cat_77: SHIELD logo (SHIELD)
cat_77 ([personal profile] cat_77) wrote2014-12-01 01:44 pm

Agents of SHIELD - Diary of an Agent

Title: Diary of an Agent
Genre: Crossover, AU, Gen with a mention of previous het
Fandoms: Captain America, Agents of SHIELD
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~3,300 words
Spoilers: Captain America, through mid-season 2 of AoS, possibly slight for Agent Carter
Synopsis: Agents keep secrets, sometimes even from themselves.
Author's Notes: So I had a bad idea...
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and am making no profit from this.

Also available on AO3.



September 2nd, 1948

Dear diary,
It's been three years since the end of the war, longer still since we lost Captain Rogers. Howard is still convinced we can find him, or at least some trace of him. I am beginning to doubt his resolve, but do admit a longing for the truth, a resolution to the matter if nothing else.

Howard made an odd request of me today. He has requested that I take someone on as an agent and has claimed that, though she may not be field-certified at this time, she at least once had the clearance and she "makes a damn good cup of coffee and can organize better than even Dr. Hughes." I have no use for the coffee, but could do with some organization. You would think these men had never learned their alphabet the way they file. I told him I would take her on for a trial basis given the proper review. Nothing classified as of yet - well, classified beyond the organization as a whole - but with the right to earn a place.

I know firsthand how difficult it can be as a woman to prove yourself in this world. She will have to work hard, harder than the men to be certain, but she will be given a chance as is right and proper.






September 23rd, 1948

Dear diary,
Howard, as usual, neglected to mention several key pieces of data when making his request earlier this month. The woman in question is an American, born and bred and this is not truly a surprise. The surprise is that she is a single mother of a toddler. This complicates matters as typically we would not place a mother at such a risk. True, filing paperwork seems safe enough, but we have already made enemies and our offices could be attacked at any time. She is a single mother though, raising the child on her own, with no source of outside income to assist in this matter. She claims that the father of her child was lost in the war, which is likely enough. The doubt arises from Mr. Stark's involvement.

I have made it very clear that I will not be providing employment for his dalliances and that the S.S.R. is not a dumping ground for those he chooses to leave behind. He swears the child is not of his blood but remains silent as to her true parentage. This casts doubt upon his words, to say the least. Then again, Howard Stark has more than enough funds at his disposal to set her up comfortably without concern should he choose to do so. But I did promise to give her a chance. Should she prove to be inept, or should the child seem a bit too familiar for my tastes, we will have strong words.






August 1st, 1948

Dear diary,
Howard was more obtuse in his actions that originally suspected. The woman in question is a former Private of the U.S. Army and I have worked with her on previous occasions. She claims her name is Lorraine Fitzgerald, though hesitates over the surname and never quite signs it the same way twice. Dugan swears he met her before, but cannot remember where or when or what the circumstances were that surrounded the situation.

I did some digging as is right and proper for my position and for hiring for a position that would potentially work closely with sensitive data. I discovered a photograph of her beside Colonel Phillips from when we sought to take down Red Skull and his ilk. Her name was not Fitzgerald at that time, nor were there any soldiers stationed with us by that name. It is possible that she came across a soldier in another manner and took his name, but there are no marital records to be found. To be fair, much documentation was lost during the war, but something still feels off about this.

I must admit to a possible bias at this time. I once came across Fitzgerald and Captain Rogers in a delicate situation. It was nothing more than a kiss, or so they both swore at the time. My temper had flared, however, and I acted less than professionally, potentially putting others at risk. We had planned to test the new vibrantium shield, and I did so in a less than planned manner. Thankfully, the metal proved up to the task as I would not have been able to bear it had I been the source of a serious wound for a man I dared to call friend.






December 26th, 1948

Dear diary,
Lorraine was absent from the holiday festivities, so I spared a visit to her home. It was small and comfortable and painfully American. There was not a tea kettle in sight, though she asked if I would like any. Rather than trouble her, I dropped off the small tokens I had purchased for my staff and the slightly larger one gifted from Howard. I explained the concept of Boxing Day while perusing the rather bare tree with its adorable paper ornaments clearly made by her child.

I met her child at this time and must say that I do now highly doubt Howard is the father. Annabelle is tiny and delicate with pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her manners are that you would expect of one her age, but she is clearly trying and I must say I found it endearing.

There was a framed photograph on a shelf that caught my eye. It was a staff picture from the war. Every American in the unit lined up proud and true, uniforms as clean as they could make them, rank and file not quite exact but as close as they could manage. I remember that day as we Brits were next and had to help them with a camera that simply refused to work. Like many things in the small flat, it shiny and bright and free of dust. Notably, however, there was a smear of a fingerprint across one portion of it, a face I knew too well beneath the hint of grime.

I told her I missed him as well and was on my way. Though Annabelle's age hints that Lorraine may not have still been stationed when the Commandos came into the limelight, it was one of the few pictures I have of someone I now know she still holds dear. I will have a copy made and gift it to her upon its arrival.






January 22nd, 1949

Dear diary,
Dugan and the boys have returned! There was, perhaps, a little drink and a little song and quite a few stories to he told. I will have the pleasure of their company for a month in the least and possibly far more before they are off again. Sometimes I wish I had the freedom to be openly in the field in such a way. Other times, I fear for this organization should any of the other administrators attempt to take the lead.

Falsworth and Dernier have already befriended half of the new staff and I give them until tomorrow to win over the remainder. Morita and Jones were given several looks not proper for certified heroes and those who gifted them with such should consider themselves under report. If this organization has taught anything, it should be that biases should be ignored and loyalty built upon action. Even Fitzgerald and I have worked at a tenuous friendship, one strengthened by sharing ridiculous stories of ridiculous men.






May 4th, 1949

Dear diary,
Our offices have been attacked. Amongst the injured were Morita, Johnson, and Fitzgerald. Morita saved at least six men before taking a shot, Johnson at least two. Fitzgerald had sounded the alarm and received a bullet to her arm for her troubles. It is doubtless that she saved us all.

Proving that Americans are stubborn and pigheaded, she wished to leave medical care almost as soon as the last suture was in place. She was a bit incoherent to be truthful, but it was determined she feared for Annabelle. The child was in the care of a neighbor for the day, her usual provider having canceled due to an outbreak of influenza that Annabelle herself had thankfully managed to avoid. It was Falsworth of all people that managed to calm her. He and Dugan promised to see to it personally that Annabelle was safe. They did not provide the details, but it appears there had been a risk at play and agents believed to be loyal to Hydra were found at the local school and at the "apartment" as Lorraine calls it. They had not known which neighbor was in possession of the child, and the delay had given the boys the time they needed to remedy the situation.

The fact that Hydra would go after an innocent child to use as leverage against her mother's organization is further proof of how despicable they truly are.






May 6th, 1949

Dear diary,
Some new information has come to light about just why Hydra would be interested in taking a child away from its mother. It would appear the action was not to provide leverage against the mother's place of employment, or for the mother to betray that employment for the safety of her child. It would appear that the child was wanted in her own right based upon her believed parentage.

The rumor mill was quite active when Lorraine arrived, with guesses as to the father of her child based upon her work history. Some of the more outlandish ideas were, of course, Howard himself, as well as Colonel Phillips and even Sergeant Barnes given his proclivity with the fairer sex. Howard denied involvement, Phillips was far too much a family man, and the time and dates did not line up correctly for Barnes. I have confirmed that, by the time the Howling Commandos were active and known, Fitzgerald had already resigned her commission.

She will neither confirm nor deny it, but the belief is that the proper surname for Ms. Annabelle Fitzgerald would be, if fate had not intervened, Rogers. Whether this is true or not is anyone's guess, but it would appear that a leak in our organization has set this thought into the minds of those Hydra would be proud to call their own. If true, the child may hold remnants of the serum within her blood. If not, scientists would dissect her looking for it anyway.

I cannot consign a child to this fate. I have contacted Howard, and we believe there may be a way to prevent this, to bury the rumor let alone the truth deep beyond the reaches of Hydra and even beyond the less righteous factions of our own organization. We will have to act fast though, and all official traces of Lorraine and Annabelle Fitzgerald would cease to exist.






June 7th, 1949

Dear diary,
I am saddened at the loss of Lorraine Fitzgerald. At my recommendation, her name is to be added to a plaque of those lost in service to our organization. Her actions undoubtedly saved others when our base was attacked but, unfortunately, she was awarded a bullet for her efforts. The official reports will show that she died of blood poisoning from her wounds. Her neighbor brought young Annabelle to an orphanage, unable to afford her. She was, of course, unaware that there was an office of agents willing to provide for her.

The Commandos have left again, on one of those rare missions that has sent each and every one of them to the far reaches of the world to seek intel. Morita remains due to his lingering wound, and has promised to send lewd and inappropriate messages as he sees fit.






June 17th, 1949

Dear diary,
Dugan and Dernier have sent word that they have discovered data caches that may be of importance. Jones and Falsworth have sent word that their deliveries have been received. Stark is off on some mad chase after a ghost only he may see, but has left several promising inventions as well as a great deal of funding to help further develop them. It is too bad that few of the scientists he left behind can make heads or tails of them.






June 14th, 1976

Dear diary,
Over twenty-five years since I left its great shores, I have been invited to return to England. A dear friend, Laurie Falthorne, has invited me to the wedding of her only daughter, sweet little Anna. Unfortunately, I cannot make it due to work concerns. The upcoming bicentennial has us all on red alert for a possible attack. I did, however, gift her with a silver tea set and a full background check on one Mr. Carl Simmons. He seems a decent enough man, kind and caring with a high enough intelligence to keep Anna's own overactive mind satisfied.

They are a good match, and I am pleased to see Anna so happy and well.






September 11, 1987

Dear diary,
Laurie has phoned to tell me she is a grandmother. Anna and Carl are still fussing over a name, but they are the proud parents of a healthy baby girl. I must find an appropriate gift. There was a small stuffed bear that graced my own shelves until it nearly disintegrated. Perhaps something along those lines would be appreciated.







"Agent Carter," he greeted respectfully.

The respect earned him a wave of a hand and a sound that most closely resembled a raspberry. "I haven't been an agent for far too long to still use that title," she insisted. "If you wish to go down that road, wouldn't I then need to call you 'Agent Coulson' - or is it 'Director' now?"

"I see you are as well informed as always," he smiled.

"Most of the staff here are those I trained myself, or their children in the least," she confided. "They say they want to keep me safe, that Hydra is on the loose again, and far more impossible things. What Hydra would want with a senile old lady is beyond me though."

Phil smiled. "That senile old lady started the only organization to take them down, and more than once at that," he reminded her. "To say it would be a blow to morale would be an understatement, and you are still sharp enough to understand that reasoning."

"You certainly know how to compliment a girl, I'll give you that," she replied. She patted the mattress beside her but seemed in no way surprised when he took the chair instead. "What do you need?" she asked. There was no promise she would be able to provide it, but there was no outright denial either. The title earned respect, the job that created the title earned loyalty.

He offered her a battered old journal that had definitely seen better days. She opened it enough to confirm a date, and then laid it beside her, hands on top of it an expression unreadable. "My team and I are using one of the old S.S.R. bases and happened across many of your old files," he confided. "They have helped us in ways we couldn't have even imagined, but have also provided more questions than answers upon occasion."

"The work of a spy will do that to you," she agreed, smile soft and nonjudgmental.

He nodded towards the journal and said, "We've also come across some of your personal memoirs. My team pried more than they should have when looking for information on a former guest of the Rat, and found some interesting entries from the late forties."

"Lorraine took a bullet to save our office and died from the effects. Her child was lost to the orphanage system, something we all regret. That is the official report," Peggy told him with the minimal amount of emotion possible.

He breathed out through his nose, quick and short. "I have recently discovered S.H.I.E.L.D has 'lost' more than a single child to the bureaucracy of the state systems. Remarkable for an organization whose job it is to wade through reams of data to to find a single equation scrawled in pencil by a long-dead civil servant in a forgotten office decades ago."

"Remarkable indeed," she agreed, still giving nothing away.

"A blood test would confirm it," he blurted. "The analysis types we have today, it could trace back her parentage, discover if..."

"It could, but it won't," Peggy told him, not unkindly. "Because we will not put an entire family line at risk for something that makes no difference anyway."

He nodded, message received. She may be long retired, but she was still the first and best leader of them all and he would abide by her wishes. She was, after all, correct: a confirmation would do nothing more than add additional targets to Hydra's already ridiculously long list. It would put an agent, and anyone dear to her, at even more risk than her job already entailed.

"She's a damn good agent," he told her instead. "Smart and loyal and protective of her team."

This time he earned a real smile. "Of course she is." A pause, then, "She's one of yours then?"

"Hydra tried to drown her, tried to kill her more than once. If they knew who she was, who she might be?" Phil sighed and stood. "We can't know because the moment we do, they do." He understood the reasoning, even if he didn't like it. That was fine, as she clearly felt the same way.

"Lorraine was a good woman. A bit forward for my sensibilities, but then... I had no claim on Steve, not then and not now. He didn't even know I fancied him when Lorraine made her move. It doesn't surprise me that it went further than a kiss as quite a few of us desired some time with the man. But she wanted him for who he became, not who he was to start with." She looked over to Coulson, the past and present blurred into one as the memories surged forth. "Annabelle was brilliant, just like her mother. It's only fitting that her child inherited that as well."

"She inherited far more than that: stubborn and far too willing to take risks if it means the safety of others and..."

"So, she's an agent then?" Peggy asked, a single eyebrow raised in challenge.

Phil accepted the journal back with a sheepish grin. "Yes, yes she most definitely is," he agreed.

Peggy settled back against her mountain of pillows, understanding and maybe a little bit smug. "The best of us always are," she told him.

He nodded and closed the door behind him, journal gripped tightly in his hands. It was pure luck that May had found it and no one else. If Jemma herself had found it, there was no telling what her response would be.

Actually, that was not quite true. Knowing his agents the way he did, she'd be more concerned about he now questionable nationality than knowing she may well be the descendent of a legend. For now though, it was just another secret he was going to have to keep. He had plenty of those though, as that was simply part and parcel of being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.





Feedback is always welcomed.