[Jack Thompson] (The things they don't know about) Miss Tonya

[ 2 3 : p l e a s a n t - s u r p r i s e s ]

[☆]

Warnings: Mention of Nazis, mention of death and sexism (please see Author's Note below)

Spoilers: Agent Carter Season 1

Author's Note: I just want to say here that I am in no way trying to excuse Jack's sexism in this chapter or in this book at all. I wouldn't be writing this story if he didn't have character development and was just a permanent misogynist, but I also didn't want to ignore his misogyny, because that wouldn't be fair either. I've tried to address it in this chapter and as, like others, it's written in a way that it's kind of from his point of view, it has his own twisted perspective on the situation, but if I've failed to address it properly or offended anyone at all with this chapter, please do not hesitate to let me know so that I can amend it as soon as possible. I am ofc not a misogynist – though that goes without saying – and it was never my intention to offend anyone with my work, so I apologise in advance if anyone feels that way.

[☆]

Jack's day had been full of pleasant surprises, and he still had a few hours left of his shift. He'd come in to work early, as per usual – it was certainly more interesting than staying at home. Jack prided himself on being the first agent there, and so he always wondered how he found Chief Dooley looking like he'd already been working for hours even before Jack arrived. This time the reason was obvious, and it came in the form of a pinboard of evidence that Dooley was glaring at like some mad conspiracy theorist.

"You've been working all night on the Stark case?" he'd asked as he approached the Chief. The enquiry felt slightly hypocritical; it seemed he wasn't the only one being kept awake with their mind on a Stark.

Dooley had informed him that he'd come to one too many dead ends in regards to the Battle of Finow, a battle in which two of the fatalities of this case had apparently already died in. "Our intelligence indicates the Russians were overrun by a Nazi regiment at the Battle of Finow led by this man," Jack had followed him into his office where Dooley had handed him a file. "Colonel Ernst Mueller."

The Chief was going to ask a man due to be executed what he knew about some mysterious battle. It seemed they truly were running low on leads. "You're going all the way to Germany? What's some Nazi gonna tell us about Howard Stark?"

"I got two Russians who both reportedly died in Finow only to show up alive here looking for Stark's gizmos. Nobody, including our own government, wants to talk about what really happened in Finow."

It was a fair point, and not one Jack was about to argue with, especially not when Dooley appointed him acting Chief as he shook his hand farewell.

The next surprise had not appeared so pleasant at first and, in fact, Jack wasn't sure it was entirely pleasant by the end either. While he'd been discussing various files and potential leads with a group of agents, Sousa had walked by pulling along a handcuffed man that could only be described as worse for wear. He certainly didn't look like a valuable use of their time.

He'd jeered in front of the other men to hide his irritation: "Hey look, Agent Sousa found Howard Stark – we can all rest now!" before going over to berate the agent as he directed the man inside the interrogation room. Sousa was insisting the man was a witness to the events at the dock and might have even seen who'd sent them the anonymous tip.

Jack wasn't convinced at first, but Sousa was an admittedly good agent when it came down to it. This fact had plagued his mind for most of the day, and so he'd come in with his own offer to the potential witness when Sousa's sympathy play had failed. He only had to show the guy a sandwich and a drink and he was practically ranting about what he saw.

"There was a guy – duds all fancy – he was with two women. They got on and off the boat before police showed up."

Daniel held up a photo they'd got of a blonde woman from Spider Raymond's club the night he was killed. "Were either of them this woman?"

The witness peered at the photo disinterestedly. "Nah, they both had dark hair."

Daniel had been disappointed, but Jack thought it was something. He didn't say in so many words – that would mean admitting he was wrong, and he wasn't about to do that. It would also mean potentially giving away which dark haired woman had first sprung to mind when the man had mentioned that fact, but it couldn't be her.

The next surprise had been Peggy – again, not so pleasant – working far too late and dashing into a room she clearly believed to be empty.

"Marge?"

He'd said it as more of a declaration than a question and she'd jumped as she turned and finally noticed he was in the room.

"Didn't I say only the men have to work overtime?" he questioned as he retrieved the drink he'd bribed the witness with earlier from the waste basket.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you enjoying the rewards of your promotion." She indicated the bottle in his hand with her eyebrows and he nodded sarcastically.

She'd turned to leave, but he hadn't noticed as he set the waste basket down again. "Why do you work here?"

Her answer had been immediate and efficient: so perfectly British. "To uphold democracy. Did you need a reminder?"

It had also been a dissatisfying answer, and so he'd prodded further as he took a sip of the scotch. Unsurprisingly, there was hardly any left, but it was strong enough for him to feel temporarily lighter in its effects. "But the rest of us get to do more than take lunch orders." He honestly wondered what she did for the rest of the day.

"You'll never know the thrill of learning whether or not Agent Yauch is in the mood for a club sandwich." she'd reasoned sardonically.

Jack had chuckled to himself and he recalled how he'd spent his last few lunches; he wondered if Peggy had noticed his absence when she'd gone round collecting the orders. "Hm. You're trying to hide something, Peggy," Hypocrite, again. "and the only one you're fooling is you."

Little did he know, the agent's blood had run cold at this statement. He failed to notice, in his slightly heady state, how her hand had crept to the doorknob as she was practically itching to leave the room. "and what's that, Agent Thompson?" Her voice had been strained, but he hadn't realised that either.

"The natural order of the universe," he'd stated simply, as though that alone was everything she needed to know. When she'd appeared rightfully confused, he'd continued. "You're a woman: no man will ever consider you an equal," He'd spread his arms as though he'd just proclaimed some kind of ground-breaking philosophy and sat down on the edge of the interrogation desk. "It's sad, but it doesn't make it any less true." he shrugged.

"I can always come to you for the truth," she'd sighed, finally opening the door. "Good night."

When she'd slipped out, Jack had returned to the scotch, which, to his disappointment, he'd found empty. Chucking the bottle back into the waste basket, he'd risen from the table and walked back through the bullpen to his temporary office. As he'd come to the window to close the blinds, an agitated figure on the street below had caught his eye. Peering down, he'd come to the surprising conclusion that it was none other than a rather distressed Tonya Stark, pacing around as though it was not unusual for her to be by herself in the middle of the city at this time of night. What had struck him most was that she did not appear to have even attempted to disguise herself, like she had on every single one of their meetings, as she marched very conspicuously back and forth along a very public road.

To his annoyance, the conversation he'd just had with Peggy floated back into his mind as he looked down from the window and he involuntarily imagined himself saying what he'd said to Tonya instead. Shaking his head as though to clear it, he grabbed his hat and coat and marched towards the elevator before she could pace away altogether.

Here was his last pleasant surprise of the day.

[☆]