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The adrenaline from the previous fight was still pumping through (Y/N)'s veins, even as they rolled out of the facility's sight and disappeared into the thick, snow-covered forest. The aircraft that would take Thompson, Peggy, Ramirez and (Y/N) back to the States was already waiting for them, its propellers spinning in fast circles and lifting the snow off the ground.

"Good luck," Dugan said as he shook Thompson's hand in farewell. The latter was quite shocked by the words and could only respond with a polite 'thank you'.

Dugan had already moved onto the other man, also reaching to shake his hand. "Ramirez."

"It was an honor."

Ramirez joined Thompson on the walk to the aircraft, leaving Peggy and (Y/N) by themselves with their friends. (Y/N) had her palms together and was creating friction between them in order to warm her fingers, but her attempts were useless — if there was one thing she didn't miss from being out in the field, it was the cold she had to endure.

"You sure you want to get on that plane?" Dugan faced the two women, walking over to them. "Commandos can always use other good fighters. We just need to come up with the appropriate nicknames for you."

"As tempting as that is, I'll have to decline," (Y/N) flashed him an apologetic smile. "It's time I put my days on the front lines behind me."

"Besides, someone needs to mind the wheel back in the States," Peggy added, elbowing (Y/N) playfully. "And I suppose someone needs to convince the SSR of Howard's innocence, wanker or not."

(Y/N) raised her arms to envelop Dugan in a farewell hug. "I'll miss you."

"Miss you too," he accepted the gesture and responded with the same amount of affection. When (Y/N) pulled back, he moved toward Peggy to do the same.

"Wait a second."

He paused for a moment, which made (Y/N) and Peggy look at each other with questioning looks.

"Miss 'U'. . .Miss Union Jack." Dugan exclaimed, his fingers pointing at Peggy with a smile. Then, his eyes moved to (Y/N). "Um. . .Miss. . .'Miss Liberty Belle'. What do you think, fellas? Huh?"

"Absolutely not."

"Never speak again."

"Okay," Dugan's shoulders deflated at his ideas being shut down. But then, he recovered by focusing his attention on the psychiatrist. "And, doc, what about you? Need a ride home?"

"Uh, I don't know where is home anymore."

"What do you think of New York?" Peggy asked him gently. "The SSR could use your help fighting Leviathan."

He restrained a grin, pleased with the idea. "I'll do anything I can."

"We'll keep Europe in one piece. Doc," he took a step forward to hand him a bottle of bourbon, the same bottle that was given to him an entire day ago. "Pleasure."

The psychiatrist inspected the bottle. "Oh. You wouldn't have any vodka?"

Dugan faced back at (Y/N), who had brought the bottle with her, and she could only give him an awkward look to answer his question.

"Desperate times, I suppose," the psychiatrist said as he brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig from it. It took him a few seconds to swallow it, but when he did, he began coughing uncontrollably at the bitter taste. "This is terrible. Might I have the rest?"

"It's all yours," (Y/N) told him with a smile.

She and Peggy began walking toward the aircraft in the middle of a clear area in between the forest, the psychiatrist following after them with the bottle of bourbon still clutched tightly in his hands.

There were no problems during takeoff, but (Y/N) still remained stubborn in not seating next to a window as she watched the aircraft take over the sky and leave the ground in a matter of seconds. Her hands were grasping onto each other tightly as she felt the plane move every now and then due to the strong wing outside. When she took a glance around the rest of the crew on the aircraft, she saw how perfectly relaxed they were. The psychiatrist had even fallen asleep, his arm cuddling the bottle of bourbon like it was a teddy bear. Everyone was relaxed, except for Thompson.

He was sat next to a window in the far off corner of the aircraft, distancing himself from everybody else. (Y/N) remembered the events inside the facility quite clearly, and she could understand why he was upset or probably disturbed by what had happened back there.

She knew he'd probably dismiss her with a rude comment, but (Y/N) wanted to check if he was in the right set of mind. Especially since they were going to meet up with Chief Dooley as soon as they landed in the States, and he wouldn't appreciate if she went up to the chief and told him exactly what had happened.

"You all right?" she asked quietly, lowering her tone so nobody else could hear it. She sat near him, but creating enough distance between them.

"Yeah." Thompson breathed out without lifting his eyes from the window he was staring at. "You saved a lot of necks back there. You saved mine."

(Y/N) shot him a teasing look. "Not bad for a phone operator."

"Pretty bad for the Navy Cross winner."

"Hey, everybody freezes at some point," she reassured. "The important thing is that you recovered. Not everyone has that luxury."

"They were carrying a white flag."

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows in confusion but didn't say anything, waiting for him to elaborate.

"The soldiers that came into my camp in Okinawa," he cleared off the doubt. "The ones I killed. They were coming to surrender. I just didn't realize it until it was too late. I buried the flag before anyone else saw it. Everybody thinks that I'm this guy that I never was. And every day. . .It gets harder and harder to live with."

(Y/N) stared at him as he retold the story from the night before, her eyes widening as she took in the new information. The Thompson in front of her was completely different from the one she had to put up with in the office, and now she understood why. She felt troubled about him — even if she could never forget his mean comments — she sympathized with him. The war had brought up the worst in people, including both of them.

"I've been trying to tell that story since I came home from war."

She didn't dare to meet his eyes. "You just did."

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"Agent Li died honorably in action." was the first thing Thompson said after Chief Dooley brought them back to his office for a debrief on what happened in Belarus.

He, (Y/N) and Peggy were standing on the other side of the chief's desk, pretty much the same way they were when discussing whether or not to let the women go on the mission. Although, this time, there was no high tension between any of them. It was a simple debrief with the boss, no remarks or backhanded comments that had (Y/N) in her fight or flight mode.

"It is my sworn duty as his commanding officer to deliver the condolences of the United States to his family." Thompson continued.

Chief Dooley removed his eyes from the bulletin  board on the wall with every piece of information about the case. "No Stark, no Leviathan."

"No, sir." Thompson shook his head. "But Agent Dewitt and Agent Carter were able to acquire intel about Leviathan from Dr. Ivchenko about the enemy's possible end game."

(Y/N) couldn't believe her ears. Her eyes flickered from Peggy to Thompson in a second. "We were able to retrieve him from a Leviathan prison. He wants to help the SSR in any way he can."

"But he doesn't think Stark's connected to Leviathan?"

"No," Peggy answered firmly. "And I don't, either."

"Noted."

"He may not have all the information, sir," Thompson tried to shift the conversation so the chief wouldn't think they went there for nothing. "He was working off Stark blueprints. Smart money says that Leviathan got them directly from Stark himself."

Chief Dooley noted and sat back into his chair. "Send the doctor in on your way out."

(Y/N) nodded her head at the dismissal and Thompson was the first to walk outside, leaving the door open enough for her and Peggy to slip out through.

Before she could properly get out of the office, Chief Dooley's voice returned. "Good work, Carter, Dewitt."

(Y/N) and Peggy found themselves smiling at the praise — a strange occurrence in this office.

"Thanks, sir."

"Thank you."

(Y/N) could jump up and down out of the excitement from Chief Dooley's words, but she contained every urge to do so. She instead reached for her coat on the hanger and slipped it on, watching as Peggy did the same. The majority of the precinct was empty, the darkness from outside being the reason why. The only people who were still by their desks were Ramirez and a couple of other agents who were chitchatting with Thompson on the other side of the room. Surprising to no one, Sousa was still in his desk, paperwork and manila envelopes displayed all over.

"How is it that you're the one who looks like he hasn't slept for two days?" Peggy broke the silence as she made her way to Sousa's desk.

He jumped up at her voice, his entire demeanor tense for no particular reason. "Just staying up late, worrying about you guys."

"You did good."

Even though his words were directed at both of them, (Y/N) noticed how his eyes were set on Peggy as he said them. She smiled at the gesture, one that he wasn't probably even aware of, and Peggy surely was too distracted to notice it.

"Thanks, Daniel," she whispered.

"Sousa, you coming?" Thompson's loud voice boomed through the quiet precinct. He already had his coat and hat on, ready to walk out into the street.  "You can buy me a drink for every Red I killed."

"Not tonight, Jack," Sousa flashed his friend an apologetic look. "Pillow's calling."

"Ah." He made a sound of disappointment before directing his attention to the other people standing near him. "Come on, Dewitt. You too, Carter."

(Y/N) was shocked at the invitation. It was the first time ever she and Peggy were invited to these kinds of celebrations; the activities they did to let loose after a heavy day in the office, mostly reserved for the men, were now including the only two women in the SSR. Why did it have to take an entire mission out in the field to get him to respect her?

"I owe you a bourbon," he smirked.

(Y/N) let out a strained chuckle at his words and how his eyes settled on her when he said them.

Peggy, on the other hand, was smiling brightly. "I'll be right there."

She turned her head to face (Y/N), silently asking if she was going to come along, to which she nodded as a response. Before they could take longer steps out the precinct, Peggy stopped on her tracks and turned to Sousa.

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

"Some other time," he replied. "Thanks."

"Right."

(Y/N) could feel the awkwardness in the interaction, her eyes going from Sousa to Peggy to see their individual expressions. Nobody dared to say a word after that, so she decided to take the matter into her own hands.

"Well, good night."

That made them snap back into reality. "Good night."

She and Peggy walked away from the desk and disappeared inside the elevator, the doors with the SSR emblem on them taunting Sousa as he watched them both leave his line of sight. When he made sure no one was looking, he turned his attention back to the photographs he had retrieved from the night Spider Raymond was killed, in which he could distinguish the figure of two women in completely different hair colors from the ones he was comparing them with. Every attempt to hide their identity was perfect, but there was a slight error in their plan — they forgot to cover their respective scars — which were visible in the photo.

As Sousa stared at it in between his hands, his mind didn't want to admit the truth, no matter how deeply he had dug out for it during the entire time they were gone. If what he was seeing was right — (Y/N) and Peggy had something to do with the death of Spider Raymond, probably involved in the many other events that had followed since that night.