards. "And then VE Day comes and they tell us the war's finished, but we both know that ain't true," he continued with heavy cynicism, then looked at her properly with his mouth pressed into a thin line as she listened. "... You're not alone in thinking the SSR is all you've got, I don't know what else I would do," he told her plainly, then shrugged once more, returning his gaze to the lightening sky outside the plane. "War's over for some, not for everyone … Not for us."


They landed at a small, country airfield about half an hours drive away from Bletchley. Jack had stretched out on one of the benches and tried to sleep a little on the plane but no rest had been forthcoming; his body-clock was still set to New York time and telling him that it was the early hours of the morning, but after the short conversation with Peggy in which he had talked about the Navy Cross and why he had joined the SSR he found that he couldn't relax.

The plane taxied towards a small hanger and eventually came to a halt. Peggy paused to speak to the pilot in the cockpit before they left and, leaving her to it, Jack hefted his combat bag over his shoulder and grabbed his case in his other hand, pushing the button to release the doors and lower the stairs with a closed fist. A car was waiting several yards away from the plane, with an unfamiliar young man leaning against the bonnet with his arms folded. He had a mop of unruly dark hair on his head, pale skin and wore black-rimmed glasses; he was wearing a brown cardigan over a white shirt and a narrow black tie.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" the man asked in a clipped British accent as he descended the stairs of the plane, furrowing his brows and frowning at him in confusion.

Jack paused, then continued his descent, assuming this person had been sent by the SSR to meet them. "Jack Thompson," he said simply as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

The man minutely raised his brows beneath his dark hair and slowly unfolded his arms to extend a hand towards him. "Benjamin Carter," he introduced in turn, making Jack blink in surprise at this unexpected meeting. "My friends call me Benjy."

"Peggy's brother," Jack said, automatically taking his hand to shake it and looking him up and down – he could see the resemblance, they had the same dark eyes and pale skin.

"That's me," he confirmed, keeping a firm grip on his hand. "Peg's told me about you."

"She has?" Jack asked in some surprise, unable to believe that she would mention him to her family.

"Yeah," Benjamin Carter replied in a pleasant voice, still grasping his hand tightly. "You're the guy who used to send her on coffee and food runs, who made her do all his filing, and then threw her under the bus when it came to taking credit for the Stark case."

His words hung pointedly in the air in the few seconds of silence that followed.

"Benjy, stop being such a wanker," Peggy said fondly from the top of the stairs, a wide, bright smile playing around her mouth as she descended. Her own combat bag was slung over her shoulder, incongruous next to her skirt, blouse and feminine suitcase.

Benjamin grinned and finally dropped his hand, making Jack flex his fingers slightly – they still ached from interrogating Gascone the other day and the death-grip he had just endured hadn't helped. "Just wanted to yank on the Yanks chain," he said jovially, pulling his sister into a tight hug as she reached them. "Good to see you."

"You too," Peggy said, smiling hugely at him. "I didn't realise you were coming to pick us up."

"And I didn't realise that you were bringing company," he retorted pointedly, releasing her from the hug and glancing at Jack once more.

"Jack Thompson, Chief of the NY branch of the SSR; Jack, Dr Benjamin Carter," she introduced, waving a hand vaguely between them even though they had already introduced themselves. "Our prime suspect in the Zodiac case has fled to England so it won't all be tea and chats with Phillips."

Benjy's mouth quirked slightly. "Speaking of Philips, he was jumping for joy when you linked Levourne to Zodiac. And by jumping for joy I mean that his face almost contorted into a smile … Almost," he clarified dryly. His gaze then drifted over to Jack again. "Still, his presence complicates things some," he added musingly, his tone mild.

Peggy frowned at him suspiciously. "Complicates things how?"

"How long are you here for?" he wanted to know, neglecting to answer her question in favour of asking his own as they headed towards the car; Jack wordlessly listened to the two siblings easy conversation, intrigued by this new facet of Peggy Carter he was seeing.

"I'm not sure. It depends how quickly we can track Levourne," she rattled off, then returned to her original question. "How is it complicated?"

He scratched the back of his head almost awkwardly. "Well, as far as half the family is concerned you're not here to … do espionage," he explained as they loaded their bags into the trunk – not all of them fit, so their combat gear would be going in the back seat. "They're going to want to know why you have a man in tow."

"I don't see the issue. There is absolutely no reason for them to know that Jack is here," she said firmly, slamming the trunk closed and heading for the front seat.

"I think you underestimate Lottie's ability to sniff out gossip," Benjy retorted dryly and then glanced at Jack from over the roof of the car, who had been following their conversation with bemused interest. "Lottie is our sister," he explained casually, then jerked his chin at Peggy as she climbed into the front seat. "Imagine Peggy in floral dresses and pastel blouses, with a three year old attached to her skirt, a one year old on her hip and a new bump showing beneath an apron - that's Lottie."

Jack couldn't help a small smile at the foreign-sounding image. "Sounds terrifying," he replied over the roof of the car. He was still slightly unsure of what to make of Peggy's brother - he seemed mild-mannered, jovial and friendly, but his hand was also still slightly aching from that handshake.

"Terrifying is right," Benjy agreed, and they both got in the car, with Jack somewhat cramped in the back with their two large combat bags. "Anyway, when she found out you were staying in your place near Bletchley she went on about how it would need cleaning and airing first. That woman is a domestic machine; you may have only called to say you were coming yesterday, but thanks to her the house is habitable and there is food in the cupboards. You're bloody lucky I was able to stop her from surprising you with a home-cooked family meal as well when you arrived - I told her your flight doesn't get in until tonight," he told them, making Peggy visibly widen her eyes at that particular escape as he started the engine. "You won't be able to stall her forever."

"I know, I'll make time to see her at some point," she replied, not sounding particularly enthusiastic at the idea – he wondered if it was because her sister didn't know about her work, or if there was another reason as well. He hadn't known that she had another sibling until she had mentioned her sister on the plane and the two of them certainly sounded different as chalk and cheese. "The mission takes priority though."

He nodded. "I thought as much. Phillips wants to see you as soon as possible, I'm under orders to take you straight back to base." Benjy suddenly frowned into the rear view mirror at Jack as he pulled smoothly out of the airfield. "I've just thought, the safehouse is in use for the Dunne-Lewis case – where are you staying?" he asked into the mirror instead of turning around.

"He is at the house with me," Peggy said stonily before he could respond, keeping her gaze straight ahead, evidently still irked at their coming living situation for the mission. There was a brief pause, then Benjy slowly swung his head to stare at her. "Not one word," she added sternly, reading his silence.

"I wasn't going to say a thing," he said wisely with a small, undeniably amused smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he returned his gaze to the road.


Daniel pushed open the door to the interrogation room and paused when he saw Arnim Zola sitting in the chair, the prison guards having bought him over that morning. He didn't know what he had expected from one of HYDRA's most notorious scientists, but this small, crumpled little man in a plain grey prison smock and round, thin wire spectacles was not it.

"Doctor Zola, good morning. I am Agent Sousa," he said, limping into the room and putting a cup of coffee, milk and sugar packets in front of Zola. He made a point of being pleasant; this wasn't supposed to be an interrogation after all. He gestured towards the coffee as he sat down, resting his crutch against the table. "I didn't know how you take it, so there's cream and sugar."

"I do not drink coffee," the scientist said simply, his mild and accented voice sounding unimpressed as he looked up at him with his head tilted to one side. "I dislike the taste."

Daniel raised a brow and shrugged slightly. "Alright, let's get started then," he said, opening the file on Zodiac Thompson had given him before leaving for England. "I want you to tell me what you know about Zodiac."

Zola didn't reply, watching him carefully through his spectacles. "We know that they are a team of scientists and we know that they are trying to perfect the Super Soldier Serum," Daniel added, hoping that this would encourage him to talk: if they already knew things he might not feel like he was divulging secrets and be more cooperative.

Zola surprised him by smiling slightly. "The fools," he said simply, still smiling softly. "The serum is already perfected."

Daniel shook his head. "I wasn't talking about Erskine's formula."

"Neither was I," Zola countered, looking amused and satisfied, like he knew something they didn't – Daniel blinked in response, staring at him. Zola had been in prison since before the destruction of HYDRA, did that mean that they had perfected the serum before Schmidt's death? Were there other men out there, working for HYDRA, with Super Soldier abilities?

Before he could work through all of the implications in his head, Zola spoke again. "I do not want to be in a prison, Herr Sousa," he said in a slow, pointed and mild voice, his Swiss accent creating strange inflections as he spoke.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have cast your lot in with HYDRA," he retorted; he was under orders to get whatever information he could out of Zola, but not to make a deal – it had been one of Peggy's conditions to agreeing with Jack's suggestion to question him.

"I was living in Europe during the Reich. Had I been lucky enough to be born in America I would probably be working for your SSR," the little scientist said, then leant slightly across the table towards him, as far as his cuffed hands would allow. "I serve science, not HYDRA, and I want to be able to put my mind to use once more."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm not making a deal with you, Zola," he said firmly.

Zola smiled again; he was watching him carefully, his eyes sharp behind the cheap spectacles. "Not even if I could tell you precise coordinates of where Zodiac is likely based?" he offered, dangling an impressive lure in front of them.

"Not even then," he replied, wondering if he even had such information.

"Well ..." the doctor said slowly, still sounding satisfied as he sat back in his seat and pointedly lifted his hands, which were still cuffed to the table. "You know where to find me when you start hitting dead ends."


The famous Bletchley base was a large, ornate house set into spacious grounds and guarded by security. They were stopped at the gate and showed their SSR badges to pass; after a brief, cursory inspection in the trunk of the car and their combat gear, they were waved through the gates. They parked up and, leaving their cases and combat gear in the car, headed into the house through the main entrance. The interior was as ornate as the outside and Jack couldn't help but raise an eyebrow; were it not for the security outside and Bletchley's reputation, he would not have thought it was the home of a covert base and code-breaking operations.

They descended a staircase so that they were beneath the building, went through a set of double doors and suddenly everything started to look more familiar – there were labs to one side of the corridor, whereupon Peggy's brother left them to continue on alone, and she led him to a medium sized office room with Agents milling around, containing desks, typewriters and large pin-boards covered in pictures, maps and bits of string linking relevant points together.

There was a man at the far end of the rows of desks looking at one of the boards with a deep frown affixed to his face. He was wearing a very dark grey suit, but the neatness of his clothing and hair, as well as his commanding presence, spoke of the military. "Colonel Phillips," Peggy said as they approached, and he turned towards them, revealing a tanned and weathered face set with stern, heavy lines. They stopped in front of him and she saluted, probably out of habit since the SSR was no longer technically a military operation after the war, before making the introductions once again. "Jack Thompson, Chief of our New York branch; Thompson, Colonel Chester Phillips, Director of the SSR," she said simply.

Jack automatically held his hand out to shake, but Phillips ignored it. "As I understand it, you came into your position rather suddenly after the death of Chief Dooley," he said simply in an American accent that seemed incongruous over in England, giving Jack a look that was distinctly unimpressed. "I looked into your war record when you were promoted. Decorated soldier, campaigns in Iwo Jima, Okinawa and Germany. The story of how you obtained your Navy Cross was particularly distinguishing," he said with a penetrating stare, then one brow rose minutely on his weathered forehead "Of course it would have been more impressive if you hadn't fallen asleep on a night-shift in the first place."

Jack closed his outstretched hand into a fist as he lowered it, digging his short nails into his palm. "I am well aware of that, sir," he said, keeping the biting tone out of his voice.

"Agents Newman, Smith and Wood are assigned to the Zodiac case," Phillips continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You two can liaise with them, I want action plans on my desk by the end of the day." His penetrating gaze turned to Peggy. "We'll speak then," he added pointedly, and she nodded in response.

Phillips turned and headed into his office without another word; Jack exhaled a breath. "A man of few words, isn't he?" he said sardonically as the door closed behind him, sticking his hands into his trouser pockets. He felt slightly wrong-footed, not accustomed to being spoken to like that – when Dooley had been Chief he had been a friend as well as his boss. As Director, Phillips outranked him as just being a Chief of a branch; he felt like an underling for the first time in a long while and didn't like it, used to being in command.

"That's just his way," Peggy said, still looking after him as well. "Come on," she added, then turned to go and find the other Agents on the case.

For the next several hours, despite not having slept the night before or pausing since getting off the plane, Jack and Peggy coordinated with the Agents that were assigned to the Zodiac case. Peggy had been greeted by smiles and handshakes by the team, having worked with many of them before during the war, then they were quick to get to work. The British division of the SSR had already been looking into the team with little success due to their codenames and anonymity, but their discovery of Levourne's involvement had been something of a game changer.

Levourne had made his fortune in highly disreputable, though legally untraceable ways: he would sink thousands, even millions of dollars into various investments across a wide spectrum, and then any rival businesses or opponents would be met with accidents or bad luck, sending his own stocks higher and putting money back in his pocket.

Knowing that he was involved gave them something of a trail to now follow – they put together an action plan focusing on any of Levourne's investments or companies that could be relevant to the serum, anything from medical labs, to refineries, even mines, with several of the egg-heads, including Peggy's brother, helping to narrow their options by talking about lab-specs and what little they knew of the mechanics behind the serum.

Knowing that Zodiac likely had other labs set up besides than the one they had found in New Jersey, Jack had also suggested that they look into the opponents – some of them had been bought out when they started to go under, whereas others had been bankrupt completely. He argued that his meant there were potentially abandoned buildings, rival medical labs, factories, warehouses or refineries, that were now unused and perfect for setting up a lab.

It was well after seven o'clock in the evening that Peggy took their finished action plans through to Phillips, closing the door behind her. Many of the other Agents had already clocked out, with the night-shift taking over. Jack took the time to call the office in New York to find out how Sousa had got on with Zola and then sat on an empty desk with his arms folded to wait for Peggy.

"Thompson," her brother called from the door that led to the labs, coming in to speak to him. "Let's grab a drink."

"You're not exactly my type, pal," Jack countered, glancing at him and then returning his gaze to the door that lead to Phillips office.

"Really, you don't go for dark haired, smart-mouthed Brits then?" Benjamin Carter said with a slow grin, making Jack shoot a look in his direction. "Coulda fooled me," he added. There was a pause during which Jack frowned, a crease appearing on his forehead as he wondered how his feelings for her had been so easily seen. Benjamin chuckled at his scowl. "Come on, Thompson, pub's calling," he said easily, then nodded towards the closed door. "She'll know where to find us when she's done."


Peggy spent well over half an hour with Phillips going over their plans for the Zodiac case. In general he approved their ideas, especially Jack's suggestion to look into the opponents abandoned premises, but he wanted them to widen their parameters to include Europe as well. She was inclined to agree, Levourne had picked Dover for a reason – he could have crossed the Channel to France on a non-commercial boat and be in the wind with nary a trail for them to follow.

Their meeting wound down and the conversation turned. "I assume Stark has already briefed you about our idea for a global intelligence organisation," he said to her rhetorically as she packed the papers on Zodiac into a file.

"He has," she confirmed.

Phillips sat down behind his desk, staring up at her. "Your reports on Leviathan are disturbing, particularly if they are government led," he said in his steady American drawl, his face set into heavy lines. "The Soviets are growing restless, pushing boundaries after the war. We need to share our intelligence and we will need a response team. I'm expecting Stark to arrive next week, negotiations will start in earnest then. In the meantime you can concern yourself with Zodiac."

She nodded her understanding. "Yes sir."

He opened a folder that he had on his desk, glancing down at it. "You wrote in your report of the mission you took in Russia that Agent Thompson suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder," he said disapprovingly, looking back at her with the question evident in his voice.

"That report was written as an account of a single mission," Peggy replied firmly, knowing what he was getting at. "It was not intended as an assessment of Chief Thompson," she added, placing very slight emphasis on the honorific Chief.

"Nevertheless, you're asking me to put a foreign Agent into my field when he could be a liability," Phillips retorted in his usual blunt manner, sounding unimpressed and unconvinced.

"I can assure you, I can vouch for Thompson's competence," she told him, surprising herself by standing up for him; he was good at his job, after all, and he had proved himself with the Leviathan and Zodiac case so far. "He is a decent Agent and I have faith in him."

The lines on Phillips's forehead deepened as his brows rose. "Faith again, is it, Agent Carter?"

Peggy scowled fiercely, realising belatedly what she had said and how Phillips had interpreted her words. "Don't you start, Chester," she ordered firmly, their long-standing working relationship giving her the authority to talk back to him. "I've already had to deal with this from Benjy."

"Dr Carter has a good nose," Phillips pointed out in a drawling voice, leaning back in his chair and sounding almost amused.

"He is also my brother and it is a sibling's prerogative to tease," Peggy retorted, then primly picked up the remaining files to leave. "I expect a professional attitude from you."

"Agent Carter," he said as she reached the door, making her pause and look over her shoulder at him. His thin lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smile. "It's good to have you back."


Benjamin Carter had led him to a small pub just outside the grounds of Bletchley Park. It was rather dark and quaint inside, nothing like the swanky bars with their dark wood and green glassed bankers' lamps that he occasionally frequented back in New York. There were only a small handful of people sitting on the rickety looking chairs and the pub contained a pool table, dart board and small area that could perhaps be used for dancing. The two of them sat at the bar, where the bartender greeted Benjy by name, offering him his usual, which turned out to be a dark, stout beer, before taking Jack's order of a whiskey.

He sipped his drink, holding the liquor in his mouth for a long moment to savour the taste before swallowing. "Mm, not a bad scotch," he allowed, feeling the burn in his throat.

"You heathens have converted Peg to that rubbish you call bourbon. Say what you like, it isn't the same," Benjy said in his dry, clipped British accent. Jack silently had to agree that he could taste the difference: American's may do bourbon well, but the Scots did whiskey better and you couldn't get the decent stuff in New York without paying an arm or a leg for it. "Dad always sends her a bottle of scotch for her birthday though."

"I'm sure she appreciates it," he agreed without looking at him, feeling like they were making small talk.

There was a pause and he could feel Peggy's brother looking at him. "I quite like you, Jack, so I'm just going to ask you this once," he said mildly and Jack braced himself for whatever was coming – Bnejy had worked with them for half of the afternoon, plenty of time to form an opinion of him. "What's going on between you and my sister?"

"We're colleagues," he replied dully, still looking down at the amber liquid in his glass.

"Bollocks," Benjy said succinctly, making Jack shoot a swift glance in his direction. The Brit shrugged one shoulder and reached for his beer. "I think that's a load of bollocks," he elaborated mildly, blinking at him.

"Is this supposed to be an interrogation?" Jack asked, taking a swig of his drink – after that damn kiss (compartmentalise, Thompson, he reminded himself) he was in no mood to discuss his non-existent relationship with Peggy, certainly not with her brother.

"I suppose so," Benjy acknowledged, then pulled a faux, slightly embarrassed face before admitting, "Not exactly my forte though."

"Well then, I'll make it easy for you and I won't lie. I do have feelings for her, I think any red-blooded male between the ages of nine and ninety would have to be blind or an idiot not to," he admitted with sardonic bluntness, then returned his gaze to his whiskey glass once again, tilting it so the liquid swirled once – it wasn't exactly a secret after all, Benjamin Carter had managed to suss it out scant hours after they had landed on British soil - hell, he had probably pinned him down before he had even got in his car after getting off the plane. "Satisfied?

"Yeah," Carter said with another slight shrug, seemingly having no desire to press the issue further. Jack glanced at him in surprise, having been half expecting some kind of warning or threat; seeing his look, Benjy elaborated. "I know my sister well. This is the first time I have seen her since the war finished and I've got to say was surprised to see her happy," he said, making Jack blink once. "It was easy to tell from phone conversations and letters that she was pretty dissatisfied, both in her personal life and her professional one where the people she worked with neither respected her nor listened to her simply because she was born female," Benjy paused and took a sip of his beer before continuing. "So know that I mean this as a compliment when I say that you are not what Peggy led me to believe one of her colleague would be like – especially not the one that she complained about so much."

There was a brief silence. "Thanks, I guess," Jack said eventually, wondering just how much Peggy had complained about them all back before they had known what she was capable of.

Carter clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll buy you another round," he offered, no doubt noticing that Jack had already nearly drained a double.

"This ones on me," he replied, reaching into his jacket for his wallet and holding up a note between two fingers to get the bartenders attention (currency for nearly every country was kept in a safe in his office back in New York and he had traded dollars for British Sterling before going back to his apartment to pack for the mission). He brought them both another round of drinks even though Benjy was barely half way through his first pint and resolved to nurse this one. He couldn't help but feel like they had come to some kind of silent understanding after that brief conversation, though what that understanding was he couldn't say.

Jack nodded his head towards the empty pool table. "Do you play?" he asked.

Benjy followed his gaze. "I could go for a few games, I'll even teach you Bletchley Rules," he said, getting to his feet. "Don't let Peggy play though."

"Why not?" Jack wanted to know as they headed towards the table.

There was a pause, then Carter grinned widely at him. "Because she's rubbish."


It was perhaps twenty minutes later that Peggy pushed open the door to the Dog and Duck pub, knowing full well that was most likely where Benjy had taken Jack. Sure enough, the two of them were in the corner playing pool. Benjy was standing with his cue to one side, while Thompson had taken off his jacket and was leaning over the table to take a shot in just his shirt, tie and suspenders – as he did so he glanced up, made eye contact with her, and paused. She smiled briefly at him and he took the shot, potting a ball.

Leaving them to it, she removed her jacket and went to sit down on the chairs closest to the pool table.

Jack won by one ball and Benjy obligingly went to the bar to get the consolatory drinks. "I see you've been taught Bletchley Rules," she observed with a small smile as Jack came to stand with her – Bletchley Rules was a long-standing tradition among those at the base while playing pool in this pub: if both opponents were down to the black then the loser bought a drink for the winner; if they lost by one ball it was a drink for the winner and one other person of their choice; two balls, a drink for them and two other people, and so on and so forth.

"Not a bad system," he agreed, then cast a glance in her direction as he chalked his cue. "Did you need some pointers?" he offered, jerking his chin towards the table.

Peggy blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, not quite understanding.

"Your brother said you're bad at this," Thompson clarified, nodding to where Benjy was leaning on the bar, ordering their drinks. He half-gestured, half-pointed towards the table and continued in a marginally condescending drawl. "Come on, I'll give you a lesson."

"... By all means," she agreed with a slow smile at his arrogance, rising gracefully to her feet. "Rack them up."

He walked around the table to collect the balls from the nets and started to set up the game. "How did it go with Phillips?" he asked as he did so.

"He approves of the action plans though he thinks we should widen our parameters," Peggy reported, watching him. His dark blond hair was messier than usual, she noticed – no doubt due to the all-nighter they had pulled flying to England and then getting straight to work. "I am inclined to agree, Levourne picked Dover for a reason. He can cross the Channel easily from there and be anywhere in Europe without being easily traced."

Jack half nodded. "Half his investments are in England though, he's got ties here," he pointed out, arranging the balls on the table into a triangle.

"Yes and it's definitely worth investigating here," she said, picking up the cue that Benjy had been using and chalking it. "I'm not suggesting we should change our plan, but Levourne is only one man and from what we've heard Zodiac is headed by a team of twelve."

"And we already know they are operating in America, just because Levourne fled across the pond doesn't mean there's nothing back home," Jack agreed, frowning slightly at the thought.

"I trust Daniel to man the wheel in the states," she said, confident in his abilities. "Did he question Zola?" she added, wishing that she could have questioned him herself despite her desire not to have anything to do with the HYDRA scientist.

"Yeah," Jack told her, finishing up with the table and placing the cue-ball in the starting position. "He claims that he has coordinates for a possible Zodiac base but he wants out of prison in return."

Peggy instantly shook her head. "I don't trust him," she said firmly, not willing to compromise on this. Too many people had died because of that man and she wasn't going to see him out of prison just to cut some corners. "I say we don't go down that road unless it becomes one hundred percent necessary."

"Agreed," Jack said, then nodded down at the pool table. "Did you want to break?" he offered magnanimously.

"And here I thought you were showing me how it's done," she reminded him, tilting her head to one side and fighting a small smile once more.

"Pay attention then," he ordered superiorly, then leant over the table. She couldn't help but notice the movement of his muscles beneath the material of his white shirt as he lined up his shot with the cue-ball, a frown of concentration on his face. He took his shot, scattering the balls and sinking one, then straightened up to glance at her. "Right, it's real simple -" he started to say, but she overrode him.

"I assure you, I think have grasped the concept," she said primly, then leant over the table to take her own shot – she instantly sunk a ball.

"Not bad," Jack said, sounding impressed. "When you pot a ball you get another shot -" he started to say, but cut himself off as she wordlessly sunk another.

For the next minute or so she worked her way around the table, steadily potting her five remaining balls. She sunk the black as well and then turned and blinked at Jack, who was standing watching with his lips pressed together and a crease between his brows. "You were saying?" she asked innocently, hiding her smug satisfaction, and he slowly shook his head, evidently well aware that he had just been played.

"I did tell you not to let her play," Benjy said amusedly, standing to one side and watching the proceedings with a whiskey in either hand, the drinks he'd had to buy for losing the last game. He then glanced around the pub. "You're lucky the bar's reasonably empty."

"Why's that?" Jack wanted to know, leaning his weight on his cue.

Benjy grinned at him. "'Cause on a six-ball lose you're buying a round for everyone in here."


The three of them left the pub shortly after Jack had bought his round and Benjy drove them to a village that was just large enough to have its own pub and a small grocers shop, about twenty minutes away from Bletchley. Being summertime, it was only just approaching dusk and Jack looked curiously out at the passing countryside as they drove, crammed in the back with their combat gear once again. The greenery and fields reminded him a little of the area up-state where his grandmother still lived, though England was flatter, greener and more pastoral. Once they were in the sleepy village, Benjy pulled up in front of a row of tiny, grey-stone terraced houses with small gardens.

The one at the far end had a red door and the garden was not as well maintained as the others, but Peggy got out of the car and looked up at it with a slightly fond expression on her face.

Benjy helped them with getting their bags out of the car but didn't come in, saying that he needed to head home. He hugged Peggy goodbye and shook Jack's hand, adding that he would see them at the office tomorrow.

Peggy unlocked the door and the two of them hefted their cases and combat bags and headed over the threshold. Jack glanced around in interest – the house was pretty small, the downstairs area consisting of a narrow hallway, a cramped living room and a kitchen containing a small dining table with four seats. There was a slight air of neglect even though the house was spotlessly clean and there was a small bouquet of hand-picked flowers in a vase on the table, with a note alongside it that he couldn't make out.

"Nice place," he said honestly – it may be small and pokey, but it had more character than his own tiny, one bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of an unremarkable building.

"Thank you," she replied, picking up the note with her free hand to read it. "I haven't been back here in nearly a year. I'm actually glad that Lottie came by, I can only imagine how dusty it would have been."

"So I was wondering -" he started to say, and then cut himself off when he saw her frowning down at the paper. He wanted to ask what the deal was between her and her sister since there seemed to be some kind of tension there, but then thought that it might be too personal a question. "- What happens if you lose by all seven balls?" he said, changing his question half way through asking.

Peggy glanced up at him and smiled slightly. "If you'd lost by all seven you would currently be wearing no clothes."

He lowered his chin and raised an eyebrow at her. "On a first date, Carter? Didn't think you were that kinda girl."

"It's the reason Benjy doesn't let me play anymore," she told him, ignoring his comment. She was still smiling slightly, her eyes bright with humour. "He and some of the cryptographers once had to walk back to the huts, through security, stark naked with only their security badges."

"Good thing I potted one then," Jack said as they lingered in the kitchen with the table between them and their cases on the floor.

"Why do you think I let you go first?" she retorted smugly, evidently still pleased with herself.

Jack couldn't help a small smile of his own – once again he had underestimated Peggy Carter and she had proved him wrong, with the only cost being his pride and a slight dint in his wallet. "When we're back in New York you'll have to come out with me and the guys, you could hustle free drinks the whole night," he offered lightly, sticking one hand in his trouser pocket.

Peggy's smiled brightened slightly. "I'll hold you to that," she promised.

Jack blinked – would that count as a date? he wondered briefly, and the silence stretched out between them, becoming slightly awkward. He glanced down at his case and combat gear, then checked his watch – it said four o'clock in the afternoon, still set to New York time, whereas the clock on her mantle read nine in the evening. "I don't know about you but I'm still on New York time, which means it feels like it's about the middle of the afternoon after an all-nighter," he said, breaking the silence. "Think I'm just gonna head to bed."

"I think I'll join you," she replied and - dammit, he couldn't help it - he raised an eyebrow at her as the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. "Mind out of the gutter, Thompson," she chided sternly as she picked up her case and combat gear, no doubt instantly knowing where his thoughts had gone.

"You put it there, sweetheart," he retorted easily, picking up his own bags and following her towards the narrow stairs.

They reached the small, cramped landing where there were three doors. Peggy stood in front of one and nodded her head towards the other two. "Bathroom is there, that will be you," she said, and he pushed open the door she had indicated to reveal a little room decorated in neutral colours with a latticed window that looked over the back garden, containing a single bed and chest of drawers.

"Thanks," he said, thinking that he hadn't slept in a single bed since his days in the Navy and wondering if it would be too short for his six foot frame.

Peggy nodded, lingering by her own door. "We'll head back into Bletchley at O-eight-hundred-hours tomorrow morning, scope out some of those buildings," she said to him all business, and then added, "I thought earlier that we should also look further into Matthew Shorely, he left England for New York for a reason."

"Good plan," he agreed, lingering in the doorway of the room that would be his for the duration of their stay. There was another pause, then he dropped his gaze. "Night then," he added, glancing back up at her.

She smiled, her hand wrapped around the handle of her own door as she pushed it open. "Night, Jack."


Next up – a mission goes wrong …

Have you heard we're getting a season 2? Whoop! :)

Thanks to #dontbesillywefall and #cravinghoneydukes for beta-ing for me.

And thank you all for your reviews – keep 'em coming!