Work Text:
Jack sighed as he knocked on the ridiculously large and ornate door to the Stark mansion. Why Carter wanted to meet him here, he didn’t know. His hotel room was perfectly fine. It didn’t have a table for them to sit at, or even enough chairs, but that was okay. There was one armchair and some other surfaces to sit on, like a dresser. That’s all they needed. And, more importantly, it didn’t require him to leave what had become his sanctuary.
Much to his dismay, Jack was forced to do his convalescing in Los Angeles. His doctors said due to the damage to his lung, the air pressure brought on when in-flight would be ‘not advisable’. Jack had learned that was doctor-speak for ‘will hurt like hell.’
Sousa had offered to let him stay at his house, but he didn’t want someone hovering over him. Not to mention, Danny boy and Marge were an item now. Jack had no desire to be a third wheel. He’d lied to the doctors, telling them he was staying with someone who could keep an eye on him, and checked into a hotel. A different hotel, not the one where….
Jack snapped to attention when the door opened to reveal a woman with red hair and a bright green dress. Ana Jarvis, he remembered. He’d only met her once during the whole Zero Matter thing, only exchanged a few pleasantries with her. She seemed nice. Must be a saint to put up with Jarvis and Stark. Especially Stark.
“Ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat. “I’m looking for Cart... uh, Peggy Carter.”
“I am sorry, Chief Thompson. She is not here right now.”
He kept his put-upon sigh to himself, knowing she was just the messenger. He’d lay into Carter later.
“Okay, I’ll come back later.” Jack turned to leave but stopped when she spoke.
“Actually, she did say you would be coming by and for you to wait for her.”
She stepped aside, welcoming him in. He hesitated, then figured he was already here and walked inside, following her into the sitting room. Scents of spicy and garlicky goodness permeating the room, making him realize he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“How are you feeling, Chief Thompson?”
Jack pursed his lips. First of all, what did she know about his… condition? Second of all. Well, second of all didn't matter. He didn’t want to discuss his recovery with anyone, let alone someone he barely knew.
“I’m good,” he tossed out. “You?”
“Very well. Thank you.”
He was really hoping she’d leave him in the room alone but she sat on a ridiculously ornate velvet settee, so he sat opposite her in an equally ridiculously ornate velvet armchair.
“Would you like something to eat or drink while you wait?” Ana asked.
“No, thank you,” he responded, despite his stomach growling to the contrary.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a home-cooked meal. Room service was convenient, but the hotel’s cuisine left a lot to be desired. There were only so many bland ham sandwiches and tough steaks he could handle. And tacos. What the hell were those? Was it too much to ask for a decent deli in this God-forsaken state?
“Your recovery is going well, Chief Thompson?”
He shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”
He wasn't much for small talk, especially small talk that involved anything personal. Hoping his curt response would keep her quiet, he almost sighed out loud when she spoke.
“Rehabilitation is difficult but it is a necessary part of the recovery process.”
Jack bit back a rude comment. Rehab was nothing but nurses telling him what to do. If he wanted a woman bossing him around, he’d get married. He couldn’t say he felt any better than before starting rehab.
“It is hard work but it is worth it,” she added.
“That’s what they say.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm from sneaking into his tone.
“It is, I guarantee you,” Ana said, her voice hesitant. “It helped me tremendously.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose. Then he remembered Carter and Sousa talking about Jarvis’s wife getting shot by Whitney Frost. She looked fine to him, but then, he didn’t really know her.
She smiled but a sadness reflected in her gaze. “My own gunshot injury was, well, life-changing, to say the least.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he offered, unsure what else to say.
“Don't be. It has changed my perspective on… many things.”
He resisted rolling his eyes. He’d heard about people who said they had out-of-body experiences, floating above their body, going toward the light, blah, blah, blah. The last thing he needed was to talk about science fiction mumbo-jumbo with Jarvis’s wife. Where the hell was Carter?
“I did not have any near-death experiences,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Perhaps you did?”
He hid his shock by shaking his head. She actually thought he was one of those crazies?
She smiled. “I thought not.”
Not knowing what came over him, he said, “I don't remember any of it. Just woke up to…”
To his life turned upside down, inside out, FUBAR. Really FUBAR.
“The same happened to me,” she replied with a nod. “Though I do remember what happened after I received the news of… the extent of my injuries. My first reaction was self-pity. I am sure that is normal. But thankfully I shook that off when I realized I have been given a second chance.”
“I admire your positive attitude,” he replied, remembering that when he received the news that half his lung had been blown off, he let loose with a string of profanities that embarrassed the nurse and the doctor.
“There is nothing to admire, really. I knew in my heart that there is something else in store for me. I have a purpose in this life, and though I do not yet know what that purpose will be, I will find out.”
Jack chewed on the inside of his lip. His purpose in life was to be an SSR agent. His military service had primed him for it. His father’s connections had primed him for it. But the way the doctors were talking, he’d never be in the field again. The damage was permanent, making it hard enough to breathe just walking around. Add in running pursuits and he'd be asking for trouble. That equaled a future of sitting behind a desk. Not a bad future, but not a good one, either. The best leaders he’d known were hands-on, not butt-in-chair.
“However,” she continued, “I do know that this injury will neither control nor define me.” She looked at him, eyes piercing. “Just as yours will neither control nor define you.”
Jack wasn’t expecting that. How did she know what he was thinking? That he was questioning what his future would be? Though Vernon was gone, it wasn't clear how far his control and corruption reached. For all Jack knew, he was out of a job. The War Department sent someone to take over the New York office before he was out of surgery. No mention that it was a temporary appointment.
“I…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know that they’ll let me continue as chief.”
“Then that is their own foolish oversight,” she said sharply. “You are good at what you do. Both my husband and Mr. Stark have told me so.”
He had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. Jarvis and Stark had actually spoken those words? He found that hard to believe but she had no reason to lie just to make him feel better. And it did make him feel better. He was good at his job. Damn good. He’d jumped right in after Dooley died and kept the New York office running smoothly, even had a couple of high-profile cases to his name. Not to mention, his role in bringing down Vernon Masters. He was a strong investigator and a strong leader. Half his lung was gone but his entire brain was still intact.
“We are in charge of our own destinies, Chief Thompson. No gunshot wound will keep us from knowing our purpose in life. This injury cannot and will not keep us from what we were put on this earth to do.”
He found himself slowly nodding, and he did nothing to stop it. Maybe, just maybe, Ana Jarvis had a point. He was in charge of his own future, not this injury, not even the SSR brass. And maybe the SSR was not part of that future. It wasn’t like he didn’t have options. The only thing stopping him from succeeding was himself. Carter had said as much to him, and she was right.
For the first time since he awoke in a hospital bed, he realized this was not the end. It was just the beginning, a new beginning that he could define. He was alive for a reason, and it was up to him to figure out what that reason was and act accordingly.
“Well, given the time," Ana said as she looked the mantel clock, “I suppose we have been, what is the phrase… stood up.”
Jack smiled. “Yeah, I guess we have.”
He couldn't say he was disappointed, though. This had turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Good thing Carter was held up. He winced as his mind touched on what she and Sousa could be doing that was holding her up. He was happy for them – about damn time they figured it out – but he didn't want to think about the two of them together. Or maybe they were on a new case? He wasn’t sure which one he liked less.
“With Mr. Stark and my husband out, and Miss Carter running late, I suppose it’s just me for dinner.” Ana glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Would you like to join me, Chief Thompson? I fear I’ve made enough goulash for at least a dozen people.”
He had no idea what goulash was but given the enticing scents assaulting his nose, he figured it would be infinitely better than room service.
“It’s Jack,” he said with a smile, “and I think I will take you up on that offer, thanks.”
Ana smiled back. “My pleasure, Jack. I look forward to hearing what you think.”
If her cooking skills were as sharp as her insight, Jack thought, he was in for another pleasant surprise.