So this one is not related to my other chapters. It's completely inspired by the news that Sousa is going to be Chief in season 2! Oops, I hope no one is upset that I gave that away, although if you follow news of the show it's not exactly a secret. I've created my own back story for Sousa so of course this is another wildly AU chapter. Maybe we'll find out that his father was the greatest dad in existence, but he isn't here. Nor is he incredibly terrible either...

I'll apologize for the mistakes or any inconsistencies as I have no beta. I started this about an hour ago and I really wanted to publish it before I go to sleep. Also, I'm not a fan of Thompson and it shows.

He'd had hope. It been a fragile thing, a thin tendril of feeling he'd dared to nurture. It had given him a confidence he'd lacked before, something he'd once had but had gotten lost along with his status as a capable man. Caused of course by his injury. The rest of the men in the SSR looked on him with a sort of pity, a bare-bones respect for what he'd sacrificed for the country they all loved. His confidence had never been something to be taken for granted, earned by his own determination, a constant struggle against his own perceived inadequacies. He'd been a shy child, an obedient one, and had thus been the apple of his mother's eye. His father had always looked on him with a puzzled expression or a disappointed one, perhaps uncertain how he could be the father of a child that was so unlike him in every way. Daniel had never been incapable physically of joining sports, but he'd had no interest in it. His father heavy-handed form of child-bearing always sat ill with Daniel. Daniel's back bearing the brunt of his father's brand of discipline. And maybe it was the only way Daniel could be in any way rebellious, but he never did join a team in high school, instead preferring to focus his attention on his academic pursuits. And his father had always groused about having a son that was weak, though Daniel had never been anything of the sort. The few boys who'd tried to bully him in school, shoving him, or even attempting to use him as a punching bag, often found that they'd made a huge error in judgment. Daniel did not enjoy sports, but that did not mean that he didn't enjoy other forms of physical activity. He was never the tallest in class, or the most heavyset, but he could hold his own in a fight. He could only be grateful that he hadn't often been the focus of ridicule or physical intimidation. The only time he'd complained of it to his father, the implication had been that he'd deserved whatever was said or done, that the taunts held truth within every venomous word.

As he'd grown, as his mother's affectionate love mirrored his father's stern indifference, Daniel discovered a need to become more than his father's forgotten son. It was too late to turn back time and become the jock his father had hoped for, but there were other ways to gain his father's approval. And even if the feeling sat heavy in Daniel's stomach, creating a schism between his desire to be his own man, and his need to make his father proud, he followed the silent urge. His father had fought in the first world war, young and impressionable, Daniel's mother his young sweetheart waiting for him at home. If Daniel's mother talked of the war at all, it was to mention only that Daniel's father had come back a different man, a harder one. And she'd loved him all the same, choosing to marry the boy-man who'd stared at her with a desperation in his eyes. When Daniel's father spoke of war, it was only to say that it made men of boys, that it had shown him the reality of the world. But he spoke of it with a certain fondness, pride shining in his words when he told a young Daniel of the people he'd saved, the fate he'd helped mold for future generations. Daniel's father had stopped speaking of his war days the older Daniel had grown, perhaps feeling that Daniel no longer deserved the stories.

Daniel thought long and hard about his decision, realizing that although his father's approval had influenced the decision, he truly wanted to make a difference. He wanted to help in any way he could. And he'd always dreamed of becoming a police officer, of keeping the streets safe. So he joined the army, straight out of college. He had a degree that was inconsequential to his service, but he proved himself very early to be disciplined, willing to follow orders and able to keep up with the physical demands of training. He was the ideal soldier, but he'd never been prone to taking a leadership role. By the time the United States joined the war, Daniel was one of the first to be shipped overseas.

And his father and mother had been there to see him off. His mother had cried, and it had hurt to see her distress and deny her pleas to stay, please stay Danny. It had been equally satisfying to see his father's usual brooding countenance worn down with concern, a measure of pride shining in his eyes for his son. He did not say such a thing out loud, merely slapped Daniel's shoulder and nodded at him in agreement. It was the last time Daniel saw his father, his death swift and sure as he slept at night. His father fell asleep while Daniel was overseas, fighting Hitler's Nazis, and he never woke up. But at least Daniel had the look in his eyes, the knowledge that his father died with no lingering animosity between them.

When he read the news, written in his mother's shaky handwriting days after his father had been laid to rest, Daniel had wept. He'd cursed God and heaven and fate and anything that could be to blame for his heartache. He'd hoped to come home to his father's smiling face, a smile that had faded long ago, reserved only for his mother. But the trenches of Europe were not a place to mourn, not for his father or for the thousands of men that died beside him. And when the accident happened, when he'd risked life and limb to save so many others, he'd pushed the grief far too deep to access.

The offer to join the SSR had come when he was lying in the hospital, the news of the liberation of the concentration camps filtering in over the static of the radio. And he'd had hope then, a burning desire to do more good, to help no matter what. He hadn't really let go of that hope, not in the days that followed when it was made clear that he was offered the job due to his past service, and with the understanding that his position was barely more than a glorified desk job. It was Jack Thompson that cracked the foundation of that hope, with his ill-concealed pity and low barbs aimed at his deficiencies.

Confidence had always been something he hadn't had in any abundance. A strong sense of right and wrong, yes, a drive to do better, yes, Daniel had those. But there had always been the niggling doubt in the recesses of his mind, borne by the disappointment in his father's eyes, and the taunts ringing in his ears from children and men he would never see again. His confidence was severely shaken by Jack Thompson and the men who were more than eager to gain his approval by taunting Daniel. He hated the weakness he viewed in himself, the amiability that forced him to laugh the insults off when they angered him.

And everything was made worse when Peggy Carter joined the SSR. He'd held her on a pedestal from the moment she'd entered the door. The following weeks only proving to him how worthy she was of retaining that space. Then she'd betrayed them all, and he'd had a hard time reconciling the woman he'd painted in his mind with the bitter woman who'd told them all off with a righteous indignation.

When the business with Howard Stark was said and done, when Peggy had been vindicated and the team properly chastened, Daniel could not resist the hope that tugged at him. Hope that hadn't been completely shattered by Jack Thompson, or the shadow of his father's ghost, or the dying groans of the men that had died by his side. Hope that Daniel could have everything he'd ever dreamed of. And Peggy Carter featured heavily in his dreams. It was the hope that boosted his confidence, that allowed him to take charge of the chaos that had become of the SSR after Dooley's death. All with the intention of getting everything settled, well and truly so that their lives could return to a semblance of normalcy. He'd earned commendations for his role, gained notice with his sure words on the events of the past weeks. And Daniel raved about Peggy's actions, tried to make certain she received the recognition she deserved, despite her rogue investigation. But it was all for nothing. No one was ready for a woman as their chief. And somehow, despite the eager protests of both Thompson and himself, Daniel found himself as Chief.

But first, he'd accomplished what he'd been steeling his nerves for from the moment Peggy had stepped in the same building. He'd asked her out for a drink. Daniel had seen it as a first step towards that dream. And though she hadn't immediately agreed, she'd kept the hope alive.

It was dashed with the news that he was to be Chief. No one would care if he had a relationship with Peggy. He'd get the expected ribbing, the slaps on the back and catcalling. But as for Peggy...her reputation would never recover. She would always be seen as the woman who'd slept with the boss to further her career, no matter how untrue that would be. No matter her capabilities as an Agent, no matter how clever and strong she was. And he could never do that to her.

"Daniel!" Peggy's voice broke his miserable contemplation, turning towards her smiling face. She quirked an eyebrow at his forced smile. "Is this a bad time?" she asked him.

"No! Never!" Daniel spoke with hurried assurance, cringing at his own eagerness to placate her.

Peggy smirked at the heat that spread across his face, her smile gentling at his clear embarrassment. "I just wanted to know if you still wanted to go for that drink? I have a free night, and with the move to Los Angeles next month, I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the beer that I've previously despised."

Daniel opened his mouth to agree, and yet his previous thoughts held him back. "Uh...another night?" he finally offered with a weak smile.

Peggy tilted her head, considering him with sharp eyes. "Do I sense a hint of reluctance?" she wondered.

"No...it's just...work." he offered lamely. Though Peggy knew as well as he did that they weren't currently working on anything that would warrant him turning her down. "Chief stuff," he assured her, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Peggy's eyebrows raised in sudden realization. "Daniel, if I were to ask you the same question next week would the answer remain the same?"

"Umm ..." He had no idea how to explain that he would love to take her up on her offer, that he wanted nothing more than to spend any free hour he had with her, but couldn't because it would raise too many eyebrows. She'd never been eager to be seen with any of the SSR Agents outside of work before. How would it look if she started now, and with him of all people? He knew she'd somehow come to terms with Steve Rogers' death. He knew she was only trying to be friendly, that she couldn't possibly feel the same way about him. But others wouldn't see it that way.

"Daniel," Peggy sighed, sadness causing the smile to slip from her lips. "I appreciate the thought, I really do. You're lovely, and you deserve to be Chief, you really do...but I'll damn well go out for a drink with whoever I feel like it. Especially if it's the one person whose shown me any ounce of kindness since I've been here that I didn't earn."

Daniel sighed in regret, a heaviness weighing on his shoulders that could almost be called grief. "When I asked you out for a drink, I never would have imagined that they would have chosen me to be Chief. I really didn't, but with this new position comes responsibilities that I can't ignore. I have a responsibility to all my Agents, including you. Maybe a reputation isn't such a worrisome thing to you," he hurried on as she winced at the implication that she didn't care about respectability, "because it shouldn't be! I know you're absolutely above reproach, and I'm sure everyone else knows it as well, but there would still be talk. There would be inferences that could never sit well with me."

Peggy had one hell of a poker face and he hated to see her shut him out. She nodded once. "Yes, sir."

And the two words stung worse than they should, Daniel wincing at the ice that veiled her words. "Peggy, I..." He wanted to tell her that he hated himself right now, that her indifference created an ache in him that would fester. But the words wouldn't come.

Her expression softened once again at the desperate thoughts he couldn't voice. "Daniel, it's okay. Maybe we can still get that drink with everyone else. Who can say anything then?"

Daniel nodded tersely, hope falling apart with her reassuring smile. "Yes, that sounds...nice."

"I'm glad." Peggy spoke with sincerity. "Thank you for looking out for me. I know it's your job, as you said, but you're a good friend." Daniel hoped she didn't see his flinch at the word 'friend', not that he was upset with it. That Peggy could consider him a friend was a blessing, but it was so much less than he wanted. Yes, hope was a tenuous thing, and it was crumbling before his eyes.

She turned away, and Daniel shoulder's dropped in resignation. She took a few steps away, Daniel staring at the carpeted floor with bitter acceptance. It was her hand on his shoulder that made him look up with surprise into her remorseful eyes. Peggy shocked him with a kiss on the cheek, her lips soft and warm against his skin. He barely had a moment to savor it before she was stepping away. "Thank you Daniel. You're a good man." She hesitated, searching his expression. "I would have liked to know you better." Her eyes held her meaning with warm affection and tempered regret.

He swallowed, his throat tight. "I would have liked that too."

Peggy nodded once. She squeezed his arm. "You're going to make a brilliant Chief," her expression was fierce. "I never doubted you could do this job for one second." Finally she turned on her heel again and walked away. Peggy looked back at the end of the hallway, offering one last smile. Daniel watched his hope walk out the door.

He allowed himself one moment of weakness, his shoulders shaking with anger and grief before he pulled himself together. Peggy was right. He would be the best damn Chief the SSR had ever seen.

Sorry guys. I know it's kind of terrible but I thought of this when I heard that Sousa was going to be Chief in season 2. After I got over my genuine excitement at the idea, I realized that this probably meant that whatever chance he had with Peggy was pretty much over. Women weren't exactly well-respected in the workforce during the 40s and I'm sure that if Sousa and Peggy were actually to date that snide remarks would be said all around. I hope I'm wrong, but the thought wouldn't leave me alone. I promise the next one will be lighter! And I promise to try and make Sousa a little less vulnerable and angsty.

Please review and let me know what you thought!