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Peggy examines herself in the mirror. Her fingers trailing across her ligature marks. Inside her head she hears the attacker's breath. The sound of the rope rubbing across her neck, and even the crack of her elbow. She cannot break free of the visage, it plays over and over. But it twists, turning into a picture of her real failures. Steve, Dooley, and then Jason.
"Miss Carter?" The voice calls out from her room's threshold. She can't discern if it originates from inside her head or if someone actually waits outside her door. A tendril of fear creeps down her bruised back, hallucinations are never a good sign. She remembers a young soldier not older than twenty-two. They placed him on the front lines for months without rotation. The first day back after nine-months he shot up his friends believing they were Germans. Her nails worm their way into her rough palms, pain blocks out the noise.
"Peggy?" She turns looking to the crack under the door. She can't see a shadow. The blood covered sobbing boy comes back to life. Her fingers brush the metallic barrel of a .45 taped under the desk. She pulls it off, gripping it like a life-line. "Peggy, I would knock. But that's problematic at the moment and walking through your door would be uncouth. My parents raised a gentleman. Though," his voice holds an almost imperceptible tremble, "I'm not sure if that still applies."
She manages a strangled come in. Dr. Wilkes steps through the door. His predilection for analysis has him assessing the situation the moment he comes in to the room. He does not mention the gun she places back under the desk. Peggy recomposes herself into Agent Carter, needing to shield herself from his charm. His kind quirky personality.
"I wanted to thank you." Bloody hell, she can't escape him. She clears her throat turning towards him. He shifts on the balls of his feet, she wonders if he can sit or even sleep in that state. Peggy disregards her inquiry trudging forward in the conversation.
"I believe I should be apologizing to you Dr. Wilkes. It is my fault you're in this predicament." He frowns, his brows furrowing in a tinge of frustration and confusion. She can feel her mask slipping. It melts under courage and kindness; two traits he seems to brandish in full force.
"No, you don't." He huffs, "I know what you tried to do for me." His words twist inside Peggy's head, tried becomes failed. She failed him.
"Agent Carter," his formality draws her attention "I shadowed you since the Isodyne incident. You defend my reputation-"
"Any good person would." she interrupts.
"Maybe, but you were the one that did so. To the other agents, to your boss. Who is a piece of work by the way. You refused to let it rest. Even when it threatened your lively hood." The sincerity of his words cause her to falter. The desk grunts under her mass. Her shoulders crush under the weight of those she has failed. Even Jason, while not dead his phased form life-altering. Her nails dig into the cedar wood; she bows her head to avoid his gaze. He stands there motionless, providing support without vocalization. For a brief moment she imagines his hand holding hers. Their fingers intertwining while she curls into his chest. Her visage far from sexual but intimate nonetheless. In recent months she has learned that loneliness hurts, more than lacerations or bullet wounds.
A slight chill passes over her shoulders. She opens her eyes seeing an amalgamation of purple.
"I'm sorry I can't actually--" she shushes him and walks through him away from the desk. The grandfather clock tolls down stairs informing both of them of the late hour, he moves to bid her goodnight.
"Will you," her voice catches in her throat, "stay and tell me about your..research?" She cops out, finding it difficult to ask Jason about himself. But she wants him here, terrified he'll disperse back into the void. Lost to that abyss forever, or trailing her with no way to communicate. He agrees. Parts of his research she can comprehend but the more complex parts fly over her head like a B-17 fortress. They end up transversing an array of topics. Even Captain America creeps into the conversation. She doesn't hide the way her voice catches when she speaks about him. She has no doubt he noticed but Peggy realizes he won't push. For once an unattached man with no agenda but to enjoy her company and return to a corporeal state.
Somewhere in the midst of discussing their childhood antics she falls asleep. She wakes with a gay feeling. The bliss lasts for only a flash. Her eyes canvas the room. Dr. Wilkes has disappeared. She scrambles to get dressed flying down the stairs at a frantic pace. At the bottom of the steps she takes a deep breath, a panic attack would not be useful.
Inside the kitchen she finds Mr. Jarvis cooking eggs and bacon. He lets out an amused chuckle clearly in the midst of conversation. She spots his discussion partner--Dr. Wilkes. She breathes a small sigh of relief. Jason notices her lingering on the outskirts, his gives her an inquisitive look. But it disappears replaced by a gentle reassuring smile. She sits on a stool at the island. The one that happens to be the closest to Dr. Wilkes. Mr. Jarvis greets her before turning back to the food. He continues his story about the ill-tempered flamingo. Jason leans down.
"I should have informed you I was leaving. I had no intention to cause you concern." Peggy returns his apology with a smirk.
"I simply must get used to the fact you won't be disappearing on me any time soon." Her voice covers her worry well but he still stares.
"I have no plans to disappear on you. I saw reason after all." He flirts then returns his attention to Mr. Jarvis. The doctor providing new suggestions on how to capture the pink devil. She tunes out the conversation, content to glance at Dr. Wilkes with open affection at least while Mr. Jarvis's back stays turned. A few fears creep into the back of her mind, but Dr. Wilkes causes them to scatter. She figures she'll have to keep him around a bit longer, as an asset of course.