Chapter Two: Tequila
After her first week with her doors open for business, Rebecca decided all the TV shows and movies depicting P.I. work as glamorous was full of crap. Several people had come in to see her, the most interesting being a young college student trying to find her father who had abandoned her when she was six, but the majority of the people who hired her wanted proof of their cheating spouses.
"It's kind of depressing this many people cheat on each other," Rebecca complained to Sam over drinks at a bar close to her apartment, called Archer's. "Do vows really mean nothing anymore? Why even bother getting married?"
"Depends on the person taking them, I think." Sam took a sip of his beer, a local brew they had on tap. "Hey, cheating spouse cases are a P.I.'s bread and butter."
"Great, I stalk pay by the hour motels to pay my bills. I used to chase real criminals across the globe." Rebecca rolled her eyes, then sat back against the chair of the high top table they sat at. "So while I'm glad you called to hang out tonight, I figured you'd be out trying to score a second date with the front desk girl you've been hot for."
Sam groaned and ran a hand over his face at the mention of his love interest. "You know how people say when something seems too good to be true, it probably is? They are right."
Rebecca couldn't help but laugh, her curiosity piqued at his reaction. "What happened?"
"The date was going great you know? She's cute, she's has a great sense of humor, we are having a good back and forth conversation then we get to the restaurant." He began to explain. "She's having trouble finding anything to order. So our waitress asks if she's vegan."
"Is she?" Rebecca liked a good steak from time to time herself, so she never fully understood people who could live off a plant-based diet by choice instead of for health reasons.
"No, and I would have probably been ok with it if she was." Sam shook his head. "She's a Rawist."
"What the hell is a Rawist?" Now she was utterly confused, having never heard the term in her life.
"She only eats raw food. Doesn't believe in eating meat, or anything cooked." Sam informed her. "She must exist solely on salads."
"Wait, she literally only eats raw fruits and vegetables? How does she survive?" She gaped at him in surprise. "I would be hungry and pissed off all the time."
"That was probably why she thought I was the devil incarnate for ordering a steak," He shrugged helplessly. "Because she was hungry."
"People are so weird." Rebecca mused with an astounded shake of her head. "Sorry, Sam I know you were really into her. Hopefully, the next woman you take on a date turns out better."
"Eh, guess it just wasn't meant to be." He waved off her sympathy. "At least the band is good tonight, the drinks are strong and I'm in much better company."
"I like steak." She grinned. "And cooked food in general."
"Thank God!"
"Can I get you guys another round?" Their waitress checked in on them just as Sam's phone went off with an incoming text message.
"Yes, he needs it," Rebecca answered for him.
"Better add a third beer to that," Sam added, smiling down at his phone. "We're about to have company."
"Not your new rawist girlfriend, I hope?" She teased as their waitress left to carry out their order. "Because the evidence of our devoured chicken wings is still on the table."
"Don't you start getting sassy with me about that," Sam warned her with a smirk. "One day you'll have a terrible date and payback will be a bitch."
"That would require me to actually date, Wilson." Rebecca reminded him smugly. "I'm happily single, thank you very much."
"Yeah, and you just ran out of excuses for that since your P.I. business is up and running and you no longer work for S.H.I.E.L.D. It's time to put yourself back out there." Sam teased her. "No time like the present. We're in a bar."
"Jeez! First Nora, now you." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "When will you all realize Becky don't need no man!" She snapped her fingers dramatically making Sam laugh.
"Clearly I came in at the wrong part of this conversation."
Rebecca twisted in her seat at the sound of the voice speaking from behind her. The deeper, more masculine tenor it carried an obvious sign that it was not their returning waitress.
"Steve!" She exclaimed in surprise, the beginnings of a pleased smile curving the corners of her mouth as she dropped her playful demeanor. "You're back!"
Steve Rogers stood casually behind her chair, looking very much like every other male bar patron in a simple t-shirt and jeans, though he arguably filled them out better with his six-foot frame that was kept in peak physical condition. He offered them both a smile but the shadows under his blue eyes hinted at his exhaustion.
"Hey Man!" Sam got up to greet him with one of those handshakes pulled into a hug gestures men like to use.
Rebecca skipped the handshake and went straight for the hug when they separated. "It's good to see you."
Steve held her against him for a moment before releasing her. "You guys too. Am I interrupting something?"
"Not at all," Sam assured him. "You're saving me from Beck's sass."
Rebecca grinned in response. "Someone has to keep Sam humble." She gestured to the empty chair at their table. "Come join us, Sam already ordered you a beer."
"Thanks." He lowered his frame onto the stool and waited for them to retake their seats before speaking again. "I take it there's nothing new since the last time I spoke to you both."
"My leads went cold, Man," Sam told him apologetically.
"Same, I'm working on it though," Rebecca assured him, knowing how important it was to him. "As soon as we find something new, we'll let you know. How's everything in New York?"
"Hit a dead end." Steve sighed, running a hand through his short blonde hair. "Bruce and Tony are in the lab researching, Nat's hitting her own network of resources and Thor, well-" He shrugged, not knowing how to explain the Norse God's course of action. "Hawkeye and I are left twiddling our thumbs until something new pops up. I figured I'd come back here, check in with you two."
"You're welcome to crash at my place," Sam offered. "I've got a spare bedroom. I'm not sure how you left things with your apartment."
"I don't really have one here anymore. S.H.I.E.L.D. arranged it for me when I signed on and then-" He trailed off as they all knew what happened next. "Stark Tower is home for the time being. I appreciate the room."
"What are friends for," Sam assured him. "You should check out Beck's new office while you're in town, it'll only take you two seconds it's the size of a closet."
"Stop!" Rebecca laughed, tossing one of the napkins left on the table at him.
"Are you up and running then?" Steve asked her, ignoring Sam's joking barb and giving her a curious smile.
"Got my license a month ago, found an office space and opened doors this week. I even have a couple of cases, though they're nothing exciting. Most trying to catch married couples having affairs." She informed him. "Still, it's a start."
"That's great! Congratulations." There was nothing but sincerity in Steve's tone and it made her smile genuinely in response.
"We need shots." Sam decided suddenly. "We're all here, together, not currently risking our lives. We should celebrate."
"I only do tequila shots. Patron preferably." Rebecca shook her finger at Sam. "And if I get drunk we will shut this place down because you will not get me off that dance floor."
Sam started laughing. "That's not a warning Callahan. That's an incentive."
"I can't actually get drunk," Steve told them with a shrug. "So I guess I can make sure we all make it home."
"You can't get drunk at all?" Rebecca asked him incredulously.
"One of the side effects of the serum," Steve explained. "My metabolism is so fast it counteracts the effect of alcohol almost immediately."
"So he's never at risk for getting fat either." Rebecca scoffed. "That is so unfair. He could eat 20 pizzas and drink the bar and not gain an ounce."
"Then I guess Beck and I will be the only ones making asses of ourselves." Sam chuckled at her dramatics. "Tequila shots it is." He lifted a hand to flag down their waitress. "Let's have some fun."
"Sir?" Maria Hill knocked hesitantly on the door of Nick Fury's office. The only remaining S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier was currently docked outside Madrid, Spain and was quiet for the evening.
"Hill." Nick looked up from the tablet he'd been browsing through and nodded to show his permission for her to enter the space.
"We just got some news from Dublin." Maria's expression appeared to neutral and detached to anyone who didn't know her well, but Nick recognized her minor facial ticks that gave away her distaste.
"What kind of news?" Nick prompted, setting the tablet aside to give her his full attention.
"Declan O'Riley had been released from Bright Light and was on a transport to Portlaoise Prison but the IRA intercepted the transport. Took out the drivers and the guards escorting it." Hill didn't flinch when Fury slammed his fist on the desk.
"Tell me, he's not in the wind, Hill?" Fury growled out. "Tell me, Declan O'Riley did not escape."
"I'm sorry Sir," Maria shook her head. "Declan O'Riley is officially listed as an escaped convict and presumed to be back among the IRA and resuming his duties as a Captain."
"Damn it." Nick hissed out a breath. "Who ordered his removal from Bright Light? Who thought that was a good idea?"
"Agent Everett Ross, Sir. He cited in his report that he felt Declan O'Riley no longer had any valuable information."
"And played right into the IRA's hands. We need to find him, Hill and fast." Fury ordered. "He just became our number one priority. A lot of people will die if he is back in power. And we need to warn his first target."
"I'll get word to Callahan," Maria assured him.
"That kid has been through enough." Nick sighed. "This is the last thing she needs."
Pete Wisdom was growing to despise his job. He'd joined the Black Air with good intentions, but lately, every assignment he'd been given was a wetwork. The target Scicluna had sent him that morning was an Irish woman currently living in America. A reason why had not been given. As he poured over the file, he couldn't help the uneasy feeling in his gut.
Rebecca Callahan 'ne O'Riley. Age 29. Hair dark brown, eyes green. Located in Washington, D.C. occupation as a Private Investigator. Formerly an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nothing stood out about this woman being dangerous. Unless she'd been associated with HYDRA and the Black Air had discovered it but it didn't say so in her file. It was basic information assigned as a wetwork when Shrine had dropped it off.
"Good looking Bird though," Pete mused to himself, studying the candid photo that had come along with the file.
Rebecca Callahan was an unassuming beauty. She wasn't a knockout that a man noticed as soon as he walked into a room. She was more understated, someone noticed after rounds of the room had been made and one had settled in for the conversation. When looked at properly, a man would notice the smooth angles of her face, the dreamy deep-set eyes, wonder what all that dark hair looked like free from its ponytail.
Pete would have to snuff the life out of her and the thought made him ill. "Bloody hell."
Rebecca Callahan was beautiful.
The thought made Steve a little uncomfortable as he watched her dance around the hardwood floor in form-fitting jeans and a Serotta t-shirt. Her dark hair tumbled in waves around her smiling face, making her appear softer, more alluring. And for a moment he wished he knew how to dance in order to be out there with her because he wasn't the only man who'd noticed.
It wasn't the first time Steve had noticed either but it was the first time he truly recognized the draw he'd always felt towards Rebecca since the day she'd stepped off that elevator outside Pierce's office; attraction.
They'd been so busy running and fighting for their lives after they'd met it'd been easy to ignore it. But looking at her now, a little drunk and happy on the dancefloor, he couldn't deny it.
When he'd woken up from his ice coma and came to terms with how many years had passed, Steve had to grieve the loss of what could have been with Peggy. Peggy Carter was not a woman easily forgotten. Even visiting her in the retirement home had stirred his memories of the sharp, fearless British spy determined to do good in the world. Steve had thought he'd found the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with. Instead, he'd woken up to find she'd lived that life without him, married a man named Daniel Sousa, had children, founded S.H.I.E.L.D. and left her mark on the world.
And even though Natasha had been urging Steve to date, the simple fact was that there was no one like Peggy and he'd been resigned to accept his eternal bachelorhood.
Until Rebecca.
Peggy and Rebecca had a lot in common on the surface. Neither were American, though her training at S.H.I.E.L.D. had mostly erased Rebecca's Irish accent. Both were determined to do the right thing and help people. They both were excellent shots with a sidearm, brave in the face of danger and didn't take crap from anyone. But where Peggy had been impulsive and occasionally prone to fits of passion, Rebecca was more reserved and calculating. Peggy hadn't been afraid to cut a man down to size with a tongue lashing, Rebecca did it through her actions. Peggy was stubborn where Rebecca was open to suggestion and Peggy had commanded attention while Rebecca conformed to her surroundings.
"Steve, come dance!" He was shaken out of his thoughts when she slid right in front him, smiling and holding her hand out in invitation.
He cleared his throat. "I don't really dance, Beck."
"At all?" Confusion flashed across her features.
"I don't really know how." He admitted, not wanting to disappoint her. "No one wants to dance with the little guy and then the War, and now…" He trailed off. "I've just never had the right partner."
"Oh." Understanding dawned in her green eyes and he watched her take a mental step back. "Well then…"
"Maybe you could teach me, sometime?" No one was more surprised than Steve when the words slipped out of his mouth. It hadn't been what he'd meant to say, but the last thing in the world he had wanted to do was push her away. He couldn't even blame it on the tequila since the alcohol had no lasting effect on him.
She looked surprised for a moment, then she smiled again and the angles of her face softened and his heart twisted. "Sure.
"We need another round!" And just like that, Sam's arrival broke the magic of the moment and Rebecca elbowed him playfully in the ribs.
"You're going to be carrying me out of here." She protested.
"I think we'll be carrying Sam at the rate he's going," Steve assured her with a chuckle.
"Lies!" Sam jabbed his finger in Steve's direction. "Just because I can actually get drunk unlike some people, doesn't mean I'm actually drunk!"
Rebecca let out a peal of laughter and Steve's heart did another twist in his chest. "You're right, he's definitely going to be the one carried out."
"Traitor!"