Alice is bent over a table in one of the classrooms, carefully painting inside the lines of her Free France poster. She, alongside three other HYDRA girls, had been selected to paint propaganda posters at Sinclair's request. Though Alice had been promoted to Staff Sergeant a month or so ago, she was willing to help whenever Sinclair asked – and he did. It made Alice feel important, but it also made her feel tired.

She was always tired.

She carefully traces an 'e', completely focused on the task at hand. A select number of the posters would be distributed across Canada to establish morale and to warn of enemy spies. 'Keep mum, she's not so dumb!' 'Careless talk costs lives!' It all seemed a bit ridiculous to Alice, but they'd been taught about the importance of flyers in building the nation's morale.

Arguably the most important, however, were the posters that were to be distributed across France, where a number of the camp's agents would be dropped. 'Honneur et Patrie, la France vous parle. Honour and Patriotism, France is speaking to you.' 'Un seul combat pour un seule patrie! One fight for one nation!' The aim of these posters was to recruit French Resistance with the goal of hitting the enemy from behind their own lines. Alice, along with the others – even the agents – were on a need to know basis, and that was all Alice knew. She didn't know when the posters would be sent or with who; if they'd be sent by airdrop, or in someone's suitcase. She knew the secrecy of everything was for everyone's safety, but sometimes her curiosity itched to get the better of her.

Alice looks up as Duncan walks in - with Tom in tow. She holds back a sigh. Duncan stops at the front of the room, and she straightens up to listen, her paintbrush in hand.

"Ladies," Duncan begins, "Mr. Cummings here comes from a specialized background in propaganda and deception, and I'd like for him to observe what's going on here. Everyone continue work as is." He nods, before patting Tom on the shoulder and leaving the room.

Alice ignores the tall blond man, getting back to work on her poster. She hears him stop beside one of the younger girls, Stella, and can't help but eavesdrop.

"So, Tom, you specialize in propaganda and marketing?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tom responds, and Alice rolls her eyes as she hears Stella giggle.

"Anything else you specialize in?" Stella asks flirtatiously, and Alice is sure her eyes can't roll back any further. She purposefully tunes out the conversation as Tom responds, bending down to look at the handwritten lettering she's added to the poster. She can feel him stop behind her, and she tries to ignore him as he watches her work.

"Have you ever thought about maybe making it less... Obvious?" Tom speaks from behind her. "I mean, if you want to recruit resistance, you're going to have to make it subtle. Germans catch wind of any recruitment plan, who knows what they'll do."

Alice straightens and looks at him. She stares at him evenly before replying, "I'll take that into consideration." She pauses, before adding curtly, "Even though I didn't design this poster." She raises an eyebrow, and Tom furrows his brows. As she turns back to her work, she sees him cross his arms out of the corner of her eye. He's silent for a moment before speaking again.

"We're not going to get along, are we?"

Alice ignores his question. "I have work to do, Mr. Cummings."

"I'm trying to help."

"I'm sure someone else would love your help, Mr. America."

Tom inhales a deep breath before responding. "You know what? I'm here when the rest of my country isn't, Scarlett. That's got to mean something to you." She's surprised at his words, blinking slowly before recovering. She ignores the dig at her dark red hair, and lifts her chin in defiance as she sets down her paint brush after finishing the last letter.

"Do you even want to be here? Or did they just send you?"

"I volunteered, actually," he replies evenly. She nods slowly, matching his even gaze for a moment, before straightening her jacket and heading back to the radio room.

"Don't be so quick to judge, Scarlett," he calls after her.

"It's Alice," she calls brusquely over her shoulder, letting the door slam shut behind her.

After lunch and what seems like hours back at the radio, Duncan pulls Alice aside. He wants her to record the times of morse code messages sent by the new recruits while he observes and ensures the messages are correct. He introduces the young men, who are all smiles, which makes Alice smile wistfully. They have no idea what they're in for, she thinks to herself. She's nodding at each introduction until the last one, and she feels her heart sink as she hears a familiar name.

"…This is George." Duncan's voice lowers just barely at the name, and only Alice knows why. The five other men in the room don't notice, and Alice strains to keep her composure. She manages to keep a straight face until she's finished in the room and Sinclair is satisfied, and then she heads into the hall while Duncan gives the men a final speech.

She clutches the clipboard to her chest, shutting her eyes as she leans against the wall. This is not the time to get emotional, she tells herself. She almost laughs – when is ever the time to be emotional these days? She takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

This is the first George they've had since Duncan's son was pronounced dead two months ago. She remembers the day well; Duncan had been sitting in his office late one evening, an empty glass of scotch on his desk, when Alice had entered with some delivered mail. She'd stopped in her tracks when she'd found Duncan, a man she'd never seen cry in all the years she'd known him, with tears in his eyes as he stared blankly in front of him. Without a word of prompting on Alice's part, he'd whispered, "George," and she'd just known. Her heart had fallen into her shoes, she'd reached for the edge of the chair to steady herself, and she'd dropped the envelopes on the floor. For a week, she'd gone through her duties emotionlessly and mindlessly; Duncan seemed to be fine, though Alice knew his bottle of scotch was growing emptier with every night that passed. Then she'd read the newspaper clipping, and she'd cried in the bathroom for longer than she cared to admit. Then she'd washed her face, straightened her jacket, smoothed her hair, and headed back out into the office like nothing was wrong. And she'd been doing the same ever since.

So she's surprised at herself - she's been numb to any feeling about it since about a week after they found out about George's fate. Whenever he's mentioned, which is scarce, she feels a dull pain and ache, but she's able to quickly suppress it. She's not sure why she's unable to control it at this moment, and curses herself for being vulnerable. She continues to breathe deeply, until she's startled into standing straight by the door to the room beside her opening. The five young men file out first, and as they head down the hall and out the doors towards the field, her eyes linger longer on the last man out.

George. As Sinclair steps out beside her, he does the same, before placing a hand on Alice's shoulder. He squeezes, meeting her eyes briefly, before heading back towards his office. Alice follows wordlessly.

Sorry for the kind of short chapter, and for the lack of Tom! It's all important backstory, though, and he'll feature prominently soon ;)

THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE COMMENTS!

As always, reviews and favourites are always welcomed and appreciated. Also, if you guys could spread the word, that would rock!

I hope you're all well. I'm still recovering from that finale, but don't worry - I won't be following that particular end. No need to stress - in my happy world, everyone lives.

xx, Leslie