Moments
A/N: in dedication to the SSR NY branch, which brought us the awesomeness of Peggy Carter, the possibility of Cartson, and my faves the puppy dog Sousa and Rose, the switchboard queen, I present to you ...
Career Paths: L.A.
"What are you doing here?"
From amidst her highly organized stacks upon stacks of case files in the conference room, Carter mumbled (or was it grumbled?) in surprise.
Jack wasn't offended by her less than pleased and more than a bit suspicious tone. In fact, Jack didn't know if he should be gratified that he had surprised the almost all-knowing Carter or be disappointed in himself that he had become predictable enough in his routine that his being there that late was such a remarkable thing. Now granted, he wasn't working the night-shift, (thank God), so normally he would be drinking his nightcap (or his second) at this hour, but Carter was on night shift, sort of.
Peggy was working late into the night on the latest project from Johnson – cross-examining and triple-checking the evidence on Fisher's case as it was about to go to trial. Tedious and mind-numbing work, unless your passion was numbers, which was most definitely not the case for a girl of action like Carter.
He was slightly offended though that she didn't seem too intent on finding out the answer to her half-hearted query as she was so focused on whatever she was reading in the folder in front of her.
Jack had come here with a purpose, and additionally she needed saving, so he shut the conference room door with a decided click and announced quietly, "We need to talk."
Those four little words pulled her out of her reverie, like nothing short of an earthquake would. Leaning back in her chair, she arched an eyebrow and joked, "Hmm, sounds ominous and personal. Do you have any family members in town that I need to warn away from ferries? And," she paused to glance dramatically out to the bullpen " – is this really the time or place to be having one of those kinds of conversations?"
He smiled to himself. If she was teasing him, she was at Peggy's punch-drunk level of tiredness, which was good. It would make this conversation a lot easier for him as long as he did not push her over into Carter's I'm-so-crabby-I-want-to-punch-your-face exhaustion level.
"No, no family is in town," he admitted amusedly, and then he added with a dismissive jerk of his head, "And don't worry about the night-shift boys, I sent them out to get their dinner and forwarded all the calls to here."
The humorous light in her eyes faded, as they narrowed in guarded wariness, "So this is the serious we-need-to-talk kind of chat, isn't it?"
Not wanting her to be apprehensive, he teased, "So serious that I am voluntarily here to help you with your punishment detail."
That earned him a dramatic scoff as she groused, "Which you should have been a part of, as you are the one who sent me in there to interrupt his interrogation in the first place."
"Please," he defended indignantly, "the man was about to get rough with someone that possibly had diplomatic immunity." (He did per the state department suit that Jack had been on the phone with, and thus had been unable to go warn Johnson himself.) "So what does he care about social niceties like 'not shooting the messenger'?"
Carter scowled at the mountains of paperwork in front of her and grudgingly replied, "Touché."
There was a contemplative moment of silence before she broke it with "So what is it that we need to talk about?" at the same time he blurted, "You should request a transfer to the L.A. office."
"Wait. What?"
He hastened to explain before she thought (if she didn't already) that this was the "I'm-breaking-up-with-you" kind of serious talk – because he was, in fact, far from that – er, breaking up their partnership, that is.
"Yeah, you're a talented, ambitious, and damn-good agent, Carter, and you're being wasted here at this office. Johnson and the Big Bosses in D.C. are all too chummy and pig-headed to let you into their club, to let you … well, be you. The Los Angeles office is down a man, er, agent, because he got seduced by the dark side, a.k.a. Langley, and I know Yates will take you on because he is letting his deputy Jorgensen make all the staffing decisions."
"Why?"
"Why is he letting him make all the decisions? Because he's retiring in a few months and Jorgensen will be the new L.A. chief," he answered matter-of-factly, and he hoped in a less babbling and more coherent manner. Her poker-face was extremely off-putting.
"No, I knew that already," she asserted, waving her hand dismissively. "The switchboard girls let me in on that before you even probably knew. No, I mean why would Jorgensen want me?"
He snorted, "Because he's a smart man and knows what an excellent resource you would be, unlike some people." He was referring mostly to Johnson and the Big Bosses when he said that last bit, but if she had to ask…then she might be one of those people too.
Carter's eyes narrowed, "And how does he know that? I am sure Johnson isn't singing my praises at their inter-branch chief meetings."
Okay, so not one of 'those people', just a highly skilled agent with a healthy dose of skepticism.
He shrugged and busied himself with some of the files, as he asserted with more hope than confidence, "Maybe he listens to his switchboard girls too."
Yeah, judging by her arched eyebrow, she didn't buy it either.
"Jaaack," she singsong-ed reproachfully.
He could tell by the twitching of the corners of her mouth that she was more amused at his attempt to mislead her than she was angered by it. So with a reluctant sigh, he explained, "Alright, Jorgensen and I talk. We used to be at the San Francisco office together. So he knows how Johnson can be, and he has been wanting to get the band back together, so to speak."
Her expressive dark brows furrowed in confusion as she asked, "So why don't you transfer?"
He wanted to answer 'because I won't leave you, my partner, behind', but knew that would go over like a lead balloon with Peggy. He could just hear her offended rhetoric: 'I don't need you to be my white knight at the office, Jack. I am a big girl. I can take care of myself.' Blah. Blah. Blah.
Yeah, so instead he replied, just as honestly, "Because while Yates won't care if Jorgensen willingly takes on the 'headache' of a female agent, he will care if his last two months are plagued by me. The man absolutely despises me, and he will deny the transfer flat out."
This time there was a full-on smirk of amusement as she asked dryly, "What did you do to piss him off so much?"
He tried to hide his own smirk. He truly did. But he knew that he failed as he explained in a dismissive drawl, "Oh, you know, the usual story: a young dashing rookie in one office dukes it out with an old curmudgeon of a veteran in another office over jurisdiction of a case as well as who should be the prime suspect, and," he concluded with yet another shrug, "I won - on both accounts - possibly humiliating the old curmudgeon in the process."
Carter shot him a look that clearly said: 'You? Noooo. Say it isn't so.' In response, he shrugged again, this time with more sheepishness than he had yet so far. He knew that he could be a downright asshole and had been even worse when he was starting out. Dooley had liked his brashness. Many others admittedly did not and still don't. He didn't always know which category Carter fell into. Most of the time, she was probably in the latter category. But sometimes...sometimes he suspected she was more like Dooley in that regard.
Not rising to the bait, he continued, "But yeah so, when Yates retires and Jorgensen gets promoted, there will be a spot available that I can request a transfer to. As the new guy on the block, I won't be able to be his Deputy right away, so that will be a pay cut, but on the plus side, I will be closer to my family again. And if a certain someone follows my advice now, I will have a friendly face in the bullpen to greet me and possibly a partner I already trust."
His explanation startled an unladylike snort from Carter. When she recovered, she observed wryly, "Hmm…so really your suggestion that I request a transfer has more to do with you than me…"
He chuckled as he admitted, "Yes, there are a few perks in my favor," but more soberly, he defended himself, "But really, Marge, if it was just about me, I could equally be having this conversation with Ramirez or Sousa, and I am not."
It wasn't a completely logical and fool-proof argument, but Carter nodded her head in understanding anyways. In fact, she looked to be so understanding that he could have sworn that she even knew what he wasn't saying. Much to his relief, however, all she said (in her best nasally New Yorker voice) was: "But leave New York? For Tinseltown?"
He relaxed, if she was mock-arguing, then she was at least partially already sold on the idea.
"Why would you want to do that? I don't know... Sunshine? Beaches? Movie stars?" he retorted mildly. "All the reasons your actress friend Angie will probably try her hand there sooner or later. And probably the same reasons Stark spends his time there more often than not too."
"And what does Howard's itinerary have to do with this discussion?" she asked in genuine puzzlement.
"Well, if that McCarthy chap is right, there is a hot-bed of anti-democratic activity in Hollywood, which would just be the perfect place for Hydra-Zodiac-Leviathan-whatever recruitment. But really all I got to say is that if Howard Stark is there, then that is most likely where the action on that front will be."
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, (surprisingly not rolling her eyes at his pet Stark theory), and eventually acknowledged, "You might be onto something there."
He nearly made some snarky comment about her admitting that he 'might' be right about something, but was stopped short when she added, "And there have been rumors that this is where Dottie disappeared to."
Humph. Well, if he had known that was all that it would take to convince her that the transfer was a good idea was to mention that her very own white whale would be there too, he would have skipped all the flattery, self-deprecating humor, and well-reasoned logic and saved himself some time.
She must have seen something in his expression, because she then did roll her eyes and softly chided, "Oh don't be like that, Jack. It was a well-crafted if roundabout argument, and I will consider it and not just because of Dottie either."
He sighed with relief, murmuring softly, "Thank you."
She nodded her acceptance and then flipped open the file she had previously dropped. He thought she got lost in its contents, but when he stood up, her dark head snapped up and she scowled at him, "Oh no. Where do you think you're going? You're little ambushed tête-à-tête just cost me a half hour. You're going to help me get that back."
He cleared his throat nervously at the threat she held in her dark eyes, before drawling, "Aw come on, Marge, would I leave a lady in the lurch like that? Especially, my own partner? I was just gonna get me a cup of coffee and refill your tea for you before I dived in."
And before she could say anything, he hastily made his exit to do just that.
As the door was closing, he overheard her grumble, "Damn straight you were."
So shit. Punch-drunk Peggy had given way to her Evil Twin of Exhaustion. It was going to be a long night.
And the irony was not lost on him that he had just done his level best to make sure he would not leave this woman behind when he jumped ship – had even purposefully placed himself in the line of fire to do so.
As he made her another cup of tea to her exacting methods, he knew deep in his bones and without any doubt in his mind that it was all worth it. She was worth it.
~A~
A few months later...
Jack found himself blushing as he stared at the postcard in his hand. Yes, blushing, as in 'red as a tomato' as his Nana Maria would say.
It was an innocent enough postcard. It had 'Greetings from Los Angeles' stamped across the front. The city's skyline depicted within its block-lettering. The message on the back was also innocent enough. Nothing he would be ashamed to show his mother or Gam-Gam.
But if Ramirez saw it and the stupid smile that was far wider than his usual smirk, he would say just one word and only one: 'Whipped'.
Dear Jack,
I saw that actress who plays the lost, shoe-stealing Kansas girl last week, but have not seen so far our
invention-stealing Dorothy. Howard says it is because I have had no opportunities to make a nuisance of myself.
I am counting down the days until Yates is officially retired and you can submit your transfer request.
The agents here are worse than you when it comes to the alphabet, and I have yet to find or at least train
someone to make a decent cup of tea. Maybe you will have better luck.
Oh, and why is it that they flinch every time I reach for a stapler?
In 14 days,
Agent Marge Carter
A/N: Well, my lovelies, it has been fun. I have some ideas for how Cartson will play out in L.A. and after (and there will be more Cartson romance), but I would like to see how second season goes before I decide to go more AU than I have already.
Please let me know what you think of the journey so far, which was your favorite one- or two-shot (there were more of those than I originally intended), and maybe what you would like to see in the future.
For those of you who have reviewed, favorited, and followed, thank you all for your kind encouraging words and support. As always, I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it (and will continue to enjoy, no worries)
Until the next über-long hiatus : )
