Moments
Disclaimer: some lines are original to the series and not my own
A/N: final installment of Season 2 AU. Regular Moments-verse programming will commence after a short break (because my Muse just won't shut up about these two).
Anywho, as always...Enjoy!
Fiction Can Be Rewritten
2.10
"Four corned beef on rye, uh, two egg salad on white, and... ugh... one pickled-herring salad."
"And one pastrami melt with mustard," Jorgensen interjected as he limped in.
Jack added to the order, promising to come and pick it up rather than having it delivered, just as both he and Samuel noticed Vernon Masters' case.
He hung up and went to reach for it, but somehow his injured chief beat him to it.
"So what did Vernon leave behind?" he asked curiously as his friend rifled through the case.
"Looks like case files, including the one that you found about Carter," Samuel noted, pulling that one out and setting it aside, before both of their eyes landed on something shiny.
It was the Arena Club pin.
Jack reached in and pulled it out to look at it closer.
"What could possibly have been so fascinating about this that she would risk– ?"
"She?"
"Yeah, she. When I called Ramirez to get the lowdown on their big Underwood bust, Rick let slip that the object Dottie had been after was this pin," he explained thoughtfully. There was something about it that reminded him of…He could not recall exactly what, but he gave it a careful twist.
And out popped two prongs at one end.
"So it's a key too, huh?" Samuel mused.
"I guess," he mused with a shrug, as he went to give it to his chief.
But Jorgensen backed away, and snagged the case and the redacted file. "Oh no, I got my hands full with these," and then with a cheeky grin added, "And from friend to friend, I think it would make an excellent apology gift for Carter."
Jack shot his 'friend' a dirty look, but pocketed the pin/key anyways.
He would find a quiet moment, (or as quiet of a moment as could be had around here these days), to have that kind of conversation.
~A~
"You sure she's coming?"
"She'll come. I know it in my gut," Peggy answered him confidently. He was envious of that confidence. He always wondered what she had to go through to gain that kind of self-assuredness. Or was she just born with it?
Glancing around, he decided now was a good of a time as any, and took the plunge.
"And what's your gut telling you about me? I'm just wondering how quick I'm gonna have to clean out my office once this is all over."
"What are you talking about?"
Her obvious look of confusion gave him a sense of hope, but he marched on anyways, "You turning me in for what I did to Vernon."
"What?" she laughed in genuine surprise. "I'm not gonna do that."
He scoffed, "I've been riding you since you took this case, not to mention your little speech about justice, and you're telling me you're just gonna let it slide?"
She tilted her head to the side and slyly smirked, "Well, I wouldn't say that. I did threaten to shoot you."
"Yeah. I remember," he chuckled.
He remembered wishing desperately that Carter was not so good at poker and that he had been observant enough in all of their time as partners to learn all of her tells. But Peggy would always be a mystery, like the Mona Lisa or, when her guard was up (more than normal), like the Sphinx.
"It's not your fault entirely," she continued her voice going soft with kindness, with a shrug she added, "Between Vernon's promises of advancement and Jorgensen's of glory, and the fact that he ordered you to keep me in the dark about your role in this investigation, it's no wonder you struggled with knowing your up from your down."
He didn't protest her assessment; for while, thanks to Jorgensen, he may not have been enthralled with Vernon's promises, he had been with the idea of being the point man on the case that busted wide open the corruption ring that was the Council. And the idea of him doing it without Carter's help may have been a small part of why he didn't tell her what he was up to.
Instead, he quipped, "Don't get so sentimental. I might cry."
She rolled her eyes at him, "Fine, I won't. So hear me now. The next time you feel the need to find a 'permanent solution' to my political enemies – don't. You're a good man, Jack. I know that, and I'd hate to see that go to waste."
Shit. Didn't he just tell her not to get sentimental?
"I have something for you." He reached into his inside pocket, pulled out the pin/key, and held it to her. "I found this in Vernon's briefcase."
"The Arena Club pin. I've seen them before."
"Mm." He twisted the pin, giving her a little demonstration, "It's also a key."
She reached for it eagerly, like a kid in a candy store, and asked curiously, "A key to what?"
"Guess we'll just have to figure that out," he declared with smug satisfaction. They had a shot of being partners again.
Testing the waters, he asked plaintively, "You weren't really gonna shoot me, were you, Peggy?"
At her sharp inhale and teasing smirk, he got the answer to his real question. All was forgiven.
"Just forget it…I don't want to know."
~A~
He did want to know what deities he had pissed off or law of superstition he had broken to make this case an impossible rollercoaster of highs and lows.
One moment, he was tucking a Zero-Matter-less and handcuffed Frost into the back of his car.
The next, Howard Stark's radio controller is not working and there is no way to shut the rift.
One moment, he's getting the courage to volunteer for a suicide mission.
The next, he was awkwardly holding onto Howard Stark so that Peggy wouldn't be filled with a Sousa-sized hole of devastation in her heart.
One moment, he, Daniel, and Peggy were finishing the last of their case reports with an air of camaraderie that he had not expected to ever experience again.
"Look, I... got to say something to you about what happened at the rift."
"Oh, there's no need to thank me."
"Uh, actually, I was gonna say you messed up."
Jack may not know all of Peggy's tells, but he had been playing poker with Sousa long enough to recognize that suppressed grin anywhere. Daniel was up to something.
Not wanting to miss out on the fun, he declared with equal seriousness, "I got to agree with Sousa. You messed up big time."
"Sorry, what?"
"As your ..."
Daniel looked to him for – assistance? permission? He didn't know, so he supplied as helpfully as he could, "'friend',' colleague', 'comrade-in-arms'?"
Not 'partner', that's what he and Peggy were.
Daniel gave him a grateful nod and continued, "As your colleague, I feel obligated to tell you your actions were ill-advised – "
"And reckless," he added with a sad shake of his head.
Peggy glanced between them in bewilderment and then shrilled in protest, "Ill-adv... Reckless?!" He didn't know her voice could go up that high.
"You're damn right," Daniel retorted, "By your own professed rules, you should've allowed me to be sucked into the rift and shut it down, period."
"Is that so?" she challenged with suspicion. If Sousa didn't do a better job at suppressing his smirk, the gag would be up.
"Yeah. You talk a pretty big game when it's your life on the line, Carter, but when it's somebody else's…"
"You're a pretty big hypocrite," Jack concluded, with a barely concealed smirk of his own.
It was probably the lack of heat to his jibe, or its lack of snarled delivery, that gave them away, because she finally cottoned on and retorted, "Hardy-har-har. Just for that, the two of you are paying for all of my drinks tonight."
"And hear I thought we were celebrating not only our case being closed but also my permanent transfer to L.A.," Sousa declared with a pout.
With all of the vacancies from their cleaning out of Vernon's boys, Jorgensen had been happy to take him on, and with Daniel now being known as a whistle-blower, Johnson had been happy to relinquish him.
At Daniel's words, Peggy glanced at the clock. "Well, as soon as the Chief gets here to sign off on that, I'll have Jack buy you your first round."
And the next, Rose is barging into the office, looking beyond distraught, and declaring, "I just overheard it on the police scanners. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the address and the code. So I called the hospital, pretending to be his older sister, and they said – they said …"
Jack stood there overwhelmed with dread. Sam was late. He was never late.
Peggy however raced over to her friend and guided her to a chair, gently instructing, "Take a deep breath, dear, and start at the top. What did you overhear and what did you find out?"
A few deep breaths later, the woman confirmed his terrifying suspicions – "The chief's been shot."
