They'd admitted her into the prison under the name Dorothy Underwood, without caring to ask whether or not it was true. Her records stated Dorothy Underwood because that was the name Peggy Carter had given them when she was handed over. She wondered if Peggy hadn't thought to ask, or if she just didn't care either.
Picking at the prison gown she wore, Dottie hummed to herself, noticing as the door was opened, and a tray of undercooked food was slid inside. She missed the meals at The Griffith sometimes, but even this was better than what she'd grown up on. And it didn't cost her a penny, either. She was as accepting of the situation as she was ready to spring out of it.
But that time would come later, she was sure. She was nothing more than biding her time, Dorothy Underwood would make her escape.
Dottie didn't know her name. At least, not one that ever mattered, not one given to her by some caring parent. As a child, that had bothered her… at least, until she couldn't allow it to do so any longer. And then, she'd stopped thinking about it. In fact, until this very moment, she hadn't considered her name for likely twelve years.
She'd have to change it in order to escape. Dorothy Underwood couldn't run free in the United States, in Russia, anywhere really.
But, in her head, she was beginning to refer to herself as Dottie. Not because it fit her, or because Dorothy was some lovely name she wanted to be associated with.
No.
Dottie slowly got up off the hard bed, grabbing the tray of food, meticulously pulling apart all of it, smelling it for poison, searching it for any sort of note. Nothing. She poked at it for a moment, not hungry, but willing to eat in order to keep energy.
Peggy called her Dottie. And even in anger, it sounded just right off of those pretty red lips. She didn't want to go by anything else, not if it meant she'd never hear this name in that refined accent ever again. And she would hear it again. There was no question at all there. Peggy would end up in her life again, whether or not it was by choice.
And when she did, she wanted to hear it.
Because if Peggy Carter decided she was Dorothy Underwood, then Dorothy Underwood she would be.