This prompt came from kiwigirl, who wanted to see what happened when Natasha got that text message in the last chapter.
Chapter 1: Natasha would like one night of sleep without you complete incompetents getting up to shenanigans.
Don't panic. He's with me.
Natasha stares at the text message for several long seconds, willing the words to make more sense. She blames being woken from sleep for her slow absorption of the message. It's unusual for Darcy to text her—that's not the kind of friendship they have—but even stranger for her to do so at 2 a.m.
The sudden realization of who 'he' is has Natasha vaulting out of her bed, grabbing a robe to cover her pyjamas and shoving her feet into boots. "Friday, I need you to scan the facility for the location of James Barnes."
"Certainly," the AI replies, and there's a pause while it completes Natasha's request. Meanwhile, she's tooling up, shoving ammo into the pockets of the robe and trying to get a holster strapped to her thigh. "He is in the quarters of Darcy Lewis."
Natasha's too busy cursing heavily in Russian to thank the AI. Instead, she shoots a message back to Darcy. I'll be right there.
Don't bother, he's asleep. He'll get all grumpy if you wake him up, and I'll be grumpy if I have to get out of bed too. Another message follows a moment later. He's snuggly.
Natasha stops cursing to fire another instruction at Friday. "I need visuals on Darcy's quarters." Darcy is all too willing to believe that Barnes would never hurt her, but she's never really seen the Winter Soldier in action. While Barnes isn't the Soldier at the moment, he's not really himself either. Natasha places less faith in him, especially given the night terrors she's observed through the mirror into his custody suite.
"Privacy protocols are in place," Friday replies. Natasha rolls her eyes and switches her Starkpad on from standby.
"Who's on duty outside Barnes' suite tonight?"
"That would be Nathan Sparrow."
"Thank you. Please wake Doctors Adebayo and Neubauer and have them meet me in my office in an hour." She'd feel bad about waking them up, but the retainer they get paid by Stark really should soften the blow.
It doesn't take much work to override the privacy protocols for Darcy's room and find Bucky in her bed. He's spooning her, barely allowing any space between their bodies, but his face is visible. It's more relaxed than Natasha has seen in months. The footage isn't great, not in the dim light, but Natasha swears there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Darcy herself has already gone back to sleep: her fingers are curled around the arm draped over her waist. She's definitely wearing a contented smile.
"Friday, please monitor the situation in Darcy's quarters. If Barnes appears to become an immediate danger to her, say 'Отбой, сержант' and advise me immediately."
"Certainly, ma'am."
"I know Tony programmed you to call me that because it annoys me, but from now on, Natasha is adequate. No salutations."
"Understood."
Natasha deletes the recording of the footage in Darcy's quarters. It's an intimate moment, no matter how innocent, and now she's established there's no danger there, no one else needs to see it.
Initial panic diverted, she takes a moment to switch from her pyjamas into her most comfortable tac gear. Seeing her coming round the corner dressed in black should alert Sparrow to the ass-kicking he's signed up for.
Turns out, he's dumber than she realized. He doesn't even blink as she strides down the corridor towards him. He's got his back to the mirror, slumped against the door, and she groans internally. He's half-asleep.
"Friday, pull me footage of all the agents who were assigned to guard duty." She suspects some serious re-training is in order. Yeah, it's grunt duty, but they should be pretending to put some effort in. Then she stops directly in front of Sparrow, shoulders square and arms folded. "Are you missing anything?" she asks.
He's intimidated—so not a total idiot—but shakes his head without even checking.
"How long is it since you looked through the mirror?" she prompts.
He shrugs. "About ten minutes. He's in there asleep."
She crooks her finger and guides him to the mirror. "Really? Are you sure?"
Sparrow points to the cot, to the hidden bulk underneath the blankets. "Look, he's right there."
Even from this angle Natasha can tell the lump isn't big enough to be Barnes. She tsks and strides back to the door, casually shoving it open and gesturing Sparrow through. He pauses on the threshold, obviously intimidated by the legend that is the Winter Soldier and whatever the on-site gossip is saying about Barnes' current mental state.
"Go inside," she orders, and he scoots into the room, with her hot on his heels. She makes a show of ripping the blankets away to unmask the mashed-up pillows, then slides the bathroom door open. There are ceiling tiles missing, a yawning void over the shower wide enough to fit Barnes' shoulders.
When she turns around, Sparrow looks like he's trying to disappear into the wall.
"Congratulations, the Hydra agent escaped because of your incompetence and murdered everyone in the facility. We're on the only survivors."
Sparrow's eyes bug out, all the blood drains from his face, and he sways against the wall. "What? He didn't move, I don't—"
"Or we would be if he was a threat to us. Luckily for all of us, Barnes was in containment as a precaution and hasn't harmed anything except your career prospects. But this is why when my instructions say, do not take your eyes off of him, you do exactly as I say."
Sparrow nods along, his eyes still wide and unblinking.
"You'll be required in the training rooms at 8 a.m. sharp. Dismissed," she says with a wave of her hand, hoping it manages to convey all the disdain she's feeling. "No, wait. I want a triple espresso bringing to my office. Then you can go back to your quarters and spend the night musing on your fuck up. I'll be in charge of your next training program."
He whimpers at her feral smile and scuttles away, while she waits until she can't hear his footsteps have moved out of earshot. The espresso is to fight the fatigue tugging at her. Sleep would be preferable, but she needs an emergency re-assessment of Barnes' status and she needs it before he wakes up. Getting the genie back into the bottle would be tough; yes, she can turn his programming against him, but not without losing the trust she's been building up. Instead, she's hoping they'll agree it's time he was allowed back into the real world.
She turns to leave, and a scrap of color in the midst of the white blankets and pillows catches her eye. She bends down and tugs it out of the pile, unfurling it between both hands to get a proper look. It's a cardigan, soft in feel and bright in hue—obviously Darcy's. Barnes has been sleeping with it, a treasure to keep him close to his soulmate when she isn't around. Whether Darcy knows he has it is unclear, but Natasha's mind's eyes flashes back to the image of him curled close to her.
It's something to show the doctors as Natasha explains to them why they're going to sign for Barnes' release.
If she doesn't make the cut for bridesmaid when the times comes, she's going to make sure Darcy never sleeps through the night again.