Written for the 'Lipstick' prompt of Darcy Lewis week.
Warnings for: emotional abuse, depression (though I never actually call a spade a spade here), references to past anorexia and one brief vaguely suicidal thought.
"Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world."
- Marilyn Monroe
—
"And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn."
- 'Shake it Out' - Florence and the Machine.
—
Darcy is outgoing, bubbly and confident - at least most people think she is. If she was feeling particularly honest (ha, not going to happen any time soon) she would admit to having a voice in her head; tiny, high-pitched and vindictive that snarls, 'Not good enough. Never good enough. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough. Not brave enough.'
Maybe Darcy can't live up to the standards the voice sets. They're impossible, she reminds herself. 'Only for you', counters the voice. She can get through the day by acting as if everything is fine. If she tries very hard she can pretend that she's the way she wants to be. Sometimes it works and for weeks, even months at a stretch, things will be okay. Then things get bad.
Eat only lunch for a year. Skip out on the parties to study into the morning. Stay all night in the lab to clean and get all the paperwork done on time. Dress just a little more provocatively than she feels comfortable with. Act like she's energetic, engaged and happy, even when all she wants to do is stay in bed for days. Eat, sleep, socialise – normal human behaviour.
Her armour is made of layers that mesh together. (Is it armour or a disguise? Is there a difference?) The attitude, the clothes, the make-up, the constant joking - it's all part of a carefully constructed illusion. 'It will all come tumbling down,' the voice assures her, 'what will people think then?'
Living with Jane, Thor and the rest of the Avengers is wonderful. They are a mixing pot of crazy, both good and bad. Darcy likes spending hours in the lab with Jane, Tony and Bruce even though she doesn't understand what they're doing. She likes learning how to fight from Natasha and Steve and watching reality TV with Thor. She likes having conversations with JARVIS and snarking with Clint. She likes the movie nights, impromptu meetings in the communal living room, the post-mission binging sessions.
Most of all she likes Bruce.
Even though Darcy is the happiest she's ever been she can't shake the feeling that everything is going to come crashing down. The voice taunts her. 'They're useful. They can deal with their issues and go out and save the world. What can you do?' Sometimes it gets to her and she can't keep up the façade, so she retreats into her room for a day or two, only seeing Jane and Thor (who live on the same floor) when they come to check on her. "I've got a headache," she tells them, "how you manage to live with Tony and not have one is beyond me." When she looks tired and hasn't slept for days, she tells them that she hasn't been able to shake the nightmares about the Destroyer. There isn't a reason why she sometimes spends hours tossing and turning - she just can't sleep. 'Pathetic,' the voice tells her, 'even children can sleep properly.'
—
It's on one of those nights that she meets Bruce in the communal kitchen. His hair is greasy, his shirt rumpled and he looks about as bad as she feels. The lights are dim but Darcy still panics. Her face is bare and rubbed to rawness from where she'd run her hands over it in frustration and her pyjamas consist of old shorts and a t-shirt that once belonged to Thor. He spots her before she can retreat, "Hey. Can't sleep?"
Darcy shakes her head and summons a smile, "Nope. What's keeping you up, Doctor B?"
Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "SHIELD raided a HYDRA facility three days ago and found an artificial poison. It was a small quantity, so it was probably in the development stages, not something they've actually managed to weaponize. But SHIELD wants me to take it apart and see how it works."
Darcy rolls her eyes, keep him talking don't let him see that anything's wrong, "Don't they have their own scientists locked in a basement somewhere?"
"An extra pair of eyes never hurt – even if they belong to the scientist Tony keeps locked up in a tower," Bruce replies, laughing a little. "So?"
"Huh?"
"What brings you all the way up here at…3:47 AM?"
'Oh well done,' the voice hisses, 'He knows you're hiding something.'
"I-uh. Coffee. Jane took our stash to the lab last week for her three day science marathon."
The doctor's smile is exasperated, "Yes, coffee has been known to help you sleep."
"I.." What's my excuse? Oh yeah- "Destroyer nightmares. I'd rather not sleep if it's all the same."
'Lies, you're desperate to sleep. Second night in a row!' She can feel Bruce scrutinizing her. How much can he pick out in this light? The dark circles and unhealthy paleness she usually covers? The way her fingers are trembling and her legs feel like jelly because they need rest? The silence stretches and Darcy wonders what Bruce is thinking about saying. "I'm making tea. If you're set on staying up, do you want to come down to the lab?"
"Willing interaction, doc? What happened to the whole 'Hulk want to be alone' spiel last month?"
"You heard that?"
"All of Manhattan heard that."
Bruce runs a hand through his hair, "I am perfectly willing to interact as long as it isn't with soldiers and weapons aren't pointing at me. Do you plan on trying to kill me?"
The small grin that tugs at Darcy's lips is almost genuine, "Yes. But not in Stark tower. JARVIS will rat on me." They chuckle together and she feels a little lighter.
"Come on. You can use the coffee maker in the lab."
'He must think you're such a baby. Can't sleep because of nightmares! Want to come to the lab where the Hulk will protect you? Really!'
"Don't sweat it, Doctor B. I'll just grab a coffee and head back." She tries to be dismissive but something in her tone is off and the skin around Bruce's eyes creases. When he speaks his voice is soft, the same softness she's heard people use when they're trying to talk down the Hulk, "If you're going to stay up, you may as well have some company." She starts to say something but he goes on, "Trust me, Darcy. Staying up at night alone dwelling on bad memories isn't good for you."
So she goes with him. All the way down to the lab Darcy freaks out. He knows that there's something wrong. He wouldn't make this big a fuss if it was just a nightmare. What about the lights? They're insanely bright. He'll see.
When they get into the lab Bruce goes back to his work and Darcy makes her coffee. Cup in hand, she sits on a chair in a corner and tries to make herself small. "Here." Bruce drops his jacket over her, "In case you're cold." Darcy's thoughts shudder to a halt, momentarily stalled by the warmth Bruce's mouth and eyes manage to convey.
The jacket smells of whatever cologne he uses. Darcy doesn't sleep that night, but she does rest wrapped up and listening to Bruce as he works.
—
A little over a month and some late night meetings later he asks her to dinner. Darcy wants to say yes. Bruce is sweet and wonderful and smart and gorgeous - but she's not. The very idea of actually going on a date and maybe having a relationship makes her sick to her stomach. She wants it desperately, just as surely as she knows she would fuck it up.
"Sorry doc, I've been feeling a bit headachy and horrible for the past few weeks. Winter blues I suppose. Maybe when I'm feeling a little less like the living dead?"
It's so easy. Bruce nods, asks her if she's on any medication, if she's seen a doctor and if she would like some tea. Darcy wants to cry.
—
Darcy goes home on Boxing Day. Her mother is in full 'Real Housewives' mode, hair dyed a rich caramel and styled to perfection, dressed head to toe in brand new designer clothing and obscenely expensive jewellery. During the parties (one blends into another and she doesn't even realise that New Years is here until everyone starts cheering) Darcy can feel her mother's eyes on her. She doesn't need to look – if anyone ever asks she can describe the cold, perpetually disappointed expression that her mother reserves for her daughter from memory.
"Oh, Darcy? She lives in Manhattan. Yes, she's an assistant for some scientist. I'm sure she's just finding her feet. Though with that degree I'm not sure how she'll ever…"
Darcy ignores it. She smiles, laughs, pulls people onto the dance floor, convinces old classmates to do shots and parties like she hasn't got a care in the world.
She's home for eight days and manages seven hours sleep.
—
As the year inches forward Darcy feels herself slipping away. Everyday it's a little harder to remember why she has to get out of bed. The world gets along perfectly fine without her.
People start to notice. The mask is slipping and she can't put it back. Jane has a permanent crease between her eyebrows whenever Darcy is in the room and Thor is much less boisterous than before. She goes to the lab very rarely now. The worry on Bruce's face feels like a punch in the gut. 'You're making people miserable,' the voice hisses spitefully, 'it would be better if you weren't here.'
Darcy isn't far gone enough to listen to that little titbit of advice but it niggles at her while Tony studies her as if she's a problem to solve. The others get in on the act soon after. Darcy can feel Natasha's scrutiny and Clint's concern. Steve is a little lost. Pepper asks her if she's been to a doctor. Why does everyone think I need a doctor? I'm not ill. Bruce offers her tea, asks her to talk, please Darcy. "You have better things to do with your time," she snaps, "go do science or whatever."
Afterwards the guilt twists and slithers inside her like a snake. 'Why do they put up with you?' the voice asks. Retreating back to her room, Darcy rips up the contents of an entire bookshelf before she feels calm again.
—
Jane and Thor bring her food when she goes hours without moving outside her door. Darcy makes herself eat. She been through that shit before and doesn't want to do it again. So she eats, even if she can't see the point of it and everything tastes of cardboard.
—
In February, Darcy gives in. She doesn't leave her room. She can spend hours, sometimes days, just staring at her ceiling until the white paint starts to warp underneath her gaze.
They all try. Jane comes in and tries to coax her out with coffee, trips to the movies, shopping, anything. Thor tells her he's worried and that he knows this is not normal midgardian behaviour, so please dear Darcy won't you come and be with our comrades? Steve stands in the doorway and asks her to see a doctor. Pepper does the same, except she comes in and rearranges the covers and smoothes Darcy's hair back. "I've seen this before, Darcy," Pepper tells her, "you need help." 'Oh please,' the voice counters, 'you're beyond help. You don't deserve it.' Natasha alternates between threating to drag her to a doctor and murmuring Russian in a surprisingly comforting tone. Tony comes, takes one look at her and bolts. JARVIS informs her that he's been given orders from Mr Stark to prevent Darcy from accessing alcohol or any kind of drugs, medicinal or otherwise.
Bruce is the worst. With a doctor's detachment he tells her that whatever is going on, there's help. He lists off symptoms and illnesses and the reasons behind them. That part she can deal with. It's when he sits beside her and sets his hand next to hers, as if he's too afraid to touch her. 'As if he'd want to.'
"This isn't you," he whispers, "something's happened. Please, Darcy."
She can't answer. She doesn't want to know what would happen if she told him that no, this is her. Everything else was just a very convincing act.
—
Darcy is curled up under her covers when she hears the soft thump. Poking her head out she finds Clint perching on the end of her mattress. "How…" She sees the open vent, "Seriously?"
"You're playing hard to get," He reminds her, "You've been in here for five days. Honestly, I'd kinda forgotten what you looked like."
There's nothing much to say. She hopes he's not upset; Darcy cares about the team and doesn't want her screw-ups affecting them.
"You wanna talk?" He asks.
"About what?" Clint gives her a look that reminds her of someone else's mother. "I'm fine," she assures him, trying to insert enough energy and cheerfulness into her voice to be convincing, even sitting up in bed and brushing strands of lank hair out of her eyes.
"That was crap," he says, "seriously. You're the worst actress ever. Come on, Darce. Talk to me." When she says nothing Clint shifts a little uncomfortably and says, "Look, after Loki and losing Phil…I get it. Feeling like there's no point in getting up, that the world can move along just fine without you, I get it. You have to talk to someone, kiddo. It won't let up until you do."
Sweat breaks out along the back of Darcy's neck. It feels as if all the air has been squeezed out of her. He knows. Sliding down, she pulls her duvet up over her head and curls up into a ball. Through her makeshift fortress she feels Clint resting a hand on her arm. "It'll be okay. Not now. But it will be, y'know?"
Darcy's eyes sting.
—
Jane comes in, phone in hand. "It's your mother," she says, "apparently you haven't called in two weeks." Darcy thinks back, yes, that sounds about right. With the reluctance of someone walking to execution, Darcy takes the phone.
"Hey," she mumbles as Jane leaves, "how've you been?"
"Oh darling, it's been too long! You missed your father's birthday."
"I know – it's just…work. You know." She feels ill - more ill than that time in collage when she tried to make a roast and got food poisoning.
"Hmmmm." Darcy hates that noise, the little hum that wriggles out of her mother's pursed lips. It means a lecture's coming. "You're still working for that scientist, Doctor Foster?"
"Yes, mom."
"Well, really, how busy can you be? It's not as if you're able to actually help beyond paper pushing dear," her mother says, mildly exasperated.
"Well, there are three of them now-"
"Honestly Darcy it would be better if you found a different job. Something closer to home? To me? I'm sure daddy could find you something …"
Darcy sighs, "I'm doing good here mom." It would probably appease her mother if she mentions that one of her 'scientists' is Tony Stark. But the Avengers are hers. One part of her life where her mother doesn't feature. Darcy likes it that way. Her mother drones on and although she wants to tune out, Darcy hears every word.
"Everyone has been asking about you, dear and I just don't know what to say. Did you know that Michelle Pascucci's son just joined a law firm, isn't that wonderful? But when they ask about you darling, what am I supposed to say?"
The room is warm and she's wrapped up, but Darcy suddenly feels cold and clammy.
"I've been on a new diet these past three weeks, it's working wonders. If I came to visit, I think everyone would guess I was your sister. How are you doing, pet? When I saw you at New Year's you were on the pudgy side. I think you could be such a pretty girl dear, if only you-"
On and on and on. Darcy's head is spinning. "You will come and visit soon, won't you? It's rather rude to ignore me like this. I don't suppose you'd be bringing anyone? Two of your classmates got married this year. I know. I was at the weddings. Is there any word on that front? People are starting to talk dear. I heard the most awful rumour that you were – well. You could be rather attractive if you put a little effort in. We all have our little hang ups darling. Nothing some work couldn't fix. I stand by the offer to pay for a breast reduction. Of course there's nothing wrong with them, but I wonder if they don't give the wrong impression?"
When her mother finally, finally hangs up Darcy sprints to her bathroom and throws up. She's sobbing and shaking and she wishes she'd eaten more, because after a minute or so she's just dry heaving and can't stop. "Darcy?" Jane is there, stroking her hair and shoulders. "Shush, you'll be okay. Oh…"
"Beloved Jane! JARVIS has informed me that our friend Darcy is unwell." Thor's huge frame darkens the doorway. He takes a look at Darcy and vanishes. A moment later he's back, a quilt in hand. Jane takes it from him and places it around Darcy's shoulders. Trembling, Darcy manages to sit up.
"M'sorry."
"Don't be silly," admonishes Jane. 'Silly Darcy, getting so upset. Your mother is only trying to help.'
"Jane, perhaps you should fetch some water?" Nodding, Jane gets up and goes. Thor takes her place, "Friend Darcy, do you feel lightheaded?"
"No Thor, I'm fine."
"I have been told that on Midgard, the phrase 'I'm fine' traditionally indicates the opposite," replies Thor. Gently he hooks one hand under her legs and lifts her, still wrapped up, supporting her back with his other arm. "Sometimes fine actually means fine," Darcy protests. When Thor sets her down on her bed, Darcy can see that his normally sparkling eyes have dulled. "Even on Asgard, there is no shame in admitting temporary weakness," he informs her gravely. "Nor is there any shame in asking a comrade for help."
She's exhausted and doesn't know when she last slept. Her throat is raw, she can taste and smell vomit and cannot stop shaking. There's a tightening in her chest and then release. A strangled noise escapes her throat and Darcy weeps.
—
Nothing is better. 'Of course not,' the voice taunts, 'I've told you dear, you don't deserve that.' But Darcy is engaging again. Venturing out into the apartment and watching Bridezillas with Thor and having girl-talk with Jane. She decides that what happened was unacceptable, messy, a mistake and not to be repeated. Not ever.
So two weeks after the whole debacle started, pushing down the part of her that wants to hide away forever, Darcy washes her hair, picks out brightly coloured clothes, layers on foundation to hide the cracks and heads up to the lab with Jane. Tony looks up, hair wild and high on caffeine, "Hey, welcome back to the land of the living."
"Yeah well," Darcy shrugs, "I heard the weather is good this time of year."
Bruce is staring and Darcy gets the feeling that he sees entirely too much. "I've missed you," is all he says. Jane is quickly absorbed in her science and Tony pulls Darcy by the arm and is showing her what he's working on, explaining it in basic English so she can understand. Steve, no doubt informed by JARVIS, shows up after an hour and tells her in his adorably awkward way that they're all glad she's feeling better. She gets a hug. From Captain America.
For a while, the world seems brighter.
—
Tony has JARVIS call her up to his suite. "Sup, sugar-daddy?" She says by way of greeting. Because he's Tony, he doesn't even bat an eyelid, "If I was your sugar-daddy, I'd cut you off, you've been slacking." He gestures to the couch and they both sit. Tony leans forward, hands clasped between his knees and sighs. "Look Darce. I'm no good at this stuff. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. I suppose I should apologize for freaking out when you were…indisposed."
Darcy's brow creases, "Why? You didn't do anything wrong." The emphasis isn't lost on him. His eyes widen ever so slightly and Tony makes his 'Yep. My hypothesis 'that no-one-but-I genius-superhero-could-think-up' is correct' face. All he says is, "Screw Pepper. I'm going to need a drink for this. I'd offer you one but as I recall, I did cut you off."
Once he sits down again (closer this time) and is nursing a glass of whiskey, Tony gets into it. "So. There's this doctor, well, psychiatrist who I happen to know. Very well. You should talk to her. Pepper will arrange it."
'Huh, guess he thinks there's something wrong with you too. He even has a shrink lined up and waiting. Want to ask if he has a straightjacket too?'
"Tony, I don't need-"
"Believe me," he interrupts, "you do. Been there, done that etcetera." He's quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. "Hell, in for a penny. " Taking a sip of his drink, he continues, "In painfully brief summary, my dad sucked. Nothing I did was ever good enough. Ever. No matter what I did, how accomplished I became, it wasn't enough. And he made sure I knew it. Got to give the old man his dues, he managed to royally screw me up without ever laying a hand on me."
She shifts away. This is too familiar. Too close to home. 'Oh no. Don't you dare go thinking you can relate to him Darcy Lewis. Uh-uh. Don't you dare.'
"Have you been spying?"
"Is it spying if your AI tells you a friend reacted to her mother's phone call by vomiting for three minutes?"
"Yes."
"Then yeah. I know the signs Darcy. Hiding. Feeling like everything you do is wrong. A voice in your head repeating the same crap they came out with. Doing anything, anything to stop people finding out how worthless you think you are. The insomnia. And finally the glorious, glorious depression. As I said been there, done that." Tony's voice is detached and he's holding himself stiffly, knuckles white around his glass. "What they say. You mom, your head…it's lies. All of it."
She's shaking and maybe crying. What Tony says is true, Darcy knows. But part of her still rebels, screeching 'Pathetic. Useless. Worthless.'
"Ah, screw it. Here." He presses the glass into her hands and Darcy drinks, making a tiny choking noise as the whiskey burns down her throat. The warmth spreads out from her stomach. "This stuff is vile," she comments, glaring at the brown liquid.
"I'll make you a coffee."
Tony's halfway across the room when he adds, "And you'll see the doctor, right?"
Tears are drying on Darcy's cheeks. "Maybe. I don't know."
The voice says nothing.
—
The first day Darcy leaves the tower to go for a walk, Doctor Doom unleashes an army of robots. Darcy is torn about whether or not to take this as some sort of sign. The crowds are running one way and unfortunately not the way that leads to the tower. She's forcing her way past an incredibly obnoxious high rise when rubble starts falling around her. Looking up, Darcy barely has time to think before she's swept into the air. The wind cuts into her skin painfully until she's pressed against a large green chest and shielded by an arm. Hulk. The panic that had seized her by the lungs vanishes.
Darcy barely feels it as they move. Only when she hears the crack of ground splitting open does she know that they've landed. With greater care than anyone outside of their group would ever think possible, Hulk sets her down. They're at the harbour. "Darcy safe. No robots here."
"Yeah," she smiles weakly up at him, "thanks big guy. I haven't seen you in a while."
Hulk cocks his head to one side, "Darcy hurt?"
"Nope," she tells him, throwing her arms wide to demonstrate, "Fit as a fiddle."
He crosses his arms. "Darcy sad."
She stops up short. While her brain tries to process that pronouncement, Darcy's mouth runs ahead, "Of course not. I'm not in the middle of Doom's latest temper tantrum. Believe me, I'm actually rather thrilled."
"No," Hulk growls, "Darcy always sad." His large features soften and she can pick out something that looks a lot like Bruce underneath the green. He has the same look on his face, the deep, tender stare that sees through everything. Darcy shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Hulk speaks again, "Hulk try to see Darcy. But Banner not let him. Banner afraid of making Darcy sadder. He sat outside. Not know what to to do. Waiting."
"Bruce was in the apartment when I was…"
"Banner wait. So did Hulk. Darcy didn't come."
"Oh." The thought of Bruce sitting in their living room, tired (because Bruce has no concept of his body's needs), occasionally rubbing his forehead and compulsively cleaning his glasses the way she'd seen him do in the lab when he couldn't crack something makes Darcy hurt somewhere inside.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. God, had she managed to make everyone miserable? 'Screwing up again,' the voice reprimands. Darcy can't help but ask, "Don't you have a super villain to smash?"
In response, Hulk sits down and glares at her defiantly. "Hulk keep Darcy safe. Even from Darcy." Darcy looks around. Her back is to the city. Hulk has set himself in between her and the water. "You know I'd never…"
"Banner worried. Hulk worried too."
—
Bruce's pants held up. They head back together, Bruce's arm draped over her shoulder and Darcy goes to her first after mission pig-out in months. They didn't manage to find an actual restaurant this time, but the staff of a nearby McDonalds are only too happy to help. It's nice. She sits between Bruce and Natasha (who has commandeered all the McFlurries and, excepting Darcy, is decidedly not willing to share). Steve is talking about the fight while Tony re-enacts it for the staff, complete with sound effects. Clint and Thor make armies out of their Happy Meal toys and go to war. After half an hour, Jane and Pepper show up and take sides. Pepper's tactical savvy ensures that Thor and Jane are quickly forced to retreat. Director Fury appears briefly, congratulating the Avengers on another day saved. Catching sight to the toy army, he demands to know how SHIELD is supposed to retain any of its respectability with them around. All the while, Bruce's hand holds hers, even when he and Tony decide that if they were to build a robot army it would be much superior to Victor Von Doom's.
Darcy's make-up has run and she's covered in dust and dirt, but she smiles all the same.
—
Feeling decidedly pessimistic, Darcy goes to see Tony's psychiatrist. Dr Dorothy Trostle asks her some questions about her childhood, her relationship with her family, her recent breakdown (the doctor's words, not Darcy's). Then she lists off behaviours and emotions that Darcy recognises both in herself and in her mother.
"So, it's not – it's not me?"
Dr Trostle's smile is open and friendly, "No, Darcy. It's not. It'll take time, counselling, medication - at least to help you sleep. But with time, we can sort this out. Besides," her smile widens, "I hear you have a killer support system."
—
It's hard work, trying to overcome emotional abuse and the fallout. She has to try and step back from all the pain and see it for what it really was. Not my fault. But Darcy does it. She goes to her one-on-one sessions, attends group therapy, takes the meds and starts talking to her friends about what is going on in her head. Walking uphill all the way, Darcy starts to come back to herself.
—
It's August before she and Bruce go on that date. Clint and Natasha invade her room two hours before. "Everyone is emotionally invested in you and Bruce becoming official," Natasha informs her dryly.
"That's great," says Darcy, "Why does Clint have a black suit case?"
"He's going to do your makeup."
The only appropriate response to that is a flat, "What."
"EI School of Professional Makeup, 2005, deep-cover," Clint explains.
"And highly classified," adds Natasha.
Clint is a wizard. No two ways about it. When he's done Darcy looks in the mirror and watches as a grin splits her face. It's more dramatic than anything she'd ever have worn before. Behind her glasses, her eyes are rimmed with sharp, smooth liner that wings out. Her lips are a bright, dolly pink.
"You look awesome, if I do say so myself. Which I do," smirks Clint. Natasha pokes him with a mascara wand.
"You know, I kind of really love you guys," Darcy informs them. Instantly she has an armful of Clint while Natasha rolls her eyes, "We know."
—
"Okay, this? We should have done this sooner." Darcy's cheeks literally hurt from smiling. The whole thing is pretty standard, they've done the movie and are en route to dinner. Bruce's arm is wrapped around her waist and Darcy's hand is resting on the small of his back. The first ten minutes or so had been somewhat rocky, but there hadn't been a freak out or anything resembling a panic attack. Darcy takes it as a win.
Her phone goes off when they're pouring over menus. Well, Bruce is pouring over his menu; Darcy is staring at hers as if it's written in Chinese. No name flashes across the screen, but Darcy knows the number. She'd deleted this particular contact months ago. She considers letting it ring as she's done every other time for the past six months. Something stops her. This is the best she's felt about herself in a very long time. If it all goes wrong Bruce is here and there's no chance of JARVIS telling mama bear Tony on her. No time like the present.
"I have to take this," She tells him. Bruce raises one eyebrow in response. "I'll only be a minute or two. Can you order for me? What I know about Indian food I could write on the back of - well, nothing actually. That's what I know."
Bruce smirks, "Not true. You pointed out as we came in that it's spicy. It's a start."
Stepping outside, Darcy puts the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"Darcy, is that you?" Her mother sounds furious. "Do you know how many times-"
"Yes mom, that's what call history is for."
Really that is all her mother needs to launch into a full scale assault. Darcy takes deep breaths. She'd talked this over with her doctor and knows what's coming. The anger. The guilt trip. The pleading. All designed to make Darcy feel like crap. For a split second, Darcy is tempted to just let it. Habit of a lifetime and all.
No.
No way in hell.
"Mom," Darcy interrupts, "if I wanted to talk to you, I'd have called you. Take from that what you will."
"Darcy. I am you mother. How can you be so ungrateful? After all your father and I have done for you. We raised you to be better than this; to show some appreciation and respect, not to act like a selfish child throwing a tantrum. You owe me-"
"Absolutely nothing." Once the words are out of her mouth, Darcy can't quite believe she said them. The old childish fear 'don't make mom angry' surfaces briefly and Darcy forces it back to where it came from. "This has been a difficult year for me," she says, remembering the words from her therapy sessions, "and you're not what I need in my life right now. Honestly, I don't know if you ever will be." Before her mother can reply, Darcy hangs up the phone. She's walked to the end of the street. When she heads back Bruce is waiting for her by the door.
"Everything okay?"
Darcy looks at the phone in her hand. "That was my mom…and yeah."
Bruce looks her up and down, checking to see if she's hiding something. Darcy doesn't blame him. But she is okay. Adrenaline is thrumming through her veins. She feels lighter somehow, freer, as if something has loosened from around her neck.
"Did you say what you wanted to?"
No, Darcy reflects, I didn't. Part of her wants to scream and cry and lash out. To lay every single one of her mother's sins in front of her and make her see. She could have mentioned all the times her mother had called her 'strange' and 'freakish', the times when she'd gone days without speaking to her daughter until Darcy had tearfully apologized for anything and everything, all the dinners when every aspect of Darcy's life was dragged up for scrutiny, how her only response to her daughter being sent to an eating disorder clinic was to warn her not to regain too much weight, how nothing, nothing was ever good enough and how every time Darcy tried to do something and break the cycle she was suddenly the most evil person in the world.
It would be a waste of breath. Darcy knows that now. What she needs to do is draw a line under the past and move forward, because god knows no answer is ever going to come from her mother.
"I said what I needed to. Now it's done," Darcy slips her free hand through his. Her phone rings again. "Uh, again?" She's about to turn the phone off when Bruce plucks it out of her hand.
"Hello?" Darcy can't hear what her mother says. "I'm sorry; Darcy's busy at the moment." Bruce lets go of her hand and instead pulls her into the space between his side and his arm. No harsh noises come from the handset; her mother must have turned on the charm. "You've interrupted a night out," he explains calmly. Darcy knows the neutral tone he's using. In the tower they call it the "green feelings take warning" voice. "I would prefer it if Darcy and I weren't bothered every few seconds by a ringing phone. It's irritating and we both have better things to do with our time." He cuts the call.
Taking her phone back Darcy nudges him, "Is there a 'green incident' in our immediate future, doc? I'm sorry the big guy is being left out, but if you hulk out now there's no guarantee they'll give us our food."
"No," Bruce answers slowly, "that was…impulsive."
"I'd say 'mean'."
"…Natasha?"
Darcy grins, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Bruce tugs her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I could smash her, if you want."
A beat. "Did you just make a hulk joke? An actual hulk-" He's kissing her and laughing at the same time. Darcy can feel the vibrations in his chest and against her mouth. When she pulls away, face flushed and lips on fire, she's laughing too.
"Hooray. Personal development all round. Mama Tony will be so proud." She rubs her eyes (no, she didn't feel any dampness there, thank you very much) and black comes away on her hand. Bruce has pink smeared across his lips. Well, that's the makeup ruined. "Clint is going to use me as target practice."
Bruce rolls his eyes. He's far too mature to pout and say "Whatever" but he communicates the sentiment loud and clear. "No loss. You still look wonderful," He hesitates, "well, I think so." Raising his finger to his lips he adds, "This probably isn't my colour."
The only appropriate response is to kiss him again and let him guide her back until she's pressed against the wall, feeling giddy and lightheaded and wonderful. They only break apart when a flustered looking waiter tells them their food arrived three minutes ago.
—
Darcy's not completely better. The little voice still pipes up occasionally. There are still leaks to plug up and cracks to fill.
But she's getting there.