1963-10-20 - In From The Cold
Summary: Ava decides to sign on with SHIELD.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
ava peggy sean 


It's been a strange few days to say the least. The reassignment came out of nowhere to Sean and before he even knew what was happening his belongings were packed up in boxes. His entire life as it were was then shipped off and now he's here, and the rest is who knows where. So with little to do and not really sure of what he should be doing before his new official life starts, he finds himself getting acquainted with the new protocols.
Of course in Sean's case getting acquainted with is really code for drinking. So he finds himself sitting at a stool in this not so random noodle house staring down at a glass of whiskey. He stares intently at it as if it holds the answer to how he ended up here, or to what comes next.

*

Ava hasn't been here in a while. She made her peace with SHIELD - sort of - and then she disappeared. Until she ran into Peggy Carter in the street the other day. The city has been a very strange place lately. Strange enough for her to consider the benefits of actually belonging to an organization. So, in her usual Goodwill-acquired jeans and sweater, she steps into the shop, frowning as she eyes the menu…and the clientele.

*

Keeping track of people entering and leaving is deeply engrained and Sean can't help glance up to a mirror over the bar to see Ava enter. Granted, considering the clientele, everyone is warily eyeing every single person entering, some more openly than others. Like many others Sean makes the mistake of assuming the young girl couldn't possibly be an agent so he assumes she is just some patron.
It's been all of what? Maybe a few hours since the rousing speech about not screwing things up here with his drinking and what is Sean doing? Obviously he is staring at a glass of whiskey at the SHIELD cover restaurant. Either he's really making a point about being honest about how much he's imbibing, or he's rubbing it in someone's face. At this point, he probably couldn't say which either.

*

Sean isn't the only one with instincts. It's just that Ava didn't so much…earn hers. All of them, at least. She's already counting exits, entrances, and what in the shop is actually nailed down. The menu? Is that- Surely there's some sort of system for allowing people inside, and it can't be as simple as walking up to someone and asking for Peggy Carter.

After a moment, she moves toward where Sean is sitting, leaning against the counter and glancing at his glass. "So…that's wonton soup, right?"

*

It's well after what general working hours are, not that the office is ever completely unmanned, but all senior staff has gone home (or should have) hours ago and just the skeleton crew to answer the phones is left. But, Peggy isn't regular senior staff. Despite family at home, there are still too many nights where she just has too much work at the end of the day. So, only now is she coming out of the back room, looking a touch fried around the edges, her dark hair (graying at the temples) having fallen flat from its usual curls and her suit jacket a bit wrinkled from the day. She murmurs a few works in Mandarin to the chef in the back room before crossing into the front area.

That's where she stops. While she planned to escape for the night, she sees two things that very much keep her in the room. Ava is there, after the brief encounter the other day, she absolutely wanted to speak to the woman. Sean is also. With booze. She arches a single, slightly stern brow in his direction. No lecture, but he's certainly getting A Look.

*

Sean glancing down at his drink, it sadly takes him a second before he smirks and turns his head to the young woman. "Aye, it's Irish wonton soup.. house special." He now allows himself more of an appraising glance at the young woman. Maybe she is more than he first thought? "I'd offer ye one, but I don't think yer of age lass."
Peggy doesn't escape his notice, nor does her arch eyebrow of dissapproval. And then it comes to him, yup, he was defintely doing this to make a point. He doesn't overplay it by raising his glass, but the thought crosses his mind.

*

Ava's look isn't quite as impressive as Peggy's - she doesn't have the sort of experience with giving them that the older woman does. But it's another version of it. Less because she's invested in Sean's sobriety, though, than that whiskey in a Chinese restaurant? You don't have to be a spy to find that weird.

But Peggy arrives before she has a chance to respond, and she turns toward her, already starting to cross her arms defensively over her chest before she forces them back down again. "Hi," she says after a moment.

*

It might be lucky for Sean that Ava is there, because while he's getting that eyebrow from Peggy, all she says to him is, "I still expect you at oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow." Her voice is clipped, British and short as ever, military precision after all these years. Then she's looking back to Ava and something in her expression softens. Especially as the young woman makes the effort to put her arms down. Peggy reads body language like books, she knows that was a struggle and she appreciates it.

She turns her head back to the chef, saying something quickly in Mandarin again and making a motion with two fingers. Probably some sort of order for both of them. Then back to Ava. "…Have dinner with me? It is very good here. I've already missed Daniel's cooking back home, no doubt."

*

Fighting the deep smart ass urge to salute, Sean simply nods and lifts his glass. "8 o'clock sharp, ma'am. Lookin' forward to it." He punctuates that with a sip. The flurry of exchange between Peggy and Ava intrigues him. The girl? She's… 20.. tops. He can't help but give Ava another look trying to figure out if this is either a very important secretary, a relative or possibly more.
Finally he turns back to the menu and sliding it across the counter to the server, he stabs at a random place and says "I'll have one of those.."

*

"Sure," Ava agrees, nodding once. She'll insist to her grave that she can take care of herself, but that doesn't mean she's going to turn down a meal that isn't from the soup kitchen down the street from the YMCA. Even if the chef is probably some sort of undercover SHIELD agent.

"Who's Daniel?" she asks, still keeping half an eye on Sean. It could all be an act, after all.

*

A brief nod of acceptance is given to Sean — she's going to hold him to that. And, thought she did catch him drinking already, he's not failed her yet. So she simply accepts it and moves on. Tired feet carry her to one of the side tables, near enough that she acknowledges Sean could probably evasdrop without directly inviting him to join them. She settles in there, unbuttoning her suit jacket before sitting as it doesn't actually seem to fit at the middle. Even standing, the button strains at the waist.

"Daniel. Oh…My husband. I think you met him, once or twice. Handsome, dark hair, prosthetic leg. He's the cook among us and generally gets home a bit earlier." Peggy admits with a half wry smile, but there is a tired apology behind her eyes too, more for another night she misses dinner than anything.

*

It's rude to eavesdrop! Unless you are used to being undercover and or spying on folks then it's just plain second nature. Sean silently kicks himself for not having picked up on the fact that Sousa and Peggy were married. It of course seems obvious now but he would have expected to be better than to have to have someone tell him, or rather tell someone and have him overhear. At least while Peggy's around he does her the curteousy of sipping his drink more slowly while waiting for his foood.

*

Ava's brows rise slightly, but she doesn't comment further on Peggy's personal life. Russians. Instead, she just nods, sliding into a chair opposite the other woman. Again, she falls silent, chewing at the inside of her cheek, until whatever she wants to say has built up in her. "Things are very not right here in the city."

*

"No, no they aren't. We're running a constant perimeter around Central Park — where that bloody Hellmouth started — but there's still not enough people to be a proper wall, let Agents get a right amount of sleep, and handle the other cases. So…things get through. It's better than nothing." Peggy isn't bothering to pitch her tone low or conspiratorial. She can see all corners of the room, knows exactly who is here, and has probably hired or, at least handled, every single one of them before. Chinese cooks included. So, she speaks plainly as they wait on their noodles. "…But, that is what we do at SHIELD. Handle the…Not Right, so regular people don't have to. The odds are often not with us. I…can understand why you ran away from that, Ava. It's frightening. I do understand."

*

While waiting for his food, he could either drink more or smoke and seeing as he currently is getting mother's dissapproving gaze for one, Sean opts to light up a cigarette. Yes, the 60s what a lovely time for those who wanted to taste their food. As Ava raises the issue of the current events though his ears pick up. He half turns, not really pretending to not be listening in as Peggy explains. He starts to interject but instead pulls out a notepad and furiously scribbles notes for tomorrow. Yes, technically he was brought here for counter terrorism cooperation but if they need agents to stop demonds munching on people, well gee that sounds fun. He even ventures to give Peggy a small hand turn and eyebrow raise to question why he wasn't tapped for that.

*

"I did not run away," Ava says quickly, bristling. "I mean. I didn't run away like that." She frowns, leaning back in her chair again. "You people kept me locked away like some sort of experiment for half of my childhood. I didn't leave because I was frightened. I left because I didn't trust you." This time, she doesn't stop herself from crossing one arm in front of herself, holding the other elbow. But she doesn't leave, either. "That said, it's possible I didn't give you…the full benefit of the doubt."

*

Yes, yes, Peggy full well knows that Sean is listening. His notebook gets a touch of a smirk, but the tint of emotions in her eyes is closer to approval than anything. She gives him the slightest of waves of a hand as he gives her that hand turn, an offhand motion to say they will discuss it later. Ava is really 99 percent of her focus now, slightly deeper worry behind her eyes. A slight sigh escapes her lips. "…You…you were *never* prisoner. You also weren't an experiment. Not ours. I…I swear to you, Ava, we were doing everything we could to give you a *normal* life. I wanted to do more but you were…unstable. I couldn't risk letting you harm yourself. If I was over protective then…that is on me and I am sorry for that. You are alive now…and managing on your own. That's all I ever wanted. Even if I still worry." There it is, Peggy's greatest strength, and weakness probably. She cares as much as any mother…She cares for them all — heart deep.

*

Sean turns back to the counter, ostensibly because his food is delivered. Really it's because the conversation took a turn for the way more personal and he actually felt a little bad getting all that back story on the girl that quickly. He sets his cigarette aside and looks down at the mystery meal he ordered. He picks up a spoon and pokes at the ramen before reaching for his drink again. The change in Peggy's tone gets a little head lilt as if he's trying to decide how sincere it is. He's not used to a woman boss (like most men nowadays) and the soft approach is difficult for him to read from a person in authority. Almost as difficult to read as this chinese soup in front of him. Is there egg in this?

*

"I've been managing on my own for years," Ava grumbles. She glances back toward Sean, eyes narrowing slightly as she tries to get a read on the man. She's usually a private sort, but…This is a SHIELD building. Assuming anything here is private is more than a little bit disingenuous. "I saw on the news that the UN decided to scrap the Avengers idea. If not for any of the ethical reasons, of course, but the result was the same. SHIELD, I think, has probably not given up on keeping track of and defending against the less usual sorts of problems, though."

*

"No… It just means there isn't a super special team of people who think they are above the law because they have powers. It means we all work together now — as an *entire organization* — to defend the world from super or extra-human threats. Just like we did before. Like we have always done since the say we started. So…nothing changes but publicity, and I am fine with that. I don't need pomp and circumstance to protect the world, I just need good people willing to do the job." Peggy doesn't harp on the woman's past, not right now with more ears in the room and Ava willing to have the longest conversation in years. A minute later, the chef does bring by two steaming bowls of heavily noodled, tangy and sweet soup. It smells savoury with a hint of sugar and utterly divine, especially on a chilled autumn night.

*

Well this is certainly more of an informative conversation than Sean had earlier, even if he technically "isn't a part of it." He does make a few more notes in the notepad, an old habit from his investigating days. He is writes out some of the euphamisms for non human threats. He eventually gives up trying to figure out what his meal is and just enjoys it, temporarily at least letting the women have a more private conversation.

*

Ava considers Peggy's answer for a long moment, then nods, pulling her chair in closer to lean over the soup. She's a few spoonfuls in before she speaks, mouth half-full of noodles. "I think I want to help." She looks up from her soup, still slurping a bit. "I think I can help."

*

The British brunette remains quiet for several long heartbeats. Maybe she's purposefully trying to make Ava sweat. More likely, she's actually taking it all into consideration. Her stomach then growls, audibly loud, a protest at the fact she's not touched her own noodles. She clears her throat in a hint of embarrassment and sits forward, taking a good few spoonfuls. Finally, stomach calmed, she speaks. "…I am certain you could help. But… this won't be like before. No containment. No doctors. And you need to start from the beginning. No special treatment. You train like all the other new agents. Are you up for *that*?"

*

After a couple bites, each followed by a drink of whiskey Sean decides that his finger has made a grave error in it's ordering. He takes some money out of his wallet, tosses some cash down, downs the rest of his drink and picks up his cigarette. He stands and heads for the door stopping briefly to say "G'night ma'am. .. ' miss." to the two agents and he makes his way out… to find a proper bar.

*

Ava is already looking toward Sean before he's even standing up. But as he heads for the door, she nods to the man. Young, yes. Definitely. Scrawny, even. But there's something else beneath the surface there. When she turns back to Peggy, it's with a faint smirk. "Do I have a problem with embarrassing your new class of trainees? Of course not."

*

That smirk is returned with a slightly deeper one, "Yes, you are savvy and you've had some training, but I wouldn't get quite too big for your britches yet, Ava. There's a lot more that being good in a fight that goes into being an Agent. Still…" Peggy exhales quietly, "I do think you'd be a valuable asset. I'd be happy to have you start training as a junior agent." She clips out warmly. Her eyes tilt to the side, tracing Sean as he exits. She gives him a simple wave, but Ava is her concern right now.

*

Ava slurps up another spoonful of soup, nodding. "I know there's more. The fighting part's not even the biggest part. The mindset. The preparation. Awareness." Like watching Sean leave, and checking mirrors and reflections to see if anyone else is hanging around and listening. "But, as strange as the reasons are, it is something I know. Something I am good at. Something that I believe needs to be done. By my choice, this time."

*

A gentle tilt of her head, quiet agreement and assent, "Your choice, absolutely. Like any job, we just request two weeks notice should you ever decide to leave. You will start on a junior agent's salary. We don't have a full training class again until November, but If you want to start tomorrow, goodness knows we could use the bodies. You can shadow a senior agent. Does that sound amenable?" Peggy inquires with an arch of her brow, studying Ava's features a bit deeper now. She doesn't really need to look at parts of the room, reflections and the like. Those details come to her as natural as breathing. So her actual focus and attention goes for the most important thing — the people to whom she speaks. Bodies tell her so much more than words.

*

"Sure," Ava nods over another spoonful. "Wait, salary?" She's been living on her own for years, but she's a little perplexed by this whole salary thing. That doesn't speak much to how she's been living. "I don't have to open a bank account, do I?"

*

That makes Peggy's second brow arch, her head tilting a hint to the side, staring over at Ava, "…A …bank account would be a wise idea. We don't pay a fortune, but it's not a pittance and generally comes as a check. You'll want to put that money *somewhere*." Peggy then pauses, her eyes darting across the girl's clothing, hair, shoes. Her expression darkens in worry a moment later, the question about the bank account pretty much affirming her suspicions of the girl being on the street. "…Do you have anywhere proper to live, Ava?"

*

"I have a place to live, with a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on," Ava replies. Which is to say, no. "I don't trust banks. Accounts can be frozen, tracked." But under the two-inch pallet of a mattress in the basement of the YMCA is totally a safe place to put…money you don't generally have. She shrugs, looking back down into her bowl.

*

"…Ava… having a place to live doesn't mean it's proper or safe. Where are you? A shelter? The Y?" Peggy asks, savvy enough to these things she can make a good guess, especially since the statement didn't read as exactly a lie. Then the comment about banks and Peggy just sighs, taking a few more spoonfuls of soup to rather bite her tongue before she speaks impulsively. Her words are more calm once she's done eating. "You are signing up to work for the most powerful spy agency in the world, Ava. We.. can track whatever we want. But we'll take care of you. You need somewhere safe for that money, most of it, at least. It's part of being a grown adult."

*

"You haven't been tracking me," Ava points out, looking up from the soup. "Because I don't pay rent, or update addresses at the post office, or keep a bank account. Also, don't you need ID to open a bank account? I don't have ID. I think my birth certificate was lost at some point between being strongarmed from my mother and into a Russian experiment and being taken from the burning ashes of that experiment to the United States. Or possibly when I broke out of my SHIELD…private tutoring program."

It could be sullen, except she looks up with another of those small smiles. Less sullen than pushing buttons, maybe. "I have a room in the basement of the Y," she relents. "By the boiler. It gets a little chilly in the winter, and the showers are pretty much always cold, but it's good enough. And the soup kitchen is just down the street."

*

"No, we haven't. And even when you do do that, we won't track you because you're not a prisoner, you're one of our agents. The only thing we use that for is if you are in danger, if something has happened to you. That's it. So…that will be your choice. I can get you another birth certificate easily." Oh, to have such power. To just wave one's hand a get government documents most can't dream about. That is Peggy Carter's life these days. It doesn't even make her blink. The boiler does, though, and the cold shower. She just sighs, "…well, if you wish to come back to the house, you can stay with Daniel and I until you get the first check and find a proper place. I…I think Mickey would like you. My daughter. You're both trouble makers." Peggy half smiles.

*

Ava swirls her spoon through what's left of the soup at the offer, frowning slightly. "I…That's very generous of you. But I don't think that would play well to the being a trainee like everyone else," she says as she looks back up. "I've been fine for a long time. I'll still be fine until I figure out what to do about having a paycheck."

*

"It's an offer I've given before. Not to every trainee, but to some. And other agents. It…it's on the table, if you change your mind. We're out in Long Island. It's occasionally too quiet for my tastes, but…very lovely. Truly, you wouldn't be putting us out." Peggy gives a slight laugh, "Hell, you might help remind me to actually bloody well come home at a reasonable hour on occasion." Of course, now, the night stretches on still, Peggy ever later for her husband.

*

"Long Island?" Ava makes a face before she even thinks about it. "I think I'll be all right here." A spoonful of soup, chewing through the noodles, and her spoon clanks back into the bowl. "I bet you'd be home for dinner on time more often if you didn't have to go all the way out to Long Island." Helpful advice from the teenager. "Speaking of, I should probably let you go. What time should I be here?"

*

A small sound comes from Peggy's throat, almost a groan, "You're right about that, but Daniel thinks a child should have a bloody yard so…Long Island it is." This may be a point of marital contention. But the annoyance is fond and a bit aching. She does miss her husband. So, the question of letting her go gets a nod. Peggy stands, putting a fiver down to cover both their meals and a very good tip. "0900 hours. Let me get Cassidy and a few others settled in first, then we'll be ready for you. Come here. Someone will come up and get you. Understood?"

*

"Yes, ma'am," Ava nods, lifting her bowl to suck down the last of the broth before she stands up. "I will be here. And you should tell him that parks are better than yards," she adds, smile flickering. "Although maybe a little less so when there are gateways to hell in them. That part may have some validity to it right now."

*

"I'll let him know. Come for supper one night and tell him yourself." With that, Peggy gives a little salute to the chef who gives a gentle bow in her direction in turn. She shoulders back into her suit jacket and tilts her head to Ava. "See you tomorrow, Junior Agent." And with that, Peggy double times it out the door to catch a cab. At least she got much needed work done tonight.

*

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