Chapter Nine
Emily tried to keep a discreet distance as she followed Steve and his date through the crowds. It was easier than she expected, given that she wasn't the sneakiest person ever, but then again Steve hadn't yet gotten his overdeveloped sixth sense of when people were following him.
As much as she wanted to talk to him, Em knew that she needed to keep her distance. She'd seen one too many movies involving time travel to take that chance. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally change history. She'd still yet to figure out what was going on, but using an abundance of caution as to not alter anything seemed the best course of action.
The woman hanging off of Bucky was thoroughly enjoying herself, but the blonde Steve was with acted like being around him was as painful as a root canal. It took a lot of self-restraint not to walk over and loop her arm through his - she remembered Steve telling her about how embarrassed he was by how the woman acted (although he hadn't been able to remember her name) and Bucky setting him up on yet another blind date.
It was a bit harder for her to keep track of them as they joined a larger crowd, and for a moment she thought her spying was over when Steve somehow managed to slip away until he returned with a bag of peanuts in hand, which he offered to his date; she apparently took offense to it and sneered as she turned away to watch the exhibit.
Which, of course, turned out to be Howard Stark.
OOO
Steve knew this wasn't going to be a standard debriefing the minute he stepped into Pierce's office. After declining a drink, they got down to it and his suspicions were confirmed.
After the Battle of Manhattan and his road trip, he'd started training with S.H.I.E.L.D. They'd taught him new fighting styles and how to do some rudimentary computer hacking, things they'd thought he could use in the field. Sitwell, who had taken over for Coulson as Steve's day-to-day contact, had been surprised when he'd asked to sit in on the new recruits' training on questioning prisoners.
"You won't be asked to do any of that," he'd said, unable to hide his smirk. "And I'm sure you can think of some effective ways of getting them to talk - without the interrogation training."
But he'd stuck to his guns and sat in on the course, which is why he recognized Pierce's tactic right away: establish a relationship (a casual drop of his father fighting with the 101st Airborne division), create an informal setting (he'd removed his jacket and offered a drink), remind him of his position of authority (having the meeting just steps from where he conducted meetings with the World Council), bring up his history with Fury (the story about saving his daughter was a bit heavy handed, but got the job done), and finally to launch into the actual questions.
As a politician, Pierce had gotten use to wrangling truths out of people. And it was clear from his approach that he was usually successful.
"Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?" Pierce asked.
Steve studied him for a moment before looking away, shaking his head slightly, and lying, "I don't know."
"You know it was bugged?"
"I did, because Nick told me." It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if they'd heard anything worth the trouble.
"He tell you he was the one who bugged it?" It was Pierce's turn to study him, but Steve kept his face purposely blank; he'd come to that conclusion sometime during the night. Truth be told, he was somewhat angry with himself for not realizing that living under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s roof would have come with some surveillance - it made him even happier that he and Emily had moved out of the New York headquarters, and he made a mental note to randomly sweep their new place whenever they found it.
Apparently recognizing that the line of questioning wasn't going to work, Pierce changed tactics and brought up the live interrogation of Batroc.
Pierce explaining how the Algerian merc had been hired to hijack the Lemurian Star by a Joseph Beech.
"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Steve asked.
"Not likely; Beech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive," Pierce informed him as Steve flipped through the file the analysts had compiled. There was detailed information on the seventeen fake accounts Beech had routed the money through, but it didn't provide much information on why he'd done it. Distracted, he hadn't realized that Pierce was about to play his last card. "When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437."
"Are you saying Fury hired the pirates?" Steve asked. "Why?"
"The prevailing theory is that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. Sale went sour, and that lead to Nick's death."
That theory didn't sit well with what Steve knew of Nick Fury. For all of his faults, he'd never been traitor. Untrustworthy? Overzealous? Overly cautious while willing to work outside the standard operating procedure? Sure but...he couldn't imagine the former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. being so careless as allowing banking transactions to be routed back so easily to a childhood connection unless there was a reason for it.
"If you really knew Nick Fury," he finally said, "You'd know that's not true."
"Why do you think we're talking?" Pierce asked before standing.
OOO
Distracted by Howard's levitating car, Emily nearly missed Steve slipping away. As it was, she only noticed he was gone when Bucky turned to say something to him. Realizing what was happening - because Steve had told her where he'd gone - Emily hurried away from the demonstration and towards the recruiting center.
"Miss Harthorn," Dr. Erskine called as he stepped out of the recruitment building. Emily, who had been watching as Steve looked at his reflection in a recruitment poster, started. He lifted his hand and waved, quickly walking towards her.
"Hello," she said, starting towards him as Bucky strode past her, his eyes fixed on Steve. Em felt the blood draining from her face as Erskine walked past the two and sped up to meet him. They ended up standing mere feet from where Steve was arguing with Bucky.
"Not planning on trying again, are you?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Sorry?"
"Colonel Phillips has told me of your bargain," Erskine gave her a look of mock solemnity. "Your current role in our plan for a future position with him in the SSR."
"Right," Em nodded, glancing over at Steve and Bucky again. "That bargain." Erskine followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow.
"Your date for the evening?"
"What? No," she said, blushing slightly. After all, Steve didn't know her from a stranger on the street at this point.
He hummed and put on his hat before gesturing her to proceed him down the stairs. "Shall we go find Miss Miller?"
The blood drained from Emily's face as Steve watched Bucky leave before turning and walking into the recruitment center. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Erskine had written in his journals about overhearing the two friend's conversation, and how that had led him to investigating the "unusual young man" who would become Captain America.
But her being there - her very presence - had changed that.
Em started to feel a bit light headed as she started to think of the ramifications of this. The war effort aside, what would happen to Steve? Her Steve - not the one standing feet away from her, but the one who wouldn't walk past her like a stranger.
And he was out on assignment right now! Trying to figure out who had shot at them, who nearly killed Carter, who…
She stumbled slightly as the realization hit that, no, if this changed everything, Steve wouldn't be out on a mission. Because he would have died long before that night in Arlington.
A hand on her face brought Emily out of her thoughts, and she realized that she was being guided to lean against the wall. "Miss Harthorn? Miss Harthorn, are you alright?"
"I...I'm okay," she said, looking up to meet his gaze. Erskine reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her. She dabbed at her eyes until he motioned to his nose.
"You have some…"
"Stress reaction," she said softly, wiping away the blood under her nose. "It'll stop in a minute." He watched her with cautious eyes before shaking his head.
"The doctors will examine you."
"I swear I'm fine."
"They are just inside," he argued, offering a hand to help her up.
"I'll be…" Em trailed off, eyes darting towards the door as she realized that's exactly what she needed to do.
"I insist."
"Well, if you insist." Em gave him a weak smile and held his handkerchief to her nose as he ushered her into the building. After depositing her in an empty chair and instructing her to tip her head backwards, Dr. Erskine went to get a nurse.
She felt rather than saw someone sit next to her, as she had her eyes closed. But they snapped open when the person said, "You should lean forward. You'll get sick when the blood hits your stomach."
Steve turned away as soon as she turned to look at him, his attention back on the form in his lap.
OOO
Jumping out of a window and taking down a Quinjet wasn't exactly the subtle exit that he'd been hoping for.
Another jet was circling overhead, attempting to track him down as he tried to get away from the Triskelion. And it was doing a better job than he'd hoped it would. He paused for a moment to catch his breath as his hip gave a particularly nasty twinge - vibranium absorbed impact, but that hadn't kept the jolt of his exposed legs hitting the floor from traveling upwards - and to try and see where the jet was.
A slightly whistle was all the notice Steve had before an arrow embedded itself in the tree he was leaning on. He lurched to the side, trying to get out of the trajectory of the next one that he knew was coming. Having successfully avoided it, he spun around to see Clint pulling another arrow from his quiver. "Cap," he said, "you've gotta come back."
"You know that's not gonna happen, Clint." The bow didn't waver as he stalked closer, and Steve raised his shield just in case. "You can't think I had anything to do with Fury's death."
"Not my place to say," Clint replied. "Pierce issued a capture or kill order for you."
"Capture or kill? Bit extreme for a failed interrogation," Steve smirked.
"Don't make me shoot you, Steve. Pretty sure Nat won't be happy if I do that."
"Pretty sure she's not gonna be happy about you staying with them," he shot back, jerking his head towards the Triskelion. Overhead the Quinjet circled back, the downdraft causing the tree overhead to creak and groan.
Momentarily distracted, Steve hadn't caught Clint's move. The arrow deflected off the shield with a dull clang before he was right there, throwing a punch. Steve dodged it, unwilling to use the shield against his teammate lest he break his hand or arm. No matter what, Clint was under orders and Steve had to respect that.
They'd sparred before, when there had been free moments in both of their schedules and sitting still had driven them crazy. Though Steve had the advantage of strength and weight, Clint was more agile and knew how to use Steve's advantage against him. Which was why he knew Clint was holding back.
"What's going on?" Steve asked as he pinned him, an arm pressing against his throat. Clint freed a hand and used it to wrap around the back of Steve's neck, pulling him close to whisper in his ear.
"There's a tracker in your suit. Get rid of it and get the hell out of the city."
"A tracker?"
"Not sure where, but it's there. Ditch the suit and get back to New York." Suddenly Steve went ass over head as Clint flipped him, grunting as he hit the ground again. "Now you gotta do me a favor," Clint said as he jumped to his feet.
"What?" Steve asked, scrambling up as well.
"You gotta punch me, make it look real."
He hesitated half a moment before pulling back his fist. "I'm sorry about this."
"Don't be," Clint grinned. "How many people can say they saved Captain America's ass?"
OOO
"Sorry?" Emily asked.
"You'll, uh," Steve said, going slightly red around the ears. "Leaning backwards, you'll get sick."
"Oh, right," she said, blushing as she leaned forward slightly. "I knew that." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he caught her eye and then looked away again. "Thank you for the reminder."
"You're welcome." They sat in silence for the next few moments, the bustle of the building covering the scratching of Steve's pen as he filled out the form. Surreptitiously, she tried to see what he was writing, and whether or not he was lying about the medical problems he faced. From the little written, it was pretty obvious that he was choosing not to self report any of his ailments. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked up and gave her a crooked smile; blushing she returned it before looking down at her hands.
After a bit, Em pulled away the handkerchief and brushed her hand under her nose to see if it was still bleeding. Satisfied that it had stopped, she grabbed the makeup compact from her purse and started to clean herself up. She could see Steve watching her out of the corner of her eye as she wet the clean corner of the handkerchief on her tongue and dabbed at the dried blood with the aid of her mirror before applying a new layer of powder. It was so tempting to turn and introduce herself but she needed to resist the urge - granted, they wouldn't meet in person for another 70 years, but it could change something.
"Ma'am?" a woman in a nurse's uniform said, appearing before them. "If you would just follow me, we can get you looked at."
"Thank you, but it's not necessary," Emily sighed, holding up the handkerchief. "Nosebleed has stopped and I'm feeling better already."
"All the same, better safe than sorry," she smiled, crows feet decorating the corners of her eyes. Letting out a soft huff, Em stood and shook her head at Dr. Erskine, who was standing at the nurses station, watching the exchange. "Right this way, Ma'am." Emily glanced at Steve and gave him a slight smile before following the woman as a doctor called 'Rogers, Steven'.
"I'll wait for you here," Dr. Erskine said as she passed. "Ingrid would be very upset if something were to happen to one of our house guests."
The nurse was nice and very thorough. She asked Em about her general health before taking her vitals, and kindly made sure that the curtain was tightly drawn closed before having Em unbutton her jacket and top so that she could place her stethoscope on her bare back to listen to her lungs. As she was dressing again, the woman cleared her throat. "Your blood pressure is a bit high, which explains the lightheadedness that Dr. Erskine mentioned. Have you been diagnosed with high blood pressure?"
"No," Em replied. "My doctor gave me a clean bill of health the last time I visited her."
"Her?" she asked, smiling. "You have a woman doctor?"
"Of course."
"That's swell! Is she here in New York?"
"Yeah," Em frowned, wondering why this was such an interesting topic.
"I love the thought of women doctors," the nurse sighed before leaning towards her conspiratorily. "It'd be a lot easier talking about our womanly issues." She cast a conspiratorial look at Em's stomach and winked.
"Right," Em nodded, feeling slightly sad as she pressed a hand to her stomach. It seemed like ages ago that she had asked Steve to consider the possibility of having a baby.
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything the matter so I'd suggest you take it easy for a while."
"I will," she nodded, sliding off the exam table. "I promise." After saying goodbye, Em left the exam room and walked towards Dr. Erskine, who was flipping through a file. He was stroking his beard, and didn't look up as stood next to him. "Nothing wrong, as expected."
"Hmm?" he asked, glancing up. "Oh, right, Miss Harthorn. Everything is fine?"
"Yes," she said, trying to see what was so interesting. Erskine looked back down at the papers in the file before shaking his head.
"Did you happen to speak to the man who was here before?"
"Um… Just for a moment," Em replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
"What was your opinion of him?" her grandfather asked, closing the file and giving her his full attention.
"He seemed very nice. Very knowledgeable about how to avoid getting sick when you've got a nosebleed," she smirked.
"Hmm," he nodded. "Would you mind waiting one more moment for me?"
"Of course."
OOO
"Mmm," Darcy sighed as the sound of ceramic on soapstone. The hair covering her face was pushed away and fingers gently rubbed her scalp.
"Love," Carter said, "the machine is making a noise."
"Then stop it," she mumbled into her arms.
"I'm not sure how to, and I'm a bit intimidated to ask Dr. Foster as to how to do it." Smiling slightly, she turned to face him and forced one eye open.
"Jane intimidates you? Badass S.H.I.E.L.D. agent scared of tiny little Jane?"
"She's scary," he smirked. "He probably won't admit to it, but she almost had Tony near tears an hour ago. I haven't seen that since...actually I don't remember the last time I saw that." They glanced over at where Jane and Tony were working diligently; Jane had the panel of the machine responsible for making Em disappear off and was rooting around inside of it, while Tony was studying one of his hologram schematics.
"That's right," Darce yawned, leaning into his hand that was still stroking her hair. "I forgot you and Tony grew up together."
"That's being a bit generous with it, but we did know each other whilst growing up. Now, how do I get that machine to stop beeping?"
Groaning, Darcy pushed off of the lab stool she'd been sleeping on and stretched, her back making an audible 'pop'. Carter wrinkled his nose slightly and offered her the coffee he'd brought. After taking a tentative sip - and realizing that he'd doctored it just the way she liked, Darcy asked, "What time is it?"
"Just after ten. In the morning," he added when she raised her eyebrow. The lab, located in an interior room, lacked the natural light that would have told her if it was morning or evening. "Which puts you at three in the afternoon."
"Time differences are a bitch," she muttered over the rim of the coffee mug. "Not that staying awake on the plane and freaking out helps much with regulating a sleep schedule.
"Agreed. Now, the beeping?" Shaking her head, Darce brushed past him and towards the offending machine. After typing in the code (4268, because Jane thought it was clever to have a diamond star as the passcode), the hunk of metal fell silent.
"Grab me that laptop?" she asked, motioning to the battered computer by Carter's elbow. He did so, and she took a moment to savor another sip of coffee and roll a kink out of her neck before pulling up the data it had collated. "Readouts on what type of atmospheric disturbances were going on around here the other night," Darce supplied when he gave her a confused look.
"Atmospheric disturbances? Like when an Asgardian shows up?"
"Or Dark Elves," she shrugged. "Pretty much an inter-dimensional travel is gonna throw it off."
"Right," he nodded, sounding somewhat skeptical. "Couldn't we have just gotten this from the S.H.I.E.L.D. databases?"
"Who do you think they get their data from?" Darcy smirked. "Jane gave them one of the algorithms but she keeps tweaking it. And now, the fun part of my job starts."
"And what's that?"
"Statistical testing." When he looked confused again, she shrugged. "I'm basically going to use a stats program to make some formal models and run some data analysis to see if there's any huge spikes that are skewing the data. That could help us weed out some stuff."
"Okay…" Carter nodded. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Unless you took Poli Sci Research Methods and/or are proficient in using R, probably not," she shrugged, double clicking on an icon on the laptop's desktop. "But if you could convince one of the Wonder Twins to take a cat nap, that'd be appreciated."
"And how long does it take to learn this 'R' program?" he asked, looking skeptically at the two scientists who were intent on their work.
"I took a 15 week class and just scratched the surface. Good luck, buddy."
"Let me know if there is something I can do," Carter said seriously. "Even if it's just fetching you more coffee or running out for bagels."
"Oooh, bagels," Darce hummed, her fingers hovering over the keys.
OOO
Emily was trying not to tap her toes as she waited, anxious to see if things had gone according to plan. She'd seen the military police officer step out of the exam room Steve had been ushered into, but there was nothing to give her an indication as to what was going on.
Finally...finally, Erskine emerged. "Only a chance,"he said. Steve hurried out a moment later, jacket clutched in his hand.
"I'll take it," he said, desperation clear in his voice.
"Good." Her Opa looked up to meet her eyes for a moment as he lifted stamps and adjusted his glasses. "So where is the little guy from, actually?"
Steve hesitated a moment before replying, "Brooklyn." There was a sharp bang and a folder was deposited in his hand.
"Congratulations, Soldier," Erskine said, stepping around him. "Miss Harthorn? Shall we?"
"Yeah, sure," Em smiled, taking his offered arm. Steve was too entranced with the 1A stamp to notice, but as she glanced over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse of him, he looked up to meet her gaze and grinned. "Everything go well?" she asked as they stepped into the balmy night air.
"Yes," Erskine nodded before muttering under his breath, "Phillips will not agree, but he is the best I've seen."
"Oh?" Em tried to fight the smile tugging at her mouth.
"A discussion for another time," he said, patting her hand. "Now, where can we find the charming Miss Miller?"
"Hmm?" Em asked, pulling her eyes away from the recruitment center. "Miss...Oh, you mean Dottie? She's at the dance hall." Erskine looked at his watch and nodded.
"I'm going to go home to Ingrid. Would you like to join me, or return to your evening?"
Em felt a bit torn. On one hand, she wanted to spend some quality alone time with her grandparents but she was running on a bit of a high and wanted to see what else the Expo had to offer. Chewing on her lip, she glanced around but stopped when Erskine laughed.
"Enjoy your evening. Ingrid and I will see you both tonight."
"Okay," she smiled, squeezing his arm. "I'll make sure we're not out too late. Dottie and I have the midmorning train to catch, so there's always that to hold over her head."
"Of course. Have a good time." They parted ways, Em walking backwards for a few steps as she waved before turning and walking to the dance hall. The big band music drew her in, and Em found herself hurrying up.
The tent was a riot of noise and colors as the band played 'Bolero at the Savoy'. Humming along, Em skirted around the edge of the room looking for Dottie. She was just about to make a second circuit when she noticed her sitting at a table just off the dance floor. Jimmy and Richard were sitting on either side of her, but another man seemed to be holding court.
"Emily!" Dottie cried, jumping out of her seat as Em got closer and pulling her into a hug.
"Hi," she chuckled, a bit surprised by the display of affection. "Sorry, I got a bit turned around."
"That's been known to happen," Howard Stark said, turning to smirk at her over his chair.
"Mr. Stark," she sighed, "nice to see you again."
"Pleasure's all mine, Miss Harthorn," he replied, standing up as Dottie slid back into her seat. He took her hand and pressed his lips to it before leading her to the empty chair beside him, disregarding the fact that Richard had stood as well to pull out the chair beside him. Gently pulling her hand away from him, Em skirted around the table and took the chair Richard offered - he was, after all, her date.
"I was afraid you'd run off," Richard whispered while pushing in her chair. When he sat back down, she could see that he was genuinely relieved, and she felt a twinge of regret for having abandon him during their date. She, after all, was well aware of how much it hurt to be stood up.
"Of course not," she smiled. "I just got a bit distracted by everything and then had some trouble finding this place."
He returned her smile and turned his attention back towards their companions, who were being regaled by a story Howard was telling. It was something about meeting Humphrey Bogart, who was still riding high off of the release of Casablanca a few months before, and his wife, in a jealous, drunk rage over Ingrid Bergman, nearly hitting him in the face with a glass. With a rapt audience, Howard continued to pass on tidbits of Hollywood gossip until he noticed Em's eyes wandering to the dance floor.
"Want to take a turn around the floor, Miss Harthorn?" he asked, smirking underneath his mustache.
"I think so. Richard?" Em asked, turning to face the startled soldier. He recovered quickly and stood up, offering her his hand, and stepped onto the floor.
"So how do you know Mr. Stark?" he asked as they danced to 'As Time Goes By'.
"Work," she replied; it wasn't exactly a lie but not entirely the truth.
"Right. He's probably at the Capitol all the time," Richard nodded, the fringe of his hair falling in his face.
"All the time," she lied with a roll of her eyes. They were quiet for a beat before he cleared his throat.
"You're not exactly what I expected when Jimmy dragged me along."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," he said, a blush creeping up his face. "Normally the girls aren't that pretty."
"Oh. Thanks," Em felt herself flush at the awkward compliment. He ducked his head.
"Sorry, that came out wrong. You're…"
"Don't worry about it, I understood what you meant."
"Want to dance another one?" he asked as the song drew to a close.
"May I cut in?" Howard asked, appearing at their side. Richard glanced at Em to see what she would say.
"One dance," she sighed, stepping out of Richard's embrace and into Howard's. The soldier glanced at her once again before retreating to their table. "You are very persistent, Mr. Stark."
"When it comes to beautiful women, you have to be," he smirked.
"You have your pick of beautiful women," Em said while rolling her eyes. "And for some reason you continue to pester me. Why?"
"You intrigue me," Howard admitted. "You're obviously smart - college educated - and I'm sure the Senator is paying you well enough, but you want to join up with the Auxiliary Corp - "
"It's about to be changed to the Army Corp," she interrupted.
"And go overseas with Phillips," he proceeded as though he hadn't been interrupted. "You just turned 21, so I'm wondering what's keeping you from going into that recruiter's office and signing up."
Emily was quiet as they danced to a slower song she didn't recognize. "Phillips can help me get a specialist rank, and that's another $21 a month."
"You're willing to face espionage charges for a measly $21 a month?" Howard hissed.
"On top of the base pay of $15? Not everyone can sneeze at that kind of money," Em argued, feeling as though she'd made this argument before.
"So it's the money?"
"No, it's not the money!" she snapped, trying to keep quiet. "You don't get it - you can join the fight whenever you want. Hell, your weapons are already helping the boys over there. But women? We're expected to stay at home and make sure that you've got a lovely household to come back to - what about what we want? What if we want to fight back against what Hitler's doing?"
"And what is Hitler doing?" Howard asked.
Emily had to bite her tongue to stop her diatribe. She had lectured about the concentration camps just days ago, had dedicated her undergraduate academic career to studying the human rights violations that had occurred, memorized facts and figures and names of camps where the Nazis were killing people by the thousands.
For the second time that night, Em felt herself get light headed with the gravity of the situation. Reading about the number of people murdered had a distancing effect - you grew numb to the atrocity when the people were facts and figures because you were so far removed that there was nothing you could do. But she was standing here in 1943, well aware of the locations where the concentration camps were operating death trains and gas chambers, starving and working civilians to death. But that knowledge in the hands of someone as highly placed as Howard Stark could have changed the war - and history - forever. What sort of ramifications would it have? It could change the tide of the war and save millions of lives.
But the effect it would have on the future was incalculable. As much as it pained her, she couldn't say anything. She needed to leave as light of a trace that she'd been here, and letting anyone know would have been the equivalent of dropping an anvil on history.
"Let's get you out of here," Howard voice sounded through the ringing in her ears. Unlike before, her vision started to blur, so she leaned heavily on him as he led her from the floor.
"Em? Oh god, what happened?" Dottie asked they neared the table. Howard lowered her into a vacant chair and shook his head.
"I think your friend's had a bit too much excitement for the night. I'm going to see that she gets home safely."
"I can do that," Richard said, standing quickly. Em tried to give him a reassuring smile as she fought to stay conscious but knew that she failed spectacularly.
"My driver will be quicker than the subway," Howard replied, reaching into his coat pocket and withdrew his bill fold. "Have a few more drinks on me. For morale and all that."
"Em," Dottie said quietly as she leaned towards her. "Are you okay with this?"
Though she'd only known Howard for a few hours, she did trust him. Steve had always spoken highly of his friend and, though Tony never shied away from blasting his father's womanizing ways, Em knew he wasn't the type to take advantage. "Yeah. I just need to get some sleep."
"Okay. Do you mind if…" she glanced at where Jimmy was sitting.
"Just be careful."
"I will. You too," Dottie said, pressing her lips into a thin line as she looked at Howard. "He's got a bit of a reputation."
"A well earned one," Howard chimed in. "But your friend will be delivered home, safe and sound. I swear."
"I trust you," Em said, slowly pushing herself to stand. Howard quickly slipped his arm around her and helped her up. Richard stood as well, reaching for her.
"Can I walk you out?"
"I'll meet you outside," Howard said, striding away and slipping through the crowds of people trying to gain his attention. Richard watched and shook his head before offering Em his arm.
"I had a great time tonight," he said.
"Same," Em nodded.
"You're a swell girl, Emily, and I was wondering if...if you were coming back to New York, or if I was down in DC, if you'd want to do it again. Maybe leave Dottie and Jimmy at home though," he chuckled.
"Richard," Em said, pulling him to a stop just outside of the tent, and out of Howard's earshot. "I...my fiance…"
"Oh."
"He was... I'm not ready to start going steady with anyone just yet."
"Oh," he sounded surprised. "That...that's understandable."
"Thanks," she said. On a whim, she clutched his arms and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for the fun night, Richard. And best of luck."
"That was sweet of you," Howard teased as Richard ducked back into the tent to rejoin the party.
"Shut it," Em snapped, taking his offered arm.
"Mr. Jarvis is waiting at the edge of the grounds. I'll have you back at Abraham's house in no time. And then we can continue our conversation."
"No. We'll finish it here," she said, pulling him to a stop. "You asked why I'm doing what I'm doing. And it's because Hitler and his men ruined my life."
Howard studied her for a moment before nodding. "Father, brother, or husband?"
"Fiancé. He was shot down over the Channel." They stood in silence for a long moment before he nodded.
"I don't think that's the entire story, but it's good enough for now." Em sagged with relief and took his arm, allowing him to lead her towards the edge of the Expo grounds.
OOO
Carter braced his shoulder against the door and pushed into the Stark Industries lobby, a bag of bagels in one hand and a latte for Darcy in the other. It had been good to get out of the building, even for just a few moments, but the somewhat relaxing morning was ruined once he stepped into the lobby.
"-Just need to speak to Dr. Harthorn regarding a police matter."
"Sir, I understand that, but I'm under orders from Mr. Stark that no one is to go up to the residential floors without prior authorization."
"And Dr. Harthorn is on one of those floors," the detective sighed.
"Listen," the oldest gentleman in the group said. "If you would just call up and let her know that Martin Smith needs to speak to her, she'll let us up."
"And you are?" the Stark security officer asked.
"I'm her department head."
"Excuse me," Carter said loudly, striding towards them. "You're looking for Emily Harthorn?"
"Yes," the detective said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "And you are?"
"Agent Falsworth of S.H.I.E.L.D." he replied, setting the coffee on the security desk and showing his ID badge. "I'm assuming this is in regards to her office being broken into?"
"And you know about that how?"
"I'm the agent charged with investigating it. We've placed Dr. Harthorn in protective custody after a credible threat was made against her."
"A threat? Against Dr. Harthorn?" Dr. Smith asked, sounding aghast.
"Yes. I'm assuming you saw the state of her office."
"How's this professor mixed up with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" the detective asked.
"I'm not authorized to say. We can arrange for you to conduct a phone interview, but that's the closest you'll be getting to Dr. Harthorn for the near future."
"Listen, bud, I need to speak to my witness - "
"We'll arrange a call. And, as I'm sure you understand," he added, turning his attention to Emily's boss, "protective custody means she won't be coming in to work."
"Yes, of course. We'll arrange for someone to cover her classes. Please, just let her know that if she needs anything, our department will do all that we can to help."
"I'm sure that will be of great comfort to her. Now, if you don't mind, I need to be getting back."
"I do mind," the detective protested.
"Leave your contact information with the officer, and we'll be in touch," Carter shrugged him off. "Good day."
He made sure his pace was even as he walked towards the private elevators. Once inside, he allowed himself to sag back against the railing and scrubbed the back of his hand across his forehead.
Things just got much more complicated.
Author's Note: In honor of Agent Carter's debut tonight, I managed to bang out the last 8 pages of this chapter. Fingers crossed this was worth the wait! I didn't have nearly the time or privacy to write over my break as I though I would, so that was kind of annoying.
The scene with Steve and Clint comes from an interview with the Russo brothers (I believe it was them) regarding a scene that was cut from the script due to Jeremy Renner not being available. I hope it goes somewhere near what they envisioned. Also, I really enjoy writing Darcy and Carter and I hope you don't hate their relationship.
A few fun facts about the Women's Army Auxiliary Corp/Women's Army Corp: in order to join, a woman had to be between the ages of 21 - 45. Women were confined to mainly "traditional" women's roles, and were required to submit 2 letters of recommendation that they could perform the job they were applying for. I found a great archived article from the Chicago Tribune released on August 5, 1942 that showed what the pay rates were. An honors thesis (Recruiting a Lady: The Depiction of the Women's Army Corp, available on digitalcommons . butler . edu) provided a bit more information on the recruitment process. Successful applicants were usually college grads or had technical aptitude, and had to go through 2 interviews to prove that they were the epitome of womanhood. This didn't stop the view that WAACs were either "mannish" - out to be equal to male soldiers - or "bimbos" using their position to hunt for a husband. More about this later.
Again, apologies for the delay. I'm up late writing when I probably should be sleeping as I'm traveling back to school tomorrow. But hey, I can always sleep on the plane! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think.