"This is an agent of some kind."
"Gentlemen, this is Laura."
"I know all of your names."
―Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Laura Barton; Avengers: Age of Ultron
...An Agent of Some Kind
"She has freckles."
Rain lashed her skin as the skies opened, pounding the soft earth in a numbing litany. It's the kind of storm Darcy loved: plenty of thunder and lightning, just perfect for curling up with a good book while fat rain drops beat a tattoo on the tin roof over their upgraded lab in Kansas.
But they weren't in Kansas anymore.
They were in Iowa, in Hawkeye's front hall, clutching a trio of children close to hide their eyes from the day's violence. On the other side of the open doorway, Laura Barton lay dead at their feet, and all Darcy could think is that she had freckles.
People with freckles aren't meant to die before their time.
They aren't meant to be murderers, though, either. Darcy tried to adjust her train of thought to one of truly righteous anger rather than grieving, disillusioned friend.
Because Laura Barton lay dead by her own doing.
Laura Barton was Hydra.
Darcy will never forget the cold, calculating look in her eyes, the steady way the woman's hands held her eldest son as she tried to drown him in the bathtub. After receiving word of Clint's incarceration in The Raft, she'd methodically, maniacally drugged all three children, lined them up side by side on the bathmat in their PJs, and rolled up her sleeves.
Thank Thor, Heimdall was watching.
Within moments, Lady Sif received a message by blade (Darcy still didn't quite understand how the sword relayed messages), and gathered up Darcy and Jane milliseconds before the Bifrost opened to whisk them away where they were needed most.
They arrived with mere moments to spare.
Sif and Darcy tore into the house while Jane stayed on the porch to watch their backs until their Einherjar reinforcements arrived. Sif muscled Laura to the floor while Darcy checked the children. Laura kicked and scratched, clawing at Sif, at the walls like a wild animal, scrambling for purchase as she made a break for the front door and screamed over her shoulder, "Filthy Jews! You whores! You think I don't know what you really came here for? It's over! He's gone and my mission is complete! Heil Hydra!" She clenched her jaw and something cracked, foam spilling between dehiscent lips spewing rage. The woman spasmed and fell limp.
All that remained now were the soft features of a woman Darcy once thought of as friend. Average, brown hair and soft, amber eyes with pretty laugh lines at the corners.
And freckles.
"Laura was Hydra," Jane murmured. She trembled in shock, gathering the sleepy form of tiny Lila Barton close while an Aesir healer took the little girl's pulse and did whatever it is the healers do in an emergency. Darcy held the youngest, Nathaniel, while Sif leaned over the limp, wet form of Cooper alongside another healer brought by the Einherjar. The children's heads lolled, drugged so heavily their breathing had slowed until it nearly ceased altogether.
"Is he going to be okay?" Darcy whispered as a third healer shined a light from a mystery implement in each of the baby's eyes.
"I believe so," the healer assured, "but I'd like to get him back to the healing ward and have Lady Eir confirm the diagnosis and treatment. Will that be a problem, Lady Darcy?"
"No," the young woman shook her head. "I've babysat the Barton kids before. I have their father's permission to have them treated in an emergency. It won't be a problem, but the authorities will need to be contacted about—"
Sif spoke up, "I've contacted the Aesir Embassy here on Midgard. They say Thor is out of touch on a covert mission."
Jane's brow furrowed. "So who's in charge of Aesir policy on Midgard when Thor can't be reached in an emergency?"
"The embassy holds a Writ of Diplomatic Regency, signed by Thor. It names his lightning sister, Lady Darcy, Ambassador-Regent in the event of his absence on Midgard business."
All eyes turned to a wide-eyed Darcy Lewis: aged twenty-five and three quarters, adopted, sort-of sister of Thor, and newly-minted Ambassador-Regent of Asgard, from the Court of King Odin, Son of Bor.
What the hell, Thor...?
"Madame Ambassador-Regent," the senior healer bowed formally. "With your permission, we will return with the children to the healing ward on Asgard while you contact the remaining family."
Darcy blinked, still trying to process what the hell just happened. "Jane," she whispered. "They shouldn't be alone in a strange place. They've never been to…"
"I'll stay with the kids, Darce, all the way to Eir," Jane promised her best friend. "You'll… You'll notify…?"
"Clint." The name slipped from trembling lips, a barely formed whisper. "Yeah. I'll…" She swallowed and thumbed the screen on her phone—once, twice, three times, as if to practice the motion so she wouldn't forget how to dial when the moment came and the terrible news had to be relayed. "I think I know who to call to get him a message."
Sif pulled aside an older-looking man among the Einherjar. Orders were issued to guard the Barton children and the Lady Jane with their lives. Sif made it clear she intended to remain behind with the Ambassador-Regent to captain her personal guard of Einherjar. Twelve Einherjar would remain with them on Midgard. The rest would return to Asgard to protect the Barton children. Midgard had become an even stranger place than it once was to the Goddess of War and she'd obviously decided to take no chances where Thor's lightning sister was concerned.
Reluctant though she was to part with the children, Darcy passed Nathaniel over to the healers as the youngest of the three promised to care for the small child as if he were her own. She tucked him up close under her chin and wrapped a light blanket across his shoulders. Darcy watched in numb silence as the return party disappeared in a flash of light.
A gentle hand clasped her shoulder. "The sooner we get word to their father's contact, the sooner you can be reunited with the children and Lady Jane to watch over your friend's progeny until the man is freed from his wrongful imprisonment," Sif reminded her. "Call who you must, Lady Darcy, for Heimdall will waste no time once he knows where we are needed to share this sad news."
"The body," Darcy whispered. "We should move her inside until we can contact the authorities—after we get a hold of Clint."
"Aye," Sif agreed, signalling two of the Einherjar to assist her in moving the lifeless Hydra agent's corpse back inside the house. Curtains were drawn and doors, locked. The porch tidied, Darcy braced herself and sank onto the wide step at the top of the stairs.
She let it ring two times, then hung up. Waited, then called again. As signals go, it wasn't exactly covert, but she knew it would be more likely to get the recipient's attention than a cold call from a hidden number.
The phone clicked. There was no answering 'hello', but the soft sound of breathing was unmistakable on the other end, so she started speaking and hoped whoever it was didn't hang up before she got all the important details out.
"Laura Barton was Hydra," she blurted out first. Oh, fucking well done, Darcy.
"Excuse me…?" An incredulous voice replied.
Darcy relaxed a little. She knew that voice. "Captain, it's my duty, in my capacity as Asgard's Ambassador-Regent, to inform your team member, code name: Hawkeye, that his wife, an agent of Hydra, is now deceased."
"Darcy?" The captain sounded incredulous. "I— I don't understand. How could Laura be—"
"It's confirmed, not suspected. From the foaming at the mouth, I would guess a cyanide capsule, if the rumors about Hydra are true. The anti-semitism and the 'Heil Hydra' she shouted with her last breath were more than enough for me, but opinions may differ on that point. Unfortunately," Darcy paused, considering how best to deliver the worst news. Gently. She couldn't do it any other way, not with the memory of Nathaniel's warm body and the terrifying sight of his drugged, dilated pupils so fresh in her memory. She could still catch his sweet baby and powder scent on her clothes. "...she decided the letter she received recently regarding Clint's prison sentence heralded the end of her mission undercover as his wife. She—" Darcy faltered. "The children were a liab—"
She really couldn't say it. Those poor babies.
"Darce…?" The captain prodded gently. "What happened?"
A lump rose in her throat, choking off the words that needed saying. She tried twice more before the sounds coalesced into something coherent. "Her mission was complete. Heimdall caught her in the act of … tying up her loose ends," Darcy whispered. She heard the telltale sound of a pair of sharp inhalations from the other end of the call and hurried to reassure anyone who was listening, as well as the captain. "The kids are all going to be fine. We arrived in time. I sent them to Asgard with emergency healers and armed guards. And Jane. We have them now. They're safe. Tell Clint they're safe with me."
A/N: Today is my 17th wedding anniversary. You know I like to have something fun to post to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, but I forgot to post something for my birthday last week, so you get this MCU horror AU just in time for Halloween! Happy Halloween to all who celebrate!