A/N: Thought about splitting this in two. Decided it works better as a whole. Drop twice the love!
Cornelius a Lapide, about a woman: "Her glance is that of the fabled basilisk, her voice is a siren's voice – with her voice she enchants, with her beauty she deprives of reason – voice and sight alike deal destruction and death."
The morning after Alice's meeting with Agent Carter at Ratner's, she walked out of her hotel and found a black car idling on the curb. She climbed in to see Agent Carter waiting for her in a perfectly-pressed olive military uniform.
A short drive took them to a re-purposed warehouse in Queens. At first, as Agent Carter led her through a hidden back entrance, Alice thought she was being taken into SSR headquarters, but the near-empty state of the building soon proved her wrong. Agent Carter brought her into an office up the back, empty save for a desk and two wooden chairs. Piles of dust sat in the corners and on the windowsills, and the single electric light shone dimly.
What followed over the course of that day and the next was a series of interrogations. Agent Carter asked most of the questions, but on the second day two grim-faced men in dark suits who Carter only introduced as "Agents" added to her questioning. They asked Alice everything she knew, and she told them: her acquaintances in the Austrian and German governments, her social circle, her access to high-security buildings, her underground network in Austria, her actions in France, everything she had ever done to subvert the Nazi occupation.
Alice noticed that they asked a lot of questions about her trip to Castle Kauffman and her interactions with Herr Schmidt.
Alice gave her impression of every Nazi official she had ever spoken with and everything she'd found out about their private lives. Agent Carter was ever-vigilant in her unblinking, unsurprised façade, but her hard-faced colleagues occasionally raised their eyebrows at the extent of the information Alice provided. They scribbled in their notepads as she spoke.
As the questioning progressed, Agent Carter began to speak more. When Alice told them about her visits to other countries and the people she'd met there, Carter said: "We'll have you keep your travel. But we'll have to find a way to give you more autonomy than a performance tour provides, in case we need you in a specific location at a specific time." Alice raised an eyebrow at the implication that they were ready take Alice on as a… as a spy, but continued on.
In this strange, question-and-answer format, Alice and Agent Carter began to set up arrangements for her return to Europe. They agreed she'd take up singing again, with an SSR handler stepping in as her new music agent now that her uncle was gone. They agreed that she ought to strengthen her connections in France to give the SSR better access there, and that the SSR would send agents into Austria to be a part of Alice's quiet network. Agent Carter told Alice which generals they wanted her to get closer to, and what specific information to look for – "Don't worry, I'll show you how to find out what you need".
They took the conversation out of the empty office. They pored over maps of Europe and flipped through files on Nazi generals. Agent Carter informed Alice that she was "woefully under-trained, but we'll fix that up in no time". Alice met very few other people who were a part of this elusive 'SSR', but from what Carter said about agents and handlers it was clear they had a wide reach.
After a few days of this back-and-forth in the nearly abandoned warehouse, Alice pulled a sheaf of papers out of her bag and set them on the table in front of Agent Carter. Carter gave her a narrow, assessing gaze.
Alice stood with her hands behind her back as Carter leafed through the papers: a hand-drawn map of an intercontinental train line the Nazis were planning on building (Alice had copied it from memory after seeing the plans in the home of a general who had invited her and her uncle for a party), a set of blueprints for a new kind of panzer tank (in a fit of fury and desperation, she'd snatched that right out of a visiting scientist's briefcase), and a series of lists and diagrams she'd drawn up: German officials posted in Austria, rumors of new construction in the Austrian mountains, suspected French civilians spying for the Nazis; anything and everything Alice could think of that she'd discovered over the past year.
Agent Carter scanned the last page and then looked up. "You trust me."
Alice inclined her head. "Am I wrong?"
"No." Carter shook her head slowly, and let out a slow breath. "No. We'll know just what to do with these." She slid the sheaf of papers into a folder and fastened it tightly. Her eyes flicked back up to Alice. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
This time the black sedan took them to a nondescript office building in Manhattan. Carter led Alice into an elevator, and the doors dinged open on the thirtieth floor to reveal a bored-looking receptionist leaning on her elbow at a desk beside a door with a sign over it that read Accounting.
"Got any gum?" the receptionist drawled when she spotted the two newcomers. Alice cocked an eyebrow, but Carter didn't seem fazed.
"No, my grandmother told me I ran the risk of choking," she replied. At her even tone, Alice almost smiled. Another code.
"More's the pity," said the receptionist with a quirk of her mouth, then pulled open a drawer at her desk and touched something. There was a click, and suddenly the wall to her right was moving – oh. A hidden door. Alice's eyes went round as the section of wall popped out with a pneumatic hiss, and then slid aside.
"You trust me," she murmured to Carter.
"Is he in?" Carter called to the receptionist as she strode toward the door.
"Yes ma'am." The receptionist slumped back onto her elbow and pulled a newspaper toward herself. "He just got back from the Brooklyn faci-"
Carter shot a warning glance and the woman shut her mouth.
Alice's mouth quirked. "You trust me a bit," she corrected.
"You don't need to know everything the SSR gets up to, Ms Homer," Carter replied over her shoulder as they strode through the hidden door. The space beyond was almost disappointing: a tiled corridor lined with offices, and what looked almost like a police bullpen at the end. As Alice followed Carter's clipping footsteps down the corridor she frowned.
"Sorry, Ms Homer?"
A pair of uniformed soldiers walked out of an office and made for the elevator without casting Carter or Alice a second glance.
"I've decided that'll be your alias while you're with us," Carter explained. "Homer."
They strode past the bullpen, which had maps on the walls and people with the look of analysts bent over desks covered in paper. The blinds were closed and the lights turned on to compensate, giving the space a warm yellow glow. Carter cleared her throat and Alice drew her eyes away. This didn't feel like the SSR's main headquarters to her, maybe just an analysis department, but it was a large show of faith to invite Alice into it.
"Homer," Alice echoed, thinking about it as she eyed the corridor ahead. "Oh, I see. Homer wrote the Odyssey, in which Odysseus comes across the-"
"Sirens," Carter said with a hint of a smile. They reached the end of the long corridor, where she tapped her knuckles on the furthest door. A gruff voice called 'What?' and Carter swung the door open.
Inside a cramped, yellow-lit office at a desk covered in stacks of paperwork sat a grim-faced man in a dark olive military uniform. Alice's gaze swept over his medals and insignia. A colonel. He looked up at the intruders to his office and a frown settled over his brow. The colonel had sturdy, serious features and his eyes were uncannily sharp as he looked from Carter to Alice.
"Carter, what have I said about bothering me while I'm in my office?"
Agent Carter closed the door once Alice had entered and drew her heels together. "Colonel Phillips, this is Homer."
"I figured," the man said gruffly. His gaze turned back to Alice and his jaw tightened. "Thought you'd be taller."
Alice felt small in the office, standing in her winter coat amongst these two in their crisp uniforms. But she just lifted her chin a little and held the colonel's gaze.
"She's not a soldier, Colonel," Carter pointed out.
"And yet you're asking me to trust her like one," Colonel Phillips said without taking his eyes off Alice. He had a brisk way of talking that kept Alice on her guard. He tipped his chin at her. "Why'd you come all the way to New York?"
"Pardon?"
His eyes narrowed. "You had your contacts in France, wouldn't it have been easier to join up with agencies in Britain? Why us?"
Ah. Alice looked into his narrowed eyes and realized he suspected her to be a plant of some kind, maybe from Herr Schmidt's science division.
She cleared her throat. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see my childhood home again," she said. "But it's more than that. My contacts in France said that the SSR was an agency willing to take risks."
The Colonel shot her an unimpressed look. "You really want us to be taking risks with you?"
"I want you to help me." Alice fought not to clench her hands. "I've been working in the dark all this time trying to help, I need someone… someone to tell me which direction to turn. I know what I'm asking, I know what I'm going to become." A double agent. The look in Phillips' eyes shifted. "And I want to help you. It's not easy to get into Germany's inner circles – you need an ethnic German with deep-rooted connections, someone with money, who won't be out of place in the halls of power. Someone they won't see coming." Alice straightened her shoulders and her gaze bored into Colonel Phillips's. "They won't see me coming."
The uniformed man leaned back in his seat and reached up to scratch his chin, not taking his eyes off Alice. Carter stood to the side, watching them both with her usual calm poise.
Alice felt Phillips take her measure as he watched her.
Eventually, he spread his hand. "What the hell, I've heard worse ideas." His eyes flicked toward Carter. "You got what you wanted, Agent Carter, I'm greenlighting the Homer Project." Out of the corner of her eye Alice spotted Carter dip her chin in a nod with a not-quite smile on her face.
Phillips set his hands on his desk and rose to his feet, making the piles of paper shiver. "Ms Moser." Alice flinched at the use of her real name and met his eyes. "This is the one and only time we're going to acknowledge this out loud, so listen up. From this point on, you are a spy handled by the SSR."
He paused a moment, letting that sink in. Alice drew in a slow breath and didn't break eye contact.
"Because of your usual location and position we're going to have to coordinate with other agencies. That's annoying to me." Alice had no way to tell from the flat look on his face if he was attempting to be humorous. She guessed not. "And I don't trust you."
They held each other's gazes for a few moments longer. Alice could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, though she wasn't sure why. Isn't this what I wanted? She supposed that having it spoken so plainly was nervewracking.
Phillips cleared his throat. "Agent Carter is in charge of your training until we're ready to send you back into the field." The field. Vienna, Austria – the field. "You're to make yourself available at her convenience, and we'll continue strategizing how to best utilize you as a resource as you train."
"Understood," Alice murmured.
Colonel Phillips's jaw tightened. "I want you to understand something else, Homer. If you turn out to be anything other than what you claim, the SSR will not suffer you to continue on. If we get the slightest inkling of a betrayal we won't just drop you – we'll eliminate you. This is a war for the fate of entire nations and the entire world, and we do not have the time for young, scheming women. You help us win, or you cease to be important. Do you understand?"
Alice fought not to let her eyes slide to Agent Carter. Carter might not have put it in the same way, but Alice knew she felt the same: Alice had taken another step in the game of trust and suspicion, had become a very valuable thread in the complex tapestry of the war, and her life was very much on the line. She knew what she'd signed up for.
"I understand," she replied in a softer tone than he had used. "I've taken a risk on you," she added. "Thank you for extending the same courtesy."
Phillips's gaze was iron, but she could see him measuring her words. "You're dismissed."
Alice nodded, finally breaking eye contact with the man, and turned for the door. She sensed a silence pass between Carter and Phillips before she heard Carter's clicking footsteps following her.
"And don't go telling your brother or any of your friends in Brooklyn about any of this, either," Phillips called as Alice opened the door. She flinched, but didn't look back at him. The SSR have done their research.
Alice strode numbly through the door and fell still in the corridor beyond. Carter followed her through and closed the door.
Alice let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"He's a taskmaster," came Carter's crisp voice, followed by a softer tone: "But he's not a bully."
Alice turned to her with raised eyebrows.
Carter's face softened. "He's on board with taking a chance on you, but he wanted to make sure you knew what was at stake."
Alice drew herself up. "I've been living under Nazi rule for three years, Agent Carter." Her eyes flashed. "I know what's at stake."
Carter nodded slowly, her eyes roving over Alice's face. "Yes, I believe you do." She cleared her throat. "Let's get started."
Laura Phillips's speech at the Colonel Chester Phillips Forty-Year Memorial Service, 2010
"My grandfather could be a real monster sometimes. He was hard-headed, blunt, and often struggled to break away from his more traditional ideas. In his personal life, for example, he struggled with the idea of his daughter, my mother, becoming a single mother. But, and this was one of the wonderful things about him, he did have an open mind in the end. He knew he wasn't always right. He supported my mother, and became the strongest and most inspiring male influence in my life.
This translated to his career, I believe. My grandfather's rigid determination was just what the Army and the SSR needed at that crucial moment in the war: decisive action and bold choices. But it was his openness, no matter how reluctant, that I believe made him a truly extraordinary commander. He made decisions and allowed unique ideas to go ahead that changed the face of the war and the world. It allowed him to become one of the three co-founders of S.H.I.E.L.D, which has become one of this country's most important defenses against unusual threats.
When, nearly twenty years after the founding of S.H.I.E.L.D., Colonel Phillips learned that his only granddaughter was signing up to become an agent, he threw what I believe to be one of the most enormous fits of his lifetime. But after a few weeks passed, granddad came and pulled me out of basic training. I was furious, thought he was going to try and convince me to go home like he had been for weeks. But he just put his hand on my shoulder and said 'I wasn't angry because I thought you couldn't do it, Laura. I was scared because I knew that you could. Now get back out there and give 'em hell.'
Granddad might not have been able to judge a person's potential accurately when he first met them, but he sure as hell paid attention when someone proved him wrong."
Alice began her training that day. She and Carter drove back to the warehouse complex in Queens, and Carter put her to work.
She started with physical training: running laps around the warehouse, thundering up and down stairs, lifting herself over fences and balustrades. About an hour in, Alice asked for a change of clothes. Carter pursed her lips as she looked down from an upper level of the warehouse and replied: "You won't have time for a change of clothes when you need these skills. Keep going." Alice let out a sigh, wiped her sweaty forehead and went right back to running around in her skirt and pumps.
For a couple of days all Alice did was run, jump, climb and sweat under Carter's steely-eyed instruction, and then spent her free time with Tom and Steve. A few days into her training, after Carter had blessedly cut down on the exercise schedule to start teaching Alice fieldcraft and orienteering, Steve and Alice went to go see a film.
Steve seemed excited about Alice finally seeing a non-censored movie, but when they walked into the warm dark of the theater Alice wasn't completely sure what the name of the film even was. She and Steve took their seats, and if it wasn't for the box of popcorn between them their legs would be pressed against one another. The side of Alice's body facing Steve prickled. When the lights dimmed and the audience fell silent, the darkness vibrated with possibility.
Alice didn't notice much of the film. On the way home, Steve made her laugh so hard that he had to take her elbow to keep her from running into a light post.
When Alice fell into her hotel bed she finally felt the tiredness and soreness in her limbs, and the lessons about map reading and using terrain to hide oneself began to swirl through her brain again. For a few blessed hours, it had all disappeared. Alice smiled to herself and rolled to press her face into the pillow, thinking of Steve's quiet humor and brilliant laugh, and most of all, the way that he had been looking at her tonight. As if she was the only person in the universe.
Carter occasionally brought in other agents to assist with Alice's training, but more often than not it was just the two of them. Alice wondered if this lack of resources was a sign that the SSR weren't putting much faith in her, but she suspected they just wanted as few people as possible to know about her. And, Alice reflected as Carter showed her how to use natural terrain as cover against small arms fire, they could not have given her a better instructor.
Carter was an unknown quantity at first, but it was becoming clear to Alice that in many ways they were very similar. Carter was blunter than her, a little more down to earth, with a wealth of knowledge about war and spycraft. Carter was elegant, as Alice had attempted to portray herself in public since childhood, but Alice had always had swans in mind when she practiced her elegance. Carter reminded Alice of a panther.
Alice got used to spending her days in the warehouse alone with Carter. So when the black sedan began driving in the opposite direction one morning, she looked out of the corner of her eye at Carter.
"Another SSR facility?" she murmured.
"Not quite," Carter replied.
The buildings sliding past the windows shrank and grew farther apart, until they were well and truly out of the city. The road grew bumps and potholes, jarring the mostly-silent passengers. They'd been driving for over an hour. They drove past houses and fields laden with snow. Alice knew better than to ask questions when Carter had that steely, poised look in her eye. Agent Carter was a woman who chose her words carefully and used them sparingly. Alice sensed a test coming.
So when the car pulled over on the side of a dirt road running through lonely farmland, Alice wasn't surprised. But she was nervous.
"Get out of the car, if you please," Carter instructed.
Alice opened the door and stepped out. Carter didn't follow.
"Today will be a feat of imagination." Carter's dark eyes met Alice's. "Your task is to imagine that every person you come across is a potential Nazi. Danger lurks down every roadway and behind every house. Nowhere is safe."
Alice inclined her head, despite the sudden increase in her heartrate. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like this.
"Excellent. Under these conditions, your task is to make it back to Manhattan without anyone seeing or questioning you. If you are questioned, maintain a cover and get away as quickly as possible. Go to the SSR offices in Manhattan, not the warehouse. I trust you remember where those are."
Alice's mind whirled. She'd only been there once, over a week ago, when she met Colonel Phillips. Pleas gathered at the tip of her tongue: I've never been so far out of the city before, I've got no idea where I am. I'm wearing heels, stockings, a coat and a dress. It's February in New York, I'm already freezing. But she swallowed the words and offered Carter nothing but a cautious nod.
"Wonderful," Carter replied. "See you soon, Agent Homer." She leaned across the back seat, slammed the door shut, and the driver took off with a crunch of tires on dirt.
Alice watched the car disappear into the distance and tried not to be furious.
Excerpt from "Training SOE Saboeteurs in World War Two" by Bernie Ross, BBC
There was a four-stage plan in the training of prospective agents of the British Special Operations Executive (SOE)... those who passed the preliminary stage were sent to paramilitary schools, known as the group A schools.
...
The courses lasted at first for three weeks but were later increased to five weeks. They included physical training, silent killing, weapons handling, demolition, map reading, compass work, field craft, elementary Morse, and raid tactics.
...
The training began with a hard slog... both men and women had to complete the course, and they would be equally tired, aching and covered in bruises having crawled on their bellies and trekked up mountains.
By the time Alice got back to Manhattan in the middle of the next day she was wearing stolen overalls, covered in bruises, and had scorched her forearm on the exhaust pipe of the truck she'd stowed away on into the city, but no one had noticed her. Not the farmers whose land she had trespassed through on her way to a major transit line, not customers at the town grocery store she'd stolen bread from. Not even the doorman at the SSR office building in Manhattan.
She caught the elevator up to the thirtieth floor and the minute the receptionist at the desk – the same one as before – saw her she asked in a surprisingly even tone: "Got any gum?"
Alice let out a sigh and pushed her grimy hair out of her face, trying to remember word-for-word what Carter had said last week. "No. My grandmother told me I ran the risk of choking." She hoped the code hadn't changed.
But the receptionist just shot her a tight smile, flicked her eyes over her ragged appearance, and said: "Go on in, honey." She hit the button in her desk drawer and the hidden door in the wall slid open. "Third door on your right."
Alice was tempted to sag to the ground and weep with relief, but eventually convinced herself to stride into the SSR headquarters and find the right office. It was nearly empty inside. When she knocked on the third door on the right she glanced over her shoulder to see that she'd tracked a trail of dirt inside.
"Enter," came Carter's distinctive voice.
Alice pushed open the door and walked inside. Carter sat at a desk similar to Colonel Phillips' with an open file before her and a biro in her hand. She looked up and ran her dark eyes over Alice.
"I made it," Alice said, because a few seconds of silence had passed and her legs were aching.
Carter raised an eyebrow. "Were you noticed? Questioned?"
"I haven't spoken to anyone since you, yesterday morning."
Those dark eyes flicked over her once more. "Are you injured?"
Alice hurt all over, but she knew it was nothing that wouldn't fade with a good night's sleep and a bath. "No."
"Excellent." Carter nodded at the chair across from her desk. "Take a seat, Agent Homer. I've just called for tea and it should be here in a moment. I'd like an immediate report of your movements and observations."
Alice fought back a sigh as she strode forward and sank into the seat. She should have known better to think this would all be over once she arrived back, though the tea was a nice touch. She rubbed the heel of her palm into her forehead, centering her thoughts, and then looked up to meet Carter's eyes.
"Start with your first thoughts after being dropped off," Carter stated, her pen ready over her file – which, Alice realized, was titled HOMER.
Alice took in a deep breath and began.
Alice got back to her hotel that evening to find Steve arguing with the clerk at the front desk. His hair was mussed and his voice threaded with tension as he spoke to the increasingly irritated clerk. For a moment the sight of him froze Alice in her tracks: the warm lobby light gleaming in his hair, the slight flush to his cheeks, the determined set of his jaw.
"Steve," she breathed, suddenly glad that Carter had given her a change of clothes back at the SSR offices.
Steve whirled around and his whole expression loosened at seeing her. "Alice!" He abandoned the clerk (who rolled his eyes and went back to his files), and jogged across the empty lobby towards her. Alice, bone tired and startled into stillness at the sight of him, just stared as he ran up to her and put his hands on her arms, looking into her face.
"Where have you been?" he asked frantically. "Are you okay? I've been looking for you all day, but the hotel staff wouldn't tell me if you've been in or not-"
"I'm okay, I promise," she cut in. They'd planned to catch up last night, and Alice had been planning to apologize to him today, but she hadn't expected this. She'd almost forgotten how it felt to have people worry for her like this. "I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday, I" – half a second to think – "I went to Mom's grave and I… I guess I got distracted. I'm sorry."
She wasn't sure if he noticed the lie or not. She hoped he didn't, she felt awful enough for using her mom's grave as an excuse. She had visited her mom's and Matthias's graves, but still. Either way, Steve's face did something complicated and deep that then turned into him pulling her into his arms. Alice fought the hiss that threatened to escape when he jostled her bruises, but then she registered warm, Steve, safe and let out a sigh that jellied her bones and had her sinking into his arms.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Steve asked, his voice muffled in her hair.
Alice nodded, jostling his head slightly. "I promise."
The next day, Carter moved on to communications. She brought Alice to a workshop full of radios and transmitters, and arched an eyebrow at Alice's look of glee.
"I suppose you've some experience with radios, given your experience with your network in Austria."
Alice nodded slowly as she ran her fingers over a beautiful wooden Zenith radio. "I've been pulling radios apart since I was a kid."
Carter's lip quirked. "How good are you at putting them back together?"
"Try me."
They spent the day in the workshop discussing frequencies, masking communications in static, hiding messages in radio broadcasts, and using innocuous telegrams to transmit coordinates. In the afternoon, Carter slid a type-written page of gibberish across the table towards Alice.
"Read this."
Alice flicked her gaze over the page and then raised an eyebrow. "A Vigenere cipher? You might have tried to make it difficult, at least." All she'd have to do was guess the length of the encryption key, and then use the logic that E was the most common letter in the English alphabet to begin unraveling the cipher.
Carter laughed. "Confident words, Agent Homer. Give that cipher a try and then get back to me."
Alice let out a put upon sigh, then picked up a pencil and bent over the paper. Within ten minutes she had figured out the five-letter key (ROUGE), and all that was left was to go through the paper by hand to decrypt it. It was tedious work, but Alice had always found that decryption calmed her mind. She hesitated a moment while decrypting before realizing that the message was written in French. A clever misdirection.
Carter walked in and out of the workshop as Alice scribbled, occasionally glancing over her shoulder with an unreadable look.
The translated message emerged: CONGRATULATIONS HOMER. IF YOU HAVE TRANSLATED THIS WITHOUT ASSISTANCE, YOU HAVE AN ACCEPTABLE WORKING KNOWLEDGE OF CIPHERS. CRAFT A REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE AND ENCRYPT IT USING THE SAME KEY.
The corner of her mouth ticked up and she began encrypting a reply.
When she handed her completed reply to Carter, the other woman raised an eyebrow as she scanned it. "You've been trained?"
"Self-taught. From childhood."
"Whatever for?"
Alice shrugged. "I liked puzzles."
Carter laid the paper back on the desk. "There's puzzles, and then there's decryption."
"All the same to me."
Carter tapped her finger against the solved message, and the encrypted reply. She could see from the notes that Alice's mind was precise, honed to find the smallest variations in ciphers to pull them apart. She had a clear knowledge of the mathematical principles that made codes work.
"You know," she reflected, "We could use you at Bletchley Park."
Alice cocked an eyebrow. "Is that all you could use me for?"
Carter sighed. "I suppose you're better placed as a double agent. At least I won't have to spend too long training you in the communications and coding side of things."
Alice propped her chin in her hand and looked up at her mentor. "So you were at Bletchley, then."
Carter eyed her flatly. "Did I say that?"
Alice fought off a smile. "What do you do in the SSR then, that you have all this time to train me?"
"I'm a consultant," Carter explained. "I'm available for missions, training, recruit assessment, anything."
"And what, the SSR is just… hanging out in New York? Why aren't you all over in Europe?"
"There's work to be done here," Carter said shortly. "And if you have time to be asking nosy questions, you have time to be training. Let's go learn how to get past a lock you don't have the key for."
Alice sprang to her feet and beamed eagerly at Carter. The other woman shot her a narrow-eyed glance and then strode out of the room.
That evening Alice and Steve caught the train to Harlem, where Tom had invited them to a family dance hall. They kept to the edges of the hall, as they had as children, and watched kids and adults spin across the dance floor. Tom danced with no less than six girls, which had Alice raising her eyebrows, but she supposed he'd inherited Matthias's charm.
"Bucky's a bad influence on him. I hope he'll find one person to use all that charm on one day," Alice said wryly to Steve, whose laugh reverberated beside her.
"Maybe he's already found her," Steve replied, nodding his head at Tom as he whirled a girl with tight ringlets across the floor. Alice let out a hmm.
The girl with the ringlets turned out to be the dance hall owner's daughter, and Alice had only turned away a moment before finding out that Tom had somehow talked his way onto the stage with the band. The band had paused to sip from their glasses of water, laughing at the frizz-haired boy cracking jokes in their midst. Alice's mouth dropped open, and then snapped firmly shut when Tom beckoned to her from the stage. "Come up here!" he mouthed.
Alice shook her head. The last thing she needed was people recognizing her. Though this wasn't Austria, and it wasn't often that pictures of her made it across the sea…
"Go on," came Steve's voice from beside her. She glanced over to see him nodding at her. "It'd be just like old times. I haven't heard you sing in…" his face went somber. "Years."
Well, Alice thought to herself as her chest ached. I guess I'm going up there.
"This is all your fault," she murmured to Steve, and caught the beginning of his grin before she whirled on her heel and marched across the hall, up the stage stairs, and to her brother's side.
"Yes!" he crowed, white-toothed and sweaty, then beckoned to the band. "Come on, fellas, let's have a good one!"
The pianist rolled his eyes, but then lowered his fingers to the keys and rolled out the first few chords to They Can't Black Out The Moon.
Alice contained her sigh. A war song. Just what I need. But then Tom nudged her to the other microphone, and there were expectant faces below her, and the vocal cue came in.
"I'm not afraid of the dark," she began, and Tom chimed in with the reply:
"Are you?"
The sound of his not-quite-deep voice brought a smile to her lips, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they rolled through the first verse. It was a strange, playful song for all that it was about air raid blackouts, and when people in the crowd below began to dance and sing along Alice beamed.
"Who cares if we're without a light," Alice sang to Tom's harmony, "they can't black out the moon."
As Alice sang "I see you smiling in the cigarette glow, but the picture fades too soon," she glanced across the crowd to where she'd left Steve. He was dimly lit at the bar, and hunched over, but Alice soon made out the pen in his hand and the napkin he was sketching on, occasionally shooting glances up at the stage. When she caught his gaze, he grinned.
"But I see all I want to know, they can't black out the moon."
Alice and Tom sang their way through the rest of the tune, weaving in and out of each other's voices and taking laughing gasps between lyrics. When they reached the final line of the chorus the pianist ended on a high riff, and when the song faded the audience burst into applause.
"Thank you Harlem!" called Tom. Alice laughed at him, then jerked her thumb over her shoulder and the two of them clattered down the stairs into the crowd.
"You are a clown," Alice laughed at her brother. She felt sweaty, and warm, and her hair was stuck to her face.
"And you ought to have more fun when you're singing," he countered. Alice couldn't really argue with that, so she let him lead her back to the bar and Steve.
Steve climbed off his stool when they approached to give them a round of applause. Tom bowed deeply, but Alice just laughed at them both and took her seat again. Steve's napkin sketch lay on the bar counter.
He'd gotten better since she'd last seen one of his sketches. She'd seen his progression in the drawings he included in his letters, but it was different seeing a sketch with the ink still wet and the paper still warm from his hand. He'd included a startling amount of detail: the way Alice and Tom seemed illuminated on the sketched-out stage, the matching grins on their faces and Tom's fingers curled around the microphone stand. He'd snatched the moment as it was happening and laid it down on paper, and it made Alice strangely breathless.
Steve sat down beside her and his arm pressed against hers. "Seems musical talent runs in the family."
"This is talent," Alice replied, laying a fingertip on a corner of the napkin. She didn't want to touch it for fear she'd ruin it. "It's beautiful, Steve."
Steve didn't reply, but she could feel him looking at her. She stared down at the napkin, memorizing the lines and trying to see herself through Steve's eyes. The woman on that stage was beautiful, no doubt, a harmony to the cheeky young man to her left. More than that: the woman on the napkin was happy. Overflowing with it. Alice hadn't realized it until she saw the proof on paper.
She glanced up to see Tom at the bar, shaking his head.
"What?" she asked.
Tom just shot her an exasperated glance, and then whirled away into the crowd.
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As her training progressed, Alice got the sense that Carter was testing her psychologically. She put Alice in stressful situations without warning or assistance: once, she locked her into a cold dark room with only a glimpse at the pile of items inside, and waited outside as Alice felt her way around to the lock, manipulated the lock back using the protractor she'd spotted, and pushed her way to freedom.
Alice had been ready to craft some ingenious revenge for Carter right up until she burst out of the room, her hair wild around her face and her fingers like numb logs, to see Carter's pleased, proud smile.
As they worked through duller subjects such as learning basic radio signals, Carter would propose scenarios for Alice.
"There's a folio of vital information you need to get back to friendly eyes, but you're trapped in a room with no windows and the Gestapo are on the other side of the door, trying to break in. What do you do?"
"You're at a drop with an ally when you realize that the ally is compromised. What do you do?"
It was unnerving, and frightening, but Alice had been living that reality for years now. She answered as best as she could, and Carter talked her through her choices.
Outside her training, Alice and Steve were in a whirlwind. They'd been so strangely intimate for years, as childhood friends and through their letters, that sometimes Alice forgot that they'd only ever kissed once, through tears at her mother's funeral. And now that she'd returned they'd just melted into each other's lives as if there'd been no distance or years separating them.
They went on dates nearly every other day, though neither of them acknowledged that that was what they were doing. They walked around Brooklyn at night, rubbing their hands in the cold and talking for hours. On one of these nights, Alice reached out to take Steve's hand. It was small and cold in the night air, but it felt like she'd just grasped a lifeline or a burning beacon. Steve returned her grasp tentatively, and as they continued to walk their entwined fingers grew warm against the cold.
When she wasn't with Steve or Carter, Alice followed the war in the papers and on the radio. From what she could tell, the Nazis were spreading ever further. Even in Brooklyn the papers weren't optimistic about the Allies' chances, despite US forces finally landing in Britain. Alice itched to get back, but then she'd sit down at a table with Steve and it all melted away. He was dangerous.
On an empty field outside Brooklyn, Carter started training Alice in demolitions. Shortly afterwards they began combat training: they started with non-artillery weapons. Carter pointed out on Alice's body the best places to stab a man to ensure instant death (her cold fingertip against Alice's ribs felt startlingly like the sharp point of a knife), how to use the contents of a standard office desk to maim, kill, and restrain, and how to conceal a weapon under an evening gown.
Alice didn't mind this training, though the idea of killing a man (however frankly Carter put it) made her feel queasy. It was when Carter brought out a parachute pack and began explaining each component that Alice balked.
She was fine at first: she learned each part of the parachute pack and absorbed the safety briefings, filing mental notes alongside everything else she'd learned. "You'll need to know how to do a stealth drop if we ever need to send you into territory you can't get into through legitimate means." But then Carter had the driver take them out to an airfield attached to a New Jersey military base, and Alice's stomach dropped. She'd never flown before.
She didn't say a word. She followed Carter onto a tiny biplane with a pilot who didn't so much as look over his shoulder at them, and gripped her seat with white knuckles as they took off. The plane terrified her, with its bumps and judders and how it made her teeth rattle in her skull and her stomach swoop with every pocket of turbulence.
When they glided over the bare farm field it was almost a relief to dive out of the metal contraption. Alice screamed for the 15 seconds it took for her to land (she had to train to jump at low heights to avoid radar detection), and despite her training still stumbled and fell when her jelly-legs connected with the grass below. She hastily bundled up her chute with shaking fingers, buried it as per her training, and jogged out of the field.
When giving her report back at the warehouse, Alice didn't admit to her terror. Carter would just make her do it again.
The next day, Carter took her to a shooting range. It was part of another SSR installation, if the suited men with the look of agents walking down the corridor outside were any indication. It was a narrow, long room with a firing range and armory, lit by bright yellow lights. Alice listened attentively as Carter took her through the array of artillery on the wall; from pistols to submachine guns.
After an hour of discussing each weapon, Carter had Alice take down a Luger P08 ("since that's what the Nazis will be carrying") and approach the range. Alice held the gun pointed downward, the way Carter had demonstrated for her, as Carter set up a target (not a piece of paper, like Alice had expected, but a full-size mannequin on a butcher's hook) and talked her through firing discipline.
"We'll practice the usual firing stance today, but in the field you likely won't have time for that. Tomorrow I'll teach you how to fire from your hip – far more discreet. When you discharge a weapon, be sure to fire not one but two shots, to be sure of your target."
Alice nodded mutely, trying to get used to the feeling of the cold metal in her hands.
Carter opened her mouth to deliver another instruction when the door opened, letting in a spill of golden light and three nicely-suited men. They were laughing as they entered, and when they looked up to see Agent Carter standing a few paces away from the armed Alice, their eyebrows lifted. Their smiles became more lopsided, colder.
"Gentlemen," Carter acknowledged, then turned back to Alice. "As I was saying, your main goal is to quickly and efficiently remove a target, then remove yourself from the area. For now we'll focus on hitting the target."
The men by the entrance had filtered in, hands in their pockets. The tallest one, a man with silky blonde hair and a grey tie, shot a smile Alice's way.
"You sure you're alright there, Agent Carter?"
Alice saw Carter's eyes roll before she turned to face the men again. "We're quite alright, thank you Agent Smith."
He spread his hands with a white-toothed smile. "Just hoping your friend there gets all the training she needs, that's all. Wouldn't want any shots going astray."
Alice thought fondly about where she'd like her shots to go.
Carter did not visibly react. "I'm sure-"
Agent Smith leaned over to address Alice. "That's a mighty large caliber for a lady, wouldn't want the kickback hurting you." Alice kept her weapon in the 'safe' position, blank-faced. It was a handgun, not a cannon. The man jerked his head at the rack of weapons. "Want to try something a little more suitable, miss?"
"Agent," Carter corrected, her voice crisp.
Without speaking a word Alice swiveled back to her target, raised the pistol, sighted, and let loose. She made sure to keep her feet steady and grip firm, so as not to let the kickback even ruffle her, and kept both eyes open as she emptied her magazine. The gunshots were a violent shock to the relative hush of the range. When she'd spent each bullet she disassembled the pistol, set it down and shadowed her eyes to get a look at the target.
She could tell even from where she stood that she'd hit the target's chest every time. Not an exact bullseye, but if that target were a man he'd have breathed his last.
Alice turned to face Carter and the men with a calm face. They stared at her with varying degrees of shock written across their faces.
She made sure to address her question to Carter directly, cocking her head: "Should I try something more suitable?"
Carter didn't smile, but her hawk-eyed expression radiated delight. She turned to the men. "Gentlemen?"
Shock turned to embarrassment, and Agent Smith muttered "We'll be getting out of your way. Good show, ladies." The three men turned tail and went back the way they came.
When the door swung shut, Carter turned on her heel and strode back toward Alice. She was normally so hard to read, but Alice could now see the other woman hiding a laugh. For a few moments, silence filled the range. Alice's ears rang from the gunshots.
Finally, with her eyes on the still-swinging target, Carter spoke. "You didn't tell me you could shoot."
"I was about to. My old priest taught me on Saturdays."
Carter cocked an eyebrow. "I don't remember that part of religious services."
Alice shrugged. "We do things differently in Brooklyn."
"I'm beginning to see that." Carter finally did smile at that, and she gestured to the dismantled gun. "Again."
That evening in her hotel room after having dinner with Steve at a diner, Alice got a call from the front desk.
"You've got a call from a Private James Buchanan Barnes, miss-"
"Oh! Put him through, please."
A moment later the line clicked, whirred, and then Bucky's familiar drawl flowed through: "'Evening, troublemaker. Is Brooklyn still standing?"
"I make no promises," Alice smiled as she leaned back in her chair.
Alice and Bucky talked for hours. Bucky bitched about his training (as much as he was allowed to), and Alice told him about Brooklyn and what she and Steve had been up to. She was startled at how similar Bucky's training was to hers – he moaned about his taskmaster commanders, about having to shut up and do as he was told, about the slogs over fields carrying heavy equipment, and the do-or-die attitude. She couldn't commiserate with him though, so she just teased him about his complaints to make him laugh.
He changed topics abruptly. "Give that idiot a hug for me, Al."
She smiled at the phone. "I know what you're doing."
"What am I doing?" he said innocently. "Just want the guy to get some affection, that's all."
"Mmhm."
"And, y'know, while you're at it, if you felt like layin' one on him-"
Without a word of warning Alice hung up on him, a smile still curling her lips.
At an Army camp a state away, Bucky laughed into the night air when the operator informed him that the call had been dropped. "Cold, Alice," he laughed. He'd expect nothing less.
After weapons training came hand-to-hand combat back at the abandoned warehouse. Carter, in her typical fashion, was brutally honest about it all. After running through some basic self defense techniques, which mostly involved Carter trying to strangle Alice while Alice fended her off, Carter said:
"If it comes to a fight, we're not banking on you surviving for long. I'm going to teach you how to kill fast, and hard. Ready?"
"Yes," Alice said, because there was no other acceptable answer.
Carter nodded briskly, then raised her hands into a boxing position. Alice imitated her, eyes focused. She recalled what she'd learned from Bucky and Steve years ago: chest forward, push off the back foot. Hands up. "Good. You're not strong, or at least nowhere near as strong as your likely opponent, so don't waste time beating your fists against them. You need a single, focused strike to a specific point." She launched forward and Alice dodged to the side; but Carter slid right past Alice and slammed the edge of her hand down on the back of her right upper arm.
Alice yelped and skidded away, but couldn't bring up her guard again because her right arm had gone strangely numb and tingly, like pins and needles. Thankfully, Carter ceased her attack.
"Ow," Alice said, rubbing her arm to regain some feeling. "I guess that's part of the lesson?"
"A strong strike to that point will numb your enemy's arm long enough for you to kill them, or flee. If you hit hard enough, it could cause a heart attack."
Alice's hand on her arm stilled. "How did you know it wouldn't cause a heart attack in me?"
Carter flapped a hand at her. "You're young, healthy, it's very unlikely. Besides, I didn't hit you very hard."
Alice's arm was still numb. "Okay…"
Carter stepped back into Alice's space and tapped her chest, just above her abdomen and just below her ribcage. "No need to look so scared. This is called your solar plexus. A hard strike here will wind your enemy and send a shock to their heart. A strong enough blow can kill."
Her finger moved up to Alice's throat just above her collarbone.
"I know this one," Alice said, feeling her skin prickle under Carter's red-painted nail. "Punch it and they can't breathe."
Carter nodded but didn't take her eyes off Alice's face or her finger off her throat. "If you hit it hard enough you can crush the cartilage of the throat, and your enemy will die of asphyxiation."
"Oh."
The finger moved up to the corner of Alice's jaw and pushed slightly against the bundle of nerves and muscles there. "A strike here will cause head pain, stomach trouble, disorientation, and hopefully unconsciousness. If you hit it hard enough-"
"It can kill," Alice finished. Her skin crawled, but she knew she wouldn't forget a word of this.
"Good. The head is full of weak points. If you don't have any weapons, your hands can be just as deadly. Use the hard edge bones of your hands." Carter demonstrated by bringing the edge of her hand against Alice's temple, barely touching. "The skull is thinnest at your temple, and it covers a major artery in the head – the Maoris of the Pacific once made weapons specifically designed to crush this part of the skull. Follow their example. That's the strike I'd go for if I only had one chance. And lastly…" Carter stepped behind Alice to drop her fist gently on the crown of her head. "A good solid whack here will deliver a nice concussion."
Alice nodded, and Carter took a pace away to give her her space back. Alice swiveled to face her.
"Have you ever had to use any of this?"
Carter's eyes shadowed. "Yes."
Alice swallowed. "Did it work?"
"Yes."
"Good." She clenched her jaw. "I've… had a few close calls. Knowing how to… yes. Good." She nodded firmly, trying not to think about the fact that knowing all this surely must change a person. She'd already changed so much, nearly beyond recognition, what was one more terrible thing?
Carter gestured to the desk at the other end of the room, and they both strode over to sit down and sip from the water glasses there. For a few long minutes nothing was said. Alice listened to the soft whisper of the wind outside the warehouse, and the steady sound of Carter's breathing, and her own heel tapping against the floor.
When she leaned back in her chair, she realized Carter was watching her. She had a strange look on her face – not displeased, or measuring, but… solemn.
"Alice," Carter began, and Alice instantly straightened. Carter never called her by her first name, only ever 'Agent Homer', or occasionally when they were sure they were alone, 'Moser'. "I need to make something very clear to you, as soon as possible."
"Alright," Alice murmured.
Carter's eyes were dark and serious. "If your cover is broken and you cannot escape, it is your duty to give up your life before allowing yourself to be captured."
Alice let out a long, slow breath. She'd known this was coming, but having it spoken aloud still made her heart pound.
Carter continued: "This is to ensure that our tactical secrets are not uncovered, and that our mission is not compromised. Everyone breaks at some point or another under torture, and if you break you will put dozens of fellow spies, resistance members and allies at risk. Do you understand?"
Alice's eyes burned. "I do."
Carter eyed her closely; measuring, assessing. But there was feeling in her gaze as well. "Thank you," she eventually murmured. "Now I understand that this is morbid, but I must train you in this. I'm going to teach you how to kill yourself."
Leslie Ferndadez, SOE Agent Instructor:
During training we attempted to prepare them physically, building up their stamina by hikes through rough countryside. All were taught close combat, which gave them confidence even if most were not very good at it. These girls weren't commando material. They didn't have the physique though some had tremendous mental stamina.
You would not expect well brought up girls to go up behind someone and slit their throats, though if they were grappled, there were several particularly nasty little tricks that we handed on, given us by the Shanghai police.
...
There was a tendency in SOE at the beginning to dismiss the potential of young women but it increasingly became evident that survival did not just require physical toughness but the ability to live a cover story - which women could excel at.
Alice was sitting on the stoop outside Steve's building when he returned home from work.
Carter had been kind about it, but after a long afternoon of learning how to take her own life Alice felt bone-tired and frustratingly weepy. The idea of returning to her sterile, cookie-cutter hotel room made her throat close up, so she'd gotten on the train bound for Steve's.
She spotted him before he noticed her. He trudged down the sidewalk, his jacket and trousers crumpled and his hair falling in his eyes. He looked tired. But then he looked up and his pale blue eyes settled on her and his face seemed to light up within.
"Alice!" he called, already smiling.
Alice's heart stuttered at the sudden change in his whole bearing, at the quirk of his lips and the genuine joy in his eyes. All for me?
Steve seemed to notice her somber mood because his grin faded and he hurried his steps toward her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Alice sighed. Nothing I can tell you. "Do you mind… can I…?" She looked up at the building.
"Of course!" Steve said, the perk back in his voice. "Come on up."
Alice asked Steve about his day as they walked up the stairs to his apartment, feeling a little guilty for not listening to the details but instead focusing on his voice. He unlocked the door, ushered her in, took her coat, and let her drop onto his couch as he went to boil the kettle on the stove.
Alice closed her eyes and let out a long breath. This room – this whole place – felt like safety, like being warm and normal. She didn't feel like Die Sirene or Agent Homer here. The sound of Steve clinking around in the kitchen very suddenly made her want to cry, and she wasn't sure why.
When he came back into the living room he sat on the couch beside her, his hands on his knees and his eyes concerned. Alice looked at him and wanted.
She let out a breath. "I don't want to scare you."
His expression warmed. "I told you once before, Alice. I ain't scared of you."
Alice's breath shivered in her chest and a smile crept up her lips. She wanted to protest: you don't know what I've done or who I'm becoming, but it didn't matter, because Steve had always understood everything she tried to hide. And fear had never stopped Steve Rogers before.
For a few long moments they sat in silence as the fear leached out of Alice's gut. She gradually attuned to a new feeling: warmth. It lit her up from within, sparked by the trust in Steve's eyes and his nearness on the couch. She found herself leaning against the couch cushions, watching him. He had a furrow in his brow.
Steve cleared his throat. "You know, I've… I've thought a lot about what happened." His hands flexed on his knees. "Before you left, I mean." His eyes flickered to the patch of carpet between the couch and the armchair, where once upon a time two flu-ridden teenagers had sat on the floor and talked about kissing.
Alice's sobriety lifted a little at his evident nerves, and her eyes glinted. "To what are you referring?"
His ears burned. "Alice."
She made an ah sound. "Oh, you mean when we-" she broke off because he'd leaned in closer, eyes darting across her face and then meeting her eyes, as if checking for something. The teasing glint in Alice's eyes softened. She swayed in closer and smiled.
Steve reached up with a slightly trembling hand and touched her cheek. His fingers were cold but they set her skin alight. "Is this… is it alright-"
"Yes," she interrupted, suddenly intent.
She told herself: kiss him. But she didn't. Because it was Steve, brave Steve Rogers, who looked into her eyes as if he'd decided on something then slowly, gently, reached up to hold her other cheek, and pressed his lips against hers. He was there just a moment before he went to pull away, but then Alice grabbed him – his shoulder, the back of his head – and deepened the kiss. He took in a surprised breath through his nose but stopped pulling back. He leaned into her, his lips moving against hers and oh, that was nice.
Alice thought of hundreds of letters and hundreds of miles and hours and her head spun with it all, that she was able to do this and the world hadn't ended. The war and Germany and Austria and all the people she knew dissolved away.
Steve's thumb stroked across the shell of her ear and then down her jaw, as if tracing out her edges.
When Alice pulled away her heart was pounding.
She opened her mouth to say Steve Rogers, I think I'm in love with you, but he just grinned and leaned in to kiss her again, and she had no objection to that at all.
When the boiling kettle began to shriek in the kitchen Steve darted away to pull it off the hob. He returned with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, and the sight of it made Alice laugh.
Steve opened his mouth, staring at her, then closed it again.
Alice smiled, opened her mouth… and then closed it as well.
They both burst out laughing: Steve in the doorway to the kitchen with his hair sticking up at odd angles (did I do that? Alice wondered) and Alice half draped over the back of the couch, nearly gasping at the feeling of happiness swelling in her chest.
Alice laughed into her hand. "You'd think we'd have lots to say to each other," she noted.
Steve pushed his hair back, still smiling as if he couldn't turn it off. "I… I…"
"I know," she finished fondly. She pushed off the couch and paced across the carpet towards him. His dark, watchful eyes followed her as she approached, then glinted when she threw her arms around his neck and leaned in to press her lips to his once more. It was a strange feeling, awkward even, but when Steve's hand – warm, now – landed on her waist she wanted to sink into him.
She was almost three inches taller than him now they were both grown, and Alice supposed they didn't exactly look like the embracing couples on the movie posters, but she frankly didn't care what they looked like with the way Steve tilted his head to slot his mouth against hers and the way his fingers curled and caught against the side of her dress, as if pulling her closer. A second later his hand tensed and sprang away from her side as if it'd been electrocuted. Alice smiled into the kiss.
Steve pulled back, his eyes shadowed from his closeness to Alice. Alice took the opportunity to admire his face close-up in a way she'd had very opportunities to do before. His sharp, serious jaw felt warm under her palm. His lips were slightly parted, pretty as any picture, and his eyes under his dark brows were wide and a little overwhelmed. Alice reached up to smooth her thumb up his forehead and then across one brow, flattening out the tension there.
She was just wondering how long Steve would let her stay like that, her eyes roving over his face and her fingers tracing, admiring, when he cleared his throat and said in a rough voice:
"We should go for a walk."
Alice's lips quirked. "Alright."
They slid into their coats and walked down the street to the park they used to play at as children. Steve took Alice's hand the moment they stepped out the front door. his fingers weaving between hers. When she glanced over at him, the tips of his ears were red.
At the park they settled on a bench and kissed some more. They weren't very good at it at first, which was kind of sad for a pair of twenty-three year olds, but they figured it out quickly. Kissing in the cold air was a new kind of thrill, a constant flow between warm lips, cold fingers, pounding hearts and a waft of freezing air down the back of the neck.
When an old lady cleared her throat at them with a disgusted look on her face, they went to catch a film. Alice had no idea what the film was about or what it was even called, because she and Steve sat at the very back in the dark like they would have years ago as teenagers, and kissed some more. Steve was so hesitant each time he leaned in toward her, checking that each touch and press of lips was okay. She loved the feel of his hand curved around the back of her head and how he carded his fingers through her hair, loved the earnest way he kissed her as if it were the most important thing he'd do in his life, and how his breath hitched when she curled her fingers into his collar.
The actors' voices were crisp and smoothing, and the music swelled. At the end of the movie Alice was pressed against Steve's narrow, slender-limbed body and she could feel his heart thundering in his chest, almost as fast as hers. The kissing turned slow and tender, as if they had all the time in the world.
~ All the time in the world ~
My, my.
The first excerpt about SOE training came from a real BBC history online article, and the following excerpt about female spies is from a book currently sitting on my bedside table, The Women Who Lived For Danger by Marcus Brinney. I went in for a healthy dose of real-life quotes for this chapter.
Also I just saw Jojo Rabbit and I cannot recommend it highly enough! I adore everything Taika Waititi makes but this was a really spectacular film.
Don't forget to review!
Reviews
Guest: Bonjour Merci beaucoup! Je suis très reconnaissant que vous ayez aimer ma fic même via google translate. Merci d'avoir leer et de votre merveilleux commentaire. Avoir un merveilleux week-end! (J'ai écrit thsi avec google translate, excuses pour toute erreur)
Guest: Still a few chapters to go before we hit movie timeline, but I promise we're super close! We will be more MCU-heavy from here on out though.
Guest: I'm so glad you're excited and happy for Steve and Alice, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter!
