August 20, 1951, 9am
She was late. Everything about Jessica screamed to the passersby that she was absolutely and completely tardy. A few older mothers with hats sat neatly atop hair not still half-set with curlers clucked their disapproval at her as she sprinted down the street, her wooden heels clattering against the pavement. With a burst of energy, she pushed herself forward, skidding to a halt beside the cable car just in time to step foot aboard. The driver dipped the brim of his hat low before they rambled off into the day. A man in a worn but ironed suit stood to offer his seat to her and she thanked him warmly, giving his arm a squeeze before settling into the seat. It took her just a moment of fussing to get the last of the curlers out of her hair and into her bag where they rattled with a handful of change.
The morning was still chilly and thick with the soup of fog rolling in from the bay, and she was glad for the linen coat she'd picked up the day before. Leaning back in her seat, she could just read the headlines on that morning's Examiner over the shoulder of her seat mate, smiling at him after she startled him with a snort. She'd laughed at the business about the bookie being jailed for not paying his fine because she knew there were other things, more incredible things, happening than one crook getting his comeuppance. But the startled man next to her did not know about these incredible things, so she pointed demurely at the weather report.
"They really aren't kidding about that fog, are they? It's already ruining my hair!"
It is Jessica's experience that fitting in is all about giving people what they want. If they are happy to see you, they are less likely to peel back the layers of a person. For the last ten months, that is exactly how she'd survived. She was pleasant even when she wasn't powerful and no one took a second glance. It was only in her less-pleasant moments that people came looking for her. Fighting with Julianne in the beginning meant missing out on socializing and volunteer hours. It meant their face was tired, their hair messy. In the end, the only thing they'd found time to agree on was the work. Wartime had left deep trenches in both of their memories, and working together had repaired a bit of that damage. The sudden perks of being government employees didn't hurt either. They had no want for anything except to bring the world back to order.
Jessica and Julianne showed up, together yet still very separately, at a nondescript building near the Presidio. Unlike the military base, which was alive with tanks and men in green, this building looked quiet and unused with blinds drawn on every floor. Jessica remembered the first time she'd ever stepped foot in this building, nearly six months before. The halls looked long and foreboding with yellow light and dust motes in the air. Now, after so many weeks inside, the hallways became shorter, the curves more familiar. She knew about the coffee in Baker's office and the cigars Hodges kept in his top desk drawer. She knew every pamphlet, every wrinkle in the carpet. While this was not home, it was absolutely Home Base, and she looked forward to coming to this place for a bit of normalcy in an otherwise stressfully covert day. With a quick dip into Baker's office for some of that imported Columbian coffee, she made her way into the conference room where she'd done most of her work over the last few months. Folders were spread across the surface of the large oak table and photographs were pinned to the wall. She would only be in this building for an hour or so, collecting her orders for the day, but she liked looking at their faces, memorizing the pores of every suspect.
"If it isn't the Spider come back to her web." Lewis was a stout man with patchy stubble and the pitted red nose of someone who enjoyed one too many scotches with supper, but he was a good agent and a good boss. He never cornered her in the hallways or asked her to climb the walls like a lost circus performer. He always got flustered whenever anyone got the idea of putting her face in the papers, insisting her skills were better used in secret so no one would see her coming. While they were not quite on the same level with the reasoning, she appreciated the sentiment anyway.
"Well, if they're going to fall right in on their own, I might as well come to collect."
August 20, 1951, 12pm
Warning: Violence against women.
"Perfect place to take the Spider to lunch. Look at this slop. Wouldn't be half surprised if there were flies in my soup." While Lewis was a good boss, Jessica had to admit that Patrick Hodges was a lousy partner. He'd been hurt in the Pacific and came back with a scarred up calf and a pretty banged up personality to go with it. The moment he'd been assigned to Jessica's detail, he'd made sure to express to her daily that he thought she should be kept on the sidelines "in a short skirt and a cape so the world can know what you really are." Jessica didn't mind the attitude much. She did her job and did it well and Hodges was nothing compared to the men back home who had pretty similar ideas about where she belonged. And all of them were behind bars. Or worse.
"Darling, you shouldn't say such things," Jessica purred, pushing a curl of the blonde wig atop her head over her shoulder. She and Hodges, or Mr. and Mrs. George White as they were better known in this part of town, were having lunch in their semi-usual table at Gilbert's Deli just two blocks out from Chinatown. A few weeks before, they'd gotten word that the deli had started hosting suspect meetings in the back once a week when the Luau Club next door was at its busiest. So Hodges and Jessica took up a corner booth every other day, he in his grey suit and she in her blonde hair and ordered the same tomato soup and corned beef sandwich every time.
Hodges grimaced at the the pet name, and looked over her shoulder at the door as another young couple entered the deli and took their seats. Jessica blinked as he craned his neck for a better look at the pair and picked a bit of bitter sauerkraut off of her sandwich. Really, she couldn't see how this could possibly be necessary when Hodges refused to do his job properly.
"Well, dear, did the Rosenbergs break free?" Jessica watched Hodges's eyes widen and turn to her, full of fire and embarrassment, the bit of skin just above his top button starting to turn a deep scarlet. Leaning forward, she put her hand over his and plastered a smile on her face as her voice dropped to a whisper. "The whole point is that they don't know we see them. So either you do it right or you can catch a breeze. Got it?"
The sound was loud, like a shattered window in the middle of the night. Her cheek stung where his ring had smacked against her cheekbone and she could feel the fury build in her chest. It took quite a lot for Jessica to suppress that fury, her tight fists warming but the green glow washed out in the deli light. What really got her was the complete lack of surprise on his face. He had no fear and no remorse, and Jessica was tempted to change that for him. What stopped her was the entrance of a man into the deli, his black hat low as he bypassed the seating area and went back to the kitchen only to reemerge a moment later.
"Pay the bill, darling," she spat at Hodges as she got up from the booth, sliding past him. "I'm going to powder my nose."
August 20, 1951, 6pm
In Noe Valley, Jessica could never be Jessica. She was always Julianne, sweet and compassionate former nurse whose child was the light of the neighborhood after her husband survived his time in France and came back only to die in the first weeks of being in Korea. She was friends with her neighbors and made Jell-O salads for anyone new to the area. She was the absolute dream. Jessica had gotten to know Julianne well enough to know that there were deep, complicated layers inside the woman with whom she shared a consciousness. The fight within her was hibernating but present. It was buried under a thick layer of insecurity and distrust that Jessica struggled to work through whenever she was allowed to take the reins.
Jessica steeled herself as she heard the front door open. Wiping her hands on her apron, she pulled a plate from the cabinet and served up a plate full of last night's leftovers. She'd chased Jerry away from the potatoes across the top to leave some for Harry. Harry was the last great hurdle that stood in Jessica's way. Julianne met him before they had joined the Bureau, when she was still working as a nurse. He'd come home from Korea having been patched up in the field and in deep recovery due to a particularly elusive bit of shrapnel in his gut. In no time at all, and without Jessica's approval, Julianne and Harry had married.
Harry was a good man. Genuinely good. He loved Jerry and he could hold an interesting conversation. He respected that Julianne's previous husband had died and that there was something lost that could never be recovered. When Julianne shied away from him, usually when it was actually Jessica that was present, he never lost his temper or asked her to reconsider. He didn't expect dinner when he got home or smack her across the face when she got lippy. He asked her opinion and listened when she had trouble.
As he walked into the kitchen, Harry greeted her with a smile and put his hands on her hips to pull her close. In these moments that were very clearly meant just for Julianne, Jessica tried to dissociate from the moment. She closed her eyes and put on a smile and let Julianne have this. It was in one of these moments that Jessica had learned Julianne's deepest secret. With Harry's hands on her hips, his forehead to hers, Julianne's body was flooded with an ocean of the deepest, most incredible loneliness. It made her bones feel heavy and her head unfocused. It was colored at the edges with guilt and it swallowed them up. In that moment, in that kitchen, Jessica felt it again, threatening to wash her away. Jessica could understand that deluge. She felt it in a way that was cosmic or mystical. Like an anchor to another time and place. Visions danced in her mind of a man, unshaven and ridiculous, with a wide smile and a baby on his hip.
"Tell me about your day, beautiful." It was a slow descent back into the room, and when she came back to him, his eyes were steady and blue.
"Same old thing. How about yours?"
August 20, 1951, 11:30pm
Warning: Red Scare, anti-immigration.
Jessica wondered if Peggy Carter had ever had to sneak out of her own home in the night once the baby and the husband were asleep. Jessica had met Peggy a few times just after being recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D. She had the air of a woman made of stone and honey. In the early days, Jessica had been rather uneasy about a life working for the government. She'd thought S.H.I.E.L.D. would turn her into a faceless traitor. But Peggy had eased those worries with a cup of tea. As no-nonsense as Peggy was on assignment, she was always kind and understanding. If she thought hard enough, Jessica could still hear her refined, warm voice.
"Us girls from old Blighty need to stick together."
What Jessica wouldn't have given to have Peggy with her there now. The music from the Luau Club was resting on the late night wind, which had gone chilly as soon as the sun had gone down. Goosbumps dotted Jessica's flesh underneath her evening dress and the lingering domestic smell of onions being fried in butter belied the excitable air of a club district. Even with a club full of youngsters two floors below her feet, Jessica could have sworn the entire city was asleep. In the blue night, she could make out one or two yellow lamps in the distance, but there was a deep stillness around her on the roof of Gilbert's Deli.
After hiking up her skirts, she'd climbed up the side of the building, unable to locate Hodges anywhere inside the Luau Club where they were meant to meet. There hadn't been any movement on the kitchen side of the building, so she thought the tip they'd gotten maybe had something to do with the apartment above the deli. There was a small light coming from one of the upstairs windows and it was a short climb up to it. Instead of a meeting encouraging riots and the overthrow of the government, there was a woman, darning an old sock and a man asleep on the sofa. Jessica watched them for a moment before moving to the next window. In the darkness, she could make out the sleeping form of a teenager, his belongings strewn about the room as if he'd just dropped them, a Stanford pennant given pride of place above his bed. She watched them, this small family, peaceful and very in the middle of their own lives, for a long while more before climbing back up to the roof. Their tip was wrong.
Jessica's attention was pulled to the street as three police cars approached the building. Scrambling down the side of the building, she met up with them as officers flooded the deli, their sights set on the stairs up to the apartment. Lewis, short and squat, and Hodges, tall and smug, were waiting beside one of the vehicles, supervising the chaos. Jessica's shoes clapped against the asphalt as she approached them, her face etched with confusion and rage.
"These people are not the people we're looking for, Lewis. I've already observed them. They're just up there. Sleeping."
Hodges responded for Lewis, stepping between her and their captain, his once-fine face withered into a satisfied and thin-lipped husk. Reaching out, he touched the shoulder of her dress, smirking. He was not dressed for a night out. He hadn't come to this part of town as George White.
"The man who came to see them this afternoon was a Jap, Drew. Left with a quickness, too. They're Red. They've got pamphlets behind that coin box and all. Like I told you. You should leave the detective work to the detectives. Now, go home, take off that dress, honey, and make yourself useful."
Jessica had never lost control in this place. She'd been very careful about that. She knew her power and she also knew that women had a place in this world. The voltage she could put through the man in front of her could kill him in a second, but that did not seem quite so satisfying in that moment. Her fist on its own was enough for her, and she felt her knuckles bruise as they made contact with Hodges's face. A fist could kill a man, too, and Jessica couldn't bring herself to care about whether the shards of bones behind his nose were now turning his brain into Swiss cheese. When he dropped to the ground, whimpering over the fountain of blood coming from his face, she stepped over him to address Lewis.
"Lewis, this isn't right. These people are not who we're looking for. They're just a family."
"Drew, listen to me. This family are Red. Hodges got the pamphlets." Jessica looked over her shoulder as the family were pulled from their home, the torn sock still in the woman's hand. Tears were streaming down the woman's face as she pleaded with the officers, wailing when her son was brought out with them.
"This isn't right, Lewis! You can't do this to people."
"Now, that's where you're wrong, kiddo. Did you read the paper this morning? McCarran says five million aliens have come into this country. Now, we're fighting a war over in Korea to keep the Reds back and keep this country free. And it's our job to make sure people follow the law and aren't a threat to that freedom. Cubans, Russians, Sicilians. All of them want to come here and destroy what we have and these people want to give them a place to do that. That's why we do this job. That's why we took a chance on you. You catch the bad guys, you go home."
The frustration Jessica felt, if she dared manifest it through her hands, could have powered the entire city for a month. Putting her hands into her hair, she felt short of breath as the family were put into the backs of the cars.
"The papers will know that this isn't right. This won't stick."
"Drew, we made three arrests last night and old Marshall the bookie's still on the front page. This isn't going to be in the papers. No one wants to see a Red in their neighborhood."
Turning around, Jessica gasped. There was a pull inside her head. That same deep anchor presenting itself to her now, inexplicably. A hole was forming in her head, 32 years of certainty falling out of it onto the street in front of her. Through the chasm in her skull, she could see something familiar yet too bright, too colorful. There were sleek lines and neon lights.
"This isn't right. It isn't right. You can't do this."
Turning on her heel, she moved to look at Lewis and he was gone, replaced with cold, empty air. Around her, there was loud music, much louder than anything she ever remembered hearing. The clothes were strange as well, ripped at the knee, long hair on men and women. Taking a deep gulp of salty air, Jessica's head caught up with the rest of her body. Grabbing a man by the arm and gripping just a bit too hard, she asked him the time.
The man stared at her incredulously before checking his cell phone. Cell phone.
"It's Midnight."