Title: I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me)
Category: Thor/The Avengers
Genre: Humor, Drama, Romance
Ship: Darcy/Steve, Darcy & Coulson, Darcy & Jane
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
For: warsawmouse | Going on Facebook: Darcy Lewis Fic/Art Exchange
Chapter Word Count: 3,100
Overall Word Count: 58,680
Summary: The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend.

I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me)
-Novel-

Prologue.

The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend.

Instead of gold, it was paved with missiles, bullets, flesh wounds, botched romances, an endless fight against her own Peter Pan syndrome, standing up to her mother, and paperwork. A shit-ton of paperwork, in fact.

And it wasn't paved so much as a collection of different settings, from the bleak grey walls of SHIELD to the shiny, shiny surroundings of Jane's lab, the gun-powder ridden shooting range, to a barn and back-country dirt road that she'd rather never, ever walk, drive, or even so much as helicopter over again.

She was a grunt. Never mind the expensive shoes and the company card that could, and did, buy her new 'adult' wardrobe. At the core of it, Darcy was just one more worker ant. In fact, if she really looked back, to as far as oh, birth, grunt was basically all she'd ever been. A snarky grunt, but she was pretty sure her psychologist would just call that a defense mechanism.

Maturity was a funny thing.

In Darcy's mind, she always associated it with a fun-sucking, life-altering, fall down a rabbit hole to hell. Instead of Alice and her acid-trip of weirdness, it was more like stepping out into the corporate world as a suit-wearing drone, with the only drive in life being small talk at the water cooler and a tortoise race toward a passable pension. These were things that made Darcy's skin crawl; they made her stomach roll. So it was no surprise that 'maturity' had never been on her to-do list.

When Darcy was a kid, her mother often told her to stop asking so strange, so be more polite, always wondering why she was so immature, why she couldn't just act her age. But as Darcy remembered it, she was just being herself, just enjoying what childhood and life had to offer. So she climbed trees in the pretty, flower-print dresses her mother made her wear. So she made mud pies and served them to her little brother like they were chocolate cake. So she constantly caught bugs and used them to play pranks on her teachers. She was a knobby-kneed, dirt-stained, foul-mouthed, free little kid.

When high school came around, it was like a race to grow up; everybody wanted to be treated like adults. And she played into that a bit, didn't every teenager? When she wasn't getting into trouble for standing up against adversity —also known as talking but to her teachers— she had an after-school job and she paid for her own sputtering, rust-ridden car. She had a fake ID and she occasionally convinced the liquor store clerks that 'hey, with these puppies?' she'd motion to her chest, 'you really think I'm a high schooler?' Whether it was the fact that hello boobs or she was only after a six pack of light beer, what's the harm?, she generally got away with it.

But then came college and eighteen and real, true blue adulthood, with hunting down scholarships and sending out applications, hoping and pleading that someone saw she was worthy enough to get into their school. And suddenly, she was that little kid again, who just wanted to climb trees, trap bugs in her teacher's desk drawers, and make out with cute boys in the back seat of her car. She didn't want responsibility and bills and some boring cubicle job. She wanted freedom.

It manifested, she guessed, in complete confusion. What the hell did she even want to do with her life? Culver University apparently thought she was a worthy applicant and welcomed her over. Darcy originally started out wanting to major in art; what field of art she really wasn't sure. What she knew was that she liked museums and her mind was like a Picasso, so it just seemed to jive. So she went with interior design because she thought, hey, buying furniture on someone else's dime and setting up a house! Not bad! Only Darcy wasn't good at designing other people's houses; she was good at knowing herself and her preferences. And the people that would probably be hiring her were going to want something a little more high-end than her love of tweed and wicker. So she switched majors, leaving art entirely when she realized she just didn't fit there outside of a hobby, and instead found Languages.

In her head, all she kept thinking about was how kickass it was going to be that she'd speak a bunch of different languages, or at the very least understand them, and that she could turn that into an awesome jet-setting lifestyle where she was constantly on the move, moving from foreign city to foreign city, maybe even working for somebody as a translator. She was picking up languages easier than she expected; in fact, she was kind of a linguistics super-star. But overall, she wasn't sure she liked what kind of field she'd be working in. Her professor was getting excited about her skills and told her that she might find an internship with the UN, interpreting for them, to be a great career opportunity. And then she watched the movie The Interpreter, or, okay, she watched the beginning of it, before she got bored and couldn't stop focusing on how Nicole Kidman had permanently frowny eyebrows. And finally, she decided that maybe she should take her language skills and just cut and run while they were still awesome. Before she was just a person in a room wearing headphones, translating boring crap for old, half-asleep politicians.

This somehow led her to political science… Maybe it was the idea that she didn't want to just facilitate change, she wanted to be change, but she finally thought she knew where she wanted to be. So she put aside her failed attempts at her two previous majors, and tried not to cringe every time her mother brought up how much she'd cost her parents by not thinking things through in the first place. Darcy bit her tongue whenever she wanted to remind them that they had plenty of money and she'd hardly made a dent. Times were tough and it probably wasn't a good idea to be just throwing around money any which way. But when her mom used words like 'flighty' and 'immature' Darcy got her back up.

She liked herself just fine, but her mom wasn't wrong. She'd always flitted from thing to thing, never really settling on one exact idea of who she was or what she wanted. All she really knew was that her future felt like it was looming over her. Other people she met were so excited to start their lives; to be done school and to take what they'd learned and apply it to a job. But Darcy looked at it like it was the end of her world, not the beginning. She wanted fun and freedom and restrictions were not part of her package.

When she found the internship with Jane, she looked at it as a 'get the hell away from school and have one last awesome adventure' kind of situation. She'd never been to New Mexico and, sure, it was still in the States, but it wasn't Culver and it wasn't home, where her mother would have that disapproving face and her father would hide his head in his newspaper, leaving the child-rearing in her hands. No matter how painfully obvious it was that Lorna Lewis had long ago given up on her middle child ever growing into a respectable person. And maybe Darcy fed that image a bit, wanting to be rebellious, to piss off the mother she could never please as much as possible. Probably another tick in the immature column, but whatevs, might as well dedicate herself to it at this point.

As it turned out, Puente Antiguo was less 'adventure' and more 'holy shit, does the desert ever end?' For the most part, since she wasn't enough scientist for them, she was put on collating and Pop-tart duties. Darcy could do this. Never mind that she happened to be a kickass cook who could put together some really awesome meals from just about anything; she'd lived on a college budget and a hot plate, she learned how to adapt. All Jane Foster wanted was a hot Pop-tart in hand when she brought her head up out of the haze that was science. So Darcy let herself slump into the box they put her in; snarky, underachieving, poli-sci student who only cared about her six credits and iPod. Which, she had to admit, was a pretty apt description most of the time. And if neither Erik nor Jane picked up on the fact that she was fluent in French, passable in German, and loved to curse in Russian, then bonus for her.

Don't get her wrong, because she actually really liked Jane. She was just this side of kooky scientist, what with her insanely genius level intellect coupled with her general lack of personal upkeep. Eating, bathing, and sleeping eluded the scientist who was actually a pretty awesome friend when she wasn't completely lost in the super-maze that was her mind. And Erik, who was generally grumpy with Darcy, reminded her of her grandpa, who was impatient and rarely had anything nice to say to anybody, but he loved his kids and grandchildren and he always snuck her caramels and told her she was his favorite. She chose to totally ignore that he did that with all the grand-kids and just wanted them to feel special.

So while Darcy thought New Mexico was generally a crap-place for a last hurrah before adulthood really took over and she had to take her degree and make a modern working woman of herself, it wasn't too bad. Margarita night with two drunken genius scientists would remain in her fondest memories. And then, just as she was resigning herself to the dusty recesses of small-town New Mexico, a friggin' God of Thunder came out of a rainbow bridge and turned everything upside down.

This, she would later decide, would be the big turning point. It wouldn't look like it at first. When it was happening, all she could think about was Area 51 and how Agent iPod Thief would probably make her sign so many gag orders she'd have early onset arthritis. But it was really just the first step. Learning about Thor, about SHIELD, had started her on her journey of self-discovery, or something super-serious like that. After Thor defeated the giant robot-flame-thrower from hell, he took off to do damage control in Asgard, and then bye, bye rainbow bridge and hello depressed, man-blues Jane.

In the next few weeks, Erik would take off to do super, top-secret business for SHIELD, Jane would dedicate every waking (and some non-waking; that were a little scarier) moment to rebuilding the bridge. Darcy would finish her internship and return to Culver to finish up her degree. The ink was still wet when Coulson showed up with that half-smile of 'knowing'.

"Miss Lewis," he greeted her with a faint nod.

She looked him up and down and then said, "One second." She left him at the door and returned wearing sunglasses. "All right, where's the MIB mind-wipey pen?"

His lips twitched and he dropped his eyes for a second as if taking it to compose himself. "That won't be necessary," he finally said.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "What's up, Son of Coul? I've been mum on all things Gods, aliens, and government cover-ups…"

He glanced down either way of her hallway before taking a step forward. "I have a proposal for you, Miss Lewis, one I think you'll find very lucrative."

She frowned, but held the door open wider for him. "I'm listening…"

Darcy figured it was just a ploy. That they saw her as their weakest link and wanted to keep a closer eye on her. But apparently Jane had signed on to a shaky contract with SHIELD wherein they'd supplied her with a lab and everything she needed to get the Einstein-Rosen Bridge back up and operational, obviously because they were interested in what was going on over on the other side and not because they had concerns regarding Jane's romantic life.

"She needs somebody to watch over her," Coulson said. "Since she's familiar with you, we thought you might be a better choice than any of our agents or interns."

"She needs somebody to keep her from drowning in her Cheerios," Darcy corrected with a snort. "And I'm guessing she won't let one of your jack-booted lackeys hang around because she doesn't trust them."

"In a nutshell," he agreed with a shrug.

"I'm not sure you understand what my degree is in, Agent Smith," she told him on a sigh, before taking a seat on the edge of her bed, next to her newly packed up dorm things. "I was interning for Jane because I needed six credits. The only science I rock is of the political variety…" She shrugged. "I like her and I don't want her working herself to the bone, but I can't construct my life around her needs…" She raised an eyebrow. "Just 'cause I start out a lowly grunt, doesn't mean this caterpillar won't grow some wings."

Arms crossed in front of him, one hand gripping the opposite wrist, he stared at her, brow furrowed slightly. "Working for SHIELD would have its advantages… We may be a secret organization to the general public, but I guarantee you that those who work in politics, who have a hand up on the right rungs of the ladder, know who we are…" He raised an eyebrow. "We could be the foot you need in the door."

"You're saying you'll help me make connections, kick my career into action?" She snorted, leaning back. "That all sounds pretty in theory, but let's face it. Making coffee and Pop-tarts for Jane isn't exactly the kind of preparatory interning I need to make it anywhere… My shiny new degree was mostly just class work and an internship with the wrong kind of science… I need something solid, and I'm afraid running errands for an astrophysicist isn't going to get me that."

"You drive a hard bargain," he said, though he looked like he admired her brain, whereas the last time they went toe-to-toe he was exasperated over her passion for her iPod. "You'll teach someone to take over your position with Dr. Foster," he decided with a short nod. "Prepare them, endear them to her, and when you're done, you'll work directly for me."

She frowned, eyed him up and down, and then said, "I want in on politics, Coulson, not espionage."

He offered a vague smile. "In a few months, you'll know how naïve that statement was," he muttered. "In the meantime, you'll work as my assistant, and trust me, you'll be meeting all the right people, shaking all the right hands, and making the kind of impression you need to if you want to make it in that world." He waved his finger around. "I have agents coming for your things; we'll have you moved into SHIELD headquarters by tonight."

"And if I say no to the offer?" she asked, rising from her bed, hands on her hips.

"You won't," he said simply, side-eyeing her as he moved toward the door.

"What, does your super-try training come with mind-reading skills too?" she snarked.

"Miss Lewis, you're leaving Culver with passable grades, above-average intelligence, an inadequate brain-to-mouth filter, and a complex about growing up…" His eyebrows rose. "You were in and out of trouble in your teens and that lack of direction followed you into college, where you had trouble deciding on a major. You took the internship with Dr. Foster because you'd run out of time to find one in your actual field of expertise and she, being desperate, took you." He shook his head. "I'd venture a guess that you're not even sure you want to work in this field, but you're on your last leg and your parents won't pay for you to be in school forever…" He opened the door and faced her. "I can't decide your future for you, but I can give you the tools to find out if this is what you want to do."

Darcy stared at him, rolling the information over in her head.

Coulson was right. If she signed on with them, he probably would introduce her to senators and politicians, not even just those in the States, but internationally. It was that which made her pause. "You travel a lot?"

His lips curled at the corners. "Constantly."

"And I'd be going along…?"

"As soon as you train someone to take over in your stead with Foster, we'll be attached at the hip."

She smirked. "I'm hippy, Coulson, might make dodging bullets a little hard to do."

"Try not to cause any international incidents," he said, in a voice that said he'd had enough people do that in the past. "You'll be outfitted with a bulletproof vest, if you're at all concerned."

She shrugged. "Do I get my own gun?"

He blinked. "I'll answer that question after you've been tested."

She frowned. "Tested…?" She shook her head. "What happened to paper-pushing and assisting? I thought I'd be fetching you your morning coffee and updating you on which big-wig you were lying to so things stay copasetic, all while personally schmoozing my way into a comfy job somewhere with awesome benefits."

"You will," he said simply. "And to make sure that you're prepared for the kinds of situations we'll be faced with, you'll be tested. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and socially. If everything turns out as expecting, you'll enter field training."

"That sounds like running…" She grimaced. "Is there a lot of running?"

He blinked at her again, and she took that as his silent sign that yes, there would be a lot of running.

Sighing, Darcy stood from her bed. "Y'know, there wasn't a phys ed portion of my schooling… Nobody ever said Capitol Hill was a literal climb."

His mouth twitched again. "I'll take that as your verbal consent to sign on with us." He snapped his fingers.

Three agents suddenly appeared and stepped into her room to start collecting her things.

Darcy watched her college life be carried away by g-men and wasn't sure if she was happy or terrified.

Probably the latter.