Disclaimer: Don't own Marvel.


SWEET LULLABIES


She was now Austrian.

Many events that impacted the Earth had passed. Captain America, a hero (a name she was far too familiar with), made headline news as he self sacrificed himself to save thousands. The Allies won the war, Hitler died and during D-Day, everyone danced to their hearts content. Japan was bombed, it's effect forever long lasting. While the war was over, no one seemed to recover. In fact, it only became worse as treaties between countries tensed. People were slowly settling back into their skin, yet all remained weary as wives turned into widows and children orphans. The war left a gaping hole in history and humans began to feel no trust amongst each other anymore.

Ruth, from what she knows, went to Sokovia while Max was travelling through Europe, scraping whatever he could, both parents dead. Not long after that, her soldier fell, lost and shrouded by the inevitable future her Father had set out for her.

But deep inside, Darcy already knew of his fate. The last time she tried to intervene with her Father's plan, he pulled her back, literally. Sending her existence nearly as far as fucking Q Continuum. That was delightful. Nothing compared to the second time when he tore space. Then there was the third strike, which lead her to the age of extinction, it was fucking wonderful. Soon enough Darcy stopped trying, because when the Big Guy wants something his way, it's kept his way. He was right in a way, the soldier was meant for a bigger part to play in the universe. Doesn't mean she likes it, there was no fun to it. And anyways, Darcy always preferred happy endings to the tragic ones.

(She did however, tried to save the soldier in a few of the multiverse. Her Father locked her up in the void for who knows how long.

Darcy hates the void.

It's colder than winter.)

So now she was in Austria, and took the time to properly learn how to the play the piano. She managed to participate in the town's local orchestra where they performed every weekend. She was Darla, and worked part time as a nurse. For a moment Darcy was tempted to be a nun, only to have found a pleasant apartment that she decided to rent out for the next few months. Life as Darla was nice, during weekdays, and sometimes Saturday if needed, she worked hard and brought patients to the medical room. Weekends were generally reserved for music while Sunday is going to church. Unlike Darcy who liked pin curls and pastel dresses, Darla wore her hair with a practicality and was more often seen wearing floral dresses. She visited her favourite coffee shop every lunch break and ordered a ginger snap with cookies.

Everything was great, normal. Well, as normal as you can get after the war.

She was certain that the person in her living room wearing nothing but a cloak and rags however, was not normal. At all.

Unless humans developed a weird tendency of going into people's homes through the windows.

Darcy took a step forward. Spooked, the person's back collided with the wall.

"Uhh...hi?" the person flinched, and Darcy made the decision to stay put until otherwise, "Hey I'm not gonna hurt you, or call anyone. If you want some food and clothes just ask, stealing isn't worth it. Really, I'm nice, I don't mind giving free stuff out. And I'm a nurse, so if you're sick...my name is Darla by the way. Wait. Do you even speak German?"

"I do," came the cautious answer, accent thick and heavy, "A bit. Don't-don't move."

"Hey, don't worry, I won't. What's your name?"

Hazel eyes flashed, "Jiaying."

It was funny how much power a name can hold. With a single name Darcy could weigh the good and evil, tell a person's past, future, current location. Who they are, what their purpose was and so much more. Names are important, valuable. Even an amnesiac person has a name. There were other ways as well, skin to skin contact, voice, Darcy could see all. And with her Other, just by gaze, she can know. She can know and unleash a full force apocalypse. That's why Father never gave her a real name, their was an identity, a word, but never a name. With her Other she was the second most powerful being in this universe and there was no need for a name to be used against her. Darcy, was an alias she used many millenniums ago, it was the closest thing she has as a name, made up by someone as a joke at first. Plus, it was better than being called 'hey you', something that her Other hated.

Jiaying, had such a sad soul. A gale of tormented wind, howling in pain. The sufferings she has experienced, the sufferings she will experience. Darcy frowned when she saw another girl, similar looking to her going grey and ill. She saw of chances that lead to destruction, misery and death. The happy lives were slim to a none. But her Father placed these roles for a purpose.

'Poor child.'

'Poor child indeed.'

"Alright Jiaying, take whatever you want and you can run, and keep on stealing. Or, you can stay, I can make us a snack and help you; money, job, immigration. The choice is yours."

And this was how Darcy ended up eating food with her pre-thief. She was scrambling with it, happily devouring the nutrients. Darcy was never the best cook, not like a mother's, but she managed picking up a few skills here and there. It was good to see some appreciation.

"So," she drawled, "Where are you heading off to?"

"Home," there was a pause, "As far away from here as possible."

Darcy couldn't blame her, the conditions in Europe was horrible, Asia wasn't doing much better. The preferable choices to migrate were the US or Australia. But the woman was clearly Asian, and she had seen what the Nazi's had done to her. China however, would not bring Jiaying salvation. It will give her love and family, only to have it wretched away if she chose that path. She had a good heart and only wants what's best for her race.

Inhumans.

Huh, they're significantly different here.

After dinner, Darcy gave the room to Jiaying, since the couch wasn't so bad. Though Darcy didn't get a wink that night. Hearing Jiaying cry and scream kept her awake. Despite that, she made no movement to comfort. Giving Jiaying false hope had no conclusion, only bringing animosity. Darcy stared at the ceiling, arms crossed, inhaling deeply. She hummed a soft Kree lullaby, the frustrated sobs dying to whimpers. It was bitterly fitting, and in another breath, she fell asleep.

The following days were weird. Jiaying was like an ever present ghost. Perched by the window, like a china doll, empty and delicate. She barely has eaten, her sunken eyes and prominent bones defined that. Darcy didn't want to pry until Jiaying was ready to talk, so instead, during dawn, where the skies painted a beautiful palette of colour, seeping into the windows. Darcy played the piano, filling the silence. A cup of Rose tea would be made, it's essence enlightening. While the simple grained biscuits eased hearth and home. It had gone on like this for nearly a week now, Darcy made no move to change it. Because one day, she knows that Jiaying will lift herself up, though not thanking Darcy directly, she will say, "You have been very kind to me."

It sounded questioning, almost demanding, but Darcy took it as a thank you, "You're welcome."

"You don't know me."

Darcy stopped playing, lifted her hands and shifted, "What ails you?"

"Your kindness," she stated, "No one does all of this without wanting something in return."

"Of course equivalent exchange. I knew a woman once, lovely if a bit eccentric. She had a strong belief of equivalent exchange, gained many things for. But in the end, she was only ever happy when she kept a boy as her own family for personal gains. At first he had to the price, but she could've give anything and yet due to his fine semblance to her former lover did she tell him to stay. No matter how good a person is, sometimes they do things for their own selfish reasons. Just as that boy reminded her of a lover. You remind me of a sister."

Jiaying furrowed her brows, and almost afraid she asked, "What happened to her?"

"What do you think?" Darcy smiled cryptically.

Jiaying didn't say anything else.


Her name wasn't actually Darla.

It was an unspoken fact that they both knew.

Jiaying watched as the elderly soul layered in youthful skin made their way towards the kitchen. The sweet scent of tea made it's way to her nose, a sickly aroma that her feel warm and churn inside. All this warmth and comfort made an emotion that she hadn't felt for a long time, slowly rise like a piece of baking bread. Darla made her feel safe. And Jiaying hated it, because people are not meant to be trusted. Their curiosity will lead to bitter end, and it will only be a matter of time till Darla finds out who—what, she really is:

A terrible monster who canneverdie.

Life was unfair sometimes, and Jiaying hated that her's had already crumbled. She was merely a simple Chinese girl whose parents were humble people, merchants. And then the Japanese invaded their lands and brought the men with pale skin and hair of stock gold into their lands. She was pulled and dragged and cut open. They paid no heed to her screams of mercy and pleads for death, no one did. And even after she had ran, Jiaying could still see the light crisps of blood dug into her fingernails and the hollow phantasm of scars that had never quite fully healed. Despite it's fertile colour, her hair was still mangled and chopped messily, no where near as short as Darla's, but a painful reminder of the prison she once was caged in.

When the tea was drank Jiaying wanted to cry, no one should be trusted but Darla was kind and caring, and the sugar in her mouth left a euphoric feel of home. And it hurt because the simple gestures made her want be human again. For a long time, Jiaying (no, it was the men with white coats) sees herself as an animal. Then Darla came into her life with bundle of silks and warm awaiting milk. Somewhere, deep inside her, hidden underneath all this grief, was a scared little girl that told Jiaying that everything was going to be alright.

Lies.

Only lies of course, since nothing is going to be alright.

However, Darla was patient. She was a nurse that wasn't really a nurse, and watching from the window, Jiaying could see that many loved her. She took care of the elderly and kissed children's wounds. She made sure to carefully wrap a veteran's bleeding heart and caress their hair. Jiaying almost wanted to reach out, put her heart on her sleeve and seek for that yearning want of being safe tucked and wallowed deep. There was a safe amount, so Jiaying won't be sentimentally attached, between. Until one day, it all changed.

Neither saw it coming, or perhaps Darla did. As the man came closer to her, desperation ran in his eyes when he stabbed the plunging knife into her back. Jiaying had been by the window still and watched in shock as he simply left the body and snatched her purse. Darla was lying on the cold, dirty pavement. And without a second thought, after a moment of pale realizations, Jiaying ran down the empty hallways, stopping by the greeting corpse.

She did not cry, why? She hadn't known Darla for a very long time. Jiaying merely held her palm in silence, ignoring the bask of saltiness forcing their way from her eyes. A soft Chinese lullaby, with the same melody that Darla sang to her every night after an unpleasant dream, lifted from her lips. No one saw this tragedy, the moon was out and the alleys were heavily drunk with shadows. And Jiaying felt horrible because while the man stabbed him she simply did nothing. Exactly the same as those people who watched the lab coats open her flesh without uttering a word.

No better.

(She really was a monster).

Then Darla breathed in life.

And Jiaying said, "You're like me."


Darcy smiled.

Ever since the incident—

Darcy didn't really mind, the man's wife was dying and his children incredibly malnourished. It was hard getting a job in War ridden Austria, and a little bit of money would've bought them food. He needed it more than her. She let the blade sink into her spine. And awaited as the silhouette of her niece came to view. Short with wisps of aether, youthful in appearance and just as Darcy remembered her.

'I was in town,' Death had said, 'Why not visit?'

And the being Darcy remembered as her niece since the dusk of life, merely laughed. There was no love between their family and as quickly as she appeared, Death disappeared, oblivion at her wake.

Death is a bitch.

Then she slowly died and wondered how many other assholes lived in the universe. Darcy never really got along with family, stubborn brats. But family is family and as much as she hated most of them, they were the only ones who stood by her side. So as Darcy watched the sky, and with that she died. It was nothing dramatic, but the last thing Darcy saw in this temporarily human body was the great moon. And she couldn't help think how beautiful it was. A shame that Earth only has one moon, she remembered ones of different colors and sizes, all having a unique beauty.

When Darcy dies, she does not dream. Or rather—she chooses not to. It was all rather strange, because everything became a void. Only the silence of space and the hushed whispers of her other. It was peaceful, surrounded by stars and galaxies. Of course it was only a facade of what was truly happening. In each section, Darcy knew of the tortured screams and pleads for help. She could feel planets being destroyed and one Big Bang happening after the next. It didn't last long, since Darcy hates being at the place, the court she has called. Because she knew, that if she turned around, Darcy would see her Other and Judgement will have to be made. So instead, she took a step forward.

And saw a distraught Jiaying.

—ever since the incident, Jiaying trusted her. It brought comfort to the their woman knowing that she wasn't the only one in the world who had inhuman powers. Darcy nearly laughed at that, Jiaying was far from the rock that manages to make tsunamis. But it was all reigned in, and Jiaying had embraced her, seeking for comfort. It was-it felt nice.

"So you can come back from the dead? Like me?"

"Not like you," because Jiaying had many kisses from Death herself. However, it fades through time. And Darcy can only imagine when it will truly disappear. If she stops swallowing the soul of others than Jiaying will be nothing but dust.

Darcy ignored the disappointed look, "I heal. It depends on how critical the wound is."

"I heal too," Jiaying blurted, "Although sometimes, many times, I leave scars."

"Hey, I think scars are a sign of strength," Darcy said and for a fraction Jiaying's eyes lightened and she smiled, only slightly. That was no lie, Darcy can't physically scar. She can make illusion for other people but deep inside she knows that they're fake. Her heart however, is bleeding and wounded, never having the time to scab over as she always picked it. It was her Other, that kept it stitched together so she won't leave any behind. Darcy appreciates scars, they hold persona and character, they tell of hardship and showed strength. "Never be ashamed of them."

"I've never met someone like me. Well, there was this one man, more beast than human. But I wasn't very sure, he was almost feral in a way but he escaped before anything else could happen," she paused and took out a neatly folded paper. Jiaying tried to beaten the edges as she showed Darcy the picture, "Have you ever seen this Darla?"

A serpent, coiled from one end of the galaxy to the next, twin brothers who are wise and terrifying. A deformed snake, lonely and hiding underneath the grounds. She had seen the real being, whose lair was next to the Underworld's doorstep. A magnificent beast, larger than any man who walked upon the Earth. Darcy had watched as it was brutally burned, she had watched as it's soul made it's way to the night sky. How even after that, many drew it's features into canvas and pottery, it's legacy never diminishing. Darcy remembered the times humans took its name for granted—still do. Praising a faux God and slaughtering the blood of innocent. It was frightening, what desperate men would do to achieve power. The hollowed cheekbones and empty eyes in Auschwitz haunted Darcy. All of these dreadful sins were done because of an allusion to infinity.

But it was hypocritical to say that. Because once upon a time, Darcy too became a Hydra member. Long ago, before humans managed to invent a proper wheel. It was clearer back then, not a lot of grey areas, straightforward and ruthless. Perhaps, not as much as those in the Kree Empire, but inhumane nonetheless. There were however, genuinely good men blinded by the truth, easy to manipulate. Those people was the reason why Darcy had joined. It was pity at it's worth, but it had it's merit. But people change and perhaps, as the years gone by, things change for the worse. And she has noticed that as this planet became older, the wearier it's inhabitants become. And Darcy knew, just by looking at Jiaying that it was Hydra who made her afraid of the world.

It was rather sad.

Hail, Hydra. Immortal Hydra. We shall never be destroyed. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. We serve none but the Master—as the world shall soon serve us.

"No," Darcy lied, "I'm afraid I've never seen it before."

"Good. Because if you ever see this Darla, run. Run and never look back. These people, monsters, they're trouble," and in soft Chinese she whispered, "May the heavens have mercy on your soul."

(Darcy saw a shell of the woman she once knew. Burdened with sadness and pain that not many understood. Scars mapped her face and lines showed her age. Her eyes were cold but inside she was crying, of the little girl in front of her who she loved but never had the moment to see her grow. She watched as the daughter gave her last breath and watched as the lover wrenched them away, snipping the strings that bonded them together.)

And may darkness stray clear of your path.


"Goodbye sister."

Were the last words Jiaying spoke to Darcy for a very long time.

It was short and nothing else was needed to be said. Their gaze said enough, and Darcy watched as Jiaying disappeared into the horizon.

(Watching. That's all she does.)

Darcy frowned because the next time they'd meet would be underneath the dry sun.

After Death had left a trail.


Austria was beautiful.

Which was strange, because the last time Peggy was here it was admits of war. Destruction stood in front of her as death followed. All she had seen was the blood of civilians and the bones of her friends. It was different now.

Once the Nazi had surrendered, after they infiltrated HYDRA, her view changed. Instead of looking at the sky for airplanes, she found herself looking at the tall mountain peaks. What greeted her for dinner wasn't crumbling rations, it was a locally made apple strudel that melted in her mouth. There were no more red banners that hung from the roofs, there was no more fear crawling the corners. Sure, there were those that stared at them (the SSR, the Allies) as if they were going to pounce like an undignified animal, but it was nice to see the children laughing. You didn't get much of that during the war, especially in her home country where sirens dominated and comfort pitched in black.

Peggy looked at the case files. The pictures that stared at back at her was ugly and explicitly displayed the horrors of the war. She inhaled deeply, quickly putting them all back into a uniformed folder. With a shaky breath, her fingers trailed to the tea cup. Porcelain, cut perfectly, decorated in blue watercolor and jagged cracks. For a moment, all Peggy saw was a dark navy blue hidden underneath a standard army jacket. It was accompanied by blonde and clear eyes. Untainted and—Peggy held back a sob and instead, gulped a mouthful of tea. It was undignified, it was raw, it was real.

"Sie ersticken."

Peggy blinked and looked up to see lazy blue eyes. It was a woman, a nurse more specifically. Her hair was untucked and lips painted a stereotypical red. Nothing screamed danger, she was attractive in a classic way but it was hidden in a subdued manner. This was someone who has experienced pain and loss. Yet it wasn't completely loss, there was a brightness in her smile, one of humor and mischief. It showed the woman's youth, the hope that everyone was struggling to hold onto. But what caught Peggy's attention the most was her eyes. They were old, and reminded her too much of the soldiers going back home. What frightened Peggy the most, was that it was like looking back at a mirror.

"Ah," Peggy mused, "You're right."

She grinned wider, "American?"

Peggy nearly drowned at being compared to a Yankee, "British. Peggy—oh, please do take a seat."

"Danke. Mein name ist Darla."

Darla, was a very sweet girl. Her English was terrible and Peggy took the joy on teaching her British slangs that made Darla laugh. Peggy learned that Darla was Austrian-Hungarian and was a qualified nurse, though worked in the nearby clinic throughout the war. In turn, Peggy told her cover story. How she was with the Red Cross and were helping the wounded. It was vague, but Darla didn't press for anything else. Instead she looked almost understanding, like a mother who just listened to her distressed child. And then came an odd question, one that made Peggy halt and look twice.

"You're lost."

Two simple words, spoken clearly and focused. There was no hint of an accent, it was Americanized, and effortlessly rolled off Darla's tongue. For a moment, Peggy's mind automatically went to 'enemy'. But the unguarded shoulders and relaxed position said otherwise.

"Excuse me?"

"You're lost," she repeated with bitter amusement, "I can see it in your seele."

Soul.

Peggy noticed how she went back to the heavy laced accent. She also noticed the knowing look in her eyes, ancient and filled with fountains of knowledge. And in a blink, it disappeared. Darla laughed, broken and horrible. Once she calmed down, Darla leaned her chin into the palm of her hand, "No need to be surprised. Many lost. Some worst than others. You main fraulein, are drowning. Weg. Someone close, liebe."

"But that's it," Peggy suddenly blurted, "It hurts to watch someone you love, give their heart to someone else. But you know what hurts more? Knowing that he'll never wake up."

Peggy loves Steve.

But it was nothing compared to Steve and Bucky's love for each other. Even a blind man could see the devotion they held for each other. Bucky was Steve's protector and Steve was what kept Bucky together, what kept him stable. Barnes was the killer of the group, he was the sniper. And Peggy knew what that could do to someone's mind. They were childhood friends, their love for each other was unconditional. In a world filled with small minded bigots, no one would ever say it out loud. But they were more than partners, it was deeper then marriage, it was greater than blood. Peggy was envious of their relationship, but at the same she couldn't help but watch with awe. It was pure and unlike anything she has ever seen.

When Bucky died, everything changed. Steve was marred by the war, he grieved and it was an anchor that pulled him down. No one could approach him like they used to, he became a ghost. Peggy hated it, watching the man she loves shatter into pieces. And before she knew it, he travelled too far for her to reach. She remembered the day all too clearly. Static in the air, the last sound of his voice and finally silence. Peggy can still feel her clogged throat, a cage to hide the tears. And in her mind she could see an image. With a cloudless sky and soldiers in black. The American flag loosely draped in top of a finely cut box. She could hear the reminiscent of the final gunshot, the last requiem of a song. Hundreds came, it was a funeral like no other.

"Sometimes people don't know they have protektoren. It is a terrible thing. But there is a moment when the protektoren needs to let go and find a new zweck. I have faith in you. You will learn."

"You speak in experience."

"I have fallen. Too many times."


That was the first time Peggy Carter met Darcy.

It wasn't the last.

.

.

.

.

There are little strings called fate.


AN: I hoped you like it! Did anyone get the Star Trek cameo? Q Continuum.

Here are some facts:

Inhuman:
The Kree experimented on humans millions of years ago, the product are the Inhumans whose power activates when in contact with terrigen.
Examples: Black Bolt, Medusa, Lash, Hive.

TRIVIA

Death: Is the person/being that Thanos is trying to court.
Jiaying: Is the mother of Skye/Daisy Johnson a.k.a Quake, an Inhuman (Agents of Shield).
Ruth and Max: Are based on comic characters, and are related to very important people. Can you guess?