9539/Confidence in the Field

Confidence in the Field
Date of Scene:	08 January 2022
Location:	Grand Central Station
Synopsis:	Peggy comes to give Jonathan some big news and words of encouragement. Oh, and promotion cookies.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Peggy Carter
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

---

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    It's thanks to the ingenuity and drive of Michael Erickson, aka Red Sentinel, that Grand Central Terminal is able to be used as a bunker of sorts for the resistance against the Armies of the Host. The Main Concourse doesn't have as many people as it would on a normal day, but the lower levels are slowly filling up with those who've come to have a place to be safe, SHIELD agents, others from different groups.

    Jon doesn't really have a 'command center' to speak of or anything; he's left that to the Red Sentinel. There's a room he uses off the Main Concourse for private things like the hour he's taking each day to contact the families of the dead, but otherwise he mostly does his work out in the open so people can see him. Right now he can be found in one of the dining concourses, eating from a takeaway container of chow mein and broccoli beef, provided by a food vendor that decided to stay and keep his stall open to help out. He's going over paperwork, but could definitely be talked to, should someone have come in via one of the portalers they've got helping out.

Peggy Carter has posed:
With some assistance from the mutants, though Peggy had made some promises not to go into the field, she does at least go to the base where they are operating. She needs to see it for herself. Needs to check in on her people. And needs to have a talk with a certain Archivist.

She's in her tac suit, though it doesn't really fit proper. The things are made to be form fitting and her jacket isn't quite made for the form she has right now. The pants are still fitting, barely, but she's wearing the jacket open across some more generic, light body armor. Her hair is pinned back and ready for battle, just in case a fight breaks out. She's carrying a large thermos, probably with fresh hot tea, and a small box of cookies. "...Knock knock." she calls into the room with a faint, worried smile.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's wearing a tac suit as well, and there's brow lines developing, a vague air of 'tired' about him. His hair is getting long enough that he ought to start thinking about either cutting it or pulling it back, but for now it's mussed like he's run his hands through it a dozen too many times.

    He looks up at the voice and smiles brightly. "Ahh, Chief! Come, ahh, sit, please." He gestures to the chair across the table from him and starts straightening the paperwork, stacking it more neatly. "Guess it's your turn to visit me in my... 'office?' Did you, umm... did you portal down here, or...?" Worried for her safety, certainly.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Portaled. I portaled. I've still been in touch with the Brotherhood. They are... surprisingly helpful." Peggy was wary about help from the often disliked mutant group, but they've been invaluable in a lot of ways and she's clearly been willing to take a leap of trust here. She takes a few more steps forward to him, offering the thermos and little box.

"Gunpowder black tea. Biscuits. It still should be hot, it's one of those Yeti thermoses. They keep things warm forever, I'm told. Certainly better than what we had in the war. But then... you're not on rations yet either." It's a small tease, trying to lighten the mood just a bit, but she knows that's hard right now. "How... how are you holding up?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon reaches up to take the tea and the box of cookies, smiling in a way that finally manages to properly touch his eyes. "Martin keeps bringing me tea when he's not busy, but as one of the healers... he's busy. And I think I might have to send him out to gather intelligence." That cannot be an easy thing to contemplate, from the tightening around Jon's eyes, but he shakes that off and moves on.

    He sets down the box of cookies and goes to open the thermos, sighing. "Glad we're not on rations yet, but then, we've got magic to bring in supplies and a world /mostly/ not dealing with this conflict. Funny how when the stakes are so high the battlefield is so small." He takes a gulp of tea and sighs again. "I'm... holding. Managing. Trying to... sort through things." He waves a hand at the paperwork. "Coordinating all these different groups--like the Brotherhood--who want to help and yet all have different agendas and mindsets is... tiring, I'll admit."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The dark eyed woman studies him quietly, trying to actually get a sense of how he is doing, not just the strong face he's putting forward. Peg finally gives him a small nod, though her eyes are a little more sad as he mentions sending Martin on an intelligence gathering mission. "Just... when he comes back, take some time to be with him? This is probably going to be a long fight. If you don't take time to be... human, it will take the human out of you. It'll kill something in you. Don't let this fight kill you even if it never hurts your body." She whispers gently, a firm worry behind her voice.

She then moves over to settle somewhere, sinking into a chair and crossing her long legs as she tries to protect an air of ease. She wants him to take a few moments to relax. "Sit. Talk to me a few minutes. The reports can wait. Things are... quiet for the moment. Or so I'm told."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns down at the table for a moment. Then he says, very quietly, "This fight is going to kill me, Peggy. It's... foreordained, my role in the game. To die for the cause. My personal goal right now is to figure out how to keep that from sticking." He says that like it's just... a fact to be dealt with, and reaches out to open the box of cookies, pulls one out.

    He looks up and smiles, tightly. Tired, already, clearly. "But... that being said... I'm making time, with Martin. As much as I can manage. He knows what's coming, and we're... we're talking. A lot more than we used to, actually. I'm... making time to be with friends. Because I know, even if it wasn't 'fated'... things happen."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The sadness in her eyes deepens just a bit more hearing that. Peggy's lips press. She's not a woman who gives up easily or lets her people die. "If... if you want switched out. If you want to get out of this fight, even for a few days, you tell me and I'll get you both out of here. We can find... Other agents. No one is Atlas. Don't let yourself be. Alright?" Peggy knows the answer already, pretty much. But she's got to offer it to him. She searches for his eyes, trying to make certain he knows how deadly serious she is about that.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head. "I can't, Peggy. I /can't/. I'm trying to come home to the Triskelion, but..." He sighs. "I took some time, before this. I'll take some time later... I'm going to /need/ time, later. Right now... I need to be here, visible. Coordinating. I don't think... this won't last long, I don't think. We have until mid-February until our little trick to weaken the angels wears off, and I'm told this will be done by Easter. I can hold out a little while."

    He sighs and considers the cookie for a moment. "Things are quiet because we need to regroup and re-think. I... came at this all wrong, and nearly 50 people died in the first battle, while the angels just got /stronger/. I didn't want to think of it as a war, I focused down the road where I was told ultimately fighting won't solve this. And people died. So I need to..." He gestures at the paperwork. "I'm planning teams to scout some areas the angels are trying to move in and hold. I need to get near St. Patrick's, to get some information myself. We need to figure out how to... sabotage, how to sow dissension if we can." He frowns. "And I need to go talk to an injured Hell Lord. That's a weird thing to say."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That's exactly what Peggy thought he was going to say. She gives him a slightly grim smile, sad understanding behind her own tired eyes. A slight nod comes in acceptance, "yes, well... I figured as much. But the offer is there. As for changing strategies, I'm sending more supplies in. Sonic grenades for concussive blasts and flame throwers. Agent Becker mentioned that grenades seem to work against them. We don't know if that was fire or the force, so I'm sending you a lot of back up of both. If you can think of any other supplies... SHIELD is at your back. Just ask me. And if you need more eyes, you know, I could go out there too." Peggy's smile turns a bit more. She almost hopes he'll say yes.

"But... along with supplies, I wanted to give you something else." She reaches into her jacket, pulling out a slim, generic envelope. She passes it over in his direction. If he opens it, there is a new badge inside. Rank pins. A lanyard. A small folded piece of paper.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Earbuds," Jon says thoughtfully, not looking at the envelope at first. "Caitlin Fairchild made Becker bleed from the ears, and the Bible talks about the voices of angels being painful... I have noise-canceling earbuds from another group," he taps at his ear, "so it didn't affect me. They work with speedsters regularly so it can filter out a sonic boom. I can probably get more from them if SHIELD doesn't have the tech but that's a lot of people to cover."

    Then he finally looks down, sticks the cookie in his mouth, and opens the envelope. Blinks slowly as he pulls out the badge, the pins, the lanyard. The cookie sits forgotten in his mouth as he looks them over and then opens the piece of paper.

    "I don't... understand," he says slowly, around the cookie.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The smile on Peggy's face is complicated. It's not exactly sad, but there is the edge of a parent there who knows she has to let go. She's also clearly proud. There is a happiness, a joy, to seeing someone grow the way she has seen him. She stands up, reaching for the Lanyard to carefully pull it out of the envelope and shift it around his neck. It's a little nerdy, but it's how SHIELD does things.

"For all the excellent work you have done, the certifications you have passed, and considering the extrordinary circumstances under which you are operating, you have been promoted to full agent, effective immediately. In addition to that, you have been temporarily appointed field commander with all the duties and privileges that come with a field command position. For the Manhattan operation, you will operate as a senior agent. You have all the command of SHIELD behind you, can requisition any equipment you need, including more ear buds, without need to contact me or any other senior agent. This is your operation, Jonathan. And Agent Becker's report, while being thorough, proved you worthy the position. Congratulations, Agent Sims."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon finally pulls the cookie out of his mouth, having bit off half of it in the shock of the lanyard going around his neck. Chews, and swallows, to clear his mouth to talk. "I..."

    He can't think of what to say.

    "Thank you," he manages finally. "I... thank you. I will... do my best to live up to the honor. I didn't... really expect..." He finally reads what's on the paper and gasps. "A... /medal/? I..."

    His cheeks are flushed /dark/. Very dark. And the tips of his ears, too. Clearly he's not used to the idea of... doing a good job? Or being told he's doing a good job. He clears his throat. "Thank you," he repeats. "We'll make good use of the resources."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The smile she was wearing blossoms even more, especially as she sees how much he is blushing. Peggy looks quietly delightd, finding little scraps of joy where ever she can. "Daniel baked you those cookies special. A little celebration, since we couldn't throw you a proper party about it. But I figured you wouldn't leave the front lines anyway, so this is the best we can do. The medal is... On order. I needed to get it from DC and considering the urgency of things, I figured you'd prefer the promotion now than waiting on a bunch of Washington bureaucrats."

Her hand comes over, resting on his shoulder and giving it a gentle, warm squeeze. She leans over enough to try and catch his eyes, meeting gaze to gaze, her smile unwavering. "This is well deserved, Jonathan. You can *do* this. You already are doing it. This just... makes everything official. You'll still need to pass the rest of your certifications when the crisis is over -- which means you MUST survive this crisis. But... I have confidence you will."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I've been practicing," Jon says fervently. "Training with Becker and Wilson. I'm confident I can pass the certs whenever there's time... and I'm certain I'll be /better/ able once this is over." He manages to smile. He really is happy.

    "I'm going to survive," he adds. "I've too many people who can't afford to lose me--and I know people who've been to the Underworld and might know how I can barter to get back. The gods themselves aren't happy with this whole 'fated to die' business, so I'm /sure/ there's a loophole somewhere. I just have to... find it. But don't worry, Peggy. I won't die for good." He smirks. "I'd hate to stick you with a thirteen-year-old Archivist, after all. That'd be worse than dealing with Gran."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A little groan escapes her lips at the thought of a teenage archivist. "I've raised one teenager in my life already... Hell, I remember raising two." That's complicated and Peggy doesn't talk a lot about what happened in the Framework, but she does understand teenagers. She sinks back down into the chair she had taken, crossing her legs and leaning back. Almost relaxed, though it's probably a show to attempt and get him to relax as well. "I'd take care of her. Hell, I'd probably take her into my own home, but... I have confidence that won't be necessary. And now you have every resource I have at your fingertips. And there are already ear plug communicators on the way, so your team can talk to each other but hear nothing else."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon chuckles. "I've saddled myself with several teenagers and young people to mentor. They're a handful, but... definitely worth the time. And Agnes will have Martin, and... others, who already know and care about her. She'll be fine. But she needs time, to grow up, and get the training I didn't have."

    He lets out a long breath, then sticks the pins and the paper and the badge in a pocket of his tactical vest. "Well," he says with a grin, "at least Martin doesn't outrank me anymore. Not that it ever really came up."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I'm certain he can still boss you around where it matters." Peggy states completely deadpanned, like she just didn't make a sex joke. It's followed with a secertive little grin, mock innocent, as she leans over to steal one of the cookies she brought him. "I never get promotion cookies any more. I don't think they'll make me Director again. So, I need to steal everyone else's." She hides that grin behind a good bite of the sweet and buttery shortbread. They are excellent, deep butter in them with sea salt and rosemary on time.

"Now.. Happier things done, is there anything else you want from me or wish to report to me? I got a full run down from Agent Becker on her side of the battle, but... it's different coming from the one who lead. And sometimes it feels good to... talk these things out loud. So, while you have me... Please. Let me help. Any way I can." Peggy is desperate to help, restless inside that she isn't in the middle of the fight.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's ears burn at that. "I mean... he doesn't... that's not... oh, bloody hell." He grabs another cookie and focuses on that, because promotion cookies are much better to focus on that your Chief making jokes about your marriage at your expense. Hmph.

    He eats the cookie before he replies, the embarassment fading slowly. "It was..." He sighs, and shakes his head. "Even with a level playing field... they are organized and focused, where we are rather ragtag in comparison. Facing them head-on is a fool's game. Even with an army of the undead... Becker and Lady Death, between them, killed Michael and all it did was cause him to explode, revive all the angels that had died, and re-form."

    He taps a stack of paperwork. "I'm already moving us to a different footing. Asymmetrical warfare. Stealth, sabotage, ambushes. Right at the moment we're trying to figure out what they want, here in Manhattan. I had thought perhaps they would just come after us, or fortify the whole city, but they seem to have specific goals in mind. I'm working on getting intel on that."

    He hesitates, then says quietly, "I screwed up, Peggy. I didn't want to fight, so I didn't treat it like a battle. I didn't get the intelligence I should have ahead of time, I didn't ensure we were /allied/ with the other forces I knew would be there--this formerly-mortal Hell Lord, about the only help from 'Hell' I'll accept--and I didn't have enough of a plan beyond 'try to talk to Michael.' I didn't research Fairchild's /normal/ abilities--the woman can throw a damn car! And... it didn't occur to me that I wouldn't be able to directly attack the angels. I'll be supporting and shielding, but that's what I'm best at anyway." He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm fixing all of that, but... that doesn't bring back the dead."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Jon..." Peggy starts quietly, finishing off her cookie and then reaching a hand across the space between them. She rests her hand against his knee. She's trying to give him not just moral support, but some physical reassurance. The pad of her thumb runs up and down the edge of his knee, the touch motherly in a way that most bosses probably aren't. But this is Peggy Carter. She practically is all of SHIELD's mom.

"None of us wanted this to be a fight. As a head on fight this is going to be impossible to win. This isn't just you. If I... I had thought it was going to be a fight, wasn't some awful, miserable test by some Angel, I should have given you more back up too. Called in the reserves, the military. Not just SHIELD and mutants. But I didn't want it to be true. I didn't want to... I thought this was a test. And if we met it with human violence, we would fail. Now I see this thing is not an Angel. It's just another monster. And you see that too. So, we pivot, we get more resources here, and we survive. But we will do this *together*. Alright? You're not alone in this. You don't shoulder just the blame, either."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He created the world, Peggy. Or, well, shaped it by his hand. It's like finding out your parents think you're... deformed, and awful." Jon frowns. He never did have to face any of that, from his parents at least. "I hate everything about this. Just... all of it. Well, except meeting Gaea, I suppose. She was nice." He smiles, taking the comfort as it's meant.

    "How do you... handle it? People dying? I mean, practically speaking. I took the statements of the SHIELD agents we lost, but I figured someone higher up the chain would deal with the... contacting the families." He frowns. "I've had to do that before, a couple of times. Lost a couple of patients to suicide. Becker came down on me for holing myself up, calling the families of the civilians." He smiles, fondly, but it's brief. "Cut it down to an hour a day, but it has to get done. I mean... who else is going to do it for them?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I've... talked to a lot of families about the worst when it happens. When I was in the SSR and most people thought I was no better than a secretary..." Peggy gives a tired, nostalgic laugh, one hand dragging across her eyes for a moment, "Well, they said I should do it because a woman's voice was more... Gentle. The families would take it better. Even majors and generals in the army didn't want to have to do it. So, I always did."

She sinks back in her chair, eyes very distant for a few moments. She looks her age for a few strange moments, her eyes so much heavier than the 29 years of her face. "I remember when they told us my brother died. In the war. My mother screamed. I... almost passed out. It was the worst feeling in the world. It changed my whole life. But someone came to our house. Told us. Honored his service. Reminded me... why we fight. Hell. That's why I joined the SOE, honestly. I don't know if there would be a SHIELD if someone didn't drive to north London and knock on our door that afternoon. It's the least we can do for others. So their family... knows. It doesn't get easier. But it's always just as important. Whether it's your first time or your fiftith. That being said, once more, you do NOT have to do this alone. Give me more of the civilian names. Let Daniel and I help. I'm already handling the SHIELD agents. We can do more. Their family's won't... have to wonder. I promise. But don't keep it all on your shoulders. Or you will break before this is over."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon nods slowly. "I... the way SHIELD helped when Lyra died and Martin was injured... it's stuck with me. Knowing that someone cared that our daughter died in that attack, that Martin had been hurt." He smiles. "I've defended SHIELD more than once now it's known publicly, because of that. So I think I understand what you mean."

    He swallows a moment, then nods. "I just... didn't figure... I don't know. I figured it was my responsibility. And it is, to... do better. But Becker was right--I can't sit around calling people all day, and there are going to be more deaths. So I'll send you and Daniel some of the names. But... I have to do some of it myself, and I have to take their statements. It's... part of what I am? Part of..."

    He frowns. "Everyone that's died in this, from the start, is dead because of Michael Demiurgos. And I started doing this because I exist, in part, to keep monsters like him in check. And that's not all on me, but I do have to keep a part of it."

Peggy Carter has posed:
One last squeeze is given to his knee and Peggy then pulls back, nodding in approval to his words. She knows. She's not going to argue it. "Take... take the ones you recognize. The few the moment you see their photo, you know what happened. You remember them. Even if it's only 4 or 5. Give Daniel and I the rest. You will be able to tell their families more and give them better peace if they know you remember who their people are. Alright? I'm not saying you can't do any. But no, you can't do it all."

A sad, grief laden, but understanding smile pulls across her tired face at his very last words. "I'm glad to hear that you know it's Michael Demiurgos' fault, and not yours. You can grieve for these people. You can keep leading. But you can't take that guilt. That is the one thing that isn't yours to carry. Don't dare pick it up, or I'll have to come down here and give you a proper lecture instead of a promotion."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Perhaps not my fault... but my responsibility. I called them here. I'm Gaea's Champion. For whatever /that/ means." Jon smirks. "I have plenty of people reminding me not to take it all on myself--some of whom are rather insistent that the universe cannot /possibly/ come down to the choices of /one/ person. I'm rather inclined to agree, if only because I think it's terribly unfair to everyone in the universe."

    The smirk becomes something more genuine. "But... we've got this. I know we do. It will be difficult, and terrible, and I'm certain at some point I'll look back on my statement of faith and think I was daft and blind, but... for right now? I know we've got this."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That makes Peggy smile a little bit wider. She gives him a single nod further and then stands with that neat, prim square of her shoulders. Normally she does it when she's behind her desk and ready to show someone out, but today she's in his office. "Well then, Jon, I think... I know you have a lot to do, and if there isn't anything else you need from me here, I'll get out of your hair. But I am one phone call away. I'll make certain those supplies are dropped off and settled in with your team before I go. Is there anything else, Field Commander?" She grins while using the title.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks at her for a moment. 'Field Commander.' That's... going to take getting used to. "Ahh... no, not at the moment. I'll complete my review of our supply situation and call in whatever we might be missing." A pause. "...I'll get on those earbud requisitions right away, actually."

    A pause, and then, genuinely, "Thank you for coming by, Peggy. And... if you get a chance, I know... I know the agents around here would be bolstered, seeing you. Even if you can't fight alongside us, seeing you here would help, I'm sure."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"That's the plan. They're your soldiers but they're my people too. I'll spend time with as many as I can, pass out the new ear plugs and the like. It'll be good to see them. Good fighting, soldier. Keep that faith." With that, Peggy turns on the ball of her foot and heads towards the door. Unless he stops her, she disappears out to see the other people in the field. True to her word, she spends hours there, going between civilian and SHIELD agent, treating them all the same.