the fbi enlists a group of teenagers with special talents to help solve cold cases. but suddenly, the cases aren't so cold.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
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III. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious
June gives Agent Carter the go-ahead to talk to her father. Her father calls her, asks her about it. Less than a week after she tells him this is what she wants, she gets word that Carter has obtained the necessary permissions. Her paperwork has gone through. That night, she quits her job at the diner. She takes a shower, changes into her pajamas, and prepares for World War III.
She's going to do this. She's known that from almost the moment that Agent Carter started speaking. June cares about her grandmother; she does. And she knows how hard her Nonna and the rest of the family try to make her feel loved, no matter how she came to them or how much of her mother is in her. But she's never really belonged here. A part of her never left that fateful theater: the lights, the crowd, the blood. Maybe she never will, but Agent Carter is offering her a chance to do something about it.
She might never solve her own mother's murder, but this program will turn her into the kind of person who can catch killers, who can make sure that another little girl, in another life, with another mother, will never have to see what June saw.
It's morbid and horrifying and the very last life the family has very imagined for her — and she wants it more than she's ever wanted anything.
June combs her fingers through her hair. Wet, it looks dark enough to pass for brown instead of red. The steam from the shower flushes some color into her usually-pale cheeks. Right now, she looks like the type of girl who could belong here, with this family.
With wet hair, she doesn't look so much like her mother.
"Chicken," she insults her own reflection, staring hard. She can stay here until her hair dries — in fact, she can stay here until her hair goes grey — but that won't make the conversation she's about to have any easier.
Downstairs, Nonna is curled up in her recliner in the living room, reading glasses perched on her nose and a large-print romance novel open in her lap. She glances up the second June steps into the room, her eagle eyes sharp.
"You are ready for bed early," she says, no small amount of suspicion in her voice. Nonna's successfully raised eight children. If June was the type to make trouble, there would be none that she could stir up that Nonna hasn't already seen.
"I quit my job today," June starts, and the sparkle in her grandmother's eyes tells her that those were the wrong words to lead with. "I don't need you to get me a new one," she adds hastily.
Nonna makes a dismissive sound under her breath. "Of course not," she grumbles. "You are independent. You do not need anything from your old Nonna. You do not care if she worries."
