Moments


A/N: 50,000+ views! Aces ; )

Anywho, as always...Enjoy!


Career Paths: S.H.I.E.L.D.


"Anders!"

"Jesus, Carter! Give a man a heart attack, why don't ya?" Anders exclaimed in protest of her sudden popping of her head in through his half-cracked window.

"A girl with my kind of heels on this brick-laid sidewalk should not be able to sneak up on an agent when he ought to be on high alert," she chided. Before he could mount a defense or Jack could object to her scolding his man, she ordered, "Anders, take a long walk, the kind that will have you back by bars' closing."

Anders looked over to Jack, his team lead and current stakeout partner for permission, but when Jack's look clearly read as "You heard the lady", he quit hesitating and swiftly gave up his seat to do as ordered. He also wisely did not comment on her commandeering the stakeout, so that she could have more time with her fiancé.

As soon as he was out of hearing range, Jack drawled with an impish grin, "So to what do I owe the pleasure, Carter? Could you just not bear to be away from me for another minute?"

She rolled her eyes, "No, we need to talk."

His grin faded and he swallowed nervously before warily remarking, "Well, those are never words a man wants to hear from his girl."

She didn't roll her eyes this time, but she did wave her hand dismissively, "Oh no, it's not about us – well, not completely that is."

"Uh-huh," he grunted, clearly not believing her. But could she blame him? In his defense, it wasn't the clearest of assertions.

To provide some clarification, she declared, "It's about Howard's offer."

Jack arched his eyebrow and quipped, "Which one? You mean the one to take you out and show you how a 'real man' shows you a good time? The one to relive the good ol' times of putting the 'fun in fondue'? Or the offer to – "

At her cool glance, he ceased his whining and played innocent, "Oh, you mean his global intelligence initiative that he wants you to spearhead?"

"Yeah that one," she agreed wryly.

He shrugged one shoulder, while casually checking the storefront he was supposed to be surveilling, before answering, "I think you should do it. Lord knows we need something like that. Hydra certainly has proven that it knows no borders, and I don't think that Langley or the Hoover lads are going to take them as seriously as the S.S.R. did."

Peggy did not miss the bitterness in Jack's voice, despite how much he tried to play it cool. Whether it was due to the ongoing willful ignorance of the leaders of America's two biggest intelligence agencies or whether it was due to the fact that the S.S.R. was being decommissioned along with several other war-time intelligence agencies now that 'peace' prevailed was difficult for her to tell. Either way, Jack had a reason to be unhappy.

"I'm glad I have your support," she acknowledged.

"But?"

"But…it wasn't just me that he made that offer to, you know. As much as Howard needles you about our relationship, he is smart enough to recognize that we're a package deal," she gently chided, but when she did not get the ready assurance that she was expecting and he continued to not meet her eyes, she found herself hesitantly stating, "Unless, of course, you decide to not to …"

Jack shifted in his seat, buying himself some time before he admitted defensively, "I haven't decided anything yet, Peggy. I'm considering my options."

Peggy tried not to take offense or make this personal. Jack did have quite a few options. Langley, of course, was always in need of good agents, being in its nascent stage of development. The Bureau was also developing its counter-intelligence division. It also needed agents who were familiar with scientific jargon for its Laboratory division. Rumors also had it that the Justice department was forming an agency to track illegal fire-arms sales and gun-runners. All of which Jack Thompson was well-qualified for.

But not taking offense was very hard to do, so she found herself asking, "Are you hesitating because now that we are getting married you are trying to keep our personal lives separate from our professional? Or is it that you don't want your wife to be your boss?"

Jack's blond head whipped around at her words and he exclaimed, "Hell no, Carter! What in the world have I done to make you think that?"

This time it was her turn to shrug indifferently, as she answered, "Well, it's more like what you haven't done – you haven't been talking to me about what you think since all of these changes were announced after we got back from seeing my family."

He reached over and interlaced his fingers with hers, stating remorsefully, "I'm sorry. It's just a lot to process and…"

"And?" she prompted when it looked like his walls were going to go back up.

"And I don't like Stark," he blurted with a sigh.

He said it so bluntly and baldly, almost like a petulant child, that he startled a guffawing laugh out of her that eventually petered into a few sputtering snorts, and when she was able to recover her breath, she declared with barely concealed amusement, "No shit."

He scowled at her, retorting, "No seriously. If I have to work closely with the man on a regular basis, in addition to seeing him on social occasions because he is your friend, I'm gonna hit the guy – and not just once."

Trying to keep a straight face (because he sounded more petulant than ever), she attempted to reassure, "Well, I don't really see that as that much of a barrier, Jack. For one, knowing Howard and I, I'll probably slap him a few times myself in the coming years. And for another, as director and founder, I can make sure that you have limited contact with him. Moreover, in your hiring contract, we can include a clause that you are allowed a limited number of hits to his august person."

"Once a year?" he bargained hopefully.

"Once every five years," she countered.

"Hmm. Maybe," he replied, as if he was actually finding this a persuasive argument. And if that is what it would take to convince him, she would make sure that Howard would agree to it. (The millionaire eccentric probably would too, just to be able to say that he had made such an allowance that no other bureaucratic agency would).

After a moment of contemplative silence, Jack asserted, "I want it on the record that my wanting to think about it has nothing to do with concerns about how our personal lives affect our professional lives and vice versa. We have proven so far that we can maintain that kind of balance."

"Okay, it's duly noted," she agreed patiently.

"And it is not because I do not want to work under a woman or my woman," he declared. He sounded extremely offended at the very idea that she thought that this might be a problem, so much so that she was about to apologize, but before she could do so, he ruined the moment by leering, "And just for future reference, I don't mind you on top."

There were so many things that she could say to that comment, but she knew if she did, they would get off topic. So instead, she blandly prompted, "Uh-huh. And if not those, then what?"

It showed how truly far they had come that he didn't respond defensively at her continued prodding, but he took the time to be as open and honest as possible when he answered:

"I don't know about you, but I have been thinking on how this is going to play out. If this experiment fails, you will be crucified. But if this succeeds and your fiancé and later husband is part of its development and operations, then it will be just like the Dr. Ivchenko/Fenhoff situation all over again with the big wigs trying to give me all of the credit. And I don't want to do that to you again."

She reached over and patted his hand, smiling gently as she reassured, "That's sweet, but as I am sure you are aware, I can handle male chauvinists and their ass-umptions quite well. My pride and ego can take it."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Even if some think you are boss in name only?"

"Even then."

He nodded his acceptance of this, seeming somewhat mollified by her assurance, and she thought that was the end of it, but when he continued to shift in his seat as if he was uncomfortable and acting as if he did not want to meet her eyes (all of this more than what was normal on their stakeouts), she began to question that assumption.

Well no, there was no 'began to'. She did.

"Jack? What else is holding you back?"

She was amused to see in the glow of a nearby streetlight that Jack was flushing a deep shade of pink.

After muttering a low curse, he turned to face her and blurted:"Look, you're going to be building this organization from the ground up. Right?"

"Right…" she agreed slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

"So, the way I see it. It's going to be your baby. And it should be your baby, not our baby. I want our baby to be our baby, one day, possibly, if you know what I mean."

By the end of this speech, Jack was turning (if it was at all possible) an even darker shade of red, while she on the other hand was flushing for an entirely different reason. She certainly had not been expecting it to go there.

'Good Lord, it's a damn good thing that I decided to have this conversation in a somewhat professional and public setting. If we were at either one of our flats right now, I might lose all sense of propriety and – well, Angie's phrase of 'jump his bones' comes to mind.'

She of course did not say any of this aloud. He was still on the job after all, and she should not distract him with that kind of temptation.

Instead (once she recovered the use of her voice), she picked at a nonexistent piece of fuzz on her pant-leg with her free hand and breezily declared, "Oh, that's too bad. I mean, while I was going to head up the training and operations, I was thinking of using that silver tongue and schmooze-factor of yours to have you as our liaison to the U.S. government and also be an inter-agency mediator. But if you would rather be a G-man…"

Jack, being her Jack, picked up on her desire to change the track and tone of conversation. Leaning back and tossing her that half-smirk of his, he asked, "'Schmooze-factor', huh? Don't you mean my excellent ability to kiss-ass?"

She, in kind, retorted with a grin and dramatic toss of her dark hair, "You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to."

Somewhat more seriously, he conceded (but still smirking), "It has potential. And 'Agency Liaison' has a nice ring to it."

Before he could say 'but', she declared with a decisive nod of her head, "Good. And now that I still have time to spare with you as my captive audience… Fish, beef, or chicken for the reception?"

And because he was her Jack, he did not bemoan the fact that he had given Anders permission for a really long walk. Nor did he shrug her question off with a pat and condescending 'you are the bride – you decide'. No, instead, he cocked his head as if in deep thought, giving her question its due consideration, before declaring:

"Well, darlin', it depends on the kind of fish."


A/N: Hee, hee. Stakeout chats, got to love them (or at least I do). Let me know what you think.

Also, just a forewarning - I only have a few more story-lines in my plot-well for this series, all geared to wrap this up. If my Muse spews out anymore one-shots, I will be adding them to my Scenarios series.

Thank you all for your continued readership and encouraging feedback. It has been an awesome adventure ; )