agent rogers • j. thompson

cornelia street.

we were a fresh page on the desk
filling in the blanks as we go

—
CHARLOTTE ROGERS

Peggy approached me with her eyebrows raised when she arrived at work.

She very quietly told me that Jack and Daniel were at Stark's mansion.

"The license plate!" I gasped.

She shushed me and at that very moment, I saw Jarvis being pulled into the interrogation room.

I began to worry about what Jack might do to our trusted companion. I shared a brief look with Peggy, who somehow kept a neutral face.

She motioned with her head that we should go watch the interrogation. I took a deep breath and followed her.

I found out much more about Jarvis than I ever wished to, but so far things seemed to be going alright. Mr. Jarvis was surprisingly calm, cool, and collected.

Jack placed the license plate from the car and the shoe I had lost that night in front of him.

My eyes widened and I exchanged a nervous glance with Peggy.

She moved fast. She tricked Chief Dooley into signing a missing car report to get Jarvis out clean. Dooley was angry with her for interrupting, but it was well worth saving Edwin.

"Rogers, don't you have these same shoes?" Ray asked nonchalantly once Jarvis left and things settled down.

"Similar ones, yes." I answered calmly.

"So funny that you have shoes like a criminal." Ray said, actually seriously, too.

"Yes," I pretended to laugh.

"I wonder if it's the same size-"

"I have better and more important things to do than try on a random shoe picked off of a crime scene — and stop staring at my feet!"

These men actually believed me, that this wasn't my shoe.

They were so stupid sometimes.

Scratch that — all the time.

I spent the rest of the workday at my desk, bouncing my leg anxiously.

In the evening, I was allowed to join Peggy and Jarvis. At the end of the sewer, we discovered a ship bearing the symbol Mr. Brannis left us.

Jackpot.

Feigning an American accent, Jarvis called in an anonymous tip about the man at the Heartbreak ship to Agent Sousa. The three of us then shuffled into one of Mr. Stark's cars.

I was staring off into space, thinking deeply, until fingers were snapping in front of my face.

"Charlotte!" Peggy yelled.

"Huh? Where are we?"

"Your apartment...."

"Oh right, thank you."

I unbuckled the seatbelt and tried to get out of the car, but Peggy stopped me.

"What is going on with you? You are never like this."

"It's nothing, I'm just a bit stressed, that's all. Night Peggy, night Jarvis!"

I smiled and slipped out of the car to my apartment.

I felt different. I hadn't felt extremely sick for a while. But my body felt different.

I needed to find out what it was in that shot.

—
PEGGY CARTER

When I arrived back at my home at the Griffith, Angie asked to hear about my day. She became really upset when I kind of blew her off.

I felt horrible, but I couldn't actually tell her about my day and I wasn't really in the mood for talking.

Our heated argument was interrupted when the head lady of the complex came down the hallway to introduce us to someone.

"Meet your new neighbor, Dorothy Underwood."

"Please, call me Dottie!" She said cheerily, extending her hand.

I shook it and Angie walked off, still angry at me. I dismissed the two ladies and slipped into my room.

Dottie looked confused but probably shook it off, considering she seemed incredibly bubbly.

The next day at work, I arrived to find the phone operators quietly weeping.

When I stepped into the office, I was told what I already knew — that Ray Krezminski was dead. There were flowers laid on his desk, and I saw Charlotte quietly placed a cup of coffee on his desk. My eyes welled with tears, but I didn't let them fall.

Dooley walked out and announced, "Ray Krezminski would be alive today if it weren't for Howard Stark. Whether he pulled the trigger or not, he's the reason we are in this mess."

Charlotte and I exchanged subtle looks with each other, before we quickly looked away with troubled expressions.

I was really shaken up, even after I left work to go to the AutoMat.

I sat down in front of Angie. At first, she looked upset to see me, but I told her that I wanted to tell her about my day.

I told her that my colleague had died, though I had to say it was from a heart attack. I told her that he was a bit of a jerk, but that his death still really affected me.

It was nice to talk to someone on the outside of everything. Of course, I could tell Charlotte anything, and she was usually a great comfort. But with everything else she was going through, talking to Angie about things in vaguely different terminology was cathartic.