"We've all got meanness in us...But we have some good in us too.
And the only thing worth living for is the good." –Billie Letts
Darcy looked up at the sudden burst of noise, audible even over the music blasting through her headphones, and put down the soldering gun she was holding.
"We need a doctor! JARVIS, where's the doctor?"
She was on her feet in an instant, hauling ass out in to the hall. There were three men, two holding up the one in the middle, making their way as fast as they could towards her and the medical lab at the end of the hall. For a second, Darcy stared stupidly at them, her eyes fastened on the man in the middle. His head hung between his shoulders, blood evident even on the black leather of his armour, but it was the silver metal of his one arm, slung across the shoulders of one of the others, that really caught her attention.
"Medical is being prepped for your arrival, Captain," came the smooth reply of JARVIS' voice. It snapped her out of her daze.
Turning on her heel, Darcy ran the short distance down the hall and shoved the medical lab door open, holding it for them. They shuffled through awkwardly, the dark haired man hanging limply between the two of them, as a handful of doctors in scrubs rushed up to them with a stretcher. The two hauled the injured man on to it and Darcy gasped to see that he was not unconscious, just incapable of holding himself up. His head lolled to the side, facing her, but it was clear that he didn't see her.
The doctors rushed him away, leaving the two men standing there, their hands suddenly empty. Both of them were filthy, and looked like they could use a little medical attention themselves, but no other doctors seemed to be forthcoming. The blond suddenly seemed to deflate, and he staggered, holding one hand out to brace himself against the wall.
"You okay, man?" the other asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just…" Instead of answering, he put his back to the wall and slid down until his ass hit the floor.
The other man walked up to him and copied the motion, sliding down until they were sitting side by side. He clapped his friend on the arm. "He's gonna be all right. Stark employs the best."
The blond nodded, but didn't say anything. Darcy knew that the reassurance was probably less than helpful, even if it was true. Unnoticed, she turned and slipped out, heading back for Jane's lab.
Her work, the motherboard for Jane's new spectrometer, lay abandoned on the table as she headed for her snack drawer. Darcy kept a variety of things in the lab—not just Pop Tarts—because it was incredibly difficult to get Jane to leave for a meal when she was on to something and there simply wasn't enough nutritional content in Pop Tarts to sustain anyone for long. She grabbed a box of the strawberry flavoured ones, along with several granola bars, and stuffed them into the pouch of her hoodie. Underneath one of the spare desks was a case of bottled water, and she snagged a couple of those as well before making her way back to medical.
They were sat exactly where she left them, only this time they looked up at her as she entered.
"Um, are you hungry?" she asked, holding up the box of Pop Tarts and the two bottles of water.
"Pop Tarts?" the second man grinned. He and his friend were in a neck n' neck race for who was the filthiest. Or the hottest. At least they were on equal footing, Darcy thought. "I haven't had those in years."
"They're pretty much the only thing I can shove into my bosses mouth when she's on a science bender." She reached into her pouch and pulled out the granola. "But there's also these if you crave a little, you know, actual sustenance."
The dark skinned man smiled, albeit tiredly, but blondie simply stared at her as if he didn't understand what was happening. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, his clothes ripped and stained with more blood and god knew what else. Clearly, they had just come from a fight.
It was an aspect of living in the Avengers Tower that Darcy had yet to experience.
"I'm Sam Wilson," handsome and chatty said, holding out his hand. "I'd get up to greet you properly, but I'm honestly not sure if I can."
She gave him a smile, but instead of reaching forward to shake his hand, she stuffed the box of Pop Tarts into his grip. "I'm Darcy Lewis."
"This is Steve," Sam added, nodding his head towards the other man.
At the sound of his name, handsome but silent blinked and seemed to come to himself. "My apologies," he said, his voice raspy. "Steve Rogers." He held out his hand.
Again, Darcy avoided the handshake, this time with a bottle of water. Luckily, neither of them seemed too alert and didn't notice. "There's more in the lab if you want," she said, passing Sam the other one. "Here, take the granolas, too. I've got a massive box stashed away in my drawer."
"Thanks," Sam said, taking them from her and tossing two into Steve's lap. "Eat, man. He's going to be in there for a while."
Steve did as he was told, fumbling with the wrapper.
"I'll be in the lab across the way," Darcy said, jerking her thumb in the direction of Jane's domain, "so, uh, just let me know if you need anything, okay?"
Sam gave her a small smile and a nod. "Thanks, Darcy. We appreciate it."
Steve looked up and gave her the world's most forced smile, practically baring his teeth at her. "Yes, thank you," he said quietly.
"No problem," Darcy replied with a small shrug. "I hope your friend is okay."
She slipped quietly out of the medical lab once more, but when she sat down at her table and picked up the soldering gun, she only managed to stare at the half-wired motherboard.
Logically, she had known that living in the Avengers Tower, the same tower that the Avengers often lived and worked in, meant that she'd see people come in injured, maybe even dead.
But knowing and seeing are two very different things.
Darcy should have known better than to wear sleeveless tops in the lab, or anywhere for that matter. It was practically asking for an accident, but even so, she was still surprised when the bare hand clapped down on her shoulder, startling her out of her zone.
The rush of emotions and scattered thought charged straight through her mind, making her wrench herself away from the touch instinctively. Nearly falling off of her stool in the effort, she turned and pulled the ear buds out of her ears to find Clint Barton dressed in civvies and holding his hands up in the universal gesture of peace.
"Hey there, Lewis. You're a little jumpy. You all right?"
Darcy tried to focus on the words coming out of his mouth instead of the lingering taste of his emotions in the back of her mind. He was content today, calm and full of good humour, which was a good thing for both of them. Negative emotions were harder to dispel.
"Yeah, I'm fine. You…you just startled me, is all," Darcy managed.
"You sure?" Barton asked, eyes scrutinizing her, trying to piece together the puzzle before him.
They weren't particularly close, her and Clint, but she knew better than to underestimate his intellect. The man's job was to notice the details and the nuances. If she had to put a label on their interactions, she'd call it an acquaintanceship with the possibility of friendship. She wasn't particularly close with any of the Avengers—or at least the ones she'd met—mostly because she and Jane had only been living in the lap of luxury for a few months and the Avengers were usually scattered unless there was an alien sea slug that needed killing.
"I'm sure," she said, sliding back into her seat. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
Barton snorted and pulled a stool over from one of the other desks so he could sit across from her, various pieces of a spectrometer spread out on the table between them. "You mean 'cause of S.H.E.I.L.D?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of all your dirty laundry being aired, actually."
"Yes, well, that's a bit inconvenient, but not the end of the world."
"I suppose not," Darcy agreed. Her skills in hacking were pretty limited, but she knew people from college who could create an entirely new country with a laptop and an internet connection so, really, she shouldn't be surprised that the spy sitting across from her was unconcerned. "Hey, DUM-E!" she called out. "Come here, buddy."
The familiar whir of the robot came from behind as DUM-E rolled over to her and promptly stuck his claw in her lap. She patted him gently, running her fingers over the dark metal. "I need you to hold something for me, okay?"
He made a little chirruping sound and straightened, opening his claw for her. Darcy placed the motherboard in his claw. "Hold it gently for me, bud, and follow me."
She led him over to the main body of the spectrometer, calling over her shoulder. "So what can I do you for, Barton? Or are you just here for Jane's charming personality?"
At the sound of her name, Jane's dishevelled head popped up, just barely visible over the edge of a computer screen. "What's that?" she asked.
"Noooothing," Darcy called back, shooting a grin at Clint, who shook his head at her, a small smile pulling at his lips. "When was the last time you ate, boss lady?"
"Uhh…earlier," Jane muttered, her attention already back on the screen.
"Barton, third drawer down. Throw something at her."
Turning her attention to DUM-E, Darcy dropped to the ground and scooted half under the spectrometer, instructing the robot on where to hold the motherboard so she could begin attaching the wires she'd soldered on before and then mount it. The best thing about her design? It stood on four legs, making it easier for her to crawl about underneath it. Forget whether the thing actually worked or not. She could worry about that later—when Jane was having a meltdown, most likely.
"So I heard you saw the Captain bring in the Winter Soldier."
"I knew you'd get to it eventu—wait, what?"
Darcy did the awkward crab out from under the spectrometer and stared at Barton. "Captain? As in Captain America?"
"You didn't know?" he asked incredulously.
"He said his name is Steve Rogers!"
He looked at her like she was patently stupid. "Did you sleep through high school history class, Lewis?"
Darcy tipped her head to one side. "I might have skipped most of it and cheated on the final?"
Barton barked out a sharp, short laugh. "How'd you pull that one off?"
"Wrote the answers on my thigh and wore a skirt," she said, smirking. "My teacher was a dude. What's he going to do? Tell me to lift my skirt? Nuh-uh."
That brought out a true and proper laugh from him, making him shake his head as he crouched down to her level.
"I think you're the only person in America who doesn't know who he is."
"Hey," she protested. "I know who Captain America is. Well, I know the important bits. You know, World War II, Hydra, all that fun stuff, but c'mon! Steve Rogers is a pretty common name, Barton."
"Not in this building it ain't."
Darcy sighed and lay back down, wiggling under the machine again. "I'm not having this discussion with you," she told him resolutely.
He laughed again and poked her knee. "I thought you'd want to know that his friend, Barnes, pulled through surgery."
That gave her pause, and she smiled to herself. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."
"Yeah, I'm also supposed to tell you that Captain America would like to see you at your earliest convenience."
"What?" Normally, Darcy liked to think of herself as fairly calm, relatively level headed, and definitely open minded, but the knowledge that she'd met Captain America and apparently missed the memo had her a little more flustered than usual. Instead of thinking, she reacted, sitting straight up and promptly banging her face off the underbelly of Jane's beast. "Ow. Shit. Fuck!"
DUM-E made a concerned chirruping sound while Barton laughed at her. Again. She felt a hand on her leg, over her jeans thank god, and then she was being hauled out from under the spectrometer, her dignity left somewhere behind.
"I can do that part myself, you know," she said sharply, one hand going up to her forehead where she'd walloped herself.
"Can you? I'm not so sure," Barton said, offering his hand to haul her the rest of the way up.
Darcy glanced at his hand for a second before steeling herself mentally. She threw up the walls in her mind, blocking out the inevitable surge of his mind into hers the moment their skin made contact. His hand clasped around hers, warm and firm, and he pulled her up easily. She pushed against the intrusion in her mind, forcing herself not to focus on the few thoughts and emotions that slipped through the cracks in her walls.
"Thanks," Darcy said, dropping his hand the moment she was on her feet.
"I don't have cooties, you know," he said, arching an eyebrow at her.
She flushed bright red. "I, uh. I know that," she stammered, turning on her heel to face DUM-E. "Hey bud. We're gonna have to put that down for a bit. I have to go talk to Captain America."
DUM-E released the motherboard as Darcy disconnected the few wires she'd managed to get done and brought it back to her desk. Barton was a detriment to her work ethic, but she saw that Jane had an empty silver packet on her desk, indicating that he had indeed given the boss lady something to eat so there was that, at least.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
He pointed up. "Medical."
She frowned, following him as he led the way out of the lab anyway. "But medical is down the hall?"
"That's the emergency. Surgeries and such. Recovery rooms are upstairs one level. Stark has a mini-hospital in this joint, though I don't know why that surprises me anymore."
"Oh."
The elevator took them up the one floor without prompting, affirming Darcy's belief that JARVIS listened in on everything, which only meant that she couldn't afford to slip up again like she had with Barton earlier. He'd surprised her; it was her own fault for getting lost in her work and the music pumping into her ears. Normal people slapped each other on the back, the nudged each other with their arms, and generally engaged in skin to skin contact all the time. Darcy knew this, but she'd become complacent in the belief that the only people who really came to the lab were her and Jane—and Jane certainly wasn't the touchy feely type. A small mercy.
The elevator doors opened to small lobby surrounded by glass walls and manned by a receptionist's desk. She looked up as they arrived, but upon seeing Barton, merely nodded and pressed a button that presumably unlocked the doors behind her. Together, they walked through and into exactly what Barton had said: a mini-hospital, only shinier than any she'd ever seen.
"Cap."
Darcy hadn't even noticed the man down the hall, standing with their back to them, until Barton's call made him turn around. It was the same Steve Rogers she'd met only four days prior, but he looked a world better. Gone were the shadows under his eyes, and the lanky look to his hair. The cuts on his face had healed, and the strain that had been in his eyes was all but non-existent. When he looked at her, he was actually able to focus on her.
"Miss Lewis," he said, striding forward, his hand outstretched. "I wanted to thank you, for before, and apologise. Sam says my manners left much to be desired."
Once again Darcy steeled herself for the touch. Captain America's grip was firm and warm, dwarfing her hand for maximum skin contact. His emotions buffered against her mental shields and she could taste his anxiety mixed up with relief and sorrow in the back of her mind. His face, however, revealed none of that.
"Oh, it's, uh, it's all right," Darcy stammered, releasing his hand quickly. "I, um, understand." She blinked a few times, trying to cast away the remnants of his touch. "How, uh, how is he?"
Steve turned towards a large window set in the wall. Darcy followed his gaze and found a rather ornate hospital room painted in soft pastels. Its sole occupant was the man they'd brought in; the one Barton had called the Winter Soldier.
He lay on the bed as if he were dead. Were it not for the machine next to him monitoring his heartbeat, Darcy might have feared that he'd kicked it while no one was looking. The sheets had been brought up to his chest and tucked under his arms, his hands laying flat against the bed with not a wrinkle to be seen. Her eyes came to a stuttering halt on the gleaming silver of his left arm; the engineer in her wanted to examine it. Was there an arm underneath it, or was it a true prosthetic? Did it work like Stark's Iron Man suits, or was it attached to external, manufactured neurotransmitters?
"He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but they tell me that he should," Steve said. His voice sounded awfully neutral for someone who had a well of emotions swirling around inside him. Darcy knew, even without having touched him, that this Winter Soldier man was important to him; it had been written all over his face when they brought him in, had been broadcasted in the panicked edge to his voice as he shouted for a doctor. Why, then, was he acting now as if the man inside the room were nothing more than an acquaintance?
"Um, excuse me, Agent Barton?"
They all turned around to see the receptionist standing there, a puzzled expression on her face. "Uh, there's a robot at my desk…I think…I think it wants your attention?" She spoke as if she couldn't quite believe those words were coming out of her mouth. As one, Darcy and Barton turned to where the front doors were located and sure enough, there was DUM-E, visible through the glass walls. Beside her, Clint chuckled.
"Oh, no, DUM-E," Darcy groaned.
"Isn't that the robot that Stark threatens to take apart all the time?" Steve asked, coming to stand beside them.
"Yep," Clint said, drawing out the word. He looked to the receptionist, muscular arms crossed over his chest. "It ain't me he wants. This here's his lady love."
Darcy rolled her eyes. "I better go to him before he breaks the glass or something." She turned to Steve. "I'm glad your friend is doing better, Captain."
"Thank you, Miss Lewis. And thank you again for the other night," he said, all sincerity. It struck her as a little odd that he would ask her to come up to the medical ward just so he could thank her for giving him some junk food and water, but she wasn't about to hazard a guess about superheroes and their quirks.
"It really wasn't a problem," she told him. Behind her came the chirruping sound that DUM-E used to communicate, quickly followed by a few hard raps on the glass. "I better go!"
She turned and booked it for the front doors, DUM-E's one eye on her the entire time. When she stepped out into the lobby he rolled right up to her, pressing his claw and most of his burnished steel body against her side.
"You're such a trouble maker," she told him fondly. "I can't leave you alone for ten minutes, can I?"
He chirruped at her again, his claw reaching out to gently take her hand. Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Smooth talk will get you nowhere, mister. C'mon. We've got work to finish."
"Foster! Foster, dammit, where are you?"
Darcy recognised the sound of Tony Stark's voice and slid out from underneath the spectrometer. She'd finally gotten the motherboard hardwired into it, but every time she tried to turn it on the damn thing overheated and she'd spent the past two hours trying to figure out where she'd fucked up.
"She's not here, surprisingly," Darcy called. "I'm pretty sure she's comatose in her apartment. At least, she better be if she knows what's good for her." Darcy paused. "Which she doesn't, so you might find her awake up there."
"Lewis?" Stark approached, staring down at her while she sat up, dusting herself off. Thankfully, he didn't offer a hand to help her to her feet, but that was mostly because he was Tony Stark and generally oblivious about things that don't revolve around him.. "What are you doing tinkering with the toys? I thought you were a coffee and paperwork kind of gopher."
"Geez, thanks Stark," she said, rolling her eyes as she got up. "And don't let Jane hear you calling her equipment toys, she may throw something at your head."
Stark snorted. "Foster? I can totally take her. She's what, 100lbs soaking wet? And you haven't answered my question. Since when do you work on the toys?"
"Since, I dunno, always," Darcy retorted, heading for her work bench and the schematics on the spectrometer. "Why do you think Jane hired me in the first place?"
"'Cause you've got a great rack?" Stark mused, following her.
"How many sexual harassment lawsuits have you had filed against you?"
"Are we talking this year, or my entire lifetime? Because I'm not so good with keeping track. You'd have to ask Pep."
Darcy rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. Stark's nonchalance didn't bother her as much as it did Jane, and she certainly didn't mind him being the asshole that he was as long as he was directing it somewhere other than her. He expressed himself with snark and sass, which was something she could relate to.
"Seriously, though. You work on that?" he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
Darcy spotted the schematics and plopped her ass down on a stool to go over them. "I make that, actually," she told him, half of her attention on the paper before her. "That's why Jane hired me. Culver wouldn't give her the funding to get real equipment, I told her I'd make her equipment if she signed off on my science credits." She looked up at him with a shrug. "It was either that or try to pass Organic Chemistry, which not even the actual science nerds do with any consistent success."
"Orgo?" Stark echoed, surprised. "Why the hell would they make a political science major take organic chem?"
Darcy wrinkled her nose. "It was my own fault. I waited too late to register for a science course and I had to have one in order to get my degree. Organic Chemistry was the only one that still had space. It was that or crazy Dr. Foster's internship. You see my dilemma."
Stark, looking suitably impressed, leaned over and snatched the paper out of her hands. "Oi! Just because you own the building doesn't mean you can do anything you want," she snapped at him, reaching for the paper.
"Technically it does," he said. "Hey, why do you have the power source routing through here?" He turned the page to her, pointing a finger at a few nearly illegible scribbles.
"I don't." Darcy frowned at it, taking the paper back from Stark. "This isn't what I…" She broke off with a sigh. "Jane."
"What did Foster do?" Stark asked as Darcy stood up and stomped her way over to the spectrometer.
"She tried to do something other than science," Darcy grumbled uncharitably, throwing herself to the floor and crawling under the machine. "DUM-E! I need light!"
"DUM-E? Seriously? This is where you've been?" Stark sounded incredulous. "Lewis, you stole my goddamn robot!"
"I didn't steal him," she argued as the robot in question appeared on the other side of the machine, closest to her head. His claw held a flashlight, which he conveniently angled for her underneath the spectrometer. "He just likes me better than you."
"I made him!"
"And look at how well that worked out for you."
"You and Foster are both a headache!" Stark groused. Darcy could hear the sound of his feet pacing just beyond her limited line of sight. "She goes and orders this insanely expensive motor, which I could have made for her by the way, and doesn't even ask me first! I mean, I know she has a budget and all, but this is still my money! And you! You steal my robot!"
"Actually, I ordered that insanely expensive motor," Darcy told him, yanking on the wires hanging above her head. "Mostly because we have a massive budget and I didn't want to spend two weeks making it."
"God dammit, Lewis! I ought to lock you up with 'crazy eyes' upstairs!" Stark shouted. "There's a protocol for a reason. Wait, how did you even place the order without my permission?"
Darcy wiggled a little bit until the top of her head poked out from under the spectrometer so she could see Stark. "Who is 'crazy eyes'?"
"That's besides the point." He glared at her. "Did JARVIS let you place this order?"
"Yep. Who is 'crazy eyes'?"
Stark looked genuinely upset, though Darcy didn't really know why. Technically, she hadn't broken any of the rules. They had a budget, the price of the motor was within the budget, and Jane—the trustee of said budget—had approved it. Tony Stark was apparently very attached to his money.
"JARVIS!" Stark shouted. "Explain yourself!"
"Dr. Foster approved of the order, sir, and her access has not been restricted in this manner. There was no need to inform you," JARVIS replied.
"But I could have made it," Stark insisted, more than a little bit of a whine in his voice.
"So cancel the order and make it yourself," Darcy snapped. "Geez, why is this such a big deal? It's not like you don't have oodles of money, Stark."
"This has nothing to do with the money, Lewis," he replied instantly. "I could have done a far superior job on that motor is all."
"Sir has been bored, as of late, Miss Lewis," JARVIS chimed in. "I believe he would welcome a task, even one with so little challenge."
Darcy looked to Stark who curled his lip in disdain but didn't deny the claim. "Seriously? You're chewing me out because you're bored?"
"This is not me chewing you out, Lewis, trust me." He sat down next to DUM-E before swivelling on his butt so that he could lie back on the floor, his head next to hers. "So what are we doing?"
Darcy wiggled back under the spectrometer. "I'm trying to undo the damage Jane has done."
"Wow. She did make a mess of this. I'm surprised it even turns on," he murmured. "DUM-E! Hand me that light!"
Darcy grimaced to herself as Stark's hands joined in with hers, unplugging wires and putting them back where they belonged. She made a valiant effort at not touching his bare skin, but with him in a sleeveless shirt and both of them working within a confined space, it was inevitable that they brushed against each other. It was fortunate that Stark was so absorbed with fixing Jane's fuck-up that his mind was focused on the task at hand, his emotions calm and unobtrusive, though he did mutter occasionally to himself.
"That ought to do it," Stark grunted some time later, pushing himself out from under the machine. "Flip the switch, Lewis."
Darcy scooted out and got to her knees, powering up the machine. She sighed happily when it began to hum with life, all of its lights blinking in the right places, and nothing overheating.
"Thanks, Stark."
"Yeah, don't get used to it," he said, wiping his hands on his pants. They looked like they were the expensive other half to a suit at one point, but they were now covered in fine layer of dust and dirt from the floor. "I don't descend from on high to mingle with the commoners very often."
"Duly noted, Scar," Darcy said dryly.
"I believe the name you're looking for is Mufasa," Stark corrected. "Or just King would suffice, really. I'm not picky."
Darcy snorted derisively and began picking up the tools she'd left discarded around the base of the spectrometer.
"Hey, don't get lippy with me lab monkey. I can still have you locked up with 'crazy eyes'." He grinned at her. "Actually, considering that you ordered that monstrosity of a motor instead of making it, when you obviously can, I think you should do a 48 hour psych hold. Just in case."
"Who the hell is crazy eyes, Stark!?"
"You don't know?" he asked, twiddling his fingers towards the ceiling. "Capsicle's geriatric friend. You know. 'Crazy eyes'."
Darcy frowned at him. "He's awake?"
Stark made a face, tipping his head from side to side. "If that's what you want to call it, sure."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged, turning fluidly on one heel, and headed for the door. "He hasn't said a word. Seems pretty DOA if you ask me," he said, tapping his temple. "Oh, and Lewis." He spun again, pointing a finger at her. "Don't order any more stupid motors, got it?"
Darcy waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Got it."
"You better!" he called over his shoulder, leaving the lab and Darcy behind.
There could only be one person Stark was referring to, though she didn't really understand why Stark would call him Steve's geriatric friend. Or why Barton had called him the Winter Soldier.
Darcy bit her lip, hesitating for a moment. There was plenty of work to be done, and she probably ought keep her nose out from where it didn't belong. It was most likely superhero business, something that was decidedly not her business. Then again, with the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and the Black Widow's spectacular info dump, most things were public knowledge these days.
It took her less than a minute to make a decision. A handful of quick steps took her to computer desk and before she could think about it too hard, she was looking up everything she could find on the Winter Soldier.
She stayed there, one hand on the mouse, for so long that her eyes began to burn and her back ached from being held in one position. By the time she was done, her stomach tingled with nerves at the thought of being so close to that man, even when he was mostly unconscious. The footage of Steve fighting him, their vicious hand-to-hand combat in the middle of the street, looped constantly in her mind. The list of his credited kills, the sheer length of that list, not to mention how far back it went chronologically, boggled her mind and left a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.
That man was sitting in a room on the floor above her.
Darcy looked up at the ceiling hesitantly.
What was that metal arm capable of? Were they safe, any of them? She hadn't spent a lot of time outside of his hospital room but unless that glass window was made of the same shit they put on space ships she wasn't sure they weren't all living on borrowed time.
Then again, Stark had called him 'crazy eyes' and indicated that he wasn't all there. Darcy snorted at the thought. Just what they needed in the building; an unstable assassin, because that was so much better than a rational one.
Darcy brought a hand up to rub at her face, massaging her tired, dry eyes. A glance at the clock told her it was past midnight and she really ought to get the hell out of there. Jane would no doubt be down soon enough—because that woman's sleep schedule was fucked right up—and if Darcy were still around she'd be suckered into helping with something or the other.
Pulling a drawer open, Darcy grabbed a violently bright post-it pad and scribbled a note:
Jane,
No more touchy-touchy of the machinery. I had to fix your 'improvement'. Next time you might blow the place sky high, and that would suck. You do SCIENCE! I do ENGINEERING! Kay? Kay.
Love,
D
She slapped it on the front of the spectrometer. It stuck out like a beautiful neon orange thumb on the silver of the machine and Darcy felt confident that Jane would see it immediately.
"JARVIS? Can you kill the lights?" she asked, grabbing her bag from her desk and slinging the strap over her shoulder.
"Of course, Miss Lewis."
"Thanks, J."
The lab darkened as soon as she stepped out, and Darcy closed the door behind her, making sure that it locked. When she reached the elevator she barely had to wait before it was opening for her.
"To your quarters, Miss Lewis?"
The word 'Yes' was halfway out of her mouth before Darcy paused, a thought occurring to her.
"Oh, that's a bad, bad idea," she muttered to herself.
She bit down on her lip again, a terrible habit she had when she was nervous or upset, or in this case: indecisive. She often walked around with one lip redder than the other because of it.
"JARVIS…Take me up to medical."
There was a pause, barely the span of a heartbeat, but then the doors slid shut soundlessly and JARVIS intoned, "As you wish, Miss Lewis."
She didn't have much time to reconsider her decision. One floor took less than thirty seconds with Stark elevators and before she'd really thought much about it, the doors were sliding open to the sleek lobby with the glass walls.
Unlike the other day, there was no receptionist at the desk, and when Darcy walked over to the door and pulled, it didn't budge. She was about to open her mouth and ask JARVIS if he would let her in when she remembered the receptionist pushing a button on her desk. It didn't take her long to find it.
The halls were quiet and dimly lit, and Darcy wondered if there was a nurse on duty that she would have to explain herself to. There had to be some sort of staff since there was at least one patient on the floor, but they were nowhere to be seen. Darcy counted her blessings as she retraced her earlier steps to the room that had housed the Winter Soldier the last time she was there.
At first, she thought he must have been moved. His room was dimly lit, just a small light above the nightstand giving off any light. The heart monitor had been removed, and the bed had definitely been used, but of the Soldier there was no sign. With a sigh, Darcy pressed one hand against the glass, leaning into it. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Part of her had definitely wanted to—
Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she pressed the side of her face to the glass, looking down.
There. She could see the top of a dark head, moving ever so slightly. Stark's words, and the way he'd tapped his temple, suddenly made perfect sense. The Winter Soldier that she'd read about would have definitely noticed her, probably the moment she hit the button at the receptionist's desk, but this man didn't seem to be aware of his surroundings at all.
She glanced at the door to her right.
"Curiosity killed the cat," she muttered before blowing out her breath in a sharp gust. "JARVIS? Am I allowed in that room?"
"I'm afraid not, Miss Lewis. Access is restricted to medical officials only."
She looked back at the top of that head, debating the words that danced on the tip of her tongue. It would change things for her, drastically. It could see her out on her ass, but that was really a worst-case scenario. Darcy had a hard time believing that the Avengers would be anti-mutant considering that they were pretty much one fat lady shy of being a circus act themselves. Still, the instinct to protect herself ran deep, and she'd never forgotten the repercussions of ignoring her mama's advice.
Closing her eyes, Darcy turned away from the window, determined to walk away, but her feet wouldn't move.
"Shit," she sighed. Turning back, she reached for the door handle, holding the cool metal in her hand. "JARVIS, I need you to let me in there."
"Miss, only medical off—"
"I can help him," she interrupted. "Or at least I think I can help him. Does that count as being a medical official?"
"I'm afraid it does not, Miss Lewis."
Darcy fought the instinct to stomp her foot like a child. "J, I can help him. Please." She looked up, turning her head this way and that until she found a camera high up near the ceiling. She looked directly at it. "I don't want to cause trouble J, I promise. I just want to help him, and I think I can."
For the longest time, JARVIS didn't reply, and Darcy felt incredibly stupid standing there, waiting for an invisible AI to respond to her. She was determined, however, to wait him out, and before she lost her nerve, she heard the distinctive click of a lock opening. She tried the handle, and it turned smoothly in her palm.
"Thank you, J," she breathed, letting herself into the room.
In retrospect, Darcy knew it was a stupid ass decision. The Winter Soldier was a deadly assassin, probably the most lethal person she'd ever been in the same room with, and he was decidedly unbalanced. She could have died in that instant, but fate, or perhaps it was luck, was on her side that night.
The man in the corner didn't even look up at her entrance. His hooded gaze was fixed on the floor in front of him, his arms locked around his knees, his body rocking to a rhythm found only in his mind. She felt a sharp stab of pity for this man that she'd read about. If the information she'd found was true—and she had no reason to doubt it—then he'd been tortured in the worst sort of way.
Slowly, very slowly, Darcy approached him, though her caution was ultimately unnecessary. He was trapped inside his head, that much quickly became obvious.
"Buck—" He flinched violently. It was the first sign that he was even remotely aware of anything around him. Darcy paused, unsure of how to continue.
There were rules to the kind of things that Darcy could do, she knew that. Her mama had drilled it into head as a child. A person's thoughts were their most private possession, and people like Darcy should never invade a mind. It was the most horrendous violation of privacy.
But the only way she could think of to help the man before her was to do just that. He couldn't give her permission, and even if he could, she wasn't sure it would really count.
"I—I…I'm Darcy," she whispered, slowly lowering herself to her butt in front of him. Her bag slipped off of her shoulder unnoticed, and she scooted a little bit closer to him. "Can you hear me? Bucky?"
He flinched again, but not until she had called him by his childhood nickname. Darcy took note of it, but considered it a positive sign. He was listening, though he didn't seem to be capable of responding.
"I…I don't know if you can hear me but…I'd like to help you, if I can," she told him, her voice soft. "I'm a bit…different. I have a…" She trailed off. Her mama had called it her 'gift' but Darcy had never seen it that way. "I guess you could call it a skill or a quirk, if you're being generous."
She gnawed on her bottom lip again, studying him. He didn't acknowledge a word she'd said, but his rocking had slowed a bit. His eyes were still focused on the same spot, even though it was now covered by her legs.
Sucking in a breath, her stomach swooping with nerves, she whispered, "If I touch your skin, I'll be able to hear your thoughts." She paused, watching his face for any reaction. "That's my quirk. I'm a touch telepath, kind of like a Vulcan. Though I don't think you know what that means." His face remained blank, his eyes fixated on that one spot.
Slowly, she reached with one hand, her fingers stretched out and shaking. Her body was a jumbled mess of nerves and fear. The one other time she'd done this, it hadn't been nearly as nerve wracking. Then again, that had been a fellow college student, not the intelligence world's most feared assassin. Darcy's fingers were only a few centimeters away from his skin when she forced herself to take a deep breath and push away her own emotions. It wouldn't do to push her thoughts and feelings on to him.
"Please don't kill me," she whispered.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she closed the gap between them, her fingers making contact with the warm skin of his human hand.
The darkness rushed up at her, sudden and swift. It surrounded her entire, enveloping her before she could even draw breath.
And then there was only the screaming.