A/N: Very happy to see I'm not the only one loving this pairing. Thanks for the subscribes, faves and reviews.

As per always my story varies from the original and this one might go in a completely different direction than the show.

Leave me a review to let me know what you think, I love to hear from you all. :)

~Elm

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DOTTIE'S THREE FACES

"Peggy, are you going to keep me in these cuffs all day?" Dottie raised her cuffed wrists demonstratively.

"I thought you'd feel more at home with them on," Peggy smiled. She was rewarded by Dottie's surprised face, which wasn't much of a reaction at all. Giving a soft chuckle she motioned towards the garage where Jarvis was working on something that might just get Dottie out of her shackles. Or so to speak. Peggy watched Dottie walk past her, head lowered, but no doubt busy plotting and scheming on how to make Peggy's life just a little bit more difficult.

The deadly assassin was still wearing the washed out blue dress she'd been given by the SSR, a bleak contrast to the dark hair and pale skin. Peggy let her gaze trail the length of Dottie's neck and she could see the barely visible twitch of a beating pulse on Dottie's neck. Freckles chased their way across the assasin's fair skin all the way from her neck down across her slender looking arms. Peggy snorted inwardly, Dottie may look like the slender ballerina she pretended to be, but she was anything but. Those slender arms belonged to one of the deadliest people Peggy had had the misfortune to meet. Well, maybe misfortune was a bit of an exaggeration…fighting Dottie had been such a rush.

Peggy had fought and beat a lot of men during her time with the SSR, but never before had she come across another woman of her own calibre. Of course Dottie was out to maim and kill, whereas Peggy wanted to keep people safe. Yes, there's that. Dottie was a psychopath through and through, everyone was an object she could use for her own agenda and nothing or no one could get in her way. No one beside Peggy, of course. Peggy smiled to herself.

"Find anything interesting?" Dottie's voice snapped Peggy out of her thoughts. Looking up she saw Dottie observer her with those flinty yet curious eyes and she felt her cheeks burn.

"Just making sure you're not trying to get out of those cuffs," Peggy replied brushing a few stubborn strands of hair from her face. The motion sent a sharp stab of pain through her side, her vision blurring momentarily from the intense pain. Exhaling slowly she grabbed the table next to her for support, the cold metal steadying her where she stood.

"Oh, Peggy you're real hurt," Dottie said, the satisfaction in her voice unmistakable.

Straightening herself up Peggy looked back at Dottie where she sat obediently, hands in her lap, an innocent look on her face. "Doesn't mean I couldn't kick your sweet arse again."

"Miss Carter," Jarvis looked up from the table. "I think we have something," he said and pushed up the black rimmed glasses that had slid down on to the tip of his nose.

"Let's have a look at it." Moving closer she craned her neck and peered across Jarvis' shoulder.

The nimble necklace stared up at her from its case, the diamonds twinkling with mischief. Oh boy…

"Pretty, wouldn't you say, Miss Carter?" Jarvis asked with a sense of pride as he held up the case.

"I'd be lying if I'd say no," Peggy confessed. She watched Jarvis put the case down remembering a time when something as trivial as diamonds and marriage seemed like the perfect life. Folding her arms across her chest she took a deep breath. If she had known then what her life would be like today...she almost shook her head, no, she could never have imagined this.

"Well," Jarvis said in his ever so calm voice. "It's not just a beautiful necklace, it's also a rather stunning...choker."

"A choker?" She raised her eyebrow.

"To ensure Miss Underwood's cooperation Mr Stark helped the SSR create this little gadget. Of course, I assembled it," Jarvis beamed before looking bashful. "But the blueprint was all Mr Stark."

"Yes, Jarvis, we got that," Peggy rolled her eyes at the butler. "Now will you be so kind and tell me what it does or shall I have to test it on you to find out?"

The butler swallowed looking fretful. "Not all Miss Carter. " He cleared his throat. "This necklace."

"Choker," Dottie corrected him from the other side of the table her lips pursed in dismay.

"Yes, it has a tracker device attached to it so Miss Underwood's location may be known at all times," he said looking from Peggy to Dottie and back to Peggy again.

"So even if she tries to run we'll be able to find her?"

"Exactly, Miss Carter."

"But," Peggy frowned, "I assume you've got some sort of countermeasure in case she removes it."

"Oh, of course," Jarvis snorted indignantly. "It has been fitted with a neurotoxic poison that -should Miss Underwood feel the need to remove the necklace- will be injected into her causing her a most excruciating death after 35 seconds." Jarvis shuddered.

"That's brilliant," Peggy nodded in approval. "She-"

"Is sitting right here, Pegs." Dottie glared daggers at her before smiling. "Does that mean I don't need these any more?" She asked in a silky voice.

"May I?" Peggy motioned towards the coral blue jewellery case. Jarvin gave a small nod and she picked up the necklace and turned to face Dottie. "Right, this beautiful choker has been specially made for you."

"How fabulous," Dottie's eyes followed her intently as Peggy rounded the table drawing to a stop in front of her. "I'll make sure to return the favour with a choker of my own someday."

Leaning in close Peggy let her arms wrap around Dottie's neck as she carefully placed the tracking device around the assasin's neck. Choker, she corrected herself. Fumbling for the clasp her fingertips brushed across the freckle speckled soft skin on Dottie's neck sending a jolt of static through her fingers. Jesus, Peggy it's just a clasp, get a grip.

"Are you alright, Peg?" Dottie asked playfully. "One would think you've never done this before."

Leaning backwards so that her face was in line with Dottie's, with her arms still wrapped around her neck, Peggy let her eyes lock with Dottie's blue orbs. "Make no mistake Dottie. I went to an all girls school." She lowered her voice to a murmur. "I've done this more times than I can count."

The clasp finally slid into place and Peggy stood back up with a satisfied smile. Placing her hands on her hips she turned around to see Sousa, Jarvis, Anna and Wilkes stare at them, confusion spelled across their faces.

"What?"

~o~

"Right," the SSR agent said as she dangled the handcuffs in the air in front of Dottie where she sat in the large living room of the Stark estate. "Since this seems to be your thing, I thought you might want these back for bedtime."

"Peggy!" Dottie feigned mild shock. "Shouldn't you at least buy me a drink first?" She smiled coyly at Peggy, just like the farmgirl she'd been pretending to be ever since she had arrived in New York.

"One would think you're on holiday, not barely staying out of prison," Peggy said leaning over to the bar counter grabbing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"Please," Dottie snorted. "You know it takes more than six walls to keep me from escaping."

"Right, and just exactly where would you go?" Putting down the glass in front of her Peggy gave her that obnoxious look she got when she knew she was right. "You know neither Leviathan nor the Soviet Union is looking for you."

"Maybe I'm not working for them any more," she said coolly. Peggy had no way of knowing whether or not she did. "Maybe I'm working for someone else." She tilted her head. "Or maybe they just want you to think that they're not coming for me…"

The dark liquid dove into her glass from the neck of the bottle, rushing into a whirlpool before settling at the bottom of her glass. She could smell the strong alcohol from where she sat and she scoffed mentally. Americans and their bourbon, how she missed the sharp bite of a good Soviet vodka.

Peggy poured a second glass for herself and sat down in the chair opposite Dottie with a calm, relaxed expression on her face. Dottie watched her, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The SSR agent wasn't drinking the liquor. Looking down at her glass, she tried to see if the liquor split, as it would if something had been added to it.

"Oh for goodness sake," Peggy huffed and took a swig from her glass. "Satisfied?" She asked after a while.

"Well, you're neither dead nor knocked out," Dottie lifted her glass in the air before taking a sip. The smokey liquid burned its way down her throat and she had to keep from coughing.

"If there is one thing that can be said about Howard," Peggy smiled at her, "it would be that he does have a good taste for whiskey and women."

Finishing her drink Dottie sat the glass down. That sleazy playboy who hadn't even remembered her name after their weekend together. Not that it had actually meant anything to her, all she wanted was the information she needed to execute Fennhoff's plan, still the man disgusted her. "This is my amused face."

"I must say," Peggy leaned back into her chair, "it reminds me very much of your surprised face. I could bet half the SSR that that's also your happy face."

Dottie bared her teeth in a sweet, yet deadly smile. "Oh no Pegs, you haven't seen my happy face yet."

"Oh, believe me I have," Peggy said closing her eyes.

Dottie frowned. The SSR agent was trying to get a rise out of her. There was only one thing that made her happy and that was hitting her targets. The sight of her bullet digging its way through their skull, red tufts of blood blossoming from the back of their heads as the bullet tore through the head leaving a trail of blood and brain spatter on the floor below them.

Crossing one leg over the other she mirrored Peggy and sunk back into the softness of her own chair, the bourbon and fireplace making her warm and relaxed, almost drowsy, her eyelids feeling suddenly heavy. What..? She sucked in air through her mouth to clear her head.

"I dare say, you're not that good of a liar Peggy," she called the agent's bluff. Peggy opened her eyes, her eyebrow rising in jest.

"Both you and I know you were -for once- telling the truth in that cell. You couldn't have been happier to see me walk in through that door.

~o~

"Well, that went better than expected," Jarvis said in surprise as he placed a sleeping Dottie on Peggy's bed. "I must say Miss Carter, you are very sneaky when you want to be."

She laughed softly. "This comes as a surprise to you?"

"How did you do it?"

"I coated her glass with the same chemical as my lipstick before dinner." She grinned. Dottie may well be the deadliest woman out there, but right now she was as dangerous as a lamb. "Here," she said handing Jarvis the cuffs. "Make sure you cuff her left wrist."

"There you go." Sticking his hands into the pockets of his vest he shifted his weight from his toes to his heels. "That should probably be enough to keep you safe."

"And most importantly, you and Anna, but don't worry, Mr Jarvis. Dottie's too much of a perfectionist to kill me in my sleep." Crawling into her bed she lay back on the soft pillows. "What would be the fun in that?"

"I don't see how it would be fun at all," Jarvis snorted in disbelief.

"And that, Mr Jarvis, is why Dottie is an assassin and you're not."

"Yes, I suppose so," he nodded before walking towards the door. "Good night, Miss Carter."

"Good night, Jarvis," Peggy sighed suddenly feeling dreadfully tired. It had been a long day, too long. Looking to the side she watched Dottie where she lay on her back, eyelids fluttering, her fingers twitching rustling the cuffs.

She frowned. How far must a person be pushed to still be sleeping cuffed to the bed. Someone like Dottie could be anything, the woman was as sly as a snake and as clever as a chameleon. If Dottie wanted to she could disappear and be free. What held her back? How brainwashed must you be to still be so loyal to a country who saw you as nothing more than another disposable soldier?

Rolling to her good side she pushed the palm of her hand between the pillow and her cheek. The freckles covering all of Dottie's skin seemed to have multiplied. She must have spent a lot of time in the sun, Peggy thought to herself, silently wondering if Dottie was neither blonde nor dark haired, but instead a fiery red head. Looking at the dark hair the framed Dottie's face Peggy tried to imagine it being a fiery red.

There were so many things they didn't know about Dottie, who was she? Before the Red Room Academy? Or had she always been at the Red Room? Peggy bit the inside of her lip, her one eye narrowing in curiosity. If Dottie had been trained, brainwashed to become this cold hearted, psychopath killer, then surely the possibility to do the opposite would be possible.

"Huh," she whispered. There was always that. Maybe, just maybe Dottie could be saved.

~o~

Dottie barely noticed the people scurrying back and forth behind her where she sat, protected from the sun by the large balcony above her. The past twenty four hours had not developed in a way she could have foreseen. She had gone from sitting in that quaint little cell just biding her time until the right moment arose, to waking up in the same bed as Peggy Carter in the middle of the night. She frowned recounting the past hours.

Once again Peggy had tricked her. It was becoming an alarmingly annoying problem. Still, even though the thought made her want to choke herself on Howard's tacky bed decorations, she did not entirely object to the situation she found herself in last night. It certainly beat the bed -if you could call it that- the FBI had so kindly let her sleep on.

The FBI, she scoffed, claimed to be the best, yet they hadn't even considered the horrendously unimaginative routine of her guards. Always the same; the tired bald guy, the angry fat guy, and there was that small one who always looked at her as if she might attack him at any given moment. Not that was entirely impossible. That could very well have happened, and he'd been right to fear her. Although for once she'd had bigger plans than something as petty as escaping prison. If that had been her plan then she had already worked out six different ways she could escape. Each and every scenario using the help of her ever so timely guards. But that was not what she had planned and as long as she had been kept inside the six walls of her confinement she had been exactly where she wanted to be. The SSR, the FBI, the stupid, arrogant Americans would never see it coming.

She tapped the arm rest of her chair absentmindedly. A cool breeze grabbed her hair momentarily, lifting it up in the air playfully before chasing onwards.

Then just as she was about to execute her plan Peggy had turned up to break her out. Dottie looked up from the green grass she'd been staring at, she could have taken Peggy out, right then and there, it would have been so easy. All she'd have to do was reach out for her and snap that pretty neck. Although it would have been an entirely unfair fight. The odds were far off even. There is no glory in such victory, if it could even be called that. No, Dottie wanted Peggy at her best, she wanted to beat her equal, not a whimpering weak girl. So, she had chosen to go along with Peggy's little scheme. Peggy had her...intrigued, and curious.

Leaning her head backwards she smiled. Whatever this lead to she had no doubt that she could use it and Peggy to her advantage. Maybe that way she could keep Peggy alive. The thought startled her into clarity and she sat up straight. Keep Peggy alive? Her directive had been to kill Peggy, there was no keeping Peggy alive. How could the thought even occur to her? She dug her fingers into the steel arm rests, her knuckles whitening, as she felt the red hot anger swirl to life within her. Peggy Carter made her lose focus! It was those red lips, the voluptuous curves and the faint smell of Gardenia, it clung to her sense, arousing the most primal thirst, a most ludicrous sensation, one she had buried many years ago. She'd had it beaten out of her as a kid, had it snapped in her arms to teach her a lesson; you find yourself caring about someone, you kill them. After killing enough people, she had learnt that she, Dottie Underwood, Ida Emke, whoever she was, didn't have a heart, and she'd never had one. Clenching her jaw she stood up.

Peggy Carter had to die.

TO BE CONTINUED...