fic: I don't want your money, I don't want your crown (see, I've come to burn your kingdom down)
category: thor/captain america/avengers
genre: humor/action/romance
chapter rating: r (violence)
overall rating: nc-17 (eventual explicit sex)
ship: darcy/steve
summary: When Steve is sent in to apprehend the extremely skilled assassin, Darcy Lewis, he finds more than he bargained for, and a very unexpected ally in the process.
[2]
"What is the plan here?" Steve wondered as he pulled his shield from his back and followed her through the dark, empty office they'd entered via the window.
"Your guys are three floors up," Darcy told him, thrusting her chin forward. "There'll be at least two agents guarding Barton and Barnes. I doubt they're anybody you know, but they'll probably be wearing SHIELD gear, just a head's up. We take them out, retrieve your friends, take the elevator down to the ground floor, where I have a ride waiting for us. From there, we'll go to a private airstrip. Easy-peasy, Cap." She clapped a hand against his chest and then walked toward the door.
He gripped her forearm and squeezed to get her to stop.
She looked down at his hand and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to tempt assassins?"
He frowned and loosened his grip. "Currently, we have the upper-hand. Surprise works in our favor, but I need a game plan here. I can't just walk out into enemy fire."
"Technically, it'd still be friendly fire, wouldn't it?" Her brow furrowed thoughtfully and then shrugged. "Semantics, I guess. Look, don't worry your pretty little head so much. Think of this as a rescue mission. You're the dude in distress and I'm the hero come to save you, all right?"
"Darcy—"
"I get that you're a team player, but I'm not. So this little pow-wow is really only wasting my time." She pulled her arm from his grip and turned to the door, smoothing her hands down her dress. "Watch and learn."
Walking out the door with confidence, Darcy made her way to the elevator at the end of the hallway, never pausing or slowing. Steve walked at her back, his gun out and his shield braced on his arm as his eyes darted and he kept his ears open, searching for any sign of an enemy. Darcy hit the button for the elevator and turned to look back at him, rolling her eyes at his very obvious soldier-pose. "Relax, Big Guy. They're not expecting much trouble on this side. They've already taken out the only two guys here that would give them a problem. Everybody else is just waiting for me to give the signal that you've been taken care of."
"And what's the signal?"
"Oh, I just pop my head out the door and wave them in. Rumlow and his boy's enter, clean up the scene, sweep you under the carpet. It's sad, actually, how lackluster it all is." She shrugged and stepped onto the elevator as the doors opened.
Steve joined her, eyeing her curiously, his lips set in a frown. "So that's it? They bring you someone to kill and you just… take the shot?"
"I told you, you're different. My jobs are usually at a distance; a nice, long scope making it feel more personal than it really is. But there have been a few that needed a more hands-on approach."
"The poisoned knives?"
"Is that judgement I'm hearing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Just feels wrong, is all. You should give your opponent a fighting chance. They deserve that, don't they?"
Darcy snorted. "This, coming from a suped up soldier? You think most people stand a chance against you? Call it what you want, sweetheart, but anybody who gets in the ring with you has no real chance of walking away and we both know it. They might live, but that's because you chose to let them live." She looked up at him as she reached down and pulled the skirt of her dress up her thighs. "Remember that."
He watched her hands as she pulled two long, silver needles from a strap around her thigh. As the doors opened, she hardly paused before she stepped forward, smirked for the two men who looked up, saw her, and raised their guns. She threw the needles with expert precision; one went directly through the center of an agent's neck while the other hit the second agent in the hand, pinning it to his chest before he could reach for the radio on his shoulder, his fingers poised to press the button and call it in to Rumlow.
Steve watched as both men stared back at her in shock, gave a violent shake, and then collapsed to the floor, blood bubbling on their lips.
She ran forward then, anticipating the next attack, and he watched as a third guard exited the door just down from where the other two agents lay dead. Darcy leapt over the fallen bodies and twisted in mid-air, kicking her leg out and landing a hard blow to the remaining agent's face. He slammed into the doorjamb and stumbled forward, blood dribbling from his mouth. He reached for the gun on his hip, but didn't stand a chance as she turned to face him. Bashing an elbow into his cheek, she reached for his gun with him and turned it toward his leg, squeezing off two shots. As he let out an anguished cry, she wrapped her arm around his neck and, with her hand tucked under his chin, gave his head a violent twist, snapping his neck. While he collapsed to the floor, she kept hold of his gun, and casually checked the magazine to see what was left.
Turning, she raised an eyebrow at Steve, who stood back, gun half-raised. "You gonna help me move these two? I have impressive upper-body strength, but we're short on time."
He stepped forward, shaking off his momentary shock. He'd seen Natasha move like that, with frightening efficiency, and he'd been impressed, if a little concerned with how careless she was about the bodies she left in her wake. But he'd never been attracted to Natasha, not like that. He considered her a friend, a teammate, and he respected her for both her work as an Avenger and her work within SHIELD, as a fellow agent, but respect had never gone beyond that. He liked strong women; Peggy was a shining example of that. But he'd always thought a sense of honor came with that, and he wasn't sure where Darcy Lewis' was. Yet, still, he felt his gut tighten with undeniable desire as he'd watched her attack and conquer.
He shook the thought off, focusing on the situation, and joined her in the office, where he found both Clint and Bucky sprawled out on the floor, completely unconscious, stripped of any weapons and tied up just to be sure.
"Why didn't they kill them, too?" Steve wondered as he reached down to grab Bucky up, hauling him over his shoulders. It was no small task; Bucky wasn't exactly light, but he managed.
Darcy hauled Clint out of the room with her hands stuck under his armpits and grunted to him, "Because. They were still useful."
"What makes you so sure they wouldn't put two and two together?"
"Maybe they would have, eventually. But for the moment, they would've thought I was tipped off and got the drop on you and Rumlow would back it up. I'd put money on it that the three guards I took out weren't SHIELD agents. They were just wearing SHIELD gear so Barnes and Barton would trust them. Rumlow would prove they weren't theirs and had to be on my payroll. These two would call your little team to arms and while they were tracking down me, HYDRA and SHIELD could continue on, business as usual, building their little world dominating helicarriers." She puffed out an irritated breath as she dropped Barton in the elevator, slumped against the wall.
Steve put Bucky down beside him and then raised an eyebrow at her as she hit the button for the parking garage. "Helicarriers?"
"So I might've snooped a little while they were recruiting me to…" She closed one eye and mimicked shooting him with a finger-gun. "Project Insight. Let's see if I can remember what the notes said… Hm… Three next-generation helicarriers, uh, synced to a network of targeting satellites, continuous suborbital flight, yadda yadda yadda, long-range precision guns that can kill a thousand hostiles a minute. You get the drift. Basically, they'll kill anybody who so much as thinks of stepping out of line."
She watched the numbers climb down while Steve rocked back on his heels, his head swimming.
Blowing out a breath, he shook his head. "I thought the punishment usually came after the crime."
Darcy turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Paranoia does things to people. They start planning ahead for what they assume is the inevitable. It doesn't matter how far away that 'inevitable' is, they just know that they'll be ready for it. The problem is, one person's perfect world isn't everybody's. And if you start killing off people for what they might do, then the line between right and wrong is more than a little blurry." She eyed him curiously. "You went to war; you never had to do things for what the higher ups called the 'greater good'?"
His jaw ticked. "We did things. Some of which made it hard to sleep at night. But we did it so people would be free… If what you're saying is true, then that's not what I fought for."
Darcy stared at him searchingly, and seemed to have found what she looked for. She nodded. "So let it be something you fight against." The doors dinged before they opened and she turned.
There was a woman standing not far from them, early to mid-twenties, thick brown hair and olive skin; she had an assault rifle in hand.
"Darcy," Steve stressed, reaching for his gun.
"Relax. She's with me." Stepping off the elevator, Darcy walked toward the woman with a grin, and, without pausing, began signing to her, her hand gestures almost too fast for Steve to keep up.
Darcy: [Thank you for coming. I know how you feel about SHIELD.]
The Girl: [Of course. You needed me. Are those the men you told me about?]
Darcy: [Yes. Can you bring the truck around?]
The Girl: [Sure. Casualties?]
Darcy: [Three, so far.]
The Girl: [Were you hurt?] She looked Darcy over worriedly, stretching a hand toward her shoulder and squeezing.
Darcy shook her head, covering the girl's hand to pat it comfortingly. [I'm fine. I promise. Did you get her?]
The Girl grinned. [She is safe. Angry. But safe.]
Darcy nodded. [Thank you.]
The Girl motioned behind her then, glanced briefly at Steve, and walked off toward a waiting SUV.
Darcy returned to the elevator to help him drag Clint and Bucky out.
"Who is she?" Steve asked shortly.
"She's a friend."
He frowned at her. "Weren't you the one telling me that friends were liabilities not twenty minutes ago?"
"Stasiya is different."
He cast an eye back toward the other woman only to find the SUV backing up in their direction. The back trunk opened and Stasiya joined them, taking up Barton's feet to help Darcy load him into the SUV. She looked even younger up close, Steve thought. Young and far too innocent to be spending her time with a trained assassin. But, as he'd recently been reminded, looks could be deceiving.
Once Bucky and Clint were loaded inside, Darcy closed the back door. "All right, everybody in." She waved them toward the doors and Steve motioned to the back seat, letting her pass him.
She grinned at him as she went. "Afraid I might try to strangle you from behind?"
"Anybody with brains would be."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Yanking the door open, Darcy climbed into the front passenger seat and drummed her hands on the dashboard. "All right, so far, so good." She waved to get her friend's attention and then signed along with speaking, "Stasiya, my sweet, take us to the air strip."
Stasiya nodded at her sharply, glanced quickly at Steve as he put his seatbelt on, and then pulled the SUV forward.
The abrupt lurch sent a box on the seat beside him forward a few inches and Steve heard an angry mewl from inside. Eyeing the box curiously, he asked, "Is that your cat?"
Darcy turned her head, her eyes landing on the carrier beside him. "Yeah."
He stared at her, brows hiked in a silent demand for explanation.
Sighing, she said, "When I picked her up earlier, when you walked in, I set the alarm off in her collar to let Stasiya know things were a go. There's an old dumbwaiter in my kitchen. The building used to be a hotel sixty or so years ago. Anyway, I had it upgraded, in case I ever needed a quick get-away. It's small, but sturdy. Stasiya rode it up to my apartment, grabbed my cat, and here we are."
Steve stared at her. "You don't think that was risky?"
"Hey, that cat's been with me for seven years. I wasn't leaving her behind, superheroes or not."
"Not the cat. Sending Stasiya up to get it," he explained, shaking his head. "What if she'd been caught?'
"She knew the risks. And she's not as fragile as you seem to think she is. I trained her myself. She has a mean right hook. I wouldn't recommend getting in the way of it."
"And what would've happened if they caught her and she ratted us out? Then your whole plan would've been shot to hell…" He shook his head. "For a master assassin, your tactical skills are questionable."
Darcy's eyes narrowed. "She wouldn't have been caught. We had plenty of time and not Rumlow or anybody in the building knew about the dumbwaiter. But, on the off chance you were right, there is no way that Stasiya would have ratted us out. And I resent the implication for her."
Steve frowned. "Just because she can't speak doesn't mean Rumlow wouldn't have found a way to get her to tell him where we were or what we had planned…"
Darcy shook her head. "Rumlow took a crack at her three years ago, when SHIELD wanted to know where I was but couldn't catch me with any of their fancy satellites. They found Stasiya instead, kept her locked up for three weeks, tried every tactic they could think of. And you know what she did?" Darcy cocked her head, an eyebrow raised. "She knocked Rumlow on his ass, stole his knife from him, and cut her own tongue out… Now, sure, it was mostly for show since, like you said, she doesn't speak. But that didn't make it any less painful, and you can bet your ass that it was a very clear message of who her loyalty belonged to. I know you're having trust issues because your people just tried to have you killed, but do us both a favor… Don't ever question my people. If tonight's proved anything, it's that my taste in teammates is better than yours." With that, she turned back around in her seat and looked ahead, her shoulders tensed and her jaw set.
Steve stared at her profile a long moment and then looked toward Stasiya, considering her a long moment. She didn't look like the type, or maybe Darcy didn't seem the type someone would be loyal enough to cut their own tongue out for. But, here they were, and he found himself believing exactly that.
With a sigh, he sat back in his seat, and rubbed a hand down his face.
Darcy was right about one thing; he was coming up wanting when it came to people he could trust, the two men passed out behind him not included.
He still wasn't completely sure he could trust Darcy, but for now, that was exactly what he would have to do.
