author's note: Important: You must read Scarlet Cross, before starting this, otherwise you won't have a clue what's happening.

Well, hello there.

I couldn't wait much longer, and had to get back to this series. I have no idea how the first chapter will be received, but expect a speedy update. Thank you for reading, and do leave feedback. I very much appreciate response from you lovely readers.

The story starts just where we left off.

Enjoy!

In Bloom
1.

No more than two days pass, and their mission is nearly over. Boots splattered with dirt, battledress wet from the rain, heavy on their backs; a pathetic shield for their aching limbs. Her rifle clutched in one hand, she looks to her companion. They only have each for company, and have spoken very little. Yet, somehow, they manage to work as a team.

They dash across the field, camouflaged in the dark. As far as stealth is concerned, both agents are brilliant at it. They haven't been spotted, and, as should be expected, no kills have been made in their travels. The camp they intend to infiltrate is ahead of them. Wisely, they stop, go over their plan again. Neither pray, neither hope––they just do. Her companion stands first, gradually proceeds closer and closer towards the camp.

Peggy waits until Dottie is near enough. Immediately, she's running, too fast to be spotted. Claiming her binoculars, she checks that one of the Japanese soldiers is still maintaining his usual patrol. From where she is, she can shoot him dead, but Peggy wants to avoid that. She needs to get in without shedding blood. And she has done this plenty of times; this is nothing new to her.

Except, all of those other times, she wasn't alone with Dorothy Underwood.

Go.

She moves, rifle bouncing against her back as her feet trudge through the dirt.

The Japanese soldier hears a noise. Retrieves his weapon.

Peggy knocks him out cold from behind. She will have to trust Dottie from hereon. Now, it's all up to her. Peggy manoeuvres out of sight. Carefully, she peers around the corner of one of the small shelters, and identifies a group of soldiers talking a few metres ahead. Not too far from where they stand is Howard's invention. Whether or not she'll be able to reach the building is something Peggy isn't entirely sure of.

And she's usually sure.

To her relief, the soldiers separate.

One of them heads in her direction.

Peggy takes a step back, waits for him to come into view.

Her heel smacks into his mouth, and he falls back. She speedily hides him out of sight, and wastes no time in venturing further. It is slow, but thorough work. Peggy crouches, peers around the corner. Two men. Peggy can try and take them down. Try. However, it is a huge risk.

One of the soldiers groans quietly, and Peggy looks back just in time to see Dottie perform the most elegant form of martial arts she's witnessed. Peggy swallows, makes sure the coast is clear, and joins to meet her companion. Dottie's eyes glimmer in the moonlight. Peggy watches her as Dottie hurries on.

That was not basic SSR training.

That was something else.

And Peggy is certain that she is helping Dottie, not Dottie helping Peggy.

Their efforts prove worthwhile. Unfortunately, the building they want to enter is guarded, but it's nothing for Peggy and apparently Dottie. Dottie gestures that she will go on ahead first. Peggy can follow. Peggy doesn't object, but she's not willing to let Dottie reach Howard's invention without her.

She's so fast.

Dottie fights as if in a dance.

The soldiers don't even know she's there before it's too late.

Peggy charges forward and slams the heel of her rifle into a soldier's temple. Dottie has already entered without her. Peggy is fast, though, and she does not like to be beaten. This is a race, and she hopes her hunch about Dottie is incorrect.

A Japanese soldier yells out at them.

Dottie grins. 'Show time.'

Peggy is horrified they have been caught, but doesn't stand around. She dodges a bullet, runs over and trips the soldier up. She doesn't have time to deal with him. Another soldier yanks her back, mutters something in Japanese. Peggy knocks her head back, hitting him square in the face. Before she can wind him, Dottie passes the two––it's as if she flew, so graceful, so smoothly––and breaks his neck.

Then the two women are a blur in a crowd of soldiers. From the corner of her eye, Peggy sees Dottie jump into the air, land on an officer's shoulders, and turn his neck at an ugly angle. Peggy slides out of the way. Her knee lands in a soldier's crotch, her hand smacks another in the cheek, her hand grasps a soldier's arm, and she kicks him in the chest––hard. He exclaims, collapses, and she's instantly onto her next opponent, then two, then three at once, and it's all limbs and blood and bones crushing together.

The battle ends abruptly.

A pistol is pressed to a survivor's forehead. He glares up at the women.

Peggy's Japanese is clear. She demands to know where Mister Howard Stark's weapon has been stored, and that this delightful gentleman must take her to it. Right now. Dottie smiles crookedly, more than eager to finish this soldier off, but she remains put, eyes on Peggy. She does not blink.

Reluctantly, the soldier escorts them to the correct room.

Peggy looks left and right in case anyone else is after them. Dottie grabs the soldier by his hair, and whams him into the wall. There is a disturbing crack as his skull shatters. Peggy stares at the damage, uncertain what to feel. She looks up at Dottie, who is smiling at her now, excited and deranged.

'I do love working with you, Peggy,' she whispers.

'The fun has only started, my dear.'

Peggy opens the door.

And there it is.

Howard's damned weapon.

A tiny thing. Encased in a wooden box, handcrafted by the inventor himself. Peggy doesn't know the exact details of the weapon, but, currently, she has no interest. Dottie waits at the door, allowing Peggy to enter and take the box. Peggy exhales, relieved and proud of their work. She slips off the rifle, leaning it against the wall. They will be able to return to New York, they will hand back the weapon, and then Peggy can return to Angie and––

Angie.

The very thought of her makes Peggy feels nauseous, so Peggy forces her mind to think about the weapon instead. She needs to get out, she needs to be safe, she needs to survive. Peggy carefully lifts the box into her gloved hands.

'Good work, Underwood,' she says.

And the door slams shut.

Peggy turns.

Dottie peels off her left glove, and then her right, flinging them over her shoulder.

'Yes, Peggy Carter. Very good work. I couldn't have done this without you.'

Peggy presses the box to her chest. 'What are you talking about?'

'Oh, don't act so silly, Peggy. You're not silly at all. You know exactly what I'm talking about.' Dottie smiles. She always smiles, her beautiful face so disturbing and eyes filled with hunger and thrill. 'Now, let's make this easier for the two of us, okay? Hand me over the weapon, and I'll let you go.'

'You'll have to try harder than that, agent.'

Dottie laughs. It's musical. 'I knew you'd be a challenge, and I love challenges.'

'Clearly you are not an agent of the SSR. Are you willing to tell me who you work for? Or do I have to guess?'

'Aw, but if I told you, Pegs, it would spoil all the fun.'

'You have a very sick idea of fun.'

'Oh? You've just realised, my sweetheart?' Dottie smiles. 'She'll miss you, Pegs. She'll miss you a lot when I'm finished with you, but I'll make sure she pulls through. I'm very good company. Your friend, Howard, would agree with me. Tell me, how do you think your Angela will feel once I tell her you died in the hands of your enemy?'

Peggy hates her.

It is the most irrational and heated emotion she has ever endured.

She should have known.

Oh, Peggy, you fool. She should have known Dottie was a traitor, that she had an ulterior motive. There was always something about her which Peggy didn't like, but she never knew what or why.

But the way she talks about Howard. The way she talks about Angie.

'Just like your dear Captain.'

Peggy steps back. She lowers the box back onto the table, eyes on Dottie constantly while the blonde comes closer and closer. Her feet light on the floor, body upright, head held high, confident, gorgeous, and so very dangerous.

'Or, maybe I'll finish her off too. At least, then, you'll be with the people you love most.'

Peggy kicks her waist. Dottie slaps her boot away, lunges at her, her fist almost reaching Peggy's face, but Peggy grabs her wrists, twists them at a painful angle. She tries to flip the woman over, yet Dottie is laughing and she won't allow defeat. Before Peggy can put her strength into practice, Dottie's heel hits her chest, her stomach; Peggy grabs Dottie's hair, shoves her forward, headbutts her, her knee jutting into her solar plexus, hand jolting out to stab at her neck.

They race. Hands, feet, arms and legs here, there and everywhere. Their eyes manage to follow each other, their skin collides, bones meet and break. Peggy takes on the defence, having to barricade herself from Dottie's almighty blows. She takes several steps back, managing to block her speedy attacks. They're all a blur. They all feel like one movement, Dottie is ridiculously agile, and she never once is out of breath.

Blood bursts from Peggy's lips. Dottie has punched her mouth, making Peggy accidentally bite down on her lip. Her mouth fills with the disgusting taste of blood, and she venomously spits the scarlet liquid in Dottie's face. This catches the woman temporarily off guard. Peggy kicks her so fiercely, Dottie loses balance and collapses onto her back. But she jumps up immediately, on her feet, hands out and ready to fight again.

Peggy wipes her mouth, chest heaving. She snatches the nearest item she can find: a metal pole of some sort. Peggy swirls it in her grasp, watches Dottie closely, watches her feet, sliding across the floor, her open palms, focussed eyes.

Impish grin.

'I used to be jealous of girls like you. I would have done anything to walk like you, to talk like you.' A laugh. She's delirious. Mad. 'But now, I can be anybody I want.'

One of them attacks first; Peggy isn't sure who.

What happens next neither really expect. The pole in Peggy's hand smashes into Dottie's head. Blood explodes everywhere. But Dottie is still standing. Her left eye twitches, and she growls at Peggy, eyeing the pole and then back at her. Peggy doesn't know how Dottie is still conscious.

Dottie lunges at her. Peggy's back slams into the wall, arms immobilised under Dottie's weight as the blonde presses both hands onto each side of Peggy's head, and pushes.

The amount of pain soaring from Peggy's scalp to all over her face is unbearable. Dottie tries to crush Peggy's skull, eyes wide and menacing, blood dripping off her chin. Peggy yells, scrunching her eyes shut, grimacing; the pole escapes her grip.

No. She will not die here. Not here.

Not now.

Peggy doesn't know how she does it.

She slams down on Dottie's foot, crushing her toes. Dottie's grip on her loosens. Peggy elbows her in the face, and they're stabbing at each other again, hands and boots everywhere. A match between two equally brilliant soldiers. Peggy is slightly dazed from Dottie's recent blow, but she recovers speedily, kicking, punching, clawing, and pulling. Dottie tries to kick Peggy's knee, but misses, and it is Peggy who takes control of the situation.

In less than a second, Peggy spins around and lands a spinning hook kick, knocking Dottie off balance. She collides into the table, her head bashing into the wood. Blood trickles onto the floor, and the woman doesn't move.

Peggy waits, waits, waits.

Comes closer. Feels her pulse.

Nothing.

Dottie Underwood is dead.

No time to waste. Peggy is on the move again. She ignores the burning sensation building in the pit of her stomach, the ache in her head, how much agony her entire body is in. She grabs the box with Howard's weapon stored inside. That wanker had better be bloody grateful for what she has done. Idiot.

Absolute idiot.

Peggy turns on her heel. Rushes for the door.

Bang!

The box smashes. Peggy's knees snap beneath her. The bullet is wedged far into her back, and she can feel the blood pool at her waist. Peggy sways, the smashed box at her knees. Her spine singes, like fire, burning, corroding into her flesh, her bones, her soul.

Until, suddenly, it eases. The night seems to wrap itself around her, and she's cold, and calm, and okay.

Nothing hurts anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. Everything, oh everything, is so much more blissful, and it's so much easier to breathe.

Dottie crouches down, Peggy's rifle in her hand, recently fired. She hooks her finger under Peggy's chin so their gaze is level.

And Peggy is certain she has seen a demon. The Devil's servant. Dottie was never dead, after all. Even if she lacked a pulse.

Her face is torn, painted in red, and smiling.

'I'm sorry to leave you like this,' she mumbles. 'I always found you such a pretty thing.' Her face draws near, and she kisses Peggy's bleeding lips, soft, like that of a ghost. 'Rest peacefully, Agent Carter.'

Peggy slumps forwards, and her body gives out. She doesn't see Dottie take the weapon, doesn't see Dottie open the door and bolt it shut behind her. She doesn't see the blood ooze through her jacket, and as she lays there, ready for death's final embrace, she closes her eyes, easing into the pain, and thinks about the girl she left behind.