Carmen here.

First thing Dottie did after dragging me in there was hit me. "What are they doing here?!"

I staggered back onto the couch, rolling out of the way of the next blow.

"What did you tell them?"

I fell off the couch, landing hard on my arm. "Nothing! Nothing at all!"

Her foot connected with my jaw.

I'm not sure she was so much trying to find out as just have a reason to beat me up.

I scrambled up to my feet. Her foot caught me in the stomach. My face slammed into the ground.

The door slammed open.

"Peggy, hi!" said Dottie.

I really hope Dottie comes back in Season 2 so Agent Carter can beat her up again.

I lay on the floor for a moment, breathing hard. My head hurt. My face hurt. My stomach hurt. Just... ow. Ow.

Then I rolled out of the way to avoid being tripped over.

I ran for the door and out.

Jack was still down on the floor. He had retreated into a corner of the room far away from the doors.

I dropped down next to him. "Do you know what to do for bullet wounds?"

He shook his head. "And, to make matters worse, I think I'm going to pass out."

I pulled off my coat. "I know a bit about first aid, but unfortunately I never learned how to treat anything quite like this. Eyes on me, keep talking to me."

"Is Miranda okay?"

"I don't know."

"If I don't survive..."

"Of course you will." I was lying, of course. We both knew it. There was no "of course", there wasn't even a "strong possibility".

He laughed. "People have died of less."

"And people have survived more. I – I know someone who survived being stabbed in the chest with a knife. And one of my cousins survived a bullet to the head." To be honest, it went through his jaw, not his skull, but I thought the encouragement couldn't hurt. "Miranda will probably kill me if you die," I said, "so just don't, okay?"

I noticed that the plane was gone. "How did Jarvis not notice you?"

"I was here, he wasn't looking, and I couldn't get his attention."

"We need to go get help."

"No. The SSR agents will be here soon. I need you to make sure you can't hear Ivchenko – just in case."

"I don't suppose you carry ear plugs?"

"Up my shirt sleeve. I had a feeling this might happen so I came prepared."

"They have modern ear plugs in the 40s?"

"Not really. They're from home."

"You brought ear plugs with you to Les Miserables?"

"Don't tell Miranda. She plays video games with me and watches all the movies I like, I can at least pretend to tolerate Les Mis."

I pulled the ear plugs out of his coat and slipped them into my ears. They were good ear plugs and blocked out every little sound. Jack must really hate Les Mis.

I turned around to see Thompson and Ivchenko fighting.

Ivchenko knocked Thompson onto the floor.

Then Agent Sousa came in.

Ivchenko started talking to him, then made a gesture to us.

Agent Sousa turned.

Ivchenko knocked him onto the floor.

Uh oh.

I jumped up and sprinted across the room toward them, shouting – though I don't actually remember anything I said because I couldn't hear it. There was no plan. No thought of what I was going to do. Just that he wasn't getting out of there.

His lips moved, but I couldn't hear anything.

I shoved him, hard, sending him staggering back, then realized I didn't have a clue what you're supposed to do after that. Do you punch or kick or elbow or shove again?

Agent Sousa swung his crutch into Ivchenko's leg, tripping him up, then hitting him in the head with his gun.

He sat up, pulling out his ear plugs. I did the same, quickly tucking them into my pocket.

"You okay?"

"My friend's been shot."

I helped Agent Sousa onto his feet and led him across to where Jack lay.

Thompson had followed us.

"How long ago?"

"Not sure. Half an hour, maybe?"

Jack lay so still it took a moment for me to see that he was still breathing.

They began to go over his injuries and try to make him respond.

Was it too late?

This was all my fault.

Miranda appeared next to me.

"I'm sorry."

"No. We made our choice. We can hardly blame you if it went badly."

"Miranda?"

She pushed past Agent Thompson. "I'm here."

"You told them how to get here, didn't you? Told them where to go?"

"Of course I did. They wouldn't have gotten here fast enough if I hadn't. Die on me, and I'll discover a way to travel back in time just so I can tell you off for doing it."

"How sweet. You've got a great way of dealing with people who are bleeding out."

She backed away, moving next to me. "I went and found them and told them exactly where to go so they'd be here in time."

"Isn't that against the rules?"

She shrugged. "It's bending it a bit, but it's not breaking it, I don't think."

"You think he'll live?"

"I don't know. Like I said, if he does, he'll regret it."

"How do you make someone regret dying?"

"I'm sure there's a way."

My fault. All my fault.