Moments


Family, That Is


"Jack, you're pushing too hard."

It took all he had not to slam the observation room door in response to Carter's unwarranted, and certainly, unsolicited opinion. (It didn't help that Krzeminski's ghost was cough-chortling 'That's what she said' in the back of his mind either.)

"Well, he knows more, and he's not talking. So in my opinion, that means I'm not pushing hard enough."

He crossed his arms and scowled at her – not unlike he had been scowling at their stonily silent detainee in the interrogation room next door.

"Or your method just isn't working." She fired back.

"Oh, and I suppose a softer, gentler, more teasing approach would be better?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Just to piss her off, because he knew how much she hated that. That and any disparagement to her femininity, (which had proven to be a far more useful weapon than had been expected).

"No, not necessarily, but I believe in the axiom 'work smarter, not harder'." Dumb-arse wasn't said but it was certainly implied by her less than quiet huff of irritation.

"Alright, so what's your brilliant stratagem, Carter, huh?"

His snarled retort was practically spat in her face they were standing so close and toe-to-toe. Not his finest moment.

It was this charming and highly professional tableau that Wallace mercifully interrupted. Half-way leaning in through the door, he somehow managed to both apologize sheepishly and leer: "Er, sorry to interrupt your lovers' quarrel, but Johnson is requesting your presence in the conference room."

While Carter was busy scowling at the man for his cheeky remark, he coolly asked, "Did he say why?"

"No," Wallace shrugged nonchalantly, and then in a manner that was too casual not to be feigned, he added, "But it could be because of the two Brits who strolled on in here with an all-access pass from the higher up muckety-mucks."

Carter's eyes met his. Her arched and questioning eyebrows mirrored his own, indicating that this was as much of a surprise to her as it was to him.

He didn't know which idea would have bothered him more – that his partner might have known and hadn't told him or that the seemingly omniscient Carter was just as much in the dark as he was about their mystery guests.

He scowled at their detainee through the two-way mirror and then shrugged. The sooner they met them, the sooner they got answers, and the sooner they could get back to business. Carter must have been of like mind, as she was already marching behind their broad-shouldered colleague.

Due to their height differential, he was able to get a glimpse of the Brits before she did.

Standing next to Johnson was an older man of thin stature, with thin lips, and even thinning hair, but perversely a bushy moustache, and just off to the side was a younger, shorter, and stockier gent with curly dark hair and rather bland features – unremarkable and forgettable except as soon as his eyes alighted upon Carter his whole face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

Somber Peggy wasn't much better as her face was suffused with joy as she launched herself at him exclaiming adoringly, "Benji!"

This 'Benji' was able to brace for impact just in time, returning her bear-hug that somewhat muffled his protests of "Awe! Come on, Peg-leg, not here!".

Johnson did a not so subtle clearing of his throat to break up the affectionate reunion of the whatever-they-were's, even as the older Brit laughed softly and teased, "I do believe it is a younger sister's prerogative to embarrass her elders."

Sister. So 'Benji' was older brother Benjamin Carter. Now that this chap had mentioned it, Jack could kick himself for not seeing the family resemblance. Even now, as the two separated, they were straightening their clothes and returning to their usual professional stoicism.

In a brisk and dignified manner, Brother Carter began introductions, "Sir, this is Agent Margaret Carter. Peggy, this is Mr. Jay, the Senior Operations Manager of our Western European branch."

"And this is Deputy Agent Jack Thompson, my partner," 'Peg-leg' dutifully introduced, almost with pride and without a hint of her earlier irritation with him.

Mr. Jay nodded to him politely but immediately switched his focus back to Carter. "It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard so much about you from Col. Phillips."

To everyone's amazement (Johnson choked on his coffee), Carter's response was to arch an eyebrow and wryly state, "I highly doubt that. The Colonel only gives grudging grunts of approval. Which begs the question…Are you trying to butter me up?"

Mr. Jay didn't seem to mind her brazenness, but was almost rather charmed by it. His bushy moustache twitched as if he thought she was a cute kitten with claws. And because this 'muckety-muck' underestimated his Marge poorly, he responded accordingly by trying to downplay his purpose.

"It's only a small favor, Ms. Carter."

His partner was not having any of it.

Pursing her lips, no doubt, in an attempt to keep her annoyance in check, she coolly if a bit stiffly corrected, "Agent. Agent Carter. And it's not 'small', if you've pulled my brother away from his newborn girl just to get on my good side."

'Newborn girl?'

When Johnson shot him a questioning look, he had to shrug his shoulders. This was the first time he had heard of Carter being a new auntie. Not once had she even hinted at wanting to leave to go see a new niece. Didn't women usually jump at the chance to coo over new squalling wriggling pink poop-factories?

While he was reminding himself that this was Carter, and her and 'usual' were not on speaking terms, Mr. Jay was finally getting down to business.

"We need your help. We've lately had far too many deaths of good agents – mysterious deaths or killed in action deaths – that strategically benefit our enemy to be of coincidence."

"You think there is a mole."

"Yes, and we need someone of your skill set, who can be objective but is familiar with the area and the players, to analyze all of our interactions with Red Skull's splinter groups, like Leviathan and Zodiac."

"Aside from that being a very daunting task that will take me away from my duties, what's the catch?"

This time it was her brother who answered. With a quiet but longsuffering sigh, he stated, "There is too much data to be consolidated in a briefcase and strapped to somebody's arm, and it is too dangerous to ship all that classified information across the pond, so you'll need to go back with us."

"Too sweeten the pot, you'll be able to peruse the original training room records for that Red-lass agent program that one of our late agents was able to obtain before their untimely demise," the operations manager wheedled.

And quite effectively. No matter what hang-ups Carter had about being at home, she knew that seeing the records of Dottie's origins would help them immensely in understanding her and tracking her.

But with Carter's poker-face it was hard to read this, especially when she fixed her brother with her hard stare and challenged, "What's my cover story going to be with Mother?"

"Cover story?" Benjamin Carter asked in startled bewilderment. A fact which he found puzzling in and of itself, for if he was Peggy's older brother, shouldn't he know that his sister would consider the logistics and secrecy of her mission first and foremost?

"Yes, cover story," she snapped in irritation, and then she began to explain slowly as if to a child (or to a clueless older brother, he supposed), "I am going to be disappearing for hours to do analysis work. She is going to want to know why I am not available for a visit with cousin so-and-so while they gush over my 'cute as a button' niece or to have tea with Mrs. Who's-it that knows that nice young man…"

She arched her expressive eyebrows challengingly yet again, but when her brother stood there and said nothing, she spun on her heels and left the room.

Without so much as a by-your-leave. From either of the two superior officers in the room.

His low whistle of amazement at the balls she had to throw such an uncharacteristic temper tantrum was cut off by the questioning stare of all three men (as if he was that woman's keeper – ha) and Johnson's jerking of his head at him to follow after her.

He did so, but wondered how much hot water he would get into if he delayed a few moments before approaching the might tetchy female agent.

He liked his head attached to his shoulders after all.

~A~

"Tea?"

After Daniel had tipped him off that she had used the elevator and it had gone up, he decided to intrude upon her roof-top brooding by bringing a peace offering.

"Despite what you Americans think, we Brits don't find tea to be a cure-all," she quipped even as she practically snatched the offered mug from his hands.

He snorted his disbelief as he watched some of the tension drain from her features after only a tiny sip from the tonic beverage. "You could have fooled me."

Instead of defending herself against cultural stereotypes, she took a few more restorative sips and then dove right into the heart of the issue, saying, "I did want to go home to see my niece…to see her wrap my brother and father around her wee little fingers within moments of her entering the world. It's just that – that there were – are so many things…"

Carter at a loss for words was supposed to be a much more rewarding experience than it was, but he couldn't find it in himself to gloat. Instead, he found himself trying to channel his inner Gam-Gam, and prodded gently, "'Things' such as…?"

For the first time since this touchy-feely conversation started, she took her eyes off the skyline to nervously glance at him and admitted, "You were in coma. I was tracking down that last Zodiac agent and then futilely hunting for Dottie again, and then you were recuperating."

"Oh no, you're not putting this on me," he cried bullshit. "Those are excuses, Carter. I'm not even on crutches anymore. What's your real reason?"

It was evidence in how far along they had come as partners (and not a testament to his interrogation skills), that within moments of this challenge Carter caved.

With a sigh, she confessed, "My parents don't know I am agent. It's easier to lie to them, especially my mom when there is a whole ocean between us."

That threw him for a loop. He couldn't imagine keeping that big of a secret from his family. No, they might not know how dangerous his job was, or at least hadn't until he had gotten shot, but they had known the basic job description. She however had been keeping them completely in the dark for years.

"What did she think you were doing in the war?"

Peggy let out an unamused chuckle, before explaining, "The irony is that she thought I was a nurse."

'Tonight's thrilling tale takes us deep into the heart of the Ardennes Forest, where Hitler's Nazi guard has … taken Betty Carver, the battalion's beautiful triage nurse as their hostage.'

As the radio show's ridiculous words rang through his mind, Jack could only laugh in sympathy along with her. It was ironic, but not really funny under the circumstances.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, he dug down deep for what little empathy he had and admitted, "I don't know what you're going through. I can't, as it is socially acceptable for me as a male to be a federal agent."

He ignored her grunt that could only be interpreted as 'no shit, Sherlock', and continued, "But that does not mean I don't understand how difficult it is with family. My nearly 80-year-old grandmother and her best friend have decided that now is the perfect time to come out to see the Big Apple."

"This sudden urge was brought on by your near death experience, wasn't it?" Carter said knowingly.

"Yeah, remind me to change my father as my emergency contact. He can't keep a secret from them to save his life." He sighed sheepishly. He had named his father as his emergency contact, as he was the one who would less likely make a fuss about anything and could handle any medical business stuff that might overwhelm his mother or elderly grandmother. That, and it would force his father to take notice of him. But that was an issue for another day.

His sheepish sigh of exasperation quickly became an unbecoming whine as he added petulantly, "And now they are not only going to want me to play tourist guide, but they also are going to be mother-henning me, which I love that they do – don't get me wrong – but it's much easier to take when they are a whole country away."

As he could hear his petty complaint somewhat echo her own words, an idea occurred to him that he blurted without censuring:

"Maybe we should be each other's support buddies?"

This startled a laugh from Peggy, and in between chuckles, she clarified, "You mean while I'm dealing with my family and you deal with yours we check-in on each other via pricey long distance phone calls?"

He shrugged and smirked with his best boyish grin, "It would be worth it just to make sure I haven't torn my pretty blond locks out or shoved my favoritest people in all the world off a ferry."

Although he was being facetious, he found himself holding his breath as he anxiously awaited her answer. He really wanted her to say 'yes.'

She, of course, didn't.

At least not simply yes. No, instead, she rolled her eyes and huffed with suppressed amusement, as she dragged out her response:

"Oh in that case…sure, why not?"