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Sleeping while pregnant tends to NOT be the most comfortable of experiences in the first place. But sleeping on a couch while pregnant? Well, Peggy's pretty much asking for misery. But she's also stubborn and has only gone home once since the massive screaming match with Daniel, so sleeping at the office it is. It's some vague hour of the morning on a Saturday, her little desk lamp on, glowing through the frosted window of her office. She's managing to remain half asleep on the couch, curled on her side, the blanket she used to keep here but rarely used draped across her frame now. She's, at least, taken off her suit as to not wrinkle it horribly. That leaves her just in her under slip now. Almost as good as a night gown.
*
One of the prices of Ava's relative freedom to pursue her own undercover investigation is that she has to come in to handle reports or office duties at odd hours. Like early morning on Saturdays. To be honest, it's sort of how she prefers things. Fewer people to watch her. Fewer people to ask questions. Which is why, when she sees the light on in the director's office, she pauses, frowning to herself.
A flicker of electricity sparks between her fingers, steps nearly silent as she pads toward the door to peer inside. A sleeping director, though, is clearly not what she expected. She blinks, giving the door a slight nudge to make sure there's not someone else in there. The hinges creak ever so slightly.
*
Exhausted or not, pregnant or not, Peggy has still been a spy and intelligence agent for over twenty years. That means even the smallest of creaks is enough to get her eyes to jerk open and fingertips almost immediately reaching for the gun on the night stand above her head. She doesn't actually grab it, as tired eyes recognize the little face peeking in the door, but she's certainly awake now. She lets out a slight breath, half sitting…"Come on…come in. Just…shut the door behind you." She rasps out to the woman, throat still thick with sleep.
*
Ava hesitates for a moment before she pushes the door open enough to step inside, still looking around. She does close the door behind herself, but she frowns as she looks to the director. "Director," she says slowly, starting to cross her arms over her chest and catching herself in time to shove her hands into her pockets instead. "Are you…all right?"
*
"Just fine. With everything going on, it seemed wise just to… remain on hand in the office." Lies. Absolute lies. Even if she tells them smooth as butter cream, the screaming match was well known around the office. The fact she yelled at her husband to keep the house. But now she just pushes one hand back through her slightly graying brown waves and tries to look as smooth and put together as a woman sleeping on a couch in her slip can on a Saturday morning. "…Forgive my… state of dress. I know it's not proper."
*
Ava arches a brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the lie. Which would be more impressive on her part if she didn't look like a homeless waif herself. "Director. It is not your 'state of dress' that I am worried about." She's probably been caught taking a nap under a desk at least once herself. "I know it is not my place, but…why are you fighting with your family now? With everything that is happening, with…" She stops, lips pursing as she tries to figure out which side of the line to walk.
*
The woman's expression hardens just a bit more as Ava dares to ask that. She says nothing for a few heartbeats and then carefully pushes the blanketing off the rest of her rounding frame. It's a bit of a struggle, but she manages to push herself up to her feet in one go so she can walk over to her hung up suit and slip into the generously let out skirt. She gets dressed clinically, like this was a regular part of professional work. "…Agent Sousa decided to tender his resignation. I disagreed with his reasoning. The matter is closed. I am certain you did not come here to discuss my personal life, however. What do you have for me?"
*
"I am here because of you." Ava tilts her head slightly, unbothered by the dressing. She has been living in the basement of a YMCA, so privacy isn't her biggest concern. "Because a good woman came to Russia. Because she was not content to leave things to someone else. Despite being stuck in a hole for five years," she adds with the faintest flicker of a smile. "I am here. But that is because of you. Not because I trust SHIELD. So." She shrugs, leaving that open to interpretation.
*
Silence. Peggy says absolutely nothing for a few moments, jaw slightly set, but she's not meeting the woman's eyes. She just finishes slipping into a shirt and then tugs her suit jacket on over top. It doesn't really button any more, but she's just accepting that. She steps over to the little mirror in the corner, grabbing the brush from the table below it so she can at least put her hair back in some sort of order. There are enough little things left around her office that it's likely she's been staying here multiple nights in a row. "… Nothing has changed about that. I was not going to leave you behind, I still won't. I am sorry the house… is no longer being offered. Though you never said yes. But I… left that for Daniel and Mickey. She should have a proper home to be in. But… I will still always do all I can to… protect you. To protect everyone. That's… that's all I'm trying to do, you know that?"
*
Ava watches the preparations, listening to the words that are said and the words that aren't said. In many ways, Ava is uneducated. She was a child when she left Russia. The next five years were spent in SHIELD custody, in a safe house, with tutoring that was irregular at best and painfully geared toward patriotism at the worst. And the next five on the street. Many of her skills are borrowed or stolen. But some of it? More than is entirely comfortable, much of it comes naturally.
"I wouldn't dare to claim I know you, Director. But what I have known of you is that when it comes to protecting everyone around you, you have always done it by standing in front of them. And maybe with the baby now, it is not being able to do that that has upset the apple cart, so to speak." She pulls her hands out of her pockets, crossing her arms loosely over her chest with a shrug. "I have a place. In the city. But you are not going to be the director we need if you are sleeping on your couch because the people you were standing in front of thought you were leaving them behind."
*
"…How do I protect the people around me from… impossibly strong aliens? Super humans? How do I do this without the tools that we use against just regular, normal criminals? A gun or a simple jail cell will not work the next time an Asgardian decides to assassinate the president." Or even herself. Though, the bruises have all now healed, the multiple attempts on Peggy's life in as many weeks weren't exactly secret wither. She finishes putting the brush through her hair and turns back towards Ava, watching her with tired eyes.
"I am not leaving anyone behind. I… I'm just doing the things that need be done to keep them safe. Even if it seems like awful things. If I have to be the enemy, then I will be the enemy… If it means protecting this world. My people. My *family*?…I will be the enemy. I have always done the dirty things others weren't willing to do. But I do them for all of you."
*
"I understand," Ava nods. "But I will hope that you remember, Director. The nazis who said they were only following orders. People like my parents, who were doctors, who thought they were serving the state. We are spies." Again, that vague shrug that could mean anything. "We will do the dirty things, have the bloody hands. But we should also remember what we are fighting for. To be careful that we don't…become what we're fighting against."
*
The woman narrows her eyes slightly at Ava, staring hard for another few heartbeats. "…Do you think that is what I have become?" She asks flatly, almost daring the girl to say yes. But then, Peggy has always encouraged Ava, and any of her agents, to speak plainly. This time is no different. She stands stiff and still, waiting patiently for the answer.
*
"Not yet," Ava answers, unhesitating. Honesty, at least, is something she has no problem with. "But I remember falling asleep beneath my mother's desk while she worked all night. I remember the look in her eyes when they took me away, when she realized what she had worked so hard for. She didn't see it until then. And then it was too late. So. I came here because I was going to be better. Than her. Than the Widow. And I would not be better if I didn't say anything."
*
There is a moment where Peggy might seem as if she's going to crack. She's so close. She probably needs someone desperately to cry on, or scream at, or let go of whatever mess of emotions she's feeling. There is a glimmer of it behind her eyes, almost tears. But she takes in a slow, deep breath and swallows it all back down, giving a small nod. "I… respect that. And I do not think I will cross that line. It has just been a touch… overwhelming, as of late. It will get better. I am sure. Things… will die down. We just have to manage until then."
*
Ava nods slowly. "We will manage," she agrees. "But maybe there should be more to life than managing. I think someone told me that about my cot." A smile ghosts across her features, there and gone in the blink of an eye before she steps back toward the door again. "I know very little about relationships, and friends and family. But I do know that couches make terrible beds."
*
"…it is… not comfortable to go home to an empty house." Peggy murmurs, a touch softer than before, but there doesn't seem to be any actual emotion behind her words. It's just a distant, quiet statement of fact. Perhaps the director is still in shock over it all. Married ten years, quite pregnant, even Peggy can be overwhelmed. But at least she has found the strength to make that little admission. There may still be some cracks of humanity beneath the surface.
*
"Then it is a good thing you have a husband and a child, yes?" Ava smiles faintly. "I think that they probably like you. And if they don't, then they are still stuck with you, so they will probably get used to it." She steps back to the door, tipping her head toward the exit. "I am going to train for a bit, so that I do not get soft."
*
A slight tilt comes to her head, a motion of farewell. The commentary about her husband makes Peggy slightly wince, but she doesn't argue it. The girl did not need to hear her problems. "Train well, Ava… Thank you for… checking in." She states with a half smile, trying to look more gentle than before. Peggy then steps over to her desk and sinks down into the high backed chair. She's awake now, might as well work.
*