xxruinaxxmcu

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson x Reader

Previous Chapters 

What Lies Before US

Chapter 19

A/N: once again thank you @clinicallydepressedreader for the lovely reblog of the last chapter! I do appreciate every like/feedback a great deal. 

The next morning, before the sun had made its way above the horizon, the two of them packed up their things in the office before making their way back to the bunker. It was still locked, so Jack entered the code to gain access.

“Seems like no one broke out”, he commented sarcastically.

They were greeted by silence as they made their way back towards the interrogation chamber. The first person they came across was Sousa, who looked like he hadn’t slept much.

“You look a bit under the weather”, Y/N said with a small smile, “Everything alright?”

The brunet nodded. “Yeah. Peggy’s asleep. So is her brother.”

“Did you get anything?”, Jack asked, pointing towards the interrogation room with his chin.

“Yeah”, he huffed, “seems like you really are our best interrogator, Jack. What a pity you’ll switch agencies.” He paused: “Apparently, he was captured in 1940 and brought to a facility in East Prussia, where he underwent torture for several years. After the war, HYDRA found new allies in the Soviet Union interested in their research, so the base continued in Kaliningrad.”

“So the Soviets know about that entire mind control stuff?”, Thompson asked, crossing his arms with a scowl. This was bad. HYDRA was a rogue organisation without a state to back it, but the Soviet Union had an entire apparatus behind it.

“Yeah”, Daniel confirmed, “he mentioned that they continued to work on their technique, improve the compliance of their subjects.”

“That’s why he’s only the BETA candidate”, Y/N threw in, “There must be an ALPHA, too. Someone who’s been trained better. That’s what they outlined in that booklet, too. Does he have details on that person?”

Daniel shook his head: “They made sure for candidates not to meet.”

“And do we know if he’s stable without a handler? Or is he just going to revert back into mad-mode?”, Jack questioned.

“I give no guarantees”, Daniel scoffed, “but I think without Keller’s orders, it should be fine. We’ll still send him to see a psychiatrist to look into possible de-programming, in case we were to ever run into another HYDRA scientist again.” His head turned to Y/N. “Thank you, Y/N. I know you could’ve shot him to get our mission done with less personal risk.”

She waved her hand: “Daniel. I’ve pulled the trigger too quick too often. I suppose I can try the other way once in a while.” Feeling Jack’s gaze upon her, she knew that he knew what she felt, even if he disagreed with her feeling that sense of guilt.

“We’ll take him back to L.A. with us”, Daniel said, nudging his head in the direction of where Michael was still locked up, “probably we’ll leave in about ten hours. Peggy organised private means of transportation.”

“You mean she called Stark.”

“I mean she called Stark”, Sousa confirmed Jack’s guess. “Are you coming with us?”

The two exchanged a quick glance.

“I think we have to get our affairs sorted in New York. I have to talk to McKinley to make him interim Chief”, Jack pulled a face, “and yes, I vetted him as thoroughly as I could, and though he doesn’t have my charm, he’s sure as hell not gonna turn out a Communist or HYDRA agent.”

Daniel and Y/N scoffed simultaneously.

“I described you in a great many ways, Thompson, but charming?”, Daniel grinned.

“If you need backup”, Y/N said, not having to say more than that to clarify her offer. Sousa nodded.

“We will.”

“I’ll organise our fights back to New York”, Y/N said to Jack before marching off to one of the offices to call the airline.

When she had left, Jack turned to Sousa.

“I need Carter to spend a weekend with Y/N, get her out of New York.”

“What?”, Sousa raised an eyebrow, “Are you double-crossing someone again?” It was a clearly a joke, but Jack still rolled his eyes.

“No, you jackass”, he huffed, “but there’s something I need to do, and I can’t have her knowing just yet. Come on, it’s awful keeping a secret from a spy, so I need a spy to help me!”

Daniel had his suspicions where this was headed, so he nodded without further question.

A few hours later, Y/N and Jack got ready to leave Miami behind.

“Tell Peggy I wish her all the best”, Y/N said to Sousa when they got ready to enter the taxi, “I think she’s quite busy with everything that’s happened.”

“I will”, Sousa said with a smile, “Thank you for the help.”

“Don’t mention it”, she said, “You two have saved our asses more than enough, too.”

Just when they were about to climb into the cab, the door flew open again and Peggy stormed out to hug Y/N. “You didn’t think I would not say goodbye to you, did you?”

“I’m sure you’ve got bigger things on your mind then waving at me”, Y/N laughed, “especially since I’m sure we’ll speak on the phone before you know it.”

“You can count on it!”, Peggy looked over to Jack, nodding at him. “Thank you, Jack. I even relinquish the desire to shoot you.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah? Thanks, Marge.”

“See you around, you two”, Peggy said with a smile as they departed. For once, despite the entire Michael-situation wasn’t yet resolved completely, their case was closed. Keller was dead. The Arena Club dismantled.

Jack Thompson’s and Y/N L/N’s tenue at the SSR was coming to a close.

……………

They decided to remain at the SSR for four more weeks to wrap things up, then take a few days off with the vacation days that they had, in theory, accumulated but had been unable to ever use because the world wouldn’t stop ending before starting at the CIA in March of 1948. That meant that they had a few weeks of mostly filing and other desk duties, which came to Y/N’s advantage as it gave her wound time to heal without feeling like she was missing out on anything that would’ve needed her skillset. A definite downside to that was, however, that it provided time to think. And as good as they were when dealing with criminals, from mobster to mad scientist, they were equally terrible at handling domestic issues.

And there was a rather big one that they had to take care of one way or another. Their own wedding.

‘Why the hell are you worrying about this, Thompson? You’ve seen how it goes at Carter and Sousa’s. Just don’t fall flat on your face and you’ll be fine’, Jack thought to himself, though he knew he was only kidding himself. There were a million things that could go wrong. Family was a blessing, but it was also a can of worms. And his friends from university and from his time in the Marine Corps didn’t know each other, so they might hate each other. And there was the miniscule thing around Y/N’s family. Or, more precisely, her father.

Their wedding would take place in February, which meant that it would most likely be cold as hell, but there wasn’t much they could do about it, it was one of the only moments – perhaps of their entire lives – where they could be fairly sure that they had time for such an event.

Y/N was a bit confused by the no-discussion-allowed tone Peggy had when she called her one day to inform her that they’d spend a weekend together back in Boston where Peggy knew a childhood friend who was selling wedding dresses. Y/N wasn’t that thrilled to return to that city again so soon – but after being threatened to have to fly to L.A. to meet with her instead, she agreed.

“You sure you don’t want to come?”, Y/N asked when packing her suitcase, looking over to her fiancé. “We don’t really do things traditionally, so I don’t mind if you see the dress before day X.”

“You’re right”, he pushed himself off the wall with a grin, “we did everything up until this moment in an unorthodox manner. Let’s do this one thing the old-fashion way. I’m sure my ma would be livid if we didn’t.” He gave her a quick kiss, causing Y/N to laugh.

“Your ma would be livid if she knew half the crap we’ve done together”, Y/N informed him, “And I don’t even mean just our work now, I doubt she’d be happy with all the stuff that happened before the war, either.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, we were practically saints at university”, he said with a wink, making her scoff.

“Yeah. I hope Nick bites his tongue if he’s around on our wedding day. Don’t want your parents’ image of their saintly son to be destroyed.”

………

Y/N was greeted by her friend at the airport. “You really didn’t have to fly all across the country just for this silly thing”, Y/N said after giving her a hug, “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t have walked off the altar just because I was wearing a normal dress. With that temper of his, he can’t afford to be picky.”

Peggy laughed at her jab at her fiancé. “You know, Y/N, I have to agree with you on this one! Doesn’t mean you should not do it, still. Maybe I just want to see that airhead speechless once.”

Y/N grinned. “He does have a tendency to want the last word. That, and he doesn’t have the best of filters. Should’ve seen him when we met again after the war. I wasn’t sure if he was about to jump at me to hug me, or slap me, and he just ended up accidentally insulting me.”

“What?”, Peggy looked offended on Y/N’s behalf when she heard that, and Y/N only waved.

“I’m pretty sure he had a rough night before”, she said with a lopsided smile, “and he’s never been good at personal diplomacy. Trust me, you eventually learn to handle and to interpret his insults. Most of them aren’t meant to be taken literally, or even figuratively, they’re just an expression of Thompson-doesn’t-know-what-to-say.”

As they made their way through the city, Y/N sighed. “Didn’t expect to be back here so soon, I have to say. But I guess I can’t hate every city for what happened in it, otherwise, sooner or later, I won’t be able to live in the US entirely.”

“So you’ve gotten over your hatred for L.A.?”, Peggy asked with raised eyebrows.

“No.”

“No?” The brunette laughed.

“No, but for a whole host of reasons. First”, Y/N raised a finger, “I don’t like the climate. Way to hot. I prefer more moderate weather, and New York’s summers are hot enough. Second, I am deeply weirded out by Hollywood. Feels like throwing a glittering blanket over a pile of dirty laundry.” Peggy laughed at her description of most people’s idolised part of America, but Y/N continued. “Third, I have to be a bit considerate towards Jack. And I doubt he can live in the same city as Howard Stark without accidentally murdering him.”

“Yes, some days, I share that sentiment”, Peggy agreed, “By all his brilliance, he is a nuisance, too.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, wondering if asking about Michael was appropriate. She decided, after having taken a bullet in order to save the man, she had the right to inquire. “How is your brother?”

“I think he is getting better. It is really hard, though, for him to – you know – figure out who he is, again. Who he really is, without mind control, without the programme that they had drilled into him”, Peggy replied, her tone calm and relatively collected. “But I know he’ll get through this. Michael taught me what it means to fight to get what no one thought possible. He survived all they’ve done to him – he’ll get back.”

“We’ll have to look into that programming, though”, Y/N muttered, clenching her jaw, “it doesn’t sound from the notebook that they’re thinking about scaling back their experiments. Chances are, we’ve got several other American or British POWs that underwent similar procedures and are being reintroduced into the country to do their bidding.”

“Yes”, Peggy agreed, frowning at the thought. Then, she shook her head. “But not today. Today, you’re going to find the perfect dress!”

…………

The quaint house stood in the middle of a large plot of land, and if Jack had to ever point to the definition of a house with a white picket fence, it would have been this house. It had everything one would draw on such a picture – trees in the garden, well-maintained flowers. A swing.

A swing? He looked at the wooden contraption. Yes, a swing. But Y/N was an only child – at least, she had been when she left for Europe. Oh well. ‘Here goes nothing’. He fought the urge to abort the mission, to just go home and get married to the girl he wanted to marry without pulling this stunt – he knew she wouldn’t have been mad at him for not doing it. But, once again, his stubborn self could not accept that her father was mad at her decision to leave for Europe. Even if it had taken Jack himself a minute to get around on that decision.

He sighed, and went to ring the doorbell.

First, no one answered the door. Looking through the window next to it, he saw that there was light burning in one of the rooms, so he assumed someone was in there. Then, through the window, he saw a kid walking towards him – maybe fifteen. Dark hair and dark eyes, he looked confused when he opened the door.

“Yes? Can I help you?”, the boy asked.

“I’m looking for Mr. L/N”, Jack replied, “is he here?”

“He’s upstairs”, the boy replied, “who’s asking? I can get him.”

“Jack Thompson”, Jack pulled out his SSR ID, “He might remember me from when he lived in New York. I went to school with his daughter.”

“Dad?”, the boy turned around and yelled upstairs, “someone here to see you! A federal agent!”

Jack heard the footsteps of Y/N’s father descending the stairs. When he saw Jack in the doorframe, his face froze.

“You’re the boy Y/N went to school and university with”, he stated.

“Yes”, Jack nodded, shaking the man’s hand, “Jack Thompson. I’ve worked with your daughter at the SSR after the war, too.”

An aura of darkness, perhaps of sorrow or nostalgia coated the man’s face. “Seems like she couldn’t let it go.”

Jack’s eyebrows twitched upwards. “Sir, her work saved countless lives. During her time in Germany, as well as during her time at the SSR. Most men would be happy settling for half of her record.”

Mr. L/N pressed his lips together. “And you came here to bring me the notice of her passing? Is that it? Your sworn duty as her commanding officer?”

“What?”, Jack frowned, “No. Y/N’s alive and well, sir. I came here to ask you to give your daughter the right to choose. She didn’t have to serve. And yet, she did. And when she came back, she didn’t have to work for an intelligence agency. And yet, she did. Hell, I didn’t task her with half the crap she ended up pursuing at the SSR, and in hindsight, I should thank the Lord that she did. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d be dead.”

Mr. L/N looked over his shoulder, at the boy still standing there. “Give us a moment, Rich.” Then, he stepped outside, alone, to face Jack.

“Mr. Thompson, when Y/N decided to head to England, her mother already knew that she was sick. She just didn’t tell Y/N right away. We didn’t want her to go, because we already knew we’d lose someone within the next years. Before she could tell Y/N, she was on her way to England.” He sounded bitter, angry, because that meant that his only child had left him alone.

“Sir, I get that this must’ve hurt, I do”, Jack clenched his jaw, “but we were all asked to make a sacrifice. We were asked to take up arms and run head first into enemy lines if need be. So yes, your family was ruined by war, even though Y/N came back, and for that, I am sorry. But how many families lost multiple children to the war, how many families were torn apart? She tried to do what was right, and she did a fine job.” He paused. “So I ask, is that resentment really worth ruining the chance of salvaging the relationship you could still have to your daughter? Because she left you in order to serve her country?” For once, he managed not to raise his voice to a hostile level, but he nonetheless stared down Mr. L/N.

“Mr. Thompson”, he said slowly, carefully, “Why did you come here?”

Jack huffed. “I came here to tell you that on February 19th, Y/N L/N will become Misses Y/N Thompson. She was convinced that you would not want to be at her wedding. I came here to ask you myself. And you can say no, but I wanted to give you the chance to not lose your daughter. Yes, she went to war, and yes, she came back different. But she came back. And if you let her, you can have her back, too.”

……………

February 19th was the date Jack had suggested. Y/N knew why that date meant something to him. It was the day he went to hell – February 19th, 1945, had been the day he landed on Iwo Jima. That day would always remain a black mark in his calendar, but this way, he took it back. It would no longer be the worst day of his life, it would be the best day of his life, too. Simply put, it would become the most meaningful day, good and bad, in his life.

Y/N had eventually found a dress – its long sleeves made up by a delicate lace, a deep v-neckline that, nonetheless, was modest, albeit a bit a different cut from the standard dresses. The A-line skirt allowed for easy movement, but did not consist of so much fabric that it would turn into a tripping hazard. Looking in the mirror, she saw Peggy smile at her from behind. Y/N herself didn’t manage to smile. She felt like she was staring at someone else entirely.

“You look stunning, Y/N. Absolutely gorgeous!”, Peggy stated and added with a smile, “What exactly Jack Thompson did to deserve you, I shall never know.”

Y/N couldn’t help but to grin at that remark. She knew that Peggy and Jack had started off – and continued for a long while – on the wrong foot.

“He really was a prick after the war, huh”, Y/N huffed, pulling the fabric around her neckline into place.

“The worst part is – at least he had somewhat of an explanation for it”, Peggy lamented, “But how many others are just as bad as he was and aren’t as marked by the years we spent abroad?”

“Peg, I am sorry to inform you, but if you want to live in a world without being degraded by our wonderful male co-workers”, Y/N said, turning to face the brunette with a cynical smile, “Then you were born at least two hundred years too early.”

“Well, someone has to pave the way, and I suppose, for the time being, that’ll have to be the two of us – and in all fairness, we have come a long way within the SSR”, Peggy replied, and Y/N nodded with one eyebrow raised.

“I suppose we have. Though you’ve had it significantly worse than I did. I was never accused of treason, or kicked out, or blackmailed with another person’s file”, Y/N said dryly.

“Indeed, the accusation of treason mostly came from my now-husband, I was kicked out by Chief Dooley, and blackmailed by Chief Thompson”, she recounted, laughing, “I suppose now I’ve gotten a beating from all the Chiefs, so maybe I am good now.”

“You better be, considering you’ll be heading a new organisation soon”, Y/N winked, “unless you go against yourself – you’ve got only Howard Stark to fear, and I think he has better things to do than to go after you. A suggestion from me – he should invest in a better vault. And security system.”

……………

“Mr. Thompson!”, Jack looked over his shoulder as he was walking back to his car when he saw the kid from before running towards him.

“Can I help you, kid?”, he asked, turning around with an eyebrow raised.

“Dad never mentioned that Y/N was still alive”, the boy said, “He also never said that she was dead, now that I think about it. I guess, I just explained it away, given that she was never here.” He held out his hand: “I’m Rich. I’m Y/N’s stepbrother.”

Stepbrother. That made sense. A son from a previous marriage, whose father either had died, or was so absent that he had started to call Mr. L/N dad.

“Pleasure to meet you, Rich.”

“What is she like?”

Jack knew that he meant it as a completely innocent question, but to him, it was loaded with the memories of about fifteen years that he had, in one way or another, spent with Y/N. He didn’t even know where to begin with. How should he explain to this kid what a person Y/N was?

“Y/N”, he eventually said, elongating her name in the search for words, “She’s, uhm, probably the bravest, kindest, and strongest person I’ve ever met. Words don’t do her justice.”

“Dad hardly ever mentioned her – you said that she served… where did she serve? Dad didn’t seem thrilled about it.”

Jack knew that it wasn’t his story to tell – the spying, the entire tale of Y/N’s time in Germany, but he also wanted to convey to this boy that his ‘dad’ was dead-wrong for having been upset at his daughter, so he decided to rub it right in his face. “She fought against the Nazis. She spent the war in Europe. That’s why she left.”

It had the effect he had wanted – Rich’s mouth fell open as he stared at Jack in disbelief. “What? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, well”, Jack gave him a lopsided grin and nodded towards the house behind them, “tell that to your dad, will ya, kid?”

“I will, sir!” Jack almost pulled a face at the kid calling him ‘sir’. Only the pencil pushers in the SSR called him that, and even they only rarely did. Most of them just called him ‘Chief’. The last time he was called ‘sir’ right, left and centre was back in the military.

“See you around, Rich.”

…………

When Y/N returned, she wasn’t surprised when Jack was not at either her or his place – though their time at the SSR was coming to an end, he still didn’t like to let go off the wheel entirely just yet. So she headed to the office, where her search was indeed successful.

Entering the office, she felt the eyes of the men inside it on her.

Raising an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips, she paused. “Is something the matter, gentlemen?”

“We knew about you leaving the SSR together with the Chief, but he only now mentioned that you’ll soon be married”, Goldberg eventually said, causing Y/N to raise her other eyebrow as she laughed.

“Yes, I’m sorry for myself, too.”

“Hey!” She grinned at Jack whose head popped out of the bullpen as he shook his head: “Unbelievable.”

“Congratulations, Y/N. Can’t say I saw that coming when you had your first day here, I thought you’d be more likely his murderer than his wife, but I stand corrected.”

Y/N laughed at Goldberg’s not entirely wrong analysis of hers and Jack’s first meeting post-war.

“What can I say”, she said, “we’ve never done things traditionally. That applies professionally as well as privately, it would seem.”

“I swear, if you now start telling them about our yesteryears, I’ll fire you on the spot”, Jack warned jokingly, “I want to upkeep my reputation for my next job.”

Y/N huffed: “I have no idea what you’re getting at, Jack. Your drinking escapades aside, and your unbelievable ability to make enemies, you were a straight-A student all your life.” And both of these aspects of his personality weren’t all that well-hidden, though, perhaps, his subordinates merely got to see the surface of both.

In fact, that was perhaps one of Jack Thompson’s most proficient traits. He had the capability to adapt to his environment, mould himself into whatever people expected from a person in his situation, put his own personality on the backburner in order to climb the ladder. He had always wanted to be the best – the best at maths, the best at sports, the best at anything he ever did, and he’d do anything to succeed. That didn’t necessarily mean to push others out the way, it certainly meant he fought hard to be better than the next guy, but as harsh as he was to others, he was at least ten times harsher with himself. He was able to build up a wall to reinforce himself to be ready to take on a world that had been incredibly hostile in their lifetime. They had experienced an economic crash and an economic recovery, they had experienced the worst war the world had ever seen. Not only that, but they had fought in it. And then they had come back to a country where they felt like strangers, only to realise that they had to second-guess every person around them. His wall of anger and of sarcasm and rudeness, it was also a wall of hard work, of doubt and of a deep conviction to want to serve this country. It was the wall that only very few got to ever climb, and Y/N was perhaps the one person who knew every brick in the wall.

To understand Jack Thompson was to understand the environment he operated in. That’s how it’s always been – he had been a different person when they were surrounded by other students as he was when he was with his family. He was different when being the SSR Chief, or her fiancé. Essentially, he grew up in a society that valued first and foremost the outcome, rather than the means. And the outcome society valued most was success. That might come across as greedy or selfish, but Y/N knew – at heart, he still did it all with good intentions. He wouldn’t ever back out of a fight in fear over his own life. He was willing to die for his job. And he didn’t trust many others to do a better job than he did himself. Again, this might sound selfish and arrogant to many, but Y/N had seen ‘the others’. Men like Vernon Masters, Calvin Chadwick and so on. They were just as ambitious, but they were cowards. They were willing to sacrifice others for their own success. He was willing to sacrifice himself.

And that, Y/N thought to herself, is why I’m going to marry him – to keep that part of him controlled. Because as much as she admired him for his willingness to give his all for cause and country – she really didn’t want him to become a martyr. She didn’t need for him to become the next Captain America. She was fine with him just being a good man, a man with a long list of flaws and a record of mistakes.

She could not ever imagine being with someone as literally flawless as Steve Rogers – then, she would feel like an absolute imposter. She had just as long a list of flaws and mistakes.

That’s why it worked. They needed each other – and in a sense, they always had.

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[xxruinaxxmcu]

A huge, huuuuuge thank you @clinicallydepressedreader for - you know - taking the time to tell me that you enjoy my fic, through a comment and your tags. I cannot tell you how much that means and how much it brightens my day! It was clear to me from the start that it‘ll be a fic for a small group, but it’s people like you I enjoy writing for, not numbers🤗

Jack Thompson X Reader

What Lies Before Us, Chapter 18

Previous Chapters

A/N: Apologies for the long pause. I actually had this chapter in reserve but never got around to publishing it. What made me publish it today was A) time and B) the lovely, lovely words by @clinicallydepressedreader under one of the previous chapters. Thanks, my dear! It’s people like you that make this more than worth it. I am so honoured to have had that impact on your perception on Jack - truly, it means the world! The characters are actually the most difficult part for me to get right (in terms of the canon timelines and their stories) because the historical background, well… my full-time job is researching the 1930s/1940s in Germany. That certainly helped!

“Clear.”

The room hadn’t been made by room service, who had adhered to the sign outside the door asking for privacy.

“Those are the plans Elias had handed over to them”, Y/N pointed to the desk, recognising the blueprints from Peggy’s descriptions.

“Wasn’t one for much private stuff”, Jack commented. They found no pictures, only the absolute necessities. Crouching down next to the bed, Jack saw something buried below the mattress.

“Wannabe spy”, he commented sarcastically, pulling out a notebook.

Projekt Kriegerblut

HYDRA, Abteilung Forschung für Neurologie und Psychoanalytik

BETA-Proband M.C.

Start Behandlung: September 1940

Y/N had noticed him reading something. “You found something?”

“Hard to say, what does ‘Kriegerblut’ mean?”

“Warrior’s blood”, Y/N frowned, “Why?” He handed her the notebook.

“I think that could link to your friend there.”

Y/N’s eyes scanned the pages. “If that refers to Carter, then lord help us, given that he’s only the beta candidate. Means that somewhere out there, they have a more finalised candidate. One that does, whatever the intent is, better than our man”, she stated, flipping through the pages. Most were notes by doctors about the change in brain scans after repeated torture and electroshock ‘therapy’.

“What does it say?”, Jack asked impatiently.

“Shhh”, she hushed, “I gotta first read it!”

Loading all the evidence into their car, Y/N continued her lecture whilst Jack started driving to Sousa’s location.

“Unbelievable”, Y/N eventually whispered, “that is actually unbelievable.”

“What is it?”, Jack’s eyes met hers for a split-second, so he saw her deep concern.

“If whatever they are describing here is factual”, she began, “then they are attempting to manipulate individuals, basically rewiring their brains to become assassins devoid of will.”

“Absolute mind control?”, he asked in disbelief, “that’s impossible. That’s gotta be impossible.” Taking over someone temporarily by creating a momentary delusion as had been the case in Fennhoff’s technique was one thing, rewiring someone’s brain fundamentally an entirely different.

Y/N raised an eyebrow: “I hope so, too, but then again, I guess people in the French Revolution would’ve said the same thing about the atomic bomb falling out of freaking planes.”

Keep reading

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson X Reader

What Lies Before Us, Chapter 18

Previous Chapters

A/N: Apologies for the long pause. I actually had this chapter in reserve but never got around to publishing it. What made me publish it today was A) time and B) the lovely, lovely words by @clinicallydepressedreader under one of the previous chapters. Thanks, my dear! It’s people like you that make this more than worth it. I am so honoured to have had that impact on your perception on Jack - truly, it means the world! The characters are actually the most difficult part for me to get right (in terms of the canon timelines and their stories) because the historical background, well... my full-time job is researching the 1930s/1940s in Germany. That certainly helped!

“Clear.”

The room hadn’t been made by room service, who had adhered to the sign outside the door asking for privacy.

“Those are the plans Elias had handed over to them”, Y/N pointed to the desk, recognising the blueprints from Peggy’s descriptions.

“Wasn’t one for much private stuff”, Jack commented. They found no pictures, only the absolute necessities. Crouching down next to the bed, Jack saw something buried below the mattress.

“Wannabe spy”, he commented sarcastically, pulling out a notebook.

Projekt Kriegerblut

HYDRA, Abteilung Forschung für Neurologie und Psychoanalytik

BETA-Proband M.C.

Start Behandlung: September 1940

Y/N had noticed him reading something. “You found something?”

“Hard to say, what does ‘Kriegerblut’ mean?”

“Warrior’s blood”, Y/N frowned, “Why?” He handed her the notebook.

“I think that could link to your friend there.”

Y/N’s eyes scanned the pages. “If that refers to Carter, then lord help us, given that he’s only the beta candidate. Means that somewhere out there, they have a more finalised candidate. One that does, whatever the intent is, better than our man”, she stated, flipping through the pages. Most were notes by doctors about the change in brain scans after repeated torture and electroshock ‘therapy’.

“What does it say?”, Jack asked impatiently.

“Shhh”, she hushed, “I gotta first read it!”

Loading all the evidence into their car, Y/N continued her lecture whilst Jack started driving to Sousa’s location.

“Unbelievable”, Y/N eventually whispered, “that is actually unbelievable.”

“What is it?”, Jack’s eyes met hers for a split-second, so he saw her deep concern.

“If whatever they are describing here is factual”, she began, “then they are attempting to manipulate individuals, basically rewiring their brains to become assassins devoid of will.”

“Absolute mind control?”, he asked in disbelief, “that’s impossible. That’s gotta be impossible.” Taking over someone temporarily by creating a momentary delusion as had been the case in Fennhoff’s technique was one thing, rewiring someone’s brain fundamentally an entirely different.

Y/N raised an eyebrow: “I hope so, too, but then again, I guess people in the French Revolution would’ve said the same thing about the atomic bomb falling out of freaking planes.”

“So, what, he doesn’t know who he is? So we’re talking to an empty shell now, lacking the chip on the shoulder with the puppet master dead?”, Jack inquired, still not entirely convinced that whatever they had found could actually be reality.

“Do I look like I have experience with Nazi mind control?”, Y/N asked back with a huff, “All I can say is what they reported here. The candidate was captured in summer of 1940, and is described as a ‘European individual in his mid-20s of healthy status’. Age and time of capture would coincide with Michael’s presumed death, and well, there’s the matching initials. Apparently, he was candidate 19, and the only one not to die in the process. He was tortured for months, Jack.”

“Sorry if my sympathy is not overflowing just yet. The guy tried to kill you not even five hours ago, Y/N!”

“Yes, with an emphasis on tried”, Y/N agreed, “but we’re all alive, the kid’s fine, and I only have a bandage and a nasty gash to remind me. Had a scar there anyways, so never mind.” She exhaled. “What’s my concern now is that we need someone… someone we can trust who has experience with this sorta thing. I know absolutely no one that fits the bill. You?”

“Neither.”

“Then let’s hope the old trick of hitting him hard enough on the head works”, Y/N commented dryly, “I’m not betting on getting help from the one mind-control expert we’ve come across in the last two years in the form of Fennhoff.”

Once more, silence returned to their car. Y/N knew he was upset, it was written all across his face.

“Are you angry that I didn’t shoot him, are you pissed I didn’t let him shoot the kid, or are you angry that we’re headed to see a possible mad man right now?”, she asked, tilting her head, “or is it all of the above?”

“I’m not angry.”

“Yes”, Y/N snorted, “you are in a glorious mood.”

“No, I’m not”, he agreed, “but I’m not angry. I’m just waiting for this campaign to be over. It feels like since Stark’s disappearance last year, we’ve been chasing boogiemen across the globe and every time we think we’re done, it just continues.”

“I know”, Y/N said quietly, “I’m tired, too.” She swallowed: “But we can’t just ditch now, can we? I mean, you saw Peggy’s face in there. We can’t just leave her and Sousa with someone – or something – of which we have no idea what he’s capable of.”

“Yeah”, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I know.” Clenching his jaw, he accepted his fate, and his mind returned to duty. “How’d you think we interrogate him? If that file is correct, I doubt he’ll react much to the stick.”

Y/N nodded. “Probably he won’t, yeah”, pressing her lips together, “again, I have no knowledge of how to de-programme someone like that. I suppose reconnecting with his past, with his identity would be an avenue. To turn him from Candidate 19 back to Michael Carter.”

“But only Peggy knew him back then”, he interjected, “she can’t interrogate him! That’s bound to fail.”

“Why, because it’s her brother?”, Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Jack looked at her as if asking that question was a crime all by itself. “Yes”, he hissed, “because he’s her brother!”

“You know”, Y/N said with a grin, “Now I know why she always butted heads with you. You and him? You could be related. And from what she told me about him, I think even some of the character traits line up.”

He looked offended: “That’s harsh.”

“You met a monster”, she objected, “I doubt he was like that when they were playing knights in the garden.”

Now, he laughed. “Doesn’t surprise me one bit. Couldn’t imagine Marge being a princess.”

…………

“Rose?”, Y/N asked when they approached the cellar in which Sousa had handcuffed Carter to an interrogation table, “how’s everyone?”

Rose gave her a telling look: “Everyone is just in shock.”

“Is Sousa with him?”, Jack asked and Rose nodded, pointing to the room where they could sit in to the interrogation from behind the one-way mirror.

“Peggy in there?”, Y/N asked, and Rose nodded again.

“Gimme a second”, Y/N said to Jack and left to enter the room. “Peggy?”

The woman sat on the desk, legs crossed. She didn’t look sad, or like she had cried. She looked completely blank as her eyes flickered over to Y/N.

“How’s your arm?”

“Fine.”

Y/N sat next to her, looking into the interrogation room.

“What have I missed?”, she asked silently.

“Nothing”, Peggy said bitterly, “he’s said absolutely nothing.”

“I would have guessed so”, Y/N said, deciding to be upfront, “Jack discovered a notebook in Keller’s room. We weren’t sure if it was referring to him, but the evidence all points in that direction. If we are correct, then HYDRA reprogrammed his brain. A sort of mind control. They detailed how they got him to that point, but unfortunately, nothing of how to reverse it.”

“Mind control?”, Peggy asked, forcing herself to look away from Michael, now facing Y/N. Y/N could practically see her trying to pull herself together.

“Yeah, but different than what Fennhoff did with people like Chief Dooley. It’s much more… fundamental”, Y/N tried to explain, “I read it just now on our way here. It was pain-based. Peggy, the details don’t matter that much, but they’ve tortured him for months. It took months for them to drill him into a tool. He became Kandidat 19 – Keller addressed him in that way, too. It would seem that by the time they were done with him, he’d fall into bouts of servitude.” She paused. “But he isn’t perfect. He was referred to as the BETA candidate. In some of the notes, they described how he’d fall out of his trance mid-mission or not act out the actions they wanted him to do in as miniscule detail as they would have liked. I think they decided to make several changes for their next generation of candidates, something with trigger words. I don’t know what they would’ve changed, but they didn’t do that with Michael.”

Peggy remained silent for a while. The door opened and Jack entered, nodding at Peggy.

“Do you think I can get through to him, Y/N?”, Peggy asked. Y/N felt helpless – She had nothing to base this upon. She was forced to answer a question she couldn’t have known the answer to.

“I believe we will not leave any stone unturned”, Y/N spoke eventually. “Dooley got out of his trance somehow. There must be a way to break this, too, even if it takes more than Jack banging against a door.”

“You think it’s some sort of drill, right?”, Jack asked Y/N, to which she only nodded. “Then it’s most likely connected to self-discipline, right? I dunno, maybe some sort of learnt behaviour that was reinforced by HYDRA, disobedience means torture, so self-discipline is a self-protection.”

Y/N remained quiet because she wanted to know where he was headed with this.

“Well, if it is, then we need to break down his ability to self-discipline.” He said it so matter-of-fact that Y/N had to glance to Peggy, only to see that the brunette also didn’t seem to know what Jack was getting at.

“And how do you suspect we do that, Doctor?”, Y/N asked, crossing her arms.

Jack looked at her with a deadpan look: “It’s my suggestion. It’s gonna involve alcohol. Isn’t that your rationale for hardly touching that stuff?”

“You wanna get him drunk?”, Y/N said, not knowing if he was kidding.

“You got a better idea? It’s probably less harmful than some of the harder drugs out there”, he shrugged.

Y/N turned to Peggy: “Thoughts?”

“He finds gin repulsive”, she said sarcastically, “you better get whiskey.”

“See?”, Y/N said with a grin looking at Thompson, “I knew you two share similarities!” He shot her a venomous glare.

“You don’t happen to have a bottle in the trunk, do you?”, she asked sarcastically, causing him to open his mouth in offence.

“D’you think I’m an alcoholic over here?”

“Nah, I told you before, it’s gotten much better”, she shrugged with a smile, “but I was just checking. I’ll get us the goods.”

…………

When they informed Daniel about the plan, he looked at Thompson and L/N as if they were from outer space.

“That’s your plan?”, he asked, just to be sure he didn’t miss a part, “You’ll get him drunk?”

“Yes”, Thompson confirmed.

“My bad”, Sousa’s tone was mocking, “Here I thought we were the Strategic Scientific Reserve, not the college fraternity admitting another member into our ranks of crazy.”

“If you happened to have gathered some intel about German mind control techniques in the trenches of Bastogne, by all means, dogface”, Thompson huffed, “Speak up.”

Sousa rolled his eyes at the insult. “You know, if there’s one thing the likes of you have in common – it’s that they will go above and beyond to remind the rest of the servicemen that they’re Marines.”

Jack slapped him on the shoulder: “Naturally. We did the legwork for it. Don’t worry, we made even more fun of the swab-jockeys than your kind.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “I guess that referred to the poor sailors that had to work beside you.”

“How’d you guess?”, Jack asked, knowing that she’d probably not have had contact with many members from the Navy during her time in the European theatre.

“Believe it or not, but the distain you had on your face when you spoke to Luke who has been in the Navy was a clear indicator that you don’t hold them in the highest of regards”, she replied, “might have just been Luke, though, and just a lucky guess this time around.”

He winked: “To us, the US Navy was the Marine’s taxi service.”

“Oh my God, way to boast about your choice of branch”, she rolled her eyes amusedly, “C’mon, warrior of God, we’re off to meet Rose and the kid. They left for another safehouse an hour ago.”

“What, we’re not leaving Carter with Sousa and Carter!”, he objected, “besides, last time I checked, I’m the most senior interrogator.”

“Yeah”, she raised an eyebrow at him, “and I’ve seen my share of drunk people for this month. What’s your point?” That remark gave her the reaction she had intended for it to generate – slight embarrassment – as she added: “Besides, he’s cuffed to a table, and we tied down his feet. We’ll put the bunker on lockdown and you’ll need a password to unlock it, so he can’t get out.” She grabbed him by the arm: “Now get going or I swear I will always and forever refer to as a soldier.”

………

“We’re not leaving just to check on the other two, are we?”, Jack asked in the car.

Y/N took notice that he had correctly deducted that from her previous behaviour.

“I think that we shouldn’t be listening in on whatever Peggy has to say to possibly get through to him”, she confirmed quietly, “Peggy’s usually very quiet when it’s about her private life, particularly the one she had before the war.”

“She told you about Michael”, he pointed out, “you’re sure it’s about us listening in, and not just about me listening in?” He shot her a side-glance before returning to the road.

Y/N studied his face. He didn’t seem hurt by the implication, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t.

“No”, she disagreed, “I knew very little about her life, despite having lived with her. I knew that she had a brother and she showed me a few pictures, and she told me that she didn’t have a particularly cordial relationship to her mother. Found her too boyish. I guess the problematic family relations were a point for us to bond over.” She sighed: “I’m sure she would’ve told you if… well. It’s always harder to say these things to people who come from a family that’s intact. It makes you mourn your losses all over again.” Once she had uttered the words, she realised how utterly sad they had sounded, which was reflected on Jack’s concerned face.

“I don’t feel that way when I’m with your family”, she added quickly, “I have known them for what seems like my entire life.”

He cleared his throat, taking his hand off the clutch for a moment to grab her left hand and grazing the ring on her finger: “They’ll be your family, too.”

……….

Entering the other safehouse, which was an unused office building formerly used by the SSR, Elias and Rose were chatting in one of the rooms, evidently about how American and German pies were nothing alike.

Y/N shot Jack a glance. He raised an eyebrow and remarked: “Didn’t take the kid to be a baker.”

“Neither.”

Hearing their voices, Rose and Elias watched them enter.

“Agent L/N, how is your arm?”

“Don’t worry”, she waved her hand, “Unlike the SSR men, I used my arm to take it, not my sternum.”

“And you accuse me of bragging”, Jack complained with a grin that he couldn’t quite wipe off his face.

“Oh please”, Y/N rolled her eyes, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t get one of those dodgy tattoos during service. Well, I suppose you make up for it verbally.”

She could see the thoughts spinning in Elias’ face, when she realised that to him, they were Chief Thompson of the NY SSR, and Agent L/N from the NY SSR. Peggy and Daniel had probably seen no need to mention the fact that there was a private dimension to their relationship, hence, her remarks must have come across as incredibly rude for a simple subordinate.

“Don’t worry”, she said in German with a grin, “he’s my fiancé. I’m the one person in this agency that’s allowed to be honest with him.”

“What?”, Jack asked when Elias started laughing.

“Nothing”, Y/N said in a sing-song-voice, “Asked him if he enjoyed his experience in the field today.”

Jack didn’t believe a word of what she was saying and eyed her suspiciously. “Sure.”

“Chief Sousa called a moment ago, something about a report”, Rose spoke up, “He said you two will know what to do.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice term for filing duty”, Y/N remarked dryly, “About the mission.”

She looked around, searching for a desk. “How about this, I’ll do the filing, you”, she turned to Jack, “find us something to eat. I’m starving.”

“You volunteer to do the filing?”, he asked, acting shocked.

“I can be nice from time to time”, she grinned, “Deal?”

“You bet!”

…………

“So you two are headed back to New York soon?”, Elias asked over dinner, which were burgers, because, as Jack had explained, that was the most convenient to get into the car.

Y/N looked over to Jack. “Yes, at least for a while.”

“We’re leaving the SSR”, Jack shared, causing Rose to almost drop her food.

“WHAT?”, she exclaimed, “Who’s going to take care of the east, then?!”

Y/N chuckled at her panic. “Don’t worry, Rose. The SSR will be in the best of hands. Perhaps the most capable hands it could ever want. Isn’t that right, Thompson?”

He rolled his eyes at the teasing tone in her voice. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Carter’s going to be in charge”, Y/N said to explain, “she, Colonel Philips and Howard Stark will restructure the SSR.”

Rose pursed her lips, before smiling brightly: “That sounds exciting!”

“Yes, for your sake, I hope Stark’s not too involved”, Jack scoffed, “otherwise, the new offices might explode. Or implode. It’s concerning both happened before.”

“Oh, come on”, Y/N shook her head, “He was involved in almost all the biggest scientific developments of the last decades. And those functioned as intended. At least most of them.”

“I am also very confident that his rocket programme will turn out to be a success”, Elias said with a small smile, “who knows, Stark tech might just be the first man-made thing to land on the moon.”

“The moon?”, Jack asked, not convinced. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

“Yes, he intends to send a manned rocket to the moon”, Elias nodded, “that’s why he hired me, amongst others.”

“Great”, Thompson scoffed, “make it a one-way ticket and I’ll support it.”

Y/N laughed: “I said to Peggy that you’d say that.”

“If you’re leaving the SSR, what’s next for Chief Thompson and Agent L/N?”, Rose asked curiously.

“The CIA is looking for people with experience to build up their rows”, Jack said, “they were quick to offer us a position.”

“With the new division of responsibility amongst the intelligence services, the SSR won’t be able to act with the level of freedom it was able to in the war and up until September”, Y/N added, “and things in Europe and Asia only seem to become more volatile again. Might be of use to work for the agency that’ll be able to work on the ground.”

She saw Elias’ concerned face. “Do you still have family there?”

“In Germany?”, he shrugged, “I have no idea. Parts of them lived in East Prussia. I haven’t heard from them since late 1944 – so I assume, no. I don’t anymore.”

Y/N’s face fell at the mention of that, again conflicted by the fact that enemies were human, too. She had taught herself to see them primarily as targets, as inherently different to her, to her friends, and therefore, killing them became easier. Was sympathy with a people that had committed atrocities too horrible to even comprehend even possible? Was it morally wrong? It felt nearly impossible to her to reconcile these seemingly juxtaposed positions.

“Y/N, did you come across HYDRA when working in Germany?”, Rose asked to change the topic.

The woman shook her head: “No, fortunately not. I was preoccupied with more – well – normal Nazis, though that is an oxymoron in my opinion.”

“I remind you that you didn’t get to experience the joy of searching for snakes in your foxhole”, Jack interjected, and Y/N knew he did only to redirect the conversation away from her service, for which she was grateful. She had no interest in sharing war stories with the brother of the guy she killed.

“You did not serve in Europe?”, Elias asked, seemingly confused.

“Nah”, Jack pulled a face, “someone had to fight the good fight in the Pacific, too.”

Once they had finished their meal, Jack began to organise for Rose and Elias to get onto the next plane back to L.A., which resulted in them heading to the airport just a short while later. Y/N accompanied the two of them outside to the taxi, followed by Thompson. She hugged Rose goodbye before turning to the scientist.

“Thank you, Elias”, she said, shaking his hand. “You’re a good kid.”

“Madame, I love my brother. Perhaps, I loved him more than any other person in the world. But if one thing was taught to us since our earliest youth, it is that war is brutal. It was the brutality we were taught to idolise. I suppose that means accepting the reality that others will wage war upon us, too.”

She watched him enter the car, wondering where his path would lead him to. She sincerely hoped that, wherever it would, the destination would be more peaceful than his youth had been.

“That’s why you wanted to be the one to escort him”, Jack stated quietly, standing next to her. “To amend.”

“I cannot amend it”, she said, watching the car leave. “But it would seem that he has given me all I can ask for. Acceptance.”

Jack followed her gaze. If that kid was able to accept her decisions, accept her actions – then for God’s sake, why would her father not be capable of doing the same? He would marry Y/N. And despite their relationship being distant, he at least wanted them to not hate each other.

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Jack Thompson X Reader

What Lies Before Us

Masterlist (previous book, previous chapter)

A/N: Tagged people, could you please let me know IF you were tagged??

Chapter 17

When Y/N woke up the next morning, Jack had already gone.

Was she surprised? No. Was she amused? Also, no.

She was at the SSR office by 9, a perfectly reasonable time to start the day. Unless your name was Jack, that is. The first agent who she encountered was Agent Goldberg.

“Morning, Agent Goldberg”, she said, giving him a nod, “anything happened yesterday?”

“We got sent some testimonies from the SSR office in Chicago for the men they apprehended”, Goldberg informed her, “I gave the files to the Chief an hour ago.”

“I see”, she said, raising an eyebrow. Testimonies were good, of course, but they weren’t necessarily time-sensitive. So, it turned out, it really didn’t mean Armageddon to leave for one night.

“Late night?”

She shot Goldberg an offended look: “Agent Goldberg, if you want to tell me I look tired today, just say it straight to my face!”

“What?”, he first looked confused, but when he understood what she meant he had wanted to say, he looked rather embarrassed: “No, I didn’t mean it like that!”

Now, Y/N looked confused: “What?”

“You look – you look how you always look”, Goldberg replied a bit awkwardly.

“You mean Thompson?”, she raised an eyebrow and huffed, “honestly, I don’t even try anymore. By this point, he runs on caffeine. Which reminds me – I guess I shouldn’t be late for my first coffee round of the day.”

After serving all the regular argents roaming around in the main hall, she made her way to the bullpen. The blinds were drawn, which normally indicated the chief wanted privacy, but she argued that A) that didn’t apply to his fiancée and B) didn’t apply to his coffee delivery, and given she combined both, that was grounds to ignore it.

“Morning, Chief”, she said when pushing the door open, seeing Thompson hover the files that, she assumed, Goldberg had given to him previously.

He huffed in acknowledgement, staring intently on the documents before him.

“Someone’s in a peachy mood”, she commented as she began filling up his coffee cup. “What, you lost the ability to say thank you?”

He looked over to the cup she had placed before him. “Thanks.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did I hit you in your sleep or what’s bitten you?”

“It’s nothing.” Four words in total – that was very few for a person usually never shy of a dry sarcastic comment. Hell, he didn’t even tell her that she should knock before entering. She was just about to point that out to him when his nose started twitching, he fumbled out a handkerchief from his coat and sneezed into it. Y/N didn’t need to see his face to know that this was just the odd sneeze anyone can have now and then, the handkerchief looked used. But yes, his red nose would have made the gathering of such obscure clues obsolete.

“Bless you.” Her voice was tauntingly even, because she knew he knew what she was thinking. I told you so.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know, if you had been able to speak when you were shot, I’m pretty sure you would’ve said that, too”, Y/N commented dryly.

He rolled his eyes at her, which – in hindsight – was a mistake, because that meant direct eye contact with someone who was not having his crap today. He had the misfortune of getting rather light-sensitive eyes when having a cold, which caused them to be watery. “You don’t seriously compare the sniffles to a gunshot wound.”

“No, that would be unfair to the gunshot wound, as the fact that opening the door to a stranger is less directly linked in getting shot than running on three hours of sleep for several weeks is to a shit immune system”, she shrugged.

“You done with your lecture?”, he huffed, returning to short phrases because he could hear his voice getting hoarse.

“Depends”, she replied, “are you done being stupid?”

“It’s a cold”, he muttered, “And we have work to do.”

“Yes”, she agreed, “that, we do. I can read through their testimonies, though. I’ll write the report, hand that to you and do the filing. My filing’s better than yours anyways.”

He was about to open his mouth to reply, which was cut short by another sneeze.

Y/N decided that she’d switch gears, from convincing him with pure sarcasm with an appeal to reason. “Come on Jack, this is pointless! I can take care of this. And if something should occur that’s urgent, I’ll call you back in.”

He was not going home because of a cold – it was a cold, not the freaking black death!

“I’m about to actually get mad”, Y/N announced with a sigh, “I didn’t say anything the last weeks because I know you, and you wouldn’t have listened, because that’s just nothing you do, right? But so help me God, just to the reasonable thing now. You have a team of more-or-less capable agents out there, and I will read the testimonies. I’ll clock out at five and tell you about them.” She picked up the file, lowered herself down to his desk, putting her apartment key on the table and staring him down: “End of discussion.”

He was about to reply that they didn’t have a discussion in the first place, but then she had already left his office. He contemplated ignoring her, after all, he was the Chief, but then, he really didn’t want to actually make her angry. So there he sat, debating his options, only realising after a solid minute that he had been robbed of the task of reading the testimonies. Hence, he was just sitting in his office doing nothing. After the next bout of sneezing had subsided, he surrendered – whether to his own stubbornness or Y/N’s order, he didn’t know. Probably both.

……………..

“Did you see the Chief?”, Agent Ramirez asked Agent Goldberg, who only shrugged.

“I saw him today morning, but not ever since. Ask L/N, she talked to him after me.”

Y/N had heard their interaction from afar, and looked at Ramirez: “He had personal business to attend to. Why?”

“I had his report ready”, Ramirez shrugged, “I’ll just put it in his office, then. Will he be back, later?”

“I don’t know”, Y/N lied, “didn’t say.”

She knew Jack well enough to know that it was hard enough for him to know he was sick, but he really didn’t want others to know, too. So she decided in his stead to sell a load of bull to Ramirez. The day was quiet, and Y/N had enough time to go through the testimonies thoroughly. Many of them told similar stories – especially those members that had been in the Arena Club for some while. That it had started as a conglomerate of influential men who wanted to tilt the odds in their favours, but during the war, and in the years after, some parts of the Club started to grow more interested in weaponry and the prospect of translating political and financial power into force. Most of them didn’t mention HYDRA, and most of them had no idea what the Council of Nine was, what they had been up to with Zero Matter, or what the newest interests of the more radical faction of the Clubs were. It seemed to be structured like a crime family, if Y/N was honest. The lower members had no idea what the higher-ups were deciding, even if they still participated in the execution of the crimes. They also seemed to have no idea who Mr. Keller was.

When the clock hit 17:00, Y/N gathered up her things, the reports from the agents that they had left on Thompson’s desk and said goodbye to the men from the nightshift. Then, she made her way to her place, as she assumed, given Jack had taken the keys she had placed on his desk before walking out on him, she’d find him there.

With a spare key, she opened the door and was greeted by silence. Given his briefcase was on the floor, she still knew that she had guessed right.

Walking towards the kitchen, past her living room, she huffed. ‘What an idiot.’ He could’ve taken the bed. It wasn’t like she was there to be annoyed at it, anyways. But at least he did fall asleep – although the boredom of not having any work to do might have helped. She decided to let him sleep whilst entering the kitchen. She had learnt to cook at an early age, and if she had time to do it, she found it a rather relaxing pastime. Though lately, that rarely happened, so it was a welcome change.

“Y/N?”, she eventually heard from the living room.

“I doubt a burglar would just hop in the kitchen to prepare dinner.”

She didn’t even need to be in the same room as him to feel him rolling his eyes.

She brought him his dinner, which was a chicken soup. When looking at it, he raised his eyebrows: “Is that ma’s recipe?”

“She gave it to me years ago”, Y/N confirmed with a smile, “must’ve been around 1938 or so.”

She decided to give him the rundown of the day’s events at the office while he ate, from the testimonies and the reports from the other agents. “All in all, things were quiet though. Also, I don’t think anyone knew what happened to you. Maybe Goldberg has some suspicion, but when Ramirez asked about you, I said you had personal business to attend to.”

He snorted, which didn’t really work that well with a stuffy nose, so he resorted to blowing it right after. “You still use that line?”

“It worked in high school, it worked at university”, she shrugged with a grin, “and somehow, our agents aren’t that much brighter than the guys we studied with. So why fix what ain’t broke?”

“Those things seem like lightyears away.”

Y/N pulled a face: “Do they, though? I mean, of course a ton has changed. The world has changed. We went to war, and we didn’t come back the way we left. Back then, we fought over who got the better marks. But when it comes down to it? We’re still the idiots from New York. We just save the country for a living, now.”

“You make us sound way cooler than we are”, he grinned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“What, you saved the city from poisonous gas. You rid the world of highly volatile space goo. We took down a Soviet master assassin. And now we’re taking down a club of power-hungry social animals with connections to HYDRA – don’t know what your standards of cool are, but I’d say we rank in the top ten percent, at least”, she tilted her head, “Especially given we don’t have the advantage of being near immortal like Steve Rogers was. We’re just some random people that ended up being trained in war and unable to let go when coming back.”

“When d’you realise you’d not come back the same?”, he asked earnestly, despite everything, very observant to her facial expression.

“I don’t know”, she said truthfully, “at some point, I just knew. Thought of home, of my friends that worked at the home front. I don’t want to diminish their work, they made ours possible. But I also knew that they couldn’t relate to our experience. They felt robbed of their youth – wanted to experience that joy again. I suppose I realised that even when I would wake up in peace again, I still would never be able to forget about what peril looks like. I wouldn’t be able to revert back to the silliness of a life that has been untouched by combat. By seeing death day in, day out. And not just to see the dead, but to see… see death. The men torn apart by bullets and shrapnel, to hear the cries of the dying. I suppose that is an experience no one can relate who hasn’t been there, even those who had lost sons and brothers across the world.”

“How did you end up as a spy, anyways? I get how Carter ended up with the SSR and Project Rebirth, but how did you end up in Germany?”

Y/N leaned back: “That’s a long story. And probably not one to fall asleep to.”

“I’ve slept the entire afternoon”, he groaned, “I can spare one hour.”

Y/N gave him a long look, but quickly realised that just how uncompromising she had been in the morning, he was now.

“Right”, she sighed, “1942, spring, I was being taught by the SOE for codebreaking, learning German for that. I picked up the language quite quickly, probably helped studying it a little at university. During that time, they were debating sending in English agents to support the French spying missions on the ground, especially since they couldn’t support the allies on European territory with soldiers. They recruited from their own ranks, but they weren’t that successful.” She laughed dryly: “Maybe didn’t help that we knew just how high the fatality rate was for the French.”

“They asked you? Even though you were American?”

Y/N shook her head: “No. I started pressing my superior to recommend me. I guess I managed to annoy him enough to want to get rid of me. He did eventually, so I was offered the position. I was trained in hand-to-hand combat, weapon’s training, and in June 1942, I was in Germany. We managed to get behind enemy lines by parachuting into the countryside. I knew where my first target was stationed, I knew how he looked, I just had to establish contact. So I started working in a bar that was in the area, and guessed he’d show. Given all the talk about not giving into one’s urges, some of the ‘elite’ sure indulged a lot in everything from alcohol to other pleasures. That’s why the SOE didn’t only want male spies. After all, all our targets were men, too.”

Jack was visibly uncomfortable by what she was insinuating, and she knew his mother would be, too.

“Don’t worry”, she said silently, “In most cases, I was able to kill them much before that. But the fact is, there is almost no better place to kill someone than if you’re alone in a room with them and they fully trust you.” She remained silent for a while, then added: “The key was to keep moving. Keep a low profile. We knew we weren’t allowed to be captured. They would’ve tortured us specifically for the codes to break the English communications. That’s why the SOE had given us the means to a quick death, and we always had to carry it on us.”

“You carried cyanide?”

Y/N nodded with a flat smile: “Yeah. I didn’t fancy to end up in Ravensbrück, either.”

He nodded quietly. “We lost a few men to captivity. Not Marines, they were from the Army Air Force, near Iwo Jima. They weren’t put into a POW camp. They were eaten.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What??”

“Just months before we landed. Didn’t really help the mood. They tried to keep it quiet, but people talk. And one guy survived, 19 years old, I think. Bush, or something.”

Y/N had to gag at the thought of that experience. War was inhumane by definition. And the Second World War more so than, perhaps, any other conflict before. Human experiments, genocide, mass executions, the collateral damage. But there as something distinctly immoral about cannibalism – not necessarily ‘worse’ than any other murder, but she hadn’t heard that story before – and it was repulsive. “I’m so sorry for that.” She knew just how much that must have affected anyone who then had to go into battle against the same enemy that had just devoured some of one’s friends. The hate, and the fear that this would trigger within some, it was hard to put into words.

“What was the first thing you did when you came home?”

Y/N looked up, smiling so that she wouldn’t look sad. “I didn’t come home for a long time after having returned to America.” She looked at the ceiling: “But the first thing I did in the US was seeing my parents. Well, I thought I’d go see my parents. I hadn’t heard my mother had died in my absence. My dad had remarried, and was livid when I showed up. I guess he was just hurt that I had left him, and my mum, without saying a word. I knew they were against me going, that’s why I didn’t say anything. Can’t fault him for being angry, though.”

“He can’t stay angry at you volunteering, though”, he objected before sneezing.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks”, he said before continuing, “But like I said. He better suck it up at some point. You should tell him just how valuable your work was.”

Y/N laughed, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, how do you think that’ll go? ‘Hi Dad, we haven’t spoken in three years, but please stop being angry with me, I did good over there, you wanna see the record of men I killed in an array of ways? Pretty please?’ Cause I know my dad, and he’ll kick me out the house.”

“Then I’ll talk to him.”

“Then you risk getting your jaw dislocated again, and to be honest, I don’t want to risk that, either”, she grinned.

“I managed to hold my own against trained agents and assassins, I’m sure your old man won’t knock me down”, he joked, “he might not have been my biggest fan at university, but I doubt I had many of those.”

“I’m sure he’s happy with his new wife”, Y/N said, “Mariah. Should’ve seen her face when I showed up. As if she had seen a ghost.” She huffed. “But you know, it might have made starting over easier. Hell, it made the job overseas easier. So many were worried about their parents, and I didn’t have to worry. And the last time we spoke, they made it pretty clear that by doing something like this, I was crossing a red line for them.”

“You say that, but for most, family was what made them continue the fight. To see them again. You make it sound like you didn’t have that at all.”

She pressed her lips together. “Of course I did. But it was all hypothetical. I wanted to see my friends again, the ones from America, the ones I met in England. But they all went to war, too. Would they still be alive when I returned? Thinking about that just made me anxious. So I tried not to do it often.”

Granted, Y/N had thought about home a lot when abroad. But not necessarily about her parents. It had been a blessing and a curse, as it had given her strength to push on, but also, it terrified her. She wanted to come back alive. But she didn’t want to return alone. And up until early 1946, she had no idea if Jack had survived. Then, she read about him in a paper because of the entire Navy Cross thing, before seeing him at the SSR shortly after.

“I nearly had a heart attack”, she said, realising that he had no way of following her train of thought, so she added, “when I read a story about New York servicemen that were awarded medals for their valour in war. Most of them had ‘deceased’ next to their names. Then, I saw yours. That split-second it took me to realise that you were not, I’ll never forget that.”

He couldn’t help but to grin.

“Idiot”, she remarked, shaking her head.

“How’d you end up with Peggy recommending your for the SSR? She’s not the most sociable person with a bunch of friends, how did you even know her?”

“No”, Y/N agreed, “I met Peggy overseas in England. We were taught codebreaking together, even shared a room for some time. She told me a bit about her upbringing, I told her a bit about mine. When she continued her job at the SSR and started working at the New York office, it didn’t take her that long to realise that chances were quite high you and I know each other given our similar age, identical time at the same university, and studying the same course. She wasn’t your biggest fan, so she asked me to apply. And, I suppose, lay in a good word with Dooley.”

Jack raised an eyebrow: “You told her about university?”

Y/N laughed at his question: “What are you insinuating? That I told her about your records of barfights?” She shook her head: “No, of course not. I would never infringe your reputation without prior consent, Chief.”

She stood up, collecting the dishes. “And for heaven’s sake, take the bed for the night. You’re way too tall for my sofa.”

“But then you can’t sleep in the bed, otherwise I’ll make you sick, too!”

She rolled her eyes with a laugh: “Jack Thompson, I’ve slept on the ground of an abandoned warehouse in minus degrees Celsius. I’ll survive a night on my sofa in a well-heated, dry room. So you better move.”

……………

Y/N was truly impressed the next morning when she was the first to leave the apartment, with Jack still asleep. She could maintain the lie for a day longer without much hassle, and she knew McKinley was back in the office today. As much as it pained her to tell him that Thompson made him the acting chief during his absence, she knew he was by far the most qualified man for the job – and that second part was, unfortunately, fundamental. He was the best man.

“Did he tell you what happened?”, McKinley asked her, sincerely concerned, and she shrugged.

“Nah, I think it was something with his grandmother. He’s in her eighties, so I guess that comes with age.” ‘Sorry, Gam-Gam for dragging you in this’, Y/N thought to herself before making her way to her station.

Eventually, the phone rang, and Y/N picked up, with her signature line, only to realise the person at the other end of the line was saying it with her, causing her to stop mid-introduction.

“Peggy.”

“Good morning, Y/N, how was Christmas?”

“Good”, she said, “though we’re one man short right now. Thompson’s out of the house.”

“What? Did he get a case?”

“No, no case.”

“Is he alright?”, Peggy questioned irritated.

“Always”, Y/N said, elongating the word enough for Peggy to catch on.

“Ah. Because of alcohol or because of a viral infection?”, her question made Y/N laugh.

“For once, it’s the second.”

“Poor thing”, Peggy remarked sarcastically.

“Careful, if he hears that, he’ll punch you right in the face. Or at least he’ll try”, Y/N said with a grin on her lips, “But what’s the matter? Any update on our candidate?”

“He’s actually doing great”, Peggy remarked, “I… I didn’t expect him to be that much of a thorough asset. Good job for recommending him.”

“I made use of what we had, Peg, if he performs well, then I just got lucky”, Y/N tried to diminish the praise.

“We have a date, Y/N. And a location”, Peggy said, causing Y/N to turn dead-serious and focused.

“January 9th, 14:30, Miami.”

She proceeded to give Y/N the exact address, and Y/N wrote it down without asking further questions.

“We assume it’ll be Keller and seven SSR agents. That’s how many have disappeared in the last weeks without turning up dead.”

“Fantastic, that’s more than we knew for DC”, Y/N remarked sarcastically, “What’s the plan proposed by you and Chief Sousa?”

“Well, given we can’t trust the SSR”, Peggy remarked with audible bitterness, “It will be those that we can, which means Daniel, me, Jack, and you.”

“No to the first one on the list”, Y/N replied, careful not to repeat anything that could give the contents of her call away to any of the agents listening in.

“I know he’s still injured, but otherwise we’re incredibly thin!”

“How about flowers?”

“What??”, Peggy asked, “Flowers?”

“Yes, don’t you want to bring flowers with you?”, Y/N repeated, hopeful that Peggy would get her question the second time around.

For a moment, there was silence. “You mean Rose?”

“Yes.”

“…You’re right, Y/N. But I’m sure Daniel will want to be there, even if only driving the getaway car.”

“I can get behind that”, Y/N said, “Thanks Peggy! I’ll make sure to send for flowers.”

………

The time until D-Day was a blur with the workload only increasing. And Jack really didn’t like their odds – an injured Sousa, himself, Peggy, Y/N, and Rose? Against seven trained SSR agents, and a Nazi? He knew that if he’d complained, he would’ve been accused of misogyny again, but it wasn’t the fact that the men were in the minority that bothered him. Rose had barely any real field experience, and the rest of the crew had self-sacrificing tendencies. That’s what bothered him.

“It’s the best we can muster”, Y/N commented when they congregated in Miami.

“That’s quite the achievement. I could’ve asked Sherman, you know?”

Y/N gave him an unimpressed look: “And tell him what, exactly? Last time, it was communists, that’s fair enough. This time, it’s Nazis. HYDRA. The general public has no idea they’re still out there.”

They met up with the L.A. delegation in a secure location outside the city.

Y/N and Jack entered the building, hearing movement from above. They found them in a room, all together.

When the two of them entered, Y/N could feel everyone face her or Elias. The young scientist stood in the room, a bit awkwardly. But he tried to make the tension go away by smiling at them. “Chief Thompson. Agent L/N. It is good to see you.”

“Thank you for agreeing to do this”, Y/N said sincerely.

He shook his head: “No, no. I said to Agent Carter – it was one thing to support them when they were in power, but now? That means they must be mad. And that they must be stopped by whatever means possible.”

Jack still found the kid rather strange. “Why- don’t you have any sympathy for them? I mean, no offence, but you did grow up in a system defined by their thought.”

“Yes, I did. But I think I lost my faith when in the final stages of the war, the ones who always claimed to have the answers all deserted, escaped the country, or killed themselves. It was a faith, really. Coming here, I saw that politics shouldn’t be about belief”, he said quietly, “and, Chief Thompson, only because I mourn my family does not mean I do not understand that we were not the primary victims. I have no intention on repeating the Dolchstosslegende.”

“Yeah”, Thompson grunted, “You better. I have no intention of sending my kids off to star in ‘the Allies versus Germany, Part 3.’”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, both at his choice of words, and at mentioning the possibility of ever having kids.

“Anyway”, Y/N interrupted their back and forth, “you all know your plan?”

“Yeah”, Sousa nodded, “We briefed all of ours. Who’s gonna take Schmitt?”

Without hesitation, Y/N raised her hand. “Me.” She met the man’s eyes: “If you want, that is.”

“Y/N-“

“Of course”, Elias spoke over Thompson’s interjection.

Y/N turned to Jack, knowing that he didn’t want her to do it. “I’m not planning on dying, Jack. But we need someone who speaks German to shadow him. Means, either Peggy or I will have to, as Sousa’s already taken a bullet from the man. And if the last time, it was team Carter/Sousa that was hit, it’s only fair that now it’s team L/N/Thompson.” She looked at Elias and nodded: “Besides. I owe the kid for ever agreeing to do this.”

“I get that, I do-“

“Just do as Y/N says, Chief Thompson”, Peggy interrupted the next attempt by him to change Y/N’s mind, “if all goes as planned, she’ll only have to take one shot.”

Sousa directly continued, so as to end any chance to prolong the debate: “Alright. Everyone take a bulletproof vest. In personal experience, it could turn out to be useful.”

…………

Their formation was laid out so that Elias would enter the building on his own. Y/N’s route towards the building had been carefully laid out, she had three paths forward, and would decide once they had scouted the area on the day itself to make sure no one saw her coming. Elias and Keller had agreed to meet alone – which had been a lie on both ends. Elias came with the SSR, Keller with his henchmen. But it meant that within the building, which was a one-room warehouse, most likely, no men would be stationed. And if so, only very few, as not to scare the scientist away. Thompson, Peggy and the rest would close in from a distance, after making out the positions of all the agents and eliminating their possibility to interfere with Y/N’s detail to eliminate the threat coming from Keller. Y/N crouched below a window that was sheltered from the vision from others by a rusty garbage container. She had successfully tinkered with the window so that she could push it open gently. She heard the voice of Elias, softly and surprisingly calmly, greeting someone he addressed as Mr. Keller. They naturally spoke in German, but that wasn’t what struck Y/N. There were an additional set of footsteps. However, from previous intercom communications, she had heard that her colleagues had identified the seven rogue agents and had them in sight. Despite having now muted her device, she knew that there was no way in hell they let someone enter.

“Sir, Thomas’ just reported. Nothing unusual, except of a car stationed some miles away southwest.”

Not only did the voice speak in English, but his accent.

He wasn’t American.

He was British.

Y/N managed to glimpse into the room for a fraction of a second. Beside Keller was Elias, but next to Elias was a tall man, blond. ‘Looks remarkably like Jack’, Y/N realised subconsciously, but she was busier to figure out what that meant. Then, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

She had seen his face before.

She was staring at the face of a dead man.

“I thought we agreed on meeting alone, Herr Keller?”

“Don’t worry, Nineteen here is like my shadow. He won’t do anything I don’t tell him to.”

Y/N damned her life. She couldn’t kill his henchmen. Peggy would kill her. She couldn’t kill Michael Carter. She grabbed her communication device, knowing she couldn’t speak. But she could send an emergency signal. Despite no drop of blood having been spilled, this was an emergency.

……………

What the hell was Carter doing with a member of HYDRA? Hell, what was he even doing alive?? He had died before Y/N had even met Peggy – the only reason she knew his face was because of pictures Peggy had shown her. But there was no chance of being wrong, this Michael was definitely Peggy’s brother. And he was definitely fighting for HYDRA. And he was armed to the teeth. Whatever his motives were for doing so, he was certainly the brawns to Keller’s brains. She had intended to go in and ambush Keller, that way she could try to take him into custody. That plan now flew out the window. She had to shoot him and go one-on-one with Carter. And get the kid out of the line of fire.

‘Here goes everything.’

She waited for a few seconds, waiting for them to move into an advantageous position. Then, gunshots ruptured the silence.

‘Dammit’.

“Clear the-“ Keller was about to give an instruction to the blond when Y/N took her shot. The kill was ugly – the opposite of what Hollywood would have made it out to be. It struck him in the neck, blood gushing everywhere as he fell to the ground. Carter drew his gun, pointing at Elias, who was just feet away from the window Y/N had pushed open. She saw the barrel being pointed at the young scientist – and she knew where Carter was aiming. He wouldn’t hit the chest, which would’ve been not a huge issue given he, too, was wearing a bulletproof west. No. He was aiming straight for the head.

It wasn’t a decision she actively took, there was no time to think through options. She leapt through the window, hearing the click of the unloading gun and jumped, pulling Elias to the ground, covering him. She felt a sharp pain in her side, but she managed to ignore it.

“Lauf!”, she yelled, rolling across the floor to break her fall before jumping up, just feet away from the man who was preparing to take the next shot. Just in time, she managed to grab his arm and push it up, causing the next shot to hit the ceiling.

“Stop it”, Carter said calmly, reaching for a knife fixed to his hip, “you’re wasting your time.”

He went after her with his knife, and Y/N must give it to him – his coordination was impressive, as he was trying to free his hand with the gun from his grip, whilst simultaneously assaulting her with a knife. She ducked the blade, pushing against him with her bodyweight. She had to take him out before the others came through that door if he shouldn’t be to die.

“Sorry, Carter”, she grunted, “Gotta do it.” He looked confused, as she suddenly let go of his gun, pulling him towards herself, causing him to lose his footing for a fraction of a second – long enough for her to grab her own gun, spinning it, using it as a club to bash against his temple. She didn’t need more than one try to knock him out. The adrenaline, the fear of failure – as well as the experience she had – resulted in the blow being strong enough for him to fall to the ground like a stone.

Just in time. The door flew open and Peggy and Jack stormed in.

“What the hell happened?”, Jack yelled breathlessly.

“It would appear”, Y/N said dryly, having dropped her weapons to hold onto her bleeding arm, “the dead walk the earth.” She looked at Peggy, who was looking at the man who was lying face down on the ground. “You recognise him, Peg?”

“Recognise who?”, Jack asked irritated, “What the hell is going on?”

“Michael?”, Peggy asked, hardly more than a whisper.

Y/N leaned against the wall behind her, closing her eyes for a second. “Michael Carter. Peggy’s dead brother.”

“Agent L/N, this is all very shocking”, Elias, who had come in with Peggy and Jack said tensely, “But I think it must wait! You are bleeding.”

“What?!”

“Nothing, it hit my arm”, Y/N said dismissively, “Jack, you have to handcuff him. We need to interrogate him.”

“From where I’m standing, we better kill him!”

“Jack, we’re not killing him”, Y/N opposed with finality, “So handcuff him.” She looked at Elias: “You know where Sousa’s car is?”

“Yes, of course!”, he confirmed, “I called them when you told me to run.”

“Great.” She looked at Jack: “Get him to a secure location. I’ll get that stitched up.” She looked to Elias: “Lead the way.”

“Y/N-“

“I’ll be right back there!”, Y/N interrupted Jack before walking off with the scientist.

………..

“Peggy’s brother?”, Daniel asked confused, “What- how is that even possible?”

“I have no idea”, Y/N shrugged with the non-injured arm, “but we’ve seen crazier.”

Daniel huffed. On the way to the nearest hospital, there was a moment of silence in the car.

“Miss”, Elias began, “You… that bullet…”

Y/N shook her head: “Please. I put you up to this. The reason I wanted to come with you was because you wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t suggest you. You’re my responsibility. So of course, I’d take the bullet for you. A shot in the arm is much better than one in the head.”

He fidgeted with his hands. “I… was it all about responsibility, or because of redemption?”

She gave him a dry smile: “Kid, there is nothing I can possibly do or say to redeem myself to you.”

He shook his head. “No, there is nothing you can do or say to me that brings back Konrad. That much is true. But I do forgive you, Miss L/N. I hope you do, too.”

Y/N didn’t know if it was the pain from the gunshot wound, or if it actually meant that much to her. But she nearly cried. With a smile, she looked at the young man.

“Thank you, Elias. Truly.”

……………..

“Miss, how does a woman like you end up on the other side of a barrel?”

Y/N stared at the doctor who had stitched up the gashing wound on her left upper arm. There it was again ‘a woman like you’.

“What do you think, Dr. O’Brien?”, she asked back, eyebrow raised.

“I have no idea, that’s why I asked.”

“I am afraid, sir, that if I were to disclose my motives, the US government would arrest me for spilling secrets”, she replied sacrosanct, “and you, too, for knowing things no civilian should.”

It served its purpose to make the doctor shut up.

“You’ll have to be careful for a few weeks. You were lucky, the penetration wasn’t deep enough to fragment the bone, but it could still result in the stitches opening up again”, he said instead.

“That’s to be expected”, Y/N said, “Don’t worry, I got the brief of what to do with gunshot wounds back in 1942. I remember the drill.”

She leapt up from the operating table and gave him a handshake: “Thanks, sir. Have a good day!”

Y/N opened the door, walking into the waiting room outside.

“For hell’s sake, Y/N!”

A bit startled by the presence of Jack in the waiting room who jumped up from his seat as soon as she had opened the door.

“Geez, hello to you, too, J-“ Her sarcastic remark was cut short by being pulled towards him as he hugged her.

“I thought we agreed to not do that again!” Y/N realised he tried to sound ironic, but mostly to overshadow his concern.

“Yeah, it wasn’t necessarily on my to-do list”, Y/N agreed dryly, “but I couldn’t have killed Michael Carter! Peggy would’ve killed me!”

Jack inspected her bandage, frowning.

“How’d you even recognise him? Didn’t he die way before you came to England?”

“Pictures. Peggy showed me pictures of him”, Y/N replied silently, “did he wake up?”

“Carter’s Sousa’s detail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Right. Come on, cowboy, we gotta go assist, then.”

“Don’t you want to – I don’t know, take five minutes?”

She grinned: “Do you think my stitches look better in five minutes? Besides, if the fella’s handcuffed, I doubt he’ll swing his knife at me, again.”

Jack sighed, realising that convincing her to stay away from the man who had just tried to cut her into bits was a bad idea would be fruitless. “Have it your way. But we first have to search Keller’s hideout. We were able to get the address from one of the SSR-hacks. It’s a regular hotel room.”

“Sounds great.”

“I will go in first. You stay back until I give you the clear.”

Y/N knew that it was now her time to compromise. “Fair enough.”

A/N: Actually, I posted this a week ago, or even two weeks ago! But thanks to this wonderful hellsite, no one was notified. Love it. ANNNYWAYS. I hope you enjoy this whirlwind of a chapter, from heartfelt talks to nearly heartfelt bullets. Also: Yes, that story Jack referrenced really happened. And the dude who survived was indeed called Bush. George H. W. Bush, to be exact. Crazy story! Let me know what you thought of the chapter, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!!

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Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us

Previous Chapters 

Chapter 16

“What’s the bag for?”, Jack asked when Y/N emerged from her apartment with a bag in her hand, walking towards him standing next to his car.

“It’s Christmas”, she said as if it were self-explanatory.

“Yes, I have deduced that much by the ungodly number of decorations hanging in our neighbourhood.”

Y/N scoffed. “I managed to buy some presents for your parents”, she said, adding with a grin, “don’t worry. I put both of our names on there. Just pretend you had a say in picking them out.”

“What did you get them?”

Y/N contemplated making it a surprise for him, too, but then he wouldn’t be able to know what they’d get to pretend he helped choosing them.

Climbing into the car, she said: “Nothing fancy. I remembered from before the war your dad liked wine, and in my time in Europe, I had the upmost luxury of working with a Frenchman who told me with utter certainty that the wine from his region was unlike anything you can get in the states. It’s a Bordeaux.”

“I know absolutely nothing about wine”, Jack replied with a grin, starting the car.

“Why would you? It only has about 12.5 percent alcohol.”, Y/N retorted with dripping sarcasm, receiving a deadpan glare in response.

“And for your ma, I got a new Dutch oven. Realised hers was missing a handle when I helped her with the dessert last time.”

“Is that gonna be your first real Christmas since before the war?”, he asked eventually.

“Oh my, how dare you say my Christmas with Peggy was no real Christmas!”, Y/N replied with played outrage, “And yes. In a way it will be. I mean, I got to spend several Christmases in Germany, but I don’t count those.”

“How were they?”, he asked, throwing her a glance from behind the steering wheel.

She tilted her head: “Actually, surprisingly similar to Christmas here. They celebrate on Christmas eve already, rather than on the 25th. But the rest? The songs, the presents, the sayings, they’re incredibly similar. Some of them went to church, though by the later stages of the war, that was also fairly regulated.” She huffed: “But hey, it had the advantage that for songs like silent night, I now can sing them bilingually. Not sure when that’ll ever come in handy, but there we go.”

“I hope we don’t have to sing today”, he groaned, causing her to laugh.

……….

“Oh, Y/N, you managed to get him here!”, Angeline proceeded to hug her before bending down to take a look at her ring, “and he really did it! I knew it, I knew it the moment I saw you in that car! Oh, it looks so beautiful on you, sweetheart.”

Meanwhile, Lucas greeted his son by putting a hand on his shoulder: “Congratulations, son.”

“Thanks, pops.”

As Y/N greeted the elder Thompson, she shot Jack a glance: “Our presents!”

Venturing inside, the place was neatly decorated as Angeline had done so even in the 1930s. Jack made his way to the living room to put the bag next to the Christmas tree. He could his mother descend upon Y/N from the dining hall even from the distance.

“Now, you owe me the story. How did he do it? Tell me he did it as it should be done, with a speech and everything!”

Even with hindsight, thinking about the event caused him to get nervous – which was silly, right? It worked out, even if the speech wasn’t necessarily going to land him a role in Hollywood. A chance he had probably blown by both putting Whitney Frost into an asylum, as well as having an ongoing feud with the richest filmmaker alive – Stark.

“Don’t worry, Angeline”, Y/N replied with a laugh, “it was… I couldn’t have asked for anything better. It was wonderful.”

“Did he have a speech prepared?”

“Yes, ma, I had a speech prepared”, Jack interjected, now joining the rest of the family in the dining hall, “sorry I didn’t first give it to you to proof-read.”

“I still remember when your father proposed to me – a poet, I tell you”, she said, turning to her husband and giving him a quick kiss, “in 1918, just weeks after the end of the war! We were so hopeful! And we were married just months later, March third, 1919.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “Well, we won’t be that quick, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, we’re practically drowning in work at the moment”, Jack agreed, wanting to set realistic expectations in the timeline in regards to marriage.

“Yes, we’ve heard the rumours about all the arrests”, Lucas said, “made huge waves down at wall street. Some huge names among them, huh?”

“Can’t really say much about it, pop, it’s an ongoing investigation”, Jack replied apologetically, “not until we bring charges. You know the drill.”

“That’s why I never wanted to work in law enforcement, son”, Lucas grinned, “I actually like talking about my job, much to the despair of Angeline.”

“I can talk to Y/N”, Jack shrugged, “it’s not like she doesn’t know the cases.”

“Perhaps the one upside of working together in a job that is as precarious as ours”, Y/N remarked sarcastically before turning to Angeline: “Can I help you with something in the kitchen? Don’t tell me you already did all the work!”

“Oh, darling, when my son already has the graciousness to appear here, then the least I can do is prepare dinner – especially if he brings his fiancée!”, Angeline waved her hand, “but you can help me bring the plates to the table, if you want.”

Y/N followed her into the kitchen, where Angeline turned to her, checking the door behind them was closed.

“Is something the matter?”, Y/N asked, tilting her head.

Angeline shook her head, simply throwing a glance at the door. “Is he alright?”

Y/N huffed in response, giving her a smile: “He’s fine. I mean, he’s Jack. And sometimes, Jack’s a bit of a… pigheaded fellow. He’s just really wanting to finish the case, you know?”

Again, Angeline shook her head: “He better learn that this won’t work out for him in the long run. He’s just like his father, always work first.”

Y/N laughed: “Don’t waste your breath on it, I tried.” The truth was – work was all they had after they had come back from war. There was no real family left, not like before. Hobbies seemed irrelevant in comparison. She might scoff about his way of dealing, but she understood it better than most.

…………

After dinner, the Thompsons and Y/N went to the living room area, where the Christmas tree was decorated. Y/N laughed when she saw that Jack had literally put the bag beneath the tree, not even taking the presents out of the bag.

She quickly went to do so, putting them to the rest of the presents, which she assumed, Angeline hat put there.

“We got you presents”, Y/N announced, handing first Angeline her present, then Lucas his.

“Since when do you give us presents, Jack?”, Lucas asked with a lopsided grin.

“Since today, apparently.”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s nothing big.”

When Angeline realised what it was, she looked directly at Y/N: “You noticed??”

“Why’d you think she noticed? I could’ve noticed!”, Jack complained jokingly.

“Darling, what colour is my Dutch oven?”, Angeline asked, and it was obvious Jack was clueless.

“Red”, Y/N said, “It’s red.”

“And that, Jack, is why. I don’t need to be a federal agent to figure that out.”

And apparently, Y/N had gotten lucky with her pick in wine, despite having no idea what vineyard was good, or what year had been a good year, but apparently, it was a solid pick as Lucas went on to explain – unlike his son, he, apparently, understood something about wine. Jack received a new leather wallet, Y/N was gifted a watch – for which she felt terrible, as she really didn’t want other people spending money on her.

“Don’t even start, Y/N, first, you’ve missed about 7 years of Christmases, and second, you’re going to be my daughter-in-law, and I never had a daughter to buy presents for!”, Angeline objected her discomfort.

“That is immensely kind, thank you both”, Y/N said, still a bit unsure about the present, but knowing that refusing to accept it would be even worse than accepting it reluctantly, “Am I right to assume you two will drive up north tomorrow to visit Colette?”

Jack huffed: “It’s weird to hear you call Gam-Gam Colette.”

“Well, she ain’t my Grandma”, Y/N remarked with a grin.

“I’m sure she’d adopt you”, Jack shrugged.

“That’s definitely true”, Angeline laughed, and Lucas nodded.

“Yeah, we’ll head there tomorrow mid-morning. My brother’s family’s with her today.”

“Tell her I deeply apologise for us not being there”, Y/N said, “I already had to broker like a madman to get us here today.”

“For my part, I’d sleep easier knowing that our ongoing case is closed, you know”, Jack threw her a look, “it’s not like I just refuse to leave my office because I like the chair.”

“Oh, I know”, Y/N shook her head with a smile, “if all people had your work ethics, I’m sure the world would be running like clockwork. But I still believe one can spare one evening without the world imploding.”

“Have you seen our work?”, he scoffed, “things literally implode around us all the time.”

“If only Vernon had brought you to an accountant, rather than the SSR”, Angeline remarked in overdone desperation.

“I’m quite certain Jack would’ve quit on day two”, Lucas remarked, causing the rest to laugh – because that was spot-on. No chance Jack would’ve spent more than 48 hours doing taxes – as a matter of fact, he had always hated accounting. Maybe that explained his dislike for filing, too.

“Speaking of the SSR”, Jack picked up, “We might not be with them for that much longer. After this case is done, were leaving the SSR and change to the CIA.”

“You do?”, Lucas raised his eyebrows, “I thought you mentioned hating the new intelligence agency.”

“Oh, that was referring to the FBI”, Y/N said, “Unlike with them, we haven’t clashed heads with the CIA. At least yet.”

“CIA, FBI, SSR – how many intelligence agencies does one country need?”, Angeline asked, “this is even worse than it was during the war!”

“I suppose that’s because now we have to fight a war without calling it that”, Y/N shrugged.

“It’s labour-intensive work”, Jack added and huffed, “and it seems you need one agency for the threat within, one for the threat from without, and one to chase after Howard Stark’s constantly stolen doohickies.” He wasn’t wrong, in a way – but his unceasing resentment towards the inventor still made Y/N laugh.

“You met him, son?”

“Stark?”, Jack asked back, and his father nodded. “Yeah. Charming. Great sense for the newest fashion.” The cynicism dripped from every syllable.

“You must have missed their press conference”, Y/N remarked sarcastically, “It was a sight to behold.”

Jack threw her a glance telling her ‘thanks for bringing that up’.

“You should’ve referred him to me, Jack! Could’ve been the acquisition of a lifetime!”

“Seriously, pops?”, Jack rolled his eyes, “I sincerely doubt you’d want to spend more than three minutes with the guy in the same building.”

“Son, I’d meet with Stalin if that meant getting a client like Stark.”

………

“Thank you so much for the wonderful dinner, and the watch. It’s really, really beautiful”, Y/N said when walking outside the house, kissing Angeline and Lucas on the cheeks. She hated this kind of greeting, because ever since stepping a foot on European soil, she found it absolutely confusing – one kiss, two kisses, or three? It would change, it seemed, from city to city, or from person to person.

“Oh, you’re very welcome”, Angeline gave her a bright smile, “after all, I think it’s much to you we even got to see our son for Christmas!”

Walking to the car, Y/N waved goodbye to Jack’s parents, who returned inside, given it was bitterly cold outside.

“You wanna drive?”

The question made her abruptly look at her fiancé: “Something wrong?”

He laughed a bit confused: “I only asked you if you wanted to drive, not to resuscitate me.”

“Exactly”, she underlined, but shrugged, “Sure.” He passed her his keys and she walked to the driver’s seat, adjusted it and the mirrors, before turning on the engine. She was still trying to figure out what had gotten into him to even ask her to drive – the only time she insisted on driving was when he came from a bar. And for his standards, he hadn’t touched alcohol the entire evening. It was a quiet drive – the streets, for New York standards, were practically empty. Most businesses were closed because of the holidays, and most motorists were, apparently, at home, too. Y/N was about to comment on how under these circumstances, driving in New York was almost tolerable when she saw in the side mirror that she’d probably not get an answer. Jack had fallen asleep.

She smiled, shaking her head. ‘How typical’.

Given it was exam season and the next one was right around the corner, only three days away, social fairs had been reduced to trips to the cafeteria, at best. Y/N spent most of her time in the library, trying to do some revision for the exam on Friday, which was on the transformation of the state order in the aftermath of the Congress of Vienna. From the formation of new states to the establishment of international alliances, and the birth of constitutional states – and the demise of the system in 1914.

It had quite technical elements to it, as well as a bunch of words that were literally untranslatable and one had to rely on the French word, or, in some instances, the German. There were other annoying parts, such as the fact that European kings changed all the time, every dynasty seemed to only have two names to pick from, so you had to be spot-on with the number as a suffix – because, God forbid accidentally mistaking Alexander II with Alexander III, as they were practically polar opposites. Hence, Y/N was grateful to Austria-Hungary, which, for most of the period, only had one emperor. Franz Josef. In any case, she was at the library from 9 to 5, and would then go home and rest, reading something to take her mind off the matter. Her failsafe answer to any question regarding the immediate aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars was to talk about Metternich, 1860-90 was Bismarck-time, and then it would inevitably spiral to the unfortunate Kaiser that was Kaiser Wilhelm II. That approach seemed, to her, like a good balance between revision and relaxation. That was not the approach Jack took. He’d be in the library for just as long, until the librarians would kick him out, and then he’d study again from 10 into the morning. That session, Y/N found pointless. Why not just go to bed, and continue revision the next day – well-rested? But after having experienced multiple exam seasons already, she didn’t even try to change his mind. His mind was set, and that was the end of the story.

They mostly studied on the same floor of the library, albeit not in the same section. Y/N was returning from the bathroom, heading back to the station, when she walked past the area where Jack usually studied, so she decided to pay him a visit. After all, they were taking the same exam. Well, that was the plan.

But as it turned out, she’d not get much of a conversation, given Jack had fallen asleep face-down on his notes.

‘I told you’, she thought, ‘I told you so. But no, I was just being a wuss, right? So much for tough guy, great job falling asleep in the middle of the goddamn library.’

Naturally, she didn’t say any of it out loud. Should she wake him or let him sleep? He’d want her to wake him up. Was it smart? Probably not. But it was what he would’ve wanted.

“Jack”, she shook his shoulder, causing him to jolt up.

“W- What?”

“Welcome back”, she said, grinned, and left him to it.

“Jack”, Y/N shook his shoulder. He blinked a couple of times, frowned, looked around.

“We’re here”, Y/N said, “And unfortunately, I can’t carry you inside.”

“I’m up.” He rubbed his eyes whilst the turned off the car and got out.

“When are you going to the office?”, she asked, walking up to her front door and opening it with her key.

“I dunno”, he yawned, “7-ish.”

She raised an eyebrow, raising her new watch to his face: “That is in five hours.”

“Exactly.”

“You, Mr. Thompson”, she muttered, “Are unbelievable.”

She went to take off her makeup, when she heard him call from the bedroom: “Is that box on the bed intentional?”

“What do you think, Agent Thompson?”, she replied, “that I’d not gift you anything?”

“I wanted to give you yours tomorrow, but I guess two in the morning is technically the day intended.”

“Smartass”, Y/N grinned, returning ready for bed to the bedroom. “You can also open it later and go to sleep now.”

“Nah, I’m wide awake now.”

He handed her a parcel on his own, which she knew was big for him. He was convinced that he was a terrible gift-giver. And gift-receiver, for that part.

“You know that you don’t have to give me stuff”, he said whilst unwrapping the present.

“Ditto, but here we are, both giving each other something. Just imagine I didn’t get you anything!”

Beneath the wrapping paper was a box – and inside the box was a framed picture, as well as a little pouch with a note on it.

The framed picture was from their graduation.

“I remember that”, he said with a smile, holding it up, “You looked great.”

“My feet were hurting, and I was cold.”

“Yeah, I remember that, too”, he grinned, “I gave you my coat.”

“That you did”, Y/N smiled.

He put it to the side, then held up the pouch so that he could read the note. Unlike you, it missed the heart. He frowned: “A riddle?”

“I’m way too unimaginative to come up with a riddle”, she said laughing. He opened it and almost dropped the content.

“Please don’t make rings out of it, though.”

“You held on to that thing??”, he asked, taking the bullet into his fingers. That was the thing – the thing that had nearly killed him.

“I didn’t want to leave it in the hotel room, and after I finished my job and knew we didn’t need it for further evidence, I don’t know why, but yeah. I didn’t throw it out”, she shrugged.

“Pretty weird to see that thing”, he stated, putting it back in the pouch, “but I guess every time I look at it, I remember that you’re the reason I’m still breathing. Though the scar’s permanent reminder of that, too.”

“I’ve never seen a more beautiful scar”, she said – truthfully. “It means you pulled through.”

“That’s certainly one way to look at a scar”, he huffed amusedly. “Thank you, Y/N. For the presents, and well. For what lies behind them.”

She smiled: “You don’t have to thank me for any of it.”

He tipped towards her present with his chin: “Go on. Open it.”

Cautiously, she unwrapped it. It was a box, too. So she, too, opened the box.

“No”, she said, in disbelief, “I gave that to that fella from the rowing club to pay him off!” It was an old keychain, one that she had once been given by her own grandma. It wasn’t anything particularly special, a metal triangle with a jade stone at the centre, which for some reason, that rowing guy had found fascinating. And it was enough to make him not go to the principle with charges against Jack and his friends.

“Yeah”, he nodded, “you did. I won it back a few weeks later during a poker game. I wanted to give it to you at the graduation ceremony, but I forgot it and then the war came.”

She laughed, but was also genuinely touched by it. After all, it had been one of the only things she had from her grandma, who had passed when she had been young. “It’s fantastic. Really. Thank you!” She admired the stone on the keychain for a few seconds before giving Jack a kiss. “You should’ve really stuck to poker, rather than that goddamn Piccadilly Commando, though.”

A/N: I know, a slight delay from what I said last time. Many apologies! But at least now it’s mid-October, so it might not be as silly to have a chapter dedicated to the holidays. I hope you enjoy it - and do let me know if you want to be added/taken off the tag list. Also, feedback is always welcome. Reblogs are always a highlight. But any engagement, really. 

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[xxruinaxxmcu]

I want to take this moment to thank Sarah for always reblogging my work, it has helped me through the years it took to write this story! As much as it is my writing, it’s your support that made it possible 💛

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us

Masterlist (previous chapters, book 1)

Chapter 15

Upon their return in New York, company awaited them in the SSR – more specifically, in the bullpen. Peggy and Daniel were waiting for them.

“They look livid”, Y/N commented, seeing the obvious anger on Daniel’s face, and the absolute frustration on Peggy’s.

“Philips, I’d guess”, Thompson said quietly, as the two of them joined them in the bullpen, closing the door to make sure no one else could be listening.

“You could’ve warned us before calling the director!”, Daniel hissed, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“You know how our chain of command works, Sousa, and this needed to be done urgently.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Hey, give us a break, Daniel”, Y/N interjected, “I know this is a shit situation for all of us, especially for you, but we literally flew halfway across the globe to take out whatever base HYDRA had in Japan, and destroyed their ability to reopen a rift in space with Stark’s gamma cannon.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N”, Sousa said, now much more quietly. She simply raised an eyebrow.

Keep reading

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us

Masterlist (previous chapters, book 1)

Chapter 15

Upon their return in New York, company awaited them in the SSR – more specifically, in the bullpen. Peggy and Daniel were waiting for them.

“They look livid”, Y/N commented, seeing the obvious anger on Daniel’s face, and the absolute frustration on Peggy’s.

“Philips, I’d guess”, Thompson said quietly, as the two of them joined them in the bullpen, closing the door to make sure no one else could be listening.

“You could’ve warned us before calling the director!”, Daniel hissed, trying his best to keep his voice down.

“You know how our chain of command works, Sousa, and this needed to be done urgently.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Hey, give us a break, Daniel”, Y/N interjected, “I know this is a shit situation for all of us, especially for you, but we literally flew halfway across the globe to take out whatever base HYDRA had in Japan, and destroyed their ability to reopen a rift in space with Stark’s gamma cannon.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N”, Sousa said, now much more quietly. She simply raised an eyebrow.

“Philips contacted Howard. He wants that he and I rebuild an organisation in which the SSR is only a part of”, Peggy began, looking intently at the two New York SSR members, “He intends for it to have a broader range of duties than the SSR ever had. It’s supposed to be called S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Shield?”, Jack snorted, “Yeah, why not just call it Captain America’s fan-gang.”

Y/N chuckled, and even Daniel cracked a smile – Peggy only shot him an annoyed glance.

“I didn’t come up with it, Jack”, she replied, “It’s apparently a shorthand for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”

“Sure”, Jack nodded amusedly, “There’s a way to make any shorthand work.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “It will take time to build up this new organisation. In the meantime, we will have to continue within the frameworks of the SSR, try to hunt down the rest of the Arena Club members, and especially Mr. Keller, who’s now probably somewhere hidden in the middle of nowhere together with Agent Eden. There aren’t many people within the SSR I trust not to be working with HYDRA… but I trust you. So if you want to remain within the organisation, and transition to working for S.H.I.E.L.D., I will keep your names on the books.”

There was a moment of silence, where no one truly knew what to say. Such a decision, you don’t make within the blink of an eye.

“And that after you threatened to shoot me”, Jack joked instead.

Y/N mustered a smile: “Thank you, Peggy, for your trust. On my part, if that is possible, I will consider it for a few days.”

“Ditto.”

Peggy nodded – after all, this didn’t need to be confirmed right away.

“I thought about how to get to Keller”, Y/N then announced, seeing three rather surprised faces when she did so, “The only way for us to find him is to tempt him with a bait, a bait suitable for a HYDRA member interested in scientific revelations. I thought long and hard about who could fill this role, and no one came to mind. Most of Stark’s employees are Americans, Doctor Vanko is Soviet, and I don’t know if HYDRA’s already desperate enough to work with what they consider ‘Untermenschen’. But we have one ace up our sleeves. A young man who offers to serve HYDRA, sell out Stark intel to get back at the people that had wronged him, that had taken his brother away from him. In an act of revenge, he volunteers to join HYDRA. And best of all, he fits all their recruitment targets. Right ethnic background, can show incredible loyalty within his family during the war, himself a member of the HJ. It’s the ideal match.”

“We’re gonna use Schmitt as bait??”, Jack asked her – just to confirm.

“He has potential motive”, Peggy agreed, “Y/N, you’re brilliant!”

“We can’t just use a civilian, he’s untrained!”, Sousa interjected. Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“I doubt this man is completely untrained. He will have had boxing lessons as a kid, that was part of the curriculum of the Hitler Youth. And most likely, he was also made familiar with guns. Regardless, we will obviously make sure he’s not killed, he just has to lure him out in the open. Then we take him out.”

“We’ll kill Keller?”, Sousa asked, frowning.

“Buddy, he already shot you once, and we don’t have to collect a billion HYDRA agents in our prisons”, Thompson deadpanned, “So even if we go in with the objective to capture, I wouldn’t be too hesitant to put a bullet in the guy’s brain.”

“I’ll contact him”, Peggy said, “and will report back once we’re ready to make our move.”

…….

Only when they were at Y/N’s place did Jack and her get the chance to talk about Peggy’s offer.

“What do you think?”, Y/N asked, “You’re planning on staying?”

He sighed. The comfortable route would’ve been to say ‘yes’. After all, he had a great position within the SSR, and with Daniel, Peggy and Y/N, he knew a handful of people he could rely on. But he also began to question if the SSR’s business of hunting HYDRA and Leviathan was what he wanted to do for the rest of his career. He didn’t have the same passion for hunting HYDRA that Peggy had. If anything, he wanted to make sure the Reds were being kept out – all of them, not just the ones that were after Stark tech.

“What about you?”, he asked back, not knowing what to answer.

Y/N tilted her head. She had earned her life’s purpose spying. She never had to deal with HYDRA before, there were enough “normal” Nazis to be hunted down. HYDRA was, after all, just a miniscule part within the Third Reich’s warped notion of Germanic influence in the world. “I can’t… I can’t understand why we are obligated to keep men like Zola or Fenhoff alive within our prisons when all they are is a liability. I can’t hunt the same agency we cooperate with. Especially if we have to assume they’re our co-workers. I will finish this job, and we will hunt down every last one of those bastards within the Arena Club. But then? My skills are for hunting other targets. Dooley had me investigate the mafia, but nowadays, that’s not under our jurisdiction anymore. That’s the FBI now. But God, call me biased, but I don’t fancy working for Vernon’s boys.”

Jack lifted a corner of his mouth, finding it amusing how they had reached such similar conclusions without even talking to each other about it beforehand.

“What?”

“You know, I thought the same thing”, he had grabbed two glasses, now reached for the whiskey, “the CIA it is, then.”

He handed her a glass to toast, knowing that she’d probably not actually touch the drink after the ceremonial clinking of the glasses.

“I’ll give Senator Cooper a ring. Though our resumé should be sufficient”, he grinned.

“Yeah, I’m quite certain he’ll list me as your secretary, though”, she retorted, raising her glass to meet his. “To one last job.”

“In the SSR”, he corrected before almost downing the entire glass like a shot, causing Y/N to roll her eyes with a chuckle.

“What?”

“You in a hurry or why do you drink this petrol like the devil’s behind you?”, she asked amused, switching his almost empty glass with hers.

“If you hate it, why’d you keep it in your house?”, he asked back, accepting her glass.

She simply laughed: “By this point, I’m conditioned to keep at least one bottle in reserve given you practically live here. We all have our vices, and this is yours.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“I told you, it has gotten better compared to 46”, she said with a grin, “though I can’t really comprehend why you drink this stuff pure. You always have, even at university.”

“You want the truth?”, he said with a lopsided smile, “Much cheaper.”

She shook her head – typical Jack-reasoning.

“And it’s an acquired taste.”

“Why would you want to acquire the taste of certain death?”, she joked, and he raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“It’s funny”, he said, taking a sip, “Sousa’s said the exact same thing.”

Y/N snorted: “Good to know the SSR will at least maintain one man with the ability to see the big picture.”

“They’ll have Peggy.”

Y/N winked: “I said one man. I’m sure they can rely on Peggy until the day she dies.”

…….

Meanwhile, L.A. Stark Laboratories.

“W- Why am I being interrogated again? Have I done something wrong?”, Elias asked, looking anxiously at the brunette who had led him into a small room.

“You have done absolutely nothing wrong, Mr. Schmitt”, Peggy said, pointing to a chair for him to sit down, “As a matter of fact, Mr. Stark is very impressed by your work on the rocket engines.”

“Then why? Is it because of your colleague? The y/h/c one?”, he asked, voice still thin.

“Not in the way you mean”, Peggy said, sitting down herself, “Tell me, Mr. Schmitt, have you ever heard of HYDRA?”

“Hydra?”, he repeated confused, “The Greek monster?”

“No, the Nazi organisation”, Peggy replied, but she thought his confusion to be genuine. He didn’t know about HYDRA – most Germans didn’t.

“Never heard of it. Did my brother work for them?”

“No, at least, nothing would indicate that he did. We hunted them during the war, thought that they were eradicated. It would seem that we were mistaken.”

He looked at her, obviously wondering what this all had to do with him.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but I have no knowledge of this organisation. I can’t even tell you much about the SS, and my brother worked there.”

“It’s quite alright, we know all we need about HYDRA. See, Mr. Schmitt, some days ago, a HYDRA member disappeared. We need to lure him out of hiding”, she began, “and we can’t trust our SSR agents to do that job. Unfortunately, many of this man’s close contacts have met several of our agents, so chances are, he’d be able to uncover them.”

He looked at her, still confused.

“HYDRA predominantly recruits men with a… certain profile. Men, only men. Preferably German. With a background in science. In other words, men like you, Mr. Schmitt. Which is why, after some deliberation, Agent L/N recommended you for this job.”

His mouth fell open: “What??”

“I believe”, Peggy paused, “I believe she trusts you to be on our side. Which, I must say, surprised me, given her background with your family. But in any case. Your job would be to contact our man, to convince him that you have something of value. Stark technology. Something that you can offer them for them to meet with you in a secure location. When said meeting is scheduled, you will be accompanied by our best to assure your safety.”

“If those men – HYDRA – if they’re Nazis”, he said shocked, “they’re dangerous! They’re mad! It was one thing to work for the Nazis when they were the ultimate source of power, but to do so now? They must be insane!”

“Perhaps, but insanity can be incredibly dangerous”, Peggy replied, “And Mr. Schmitt, it would not go unrewarded. We will put in a good word at the Office of Immigration. We would be able to get you your citizenship.”

Elias remained silent for a good 30 seconds. This was a huge commitment.

“What do you say, Mr. Schmitt?”

He exhaled, collecting himself. He looked up, now determined. “Yes. I say yes.”

It would be a long shot – establishing communication, establishing trust – it would take a while. By an ironic twist of fate, the boy who had wanted nothing but to uncover the identity of the spy that had gotten his brother had become the spy himself.

………..

The next weeks were rough, and most days, the only time Y/N and Jack saw each other was within the walls of the SSR during working hours. Though Jack didn’t have nightshift every day, he hardly left the agency before two in the morning, and was there by 7:00 latest. Hunting down the remaining members of the Arena Club, Keller aside, was now top priority, and all possible resources were mobilised to get a handle on the problem as soon as possible. He made sure every police force in the country knew the faces of the men they were after, as well as the Office of Immigration, boarder patrol, hell, he even informed the FBI. By the end, he wanted that there was no law enforcement officer on US soil who didn’t know who they wanted to be arrested.

But Sousa had been right when he had moaned about how difficult it was to take Hugh Jones into custody – turns out, going after some of the richest, most influential men in the country ruffled some feathers.

“I think you didn’t get what I was saying”, Jack seethed into the telephone, inches away from screaming into it, “I gave you the paper trail connecting them to various cases of espionage and treason.”

“Sir, by all due respect-“

“Stuff it!”, Thompson interjected, “And so help me God, if you don’t do your goddamn duty right now, sir, I swear I will leak this story personally to the Washington Post!”

Silence.

“You understand now?”

“Yes, sir.”

After ending the call, Jack stared at the telephone. Sometimes, he really wondered if they were actually achieving anything, when they were working with people who obviously didn’t share their interest in actually bringing people to justice who didn’t fit the bill of being communist spies. What purpose was there of having power if you didn’t use it to get results? Why enter law enforcement, when you don’t enforce the law? This had nothing to do with political views, this had to do with integrity. For what did they offer up their lives in the thousands if not to upkeep the safety at home?

The door to the bullpen was pushed open and Y/N came in with coffee, interrupting his philosophical crisis.

“Weren’t you here like forty minutes ago?”, he questioned.

“Yes, probably”, she shrugged, filling up his cup, “but something has to keep you up and running, and it isn’t sleep, these days.”

“I want to have the case closed by Christmas”, Jack replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “The sooner, the better.”

Y/N laughed, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Never say ‘it’ll be over by Christmas’”, she said, shaking her head, “That’s what the Europeans thought in summer of 1914.”

He rolled his eyes: “I swear, if we’re still here in a year, I’ll ask you to shoot me.”

“Yeah, sorry, you’ll have to ask Peggy to help you with that”, Y/N replied with a grin, turning around, “But we’ll get it done. Just… maybe just before New Year’s Eve.”

……….

Regularly, Y/N would get a report from Peggy on the progress regarding Elias Schmitt. She had to admit, she was surprised he agreed without more fuss. But Peggy had spent months on him, wiretapping conversations, eavesdropping and following him, and he came out clean. He was their best shot at luring out Keller – after all, the motive he had was better than anyone could have come up with as a cover story, and it wasn’t even a lie. They had used the rogue agent to initiate a line of communication between Keller’s men and Schmitt, with the explanation that he had gotten his name when the SSR had asked him to assist their lab rats on hunting him down.

Meanwhile, Thompson finally made some progress getting the rest of the law enforcement in line to make arrests of those members that were not in hiding – which meant a media frenzy, given that some of the names, such as Hayes, were publicly well-known figures, together with several of the most-well-known bosses of businesses. The crackdown also meant that the mafia realised that their plan had been spoiled, meaning they attempted to silence those who knew of their involvement, which resulted in Jack’s old pal from the fair, George Heath, to end up shot in the gutter.

“Chief, I’ve got four calls from the Times in the last three hours, they are about to break a story on the Arena Club”, McKinley sighed annoyed, “I tried to talk them out of it, but unless we pressure them legally to hold back the story, they’re not gonna listen.”

“For f- then get the editor on the line and tell him if they disclose anything that will affect the trial, they’ll end up in court themselves!”, Thompson barked, “we can’t have them talk about a secret organisation before we bring charges!”

“Chief-“

“McKinley, the editor!”

His deputy raised his hands, turning around to pick up the phone.

Jack clenched his jaw, annoyed that it seemed that everyone was currently conspiring to make this ordeal even more frustrating than it would have been anyways.

Y/N had observed the interaction from her station, shaking her head slightly. The magic limit for Jack’s tolerance for sleep deprivation was a week. He could function well for about one week with three to four hours, then it started to show. And this was exactly what it looked like when day 7 had passed. That had been exam season every semester at university. Mostly followed by stellar exams, one last hurrah at a bar, and then some viral infection because of the previous stress. She had always found it rather silly – not finding it particularly effective herself to study with such few hours of sleep. She had even tried to talk to him to change his ways – and spectacularly failed in achieving that, which is why she didn’t even try to talk him out of it now. Especially when day 7 had passed, there was no way to get through to him. Then he’d pull through out of stubbornness alone.

“I can call the editor, if you want”, she said to McKinley, who looked like he really didn’t want to talk to more journalists.

He looked at her with wide eyes: “You would?”

“Yeah”, Y/N shrugged with a grin, “you know, I can pretend to be the SSR’s lawyer’s secretary.”

“I owe you, L/N!”

…………

As a matter of fact, by December 20th, they had managed to arrest, or at least localise almost all members of the Arena Club. The big absent, of course, was Keller, who was still underground. From what Y/N had heard from Peggy, she believed that it would take at least another month for them to be in a position where they could organise a meeting without suspicion. Elias was in frequent contact with Keller, or his associates, and even sent them some of Stark’s blueprints – mostly of things like his hoover-car, which was less dangerous than his weapons’ designs. Especially given its rather volatile performance.

This was about two weeks after Y/N and Jack had returned from Okinawa, and Y/N was pretty sure in any other institution, Thompson would be granted at least two weeks of holidays to stutter off his overtime. But that was the pleasure of being the Chief – no one cared.

“Who’s the folks who’ll cover the 25th?”, she asked when filling up his coffee again.

“Wallace and m-“

“It can’t be you”, Y/N interrupted, earning a frown.

“What?”

“Wallace and whoever, but not you and not me”, she shrugged, putting his cup down, “we have a very important appointment that day.”

He raised an eyebrow and rubbed his face: “If you want me to play a guessing game, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the nerve.”

She rolled her eyes: “As a matter of fact, yesterday, at like 23:00, I got a call. You wouldn’t know, I know, you were still in the SSR.” She paused to underline her point, making him roll his eyes. “Your mother called. Wanted to know if you were still among the living. And she told me, and as a matter of fact, I quote her here, ‘you better drag him here for Christmas dinner, or so I swear, I will force him to join me at the Church for a dozen time’!”

He sighed.

“Don’t brood”, Y/N shook her head, “We ain’t arresting Keller on Christmas. It’s one dinner, Jack!”

“Fine. But I don’t have presents for them.”

Y/N laughed: “Yeah. You never had presents for them. I’m sure your ma will already be happy to just see that you’re still kicking, but I’d advise you to sleep for five hours for a change. Right now, you resemble a ghost.”

“Geez, thanks for the barrage of compliments”, he said dryly, reaching for the coffee.

“Why, of course”, she winked, “It’s my job, right?”

“Your job is to arrest men like Keller.”

“Yes, and we will, Jack, but tell me, do you think a German scientist, even if he is appearing to work with HYDRA, is likely to chose Christmas for a meeting with his HYDRA handlers? Germans, if you believe, really care about Christmas”, she reasoned with a sigh. Arguing with Jack was hard enough on a good day, and when he was low on sleep, it really was a pleasure.

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

A/N: Christmas theme in September... Is that even acceptable? Idk, but I hope you like it regardless! There *may* be a longer pause between this and the next chapter, but I swear, it will come in September. Just not sure exactly as to when. Also - return of Elias! I like him as an OC in this story, and I felt like he fit in perfectly in this narrative. And: I love the ‘it’ll be over by Christmas’ joke. Not sure how famous it is in the US as it referred to the 1914-period of the war, but I felt the need to put it in here. Also, if you want a weird WW1 story - the 1914 Christmas Truce is one of these things that sound so unreal in the backdrop of both world wars that were yet to fully unfurl their wrath. Comments & feedback as to which parts you enjoyed most are ALWAYS a highlight of mine! 

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Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (previous chapters, previous book)

Chapter 14

The one advantage of doing a job in an aera that was under a military government, and that military was American, was that at least Thompson’s clearance level made it more or less easy to get to the required documents. To the question of the Air Force’s intelligence officer as to why they needed the aerial reconnaissance pictures, he replied that they had information regarding stolen tech that was being hidden in the area. After all the stuff that was stolen from Stark, that sounded at least believable.

Taking an initial picture, he held it in front of Y/N’s face. “See these dots all across the streets?”

She nodded.

“Those are cave entrances. The ones that are hard to make out are probably the ones that were sealed up in 45.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. If all these dots were caves, then he had not exaggerated when he referred to the place as a honeycomb. They were literally everywhere.

“So if the coordinates are correct”, Y/N said, pointing at one area of the picture, “our target should be somewhere around here. Probably one of these dots.”

The images they had covered the last four weeks, and the shots were about two to three days apart. Again, one of the advantages of it being a very well-observed area.

“My money’s on the one to the left”, Jack eventually announced, “if you compare week one to week four, it seems like the threes around the entrance were cut down. The others seem undisturbed.”

Y/N looked through the pictures herself, just to confirm. But he was right. Whilst most dots showed little to no change, this one did.

“Right”, Y/N muttered, “So, what now? Confirming by infiltration is out of the picture. Hard enough to storm a building, I’m not storming a goddamn cave. I’d say we head down there, take a look around and find a place to set up a camera, whilst we hide further away and check the monitors.” Theoretically, she also thought about going there themselves and observing it in person, but she wanted to minimise the risks involved. And the target was stationary, which made using a camera possible.

She observed Jack’s face when she suggested the next steps. He seemed to ponder for a while, clenching his jaw as he did habitually, before nodding.

“Yeah. But after taking an initial look around, we better bury one of our explosives at the entrance before starting the surveillance. If we see anything, we can use the long-distance detonator.” He was aware that this would mean they’d never find out what actually happened in the cave, but he banked on it being in the files of some of the Arena Club people back in the states. The only other option would have been to throw in poisonous gas, and he really didn’t want to take his chances on the wind blowing in the right direction. Whilst he was less hesitant about blowing up the cave in its entirety, even if people were still inside, he really didn’t want to be held responsible for accidentally killing a bunch of civilians or American servicemen. One war crime was enough for one island.

“Agreed. You ever dealt with high explosives before?”, Y/N asked. Jack gave her a funny look.

“What do you think I do in my free time?”, he asked, tilting his head.

She rolled her eyes and grinned: “I didn’t mean your free time. But anyways, I have. We had to blow up some railways and factories for sabotage. Meaning, I’ll be the one to get the explosive in position.”

Though he wasn’t really comfortable at the thought of Y/N running around with a bomb in her hand, he realised that she had – evidently – done her fair share of incredibly dangerous missions, he had just not been there to see it.

“Right.”

“Fantastic”, she said, giving him a sarcastic smile, “seems like we’ll be out of here in no time. Which is good, considering the humidity is terrible for pin-curls, it appears.” She pointed to her hair – the normally neatly curled strands of hair stubbornly falling. “I can’t get my hair to behave here, no matter what I try.”

With a smile, Jack kissed her forehead: “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s a lie, or you’re just biased”, she retorted, “You’ve watched movies with Rita Hayworth!”

“Yes, but I’ve never seen her in person”, he shrugged, “who knows how she looks like at five o’clock in the morning?”

“Probably lacking the makeup, but I’d wager she’d still look stunning.”

“The last actress I spoke to turned out to be a maniac with space goo oozing out of her head, so I think I’ll stick with you”, he said jokingly and Y/N raised an eyebrow in sarcastic amusement.

“How very kind of you.”

Changing their clothes into something that more resembled the gear worn by the US personnel in the area, they got ready to venture out as soon as possible. Y/N took notice of the nature, which was a dense jungle in those parts that had not been levelled by artillery or aerial or naval bombardment. It looked nice, but given the warning of snakes and giant crabs, she was still rather apprehensive.

Initially, they surveyed the street by car, which meant they couldn’t stop indefinitely to take a closer look without arising suspicion. The entrance to the cave was far enough away from the street so that they hardly saw anything. Anything besides some trail that had been created by nothing but the times people having walked to and away from it.

Thompson’s eyes scanned the area from behind the wheel. Some locals walked past them, many of them with groceries in hand. Once they had seen Y/N and Jack, they would look to the ground and hurry to get away, which might have been suspicious if not for the fact that presumably they expected them to be with the army, and hence, they didn’t want to offend them or behave incorrectly.

Jack parked the car away from the presumed cave entrance, looking over to Y/N. They had prepared their cover – two biologists taking pictures and collecting samples of the local flora. Y/N had a good laugh when Jack briefed her – as the last job on earth he would and could possibly do was that of a biologist. Nevertheless, it offered an explanation for walking around with a camera. She, unfortunately, would have to pass as his assistant. In the bag she carried for him, she had different lenses, and beneath them, casually, the bomb that she would have to plant whilst he installed the camera. In total, they spent nearly five hours in the area, as to not appear to simply walk over to their desired position. That would have been highly suspicious. Rather, they slowly made their way towards the target, whilst on the way pretending to do what biologists would do.

For the first time ever, she envied Jack for his short hair, as despite having it tied up in a ponytail, she could feel the sweat in the nape of her neck as they stepped over scrubs and tree trunks towards the cave. They didn’t need to use words, when they spotted the cave entrance, which was covered up by a makeshift layer of leaves, Y/N simply looked at Jack, then they got to work. Y/N focused on burying the bomb deep enough for no one to see it, and for there to be enough soil on top of it that one could walk over it without feeling it. The bomb wasn’t sensitive to external forces, it was reinforced well-enough that a car could’ve driven over it without causing an explosion. It took some skill to position it correctly, but Y/N had enough experience to do it in under two minutes.

Jack hid the camera beneath branches and leaves, until it was nearly invisible. It was fortunate that the trees were fairly dense in the area nearby, meaning that it wasn’t that likely that the sun would hit the lens in an angle that would give its position away. They nodded to confirm the other was done, then, they continued their cover mission for another hour. Now, they were just biologists collecting stuff. Lacking a camera.

“You know what?”, Y/N huffed when they entered their car again, “I think I was unfair to L.A., at least in terms of weather.”

“You think this is bad? Wait until it rains every single day”, Jack replied with a grin and turning on the engine, “I tell you, might be great for holiday, but for digging foxholes? Absolute nightmare.”

Y/N shuddered: “But hey, we didn’t encounter snakes. I count that as a massive win.”

……….

Back in the apartment the military had assigned them, they set up the monitor to watch the scene.

“I’ll take the nightshift”, Jack offered, “I’ll wake you at five.”

“I can do the nightshift, too”, Y/N replied, “our sleep schedule is messed up from flying anyways.”

He waved his hand: “Really. I don’t mind.”

She tilted her head, intently looking at his face.

“Oh no”, he said dryly, “do I get another reading?”

“Reading?”, she asked back.

“Yeah”, he huffed, “of you reading my thoughts.”

Y/N shrugged: “I was just wondering whether you were being nice, or if you don’t like the thought of going to sleep here.”

“On Okinawa, you mean?”

She raised her eyebrows as a ‘yes’.

“Maybe”, Jack said quietly, pulling over a chair to settle in, “Maybe I just want another chance at actually doing a nightshift properly.”

Y/N sighed silently, but decided to let it go. There was no point in arguing whilst on a mission. So instead, she got ready for a few hours of sleep. The morning would come soon enough, anyways.

Surveillance sounded incredibly thrilling on paper, whilst in reality, it basically meant looking at a screen or a building for a very long time. It meant that you had to figure out a mechanism to remain focused, but not get tired easily. It gave you a lot of time to think, but you weren’t allowed to get lost in your thoughts.

Jack was delighted that the lab boys had managed to alter the lens so that he could still see what was happening, despite the lack of daylight. He had no idea how it worked, and truthfully, he did not care one bit.

He thought back to the night in spring 1945. It was L-Day plus two – two days after the invasion had begun, April 3rd. Tsuken Island was in the near the south of Okinawa prefecture, and they had made more progress in the first two days that they had anticipated. The fighting had been fierce, just two days later they would have managed to secure the entire Katsuren Peninsula. The island was under immense fire barrage, from the sea and air, and obviously from the now landed troops. Though the progress was good on paper, it was hellish for the men on the ground. They had landed in a freaking jungle, and most of the men who were here now came from rural America, more familiar with tornados than with monsoon. They had hardly slept, knowing that they had to secure the northern part of Okinawa as soon as possible to join up with the army down southeast to assist with the capture of Naha.

It had only been the third day, but Jack felt absolutely spent. Another invasion. And it would turn out to be another bloodbath. It would take 82 days to secure Okinawa. It would turn out to be 82 days in hell. And nights were terrible, anyways. The Japanese were proficient at silently infiltrating their ranks at night to ambush soldiers in their foxholes, which is why so many had forced themselves to push through with practically no sleep. Jack included. He had experienced multiple such attacks on Iwo Jima – unlike some of the other Marines and soldiers now making their way through Okinawa, he knew the enemy. After he had realised what he had done, after he had buried the flag and had gotten the praise from the men around him, which had made him sick to the stomach, he was right back in the mud. And it really turned into mud. After the initial days, the rain started to pick up. When they joined up with the southern force, the progress grinded to a halt. They hardly managed to gain an inch, and the hygienic conditions in their lines became abysmal. Not only were there the dead that could only slowly be evacuated, there was also human waste everywhere. However, what stuck with him forever was the civilians committing suicide. Mothers throwing their babies off cliffs before jumping themselves. All because of the propaganda that had been fed to them which told them that being captured by the Americans would be a fate worse than death. Hundreds of people must’ve died that way.

Iwo Jima had had one advantage. It hadn’t been populated. No civilians died there. And knowing how the Japanese treated their own citizens, it made Jack dread the next operation. Everyone was sure that the next stop would be Japan proper – they didn’t know about the atomic bomb yet. That was unknown to even high-ranking military officials. And seeing how much blood was shed over a tiny, uninhabited island, and now Okinawa, which was still tiny in comparison to mainland Japan, Jack had been convinced that America would run out of soldiers to send there before securing it. That they were spared that mission, well, it came at a great cost, too.

It was shortly after three in the morning when Jack noticed movement on the monitor. At first, he thought it was simply a wild animal or the bushes moving in the wind, but then, he saw two men carrying something to the entrance.

“What the hell”, he muttered, squinting at the screen. No, he wasn’t mistaken.

“Y/N, wake up!”, he bellowed, causing Y/N to practically jump up from the bed.

“What?”

“You recognise that?”, he asked, pointing at the screen.

She dashed over, and her jaw drop.

“That’s the goddamn gamma cannon”, Y/N said in a hollow voice.

“Either Vernon must’ve given blueprints to them, or Hugh Jones got a hold of them somehow”, Jack guessed, damning his godfather to another century in hell.

“Well, I guess that means they’re Arena Club associates”, Y/N stated, “And given that they’re collaborating with a fella who’s HYDRA, I’d say terminate ASAP.”

“You got that remote detonator?”

“You bet I do.”

Thompson gave her a quick nod. Better blow them up now where the gamma cannon hadn’t yet opened another rift, rather than having to rely on Howard Stark to help them restore the universe again.

Y/N didn’t have to search long, the device was in her purse.

“I’d say cover your ears, but I suppose we’re clear”, she said, looking at the device. It was strange. Knowing that she’d end the life of some people she hadn’t even met from relative safety. But that, 100 percent, had been a gamma cannon. She activated the device.

The blast dislodged the camera, and when it settled again, they couldn’t see the entrance. They just saw demolished nature.

“Good to know it can withstand a freaking bomb”, Jack commented cynically.

“This is rather anticlimactic”, Y/N stated, “But that cave’s collapsed now, for sure. That was enough TNT to take out an apartment block.”

Jack turned around to look at Y/N, standing there, in her dressing gown, and pin-curls in – which she still did, despite having said they wouldn’t last due to the humidity – and just started grinning.

“What is so funny?”, she questioned, “I unfortunately hadn’t had the time to get physically ready for a kill-mission!”

“You look fantastic”, he replied with a laugh, “Just… we’ve come halfway across the world, to the place I perhaps hate the most, to hunt down some Japanese allies to HYDRA, after we’ve gotten engaged like two weeks ago, my ma wants to talk to you so damn badly, and here we are, blowing up caves in the middle of the night whilst you found the time to pin-curl your hair. I think we give Peggy and Daniel a run for their money in terms of strange relationship.”

“Oh honey”, she said sarcastically with a grin before bending down to kiss him, “We’ve never done normal.”

……………...

They drove to the position that had just blown up, where the military was already on scene.

“What the hell happened?”, Jack asked the lieutenant in charge.

“Hell do I know”, the man shrugged, “Looks like they stepped on a mine. Or a bomb went off from the war.”

“Anyone injured?”

“Hard to say”, the lieutenant used a flashlight to illuminate the area that had formerly been the entrance to the cave, “there’s at least two feet of rubble burying anything. Looks like it hit a cave, though. A shame it only went off now, I’m sure that bastard could’ve been more useful in 45.”

“Yeah”, Jack said with a humourless grin, “I agree.”

“You were there?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, Agent Thompson.”

Jack looked at the lieutenant, confused. What did he thank him for? “For being on Okinawa then?”, he asked irritated, “I just did what needed to be done. We all did.”

“Sir!”, a soldier yelled from a few yards away, “We found human remains!”

To call them ‘humans’ would’ve been an overstatement, as it was hard to make out what exactly they were. It was the number of hands that they could identify that made them realise that they had discovered two casualties. Nothing else was identifiable – age, height, nationality – they were blown into bits.

“What the hell were they doing in a cave, in the middle of the night?”, the lieutenant asked, frowning, “soldier, step away! What the hell is that?”

He pointed to a piece of metal that reflected his flashlight.

Carefully, Thompson, L/N, and a handful of soldiers got off the debris burying the item. Y/N looked up at Thompson, who was himself looking at her.

The gamma cannon.

“What the hell?”

“Lieutenant”, Jack said, leading the man away from the group so that not every soldier could eavesdrop, “that thing is a highly volatile machinery that can manipulate molecules. It was first invented by Howard Stark to aid the SSR with a domestic threat a few months ago. If those men got their hands on the blueprints, I’d say we can all be damn grateful that they were blown to Judgement Day.”

The lieutenant looked at him visibly taken aback by the story: “Agent, you’re telling me some down-the-street Japs got their hands on blueprints by Howard Stark without any American office noticing it??”

“We are currently looking into multiple such cases, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”, the lieutenant snorted, “Sir, we’re fucked if the reds get their hands on these weapons!”

Jack nodded: “Believe me, lieutenant, that’s what the SSR, the FBI and the CIA are working on to prevent. Keep this low-profile, though. Best our enemies don’t know about this incident.”

“You bet.”

“And if you find anyone alive in there”, Jack pointed to the cave with his chin, “do yourself a favour and shoot. To kill. They ain’t civilians.”

“I can’t just kill people, we’re not at war-“

“Oh, we are”, Jack interjected, staring down the lieutenant in front of him, “I’ll contact your supervisors. This is an order straight from DC.”

Y/N had watched the interaction from afar, knowing that the military was arguably even more male-dominated than the SSR and her presence would only have been seen as intrusive. After they had secured the remnants of the gamma cannon, Y/N and Jack removed themselves from the area, heading back to their apartment.

“The goddamn gamma cannon”, Y/N said in the car, “would you have believed it?”

“Honestly, why is Stark’s security so freaking bad? His butler could do a better job protecting these items!”, Jack lamented frustratedly, “And why do we always end up running around the face of the earth to collect them again?”

“Because… we’re paid for it?”

“Severely underpaid if you ask me”, he snorted, making a turn.

Y/N tilted her head, thinking. “What strikes me as unusual is that the only one who was around the cannon closely enough when Samberly worked on it, was Vernon. Why would Vernon pass this on to Jones or someone else in that club? I thought he wanted zero matter to go away.”

“Do I look like I understood that old muckety-muck?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow and causing Y/N to laugh at his choice of words.

“No, and I think that’s also a good thing”, Y/N replied with a grin. She saw from the corner of her eyes that Jack was supressing a yawn. Though the sun was up by this point, that didn’t change the fact that unlike her, he hadn’t slept for a single hour since coming to Japan. “Alright, when we’re back, I’ll do the paperwork”, she announced, referring to the documents and reports that would have to be written to wrap up their mission, “and you get some sleep.”

“I can-“

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was about to say!”, he complained.

“Don’t have to”, Y/N shrugged, “This isn’t a negotiation. And before we’re going on our journey back, I want this paperwork to be done and you to sleep.”

Jack sighed. “Yes, mother.”

“Your mother would agree with me, and you know that.”

He scoffed: “That doesn’t mean you have a point, though. Ma would want to agree with you just because she adores you. I mean, she probably would’ve put that ring on your finger for me if I hadn’t managed to do it before you see her the next time.”

Y/N laughed: “Well, now she won’t have to do that. Which reminds me, we will have to squeeze in a visit between now and hunting down every last Arena Club member.”

………..

They returned to their apartment at around 8:30. At 13:00, Jack woke up from his nap, joining Y/N at the desk.

“You’re already done”, he realised when she handed him a stack of papers.

“It was blissfully quiet”, she said with a smile, “and it wasn’t that much.”

He sat down, flipping through the pages. Now, the next target were the members back in America.

“Jack”, Y/N said, her mood visibly darkened.

“Hm?”, he looked up, realising that something was headed their way. Something he didn’t yet know about.

“Before we left”, Y/N began, “Sousa called. We were in the office, and afterwards, surrounded by people we didn’t know. I didn’t want to have it affect our mission, as it has no effect on it. But now I need to tell you.” She didn’t give him time to say anything before continuing: “The L.A. office caught a lead regarding Keller’s whereabouts. They sent four agents to arrest him. Apparently was supposed to be an easy task. Three of the men are dead. The fourth is missing. So is Keller.” She watched his eyes, which darkened, and his jaw tightened.

“HYDRA.”

“We must assume that the SSR itself has been compromised. Whether it was just this one agent or multiple, I have no idea.”

“It’s a cancer”, he said darkly, yet surprisingly calmly. “Sometimes, the only way to kill it, is for the host to die.”

Y/N stared at him in shock: “What are you saying?”

“If the SSR is compromised, it has to be reorganised.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair: “You want to reorganise the SSR?”

“No”, Jack shook his head, “That’s beyond my level. That would be Colonel Phillips’ job. He’s still the director. I’ll send word to him when we’re back.”

“We might lose our jobs if the entire branch is restructured.”

Jack gave her a curious look: “You say that because you think that’s what I’m concerned with?” Before she could answer, he added: “You know, all screwups aside, we were decent at our jobs. Who knows, even if the SSR doesn’t give us a job, we might find one within the FBI or the CIA.”

Y/N silently nodded. Perhaps, he was right. Perhaps, there was a new era ahead of them.

“I will inform Sousa when we’re back”, she said quietly, looking outside the window, watching the dense forest outside swaying in the wind. It still struck her as odd – staying in such a tropical landscape just didn’t seem right for what they had just done. For what Thompson had done here years ago. It looked more like a place for a beach vacation, rather than a bloody battlefield. “Seems like we can go back. And this time, we had no losses. No complications.”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence between them. “There’s just one thing I have to get, first.”

Y/N looked up, whipping her head around. “Jack-“

He raised his hand to interrupt her. “I can’t keep it here. I should be back by tomorrow, we can fly back then.”

“Jack Thompson”, Y/N said slowly, standing up to stand right in front of him, lowering herself down to the desk he was sitting at to be on eye-level with him. He expected her to tell him to just leave it, that there were certain things one keeps buried. But she didn’t. “Like hell you are going there by yourself. I couldn’t be here in 1945, but I sure as hell will be here with you, now.”

……..

Approaching the island by boat, Y/N saw the coastline approaching through her binoculars.

“That’s Tsuken Island?”, she asked, looking over to Jack.

“Not much left after we were done with it.”

“It’s… it looks like it was firebombed!”, Y/N pointed out. Jack raised an eyebrow.

“In many ways, it was.”

The island was tiny – just over 2 kilometres in length and over 1 kilometre in width. Only in the north one could see a couple of palm trees, the centre section of the island was completely burnt to the ground. Craters scarred the earth, and the only semblance of life was another military base in the island’s south.

“You know where we have to walk? There are hardly any landmarks to orient us from”, Y/N pointed out when they left the boat.

“I know. We had to know the coordinates from our camps.”

Of course they did. Y/N clenched her jaw. She wished there was a way for her to know what Jack was going through right now, but he had closed off. As he had for the initial months they spent working together after the war. There was nothing in his eyes or on his face. He looked like the poster-soldier, steely eyed and tough, solely focused on his mission.

They walked for what felt like ages, but really, it probably was just under half an hour. They reached a field that was in an area that was relatively well-protected, and ideally suited for a makeshift camp site. He didn’t have to say that they were here, she knew it. Jack’s eyes scanned the area. To the side of the field, there were a few tree trunks that had survived the war, and the weather. Jack walked towards them, bent down, and started to search the soil beneath them with his hands. Y/N simply stood back and watched him. It didn’t take long. The flag wasn’t buried six feet underground, it was covered by maybe two inches of soil.

Holding it in his hands, Jack could only stare at the piece of cloth. That cloth had haunted him for years.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t even feel sad holding it, after all, it wasn’t like he had ever forgotten it. It didn’t bring back any memories he didn’t already have on repeat in his brain.

No, there was almost a certain solace in holding it.

“I’m sorry”, he said, quietly, he wasn’t even sure Y/N could hear it, “You weren’t meant to die that day. I’m sorry I made the wrong call that day.”

He folded the flag neatly, folding it small enough for him to be able to put it in his pocket. Then, he stood up and turned to Y/N. “Come on. Let’s start a fire.”

Quietly, the two of them assembled enough wood to ignite a small fire. Jack watched the flames, thinking about their faces. He hadn’t been able to figure out their names, they had no name tags on them. They remained nameless, but their faces would forever be with him.

Then, he pulled out the folded flag.

“Rest easy.”

Y/N watched him throw the flag into the flame, catching fire instantly. “Rest in peace. At last, it did arrive in Japan, too.”

Without another word, she took his hand as they watched the flag turn to dust. When it had gone, Jack finally looked up. Looked at Y/N. They had been to hell in their own ways. She in Europe, he in the Pacific. They had killed people in front of each other, they had killed for the other. They had come face to face with their darkest past in front of the other. She had followed him to his own personal hell.

“Why are you crying now?”

Was he- he was. He shook his head aggressively, really not wanting to cry right now and rubbed his tears away with the back of his hand.

“Nothing”, he said and cleared his throat, “Just. Thank you.”

She smiled. “Always.”

A/N: One more history lesson about the Pacific War, and the final stage of World War Two, which is often neglected by simply jumping to the result of the atomic bombs. It’s crazy to think none of the soldiers had an idea that they WOULDN’T be asked to invade Japan proper. From their testimonies it becomes clear: They were certain that this would have been a suicide mission. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, I ask for nothing but a little comment or something that stood out in the chapter! It really helps any creator out there, let me tell you! Also, I hope you enjoy the little story arc with Jack’s reckoning with his own past. First the Navy Cross, now the flag. The two reminders of his most severe mistake. 

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[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Previous Chapters (and Book 1) 

Chapter 13

From what the doctors said, Sousa would need to stay in the hospital for about a week – mostly for observation and wound dressing.

Jack had handed the file he had discovered in the cupboard to Peggy to look through whilst they were still at the hospital.

The file contained, as he had suspected, intel on all the members of the 107th, but it was more than that. It contained information on Peggy, too, and even Steve, who was listed as ‘possibly dead/missing’.

“They file inconsistently”, Peggy remarked, flipping through the pages, “If they list Steve as missing, they should’ve listed James Barnes as missing, too.” Unfortunately, this inconsistency in filing would remain a mystery none of them would crack during their lifetimes.

“Did you know HYDRA worked globally?”, Y/N asked, looking through some parts of the file herself.

“Yeah, I mean, Germanic territories and America does mean they work internationally”, Jack replied with a shrug.

“Thanks, Jack, that much was clear”, she snorted, “No, I mean actually globally. There are coordinates here that, if I’m not mistaken, would place it somewhere in the middle of absolutely nowhere in the Pacific Ocean where they’ve just established a base. I mean, actually globally.”

“The Pacific Ocean?”, Peggy asked, visibly confused. Whilst she spoke, Y/N looked up, searching for Jack’s face.

“How well do you know the Pacific Ocean?”

His face was absolutely stoic as he replied: “Well enough.”

“26’30 degrees north, 128’00 -“

“East?”

“Yeah”, Y/N looked up from the papers, “Why-“

“You don’t forget the location of hell”, he snorted cynically, but he said it with a frozen voice. “That’s on Okinawa.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was horrible enough that they were hunting HYDRA again, and now this?

“You’re telling me”, she said lowly, “that on one of the most heavily fortified American positions in the entire freaking pacific, HYDRA managed to open a base just a few months ago and no one noticed??”

“The entire island resembles a honeycomb. If they used the trench system to hide it, they might as well be invisible”, Jack replied surprisingly calmly.

“So now, what, HYDRA’s expanding into Asia? Cooperating with the Japanese that weren’t happy about the surrender?”, Sousa questioned, trying to make sense of this development.

Jack shrugged, leaning against the wall: “No clue. Can’t say we ever came across HYDRA when we were there, then again, I doubt they’d introduce themselves like that. I guess they share some similarities. Not least did the Japanese research a great deal on biological weapons and human enhancement.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow: “Like Mengele’s guys?”

He nodded: “I just think no one survived. But the documents were partially transferred to the US after the war. Other parts went to Russia. Who knows what happened with the rest.”

“Comforting.”

Y/N once again took notice by the visible separation between Jack and – well – the rest of them. Sousa, Carter and her, they had all served in the European theatre. They had all fought the Nazis, and Nazi sympathisers, on European soil. He, on the other hand, had made his experiences in war literally on the opposite side of the world, with a different enemy. They might as well have fought in two different wars altogether – the only thing that loosely tied it together was the term ‘Second World War’. But it really wasn’t ‘a war’. It was many wars, happening at the same time. And she had only begun to understand just how difficult that had to be for him – after all, whenever Sousa or Carter or she mentioned something about the Nazis, the others just understood. Because they had been there, because they had seen them. The only Japanese she had ever seen were those that were interned in the US camps during the war.

“How come I’ve never heard of these guys?”, Sousa asked, causing Y/N to look over.

“You think we’d want to accuse our new buddies against the Communist East of these sorts of crimes?”, Jack asked back, cynicism dripping from each word, “Unlike Germany, most of the leaders remain in place.”

“Right”, Y/N folded her hands, “Right. We need all the aerial photography from the area from the last six months. I suppose the US Army Air Forces would be the place for that.”

“No, not anymore, it’s the Air Force now. Got their own branch just a few weeks ago”, Jack specified, causing Y/N to roll her eyes at his nit-picking.

“Never mind, then the Air Force”, she huffed, “and I suppose we’ll have to reach out to the CIA now, too. I don’t really want to run into our own guys without them being briefed we’re there.”

“You’re not seriously planning on going there, right, Y/N?”, Sousa asked, “In case you haven’t noticed, the people you’re after are incredibly dangerous and tend to ask questions after they shoot!” He pointed at his bandages for proof.

Y/N simply shrugged: “What do you want to do, Sousa? If you have some sort of other branch of government you trust more than the SSR to handle this, and I can’t really say anything about the CIA yet, they’ve literally come into existence a few months ago, then by all means, give them a ring. But the last time I checked, the SSR’s main purpose was to hunt HYDRA, and this very much looks like it.”

She looked over to Peggy: “You understand, don’t you?”

Peggy looked at her sympathetically. Of course she did. But she also knew that she couldn’t abandon L.A. right now, because they still had to hunt down their Arena Club people connected to Frost, and with Sousa not on 100 percent, losing Peggy was out of the picture.

“Of course I do.”

Y/N felt an immense weight being placed upon her – though she knew that it was wrong. She wouldn’t be the one to suffer the most, she feared.

“You remember what I said before you went to Boston?”, Y/N asked silently without looking at Jack. “I intend to keep up my end of the bargain, now I need your word that you will keep up yours.”

……….

“Look, there’s a freaking difference between shadowing an individual on home soil and travelling across the globe to possibly take out a foreign installation!”, Jack almost yelled when they entered his hotel room, “Now, I’m not sayin’ we send no one, but this isn’t a one-man-show!”

“If we can verify what it is, we won’t have to infiltrate, Jack!”, Y/N shot back, “We just have to take it out. And sorry, but pulling the remote trigger of a bomb, I can manage that just fine.”

She waited for the next barrage of words to fly at her – another verbal explosion to go off. But though he looked like he was just about to start again, abruptly, he shut his mouth and turned away.

For the second time in under 24 hours, Thompson had defied all versions of his behaviour Y/N had prepared herself for.

“Nothing?”, Y/N asked, “You’re just giving me the silent treatment??”

“Look, put yourself in my shoes”, he said without turning around, “we’re freaking agents. First and foremost. And you can go through the list of all the people within the SSR, from West to East Coast, and tell me. Who’s the most qualified?” He turned around now, his face stern as if he had internally given himself a slap in the face to man-up: “Of all the men here, hardly a handful served in the Pacific. Harrow spent time on the Philippines, and two of Sousa’s guys in Guadalcanal. Last time I checked, I was the only one who’s been to Okinawa. Now take your pick. Agent Carter logic. That will be me.”

She looked at him in silence. He wasn’t wrong. She knew that. Still, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

‘You’re not thinking as an agent’, Y/N reminded herself, taking a single breath to focus. “You’re right, Agent Thompson. Actually, you are exactly right. Neither of us is thinking rationally right now. This is a mission on Okinawa, which means that you are on the ballot. And it most likely means dealing with HYDRA. Which means you still need someone who speaks German. Which means I am coming, too. And no, I don’t accept the entire ‘one man is safer’ or ‘you’ve done enough’ speech. Last time, God knows why, you volunteered to go on that island. And for some wicked reason, here we are and here you volunteer again. Well, I volunteer for you not to go in there alone. That ain’t happening.”

He was about to open his mouth to say something, probably a last attempt to dissuade her, but Y/N only raised a finger.

“Nah, don’t waste your breath, agent”, Y/N cut in, “Because I’m not listening.”

If anything, he looked pained at her resolve.

“It won’t be like 1945”, she said quietly, “and it won’t be like our mission in DC, either, where we wanted to retrieve that blueprint. If we can verify the nature and location of it, we will blow it to hell. And by God, given the amounts of shells and undetonated bombs still in the area, I doubt anyone will bet an eye.”

It wasn’t that he was afraid for her, or, for that matter, for himself. She wasn’t wrong – it wasn’t an extraction mission, not a rescue mission. If the base was HYDRA, they’d blow it up with everyone and anyone inside it. Carter might have wanted to choose a different route, one that was inherently more dangerous, but not him. And apparently, not Y/N, either. No, he wasn’t afraid because of that.

He hated the island. He hated it equally, though that was hard to fathom, as Iwo Jima. He hated the thought of seeing the ruins of Shuri Castle or the hills of all the damn Ridges – Tombstone, Kakazu, Cactus, and countless others. He hated the thought of that enough to want to throw up again, even though his headache had begun to lessen. How would he react once he was actually there again? And of all the people in the world, he really didn’t want her to see it, whilst simultaneously wanting no one else there in her stead.

It was a paradox he couldn’t get his head around.

“Yeah”, he said, not saying a word about what he had just thought about, “It’ll be a walk in the park.”

……….

Y/N wasn’t blind, she could tell from six miles away that every fibre in Jack’s being didn’t want to go there, even as he pushed his mind in the other direction – stubborn, and, though some might find that hard to believe, dutiful as he was.

They first had to fly back to New York, so on the plane there, Y/N decided to do most of the talking, if that was required.

“You know, as much as I hated being there, I saw some beautiful landscapes in southern Germany. The Alps are a sight to behold – though, I suppose, you could now visit them in less hostile territory in France or Switzerland. But they were amazing”, Y/N said, recounting the images of immensely tall mountains, whose tips were covered in snow and ice all year around. “

“Can’t say I can compete with that”, he said dryly, “Iwo Jima is a pile of smoking rock, and Okinawa is a single subtropical health hazard. Wanna know what my company’s first enemy was? Wasn’t a soldier. It was a snake. Apparently, they have venomous snakes on Okinawa.”

“Oh.”

“Good news, the bite can be lethal, but most often, it wasn’t. Had many who were still unable to fight after being bitten by one of those things. The locals called them Habu, I think.”

“Right”, Y/N nodded, “So I’ll stay six feet away from snakes. Other potential death traps, humans aside?”

“Possibly mosquitos, otherwise, not necessarily deadly. Giant crabs and a bunch of lizards”, he shrugged.

“So it’s basically like Australia minus the deadly spiders?”, she raised an eyebrow, “Wonderful location for the biggest landing force of humankind to wage a battle.”

He snorted at her sarcasm. “Yeah.”

Y/N pondered about what to say next, she just wanted the silence to not become piercing, and for him to get lost in his thoughts.

“So, Germans have their beer and their schnapps, what’s Japan got to offer? I feel like every country has some alcohol in store.”

“Call me biased, but Asian alcohol is strange”, he pulled a grimace, “rice wine, sake.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have been able to taste the difference about twenty hours ago”, she remarked dryly, receiving an elbow to the side, causing her to laugh.

“In all fairness”, she said with a grin, “I never warmed up to schnapps, either. Tasted like disinfectant to me. And the food, well. It was pretty bad towards the end of the war, shortages almost anywhere. But, I guess, it spared me the experience of Army rations.”

“Ours weren’t that bad. I mean, they were disgusting, but they were big enough for us not to starve”, Jack shrugged with a grin, “though I can’t say that spam is a real delicacy.”

“I bet”, Y/N laughed, “cold tinned pork mash doesn’t sound like a feast.”

He tilted his head: “I guess that was the one advantage of being stuck on Iwo Jima. We could bury the rations in the ground and the volcanic heat would warm them.”

She looked at him in disbelief: “Well, I guess you were at least inventive.”

“Had to be. Guess that helps now where we fight anything from kid assassins to hardcore Nazis.”

“You make us sound way cooler than the filing mess that we produce on an average day”, Y/N remarked with a grin, “But don’t say Sousa I said that. Otherwise, he’ll be pissed that I didn’t make the caveat that his filing is ‘impeccable’.”

…………….

Arguably, the only upside Jack could find right now was that they were headed to Okinawa in early December, which was both one of the coolest, as well as driest months possible. Though both of these things were relative – the weather was still warm, and rain was always possible. It wasn’t monsoon season though, unlike the last time he was stuck there, when their foxholes and trenches turned into a field of mud.

Whilst he was talking to the lab boys regarding the tech they would take with them, Y/N was collecting all the files they could potentially use regarding HYDRA, or Japanese bio experiments.

The phone rang, and Y/N didn’t even have the time to rattle down her usual greeting.

“Y/N, it’s Sousa.”

“Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”, Y/N asked, a bit taken aback.

“In a perfect world, probably.”

She noticed the tone in his voice, knowing something was seriously wrong.

“What’s happened?”

“Don’t repeat a word, just say yes and relay it to Thompson.”

“Yes.” She had a hunch where that was headed, being reminded of the Owens-debacle from not that long ago.

“We caught a lead out in Nevada that Keller’s been seen there”, he began, “so we sent a bunch of agents to track and arrest him. We sent four agents, now three are dead. And the fourth one and Keller have vanished.”

Y/N’s face froze. She knew what he was getting at. But she knew she had to control her reaction, so she didn’t say anything, she didn’t do anything.

“Y/N? You still there?”

“Yes, Daniel”, Y/N said calmly, “I understand. I understand exactly what you mean. I will let him know. I’ll call back when we’re back in the US.”

She ended the call and continued her filing. HYDRA, it would seem, wasn’t just not dead. HYDRA had infiltrated the SSR.

At this point, she felt little more than disillusionment. She had been willing to risk her life again and again for the SSR, and for everything they stood for – only to figure out that not only had a covert Soviet organisation infiltrated their ranks, no, so did HYDRA. And if that was the case for the SSR, then chances were, the other branches of the intelligence services had been infiltrated, too.

Looking up, Y/N clenched her teeth.

Right now, it didn’t matter. Mission One was to find, and destroy, that target on Okinawa. Mission Two was to find and kill Keller. And long-term Mission Three was to hunt down every last member of the Arena Club, where now, she didn’t care anymore that they didn’t have exact proof to pin on every one individually speaking. She now placed them under general suspicion without differentiation.

“You ready?”

Her eyes met Jack’s.

“Always.”

……….

Getting to Okinawa was an endeavour all by itself. First to L.A. to change, then to Hawaii to change, then to Guam to refuel and then to Okinawa. The flight from Hawaii onward was only the two of them, and a bunch of Armed Forces personnel headed into the occupied zone.

Y/N had decided to not bring up the issue of HYDRA within the SSR until they had finished Mission One. First, it didn’t affect their mission plan, and second, she didn’t feel like she was able to talk openly about it in the office, or on the plane. In both instances, there were too many potential listeners around them. And slipping over a note felt incredibly inappropriate given the gravity.

She could already see that once they had set foot on Guam, that Jack’s personality became more alert, more, well, more on-duty. Maybe it had been the familiar scents, the familiar scenery. The soldiers that were fairly visible everywhere. Maybe it was just the knowledge that soon, he’ll be back to the place he had never wanted to see again since getting the chance to leave it alive.

They landed in Naha in the early afternoon. It was like being thrown back into summer, having left the winter of New York far behind. It was a beautiful day, at least it was in theory. The war was still very visible in the city – airfield aside, and military bases aside, much of the area was still damaged, or under reconstruction. Even without knowing exactly what the battle had looked like, Y/N directly knew that they were standing on – essentially – a graveyard.

“You’re gonna be alright?”, Y/N asked when the two entered a vehicle they had been given by the military.

Jack’s eyes were fixed solely on the road: “Yeah. We have work to do.”

A/N: So sorry for the longer pause in between updates - the last weeks were a bit all over the place. However, I am incredibly happy to announce that I had VERY good reason for that: I have just been confirmed to have met all the necessary criteria to start my PhD this autumn. I am beyond excited! 

I am, as always, incredibly appreciative of all sort of feedback - comments, hearts, reblogs! They make all the effort worth it by a mile

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[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (Book 1 and previous chapters)

Chapter 12

“Y/N L/N, SSR, with whom am I speaking?”, Y/N picked up the phone at the office, having spent the entire day trying to occupy herself with some task to keep her mind off Jack and Daniel.

“Y/N?”

“Rose?”, Y/N asked, recognising the voice of the woman who had once worked here in New York before changing to Sousa’s office in L.A. “You sound terrible! Is something wrong?”

“Oh, Y/N, it’s awful!”

“What’s wrong?”, Y/N asked, feeling her blood freeze.

There was only one reason Rose would call her now. In that tone. Something must’ve happened.

….

“Mr. Thompson, we’re sorry, but at this moment, there’s nothing we can tell you!”, the nurse said, taking a step back from the furious man in front of her.

“What d’you mean you can’t??”, he fumed, “Then get a doctor on the line!”

“Sir, the doctors are busy doing surgery on your friend-“

“I get that, sweetheart, but what’s the prognosis??”, he interrupted harshly.

The lady threw her hands up in the air: “Sir, we don’t have one yet, he was wheeled in just minutes ago, but I can promise-“

“I don’t need promises, I need a doctor!”

“Sir”, a bunch of security guards came down the hallway, “It’s better you leave now. There’s nothing anyone can do for you here at this moment.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?”, Thompson cussed, stepping towards the guards, who probably assumed that he was about to lash out, so they grabbed his arms, turned them behind his back and shoved him outside the hospital.

“For your own good, kid”, the older guard hissed before shoving him out the door.

“Goddammit!”, Jack yelled into the void. Should he turn back? They’d probably call the cops if he did, SSR badge be damned. He couldn’t bear the thought of calling Peggy. He wanted to call Y/N, just to have her near. But he didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t the one injured, hell, he didn’t even get scratched. Why the hell was he always the one whose comrades took the bullet, the grenade? Why did he always get out alive, unscathed? He managed to pull himself together in the car to call the L.A. office to inform them, incredibly grateful that it was Rose who picked up, not Peggy. He could already see the brunette getting on the next plane to Boston. Probably, Stark could get her here faster than any other person in the United States, probably even faster than the president.

After the call, he felt absolutely empty. There was only guilt there. It was there with such intensity that he had only experienced once before – on Tsuken Island, when he had realised he had just killed six innocent boys. He gripped his steering wheel as tightly as possibly, mechanically driving back to their hotel. In hindsight, he was quite amazed he didn’t crash the car along the way. There was one way to make that feeling more bearable, he had done it a dozen times in the first months after the incident on Okinawa. It had become less frequent lately, perhaps because he almost managed to convince himself that he deserved happiness. But by God, today, he didn’t even believe he’d deserve a tomorrow. He just needed it to stop – that pain, that guilt, whatever means it took to get them to become muted.

……..

“He was what?”, Y/N asked Rose when she had landed in Boston.

“He said something about being kicked out of the hospital. He seemed very upset, Y/N.”

“I bet”, Y/N bit her lip, “any news from the hospital?” It was about four hours after the initial call, after which Y/N bribed anyone she could find at LaGuardia Airport to get on the next plane headed to Boston.

“He’s stable”, she said, causing Y/N to exhale. Stable didn’t mean much – a comatose person was, theoretically speaking, stable.

“And the surgery?”

“He lost a lot of blood”, Rose said quietly, “apparently he was hit multiple times.”

“But blood loss can be dealt with”, Y/N replied, hopeful that no worse news were imminent.

“They said he was lucky. Do you think that means he’ll pull through?”

“I mean, if they didn’t think he would, I doubt they’d say he’s lucky”, Y/N said grimly, “as by definition, otherwise he wouldn’t be lucky. When’s Peggy gonna land?”

“I think that’ll take another three hours or so.”

“Right, I’ll go talk to the people at the hospital”, Y/N said quietly, “and then I’ll search Jack.”

“I already instructed the hospital to increase security”, Rose said, “and if they have anything on Daniel, they call me right away. Y/N, go search your fiancé. I can handle the rest.”

Y/N sighed slowly: “You immediately call me if I can do something. Anything. You understand?”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Rose”, Y/N said before ending the call. She knew which hotel Daniel and Jack were staying in. She just hoped Jack didn’t go on some stupid suicide mission on his own.

…….

“Excuse me, I’m searching for the room Jack Thompson is staying in”, Y/N told the concierge, who looked at her rather confused – it was, probably, rather unusual to see a woman storm into the lobby, demanding to know what room a guest is staying in.

“Darling, we are prohibited to give out our guests’ room numbers to strangers”, the man informed her, adjusting his glasses whilst eyeing her.

Incredibly annoyed, Y/N waved her hand in front of his face: “He’s my fiancé, good sir, so you better hurry your ass or I will get the information myself by taking that book from you!”

“Milady-“

“Sir”, she shoved a fiver in his hands, “Like I said, you better hurry.”

A bit taken aback, he glanced down, consulting his book.

“That would be 241b”, he said.

“Thanks”, Y/N said, turning around.

“Won’t you need a key?”

“No, I can manage”, Y/N replied curtly without wasting another second talking to this very unhelpful man and dashing upstairs. Floor 2, room 241b. It was easy to find. She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. “Jack?” Nothing. One last time. “Thompson?!”

Was he out? Looking at the lock, she knew that it would be easy to open. Most hotel rooms were. It took her no time to make it spring open. She hadn’t even opened the door when she could smell the familiar scent of hard liqueur, probably whiskey, bourbon, or something in that realm.

‘Oh no.’

“Jack?”, she repeated, closing the door behind her.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fine.”

She had to walk through a narrow corridor to see the main part of the room, so at first, she only heard his voice, not seeing him. He sat on the desk, staring outside the window, bottle in his hand.

“Yeah”, Y/N said dryly, “You’re doing amazing. I can see that from miles away.”

She heard him huff. “I’m good.”

“You’re a godawful liar.”

He turned his head so that he could see her. And she could see him. It wasn’t in his genetics to look terrible. But for his standards, he looked abysmal. The best Y/N could describe it was as if he hadn’t seen a bed in a week. She didn’t have to see his eyes to know that he had been drinking, the smell and – well – the bottle beside him were proof of that already, but they were glazed over. It probably wasn’t just the alcohol, but the guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“Did you pull the trigger?”, Y/N asked, crossing her arms, “No? Well, then I suppose it wasn’t your fault.” Life was, of course, more nuanced than that – but she knew Jack better than anyone. She knew he didn’t act carelessly, or at least not more than was human, when other people’s lives were on the line. It had been an accident.

She walked closer, knowing full-well that there were no words in the English language – or in any language – to make this alright. She simply sat beside him, putting one arm around his shoulders whilst taking a hold of the – now identified – bottle of whiskey.

“Give me that.”

“Jack Thompson, most people would be at the hospital after this much”, Y/N declared, lifting it up to see how much of the liquid was gone, “and given the hospital staff isn’t your biggest fan, that’s probably not where you want to end up today.”

“Please.”

She winced at his tone. “No.” Y/N pressed her lips together: “It won’t help, not in the long run.”

“I don’t care about the long run right now.”

“Yeah, but I do”, Y/N replied silently, “I care a lot.”

“Why?”

“Why do I care?”, she asked confused, “Where should I start? How about that – you’re my best friend. Hell, you’re family. Why wouldn’t I care? After all, I love you.”

She should feel him shaking his head. “Then you’re real dumb.”

“No, I’m probably the only one in the room who’s currently judicious”, she replied.

“Why’d you come? You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh yeah?”, Y/N lifted up the well-used bottle of whiskey, “and then what? I’ll do anything for you, but I’m not gonna bury you.”

“Just everyone else.”

Y/N had heard enough. Enough guilt, enough self-loathing – at least for one day. “Jack Thompson”, Y/N turned around to face him, grabbing his chin so that he had no option but to look at her. She searched for his hollow eyes: “You listen to me. No one died today. Sousa’s one tough son of a bitch, so you don’t give up before he does. And tomorrow, when you’re actually a human being again, we will go see him. Alright? Everything is going to be alright. He agreed to come with you. And you didn’t pull that trigger. Now, you can tell me all you want that bullet was meant for you – tough luck. Things turned out different. We all make choices, and he made his. That’s not on you.”

“I triggered the booby-trap.”

“You can tell me the details another time, Jack. I don’t need to hear them now”, Y/N replied quietly, gently running her finger along his cheek, “Right now, all you need to know is that no one has died on your watch today. His surgeries were successful. He’s stable. And you.” She pointed to the bed behind them, “You should sleep now.” She felt deeply sorry, sorry for Sousa, who was injured, but she also felt sorry for Jack. Most of the time, he had the best of intentions in mind. Whether that was on Okinawa, when he wanted to protect his C.O. or whether it was here. But that didn’t matter to him when things turned out wrong. It didn’t lessen the guilt he carried. She pressed her lips together. There was nothing that she could do or say to lessen that, and that made her feel incredibly powerless.  

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

“You’ve asked me that already”, Y/N sighed, “the real question is, why did you think I wouldn’t be here? Why do you think you deserve to be alone?” She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t get one. “Because if it is for the reason of guilt, whether that is getting people killed during your time at the SSR, or from earlier, from the war, then by God’s name, don’t. Jack, you know my file. You know that all my team members died in 1944 or 1945. Most of them died because of me. Because I wasn’t there when they needed me most. You need to let it go, otherwise you’ll join them sooner than later. And then, no one gets saved. Because then, no one is here to continue the fight.” She paused. “People like us, we don’t get to quit. They need us to keep going, even if they never ever thank us. And I need you to keep going, because I cannot do this alone.”

She was pretty sure that he would have cried right then and there if he had tears left to cry.

“Come on”, she said, pushing herself off the desk and holding out her hand to him, not really trusting his sense of direction or ability to walk currently. And the last thing she wanted to do was patch up some wound from him falling over.

Visibly reluctantly, he took her hand and stood up.

“Easy there”, she said as she felt his weight slip away from her and pulling him back. It felt half-familiar. This was by no means the first time she saw him drunk – actually, she stopped counting approximately in their third week of their second semester at university, but still. This was way different. She had seen him in a great many states, but not like this. She hadn’t seen him shattered.

Y/N dropped him onto the bed, biting her lip.

He looked up to her: “What about you? You’re headed out?”

“By God’s name, no”, she said, sitting down next to him, “I’m not leaving you, you understand? You’re stuck with me.” As a matter of fact, she wasn’t sure if it was even safe to leave him. She had no idea when, and how quickly, he had worked on that whiskey. He was in a bad shape, for sure, but arguably, it could turn from bad to worse, and if it did, someone had to be there. And as so often, that someone had always been her.

To keep her mind occupied, she grabbed his hand and started to massage it. She had no idea for whom this was more soothing – but at least, he did fall asleep quite quickly.

She simply stared at his face. When she had come to Boston, she had prepared herself for a great many things. A furious Thompson. A short-fused Thompson. A frustrated Thompson. But nothing could’ve prepared her for this – a shattered Jack.

Yeah. It felt very different than the countless times she had stood in the bar, talking absent-mindedly to her girlfriends from university, just to keep an eye on him during his attempts to finally become the high-score holder for the Piccadilly Commando ranking.

“How did your feedback turn out? Professor Morton really didn’t like my writing style, can you believe it?”

Y/N’s eyes were fixed on something completely different when Lara had asked her about her latest essay.

“Uh… no, he was quite happy with mine, I think”, she responded with a two-second delay, “Would’ve liked more depth, which is difficult considering I was already at the absolute maximum of the word count.”

Lara had followed her gaze. “Oh, is it Commando night again?”

“When isn’t it Commando night?”, Y/N muttered with mild annoyance, “Damn Nick for bringing that atrocity over from the UK.”

“Come on, the Englishman is charming!”

“You think?”, Y/N raised an eyebrow at Lara, who laughed. Y/N found Nick to be a great many things – loud, posh, and self-assured, but charming wouldn’t even make her top 20 adjectives to describe the man.

“Well, I’m not gonna go after Jack, if you know what I’m saying.”

Y/N shot her a deadpan look: “No, Lara, as a matter of fact, I don’t. We’re friends. Not more, not less. So if you wanna give it a shot, by all means. But let me warn you. He’s a handful when he’s tired, drunk or hungry.” ‘How often do I have to explain that to her?’, Y/N thought, ‘Jack and I are friends. Friends-Friends, with no add-on.’

Y/N and Lara were now both facing the table where the group of men were playing that weird card game Y/N never bothered to understand, and which had the main purpose of getting its participants absolutely shitfaced. Jack and Nick aside, it was a group of eight, including a member of the university’s baseball team, Kenneth Brown. Y/N had always found him incredibly importunate. A roaming sound came from the group, and Y/N saw Nick look from Jack to Kenneth in somewhat disoriented anticipation. The mood had shifted quickly from competitive and happy, to, well, tense.

Y/N exhaled: “Why can’t he pick the freaking math kid to piss off at least once in his life?” Hearing Lara chuckle in the back, she had already begun to manoeuvre her way through the hall of drunken people to the desk where Kenneth took a swing at Jack, hitting him in the jaw, only to be hit in the nose himself. The two men stood up, ready to exchange further blows, just as Y/N had reached them.

“Kenneth”, she said with a forced smile, “I’ll proof-read your work for Professor Smith for next week if you let it go.”

“Y/N, don’t-“

“You shut up”, Y/N turned to Jack in annoyance, before turning back to Kenneth: “Deal?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He took off with a grin that made her want to throw up, but she was too busy being annoyed at the man behind her to get offended by the man in front of her.

“That’s number four”, she said, “In two months, four!” She turned to Nick: “Your game’s over for today?”

The Brit only nodded, still somewhat startled at the scene – which actually surprised her, given this happened almost every time they played this stupid game.

“Brilliant.” She grabbed Jack’s arm, only to realise the other one had somehow gotten a hold of the bottle of whiskey the men had shared at the table before she arrived. “You’re kidding me, right?”

He lazily grinned and took a swig. She was SO close to grabbing the bottle and throwing it right across the hall, but she didn’t want to cause a bigger scene than it already was, considering she was basically dragging him outside. And it was a dragging, indeed.

“No, wrong direction”, she grunted when he was about to stumble into the opposite direction from his place.

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah right.” It came out a lot harsher than she had intended, but she supposed that that’s what happened when she was very annoyed.

“You angry?”

“No, I love dragging you out of bars”, she retorted cynically, watching him take another swig from the bottle. “Don’t you think you’ve had your share for the night?” She grabbed the bottle and wrestled with him for it, but winning against a drunk guy wasn’t that hard.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

The walk to his place was about 15 minutes, give or take. Maybe closer to 20 under these circumstances, and Y/N was freezing, but that didn’t concern her that much. What was more concerning was the eventual silence between them. The Thompson-scale-of-drunk was rather predictable, it went you-don’t-even-know-he-drank/he-makes-blunt-remarks/he-gets-irritable-and-vocal/disorientation-and-vocal-slurring/silence. Stage two was the best, stage silence was what happened on the days he went too far, even for his rather impressive limits.

“Keys”, she announced when they had reached the door and took them out of his hand, not wanting to spend three minutes next to him trying to get the key inside the keyhole. She stepped inside, turning on the light.

Behind her, Jack leaned his forehead against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N stood there, contemplating to leave right now and leave him to his own devices. Her thought process was cut short by him gagging.

“Yeah”, she couldn’t help but to remark cynically whilst guiding him into the bathroom, “you’re fantastic.”

After making sure he wouldn’t hit his head anywhere or fall over, she left him in the bathroom and waited outside. That didn’t happen as often as the bar fights. As a matter of fact, this only happened four times in their entire time at university. And by all the annoyance that she had felt when she had interrupted him and Kenneth 45 minutes earlier, she now felt none of it anymore. Whether it was just the fact that he was her friend, or whether even at that time, she had felt more than that, she can’t remember in hindsight. But she didn’t leave in these nights, either.

………

Y/N had eventually dosed off for a few hours. That was cut short eventually when Jack woke up and made his way to the bathroom. Given he was able to make it there himself, Y/N decided that her assistance was probably not needed for him ridding himself of some of the scotch. There was nothing she could do to avoid hearing him gag, but hell. She had seen and heard worse.

She checked her watch – shortly after 7. Theoretically, a good time for breakfast, though she wasn’t sure if eating was such a good idea.

Unsurprisingly, Jack didn’t look particularly fresh this morning. And perhaps a shade paler.

Normally, now would have been the time for Y/N to make some sarcastic remark, but she decided against it for many reasons. First, the situation really didn’t merit sarcasm. After all, they still had no idea how Sousa was fairing, exactly. And also, she wasn’t quite sure if he’d react well to sarcasm right now.

“How’r you feeling?”, she simply asked, knowing at least part of the answer in advance.

“Like shit.” Well, at least he was honest.

He rubbed his temples, though that only offered temporary relief.

“Right”, Y/N said, “You take a shower and shave. I’ll grab us coffee.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, after handing out the instructions, she simply marched out the room. She got coffee from the bar in the lobby, and with paying double, she even got them to agree that she could take it to the room. When she didn’t hear any water from the shower upon return, she assumed that he was finished. Still, she knocked as a warning before entering again. He, indeed, had showered and had nearly finished shaving, too. She lifted up the coffee cups whilst walking past him as to signal that she had delivered on her promise.

“Milk, no sugar, just as always. Comes with perks, given that you’ve made me brew your coffee for months.” There it was – just a little sprinkle of sarcasm.

A few moments later, he emerged from the bathroom and Y/N handed him his coffee.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He sounded so earnest that Y/N was quite sure that he didn’t just say thank you for the cup of coffee.

She gave him a smile: “Always.”

For a while, they sat there and drank their coffee in silence, both of them lost in their own storm of thoughts.

“You were right, by the way”, he then announced quietly without looking up from his cup, “He’s HYDRA. That was the file I got out of the cupboard. The one that was booby-trapped. He had a file in there with all the details on the 107th. Personal background, family. Current presumed whereabouts.” He pressed his lips together: “I didn’t look at it thoroughly yet, though.”

Y/N didn’t really know how she felt about that development. Naturally, it was upsetting knowing that the group was still around – right under their noses. But they had defeated worse. They had won a war. They would win against this, too.

“We’ll track him down. Presumably, he’ll try to evade the police, now that he knows we’re onto him”, Y/N said silently, “I informed the SSR before coming here to mobilise all resources to find him. And that, we will. And we won’t put him in a cell. We’ll kill him. That’s the only way you can kill a hydra.”

Now, Jack looked up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you.”

She raised her eyebrows: “What?” She almost laughed: “This was supposed to be a surveillance operation, not an instant kill. We didn’t even know what he was if it hadn’t been for you and Sousa. Don’t be silly. We don’t kill before we know we’re dealing with a hostile person. Now we do, and now we’ll find him, and then, we’ll kill him. Don’t worry about me. Whatever my role will be, I’ll be able to handle it.”

“I know.”

“See?”, Y/N smiled, “Then you don’t need to say you’re sorry. I’ve heard that way too much in the last 12 hours.”

She checked her watch again. Shortly before eight. “Right”, she said, “I’ll call the hospital. I suppose it’s better if they hear a fresh voice. And then, we make a trip downtown. And I’m driving.”

……….

Once Y/N had parked the car outside the hospital, she looked over to her companion. “You’re ready?”

“Course.”

When they entered the hospital, some guards directly swarmed them. “Sir, I think we were clear-“

“I vouch for him”, Y/N sighed, shoving them five dollars, “He won’t lash out. Promise.” She wasn’t sure if it was her good words, or her money that did it, but they eventually let them pass.

“I think I’ve bribed like a dozen people since getting to LaGuardia”, Y/N commented sarcastically, making her way to the desk further in the back. “We’re here for Daniel Sousa. Was admitted yesterday. We’re colleagues.” She searched for her batch: “SSR.”

The poor lady seemed a bit overwhelmed by two federal agents standing in front of her, so she hastily consulted her book.

“Room 452, but someone’s already there to see him!”

“Yeah, that’s his wife”, Y/N said, already walking past the lady, “and also our colleague.”

Finding room 452 took a few minutes given the sheer size of the hospital, but it wasn’t difficult. The signing was quite decent.

“There we are”, Y/N pointed to the door with the correct number on it. Again, she looked at her companion. She didn’t need to repeat her question, he only nodded. When they approached the door, they heard someone talking, but it was muffled enough for them to be unable to identify it. Y/N just hoped that it was two people. Actually, for the first time in a long time – probably since L.A. and the last shooting incidence – she understood the necessity of the Stossgebet. A term she had come across by some devout Germans in the heat of battle, when they sent a very specific, dedicated and urgent prayer.

But she didn’t give herself the time to pray. She knocked. “It’s Y/N and Jack. Can we come in?”

The door was unlocked, so she opened it. The sense of dread that she felt when opening the door was washed away by a sense of utter and unparalleled relief when she was greeted by a conscious Sousa and a waving Peggy. They both looked battered – which was to be expected, but they were awake. He was alive.

“Thank the Lord.” Y/N didn���t know what else to say – she was just happy that no funeral was on the cards.

The door behind them fell shut, and when Jack didn’t say anything, Sousa was the one to crack a smile.

“If it weren’t for the tubes sticking out of my arms, I’d say you look worse than me, Jack.”

“Sousa, I don’t think you understand how grateful I am to be insulted right now.”

Y/N motioned to Peggy to follow her outside and the brunette followed her without a strange look.

“How is he?”, Y/N asked in the hallway.

“He was incredibly lucky, no vital organs were severely hit. I’m sure it’ll hurt like hell, but he’ll pull through”, she said, looking over her shoulder with a tired smile. “How’s Jack?”

“He’s… fine”, Y/N said, stressing the ‘fine’ with dripping sarcasm, “probably almost admitted himself to the hospital because of alcohol poisoning, but I fear the staff wouldn’t have treated him after he’s kicked out for threatening a nurse.”

“Ah”, Peggy remarked dryly, “so he’s fine.”

“It was a long night for all of us”, Y/N replied flatly, “I’m just glad that we’ll be able to laugh about it at some point.”

Peggy grabbed her shoulder, looking her directly into the eyes: “Do you know how many people died on my watch? My roommate, Krzeminski, Juniper, I almost got Ana and Dr. Wilkes killed, and I could expand this list indefinitely given all the innocent people that died because of Fennhoff. He shouldn’t take it that personally.”

“That’s rich of you to say, Peg”, Y/N responded with a dry smile, “Because last time I checked, you do the exact same thing. Granted, you don’t drown yourself in it. At least not with alcohol.”

“Doesn’t mean others should do it, too.”

Y/N shot her a look that said ‘are you freaking serious?’, which resulted in both of them laughing. They were tied together, both as colleagues who understood the dangers of their work, who knew that these risks were necessary and sometimes unavoidable, but also as wife and fiancée, who were connected to this on a level that went beyond work-friends. They understood each other better than perhaps anyone else ever could.

“Will he be alright?”

Y/N looked at her, rather perplexed by her question. “Yeah. He came back from war and was alright. Different, but alright. He’ll be alright.”

………

“You took those bullets for me, Sousa”, Jack said, pressing his lips into a fine line, when Peggy and Y/N had left the room.

“Hey, you did say to cover you, in all fairness”, Sousa said jokingly. Jack shot him a glance.

“Next time, don’t take me literally.”

“Yeah?”, Daniel raised his eyebrows, “Why’s that? I thought we were going in there as a team. And I’m pretty sure that’s how soldiers do it. They cover each other. With everything they have.”

He wasn’t wrong. But that almost annoyed Jack more.

“You know”, he said dryly, “the bag I took with me here, well, that was the bag that I travelled back home with after I was discharged.” He reached into his jacket’s pocket and fished a little pouch out of there.

“I have no use for it, you know”, he said without explaining what it was, “You took those bullets for me. I know soldiers don’t usually get medals from the Naval Branch, but you’re still the better person to have it than me.”

He placed it on the bedside table. It was his Navy Cross – he hadn’t even bothered to ever take it out of his bag. That’s why it had made its way from New York to Boston with him.

“Are you serious, Jack?”, Daniel asked in disbelief, “You can’t just give away your freaking medal-“

“Like hell I can”, Jack huffed, “Did you ever see me wear that thing? Sousa, I did nothing that merits such a freaking medal. Nothing. And if you’d still be in active service and those guys had any sense, you would’ve had your medal ages ago. You can also sell it if you want. I’m not gonna miss it.”

Daniel, who still hadn’t heard the truth about Tsuken Island, looked at the Navy Cross intently.

“Why’d you even join the freaking Marines?”, he asked, inspecting it.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe because I wanted to serve my country. Maybe because I wanted the bragging rights of not being just a measly soldier. Maybe to impress a girl.”

Daniel shot him a deadpan look: “You didn’t end up on Iwo Jima just to impress Y/N, did you?”

“I had no idea where our ship was headed”, Jack shrugged, “and even if they’d told me, I didn’t know where Iwo Jima was until they told us to take it.”

The door opened again and Y/N and Peggy came back in.

Y/N directly noticed Daniel holding a medal.

“Is that your Navy Cross, Jack?”, Y/N asked confused.

“No, it’s Daniel’s Navy Cross”, Jack replied, winking at the man attached to the tubes.

“I believe this is a terrible idea”, Daniel said, putting it back in the pouch, “You got this for a reason, you know? They shipped you to Iwo Jima and Okinawa.”

“No, they actually only shipped me to Iwo Jima”, Jack specified, “I volunteered for Okinawa.”

“Why, for the bragging rights??”, Daniel asked, starting to doubt Jack’s judgement.

“No”, Jack grinned slightly, “But they needed volunteers from the Marines. Figured I was already done for, so I might as well get into the fight one more time.”

“What the hell”, Y/N exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, “Why does everyone inside these walls seem to have a freaking death wish?? Peggy, who fails to see that she saved about a million people more than she couldn’t save! Daniel, who first almost gets sucked into the freaking vortex of Stark’s creation and now is a human bullet shield! And Jack freaking Thompson who volunteers for another amphibious assault because why not?? Am I the only one here who’s a responsible adult who wants to preserve my life, along with everyone else’s??” She huffed: “You are all unbelievable. Either unbelievably brave or unbelievably stupid, and quite possibly, both at the same time!”

Her rant had caused everyone to laugh, so after her initial anger and frustration subsided, she couldn’t help but to laugh, too. Especially because she knew, in her heart – she wasn’t that different.

“Yes, because attacking Dottie Underwood with a butter knife is so life-preserving”, Jack reminded her with a tired grin.

“If it had been a butter knife, yes, that would’ve been stupid. But it was a knife-knife”, she shot back, knowing that this didn’t make it that much less suicidal.

Apparently, they were all scarred enough by loss to repeatedly put their life on the line, causing more hurt to those around them than they probably could have anticipated.

But that was what dedication looked like. That was what love looked like.

A/N: Sorry for the two week unannounced hiatus, I went on vacation back home! Which meant I fled London’s 40 degree celsius hell, exchanging it for the beautiful Alps. But, as reparation, it’s a pretty long chapter. And, I found it when writing, a heart-wrenching one at that. Very little action per se, but a lot of feelings, which is always nice (I hope!!). Feedback, comments, reblogs and likes are all INCREDIBLY appreciated! 

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Jack Thompson X Reader

What Lies Before Us

Masterlist (book 1 and previous chapters)

Chapter 11

“Thompson, how can I help?”

“Ma?”

“Jack?”, he could practically see the surprise in her face, “Why are you calling me with an English number? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good”, he said quickly to make her stop worrying, “We, uh, we had a friend’s wedding here.”

“We?”

“They were work-friends”, he specified, “Y/N’s here, too.”

“Alright?”, despite being half-way across the globe, Jack could see his mother’s inquisitive gaze upon him, “Is this about what I had asked your father to give to you?”

“She-“

“Jack?”, his mother inquired, “Don’t you lie to me, you know I can’t stand that! She’s more than a work-friend, isn’t she?”

“If you let me talk, Ma, you’ll nothing but the truth”, he said with a grin given his mother’s impatience.

“Go on, then.”

“I never said that she was just a work-friend. I said that she was my co-worker, and that’s actually factual”, he put forward, just to get the record straight and to tell his mother that, in fact, he didn’t lie to her, “and, well, your ring now has a new owner.”

“Jack, son!”, she exclaimed, “Congratulations!”

Shifting on the spot, still not sure how to respond to these kinds of things, he just replied with: “Thanks, ma.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it, I better hope you did it properly!”

“You can ask her if she found it appropriate”, he replied with a smile.

He heard his mother laugh: “You bet I will! Oh, dear, I will have to call your father right away. And Gam-Gam. She’ll be over the moon! Though it is unfortunate that your godfather can’t bear witness to this.”

The mention of Vernon almost made him choke. Even the thought of him being at their wedding – he was quite certain that Y/N would’ve left him standing alone by the altar to not spend time in the same building as that man.

“Yes, it is”, he replied hollowly, “Sorry, ma, I gotta go now. Duty calls. I’ll call when we’re in New York, alright?”

“Call?”, she asked, “You better come visit!” After ending the call, Jack couldn’t help but grin at the situation he found himself in. For once, it felt like it all fell together. Like things were finally taking a turn for the better. Like he had finally found the light at the end of the tunnel.

…….

Their return to New York was fairly unspectacular, which both of them were more than grateful for.

“Thank God I didn’t tell ma when our plane landed”, Jack said whilst retrieving their bags, “she probably would’ve ambushed right here and now to ask you if I proposed properly enough.”

“How does one propose properly?”, Y/N asked, eyebrows raised.

He only shrugged: “I dunno. Should’ve asked Sousa, I’m sure he did it with much more falderal than me.”

“To be fair, you did choose the busiest park of the entire country to do it”, Y/N retorted, “that I would classify as quite the fuss.”

“Our lives don’t really give me that many opportunities, don’t they? Wouldn’t have been exactly fitting after DC, either, right? ‘Hey, we’ve just killed a bunch of people together, you want to marry me?’ didn’t seem like a classy option.”

Y/N snorted at the idea. “Yeah, well. I guess you’re right.” She smiled: “No, really. Don’t know what your mother would’ve wanted, but it was perfect. I haven’t really imagined how it could be, but I couldn’t have come up with anything better.”

They stopped over at Y/N’s apartment to drop their bags before heading to the SSR to relieve McKinley. Whilst Y/N went to the post box to which Lorenzo could’ve posted something during her absence.

“Chief”, his deputy exclaimed when he saw Thompson, “we’ve got some news on the Arena Club. We’ve tracked down their donations – unlike other millionaires, they seem to only pick one candidate to support. We’ve collected the names of those that have received substantial funds.” He handed him the file.

“Thanks, McKinley”, Thompson began to flip through the pages, recognising some, but not all of the names listed, which was to be expected. Some were established politicians, others complete newcomers.

Whilst he was going through the files, the office door opened again and Y/N entered. Though he only looked briefly, he could tell that she had found something.

Y/N had indeed found something – but she wasn’t really sure what to make of it. A picture of a group of men, most of which she could identify as members of the Arena Club, though some were faces she hadn’t seen before as having been members.

She looked at each and everyone of the men on the picture. But nothing appeared to be an obvious red flag.

She brought the picture to Thompson’s desk: “Do you know anyone on there that should ring a bell?”

He looked over the picture: “Arena Club, that’s for sure.”

“That’s as far as I got”, she sighed, picking the photograph up, accidentally flipping it in the process. On the back, a faint number was written, in the right-hand corner, rather inconspicuously looking.

But when she read the number, her heart sank. She recognised it to be Lorenzo’s handwriting. It was a hint.

“88”, she said quietly, looking up at Thompson. Her eyes were darkened, cold, even.

“88?”, he asked, “Serial number, maybe?”

“No, it’s, well, it’s a shorthand.” She pressed her lips together: “Refers to the 8th letter in the alphabet. H-H, or the initials of the Nazi salute. Or HYDRA’s.” Despite having had to say the salute herself many times, she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud now, on American soil.

“You think we’re dealing with a sleeper Nazi in the Arena Club?”, Jack asked, taking another look at the picture.

Y/N shrugged: “Many industrialists came over after the war. Theoretically, ideal Arena Club material. Rich, white, arrogant, and ruthless.”

“But HYDRA was destroyed by the SSR”, Jack frowned, “And the Howling Commandos.”

Y/N paced around in the room: “Do you really believe that? That they got every last one of them, I mean. Call me crazy, but I don’t. Hell, we didn’t even succeed in securing high-profile Nazis such as Mengele. Why would we have done such a more thorough job with HYDRA?”

She pondered about what this would entail. And why in God’s name the Arena Club would team up with a Nazi. But then, she remembered something. If there is one thing Nazis and Westerners could agree on, it was their hate for Communism. Maybe that’s what brought them together – a common enemy. Maybe, HYDRA had something the Arena Club wanted for their plans within America.

“I’ll contact the Office of Immigration”, Jack interrupted her thoughts, “If a German immigrant made it into the Arena Club, he must be loaded. Must cut down the possible candidates.”

“I’ll call L.A.”, Y/N sighed, “Peggy would kill us if she knew we didn’t inform her about a possible HYDRA re-emergence.”

……..

Y/N had seen Peggy distraught in the past, but she hadn’t heard her like this – granted, she was rather personally involved with the entire taking-down-HYDRA-operation. The thought of the parasite still festering must have stung. Y/N didn’t fault her for reacting rather explosively. But Peggy wasn’t alone in her hurt – though Y/N hadn’t been tasked with going after HYDRA, she was ordered to take down military targets mostly, the thought of there still being a threat in the form of Nazis was a blow to her morale, too. She had spent years of her life fighting them, and now, multiple years after VE-day, it should still continue?

She felt that it was more likely that the man in question was affiliated with HYDRA than the regular party for a multitude of reasons – first, there was the matter of obscurity around that organisation that made it more likely for someone to slip through the system of the Americans. Second, it would fit the profile of the members of the Arena Club just about right – after all, their interest in new types of weaponry wasn’t that far off Jones’s interest, as well as Frost’s. But most importantly, there was that blueprint that they had stored away in DC – the one that the communists wanted to steal. Jack and Y/N had wondered what they wanted with it – because, even if they wanted to assassinate someone, no one needs such an intricate bomb for that. However, if they were working with – or even worse, for – HYDRA, obviously these weapons became more significant.

It took Jack way too long for his own taste to get a hold of someone in the Office of Immigration to get a lead regarding their mystery man. It seemed like, with all the chaos in the SSR filing system, they were still ahead of most other government facilities. That fact made him more concerned than proud, though, as he knew their filing was still a mess.

However, eventually he got a name. Richard Keller, who was the head of a mining company in Austria.

There wasn’t much on him in the records they had, his job and approximate wealth aside. And, naturally, that he was once affiliated with the Nazi Party – then again, what industrialist during the 1940s wasn’t?

All in all, it meant they had nothing but a name.

He knew he should inform both Peggy and Y/N, but given that Y/N didn’t recognise the man on the picture of the Arena Club members – where, as he now figured out, he was actually visible – he took it that she hadn’t known of him. And from what Y/N had told him, Peggy’s reaction on the phone didn’t speak to the effect of her knowing many wealthy German – or Austrian – business men, either. So why didn’t he? Possibly because he knew that the next course of action was to send someone to get intel on the guy. And both of them would’ve volunteered. He was aware of their records, of their strengths. But he had worked with Carter enough to know that as brilliant as she was, often, things went sideways, still. Roxxon Refinery blew up. The truck with the explosives she hijacked blew up. The Zero Matter blew up. Underwood escaped. Ana Jarvis was shot. None of these were directly her mistakes, but it was, in a sense, her actions that enabled the chain to unfurl. And in this case, where the stakes were so high, the mafia, the high-society of politics and quite possibly some remnant of HYDRA were involved, he really didn’t want to know what ‘sideways’ looked like.

And Y/N?

Well. He had seen her face when she realised what the number on the photo meant. He really didn’t want her to do it.

“Sousa.”

“You have a habit to call at the least convenient times, Thompson.”

“Why, I try not to hit your private hours where you could be doing God-knows-what with Carter”, Jack shot back sarcastically.

“You seem to be in a terrific mood. What’s up?”, Daniel asked, noticing the rather tense tone from his NYC counterpart.

“That German guy, in the Arena Club. Peggy tell you about that?”

“Yeah, HYDRA, possibly, correct?”

“Yeah”, Thompson rubbed his chin, “that’s what we’re still to figure out. Came here in 46. Got his file pulled from the Office of Immigration, but not much in it. Except that he’s the head of some mining company. And apparently, he’s Austrian, not German. Seems to be the trade mark of top Nazis.”

“Do we know where he lives now? Then we could send a team to shadow him.”

“That’s what I’m calling for”, Thompson pressed his lips together before continuing, “I do have an address. Lives in Boston.”

For a while, Daniel didn’t say anything. “And why are you calling me, exactly?”

“Because”, Jack flicked his hand in annoyance – annoyance that apparently Daniel couldn’t read his thoughts through the phone line, “you tell me. Should I send Peggy to do it? Or Y/N? On paper, they might be the most qualified, but they’re also both incredibly personally attached to this.”

“You feel like they’re not going to be objective?”, Daniel asked, rather surprised.

“No, that’s not it.” Jack sighed: “I just think that if they figure it is HYDRA, they wouldn’t care to call for backup, or wait for someone else to lend them a hand, no, they’d just kick down the door to take that shot. Even if there’s a live grenade behind that door.”

Daniel huffed silently: “Why’d you think that?”

“I’ve seen them both in action, Sousa. Hell, Y/N charged Underwood with a freaking knife. Wouldn’t really want her doing that with some guy we hardly have a read on!”, Jack replied curtly, “and I know how I’d react if it weren’t Nazis, but some Japs. I’m like the only one in this office who’s got no past experience with them, so I’m planning on doing it myself.”

“You’re an idiot, Thompson, you don’t even speak or read the language.”

“Goldberg speaks German, guess I’ll bring him along.”

“He’s been in the field how many times?”, Daniel asked rhetorically, knowing the answer was about zero, given he was their best analyst.

“Do you want Carter to take the mission?”, Jack asked back harshly, tapping his fingers as he waited for a response. “Sousa?”

“No, theoretically not.”

“And practically??”

“Practically”, Sousa himself was now audibly becoming frustrated, “It’s dumb for you to go in there with some rookie. I speak the language, I come with you.”

“Sousa, we can’t put two SSR Chiefs on a mission! What if we die?”

“We just won’t die”, Sousa replied with a huff, “As simple as that.”

“Brilliant plan. Why didn’t MacArthur think of that in 1945?”

“You got a better one?”

Thompson didn’t say anything. He didn’t, but he also didn’t like the idea of going in there with Sousa. Though he knew that the L.A. Chief was more than capable – he had seen that first-hand when they took down Johann Fennhoff. Or, well, Sousa did. As he was taken down by the man, himself.

“No. Unfortunately, not.”

“We will have to tell them, though. I’m not gonna lie to my wife.”

His initial reaction was to vehemently object – like hell Carter would let them do this if she knew what they were up to! But the thought of lying to Y/N didn’t really sit well with him, either.

“Do you think they’ll just stay behind brewing coffee?”, Thompson asked sarcastically.

“I dunno. Guess I see it as a two-way street – I’d trust her to do a mission herself, too. It’s only fair she trusts me, too.”

Thompson pressed his lips together, rubbing the bridge of his nose. That will be a talk he was not looking forward to. “Alright, Sousa. We’ll meet in Boston.”

…..

Y/N stood across from Jack in his living room, arms crossed.

“Say something”, he said when her only response to his plan was silence, a stern look, and crossing her arms. “Anything. Yell, if you want to.”

“I don’t want to yell at you, Jack”, she eventually said, sitting down on the sofa, staring at the floor in front of her. “I just don’t want you to go there with Sousa. You know I could be of use.”

“Yeah, you could probably do the entire surveillance yourself”, he agreed quietly, awkwardly still standing in front of her, “but I don’t want you… I don’t want you to go through this again.”

She clenched her jaw. She knew it was already massive progress that he didn’t just take off, did it without saying something before – like he had done with Masters – or lying to her. Though that didn’t make her happier with his decision. Even if it was made out of love.

“If it were you… if it were the Japanese”, she said quietly, “then I would want to do the same. You do well to remember that if it ever comes to it, Jack Thompson.” She stood up, standing right in front of him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He was dead-serious.

“Well then”, Y/N gave him a quick peck on the lips, “You better be careful, Jack. I don’t want to become a widow before getting married.”

………….

Thompson sat behind the steering wheel, parked on the side of a sideroad, whilst Sousa tried to get a clearer picture of the huge building that they identified to be Keller’s. They had observed the building for multiple days in a row now, getting a clearer picture of who lived in it. Keller aside, it was just a housemaid that would show up occasionally, Monday and Friday. They had followed her car to call her agency to confirm that, under the cover of being police chiefs tracking down a speeding offense. Keller didn’t spend much time in his gigantic house during the week, mostly leaving before nine, and returning after six. He’d drive downtown to an office building that was rented under the name of Mortimer Hayes, though it had belonged to Hugh Jones until just some weeks ago. In the public records, it didn’t say much about the purpose of the building, and by seeing through the windows, they didn’t figure out much. Only that even during the night, once Keller had left, there were people roaming about. Mostly, in some sort of overcoats, similar to lab coats.

“He’s leaving now”, Sousa commented, “if we want to have a look inside, we should get moving.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t have Stark’s surveillance outfit”, Jack remarked whilst turning on the engine and reviving the coupler, “otherwise we either get a bullet in the brain or a flamingo after our asses.”

Sousa huffed: “Neither particularly inviting.”

They abandoned the car behind some bushes just up the road from the house. The rest of the way, they walked. They approached the house from the side, starting by looking through the windows. They could see the different rooms on the ground floor – a kitchen that looked like it had never been used, a living room that didn’t look particularly lived in, all in all, a rather over-neatly kept house.

“Doesn’t scream high-profile Nazi”, Sousa muttered, but Thompson was already fiddling with one of the doors to get inside.

“I doubt he’d have it on a poster, Sousa”, he remarked whilst working on the lock, “Step back. In case there’s some booby-trap.”

The lock sprung open – he cautiously opened the door, waiting for an alarm, fire – something. But they were greeted with nothing but silence. He looked over his shoulder, at Sousa. The two nodded. Guns drawn, they slowly entered the building.

Thompson was the first to head upstairs. Bedroom and bathroom to the left, office to the right. So he turned right. The office was, arguably, the only room that looked actually used. There was a large desk at the room’s centre, two large bookshelves at the walls, and some sort of cupboard next to one of the shelves. It had a lock.

He first skimmed some of the documents that were stored in the bookshelves.

“Hot damn”, he whispered, seeing its contents. He was no scientists, and as a matter of fact, had found chemistry one of the tougher subjects to get a hold on, so the equations on the papers meant rather little to him. The insignia on them was what caught his eye. An eagle, and not just an eagle. The eagle of the Third Reich. Which could’ve just been the documents produced during the war, which possibly were still of use given their scientific contents, but the dates didn’t match. Some of them were dated for September 1945. Months after the war had ended – months after the eagle was no longer in use.

He turned to the locked closet.

“Imma open it”, he whispered to Sousa, “you cover me.” He fiddled with the lock, and it took a good minute until the mechanism gave in. Inside, there was a single folder. He had hoped that possibly, it just said HYDRA on it and they’d know for certain what they were dealing with, but it was an unnamed file.

He took it out, flicking it open – and couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the h-“

“Get down!”

……..

Those words – they had haunted him since 1945. ‘Get down’ is what his buddies had yelled every time there was a machine gun attack commencing, or mortar fire incoming, or grenades flying in their direction. ‘Get down’ is a shorthand for ‘pray you’ll still breathe in five seconds’ time’. ‘Get down’ mostly meant that for some substantial part of your group, it would be the last moment they were alive.

But they also triggered that deep instinct that was instilled into everyone who fought beside him during the two operations he was an active part of. You didn’t ask back. You didn’t look around. You didn’t second guess it. You drop. You drop immediately.

He heard the shots ring out. They were incredibly close. Point blank. But he didn’t feel anything. He hadn’t been hit, that much was for sure.

“Sousa?”

There was nothing. No more fire. No more shots. But there was also no response.

Jack didn’t ask a second time. He knew that now, he had to run. For a fraction of a second, he thought about Y/N, and her telling him to be careful. He didn’t get to be careful right now. He didn’t have the luxury of time to make sure that the perimeter was secure. He jumped up, seeing no one, no attacker. He saw an automatised firing contraption dangling from the ceiling, probably triggered by him breaking the lock of the cabin. But now, it had fallen silent.

Then he saw Sousa, unconscious. He just told himself that he was, he didn’t even entertain the thought that he could be dead. He was hit in the side, twice. He was bleeding heavily. First course of action, you contain the blood loss. He did that with Sousa’s shirt, which now functioned as a bandage. He knew that theoretically, the bullets would have to be removed, but neither did he have the tools to do that right now, nor was it absolutely fundamental to happen right now. Stopping the bleeding and getting to a hospital were more important. So he picked the brunet up, running towards their car. It was a move he had practised for hours back in basic, and a move he had done too many times in the field. He didn’t even notice the weight of the other man, he didn’t have the time to notice. Before he knew it, Jack was speeding down the highway, praying that he didn’t just make someone a widow. He had told Sousa to cover him. And that, he did. That bullet hadn’t meant to hit Daniel – the contraption was set out to hit whoever opened the cupboard. Daniel took it voluntarily.

A/N: And it started out sooooo promising!! I’m not sure how well-known the symbolism of 88 is, but it is still in use in some circles today as a “hidden” extremist symbol. Though, in my opinion, it’s so obvious that you might as well spell it out. For me, I always found it rather naïve that anyone from the MCU truly believed that HYDRA had been defeated in the war, and were stunned when they reappeared - because, like mentioned in the story - not even the actual Nazis were all gone after the war. Hope you enjoyed this up-and-down chapter, and I promise, the next one is a good one. Or a terrible one. Depends on your point of view! Any feedback is appreciated, and thanks so much for reading!

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[xxruinaxxmcu]

Congratulations, my dear!!! It’s crazy, 5 years!! Seems like it was yesterday, and on the other hand, it feels like an eternity ago!! Thank YOU so much for being here, honestly, I doubt my blog would still be around if it weren’t for you, your support has really meant a lot!! To another five years🥂

I started this blog on 4th July 2017 and I can't believe I've been sharing more stories for five years. The world has changed so much, I've changed and so has my writing and the communities I've been part of.

I pondered hosting some kind of event to celebrate but instead I want to take the time to thank the people who have supported me along the way.

@dontshootmespence and @stunudo both inspired me to sharing my work and are brilliant, wonderful people. @rt8815 @brywrites @louiseeleanorbee and @ilikepipecleanerswitheyes @reiding-and-writing were also part of the CM community when I started writing and made it a really wonderful place to be. I am so happy you guys are still around.

Over the years I've been lucky enough to meet more fantastic people from that fandom such as @thorne93 @dreatine and @heycasbutt who bring so much joy. I don't write much for CM anymore and got to meet even more wonderful people when I started writing for the MCU. A huge thank you to @latent-thoughts @wickednerdery @nildesperanddum @xxruinaxxmcu @twentysomethingloser92 @spacetalbot @simuran @nbraraeaves and others.

Also finally a huge thanks to all the new OC creators I have met recently @morvantmortuary @karimac @smurphysee @starsandstormyseas @arrthurpendragon I feel so inspired right now thanks to you all and the wonderful OC Creator Bingo earlier this year.

And finally thank you to everyone who has ever read my stuff. I appreciate you all ❤️

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Thank you so much 😊😊 glad you enjoyed it!! It was so fun to write, esp. to bring in my current home city!!

Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (Book 1 and previous chapters) 

Chapter 10

“You don’t really think they want to pull a Lincoln on Truman?”, Jack asked, visibly irritated after hearing Y/N’s explanation about the meaning of the 5th of November.

“I have no idea what it means, if it’s literally or figuratively”, she shrugged, “But it means meddling with politics, that’s for sure. And if Peggy’s intel is right, they already killed a president once in 1901.”

“And you think they work with the mob for that?”, he questioned sceptically. Again, Y/N wasn’t sure about it – after all, all she had to go on was a piece of paper.

“I don’t know”, she replied, “but if you would want to kill someone, having the Mafia do it is arguably the best way to do it. The public can easily be fed an alternative explanation as to why they targeted the person in question, whether that is Truman himself or some other guy in a suit.”

Though they had very little to go on, Thompson decided to inform the Secret Service about it, in order for them to make sure that they did thorough background checks on their members, and to make sure no actual assassination plot would be successful. They needed more time to figure out what the actual plan was, and he really didn’t want it to end with the Commander and Chief being killed.

Y/N attempted to make contact with Lorenzo, but she had to make sure that it would not be seen as a meeting with federal agents, and she didn’t exactly have his phone number. She did remember a restaurant he often frequented when she initially met him, so she hoped his taste hadn’t changed. She pretended that she had found his wallet in the establishment, asking for an address or a number so that she could return it to him. She was lucky – they did have an address left behind, so she went to check it out, making sure she wasn’t being followed or observed by anyone, to verify that it was actually his address. Rather than waiting for him there, which she found too risky in case he came home with another mobster, she decided to disguise her note in a letter that looked like an electricity bill. Which was technically forgery, but who’d check that?

She left behind a post box address to which he could post a letter to, which, again, she found safer than meeting him in person. It would take considerably longer, but then again, it was for his own safety, too.

Jack was still figuring out how he was supposed to have a life next to his job – during the war, combat was all that really mattered. Sure, he had his friends to worry about, to have fun with when they weren’t in action, but essentially, there was no past, there was no future. Everyone knew that they could be dead the next day if they were in the field. But that also meant that whenever he took up his weapon, that was all that mattered – getting that next mile of territory, securing the next position. He thought a lot about home, never getting to see his family until the war ended. Or Y/N. In the first months at the SSR, actually, until he was shot, that’s how he continued. It was always about work, about closing the next case, and it felt like he couldn’t stop for one minute because the world hung in the balance.

Unfortunately, he realised, the world would almost always hang in the balance. If he waited for ‘things to pass’ to have a life, he’d be dead before he’d know it.

“Sousa, SSR.”

“Couldn’t make it any shorter, Danny-boy?”, Jack asked with a grin, placing his feet on his desk.

“Jack. Anything on the Arena Club? Peggy mentioned something about ‘5th of November’.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s some English poem about a guy who wanted to kill the king, but failed”, Jack explained, “it could be what they’ve got in mind. Just that we’re not a monarchy.”

“They’re after Truman?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, genius.”

“Right”, Daniel exhaled audibly, “If we find anything on our end, I’ll let you know.”

“You nervous?”

“What?”, Daniel asked, obviously confused, “Why should I be? It’s politicians and mobsters, Jack, by now, that’s our most common gig.”

“I didn’t mean the case”, Jack specified, “I mean your future.”

“The wedding?”, Sousa asked to confirm, “Uhm, no, I mean, it’s just a change of formalities, essentially. Why’d you ask? Terrified of asking yourself?”

Jack grit his teeth. It wasn’t that he was afraid Y/N wouldn’t say yes, he was just… unsure about the circumstances. “Don’t you wish for your life to be, ya know, less dangerous before tying the knot?”

“Then I should’ve set out to marry someone very different to Peggy, Jack”, Daniel stated amusedly, “a boring life and her don’t really go together.”

Rubbing his chin, Jack nodded, remembering after a second that Sousa had no way to tell that he was, so he added: “Yeah.”

“Look, we might never get a month off, but you’ll be able to find one day to get married. It doesn’t take much. If you’re lucky, your girl won’t drag you half-way across the world to do it, too.”

“Ha, I bet you’re ecstatic to meet Family Carter”, Jack grinned.

“You kidding?”, Sousa shot back, “I couldn’t imagine something more terrifying than that!”

“You’ve probably never been disliked by anyone in your entire life, Danny-boy, so I don’t think you’ve got reason to worry.”

“There was a time I was pretty sure you hated me.”

“Yes, Sousa, I think there was a time where apparently everyone thought I hated them”, Jack retorted, both sarcastic, as well as intently self-aware.

Sousa seemed to think for a second what to say, and eventually he replied: “I’m sure Y/N never hated you.”

Jack scoffed: “You’d be surprised. I’m quite sure the one time I almost knocked a guy’s tooth out because he’d groped her back in high school, she did kinda hate me.”

“You’ve always had a charming temperament, then”, Sousa said and Jack could picture his grin by the sound of his voice.

“My most winning attribute, I’m sure. Had to practice throwing a punch somewhere, I guess.”

“Thompson, you better get your act together after basically arranging my ceremony”, Sousa urged, “And don’t you say ‘when it’s quiet’, because that’ll never happen, clear?”

“Cristal.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Eventually, sure”, Jack evaded, now very eager to end the call. “Well, Danny-boy, I’ve got to come up with a speech for your day. And call me if you find anything on our case.”

“I’ll beat your ass with my crutch if you don’t get your act together by my first wedding anniversary, I swear to God, Thompson!”

Jack grinned before ending the call. That gave him at least more than a year to play with. Though he doubted that his nerves would dramatically improve over time.

…….

With their plane currently somewhere over the Atlantic, Y/N eyed the water intently. It felt strange heading back to Europe after a few months away, it felt like returning to something one wanted to leave behind for good, but which was a different place already since her last stay.

“You’re fidgeting.”

She looked at Jack, who apparently had woken up to provide her with an analysis of her gestures.

“Didn’t think I’d be back so soon, if I’m being honest”, she remarked, though she was grateful that they’d be headed to London, rather than Paris or Berlin.

Jack tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“About what?”

“About London. What did you do there? I’ve been there once, for virtually a day, to get Peggy’s – or not Peggy’s – file. What’s it like?”

Y/N didn’t really know how to answer that, it was hard to describe a city.

“It’s… old. I mean, for us, from America, it’s just an old city. They’ve got castles from the Middle Ages everywhere”, she began, and trying to recount the city made her feel less on edge, “they’ve got these very typical townhouses, most, I think, from the Victorian period. They’re drafty as hell, though.” She laughed at the memory of the tiny corridors of the houses, where, for some reason, it always felt like an air current was present. “The river Thames is pretty muddy, I have to say. But they have beautiful bridges everywhere, London Bridge most famously. It has a lot of parks, but be careful. The squirrels inside are so used to humans, they practically want to sit on your shoulder. Otherwise… a lot of the city has to be rebuilt. The Blitz definitely scarred it.”

“How long were you there?”, he inquired, noticing how talking about it took her stress away.

“Several months, for training purposes. It was rather odd, though, considering we were training for something without having expertise to go on. There were no veterans for us to ask about technique”, she shrugged, “We had to make it up on the fly.” She paused: “And then, at the end of the war before being discharged. Was strange to go back there, seems like so much had changed in relatively short time.”

Opening his eyes to take a look at her, Jack continued his questionnaire: “What’s your favourite spot in the city?”

“Not really original, but Hyde Park. I loved spending time at the pond that they built there”, she said with a smile, “It reminded me of Central Park.”

“I bet you sat there reading”, he guessed – and her laugh told him that he had guessed correctly.

“In all fairness, I had to become perfectly fluent in a language. I had to read Goethe somewhere. Da steh’ ich nun, ich armer Tor und bin so klug als wie zuvor, and all that.”

He huffed amusedly. He half-remembered that line coming from one professor way back when, and he was fairly certain that it was in Faust. A book he never bothered to read, even with an English translation available.

“Right, your turn”, she said, “Tell me about your time outside of combat.”

He pulled a face: “A lot less scenic, I’m afraid. In early 1944, we were brought to Camp Pendleton. It was hot and humid, like California is. Were damn glad when we could leave that place, or at least I was. But I guess it helped me in the long run, the weather in the pacific was also hot and humid.”

“Just what you love”, Y/N commented with a grin.

“Yes, so next time Sousa and Carter ask us to fly to L.A., we meet them halfway in – whatever – Kansas.”

“Nothing’s in Kansas.”

“I’m sure we’d find some case there”, he remarked with a shrug.

“You think the Mafia has a new offshore company in Wichita?”, she asked amusedly.

Again, Jack only shrugged: “Maybe they’re interested in planes, too.”

After all the talk of humid and hot weather, London posed the exact opposite. It was mid-November (and yes, the 5th of November came and went without an assassination, confirming Y/N’s suspicion that the riddle was more a hint than a plan), and the weather in England’s capital was windy and chilly – so not that different from New York, to be fair.

And, of course, for good measure, it was raining.

“Merry old England”, Y/N announced when stepping off the plane and pointing to Jack’s hat, “Hope that sits tight, ‘cause otherwise it’ll end up in the Thames, for sure.”

The actual ceremony would be near Green Park, at St. James Church, which was a small, but picturesque church in the city centre. They had flown in with only a night to spare, the next day, they would have to be ready – well, especially Jack had to be ready with his silly (or so he thought) speech that Sousa had asked him to deliver. Why, he still wasn’t quite sure. There had to be a thousand more qualified men in Sousa’s life for such a role, whether from his time at school, or even from his time in the army. Did he really think his best choice was him? Jack Thompson, who called him ‘our biggest yo-yo’ after Krzeminski’s death?

If so, Thompson felt a bit sorry for the guy. But, he was a responsible man, nonetheless, so naturally, he tried to muster up a speech that would at least be considered okay-ish.

“Can I see it?”, Y/N asked once they were in the hotel room as she watched him go over his lines again.

“No”, he replied with a small smile, “I think these types of things are supposed to be surprises to everyone, no?”

“To the groom and the bride, maybe, but not to me!”, Y/N protested, but for once, she was unsuccessful at getting him to falter. Instead, she faltered to his invitation for a kiss.

“Why me?”

“Why he asked you to give that speech?”, Y/N asked back, guessing what he meant, “I suppose you’ve worked together on saving the world, that’s something.”

“No, I meant you”, he sat down on the bed behind him, his gaze interrogating her, “why’d you stick with me?”

“What?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard correctly – sure, Jack Thompson was often harsh, and pushed people away, and rude, and conceded, but he was also – well, he was Jack. Why wouldn’t she have stuck with him, when she knew what he could be? “Why are you asking me this?”

He shrugged, as if the question wasn’t weird at all: “Just tryin’ to understand your rationale.”

“I don’t really think about it”, she confessed with a scoff, “I mean, when you do something particularly reckless, like getting shot, then I might think to myself – why did I fall in love with a madman? But on normal days?” She shrugged: “I guess I don’t. I didn’t have a particularly cordial relationship to my parents since adolescence, and being a spy makes any real relationships impossible. I guess you’ve been the closest to a constant I’ve had, and yeah, we argue, but we both love to argue.”

She expected a sarcastic remark back, but was greeted with nothing but a nod. A bit irritated, she sat down next to him and took his hand with a dry smile: “And if it means anything, as much as I stuck with you, you stuck with me for some reason, too. I try not to think about your reasoning, either, otherwise, I’d just terrify myself.”

Now, that was something Jack could really not understand. Because Y/N was Y/N – not only was she quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, though his metrics might have been off, given that ever since high school, he had believed no woman could compare with that. But it wasn’t just her beauty, she was brilliant, which was both impressive and frightening, brave, which was definitely terrifying, strong, arguably even more stubborn than he was, and despite everything she’d seen, been through and even done, she was still kind.

And there he was, the bogus Navy Cross winner with the nightmares he couldn’t shake, with the inability to let people close, the medallist who was rewarded for his cowardice, and the idiot who repetitively trusted the wrong men, getting Dooley killed, getting Krzeminski killed, and nearly causing the Second Coming by siding with Vernon. This really was no competition, and he had no idea why he was still in the game.

……

The two of them left Piccadilly Circus station, and unfortunately, Jack was not yet used to the traffic being on the wrong side of the road, so when checking for traffic, he looked in the wrong direction and was greeted by a very annoyed Brit honking at him and Y/N.

“Why the hell did they think it was smart to drive on that side of the road?”, he complained annoyed.

“First of all – I think they were first, and I doubt your rant will make them switch”, she replied with a grin, “so you might be better off just looking in both directions next time. But don’t worry. Happened to Churchill too, when he visited America.”

The church was already decently filled, most people, neither Jack nor Y/N knew – Angie aside, together with the Howling Commandos, who Jack vividly remembered. Some others, given their accent, Y/N guessed were friends of Sousa’s, possibly from his time in the army. And somewhere in the mix were the parents of the soon-to-be-weds, too.

The two of them were ushered into the front part, as Jack would have to make his way on stage for his speech at some point.

The proceedings began with the onset of music, which muted the talking of all the attendees. Jack, to be completely honest, paid very little attention to the pastor leading the service – in hindsight, he realised that his mother would have been appalled. But he was too busy staring at his notes, eventually earning an elbow to the side by Y/N.

“You’ve done it for Stark with like five minutes’ notice, you’ll be perfect”, she whispered barely audibly.

He only clenched his jaw – these two things could hardly compare. Besides, the speech he had given for stark might just have been the Oxford Dictionary definition for awkward.

What brought him back to reality was seeing Sousa standing in front, obviously nervous, too. So, to be a good friend, Jack tried his best to appear calm.

Peggy looked beautiful. Her dress’ skirt was loose, the top had a beautifully embroidered neckline and bust, and the sleeves were cut just below the elbow. She looked fantastic. Jack knew when the vows were exchanged, though he paid so much attention. And for a moment, it wasn’t that he was thinking about his stupid speech, no, he was thinking about Y/N. Would she be willing to do the same? Did she want it?

He glanced to the side, meeting her eyes and she gave him a bright smile. Did that mean yes? Did she read his thoughts yet again? Or was she just happy for Sousa and Carter?

Then, he had to go. Luckily for him, it was a bit like turning a switch. He might be nervous before, but once he knew he had to run, he’d run. No point in being nervous anymore.

Standing in front of the gathered, in front of the newly-weds, and in front of Y/N, he cleared his throat.

“When I was asked to deliver this speech by Daniel, I have to say, I pitied the guy”, he began with a sarcastic remark, which Y/N could only scoff at, “As our work together doesn’t really leave much time for cordial exchange. But possibly, it’s exactly these moments that test a person’s true character. Repetitively, Daniel has proven to be the man you want on your team when catastrophe strikes, and the man who’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep everyone else safe.” He paused for a moment, looking at Carter: “It’s – unfortunately – a quality Margaret shares, which ends more often than not in a competition of sacrifice. Both of them have saved countless of lives, mine included. There’s very little about either of you that’s conventional, and I’m sure, that’ll be the tale of your marriage, too. Margaret, Peggy, I doubt you’ll ever be what your grandmother might have envisioned her granddaughter to be. It won’t be easy for some to accept that. But one thing, I can say, both as your former boss, as well as – if I may say so – your friend. The US, and the world, can only be grateful for your unorthodoxy.” He gave her a lopsided smile, as she pulled a sarcastically surprised face when he called himself her friend. “Sousa”, he then continued, “we’ve had our share of disagreements in how to run operations, but I’ve never doubted that you’d one day be a great husband. I’m not sure if you’ve gotten lucky, or if I should warn you, probably both, but you know Peggy better than I do – if you expect her to agree with you on everything now, just because she wears a ring, you’re sorely mistaken. In any case, it has been my upmost pleasure to work with the two of you, and despite the name-change, I hope, for the sake of country and president, that we will continue our cooperation into the future. Thank you, and, Peggy, Daniel, good luck, and congratulations.”

He had forced himself to not lose sight of the two, because he suspected that if he had looked at Y/N during his speech, he would have forgotten his lines. Returning to his seat, Y/N gave him a reassuring smile: “See? You did great.”

He returned her smile, though he was curious to know if she had figured out his reason for being nervous. He hadn’t been afraid to screw up his lines and mess up Sousa’s and Carter’s big day, though, if he could avoid that, that’s obviously preferred. No, he was afraid because he knew what he had to do next, and it had nothing to do with his friends’ wedding. Did she suspect anything? She’s a spy, theoretically she could’ve gone through his things without him noticing. But she wouldn’t do that, right? He noticed he was fidgeting with his hands – she had even told him that she knew that he did that every time he was uncomfortable. So he forced himself to stop, spending the remainder of the ceremony being incredibly self-aware of every fibre in his being.

…….

Y/N was a bit confused that Thompson had scheduled their return flight for about 48h after the ceremony concluded, which left one day with hardly anything to do – it wasn’t like they could hunt down leads on the New York Families in London, albeit the crime levels were high in this city, too.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to call the airline to check if they have an earlier flight?”, she asked the next morning whilst brushing out her hair, “I’m sure Stark could get us on a different one.”

���Yeah, and I’m sure I don’t want Stark’s help”, he scoffed, “he’s the last person I want to be indebted to, and I’m sure McKinley and the rest can handle another 12 hours without my in-person supervision. They know how to reach me, I left them the hotel’s address.”

Y/N shrugged, accepting his decision.

She liked London, despite it feeling incredibly self-indulgent to her spending time here, knowing that they had an open, incredibly important case on their desks back in New York. But she also didn’t want to fight with Thompson over workload, considering he hardly had a life outside of work. His overtime alone would probably be sufficient for a month of holiday, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Thinking about Mr. Hayes and the rest of the goons in suits?”, Y/N guessed during breakfast, noticing Jack’s tense stare into his coffee cup.

He blinked, as if he had barely heard her, but then replied: “Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out”, she said positively, “I’m sure of that. I’m less sure of how that will affect our company’s reputation, though, considering some of them are basically our employers.”

Thankful that she had went with his half-hearted response, Jack had now paid attention to her and decided to go with it. “That’s true, but I doubt they’d have the leverage to get to us. Unlike other agencies, we actually found our moles. And we brought down Underwood, that should count for something.”

“I hope you’re right”, she agreed with a small smile.

Jack grabbed for his coat and hat, having made peace with his life in that moment. He’d just have to get it over with, because he was in no shape to continue this mental game with himself for longer. And the big downside of dating a spy, so he realised, is that it was incredibly difficult to keep secrets – well – secret. “C’mon”, he said with a grin, “You’ve got to show me the city. All I know so far is a church and a pub.”

“Then you’ve got the top experiences down already”, Y/N replied sarcastically, getting her own coat and hat before leaving the establishment. They were lucky – today, it wasn’t raining, and for it being mid-November, it wasn’t even that cold. They spent the morning around Covent Garden and Strand, before, after lunch, they were approaching Marble Arch.

“That over there, that’s Hyde Park”, Y/N said, pointing at the large park behind the monument.

“The Park you went to?”, he asked, though, in all fairness, he had memorised the name. after all, it wasn’t a long one, and he was cultured enough to know Jekyll and Hyde, so he could easily remember the name.

“Exactly. Practically learnt German under these trees.”

For a while, they walked quietly through the park, headed towards the pond that was built within the park.

“Can’t say life has exactly gone as I would’ve imagined it in High School”, Jack eventually scoffed, “Neither being shipped off to war and fighting an unknown dark matter, nor having to travel to a different continent for a wedding, nor having to hunt down some shady mafia connection of some American millionaires.”

“That last part is arguably the least surprising”, Y/N replied with a grin. “And yeah, neither did I. But here we are”, she sighed slowly, “and with all the drawbacks and the dangers, and all the nightmares… I don’t think I’d change a thing if I could. I don’t want anyone else to do it in my stead, and to be honest, I don’t think I could do anything better than I can do this. Whatever that says about me.”

“Probably that, by all your talk about me being reckless, you’re probably not the most risk-averse person, either.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow: “But at least I try everything I can to minimise it. You, on the other hand, have a tendency to barge into a room of people with the intention of killing you without a bulletproof vest.”

“Now you’re grossly overstating it”, he smirked.

“Nah, I find it a pretty accurate representation.”

She heard him huff in response. “You wouldn’t change a thing?”

She thought about the question for a while, watching the pond in front of them. Sure, there were many things that she messed up on the way, that would have been nice if they didn’t happen. That would have saved her from pain, or that would have saved someone’s life. But she was too realistic to know that even if she hadn’t made a single of the mistake that she did, other mistakes would have happened, and some people still would have been hurt. Possibly, the outcome would have been even worse.

She shook her head: “…No, actually. I think I have made peace with most of my mistakes. And every decision, good or bad, every time I managed to save a life, every time I failed to do it, every time I took a life, it all led me to this place. And I’m content with that.” If she hadn’t made these choices, if she hadn’t entered the SSR – if she hadn’t gone to L.A., then he would be dead. So even if it was irrational, but every mistake was worth it if it got her here. They had given her the chance to save him.

Lost in her thoughts, in memories both painful and joyful, she had completely ignored Jack next to her. Granted, she had seen him move from her peripheral vision, the pattern closely mirrored someone bending down to tie one’s shoelaces, so it didn’t get her to turn her head.

“Well, I would change something.”

“Huh?”, Y/N was brought back to reality, turning her head around – and freezing mid-way. All she could see was Jack on one knee in front of her, grabbing a box from the inside pocket of his coat whilst clearing his throat. She could see his hands shake – funny, why she noticed these miniscule details, even though she herself was in complete shock, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it was that it had become second nature to her by this point.

“I thought of what to tell you, and nothing came to mind. You’ve been with me every step of the way, even on the beaches of Iwo Jima. You know me better than anyone, and to be completely honest, that is actually terrifying”, he cracked a nervous grin, “(Your Full Name), will you marry me?”

Pedestrians had stopped in their tracks to watch the scene. Yes, that was the downside of a proposal in public, but good for them – no one knew them, so at least they’d never run into these people again.

Y/N worked quickly to overcome the initial shock, knowing that she had to say something. She felt a burning sensation in her throat, but she didn’t feel the need to cry.

“Yes”, she croaked – at least, she thought she did, though it wasn’t as bad as she had imagined it – whilst feeling an urge to laugh, “Yes, of course!”

The little gathering of pedestrians that had waited for her response started clapping, which both Jack and Y/N found quite embarrassing, but also somewhat charming as Jack forced his hand to remain still to put his mother’s engagement ring on Y/N’s finger.

Standing up, he kissed her, albeit fleetingly, as he really didn’t want to give the British public a first-row seat into their intimate relationship, but despite the circumstances, he felt like the weight of the world had just fallen off his shoulders.

Y/N had reached for his hand, sliding up to his wrists, and laughed before she whispered: “Why were you that nervous? Did you think I’d throw the ring into the pond?”

“Trust me, I’ve been through every possible reaction in my head at least ten times, and that would not have made the top ten of the worst outcomes”, he replied with a grin.

The crowd started to disperse, until only one elderly man remained behind who walked up to them, sternly looking at Jack before saying: “Good sir, you do understand this was a decision for a lifetime?”

“Yes, sir. I do intend to make it last just as long, too.”

The old man started to smile, before tipping his hat and walking away.

Jack turned around, looking in awe at Y/N – in awe for many reasons. He didn’t quite understand how he got so lucky in life. Sure, he did a job that should count for something, tried to fight the good fight, but he was far from perfect. In some sense, he was above and below average at the same time – his brilliant moments were far above what normal soldiers or agents usually did, but his worst moments were far worse than just little hiccups. They got people killed, or even worse, he killed people that didn’t deserve it. He was moody, and had a short temper, was quick to judge, and stubborn beyond belief. He was quite certain that Y/N could have easily gotten a better deal in marriage, not just in terms of personality, but also in terms of prestige and stability. He hardly exuded luxury.

Nonetheless, he was also just in awe from her reaction.

“I think that is the first and only time I will ever witness you at a loss of words”, he remarked with a grin before leaning in to kiss her again – now, without an audience, it could be just a bit more than a fleeting kiss. But, regrettably, they were still in public and open display of affection was, in Britain as in the US, scorned upon.

“I expected a lot, Mr. Thompson, but I must admit, to my shame as a spy, I didn’t expect this!”

“I have to say, it was also something in between having it planned for a while and a split-second decision to actually do it, because if I had planned it more in depth, I was fairly certain you’d figure it out”, he replied sheepishly, causing her to laugh.

“When did you even find the time to buy the ring?”, she inquired whilst looking at it.

“Didn’t have to, pop gave me the one ma once wore.”

Y/N stared at him wide-eyed – first, she was touched by the sentimental value of the ring, but she also wanted to know when that happened: “What?? But… when? You only saw him that once during dinner!”

“Yeah, and apparently ma should have been a spy, too”, he shrugged, “Cause she wasn’t at all convinced by that co-worker story. So she gave him this to give to me when you two left the room.”

“I can’t believe it”, Y/N laughed, “she didn’t even truly know we were more than friends!”

“She’ll probably be over the moon”, Jack guessed, knowing how often his mother had historically asked him about girlfriends and family plans.

“And they’ll never know that you ended up proposing to the one ‘fishing a bullet out of your sternum’, which is truly unfortunate”, she lamented jokingly.

“Maybe if you’d held on to the bullet, we could’ve made our wedding rings out of it.”

“Thompson!!”, Y/N elbowed him, not mentioning that she, in fact, did hold on to it, “That would have been macabre and probably bad luck! I don’t want a thousand diamonds, but I don’t want to have a constant reminder of death around my finger, either.”

He chuckled, finding her outburst rather amusing. “I’m sure we’ll find something less traumatic.”

……..

The two of them walked into Peggy and Daniel in the hotel lobby, who were just as confused as Y/N had initially been that they were still here, rather than having left right after the wedding.

“L/N, Thompson, what are you still doing here?”, Sousa asked, brows raised, “I would’ve bet you left England as soon as possible.”

“Why, do we seem so partial on New York?”, Y/N asked back, “Of course, no city can truly compete, but still.”

“Oh my God.”

Y/N had been too focused on Sousa to notice Peggy investigating her from head to toe – though her investigation abruptly halted when she had reached Y/N’s hands.

Sousa followed his wife’s stare, only for Thompson to take Y/N’s hand to practically hold it up to their eyeline.

“There you go, Danny-boy.”

“You two”, Y/N said with a laugh, “Are absolute idiots.”

“Agreed”, Peggy chimed in, and all four of them laughed, knowing that both of them weren’t too serious.

“But hey, at least you’ll get to visit the wonderful city of New York at some point in the future”, Jack remarked, picking up on Y/N’s earlier comment.

“Oh, yes, I already started to miss the unparalleled friendliness of New York”, Sousa retorted.

“That’s why we work there and it’s Jack’s office”, Y/N said with a dry grin, “that’s exactly our kind of crowd.”

A/N: First of all, I hope you enjoyed this rather different type of chapter!! Also, yes, all the details about the location in London is the product of first hand experience, as I walk past this church every single day! We’ve reached about the half-way point of book two, I think! So still approx. 10 more chapters to look forward to. I’m so excited for you to read the next - let’s just put it that way. England’s not the only foreign location this story will take Y/N and Jack! As always, every comment, heart and reblog is extremely appreciated!

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Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (Book 1 and previous chapters) 

Chapter 10

“You don’t really think they want to pull a Lincoln on Truman?”, Jack asked, visibly irritated after hearing Y/N’s explanation about the meaning of the 5th of November.

“I have no idea what it means, if it’s literally or figuratively”, she shrugged, “But it means meddling with politics, that’s for sure. And if Peggy’s intel is right, they already killed a president once in 1901.”

“And you think they work with the mob for that?”, he questioned sceptically. Again, Y/N wasn’t sure about it – after all, all she had to go on was a piece of paper.

“I don’t know”, she replied, “but if you would want to kill someone, having the Mafia do it is arguably the best way to do it. The public can easily be fed an alternative explanation as to why they targeted the person in question, whether that is Truman himself or some other guy in a suit.”

Though they had very little to go on, Thompson decided to inform the Secret Service about it, in order for them to make sure that they did thorough background checks on their members, and to make sure no actual assassination plot would be successful. They needed more time to figure out what the actual plan was, and he really didn’t want it to end with the Commander and Chief being killed.

Y/N attempted to make contact with Lorenzo, but she had to make sure that it would not be seen as a meeting with federal agents, and she didn’t exactly have his phone number. She did remember a restaurant he often frequented when she initially met him, so she hoped his taste hadn’t changed. She pretended that she had found his wallet in the establishment, asking for an address or a number so that she could return it to him. She was lucky – they did have an address left behind, so she went to check it out, making sure she wasn’t being followed or observed by anyone, to verify that it was actually his address. Rather than waiting for him there, which she found too risky in case he came home with another mobster, she decided to disguise her note in a letter that looked like an electricity bill. Which was technically forgery, but who’d check that?

She left behind a post box address to which he could post a letter to, which, again, she found safer than meeting him in person. It would take considerably longer, but then again, it was for his own safety, too.

Jack was still figuring out how he was supposed to have a life next to his job – during the war, combat was all that really mattered. Sure, he had his friends to worry about, to have fun with when they weren’t in action, but essentially, there was no past, there was no future. Everyone knew that they could be dead the next day if they were in the field. But that also meant that whenever he took up his weapon, that was all that mattered – getting that next mile of territory, securing the next position. He thought a lot about home, never getting to see his family until the war ended. Or Y/N. In the first months at the SSR, actually, until he was shot, that’s how he continued. It was always about work, about closing the next case, and it felt like he couldn’t stop for one minute because the world hung in the balance.

Unfortunately, he realised, the world would almost always hang in the balance. If he waited for ‘things to pass’ to have a life, he’d be dead before he’d know it.

“Sousa, SSR.”

“Couldn’t make it any shorter, Danny-boy?”, Jack asked with a grin, placing his feet on his desk.

“Jack. Anything on the Arena Club? Peggy mentioned something about ‘5th of November’.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s some English poem about a guy who wanted to kill the king, but failed”, Jack explained, “it could be what they’ve got in mind. Just that we’re not a monarchy.”

“They’re after Truman?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, genius.”

“Right”, Daniel exhaled audibly, “If we find anything on our end, I’ll let you know.”

“You nervous?”

“What?”, Daniel asked, obviously confused, “Why should I be? It’s politicians and mobsters, Jack, by now, that’s our most common gig.”

“I didn’t mean the case”, Jack specified, “I mean your future.”

“The wedding?”, Sousa asked to confirm, “Uhm, no, I mean, it’s just a change of formalities, essentially. Why’d you ask? Terrified of asking yourself?”

Jack grit his teeth. It wasn’t that he was afraid Y/N wouldn’t say yes, he was just… unsure about the circumstances. “Don’t you wish for your life to be, ya know, less dangerous before tying the knot?”

“Then I should’ve set out to marry someone very different to Peggy, Jack”, Daniel stated amusedly, “a boring life and her don’t really go together.”

Rubbing his chin, Jack nodded, remembering after a second that Sousa had no way to tell that he was, so he added: “Yeah.”

“Look, we might never get a month off, but you’ll be able to find one day to get married. It doesn’t take much. If you’re lucky, your girl won’t drag you half-way across the world to do it, too.”

“Ha, I bet you’re ecstatic to meet Family Carter”, Jack grinned.

“You kidding?”, Sousa shot back, “I couldn’t imagine something more terrifying than that!”

“You’ve probably never been disliked by anyone in your entire life, Danny-boy, so I don’t think you’ve got reason to worry.”

“There was a time I was pretty sure you hated me.”

“Yes, Sousa, I think there was a time where apparently everyone thought I hated them”, Jack retorted, both sarcastic, as well as intently self-aware.

Sousa seemed to think for a second what to say, and eventually he replied: “I’m sure Y/N never hated you.”

Jack scoffed: “You’d be surprised. I’m quite sure the one time I almost knocked a guy’s tooth out because he’d groped her back in high school, she did kinda hate me.”

“You’ve always had a charming temperament, then”, Sousa said and Jack could picture his grin by the sound of his voice.

“My most winning attribute, I’m sure. Had to practice throwing a punch somewhere, I guess.”

“Thompson, you better get your act together after basically arranging my ceremony”, Sousa urged, “And don’t you say ‘when it’s quiet’, because that’ll never happen, clear?”

“Cristal.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Eventually, sure”, Jack evaded, now very eager to end the call. “Well, Danny-boy, I’ve got to come up with a speech for your day. And call me if you find anything on our case.”

“I’ll beat your ass with my crutch if you don’t get your act together by my first wedding anniversary, I swear to God, Thompson!”

Jack grinned before ending the call. That gave him at least more than a year to play with. Though he doubted that his nerves would dramatically improve over time.

…….

With their plane currently somewhere over the Atlantic, Y/N eyed the water intently. It felt strange heading back to Europe after a few months away, it felt like returning to something one wanted to leave behind for good, but which was a different place already since her last stay.

“You’re fidgeting.”

She looked at Jack, who apparently had woken up to provide her with an analysis of her gestures.

“Didn’t think I’d be back so soon, if I’m being honest”, she remarked, though she was grateful that they’d be headed to London, rather than Paris or Berlin.

Jack tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“About what?”

“About London. What did you do there? I’ve been there once, for virtually a day, to get Peggy’s – or not Peggy’s – file. What’s it like?”

Y/N didn’t really know how to answer that, it was hard to describe a city.

“It’s… old. I mean, for us, from America, it’s just an old city. They’ve got castles from the Middle Ages everywhere”, she began, and trying to recount the city made her feel less on edge, “they’ve got these very typical townhouses, most, I think, from the Victorian period. They’re drafty as hell, though.” She laughed at the memory of the tiny corridors of the houses, where, for some reason, it always felt like an air current was present. “The river Thames is pretty muddy, I have to say. But they have beautiful bridges everywhere, London Bridge most famously. It has a lot of parks, but be careful. The squirrels inside are so used to humans, they practically want to sit on your shoulder. Otherwise… a lot of the city has to be rebuilt. The Blitz definitely scarred it.”

“How long were you there?”, he inquired, noticing how talking about it took her stress away.

“Several months, for training purposes. It was rather odd, though, considering we were training for something without having expertise to go on. There were no veterans for us to ask about technique”, she shrugged, “We had to make it up on the fly.” She paused: “And then, at the end of the war before being discharged. Was strange to go back there, seems like so much had changed in relatively short time.”

Opening his eyes to take a look at her, Jack continued his questionnaire: “What’s your favourite spot in the city?”

“Not really original, but Hyde Park. I loved spending time at the pond that they built there”, she said with a smile, “It reminded me of Central Park.”

“I bet you sat there reading”, he guessed – and her laugh told him that he had guessed correctly.

“In all fairness, I had to become perfectly fluent in a language. I had to read Goethe somewhere. Da steh’ ich nun, ich armer Tor und bin so klug als wie zuvor, and all that.”

He huffed amusedly. He half-remembered that line coming from one professor way back when, and he was fairly certain that it was in Faust. A book he never bothered to read, even with an English translation available.

“Right, your turn”, she said, “Tell me about your time outside of combat.”

He pulled a face: “A lot less scenic, I’m afraid. In early 1944, we were brought to Camp Pendleton. It was hot and humid, like California is. Were damn glad when we could leave that place, or at least I was. But I guess it helped me in the long run, the weather in the pacific was also hot and humid.”

“Just what you love”, Y/N commented with a grin.

“Yes, so next time Sousa and Carter ask us to fly to L.A., we meet them halfway in – whatever – Kansas.”

“Nothing’s in Kansas.”

“I’m sure we’d find some case there”, he remarked with a shrug.

“You think the Mafia has a new offshore company in Wichita?”, she asked amusedly.

Again, Jack only shrugged: “Maybe they’re interested in planes, too.”

After all the talk of humid and hot weather, London posed the exact opposite. It was mid-November (and yes, the 5th of November came and went without an assassination, confirming Y/N’s suspicion that the riddle was more a hint than a plan), and the weather in England’s capital was windy and chilly – so not that different from New York, to be fair.

And, of course, for good measure, it was raining.

“Merry old England”, Y/N announced when stepping off the plane and pointing to Jack’s hat, “Hope that sits tight, ‘cause otherwise it’ll end up in the Thames, for sure.”

The actual ceremony would be near Green Park, at St. James Church, which was a small, but picturesque church in the city centre. They had flown in with only a night to spare, the next day, they would have to be ready – well, especially Jack had to be ready with his silly (or so he thought) speech that Sousa had asked him to deliver. Why, he still wasn’t quite sure. There had to be a thousand more qualified men in Sousa’s life for such a role, whether from his time at school, or even from his time in the army. Did he really think his best choice was him? Jack Thompson, who called him ‘our biggest yo-yo’ after Krzeminski’s death?

If so, Thompson felt a bit sorry for the guy. But, he was a responsible man, nonetheless, so naturally, he tried to muster up a speech that would at least be considered okay-ish.

“Can I see it?”, Y/N asked once they were in the hotel room as she watched him go over his lines again.

“No”, he replied with a small smile, “I think these types of things are supposed to be surprises to everyone, no?”

“To the groom and the bride, maybe, but not to me!”, Y/N protested, but for once, she was unsuccessful at getting him to falter. Instead, she faltered to his invitation for a kiss.

“Why me?”

“Why he asked you to give that speech?”, Y/N asked back, guessing what he meant, “I suppose you’ve worked together on saving the world, that’s something.”

“No, I meant you”, he sat down on the bed behind him, his gaze interrogating her, “why’d you stick with me?”

“What?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard correctly – sure, Jack Thompson was often harsh, and pushed people away, and rude, and conceded, but he was also – well, he was Jack. Why wouldn’t she have stuck with him, when she knew what he could be? “Why are you asking me this?”

He shrugged, as if the question wasn’t weird at all: “Just tryin’ to understand your rationale.”

“I don’t really think about it”, she confessed with a scoff, “I mean, when you do something particularly reckless, like getting shot, then I might think to myself – why did I fall in love with a madman? But on normal days?” She shrugged: “I guess I don’t. I didn’t have a particularly cordial relationship to my parents since adolescence, and being a spy makes any real relationships impossible. I guess you’ve been the closest to a constant I’ve had, and yeah, we argue, but we both love to argue.”

She expected a sarcastic remark back, but was greeted with nothing but a nod. A bit irritated, she sat down next to him and took his hand with a dry smile: “And if it means anything, as much as I stuck with you, you stuck with me for some reason, too. I try not to think about your reasoning, either, otherwise, I’d just terrify myself.”

Now, that was something Jack could really not understand. Because Y/N was Y/N – not only was she quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, though his metrics might have been off, given that ever since high school, he had believed no woman could compare with that. But it wasn’t just her beauty, she was brilliant, which was both impressive and frightening, brave, which was definitely terrifying, strong, arguably even more stubborn than he was, and despite everything she’d seen, been through and even done, she was still kind.

And there he was, the bogus Navy Cross winner with the nightmares he couldn’t shake, with the inability to let people close, the medallist who was rewarded for his cowardice, and the idiot who repetitively trusted the wrong men, getting Dooley killed, getting Krzeminski killed, and nearly causing the Second Coming by siding with Vernon. This really was no competition, and he had no idea why he was still in the game.

……

The two of them left Piccadilly Circus station, and unfortunately, Jack was not yet used to the traffic being on the wrong side of the road, so when checking for traffic, he looked in the wrong direction and was greeted by a very annoyed Brit honking at him and Y/N.

“Why the hell did they think it was smart to drive on that side of the road?”, he complained annoyed.

“First of all – I think they were first, and I doubt your rant will make them switch”, she replied with a grin, “so you might be better off just looking in both directions next time. But don’t worry. Happened to Churchill too, when he visited America.”

The church was already decently filled, most people, neither Jack nor Y/N knew – Angie aside, together with the Howling Commandos, who Jack vividly remembered. Some others, given their accent, Y/N guessed were friends of Sousa’s, possibly from his time in the army. And somewhere in the mix were the parents of the soon-to-be-weds, too.

The two of them were ushered into the front part, as Jack would have to make his way on stage for his speech at some point.

The proceedings began with the onset of music, which muted the talking of all the attendees. Jack, to be completely honest, paid very little attention to the pastor leading the service – in hindsight, he realised that his mother would have been appalled. But he was too busy staring at his notes, eventually earning an elbow to the side by Y/N.

“You’ve done it for Stark with like five minutes’ notice, you’ll be perfect”, she whispered barely audibly.

He only clenched his jaw – these two things could hardly compare. Besides, the speech he had given for stark might just have been the Oxford Dictionary definition for awkward.

What brought him back to reality was seeing Sousa standing in front, obviously nervous, too. So, to be a good friend, Jack tried his best to appear calm.

Peggy looked beautiful. Her dress’ skirt was loose, the top had a beautifully embroidered neckline and bust, and the sleeves were cut just below the elbow. She looked fantastic. Jack knew when the vows were exchanged, though he paid so much attention. And for a moment, it wasn’t that he was thinking about his stupid speech, no, he was thinking about Y/N. Would she be willing to do the same? Did she want it?

He glanced to the side, meeting her eyes and she gave him a bright smile. Did that mean yes? Did she read his thoughts yet again? Or was she just happy for Sousa and Carter?

Then, he had to go. Luckily for him, it was a bit like turning a switch. He might be nervous before, but once he knew he had to run, he’d run. No point in being nervous anymore.

Standing in front of the gathered, in front of the newly-weds, and in front of Y/N, he cleared his throat.

“When I was asked to deliver this speech by Daniel, I have to say, I pitied the guy”, he began with a sarcastic remark, which Y/N could only scoff at, “As our work together doesn’t really leave much time for cordial exchange. But possibly, it’s exactly these moments that test a person’s true character. Repetitively, Daniel has proven to be the man you want on your team when catastrophe strikes, and the man who’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep everyone else safe.” He paused for a moment, looking at Carter: “It’s – unfortunately – a quality Margaret shares, which ends more often than not in a competition of sacrifice. Both of them have saved countless of lives, mine included. There’s very little about either of you that’s conventional, and I’m sure, that’ll be the tale of your marriage, too. Margaret, Peggy, I doubt you’ll ever be what your grandmother might have envisioned her granddaughter to be. It won’t be easy for some to accept that. But one thing, I can say, both as your former boss, as well as – if I may say so – your friend. The US, and the world, can only be grateful for your unorthodoxy.” He gave her a lopsided smile, as she pulled a sarcastically surprised face when he called himself her friend. “Sousa”, he then continued, “we’ve had our share of disagreements in how to run operations, but I’ve never doubted that you’d one day be a great husband. I’m not sure if you’ve gotten lucky, or if I should warn you, probably both, but you know Peggy better than I do – if you expect her to agree with you on everything now, just because she wears a ring, you’re sorely mistaken. In any case, it has been my upmost pleasure to work with the two of you, and despite the name-change, I hope, for the sake of country and president, that we will continue our cooperation into the future. Thank you, and, Peggy, Daniel, good luck, and congratulations.”

He had forced himself to not lose sight of the two, because he suspected that if he had looked at Y/N during his speech, he would have forgotten his lines. Returning to his seat, Y/N gave him a reassuring smile: “See? You did great.”

He returned her smile, though he was curious to know if she had figured out his reason for being nervous. He hadn’t been afraid to screw up his lines and mess up Sousa’s and Carter’s big day, though, if he could avoid that, that’s obviously preferred. No, he was afraid because he knew what he had to do next, and it had nothing to do with his friends’ wedding. Did she suspect anything? She’s a spy, theoretically she could’ve gone through his things without him noticing. But she wouldn’t do that, right? He noticed he was fidgeting with his hands – she had even told him that she knew that he did that every time he was uncomfortable. So he forced himself to stop, spending the remainder of the ceremony being incredibly self-aware of every fibre in his being.

…….

Y/N was a bit confused that Thompson had scheduled their return flight for about 48h after the ceremony concluded, which left one day with hardly anything to do – it wasn’t like they could hunt down leads on the New York Families in London, albeit the crime levels were high in this city, too.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to call the airline to check if they have an earlier flight?”, she asked the next morning whilst brushing out her hair, “I’m sure Stark could get us on a different one.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure I don’t want Stark’s help”, he scoffed, “he’s the last person I want to be indebted to, and I’m sure McKinley and the rest can handle another 12 hours without my in-person supervision. They know how to reach me, I left them the hotel’s address.”

Y/N shrugged, accepting his decision.

She liked London, despite it feeling incredibly self-indulgent to her spending time here, knowing that they had an open, incredibly important case on their desks back in New York. But she also didn’t want to fight with Thompson over workload, considering he hardly had a life outside of work. His overtime alone would probably be sufficient for a month of holiday, so she kept her mouth shut.

“Thinking about Mr. Hayes and the rest of the goons in suits?”, Y/N guessed during breakfast, noticing Jack’s tense stare into his coffee cup.

He blinked, as if he had barely heard her, but then replied: “Yeah.”

“We’ll figure it out”, she said positively, “I’m sure of that. I’m less sure of how that will affect our company’s reputation, though, considering some of them are basically our employers.”

Thankful that she had went with his half-hearted response, Jack had now paid attention to her and decided to go with it. “That’s true, but I doubt they’d have the leverage to get to us. Unlike other agencies, we actually found our moles. And we brought down Underwood, that should count for something.”

“I hope you’re right”, she agreed with a small smile.

Jack grabbed for his coat and hat, having made peace with his life in that moment. He’d just have to get it over with, because he was in no shape to continue this mental game with himself for longer. And the big downside of dating a spy, so he realised, is that it was incredibly difficult to keep secrets – well – secret. “C’mon”, he said with a grin, “You’ve got to show me the city. All I know so far is a church and a pub.”

“Then you’ve got the top experiences down already”, Y/N replied sarcastically, getting her own coat and hat before leaving the establishment. They were lucky – today, it wasn’t raining, and for it being mid-November, it wasn’t even that cold. They spent the morning around Covent Garden and Strand, before, after lunch, they were approaching Marble Arch.

“That over there, that’s Hyde Park”, Y/N said, pointing at the large park behind the monument.

“The Park you went to?”, he asked, though, in all fairness, he had memorised the name. after all, it wasn’t a long one, and he was cultured enough to know Jekyll and Hyde, so he could easily remember the name.

“Exactly. Practically learnt German under these trees.”

For a while, they walked quietly through the park, headed towards the pond that was built within the park.

“Can’t say life has exactly gone as I would’ve imagined it in High School”, Jack eventually scoffed, “Neither being shipped off to war and fighting an unknown dark matter, nor having to travel to a different continent for a wedding, nor having to hunt down some shady mafia connection of some American millionaires.”

“That last part is arguably the least surprising”, Y/N replied with a grin. “And yeah, neither did I. But here we are”, she sighed slowly, “and with all the drawbacks and the dangers, and all the nightmares… I don’t think I’d change a thing if I could. I don’t want anyone else to do it in my stead, and to be honest, I don’t think I could do anything better than I can do this. Whatever that says about me.”

“Probably that, by all your talk about me being reckless, you’re probably not the most risk-averse person, either.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow: “But at least I try everything I can to minimise it. You, on the other hand, have a tendency to barge into a room of people with the intention of killing you without a bulletproof vest.”

“Now you’re grossly overstating it”, he smirked.

“Nah, I find it a pretty accurate representation.”

She heard him huff in response. “You wouldn’t change a thing?”

She thought about the question for a while, watching the pond in front of them. Sure, there were many things that she messed up on the way, that would have been nice if they didn’t happen. That would have saved her from pain, or that would have saved someone’s life. But she was too realistic to know that even if she hadn’t made a single of the mistake that she did, other mistakes would have happened, and some people still would have been hurt. Possibly, the outcome would have been even worse.

She shook her head: “…No, actually. I think I have made peace with most of my mistakes. And every decision, good or bad, every time I managed to save a life, every time I failed to do it, every time I took a life, it all led me to this place. And I’m content with that.” If she hadn’t made these choices, if she hadn’t entered the SSR – if she hadn’t gone to L.A., then he would be dead. So even if it was irrational, but every mistake was worth it if it got her here. They had given her the chance to save him.

Lost in her thoughts, in memories both painful and joyful, she had completely ignored Jack next to her. Granted, she had seen him move from her peripheral vision, the pattern closely mirrored someone bending down to tie one’s shoelaces, so it didn’t get her to turn her head.

“Well, I would change something.”

“Huh?”, Y/N was brought back to reality, turning her head around – and freezing mid-way. All she could see was Jack on one knee in front of her, grabbing a box from the inside pocket of his coat whilst clearing his throat. She could see his hands shake – funny, why she noticed these miniscule details, even though she herself was in complete shock, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it was that it had become second nature to her by this point.

“I thought of what to tell you, and nothing came to mind. You’ve been with me every step of the way, even on the beaches of Iwo Jima. You know me better than anyone, and to be completely honest, that is actually terrifying”, he cracked a nervous grin, “(Your Full Name), will you marry me?”

Pedestrians had stopped in their tracks to watch the scene. Yes, that was the downside of a proposal in public, but good for them – no one knew them, so at least they’d never run into these people again.

Y/N worked quickly to overcome the initial shock, knowing that she had to say something. She felt a burning sensation in her throat, but she didn’t feel the need to cry.

“Yes”, she croaked – at least, she thought she did, though it wasn’t as bad as she had imagined it – whilst feeling an urge to laugh, “Yes, of course!”

The little gathering of pedestrians that had waited for her response started clapping, which both Jack and Y/N found quite embarrassing, but also somewhat charming as Jack forced his hand to remain still to put his mother’s engagement ring on Y/N’s finger.

Standing up, he kissed her, albeit fleetingly, as he really didn’t want to give the British public a first-row seat into their intimate relationship, but despite the circumstances, he felt like the weight of the world had just fallen off his shoulders.

Y/N had reached for his hand, sliding up to his wrists, and laughed before she whispered: “Why were you that nervous? Did you think I’d throw the ring into the pond?”

“Trust me, I’ve been through every possible reaction in my head at least ten times, and that would not have made the top ten of the worst outcomes”, he replied with a grin.

The crowd started to disperse, until only one elderly man remained behind who walked up to them, sternly looking at Jack before saying: “Good sir, you do understand this was a decision for a lifetime?”

“Yes, sir. I do intend to make it last just as long, too.”

The old man started to smile, before tipping his hat and walking away.

Jack turned around, looking in awe at Y/N – in awe for many reasons. He didn’t quite understand how he got so lucky in life. Sure, he did a job that should count for something, tried to fight the good fight, but he was far from perfect. In some sense, he was above and below average at the same time – his brilliant moments were far above what normal soldiers or agents usually did, but his worst moments were far worse than just little hiccups. They got people killed, or even worse, he killed people that didn’t deserve it. He was moody, and had a short temper, was quick to judge, and stubborn beyond belief. He was quite certain that Y/N could have easily gotten a better deal in marriage, not just in terms of personality, but also in terms of prestige and stability. He hardly exuded luxury.

Nonetheless, he was also just in awe from her reaction.

“I think that is the first and only time I will ever witness you at a loss of words”, he remarked with a grin before leaning in to kiss her again – now, without an audience, it could be just a bit more than a fleeting kiss. But, regrettably, they were still in public and open display of affection was, in Britain as in the US, scorned upon.

“I expected a lot, Mr. Thompson, but I must admit, to my shame as a spy, I didn’t expect this!”

“I have to say, it was also something in between having it planned for a while and a split-second decision to actually do it, because if I had planned it more in depth, I was fairly certain you’d figure it out”, he replied sheepishly, causing her to laugh.

“When did you even find the time to buy the ring?”, she inquired whilst looking at it.

“Didn’t have to, pop gave me the one ma once wore.”

Y/N stared at him wide-eyed – first, she was touched by the sentimental value of the ring, but she also wanted to know when that happened: “What?? But… when? You only saw him that once during dinner!”

“Yeah, and apparently ma should have been a spy, too”, he shrugged, “Cause she wasn’t at all convinced by that co-worker story. So she gave him this to give to me when you two left the room.”

“I can’t believe it”, Y/N laughed, “she didn’t even truly know we were more than friends!”

“She’ll probably be over the moon”, Jack guessed, knowing how often his mother had historically asked him about girlfriends and family plans.

“And they’ll never know that you ended up proposing to the one ‘fishing a bullet out of your sternum’, which is truly unfortunate”, she lamented jokingly.

“Maybe if you’d held on to the bullet, we could’ve made our wedding rings out of it.”

“Thompson!!”, Y/N elbowed him, not mentioning that she, in fact, did hold on to it, “That would have been macabre and probably bad luck! I don’t want a thousand diamonds, but I don’t want to have a constant reminder of death around my finger, either.”

He chuckled, finding her outburst rather amusing. “I’m sure we’ll find something less traumatic.”

……..

The two of them walked into Peggy and Daniel in the hotel lobby, who were just as confused as Y/N had initially been that they were still here, rather than having left right after the wedding.

“L/N, Thompson, what are you still doing here?”, Sousa asked, brows raised, “I would’ve bet you left England as soon as possible.”

“Why, do we seem so partial on New York?”, Y/N asked back, “Of course, no city can truly compete, but still.”

“Oh my God.”

Y/N had been too focused on Sousa to notice Peggy investigating her from head to toe – though her investigation abruptly halted when she had reached Y/N’s hands.

Sousa followed his wife’s stare, only for Thompson to take Y/N’s hand to practically hold it up to their eyeline.

“There you go, Danny-boy.”

“You two”, Y/N said with a laugh, “Are absolute idiots.”

“Agreed”, Peggy chimed in, and all four of them laughed, knowing that both of them weren’t too serious.

“But hey, at least you’ll get to visit the wonderful city of New York at some point in the future”, Jack remarked, picking up on Y/N’s earlier comment.

“Oh, yes, I already started to miss the unparalleled friendliness of New York”, Sousa retorted.

“That’s why we work there and it’s Jack’s office”, Y/N said with a dry grin, “that’s exactly our kind of crowd.”

A/N: First of all, I hope you enjoyed this rather different type of chapter!! Also, yes, all the details about the location in London is the product of first hand experience, as I walk past this church every single day! We’ve reached about the half-way point of book two, I think! So still approx. 10 more chapters to look forward to. I’m so excited for you to read the next - let’s just put it that way. England’s not the only foreign location this story will take Y/N and Jack! As always, every comment, heart and reblog is extremely appreciated!

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Jack Thompson x Reader

A Farewell of Childhood Friends

Theoretically part of the What Lies beneath universe, but can be read on its own, too!

Context: In December of 1941, the lives of Y/N and Jack are forever changed by the US entering the war. The draft commences, and it is clear that Jack will leave for the frontlines. Unbeknownst to him, Y/N isn’t about to sit out the war in New York, though. It would turn out to be a farewell in many ways - physically, as well as to their long-term relationship as friends.

The time at University already felt like ages ago – despite only a few months had passed since Y/N had attained her Bachelor’s degree. It felt like that was part of a different lifetime – as she had graduated just months before Pearl Harbour was attacked. The mood in the country had been antsy before – with the West Coast eyeing the Imperial Japanese fleet, whilst the East Coast watched wearily as the British and French forces experienced their joint Waterloo at Dunkirk. Both forces, the Japanese and the Germans, appeared to be on the rise everywhere they fought. In summer of 1941, the German operation to defeat the Soviet Union began – Operation Barbarossa, as it became known. The first months were similar to their previous operations, like against the French, or the Scandinavian countries. They moved swiftly, sweeping the land like the plague they were. And in the Pacific, island after island was swallowed up by the Empire of the Rising Sun.

The world looked like it was heading for Armageddon, and on December 6th, 1941, the United States were made to watch what hell would look like.

Hours later, the US was no longer a bystander. America was at war. Y/N knew what that meant. It meant that all able-bodied young men would be drafted into service.

She and Jack had talked about the possibility of America entering the war many times. It wasn’t like no one expected something to happen to drag them into war – after all, a single ship was enough to get them into the Great War.

And Y/N actually didn’t need to ask Jack to know that he’d be there on day one, standing ready to be drafted, if America were to enter the war.

She knew him. She knew both his ambition for recognition, as well as his understanding of duty.

His father had been in the Great War, and if Jack hated to be called one thing, it was being called a coward. He wouldn’t hesitate, not because of something this fundamental.

And when they had learnt of what had happened at Pearl Harbour, Y/N saw the steely-eyed resolve in his face.

She knew that she would have to let him go. The thought alone made her feel incredibly selfish – why should she feel like she deserved to keep him here, when all other young men would also be asked to serve? After all, he was just a friend. Her best friend. But only that. She didn’t have to wave off her brother to war, or her husband – God forbid! She didn’t have anyone to worry about. But it still stung.

Jack didn’t tell her where he was going to for his draft, or what branch he was trying to enlist in – suddenly, he was just out of town. It was then that Y/N recounted a memory from not too long ago – just a few weeks, after she had finished her shift at the library.  

“My apologies”, he asked, and Y/N immediately recognised that he was no native, “I am searching for this address. Could you perhaps show me in the right direction?”

“Of course”, Y/N said with a friendly smile, taking the note with the address on it that he was holding to see for what he was looking for. “Oh, yes, I know this one. It’s a road not too far from here. You are not familiar with the streets, I’m guessing?” He nodded, so Y/N decided that she would be a good Samaritan today. “I can get you there. It’s on my path home, and I’m finishing my shift now, anyways.”

Outside on the street, Y/N decided to ask him where he was from – if he was here as a tourist.

“No, my dear”, the man said, and the hurt in his voice was unmistakable. “I am afraid that this must now become my home. You see, I have lived in Munich for all of my life. But I don’t believe that it is my home anymore.” He pointed to the chain around his neck, on its pendant, Y/N could faintly make out the Star of David. It hit her like a ton of bricks.

“I’m so sorry”, she said quickly, “I shouldn’t have pried. This must have been incredibly hurtful.”

“No, it is fine, I can assure you. Whether you asked me or not, there is not a second I do not think about it. I tried to remain there, I truly did. My family and I were well-respected… once upon a time. We thought about leaving after 1933… but we made it work. For a while.”

Y/N didn’t pressure him to speak, but she was eager to listen.

“You see, it wasn’t that they rounded us all up right away. It was… it was more like a faint wind, eventually turning into a storm. In late 1940, suddenly, I did not know anymore where my children were. They did not tell me that they were leaving. I do not know where they are, but I know they would not leave willingly without telling me, first. And with all the Pogroms, all the violence, I can only imagine the horrors they must be facing.”

She began to meet with the old man regularly, help him to get familiar with life in New York. His name was Eduard Rathenau. On the day where Jack had disappeared, she went to see him again.

After this meeting, Y/N had made up her mind. She knew Jack would be leaving. She knew what was headed their way. Factories would need a new labour force for the wartime production.

But she would not be working in a factory.

Mr. Caswell, a friend of her father, Y/N knew that he was working for the British Armed Forces, and despite his rather harsh sarcasm, he and her had always gotten along – before he was called back to the United Kingdom in 1940.

“You know that I am a quick learner”, she told him over the phone, “and I even know some basic German.” It took some convincing, but he eventually agreed to try to pull some strings to get her a position with the SOE.

Of course, Y/N didn’t say that to anyone, especially not after she had experienced her parents’ reaction to her even suggesting serving.

Once Jack was back in town, she had heard back from Mr. Caswell, and she knew that in only a few weeks, she’d be on her way to Britain for training purposes.

When she met with Jack in Central Park, the grin on his face already told her one thing: He had done something insanely stupid.

“What’s got you all smiling?”, she asked a bit apprehensive, “they told you you happen to be bulletproof?”

“You’re looking at a future US Marine”, he announced, and she only raised her eyebrows.

“Your dad was Army, right?”

“Exactly, so I just one-upped him.”

Y/N deadpanned. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me. You did not just sign your death sentence to get one over you old man, did you?”

“Guess I’m not going to end up dead, then”, he said with a wink, and Y/N wanted to scream at him. She wanted to tell him not to be a dumbass, but then she remembered, she was talking to Jack Thompson. Perhaps the definition of a jackass.

“If that was your dream branch”, she mustered all the strength in her body to give him a genuine smile, or at least, it appeared to be genuine, “then I congratulate you for getting in. Good thing you’re quite tall.”

As they were walking, Jack eventually turned more serious. “I’m leaving for basic in a few days.”

Y/N only nodded. She knew the normal scheduling. The Forces needed as many men to be recruited as they could manage, and she wasn’t surprised that Jack would be one of their most-desired candidates. Not only did he have the physical requirements met, he was also one of the few graduates they’d get.

“Did you tell your parents?”

“About to.”

“I can already see Angeline’s face – the fusion of despair and pride”, Y/N huffed dryly to mask her own worry, “I bet she’ll pray extra for ya.”

She contemplated telling him about her own future. But when he looked at her with concern in his eyes and told her that he was less worried about his own life than his family’s wellbeing at home, she knew that she couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t make him worry about someone else, especially since she’d be in Britain – the country that was repetitively hit by enemy fire from the skies.

“They’ll be alright”, she said, trying to sound confident. “America will not be destroyed. We’ll win, whatever it takes. Hell, we’ve done it before. Not just two decades ago, we won against the British when they ruled the world. What’s another two empires to destroy?” Technically, that was true, but arguably, none of the previous empires had been genocidal in nature. It should become obvious soon enough that the strength needed, the sacrifice required to win this war would be beyond anything they could have anticipated.

“Will you be alright?”

The question startled her. She didn’t want to be asked that right now, because she hated lying to his face. She didn’t know if she’d be alright, both physically, as well as emotionally.

“I’m always alright, Jack.”

Seeing her discomfort, he decided to crack a joke instead. “You better be ready to welcome me home with some swanky parade to celebrate your war hero friend.”

Y/N punched him in the arm: “Oh, please, like you need me to inflate your ego!”

He laughed. Y/N didn’t know it at the time, but it should have been the last laugh she saw from him before it became tainted by the blood of war. Or maybe it was both his smile and her eyes that were soon to be changed by their experiences.

“Just be careful. And don’t try to be the hero”, Y/N said, unable to get rid of the worry in her voice entirely. “Heroes tend to come back in casquets, you know.”

“You won’t get of me that easily, promise.”

Y/N huffed. Promises were fragile things. They didn’t stop bullets. They didn’t stop grenades. But she knew Jack. She knew he was not suicidal – at least most of the times. His records of picking fights may indicate otherwise.

“You better remember that when fired upon.”

Only a few days later, he came to her front door, dressed to head off for basic training to say goodbye. It was tense. Y/N could tell that he knew this could be farewell. Farewell forever.

And neither of them wanted to make it any harder than need be – so they simply said goodbye. They didn’t say everything else they could have said, and perhaps wanted to say. Both of them knew that their service was needed, and they didn’t want to make the other worry more than was already the case. Y/N watched him leave with a sinking feeling in her chest.

He was one of a kind. Yes, he was a jackass. And he could be arrogant, rude. But he was also one of the kindest people she had ever met. One of the most brilliant. She had always said to her friend Lara, who kept on bugging her why Jack and her hadn’t gone out on a date yet, that she did love him. As a friend. Perhaps, even back then, in her heart, she knew that this wasn’t the entire truth. But they were at war, and love made life hard enough at peace.

It had no place for people going to war.

Turning around, after he had disappeared, she packed her things. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone. In a way, her world had already left.

Without going to see her parents, she went to the harbour. And left America for an adventure that she had not seen coming in her dreams. She wouldn’t serve in Britain as a codebreaker. Or in Britain, at all.

She’d be headed to Germany.

All the while, Jack would end up half-way across the world, in the middle of the freaking Pacific.

……………

Getting ready for the first night at basic training, Jack tried to stay  so focused on all the new information and code of conduct that it would keep his mind off the many things that circled in his mind. That only worked so well, apparently. He heard a scoff from one of the other boys in his room, so he turned around to face him.

“What’s her name?”

“What?”, Jack frowned, confused what he was getting at.

“A man with your woeful stare”, the man sat down on his bed, “just left a gal behind. What’s her name?”

“I didn’t”, Jack replied, thinking back to him saying goodbye to Y/N. yeah, she was a girl, but not like that.

“Sure you did, I can see it from here”, the man grinned, “I’m Felix, by the way. So, Jack, right? Who’s she?”

“I have no idea what you’re getting at”, Jack answered dryly, “she’s just someone I grew up with. I had the foresight not to get into a relationship before being shipped off to war.”

“Hm”, Felix shrugged, “don’t want to have someone wait for you at home?”

“I’m sure a bunch of people will still be waiting.”

“Yeah, but not like that.”

“I’m sure Y/N will be there to inform me that I’ve done something particularly stupid if I do get back.”

Felix raised an eyebrow: “Y/N, huh?”

Not entirely sure why he even shared her name, Jack got out his wallet to pull out the small picture from his graduation, where, amongst a crowd of mostly men, Y/N stood out like… he had no idea what. She just stood out, at least she did to him.

“Yeah, that’s her”, he showed the other guy whose lips curled into a telling smile.

“Ah, I can see”, Felix grinned, “just a childhood friend, then.”

“Yes”, Jack took back the picture and clenched his jaw. “Just a childhood friend.”

………

Room 21E. Y/N knocked against the wooden door, only to be greeted by a voice telling her that she could come in. The woman inside was bent over a textbook, her brown hair concealing her face. When Y/N entered, she turned around and smiled.  

“You must be Y/N, correct?”

Y/N nodded and reached out her hand to greet the woman. “You’re Peggy?”

“Exactly. It would appear we are roommates”, the woman replied and shook her hand.

Y/N looked around: “When did you arrive? Long time ago?”

“No, just a few days, actually. I only took up the SOE position after months of deliberation.”

“I see”, Y/N placed her bag on the free bed, “you far away from home?”

“Not nearly as far as you are, darling”, Peggy replied warmly, “It isn’t that far to Kent.”

“I can assure you”, Y/N said dryly, “I may be far away from the place I grew up with, but it ain’t home anymore. Seems like everything I knew went to war, or changed with the outbreak of it.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Y/N heard the sadness in the young woman’s voice.

“Your parents not happy you’re here, too?”, Y/N asked cautiously, sitting on her bed with raised eyebrows.

Peggy gave a thin smile. “Livid, actually.”

“Likewise”, Y/N pressed her lips together, “actually, they informed me that they’re disowning me. Not that that’s much of a worry. They don’t have that much for me to inherit anyways.”

Y/N and Peggy talked a lot on that day. The Englishwoman was incredibly interested to hear about life in America, and Y/N indulged her for a bit. She told her that she didn’t have any siblings, that she spent most of her time in New York.

“What did you do before the SOE?”, Peggy eventually asked after telling Y/N about her entrance into Bletchley Park some months ago ��� the reason she was back in training now was for further training before being eligible in the structure of command of the SOE.

“University. I finished my degree just months before America entered the war”, Y/N replied, “worked a side-job to finance the studies and the expenses.”

“What’s that like? I imagine less strict regulations than we had in Cambridge.”

“For leisure?”, Y/N asked and scoffed, “truth be told, I might have preferred stricter rules for that. Would’ve spared me a few nights as the responsible adult.”

That statement seemed to confuse her new roommate rather than clarify things, so she added: “I didn’t have the most responsible of friends. He had the tendency to get into heaps of trouble that was wildly unnecessary.”

Peggy’s eyebrows shot up and she gave Y/N a smile. “A friend, huh?”

‘Oh my God, it’s like Lara all over again’, Y/N thought before clearing her throat. “Yeah. We were friendly. I suppose he’s somewhere in California now. You see – becoming a solider apparently wasn’t cool enough for him. He had to enlist with the Marines.” She pressed her lips together. “Like I said. Not the most reasonable of people.”

“What’s his name?”

Y/N huffed. “Jack Thompson. So if you ever see someone mentioned with that name from New York, take cover.” She had no idea how prophetic that statement should become.

“You’re worried, huh?”

“About him, about us, or about the world?”, Y/N asked back, “Because the answer is the same for all three of those things. Very.”

“And why would I have to seek cover?”, Peggy asked with a humorous glean to her eyes.

Y/N scoffed at the question. “Because he has a bad temper, tends to speak too fast for his own good, and until you get to know him, you’ll probably be convinced he is an absolute asshole.”

Again, the prophetic nature of that statement was lost to both women at the time.

“And you got to know him.”

“I grew up with him, I didn’t have much of a choice”, Y/N evaded.

“I see”, Peggy’s tone was telling – telling Y/N that she probably had the same doubts about this story that Lara had had – “Simply a childhood friend, then.”

“Exactly”, Y/N agreed with a smile, thankful that they could simply agree on the vagueness of that statement, “Simply a childhood friend.”

 Neither of them had lied. They weren’t more than childhood friends, they hadn’t ever held hands, they had never formally had a date – and still, they had shared everything. From silly worries about exams, to family drama, to dreams and fears of the future. That hadn’t suddenly changed when Pearl Harbour had been hit. It had started to change in 1939 with the start of the war in Europe. Slowly, dreams started to slip away. The future began to fade. It became a moment of existential crisis. They had pushed each other to finishing their degrees in the face of war, and possibly, that was the only reason they managed to graduate with flying colours.

And now they were here.

One in London, one in California, training for war. Not knowing if they’d ever see each other again.

That was the brutality of it all. There was no certainty anymore. There was no guarantee for a tomorrow, or for a happy ending.

They were now in a fight for survival, because both of them wanted to come home. They wanted to go home victoriously.

And for that, they were willing to do anything. Anyone’s war was brutal, but theirs would turn out especially so. But they made good on their promise. They would return. But the blood on their hands would never be wiped away, no matter how often they tried to rinse it off.

They would not return as heroes, not in their own eyes, anyways.

But they would get to meet again. But no longer would they just be the childhood friends they once had been. That light-heartedness remained in a time before they had seen war. But neither of them ever could have guessed the path that the future had in store for them – the two childhood friends from New York.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little oneshot about them leaving for their respective training camps! Also, I do apologise for the vagueness around Peggy’s career - it is honestly incredibly confusing, because the MCU needs a better historical advisor (I VOLUNTEER). They mentioned her working for the SAS before working for MI5, but the SAS didn’t even exist at the time. And apparently she was a nurse in 1936, but she was born in 1921 - so she would’ve been rather young for that - especially because she also attended Cambridge?? Idk, I picked to make it sound as reasonable as possible! So forgive that vagueness, I tried hahaha. Sometimes they muck it up - like Jack asking Daniel if he lost his leg in Russia. Like, wtf, how should that have happened?? Even those who fought in the European theatre - No western allied soldier set foot on Russian soil as part of the liberation of Europe! The two armies met half-way

Also, yesterday, the last veteran of Iwo Jima passed away. Woody Williams, 98, who received the Medal of Honour, died on June 29th, 2022. 

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Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us 

Masterlist (book 1, and previous chapters) 

Chapter 9

Y/N made an effort to come up with a summary of her information that would be digestible in under multiple days’ worth of study, but she left some things out on purpose. For example, that during her time investigating, she had managed to find some ‘soldiers’ of the families that were willing to cooperate – for money, of course. She felt that sharing these names with her co-workers could work against her in the long run, or at least, work against the case she had built and hoped to pick up on at a later point. She trusted them, but the more people knew about a secret, the higher the probability became of someone spilling it by accident – drunk in a bar, or to their loved ones, or something. It also put them needlessly at risk, and she was pretty sure that she had enough blood on her hands for about ten lifetimes’ worth.

“Do you think it’s possible that it’s just a coincidence that the meeting’s in that area?”, Jack asked when she brought him the file.

“I don’t really want to bank on it”, she shrugged, “I wouldn’t know if there’s any connection between the crowd at our party and the mob, but then again, they’re interested in the same things. There might be more they have in common than what they don’t.”

Jack’s fingers drummed against the top of his desk as he skimmed the papers she had given him.

“Gives you a warm feeling knowing in what areas they’re working”, he remarked darkly, “from dumpster to suits manufacturing.”

“Yes, unfortunately the 1920s and 30s proved to have been great for business, and the war only secured their foothold”, Y/N commented, “many members came over to escape Mussolini. One of the stranger side-effects of fascism, I have to admit.”

“Any plans on switching professions and become a historian?”, he joked at her background delivery.

“Who knows, might pay just as badly as our job, but with significantly less gunshot-wound potential”, she retorted cynically, “besides, understanding how the current situation came to be is quite important. The landscape changed dramatically over just a few years, from Irish and Jewish gangs to an almost-monopoly from the Italians.”

Jack only scoffed: “So you could say Prohibition was a shot in the foot.”

“Very.”

“Does anyone know you?”, he inquired, “from the Mafia?”

Y/N tilted her head: “Not anyone that’s in the ability to stir any trouble.” She saw his questioning look and only winked.

“They’re dead?”

She nodded – many of them were, others were still alive, but not a threat either, because they wouldn’t rat on her, knowing the leverage she held against them.

“I’ll go through this”, Jack lifted the file, “then I’ll brief the rest.”

……

Going to these types of fairs was something the ordinary person never got to experience – and despite them being everything but ordinary, it wasn’t something that happened to Y/N and Jack on the regular, either. He had one up on her with Chadwick’s fundraiser, and that ended up in disaster. Good thing Underwood, Chadwick and Masters were all dead by now. Made a repeat incredibly difficult. However, Y/N still felt a sense of dread when she put on her dress for the night, which felt like something that should be worn by someone within the European nobility, certainly not a girl from New York that was more familiar with different knife-fight techniques than with ballroom etiquette.

Her dress was black, held up by thin straps and with decorative fabric draped across her chest and below her shoulders, and the fabric of her bust was decorated by reflective rhinestones. The skirt was looser, which allowed for easier movement – as well as a place to hide a weapon, as – unfortunately – she did not have the luxury of being able to hide her weapon in a shoulder girdle beneath a suit jacket.

Not certain if she liked what she saw in the mirror as it was such a foreign picture, reminding herself of the feeling looking at her reflection when she had to dress appropriate for German fairs in the 1940s, Y/N pulled a face before continuing to apply her lipstick. There was nothing she could do about it now – and she still preferred to go there, even dressed like this, rather than sending Jack with his men on their own.

Then, she walked out, into the living room of her apartment, where Jack was waiting for her to arrive. He looked up, raising his eyebrows.

“Not a word”, she hissed, knowing more than well she looked like a painted doll.

“What do you think I was about to say?”

“No idea”, she scoffed, “maybe that I look like a girl playing dress-up.”

“You look far too classy for dress-up”, he replied, holding up his arm for her to hold, more out of amusement at her mood, rather than thinking he needed the stability.

She sighed, looking at his suit: “Well, so do you. You’ll blend right in.”

“I’d return the compliment, but I’m sure you’d always stand out in a crowd. Anyways, I’d kiss you, but I’d ruin your look, and mine”, Jack said with a grin before leading her outside to his car.

“You’ve got the list of the Club members that should be there?”, Y/N asked, having herself studied it extensively beforehand.

“Yes, mother.”

Y/N huffed: “Wonderful. Because they’ll prefer talking to you than to me, I fear.”

Jack threw her a look: “They’re men, Y/N. They’d love talking to someone like you.”

“Like me?”, she shook her head, “I doubt they think I even have a brain.”

“Well, for most of them, other assets count more.”

She pulled a face: “Unfortunately, that will hardly help to figure out if they’re planning to blow up a city or something.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me that people do anything for love?”, he asked back with a lopsided grin.

“I’m not planning on making Mr. Hayes one of my next targets. At least not that way”, she shot back cynically.

“I wouldn’t allow that.”

She whipped her head around to face him: “What?”

Jack frowned: “D’you think I’d let them do the thing with you?”

“I think we’d do anything to finish a case”, she shrugged, “I mean, we’ve literally stormed buildings.”

“Yeah”, he scoffed, “I’d rather storm his facilities than resort to the other option.”

She knew where he was coming from, but she also knew that, in the big picture, it wasn’t necessarily rational. If it came down to it, the risks of another home invasion might very well be bigger than if she’d do it her way, though the thought of it alone was enough to gross her out.

“Thank the lord we didn’t have a thing before I went to Germany”, she remarked dryly, “it was difficult enough to not get married to them.”

“How’d you do it? Staying with them, I mean”, the question sounded sincere, not accusing at all. He knew very well that she had to do it.

“Honestly?”, she gave him a tight smile, “I thought about the moment when I’d get to kill them.”

“I really hope you let go of that habit with me.”

She boxed him in the arm: “Very funny, Thompson.” He only laughed, given she herself was obviously not offended and was grinning, too.

They pulled over in front of the establishment, where they met up with McKinley and Harrow, who were similarly dressed to Jack.

“Perimeter is secured”, McKinley informed, “All clear, till now.”

“Great. You know the drill, you head in, don’t show your weapons, get a feel for the crowd, ask the right questions”, Thompson said quietly, looking at the entrance, which was guarded by two well-built men.

“And let me do the talking”, he added, pointing to the men with his chin.

Jack walked up to the guards, flashing them his batch: “We’re here to have a look around, not to cause any trouble. You okay with that?” He was clearly insinuating that if they weren’t okay with his plan, he’d cause them more serious problems, so reluctantly, they granted the group of four entrance.

Y/N scanned the room. Aside from several members she recognised from the list of Arena Club members – incidentally, Mr. Hayes was present – she recognised some as most definitely being ‘soldiers’. She could see it in the way they stood outside of the main crowd, more observing than engaging with the guests.

“Careful”, she whispered to Jack before making her way towards the former Frost-associate, “don’t get your shoes filthy.”

She hoped that he got her euphemism, but she also knew that he was an excellent agent. He’d be fine.

“Mr. Hayes?”, she asked, mustering up a convincing smile, “I did see correctly!”

He eyed her, obviously asking himself if he knew her from somewhere.

“Oh, don’t worry, we haven’t met”, she said, doing her very best to adopt a German accent in her English, “Erika Neuhausen. I’ve seen you a few times in Los Angeles.”

He gave her a smile and kissed her hand: “I see. What were you doing in L.A.?”

“I moved there in the late 30s”, she gave him a telling look, “it was a better place to further my career than back at home, if you understand what I mean.”

It really wasn’t that difficult to understand what she was insinuating, but she also didn’t know how witty her conversation partner was.

“Of course”, he nodded and eyed her from top to bottom, leaving her feeling incredibly exposed, “You work in the show business, I assume?”

She supposed that she was dolled up enough to fit into that category this evening, and she gave him a small nod.

“Maybe the next Miss Dietrich?”, he asked curiously, and she was happy that he at least bought her act of being German.

“Oh, you flatter me immensely.” She leaned forward, more than aware that he probably saw deeper into her décolletage than she would have liked: “Tell me, Mr. Hayes, what does a man like you do in New York? Is local politics not a bit too dull for someone with your status?”

“Sweetheart, every seat matters, no matter from which coast or state.”

She tilted her head: “Oh yes?” She knew she couldn’t press him too hard, otherwise he’d grow suspicious, so she decided to pull the foreigner card. “What’s some of the more pressing political matters of the day, Mr. Hayes?”

“A lady like you doesn’t have to bore herself with it”, he gave her a pitiful smile, “You should enjoy the amenities of this event.”

“Oh, I will, I’m sure”, she sighed dramatically, “But you see, ever since I came here, I felt like a stranger to those around me. Maybe you can help with that.”

“There are two things that drive this country, money and power”, he said cryptically, “they’re usually behind every political decision that is made. The key is to be on the right side of power.”

She would have loved to tell him that she wasn’t interested in a riddle, but knew that she couldn’t say that. So instead of showing him her annoyance, she gave him an intrigued smile: “Power, Mr. Hayes, might just be the one universal currency.” She looked around, pretending to spot someone in the distance. “I’ll leave you to it, then, Mr. Hayes. It was an immense pleasure.”

She walked off, very happy not to see his smug face any longer. Arguably, she didn’t find out what he wanted, exactly, but whatever it was, it sounded ominous. Seemed like the Arena Club, decimation aside, still hadn’t given up on its goal to expand their own members’ power inside the country.

She spotted Jack talk to another member, and she could tell he was making an effort to engage with harmless small talk whilst teasing out the information he needed. She was about to make contact with him when a figure brushed past her, slipping her a note.

She pretended not to react, as she had a slight suspicion as to who it was that had slipped her the note. Once the man had walked past her, she looked to the side, seeing him disappear into the crowd. It was, as she had suspected, Anthony Lorenzo. One of her informants.

Y/N made her way to the restrooms, where she was able to open his note without being watched. She initially damned him for his ugly handwriting, which was almost harder to read than a German code.

Remember, Remember the 5th of November.

November was still a bit away, but she had no idea what he meant by that. Did they have something planned for the 5th of November? Or was it meant to be a code for something?

Storing the note in her bra, she left the restroom to re-enter the crowd again.

……

Jack was talking to George Heath, the CEO of one of America’s biggest manufacturer of artillery, who – as it turned out – was also a member of the Club Jack had grown to hate.

“You’ve been in the war, son?”

He had no real intention on sharing any war stories with the man, but he also knew that there was little more that impressed men like this than being told about one’s time at the front.

“Of course”, he nodded, “It was my duty, after all. Though I have to admit, unfortunately, all the artillery in the world didn’t really help us against the Japanese on Iwo Jima.”

The mention of the by now infamous battle brought a sense of admiration to the man in his mid-to-late 50s: “So I’ve heard. Don’t mean it never will, Mr. Thompson, I can assure you, my scientists are working day and night to provide even more lethal weaponry to the US Armed Forces.”

Jack took a sip from his drink and gave the man a tight smile: “I’d hope no one’d be dumb enough to attack us now, with us being the only ones with nuclear bombs at our disposal.”

“Until now!”, Heath’s face darkened, “You know how these things go, think back to poisonous gas. One side uses it, soon enough, everyone uses it. The key is to always stay ahead of the cattle.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Heath.” He noted to himself that though Mr. Heath sounded like a man who’d sell his soul for an edge over his competitors, he didn’t sound like he was in bed with communists.

“You know, Vernon told me a lot about you”, Heath continued, and Jack gave his best grieving face.

“Only good stuff, I hope, God bless his soul.”

“It was a tragic accident indeed”, Heath agreed, “Unusual, too. I tried getting a look at the report of what weapon caused it, but the feds wouldn’t say. You know something about that, son?”

“I’m afraid not much more than you do, Mr. Heath”, Jack evaded, “And if I’m honest, even if the scientists did explain it to me, I’m no artillery expert. Some sort of cannon, I think.”

“Yes, something in that manner.”

He looked around: “Son, ever thought about entering the world of politics?”

Jack scoffed at the question: “About as much as I have thought about getting into a pool with hungry sharks. No, sir, I’d rather serve my country, rather than run it.” He bit his tongue not to add – run it to the ground, which is what he suspected would happen if these guys took over the wheel.

“Who’d you vote for in the last election?”

“The last election?”, Jack frowned at the question, “well, Roosevelt. That was 1944. Didn’t think a leadership change during a war was that smart, you know? Also, we didn’t really have time to get a good look at the other candidate. Given we were trying not to die.”

“What’d you think of Truman?”, the question was enough to indicate that Heath himself would rather have someone else in office – which was obvious from the start, considering they were at a convention of the opposite party.

“I try to abstain from judging my employer, Mr. Heath”, Jack said with a small grin, “wouldn’t want to risk being booted.”

“With that tongue of yours you could’ve become a diplomat, too.”

Jack internally thought to himself that he would have made the worst diplomat in the world, but that he at least now knew what this guy wanted out of the next election: Truman gone.

“Thank you, sir”, he replied with a nod, seeing Y/N emerge from the restroom and meeting his gaze.

“If you need the SSR”, he grabbed a business card, “this is our line.” After he removed himself from Heath, he made his way across the room to meet Y/N, because he was more than certain she wanted to tell him something.

“You find anything?”

She gave him no response and instead looked in the direction of Heath: “Good chat?”

“As to be expected”, he shrugged, “Talked to half the men on our list. Doubt they’re in the Commie Camp.”

“Yes”, she tilted her head, “I don’t think that’s their Camp, either.”

She was still mulling over what the hell the 5th of November could be. It was no holiday, it was a regular Wednesday. She wasn’t aware of anything particular happening that day, either.

“Now you’re brooding.”

McKinley approached them, informing Jack that he and Harrow had talked to the rest of the list, and that everyone appeared – more or less – clear. And, besides Hayes, none of them seemed to have any idea of what happened in L.A. and with Whitney Frost. Apparently, neither Hugh Jones, nor Hayes had any interest in sharing these details with their colleagues.

“A’right”, Jack declared, “then let’s leave.” He had a pretty decent idea of which men’s companies should be monitored by SSR agents in the future – Heath definitely among them.

In the car, Y/N finally opened her mouth to share her finding.

“I got this”, she started, awkwardly getting the note out of her bra.

“You don’t got a bag for this?”, Jack noted, a bit embarrassed by the manoeuvre.

“A bag can be stolen, a bra is far less likely to end up in the hands of men I don’t invite to hold it”, she snapped, “And besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before and I can’t see anyone else looking.”

He cleared his throat: “And what’s it say?”

“That’s the thing, I have no idea. It says ‘remember, remember the 5th of November’, which sounds like the start to some stupid children’s song”, she shrugged.

“Where’d you find it?” He frowned, asking himself why someone would walk around with a line from a song to a formal event, only to accidentally drop it.

“I didn’t find it, per se”, she said, stretching out her words, “I was given it.”

“What?”, Jack shot her a confused look, “By whom?”

“By my informant?”, she said high-pitched, “inside the Mafia?”

“And you didn’t think that this was a detail worth sharing??”, he shot back, visibly annoyed, “that we have insiders in there?”

“It didn’t compromise anything, did it?”, she retorted, “Besides, I wanted to minimise the risk of it getting out. If anyone knows, he’s dead and we lose on of our most crucial informants.” She ignored his frustration and continued: “But, nonetheless, I have no idea what he meant by that. Nothing is scheduled to happen on November 5th, and it’s just a normal Wednesday, in my opinion.”

Jack sighed, choosing not to give her a lecture today about the fact that she didn’t get to decide what information was worth sharing with her chief and instead briefed her about his own findings: “One thing all of them have in common is that they hate the Reds, but they also hate our own politics.”

“I still have no idea how that ties in with the mob”, Y/N announced, “unless they have some sort of common goal. Whatever that is, though, I have no idea.”

Entering her apartment, Y/N was about to get off her shoes when Jack interrupted her with a lopsided grin: “If we’re already dressed for the occasion, it would be a shame if we didn’t at least have one dance.”

She owned a phonograph, but she hardly used it, so she had no idea what music would start when Jack turned the thing on. It was a slow song, and it was classical music. When she saw his hand reaching out to her, she accepted with a smile. He was still a fantastic lead, and she enjoyed the nearness.

“And for the record”, he said before spinning her, “I don’t think you look like a girl playing dress-up. You look gorgeous, Y/N.”

........

Y/N had checked everything, from local fairs to national conventions, nothing happened on the 5th of November, at least nothing that was publicly planned. Frustrated, she placed down her notes as the phone rang.

“Y/N L/N, SSR, with whom-“

“am I speaking, hi Y/N!”, Peggy ended her never-changing greeting with a laugh, “You sound miserable, if I’m allowed to say so. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, and that is exactly my problem”, Y/N muttered, “We’re chasing down a lead with the Arena Club and our lead is very unhelpful.”

“Is the subject not speaking?”

“No, that’s not the problem”, Y/N rubbed the bridge of her nose, easing the headache that she had given herself by squinting all day, “It’s a note that doesn’t make sense. And it’s not even encoded, if you can believe it!”

“Is it a foreign language?”

“No, it’s in English.”

“What does it say then?”, she inquired curiously.

“Remember, remember, the 5th of November.”

Y/N was taken aback by the silence that greeted her. “Peggy, you still there?”

“Y/N”, she heard Peggy’s voice again, “it didn’t happen to be a political fair, did it?”

“Yeah”, she frowned, “Why’d you guess that?”

“Because”, Carter cleared her throat, “that’s a poem. Remember, remember the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent, to blow up the King and Parli'ment.”

Now, it was Y/N whose voice failed.

“Y/N-“

“Peggy, thank God you’re English”, Y/N announced, “I think I know what the plan is. I’ll call you back!”

She jumped up, walked straight into Jack’s office, throwing open the door without knocking.

“Whoa, ever heard of knocking?!”

“You said they hate our politics”, she reminded him, “correct?”

He frowned at her, visibly confused: “Yeah?”

“But they don’t hate the entire political system, they just hate the president”, Y/N expanded, obviously waiting for him to catch on, but unlike her, he didn’t just talk to Carter.

“What are you on about, Y/N?”

“The 5th of November, you genius!”, she exclaimed, “It’s not about the date, it’s about the action! Taking down the head of state!”

A/N: As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter - if you did, I highly appreciate every comment, reblog, any sort of feedback, or simply a heart. It all helps! Also, I promise this is going somewhere. I have a plan for overarching enemy and everything, even if it might sound all a bit random still! And you’ll get some more about Y/N’s and Jack’s time before the war, too, so there’s that to look forward to! 

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