When she finally wakes, she dresses casually and steps out of the room. She knows exploring or poking around is not a good idea. But getting lost might work for her.
So she keeps in mind that there might be cameras anywhere and starts to trepidatiously walk through the halls. An expression of wariness as she turns corners like she's looking for another human.
And her suspicions about being watched in the halls are correct as a woman, plump and lively comes from around a corner and greets her, "are you lost, dear?"
"I feel it's much more serious than that." Peggy laughs, "I'm more than lost! I have no idea where even my destination is!"
The woman laughs, "come now, you must be starved."
"I am actually," Peggy admits, "thank you."
The woman leads her down a few hallways, down another two flights of stairs and through big metal swinging doors.
A few women mill about, making something and another few standing around and talking.
"The new addition." One of the women says with a smile, "how are you feeling?"
"Nervous." Peggy decides being honest is working, "very new."
The women laugh and someone is placing a cup of hot coffee in her hand, "cream and sugar?"
"Yes please." She smiles.
A plate of bread, jam, some sort of eggs with what looks like chives and potatoes is set before her. It smells amazing and she doesn't hesitate, digging in and thanking the women.
"So tell us about yourself?" The woman who had handed her the cream asks, "Foley is such a bare bones on details. We've met Steve a time or two, and all he's done is gush about you. We've been dying to finally meet you."
And the stupidest sentence exits her mouth, "he's been gushing about me?"
The women laugh, and the one who had led her downstairs smiles, "well, as much as a Rogers' can gush."
The words strike her, "you knew his mother?"
"Of course we knew Sarah." Anothe rolder one comments, "she was a firecracker in her youth. But a real nice woman."
"I wish I'd got the chance to meet her." She says honestly, "when I got tonknow Steve it was very clear to me he's been raised right."
They nod but the older one cuts in, "he'd be even better if he'd grown up where he belonged, with us."
And that reminds Peggy just where she is. Not that she'd forgotten but it's easy to get lost in kindness. "Of course." She nods, "I've been so thankful for Foley. He's given us a real chance to be a part of something."
Those are the right words and they all nod. "So," the plump woman asks again, "tell us about yourself!"
"Um…" she lets sheepishness cross her feautures, "I'm not Irish." They laugh and she grins back. "I actually was born in England but have lived here most of my life." These are her details that they'd set up originally. If anyone searched up a Peggy they'd find one. "I met Steve about 6 and a half years ago, and we've been married just over 5." She wrinkles his nose, "honestly I was sort of lost before I met him. Just kind of struggling through college and being stupid." She gives a wry smile, "but then I met him and I just knew. This was a man I wanted in my life."
"He's the sweetest." A woman about her mother's age says, "patching up Pip with his own broken rib. What a sweetheart."
Peggy nods, "he can't help himself."
"You guys lookin' to have kids?"
Peggy lets a soft smile cross her lips, "maybe some day."
"Your kids would be so adorable." A woman closer to her age says, "his eyes and your smile."
"That's kind of you to say." She smiles in response, "I'm looking forward to all stages of life with him." And it's a shockingly honest thought. She wants all stages of life with him.
"Foley says you've made it clear you don't like Steve hurt." They eye her with raised brows and she huffs, trying to think her response through thoroughly.
"He's quite stubborn." She says slowly, "and I know he's got a lot of fire and pride." She grins, "Steve that is." They laugh, "but he's also…" she lets concern cross her features, "very likely to run headlong into things. He'd much rather take the hit than let someone else. And I know he's strong, but he's also mine… and I know he's always—" and here she listens to Steve's advice from all those weeks ago. How people underestimate you if you're willing to be vulnerable. Embarrassed even. Few people are. "—he's always seemed like he's got something to prove."
They are quiet and thoughtful. And the oldest lady in the room nods and speaks quietly, "men usually feel that way. As long as he never has to prove himself to you, then he'll be alright. He's a good lad. And if you take care o' him. Foley will take care o' ya both."
"I will." Peggy promises. Telling the truth yet again. "I will."
—-
They become quick friends throughout the afternoon and evening. Penny, Norma, Sensa, Shirley, Grace, and Loughlin welcome her as one of their own. They show her around the facilities and the public areas. Peggy can't decide if it's a commune or simply a place of f convenience for them all to live together. Then she learns through slow snippets that the living arrangements are rather new. They're all preparing for the expected turmoil, and abandoning their homes without legally changing their address. That way if the Russians or anyone else goes after their listed addresses, all they will find are empty apartments filled with booby traps.
Peggy tries to take note and remember everything. She desperately wishes she had a piece of paper to try to keep track but there's no way to do so without being inconspicuous. The women seem to have no fear of speaking in front of her. And the men don't either. She can't tell if that's because of Steve, or simply because they're here in the headquarters. Probably both.
It's hours later, well into the night when she's back up in her room and hears a knock. She answers the door to see Pip. The young boy Steve had been tending to last night. "Yes?"
"We're back. Steve is too, but…" he looks nervous, wringing a hat in his hands.
"Is he alright?"
"Yes. He's just upset."
"Upset because?"
"Cuz of the little girls. The Russians had them."
Peggy feels her heart start beating, "little girls?"
The boy nods, stepping back, "he said he just needed a minute. But Foley sent me to get ya. Thought he might need ya."
"Where is he?"
The boy steps another step back, "kitchens. Washing dishes."
Peggy grabs her shoes and nods, "thank you."
—
His back is to her when she enters the kitchens. Two of the ladies are there, silently drying and putting away the things he's washing. She can see the tension in his shoulders, the stiff way he's silent and robotic.
And she wonders how many times this has happened before. He's been working for Foley for
Just over a month and yet this already seems like a routine. Perhaps at the bar before and now here.
Speaking of Foley. The man sits at the big island in the middle, a cigarette between his fingers but unlit.
His eyes catch hers and he nods. Then he double taps on the island and both the women look up. He gives a little wave and they nod. Stepping back and giving them room. One of the women hands her the drying towel and she accepts it. Stepping up beside Steve. She's not sure he's aware she's at his side. He keeps washing, scrubbing dishes harshly past when they're clean.
Foley is still in the room and she wonders about that. But… maybe not. He's sent for her. Not for her to just stand there and be silent. It's a slow realization he called her for Steve. To help him, calm him, whatever it was he needed. So slowly she reaches her hand into the sink and stills his. He's rigid, and his gaze is very far away. Whatever he saw… she wants to shudder. Not even after the death of that man right in front of him had he reacted like this.
Little girls
She leans over, kissing the side of his neck gently before resting her forehead in the same place. Wrapping her left arm behind him and around his waist.
She feels the tremble. He's so angry he's shaking. "It's alright." She whispers, the only thing she can think of to say.
"It's not." He grits out, "it's not alright." Her eyes flick back to Foley and he's watching them, but his eyes mostly on Steve.
"Tell me?" She asks.
"Those bastards." Steve growls out, "those bastards had them in a fucking shipping container."
"We will get them—"
"We should have done something now." Steve snaps, cutting Foley off, "but the time we make a move, it will be too late! Who knows where those girls will be and what will have been done to them!"
Foley falls silent and she can tell this is an argument they've already had. She's actually impressed, as sick as it makes her, that Steve didn't go against Foley's orders during whatever business dealing they were doing. But in her spy brain she knows he's just solidified himself in this group. She can't explain it, and she knows Steve was well entrenched before. But Foley sitting here, almost like a concerned watchful father over his enraged son, tells her that there are no longer any doubts in Foley's mind. Steve is one of them.
She's torn on how proud she is of him for that.
But it's true. He's the best partner she's ever worked with. But it's because he's not faking anything. And it's why Foley is fooled as well. Because there's no fooling going on. It simply is just who Steve is.
She takes over, turning the water cooler, rinsing the soap off his hands, drying them with the towel and pulling him from the sink.
He's pliant under her hands and she turns him to face her. And she expects anger. And it is there. But what takes her breath away is the pure devastation on his face.
Without much thought, she steps forward, wrapping him in an embrace and holding him tightly. Again she rests her face against the soft skin of his neck. The tension and anger sag out of him, and he seems to take her offered comfort as a lifeline, holding her back.
Her lips find his neck once again. She's selfish. Steve will think it's a show for Foley. Foley will think it's a sweet gesture to Steve. But it is really her desire to comfort and have every part of Steve for herself.
Without releasing Steve, she looks over at Foley, "what is going to be done?"
"We're making plans." Foley responds easily, "this isn't a new trade for the russians. But it is picking up pace." Steve stiffens again at the words and she tightens her hold.
"When are these… plans?" She asks slowly, trying to seem like she's trying to set Steve at ease.
"Soon. Someone dangerous is getting out of prison in just a few days and if he's to take power then we will all be in trouble. So the strike is happening in two days time."
It takes every bit of her wits to not stare at him in shock. They were planning a strike on the Russians before Morneaux was released. The SSR had assumed it would all come crashing together after his release.
But now knowing the history behind Morneaux and Foley… It's not surprising. He wants to burn down Morneaux's kingdom before he's even allowed to step back foot in it.
Steve turns, doing a good job of looking confused. Probably because they both actually are. "Two days? I thought…"
"The timeline has been moved up. But more… it was something you didn't need to know. But now that you've seen the truth behind their vile rule. I'll want you there. On the front line with me."
True fear thrills through her, "wait—" she breathes out, "but—"
"Good." Steve cuts her off, "I want to be there. Good. Where is this happening?"
"You know the old factory where we had you meet the Kilv brothers?"
She remembers those names being sent or Phillips. "Yes." Steve answers. "I do."
"A block and a half from there is their headquarters. They think we don't know. That we think it's still on the wharf, but we've got one of ours planted in there—" how ironic, "—- and we know more details than they can possibly understand. We'll cut out their heart and feed it to them."
"And when we take over." Steve says, his voice darker and more demanding than she's ever heard, "trafficking stops." He's shifted, eyes straight on Foley. "I can deal and allow a lot of things. But trafficking human beings, children, especially for sick men's pleasures, is something I won't allow. And if you disagree then I won't hesitate to become your biggest problem."
Dangerous. Threatening the leader of the second most powerful mob in the city. Steve shouldn't be lighting a match over and seeing if Foley will call his bluff.
But Foley studies Steve and then he nods slowly, "I'll expect the lost income to be replaced."
Steve scoffs, "once we have their store of artwork and goods I'll make sure of that."
Foley's grin is positively pleased, "then you have a deal."
Dread fills her as Steve responds quietly, "deal."
—
She's unnecessarily touchy and at his side. But he doesn't even seem to be half paying attention, and anyone who sees them just assumes that's either how they normally are or that she's comforting him.
At first she can't explain why his reaction is causing them to trust him more or why it seems to please them so. But then she realizes it's because they think he hates the Russians far more now. That he's truly one of them.
And she finds that thought laughable. At first.
Until they finally get back to their bedroom and she asks, "how are you, really?" Still wary of the fact they could be being listened too.
"They're lucky I didn't take my pistol out right there and then and put them down like the monsters they are."
Her throat goes dry. It's either the best acted sentiment in the history of the world… or it's true.
She doesn't ask which.
—
The next day is spent preparing. She does her absolute best to remember everything. Then she takes copious notes when she has the opportunity, and she risks sending them encoded through her phone instead of the more secure physical drop off.
She had briefly asked if she could run out to her apartment and grab something, as a ruse to go drop off information, but they had said they didn't want her out without protection and would either grab it for her or send someone with her.
She had laughed and said it could be grabbed. Quickly coming up with a list (her clothes in the laundry, her soap in the shower, and a more comfortable pair of shoes in the closet by the door).
The stuff had been in her room in less than 90 minutes. And she was impressed and exasperated by her inability to pass information in a way she felt confident with.
So she had to go with the way she felt unconfident.
Jack had responded quickly to her email, and had added a line to ask 'where the hell they were' and 'what the hell was going on'. She could only give the barest encoded response, because she could only grab a few minutes of time here and there. She was far more concerned about being involved and hearing the rest of the details.
Steve was quiet. Listening intently and she could tell he was formulating his own plan, but she couldn't worry about that now. He would need to listen to her when the time came.
—-
That night they're sitting in bed and she's formulating her email to include as much as she can remember. At the end she hands him her phone, he studies it, nodding occasionally, and then adds a detail he must have overheard or understood in Gaelic that she hadn't caught. Those books they'd originally been after hadn't even been seen yet. But unbelievably with Steve as their in-man they hadn't needed them.
He hands her the phone back and she sends it.
"It's going to be very ugly." She says softly.
"I know." He responds. "But they have to go."
If they're being listened to, it's the Russians they're talking about. But she knows he means all of them.
That feeling. The dread creeps up her spine and fills her gut. The crippling fear that somehow she's going to lose him.
"What does Foley want you to do."
Steve sighs and leans back, eyes on the ceiling, "mostly stay out of it. When we hit the warehouses he wants me and a team he's assigned me to be packing the trucks to be sent to unlisted warehouses where they'll be repacked and sent to another place to throw off anyone who might track."
"That's good, at least you'll be out of the way of danger."
He laughs, without much humor, "those places are stacked with people with guns, but we're going in prepared, so that's good."
"Steve?"
He turns to her, his sharp features and blue eyes and blonde hair. The tiredness under his eyes but the strength of spirit lying just beneath the skin.
She wants to kiss him.
No.
She needs to kiss him.
And the dread makes her act like a human. Not a professional. Her hand snags his pajama shirt and she pulls him towards her, not even allowing him a chance to deny her. His lips meet hers, and she ignores his obvious surprise and hesitancy and just goes for it. Wrapping him in her arms and holding him against her.
She expects him to meet her, to join her in the kiss, like he has before. But after a few seconds he pulls back and looks at her in confusion. Then he grabs his phone and types:
they're not watching us
And lets her read it.
A sick feeling fills her and she either has to tell the truth or let him think what he was already thinking.
Indecision wars within her as he just sets his phone down on the nightstand and leans back on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes to go to sleep.
Eventually she chickens out, setting her own phone down and turning off the light.
—-
The next day, the last before the raid gets interrupted by a man running into the main area looking frazzled.
People react to his appearance like he's a ghost. She looks at Steve but Steve looks as confused as she feels .
"What are you doing here?" Foley snaps, "did someone follow you? This could ruin—"
"Morneaux!" The man shouts, causing Foley to fall silent, "they've released him early!"
—-
All hell breaks loose for a while, and she pretends to be harried and nervous as she starkly pays attention to every detail being said. They get him some water and food and then sit him down and get the details.
This man, Jess, was the plant in the Russian line. He's been there for over a year, and hadn't had contact with the Irish in all that time except to pass messages along.
He'd had to book it and run when he heard Morneaux was coming to the Russian compound as the man might remember him.
She discovers that Morneaux is widely regarded for having a photographic memory and they had met in a street fight many years before.
The women are instructed to leave the room and she doesn't hesitate to pop up and leave. Steve is listening for her.
—
She doesn't see him again until that night. He informs her the raid is still on and that Foley is adjusting to accommodate for the extra threat.
Her innate sense of constant dread gets stronger each hour. Something dreadful is going to happen.
Steve is strangely calm, and she can't fathom how. How someone so unused to undercover work is so calm. They write their last email, filling them in on the update.
"Are you afraid?" She asks softly as they lay in bed. "I'm afraid."
Steve gives the standard answer, "Foley is not to be messed with. He's going to protect us." Then he adds a mischievous grin and a chuckle, "and how could I be in danger with you at my back, huh? You're the one I know would keep me safe."
She knows it's half joke for show, but also half truth to alert her he knows she's in his hands. The trust is crushing, and she knows she'll do anything to ensure that happens.
—-
The next day dawns rainy. It dampens the sound in the building and makes everything even more silent than it already is.
The loudest part is the pots and pans in the kitchens. Everyone is fed well and the plans are quietly gone over. She's a bit nervous as there was no response to her email. But she knows they're busy preparing, and one additional man won't make a huge difference in preparation wise. She hopes…
After the meal is finished, group after group is dispatched throughout the city to lie in wait for the trap to spring.
Steve is one of the last, thankfully, and he is dispatched with a large team and 6 trucks that are all to take a separate driving route until informed to converge. She kisses his soft and quick, not wanting him to pull back again. But he doesn't hesitate or do anything but kiss her back and smile at her before pulling himself up into the passenger seat of the truck and heading out.
Foley kisses one of the women she hasn't seen much, presumably his wife, and then gets into a sleek black sedan. "When we return ladies—" he tells the group of women standing in the large underground car garage, "— you'll be queens of a new empire." Then he's gone and the women stand there quietly for a while before peeling back into the building.
And Peggy wonders how many of them will have husbands before this day is through.
—
She shrieks and screams and thrashes just as much as the other women as the SSR takes over the compound. She even gets in a sharp elbow to Thompson's gut for good measure. He glares at her but she just continues to pretend to try to get away as they collect the women into the vans.
Unsurprisingly, many of the women are armed but she can't worry about what happens to them or her colleagues because she's being hauled into a van and then driven away.
Phillips helps her and releases the ties around her wrists.
He's smiling at her, "already got the entire force, the feds, and half the stationed men watching the sites you sent. When it starts to go down we will be there to take them all down."
She nods, "alright perfect, take me to Steve."
"We've got a team on the way to pick him up—"
"No." She snaps, "I'm going. Take me there."
"I'm not blowing your cover yet." He says with a raised eyebrow, "we don't know how this will play out. Steve knows his part of the plan. He's getting arrested just like the rest of them and then will be released."
Her professional self wages against the dread in her gut. "I don't think we should wait." She tries to say calmly, "I just have this feeling—"
"A feeling?" Thompson asks with a scoff, "please—"
"It's the same feeling I felt before I found out my own brother had been killed in action." She shoots back, "I just know we need him out of the field as soon as possible."
"Well, we can't do anything till the chaos starts. So far we think we got all the women and kids without anyone sending off an sos, but we don't have confirmation of that yet."
"Better not," Thompson grumbles, "don't want to start this shit all over again."
Phillips nods. "He's right, we have to let Foley think he's got the upper hand. If he smells fish then he's going to book it and re plan for another day. We can't afford that."
"Fine, then put me at least on the team that will pick up Steve."
"No can do, Carter—"
"Phillips—"
"They're already dispatched. They're lying in wait, ready to go."
"I need—"
"To let us do our jobs." Phillips commands. "Trust us. Will you?"
She doesn't answer. But she does stay quiet.
—
They've reached their destination and are in the armory when Thompson pokes her shoulder and is grinning.
"Was I right?"
She checks her gun cartridge and slams it back into place as she slips into the holster. "About what?"
"Did the runt confess his love? Was he a nice toy to have in the bedroom?"
—
The next thing she remembers is someone hauling her off of Thompson.
He's got a massive split lip and a forming black eye. And he's looking at her with a lot of fear.
"Next time you insinuate anything of the kind they'll not be able to stop me from ripping your head off, you fucking asshole!"
She turns to shove whoever hauled her off only to stop and blink at the sight of Dugan. "Dum-Dum?"
He doesn't respond all the way, looking around her at Thompson who is half off a bench and hasn't moved an inch. He grins, "yeah. How's it going, Carter? Making friends?"
She huffs, stepping over the bench and around Dugan to exit the armory. Ignoring the way people are staring.
"Where's Steve?" She winces at Dugan's question.
"They're bringing him in with the whole Irish crew. So he's still out there."
Dugan makes a huffing noise and she turns, "what?"
"He's being brought in today though. Right?"
"Yes." She answers. "Why?"
She's never seen Dugan look nervous, "because Monty and I got word that Barnes is due in in three days. And we just want to make sure Steve's safe and sound."
Peggy frowns, "why?"
"Barnes is sort of protective over Steve. They grew up together."
Memories of their previous conversation and the one she overheard him have with Monty ring in her mind. "Right. Well—" the words stick. She wants to say he'll be back in no time, safe in no time. Alive in no time.
But she can't manage them.
So Dugan snatches a pair of keys out of his pocket and shakes them, "wanna get some fresh air?"
She grins, "oh hell, yes."
—
Five minutes after they've secretly left the SSR, her radio chirps with the "hostiles engaged, move in!"
"Faster, Dugan." She commands.
His foot presses harder, but city traffic only lets them go so fast. The sun is tripping towards the edge and dusk is quickly approaching.
"We have to get to him before dark." She whispers out, keeping her eyes on the map.
"We will."
—-.
Except he's not there.
Three of the trucks lay open, half filled and looking as if whoever was working on them will be right back.
One is driven halfway out of the wharf, blood spread all over the cab and pooled in the driver's seat.
The other two trucks are missing completely.
Shell casings, an empty pistol, and blood spray is evident around the large rolled up door.
"If he was dead, he'd probably still be here."
"No." Her voice is hoarse, "the Irish wouldn't leave their dead."
"That only matters if any of the Irish were alive to be able to leave."
The sun is blinding against the water as it sinks, turning the sky a bloody orange that seems to mock her.
"Come on." She growls out, "we're not giving up. Let's go find him."
Dugan just follows.
—-
They check the two places the trucks were supposed to go after leaving the original storehouse, but it's clear no one made it there.
Phillips had tried calling her a few times, but she knows he's also busy spearheading one of the largest takedowns in New York history so she ignores it.
She receives a text after she hadn't picked up as they were driving towards the main Russian stronghold.
Quite the shiner Thompsons got. He told me Dugan showed up. Don't die. And don't do anything stupid enough that I'd have to fire you for.
She just likes the message and then directs Dugan to turn left.
—-
It's ablaze.
The entire three building apartment complex, the now known front for the Russian mob is billowing black smoke and spewing people out its front and sides.
The orange flickering light from the fire is gruesome against the darkening sky.
A police line, feds, and military are trying to usher people out and assess the disaster. But it's the gun fire from inside that draws her attention.
The rain is starting back up and she is thankful as it helps the fire a bit.
"We need to get inside." She says quickly.
"We don't even know if he's in there."
"Well we have to check!"
"Would they have brought a hostage to their currently up in flames operation?" Dugan is looking at her, an eyebrow raised as if to say think.
"I don't know."
A sound pulls her from her thoughts and she pulls out her phone, almost expecting it to be Phillips.
But it says Steve.
She slides answer and gasps, "Steve? Steve, where are you! Are you alright?"
"Back at the compound." He says in a rush, "should be fine. We came back when the ambush went south." She can hear voices and realizes he's with other men, "where are all the women? Are you guys alright?"
"Put me on speaker." Steve does and she begins speaking, adding franticness to her voice. "They came in so fast. I don't even know who they were, they didn't look Russian. Then I saw a badge and freaked. The men I saw were clearly feds. They tried to round us all up but I was able to make it out before they saw me. Then I ran straight to your cousin, the one in the military? Tim?"
She hopes Steve remembers Dugan's first name.
"Oh," he responds easily, his voice sounding far away, "okay, that's good. You safe there with him?"
"Yes, I'm safe, but I have no idea where the rest of the women went. Have you been in contact with Foley, is everyone else alright?"
"We don't know, they're jamming those radios. Tried calling over cell but no answer."
"How could this be happening?" She asks in a panic, "what do we do?"
He hears discussion and then Steve sighs, "yeah," she hears him say, "I agree." Then he comes back, speaking directly into the phone. "We have to go try to help Foley. Stay with Tim. He'll keep you safe. I'll come to you as soon as possible."
"Steve, wait—" she says quickly, "no, please don't go towards danger. Foley didn't want you on the front lines."
"We're not going to meet up with him. But I'm not leaving this operation in danger." Steve responds calmly, "I can't just stay here and do nothing."
And it hits her that he's right. He can't just sit there and tell the men to go on without him. They'd get suspicious. They'd shoot him on the spot if they knew he was a mole.
"Where is Foley?" She asks, pushing the boundaries, "if you haven't contacted him, how do you know where he is?"
"We think he's at the main front or where the Russians' tangible cash is. It's one of the places Jess told us about that we didn't know. But we're headed to the weapons cache. He wanted it locked down so we could get the weapons and cash under his control all in one go."
"Isn't there another group there already?"
"Yes, but this is vital we get control of it. Without those weapons we won't win so we're going to go help."
"You'll be careful?" She asks softly.
"Always am." He responds. "Love you. Stay safe."
Then he hangs up.
She looks up at Dugan and says, "I know the address, we'll meet him there, get him out."
Dugan is quiet and then he tilts his head, "what Thompson insinuated…"
"We say I love you as part of the cover." She snaps out, "don't prove me wrong. I thought you were better than this."
"Not him." Dugan says quietly. "You. You're different than the last time I saw you. Defensive of him."
"It's my job."
"I know my nickname is Dum-Dum, but I'm not actually an idiot."
She doesn't respond, just storming back towards the car.
—
As they drive, there's an obvious tension in the city streets, like it can tell something awful is going down.
They're only one block away when Dugan gets a call.
"Hello?" She just hears a long silence and then a sigh. "Can't anyone else be called in?" Another silence and then a deeper sigh. He pulls off to the side, and looks at her. "I have to go back."
"What?" She asks, "why?"
"They're mobilizing my unit for the rescue now. I'm the only Captain in the tri state area with my access codes and rank abilities in my unit. I wasn't supposed to even leave where I was but I figured it would be fine." He shrugs, "It must be getting ugly faster than they can clean up. I have to go take lead."
"Okay." She nods, "okay, fine. I'll get Steve."
"I'm going to call a few people, try to get you some backup."
"There should be units there…" she says, "unless they really are being stretched that thin."
She opens the door, hopping out and closing the door. He salutes at her and she salutes back, taking the next alley and running down it.
—-
There's a few police cars and a military vehicle but they're all empty.
And It's quiet on the whole street.
Which is almost more unnerving than if there was screaming and running.
Her eyes land on what looks like an old bank.
She has no idea if Steve is there… But she has to get in there and check. She sprints across the street, drawing her pistol and finding an open door.
—
Dead bodies are strewn everywhere. Several policemen, and someone clearly Russian are lying still in a stairwell.
She passes nothing living for a long time, but follows the sound of rumbles down underground.
Three levels down she exits the stairwell because of the sounds she hears and runs into military. They point their weapons at her but she flashes her badge, "where is the fight?" She asks, looking at the pile of bodies and then two men who are tied up but unconscious.
They point to an elevator. "Everyone we know has come out of here." He points to the unconscious bodies, "surrendered." Then he points to the dead. "Didn't surrender. Below is the weapons cache. The Irish and Russians are duking it out right now. We'll clean up who is alive when they are done."
"Is this the only way in and out?"
"Yeah. There used to be an old prison ward down there for extra dangerous criminals, so this is the only entry and exit point."
"Okay well you'll need to let me in."
"No can do, we're ordered to wait it out."
"Unacceptable. My CI could be down there and I need to check. Ask Phillips."
"Colonel Phillips?" She rolls her eyes, grabbing her phone, dialing, and putting it on speaker.
"Hello?"
"I know you're dealing with a shit storm. But I need you to tell these men to let me pass. Steve is possibly trapped down in a fishbowl and they're just waiting till the firing stops. I need to go in there and pull him out."
"Let her pass." The man says firmly, "Carter, Foley isn't here."
She freezes. "What?"
"He's not in the apartment buildings. And I just got word he's not in the second location he was going to be."
Her eyes flick to the elevator. "Shit, that means he could be here."
"Be careful. There's a lot of damage, a lot of noise…"
She pauses, hearing Phillips hesitate, "but?"
"Feels like I'm watching a show. Lots of noise. Not a lot of anything real. Someone's pulling the curtains or our puppet strings. Feels that way anyhow."
"Did you get Morneaux?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you catch Morneaux? Was he in the apartments?"
"Carter, Morneaux is still in prison."
She blinks. "What? No, he's not."
"Excuse me?"
"I sent an email last night! Morneaux was being released early!"
There's a silence. She can hear him radioing someone else but can't hear what.
"I don't have an email from you. The last one I have is from 31 hours ago." Then a longer silence and she can hear comms people in the background. "I just got word. Morneaux is still in prison. He has two more days."
Dread fills her. What sort of trickery had this been?
"You're right then, something is wrong." She says tersely, "some game being played we don't know the rules of, be careful."
"Same to you."
He's about to hang up, "wait."
"Yes?"
"Make up some story about my escape. Put out an apb with my face."
"Will do."
She hangs up and gestures for them to open the elevator door.
—
Three men confront her that she doesn't recognize. They try to kill her.
She beats them to it.
The fourth is more lucky, getting a strike to her face and a bullet grazing her rib. But as she puts him down, she's almost grateful as she now at least looks the part of an escapee.
Something throws her sense of direction off and she pauses, standing in a crossroads of hallways. That blood smear on the wall. She's seen it before.
Adrenaline pumps to realize this area has probably been designed to be confusing and she was not paying close enough attention. She backtracks, until she's at the elevator door again, and takes a mental note of every turn, every step. She uses blood from her own wound to mark X's on the walls leading back towards the elevator.
Then she hears a rumbled boom and knows she's running out of time.
—-
Pip is the first face she sees that she recognizes. He's bleeding from somewhere in his hair and he looks dazed as he sits against a wall, gun in his lap.
"Pip!" She shrieks, sliding down on her knees to his side, "Pip, are you alright?"
"Miss Peggy?" He says softly, "y'u're—" he struggles to get the next words out, "—not sup'osed ta be here."
"I know." She says firmly, pressing a hand to his head, trying to stop the bleeding wound. Then she retracts her hand in shock as she doesn't feel a cut, but a bullet hole. Her eyes are wide but she tries to remain calm. "Are you here on guard duty?"
He nods, then falls still as his face gets paler, "Foley tol' me ta res' and watch."
She nods, realization that perhaps sheer will is all that is keeping this young man conscious, "that's good, just stay here. Alright? We will come back for you."
"I will." He whispers.
"Is Steve down here?"
"He's—" Pip says, in a barely whisper.
"Pip?" She can't seem to decide if any thought flitting through his mind can be trusted at the moment. But she has to try. "Pip, is he down here?"
He seems to try to respond, a slow tilt of his head, but then he goes still and his eyes glaze and he's gone.
Peggy closes his eyes and stands, dread tripling.
—
Six more Russians, and one more Irish are between her and where she can hear chaos happening. It's a huge vault door and it's open but she can't see inside, as the door is so thick and only partially unlatched.
There's really not much to be done other than to use all her might to try to peel the door open. It rests on large hinges, creaking but doesn't so much as move.
A long moment passes, where she's trying to decide what to do, but before she can settle on a decision, a thunderous boom above her sends rubble and debris crashing around her. The lights flicker and something slams to the ground near her, a light she thinks.
She backs around the corner and is trying to decide whether to run or try the door again. She curses instead, pulling out her phone, dialing Philips.
It doesn't ring through. She's too far underground.
She's about to try the door again when she hears a "Peggy?"
She whips around and sees Steve, standing there in shock, pistol in his grip and blood covering his arms.
"Steve!" She races over, crashing into him and holding him, "are you alright? Are you injured?"
"I'm… I'm fine." He huffs out, "how did you get here?"
"Dugan brought me." She says in a rush, "come on, we need to get you out of here."
He shakes his head, "no, I can't leave."
"What? Why not?"
"Foley's down there with the Russian's second in command, having a standoff, Wesley's somewhere, Pip is probably dead by now and I need to find the second exit."
She grabs his arm, "What? I thought there was only one!"
He frowns, "we thought so too, but there's another and they've gotten the majority of the weapons out before we could get to them. We can't lose them, they'll disappear forever."
Her brain wracks through the options. "I can't get ahold of Phillips… I need to get more units down here…"
"Okay, I'll get Foley and maybe try to find that exit."
"What? Steve, no. You need you to listen to me." He nods, ready to listen. "I need you to get out of here—"
"Wait—"
"No, listen. It's too dangerous for you. I need you safe. You know the way back to the SSR—"
"Peggy—"
"It's going to be fine. Tell them about the second exit—" Gunfire and shouting from inside the vault make them both startle and they scuttle back further, her practically dragging him. "Have them send more men."
"No. I'm not leaving you!"
"Steve. I'll be fine."
He looks frustrated, "I'm not worried about you! I know you're fine. I can't leave, I'm not safe unless I'm with you."
The words catch her off guard, "what?"
"They know everything about me. The Russians will kill me for being Irish and the Irish will kill me for being a spy or a traitor, whichever they figure out first. I'm only safe when I'm with you."
Those words tear at her heart. "Steve—"
"No, Peggy, we don't have time to argue about this! I'm staying with you!"
The vault door starts to creak open and she hauls him back further, hiding around the next corner and checking that her pistol has enough ammo.
She can hear Foley yelling. Someone else's voice she recognizes is answering.
"Go to them." She whispers quietly, "I'll follow you."
He frowns, "Peggy-"
"When you find the second exit, I'll come grab you and we'll leave then. Okay?"
He's shaking his head, "no, I can just feel it, we should stick together."
She does want him out of danger this very second. But with the steps she can hear getting closer, they're running out of options. It's either they both run and risk the whole operation or they take the chance. Peggy takes a deep breath. "Just go. I''ll follow you, okay? I'll keep you safe."
He does not look happy but he nods, disappearing around the corner. She hears him and Foley talking and they start to walk towards her. She hides, ducking behind an open door and then quietly tiptoeing after them.
—-
It takes the better part of an hour, but they finally locate the second exit.
And of course it's through a maintenance closet with a sewer cover. She watches as they disappear, one by one, climbing the metal ladder downwards.
She waits a significant amount of time knowing they would easily hear her climbing down if she was too close behind.
When the first split in the tunnel happens, she silently thanks a pair of footprints that very clearly stepped into a puddle that was out of its walking path and then kept walking as normal, the wet marks leading her in the correct direction. Steve continues to astound her.
Then she gets close enough to follow by the noise they make, and she stays a good distance behind making sure to make mental note of any of the street markers she sees.
Suddenly they're climbing another ladder and she wonders why. What had they seen that had made them choose this one?
But as she approaches, she sees it, the bloody handprints on each wrung. Whoever had climbed this last hadn't made it out of the bank before the Irish had gotten there.
She climbs, wiping the blood on her jeans after and follows the grimy footprints through linoleum hallways until she hears gunfire. Then she runs.
—-
She almost slips into view as she tries to slow herself down. She crouches, peeking around the corner to see six surprised Russian men, staring wide eyed at Foley who has a gun in his hand, and a body at his feet. Wesley, Jess, and Steve stand in formation behind him.
"There are more of us—" a Russian man spits out, "than there are of you."
She watches as that man cracks to the floor. The echo of the gunshot deafening the small room.
Chaos follows, shots firing and people shouting and scrambling.
One of the men ends up half way beside her on the ground, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. But she can't focus on that. The men are fleeing and she jumps up, trying to see where Steve went, but he's out of her sight. Only the sight of Jess, staring at the carnage in shock, keeps her from bolting after them.
But slowly he grabs a pistol and heads in a different direction.
Half of the story clicks.
—
Peggy races through the hallways, following shouting and gunfire to the point where it feels ridiculously like an overly exertive action movie. She makes a call to Phillips, who thankfully answers. "Where are you?" he asks.
"I don't know, I traveled through sewers." She instructs him to track her phone and to send units immediately. But she knows it will take a while and she can't wait so she keeps moving. She's out of breath as she ascends several flights of stairs, and carefully pushes the door to ensure she isn't going to be seen.
Then she steps out and pauses.
A shudder runs through her at the sight. An old bullpen. She looks around and realizes they're in an abandoned police precinct.
For some reason that makes her adrenaline pump faster and she takes off running again.
—-
She finally catches up to them, having reconvened in a small room that she recognizes as an interrogation room. She crouches again, peeking through the doorway below eye level so they won't see her. Foley is standing there, a man in his arms, gun pointed at his temple. A Russian man stands diagonally across from him, holding Wesley hostage. Steve is nowhere to be found and the standoff is tense and ready to blow.
"How about we chat about this nice and slow." Foley says, "you let my man go, and I don't rip your face off with a bullet."
"You first." The man across from him sneers. "But you will not leave here alive." He shakes Wesley viciously, "none of you Irish dogs will."
And she takes a very wild chance, standing, drawing their attention. "We've all been fooled." She makes sure she sounds partially wild, voice emotional and off kilter. Guns point at her immediately, but she keeps her eyes on Foley. She raises her hands in surrender, although the pistol is still in her grip.
"What are you doing here?" Foley asks, voice dangerous.
"After the women got rounded up by feds—" the men's eyes widen and she realizes just how out of the loop they are. They thought everything was going to hell because of the Russians and the early release of Morneaux. They have no idea how far down their operation has been burned. "—I got my way free, catching them off guard, and went to a cousin of Steve's. He's military, and we don't usually have much involvement with him but I was scared. He told me a big operation was taking place today." She points at the hallway, "and I want Jess to answer for his treachery!"
They all look momentarily stunned, but Foley is still skeptical, "what are you talking about? And just how did you get free?"
She doesn't answer his questions, acting hysterical, "we need to find Jess! He's at fault for all of this!"
Foley steps closer, dragging his hostage with him, "now calm down, lass. You seem to be getting things confused—"
"I'm not!" She shrieks, "he tricked you into thinking the Russians didn't know you were coming! But they did! They knew!"
"What?"
"They knew you were coming to ambush! He helped them plan this!"
"Now—"
"Morneaux is still in prison." She drops that like a bomb. She looks over at the Russian man, "right? He's not been let out yet?"
The man nods and Foley seems enraged, pointing his gun at her. The room goes silent, "and how in the hell would you know that?"
"Because I asked Steve's cousin. Begged him to check for me. Things went to hell so fast I knew something had happened. And guess what?" She points her gun back at Foley, stepping closer and hoping no one will decide to shoot her first. "He's still in prison!" And even as she says it, she figures out the rest of the whole plot. It lays itself right in front of her. Logical. Calculated. "This was all a trick." She gasps, covering her mouth, "he planned this whole thing!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Morneaux!" She shouts, "he's having you both hack each other to pieces! Weaken the leadership. I bet whoever is in charge of the Russians wouldn't want Morneaux to come back and take his old leadership role back. Right?" She looks again to the Russian man holding Wesely who seems to be deep in thought even as the gun is still pressing deeply into Welsey's throat. "But if you both were scattered… Once he's out, he will swoop in and take charge of both sectors! He used him—" she gestures to the hallway again, "Jess, to get you to be rash and take a risk—"
"This whole ambush was already planned—" Foley says firmly, "not rushed-"
It's all so crystal clear now. "And who got you that information!?" She bellows, "who told you all that you know?"
Again the room goes deadly quiet. All the details, all the locations… everything she'd learned and transferred to Phillips from the Irish. Which in turn, was from their plant Jess, in the Russian family. Who was in the pocket of Morneaux. All a bunch of lies.
Had they even gotten any of the big players?
Foley turns slowly to the Russian man and then looks down at the man in his arms. Both who look pale as death. "Convince me that what she's saying isn't true."
They don't speak, unsure of what's real themselves and she takes the opportunity to step forward, "now what we need to do, is find Jess, and find Steve and—"
The door behind her slams, causing everyone to startle. She hears a lock click and she's about to start shooting at it when a mechanized voice starts speaking through the little box in the corner on the ceiling.
"This is all really a fun learning conversation but I'm afraid your time's up."
They all look over to the glass that they can't see through.
Foley raises his gun, ready to shoot it out when the voice speaks again, "you don't think I'm back here alone do you? I've got one of yours. You're shooting blind. Which one of us might you hit?"
Her blood runs cold. Steve.
"What's the plan?" She snarls, "what do you want? Why stay here when you could just run!"
"Oh , I'm going to. Even with the whole damn national guard surrounding this block as we speak. I just wanted to pass along a message first."
"And what message is that?" Foley spits at the mirror.
"Morneaux sends his regards. And hopes you'll go to the grave knowing you were outmaneuvered by a man behind bars. That's how poor you run your operation."
Foley growls, obviously recognizing the voice now. "Lorne." Foley spits, "I should have known."
The man laughs but then sighs, "listen, old habits die hard, isn't that what they say?"
"I'll gut you-" Foley snarls, "Face me like a man!"
The glass flickers, revealing what's on the other side.
A man she doesn't recognize, holding Steve's neck using him as a shield, and who knows what they'd end up hitting if they shoot the glass. But the man is smiling, "you wanted to see me? Here I am."
"Steve—" she breathes out. He looks concerned, eyes staying on her. Hands gripping the large one around his neck, unable to speak.
"You really just can't seem to take care of your family, can you, Foley?"
"Let him go." Peggy bites out.
"Unfortunately, those are not my instructions. This one has to take the long way home if you catch my meaning."
Those words simultaneously confuse her and enrage her, "over my dead body!"
"Don't make promises you don't want to keep." The man says, with an easy grin, "Foley pledge your undying loyalty to Morneaux and he'll even let you keep control of some of your streets."
"I'll never!"
"I'll take that as a no. You're sure?" Foley snarls and Lorne laughs, "Great. This is just great." The man laughs, "plan B it is then. Did I mention there's an explosive rigged to your door?"
They all turn to see Jess, staring at them through the small glass window in the door, a grin on his face and waving a remote detonator.
Then Lorne's voice speaks again, in a sing-song tone. "Made you look!"
Peggy turns back and Lorne has taken the hand around Steve's neck and covered his mouth. The man's other hand now holds a large knife. She watches as time slows down. Lorne pulls back, then slams his hand forward, causing Steve's chest to arch up as the force of the knife entering his back pushes him up.
She lets out a sound that she can't describe, watching in horror as his eyes widen in shock and then scrunch tight in pain.
"Your brother and now your nephew. Poetic, no?" Lorne says with a smile, yanking the knife out of Steve like it's nothing.
She's pounding on the glass, shouting, staring at his limp body like a madwoman. The glass shatters and she tips forward, losing balance and having to catch herself on the edge, slicing her hands. She turns to see Foley, gun pointed at the glass, staring at the man like he's seen a ghost.
Foley pulls back the hammer to take another shot but she watches as Lorne grins, unphased, and then she hears a sharp beep and her world gets blown to hell.