She fell apart when Steve told her Bucky had died, soon becoming wracked with guilt over that one first moment and how she'd made him feel invisible within it. Steve had returned and told her the horrible news on Thanksgiving Day, and now it was New Years' Eve and the grief for a man she barely knew hadn't faded at all.

It was only amplified, screaming in her ears and heart and consuming her as she listened to Steve talk to her over the radio, telling her that there was no safe landing sight, that he was going to have to land in the water. She wanted to scream at the unfairness, at the terribleness, at the world. In that moment, her world shrank down – down to that one room and her tears and Steve's voice… and then static. Nothing but static and agony and loneliness.

She had seven soulmates and yet she was on her own once again. No more kisses in the dark as one of them or the other or both crept into her quarters after hours. No more of her two boys smiling over her head when they thought she wasn't paying attention, amused at whatever she'd done this time. There wasn't going to be anymore of her and Steve or Bucky smiling at one another from across the room, across the table, in a world of their own even in the middle of a crowded room.

Now she truly would be alone in a room.

The very thought had her doubled over in a chair, head in her hands, sobbing for hours that she had long lost count of.

Somewhere in the distance, a crowd exploded cheerfully with glee, so far removed from her own blinding pain as she realized in some far corner of her mind what was happening outside this room. Twelve peals of a bell sounded as yet another sob shook Peggy to the core.

And the New Year began.

November 21, 1945

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and, as of last night, according to Daniel Sousa's mother, they had a lot to be thankful for. But Daniel was having a hard time remembering that this morning.

He could practically hear his mother say, "Remember how lucky you are to have come home to us safely." But his leg hadn't followed him home – just agonizing ghost pains that reminded him of what he'd lost.

"You're blessed to have found such a good job so quickly after your return." But it wasn't at the telephone company, like his family thought, and everybody here looked down on him, thanks to his injury.

Case in point – the agent who had gotten a job with the SSR at the same time he did. Everybody admired Thompson in one way or another, and in the past two and a half months, he'd rocketed his way to being Chief Dooley's right hand man with Sousa admittedly being third on the totem pole, because he was still good at his job even if he couldn't be overly fast about it anymore. Yet Jack Thompson had thus far made a not so subtle point to ignore Daniel thanks to his crutch – to the point of refusing to even speak to him – thinking him unworthy of the unspoken position that he held. So Daniel made a point not to care, and didn't try talking to Thompson either.

Until today – because today was the day that Dooley must've decided that Daniel belonged in purgatory, because he assigned him and Thompson to be partners, for which Daniel was not thankful.

"Your first crime scene together is in Central Park," the chief declared, slapping a file down on the desk. "Now smile pretty, promise me you two are gonna behave yourselves, and go make me proud. Go on, get out of here."

The chief waved his hand towards his office door, dismissing them with a sharp glare that meant they weren't to protest – anymore than what they already had, that was. So Thompson rolled his eyes and snatched up the file, stalking out of the office with Daniel crutching his way behind him. They grabbed their and hats and suit jackets and moved towards the elevator, Daniel still struggling determinedly to keep up.

Thompson slammed the elevator button and glanced back at Daniel asking sarcastically, "You sure you can keep up, Agent Susan?"

Oh, no!

He couldn't be – not Jack Thompson! And yet those exact words were the ones wrapped around Daniel's right ankle. Finding the first of his seven soulmates had just become another thing for him to be unthankful for.

He blinked and Thompson stared, just waiting for a comeback until the elevator doors slid open.

Daniel brushed past Thompson and into the elevator, ordering in a low, flat voice, "Just stay out of my way and let me work, Thompson."

It was the other man's turn to blink, and they both took a deep breath when the elevator doors closed behind them both. Thompson let the air out of his lungs, suggesting while both of them stared at the opposite wall – and not at each other – "Let's be friends."

"Fair enough," Daniel nodded. "It's not like I'd want anything more from you."

Thompson snorted, a smirk twitching at the edges of his mouth as Daniel glanced hesitantly in his direction.

"What?" Thompson asked, catching his gaze.

There was no delicate way to put this, Daniel realized, so he might as well just be blunt. "Am I your only mark? 'Cause I don't think I'm either of the ones on your elbows."

Thompson eyed him, trying to size him up before he sighed and muttered, "You're on my left ankle." The next bit of information flew out of his mouth as Thompson looked away again before Daniel could find a non-incriminating way to ask the question. "I've got seven marks in all."

Daniel smiled at him, unreasonably thrilled to know that he no longer had to be alone in that. "Me too."

Thompson nodded with another half-smirk, asking the wall, "So, ah, we're not gonna mention this to anybody, right?"

"Fair enough," Daniel repeated as the elevator doors slid open.

This time Thompson accommodated his gait to stay at Daniel's side.