Scenarios

A/N: Prompted by Flpirate305's request for a companion piece to Sibling Rivalry told from Jack's point of view.

What Matters Most

Jack stared at the time off request form in front of him, and stared again.

It was either that or stare longingly over at the bottle of bourbon near the window - his cure-all for Carter-induced ailments, a remedy that he had indulged in far too much the last time she took a 'vacation'.

"Carter, what is this?"

"It's a time-off request form, sir," was her oh-so-bland-and-allegedly-innocent reply.

He tried to find some excuse to deny her, but she had to go and be reasonable. And for some reason, her reassurance that she was not returning to L.A. but was spending a weekend in D.C. was not all that comforting.

Perhaps, it was because it was like imagining a lioness in a den of foxes.

Nevertheless, he approved her request and shooed her to H.R., wondering all the while if he would be able to nip out on the wedding festivities his parents strong-armed him into attending so that he could ascertain whatever shenanigans Peggy Carter was up to.

Doubtful, but if there was an opportunity, his sense of self-preservation would demand that he take advantage of it.

Downing a stiff dram, he mentally cheered, 'Here's hoping.'

~A~

That weekend…

He glanced around the room and tried not to look as bored as he felt. He hated these functions. Once he had thought rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful, accepted as one of them, would finally bring him a sense of contentment.

Now he knew the truth - the rat race at the top of the hill was far more vicious and he had a lot farther to fall.

He would have been far happier knocking back a few with his agents, including Carter and Susan, than he was right now with this pack of social climbers at this ostentatious wedding. But he knew there was no way he could be an effective Chief of the S.S.R. if he didn't start making more friends with the powers-that-be, especially after his takedown of Masters and the Arena Club.

However he refused to begin his campaign in the wake of his brother, who was working the room with his latest arm candy. He was not going to be David's kid brother shadow anymore. He had seen and done too much, in the last year, let alone in the war, for that.

He glanced around the room again to see if there was any bridesmaid that would be worth passing the time with.

'...No, too drunk... and, no, that one is giggling inanely, probably having no clue as to what is actually being said...and, hell no, that one is bitchy and has a thing for my brother...'

'And whoa, it looks as if she is ready to throw daggers at the Arm Candy...'

'Shit! Is that - is that - ? No fucking way!'

But it was.

The curvy, confident, and glorious woman in the burgundy wine colored gown, with glossy dark curls stylishly coiffed, and a smile that was both sultry and as radiant as he had ever seen it, was Peggy Carter, the woman who haunted his dreams, both good and bad.

And there she was, dancing with him – David-fucking-Andrew-fucking-Thompson.

Mr. Fucking Perfect. Of course, she bloody was.

~.~

If the whiskey glass had been a champagne flute, it would have shattered in his hands. As tight as he was gripping it to keep from hurling it against the nearest marble pillar, it was a near thing.

He didn't know how long he stood there in frozen shock, but when her dark eyes met his and he saw the guilt reflected in them, he was propelled into movement.

He stiffly set the drink down, tossed a few bills down, and spun on his heel to head to the nearest exit.

It led out to a patio that had stone steps of two tiers that descended to a small lawn. On the far side was a gazebo, and at the base of the steps was a elegantly tiered fountain.

The gazebo and the patio were all occupied with couples, so he stopped on the landing and stared down at the fountain. And he wondered how many quarters it would take to grant his one wish - to unsee what he had just witnessed.

He felt betrayed.

Not by his brother. No, this was typical David behavior. His brother had to have the best of everything - he was David Thompson, the apple of their parents' eyes, the Golden Boy, and therefore deserved it all. And Margaret Carter was quite the prize.

But how could she?

She was too smart not to see the game that David was playing, and he thought she was the kind of woman who wouldn't have stood for being seen as a trophy to be claimed.

But then again, he had thought she was the kind of woman, possibly the only woman he could call a friend, who would have considered -

Goddamn it! She had looked guilty, so she had known how he would feel and yet she had done it anyways!

She knew how deep the wounds went after a lifetime of being second best. After a night of one too many in the week of his brother's election to the State Senate, he had pathetically spilled it all to her. And he had thought, she had looked at him with a gaze filled with understanding not pity. He guessed now that perhaps that was just the poor lighting of the pub that they had been in.

More fool him.

He was so deep into his reverie of self-loathing that he didn't register her approach, and her opening gambit was so out of character for her that it took him a moment to realize that it was her.

"So fancy meeting you here. If I had known you were coming to this shindig too, I would have offered to ride up with you. We could have been train buddies. Then again it might have been awkward at the station when the Jarvises came to pick me up. They still haven't quite forgiven you for that threat you made about deporta- "

And then he couldn't believe his ears. She was prattling - prattling! - at him like an airheaded bimbo!

Rage filled him, and slamming his hand down on stone balustrade, he spewed out with a growl, "Screw the Jarvises, Peggy!"

She said something cute and probably in her mind very clever, but it was as if she was digging in the knife ever deeper.

"Why, the bloody hell – are you – here – with – him?"

"Because he asked me to."

"Bullshit!"

His shout of outrage drew the nosy attention of the party nearby. It took a reassuring smile from her to get them to mind their own business, but eventually they moved away to give the two of them some privacy.

With a much lower voice, but no less bitter, he continued, "I know for a fact that the Adonis-like medical examiner would and has asked you to functions like this, and if you had wanted to come to this particular one for whatever reason, that J.A.G. lawyer that is always panting after you whenever we are down at the court house would have taken you at the crook of your little finger. I mean, I know David's smart, strong, brave, and true – a man of Steve Roger's caliber like I never will be, but out of all the men who are, why the bloody hell did it have to be him?"

Predictably her hackles went up at his little diatribe, and she squared off with him, which strangely made him feel as if he was on steadier ground.

"For all your vaunted investigative savvy, you know nothing, Jack Thompson," was her scathing reply.

He was going to retort that his parents and brother had often voiced that opinion, so at least he knew that much, but then she began to deconstruct his argument point by point.

"For your information, that Dr. 'Adonis' is a medical examiner because he loves the sound of his own voice, and it's guaranteed that his patients will never interrupt him. For another, the Lieutenant Commander flirts with me because he thinks he is God's gift to women and I will be so overwhelmed by his attentions that I will give him a sneak peek at evidence in ongoing cases against his defendants."

While he was pleased she had perceived all of this, he held his breath, bracing himself in vain for when she inevitably defended her choice in the Thompson who wasn't a coward and constant disappointment to everyone around him.

"And it amazes me," she continued irritably, "That you think these are 'equals' of Steve's, but even more so that you think your brother – a career politician – could ever be."

Wait. What?

David didn't measure up?

David had lost to the ghost of Rogers just like everyone else?

But if he didn't, then who the hell would or possibly could?

And if all of this was true, then why the hell was she here with him?

A small smile played across her full lips as she watched the no doubt obvious growing consternation play across his face.

But her voice was tinged with sadness not amusement, as she softly answered his unspoken question, "If you must know, your brother asked me to come with him tonight because I 'clean up rather well', am an unknown mysterious entity in these circles at least to the women, that I can hold my own against the catty and conniving, and I know how to convincingly play a role."

He knew that he was staring stupidly at her, but his brain was just not computing. This hadn't been a game of brotherly upmanship and this hadn't been Peggy finding her next all-American beaux. This had been about...

"He wanted to make his ex-fiancé jealous and regret that she ever left him."

...preserving his jilted brother's pride.

"Oh," he muttered sheepishly, feeling like the selfish jackass he was proclaimed to be.

"Yeah, 'oh'," she gently chided.

Before he could ask how she met his brother and why she was helping him out like this, she reached up and turned his face back towards hers, whispering softly, "And more importantly, the one man that I did want to come with to something like this will never ask me."

God, there was someone else. And he wanted to punch the guy out of jealousy and out of anger that that this bloke was too stupid to do anything about it. For Christ's sake, even Sousa had finally grown a pair and tried to make a go of it with Carter before realizing that Violet and he were better suited for each other.

"My best guess is that he does not think himself 'worthy'. At one time, that might have been the case. He was a wannabe politician himself. But he soon learned that he was a true blue copper at heart, a seeker of justice. And even though, he now tries to walk on the side of the angels, he cannot forgive himself for one act of cowardice, and he seems to foolishly think a brave man is one who is absent of fear."

It wasn't fair that while she spoke of this idiotic poster boy of redemption, she stood so close to him. Her hand was warm upon his cheek and all he wanted to do was lean into it like the infatuated imbecile he was. And it certainly didn't help that she was looking at him with those devastating dark brown eyes of hers.

She stood so close that he felt her chest graze his arm as she took a deep steadying breath, as if she was about to dive into a river several hundred yards below.

And then with a determined expression, she dove.

"And he does not seem to realize that he is among the rare few that I trust to have at my back when the chips are down. And he definitely does not seem to believe that I might want to take a gamble of the heart on him."

He stood there frozen, unable to move, held there by her fierce gaze and warm hand.

And the sudden realization that the idiotic poster boy she was describing was -

No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

Did he dare to hope?

Him?

The cynical jackass and barely tolerable thorn in her side? The bloody craven who survived the war when her hero did not?

Peggy Carter trusted him, wanted him, like that?

Ha! Right. Pull the other one.

He planned to voice just that, to play off her comments as some great joke, because that is what it had to be, when she let out a low growl of frustration and grabbed him by his dinner jacket lapels, muttering, "Never have I known a man to so constantly need his ego stroked."

And then she was spinning him around and shoving him into the nearest darkest recess and kissing him.

It was a firm, unhesitant, and no holds barred kind of kiss.

It made one thing very clear - Peggy Carter wanted him.

Good God, there wasn't any justice or sanity in the world. And he didn't give a damn.

~A~

The following Tuesday...

"Carter, what is this?"

"It's a resignation letter, sir," Peggy replied with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"I know that," he growled. "The question is why?"

He growled partly to mask the rising wave off fear - that she had changed her mind, that she was trying to get as far away as she could from him - and partly because he wanted to reach over and kiss that lip she was nibbling to suppress her amusement.

Peggy shrugged, "We agreed that I shouldn't 'stroke' your ego in the office. But as I am having a terribly difficult time resisting that temptation, I decided to take Howard up on his offer to co-found a global intelligence agency."

"Bullshit."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Not that Howard came up with such a scheme or that you're qualified for such an undertaking, but that whatever we have going on between us is the reason you said yes."

She nodded, admitting, "You're right that's not the reason, but one of the reasons I wanted to say no was that I enjoy what we have here and I'll miss it. However, if you're not my boss, I think we'll have a better chance at exploring this whole new world of 'us'."

And as if that hadn't sold him on the idea, she dangled a carrot in front of him, saying, "Daniel and Violet are getting married in the spring. I would like for you to be my plus one."

God, he wanted to kiss her in reward for that. It was killing him not to.

Instead, he signed off on her resignation and returned the favor.

"Run this down to H.R. before you leave for the day."

She looked a little bit uncertain as she accepted the letter back, asking hesitantly, "And the other matter, Jack?"

"Meet me for dinner at Keens, and we can discuss the matter further, Marge."

A contented smile lit her face, as she securely murmured for probably the last time:

"Yes, Chief."

~A~

Two years later...

David was giving his Big Brother-Best Man speech, taking full credit for bringing the two of them together.

Normally, he would have taken umbrage at his brother's gross overstatement, but he had several reasons why he didn't give a flying fig today.

One, Daniel, who was one of his other groomsmen and who had done a lot more in support of their relationship, was taking more than enough exception for the both of them.

Leaning past him, Danny boy muttered, "Peggy, are you sure that you don't at least hear the family resemblance?"

He definitely would have taken offense at that insulting comparison, if it hadn't been for the other reason.

And that reason was that Peggy's response was to stare back into his eyes, her gaze as adoring as his was, as she murmured, "My husband may be an asinine jackass at times, but he is at least a quick learner."

Well such genuine and heartfelt compliments should not go unrewarded in his opinion.

Kissing his Marge, his wife, was like being drunk on the finest of scotches.

It was even better than the high he experienced from knowing that he had surpassed his elder brother in the one area that mattered -

He had gotten the girl.

A/N: I'm baaack! Over a year later, but I have one or two prompts that my Muse finally latched onto. So please, let me know which version of this story you prefer, or any other constructive feedback. It's much appreciated : )