((Thank you for the reviews! I'm moving with a slower approach to this one, different things to get just right. Buildup, woohoo!))
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Chapter 2
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It turns out that Logan is staying in the motel as well. When Darcy asks, as she sways down the hall, why he's not in the free housing set up for mill workers, he just levels a look at her. "Darlin', I spend all day with those idiots. Why the hell would I want to be around 'em at night?"
Her laugh echoes down the hall. For all his supposed annoyance at her being there, he still walks her to her room and waits until he hears the latch pull, before moving toward his own.
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The next day Darcy is awoken by her phone going off, the dulcet tones of Ke$ha alerting her to her more suit-wearing boss calling. She stares in bleary confusion, at the lit-up screen, trying to remember why it was so weird to her that her phone was making noise. Then she sees the still-life of a moose on the wall next to the bed, and it all comes back to her.
"Reception was shitty here yesterday," Are the first words she greets Agent Phil Coulson with, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It's 7am, but the sun is already bright around the edges of the dark blind over the window. Late Summer in Alaska for you, she supposed.
"Morning to you too, Agent Lewis. We improved it." Darcy rolls her eyes, toasting her toes over the heating vent for a few minutes. Of course SHIELD did some jiggery-pokey with satellites and maybe even her phone itself while she was sleeping, why the fuck not? "We'd prefer swift communication. Have you found Wolverine?"
"Assuming he hasn't skipped town in the night, yes," She grabs the biggest, softest old-man cardigan she's brought with her (that she totally might have swiped from Captain America's laundry basket, she'll give it back. The man has excellent taste in Remus Lupin-esque apparel), juggling her cell on her shoulders as she tugs it on, "He's fine. Broody. Hasn't started anything though. I don't think he'd be too agreeable though, if I'm reporting to you on his every move, every day."
"Noted. I'm glad you've established a rapport. We'll be watching." He hangs up, and Darcy peers at her phone suspiciously for a moment, as if it might bite her. No such bad luck, though, and so she scrolls through to see if she's missed anything in the two days that it's been off. There are a few texts from people who hadn't realized she'd been gone. No less than three missed calls and subsequent voice mails from someone she'd sworn she'd deleted from her phone. Thankfully there was one from Jane too, and that sufficiently distracts her from the ulcer threatening to start in her gut.
"Hey boss, eat breakfast?" She asks cheerily, tugging on a pair of yoga pants.
"Darcy you don't need to babysit me," Jane grumbles, and yet Darcy totally hears the crackling over the line of her boss opening a granola bar, and smirks, "I um...do kind of need an in on your filing system, though. This temp Coulson set me up with is as clueless as...well, you were, a year ago."
"Mmmm, brutal honesty. This is why we're friends," Darcy yawns, "I'll send you an email with my codes."
"Great. Um, did you steal clothes from...some people before you left?"
"Borrowed. It's not my fault most of my winter wear got left in California, I was promised a summer in New York."
"Well, just be sure you bring them back. Thor likes that flannel shirt."
"Yes mam."
And if Black Widow doesn't get her fox fur hat back before it gets cold here, I've been informed that your ability to walk may be forfeit."
Well. That hit the mark.
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The motel actually turns out to serve a pretty delicious homemade breakfast. Considering only four people are staying there though, and all of them for indefinite lengths of time, as Darcy learns from the elderly proprietor, this shouldn't be too surprising. Still, Darcy gratefully digs in to her scrambled eggs and pastries. Noting that the poor old gal seems bored, chatty and sweet, Darcy is perfectly happy to sit and ask questions about the town, the mill, and sneak in a few about what Logan's been up to.
She learns that, when winter comes and the loggers leave, the tiny blip on the map becomes a ghost town, most people leaving for larger towns further south. The man who runs the mill, his wife and kids, a few other long-time mill workers. The woman's daughter and son in law run the diner, and her brother owns the store. And yes, her friend did leave for work that day on his motorcycle, hard-hat in hand, and was she his girlfriend? Because she might be an old-fashioned lady, but she was perfectly fine with putting them both in one bigger room.
"Ah, not a problem, I'm just here to make sure he's eating his vegetables," Darcy quips, even as she knows her face is bright red.
"That's too bad, working up here kills plenty of romances for the young fellas." The old gal sighs, "No wonder they go a little crazy."
Suddenly Darcy is all about escaping the conversation, which weirds even herself out. Until she remembers that oh, right, coming here had been the perfect excuse for her to end a romance (or at least, an extreme-like-mance) as well.
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Darcy spends most of her day doing a whole lot of nothing. She's almost tempted to check out the mill, but for all her bravado, that's not going to happen. Because a girl can spout off against a culture that propagates women being intimidated by men all she wants and she's correct, but she's also not stupid. Though she won't let Logan know, the thought is frankly terrifying, and more power to the handful of cut babes who do work there. Darcy figures she can churn out a dynamite paper out of the experience, at least.
Instead she heads to the general store to poke around, and happily discovers that one corner of the big converted barn actually has a big old fireplace with couches and worn-out books on the shelves. "Never had a library, or community center, or even a church," The old man at the counter shrugs, "Figured it couldn't hurt to have a spot what could be all three." And like that, Darcy has found her saving grace. She settles into one of the ginormous old leather couches and dives into a simply ancient copy of Wuthering Heights, the Kindle in her motel room be damned. Aside from a break for a lunch of rock candy and donuts, her butt doesn't leave that couch for most of the day.
She tries to remind herself that working for SHIELD will probably never be like this ever again, it'll be back to lab-ratting, learning to fire a gun, and to wear a suit, and so she must enjoy this while it lasts.
"You're still here," Logan is actually the one to startle -her-, flopping down on the couch across from her. Darcy blinks, eyes going to the clock on the hearth, seeing that yep, it's well past 5pm. She looks back at Logan, whose hair is a little damp from a post-work shower. She clears her throat, unfolding herself from the couch to stand and stretch and god -damn-, her everything was stiff.
"I am," She finally replies, yawning, flopping back down, noting that the man was staring a little. She was rocking the good jeans today, with the Bob's Big Boy tanktop and Cap's cardigan. Darcy tilts her head, smirking, and Logan just gives her a glare, eyes snapping back up to her face. And then he holds up a somewhat greasy brown paper bag.
"I brought us fried chicken from the diner," He tells her, a bit too cordially. She blinks a few times.
"...Us."
"I figure the sooner I convince you I aint all torn up, the sooner you'll tell your bosses, and Rogue, that I'm fine, and then go home," He finally smirks, and Darcy outright grins.
"See, the flaw in that reasoning? Is that you'll still be in Alaska, brooding, and thus not that fine." She points out. He narrows his eyes again. "...But I'm all about free food!"
"Good. Grab your coat. Franklin hates people eating food in here that someone else made."
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It really is beautiful outside, the mountains looming around all blue and white and brown, the nearby lake a deep indigo. It's chillier than Darcy thinks August should ever be, but it's not unpleasant. She doesn't think she could ever get used to so much daylight, though, and says as much to Logan while they settle into their messy dinner, perched on the woodpile behind the store, tall-boys in hand.
"Oh it makes up for it in the winter," He assures her, grinning, "S'all just dark and snow and cold for months. Fuckin' miserable."
"Soooo, I take it this means you'll at least be back in Westchester before the snow starts falling?" Darcy pushes her luck, giving him wide eyes over her beer.
"You just do not let up, do you darlin'?" He grumbles, shaking his head, and Darcy gets the impression that she's pushed his limit for nagging. At least for the time being. So she backs down, quiet for a little while, eying him between her beer and her chicken, appreciating the way she can kinda still make out how buff his arms are in his denim jacket. Her eyes slide back up to his face, his gaze on the treeline. Her smile returns, a little softer now.
"Right, no more of it then," She replies quietly, eyes snapping to the trees as well when Wolverine turns to give Darcy the eye in turn. "You wheedle at me, now." He chuckles at that, which she takes as a good sign.
"Why're you here?"
"I kinda told you that as soon as I met you."
"You know what I mean," He grins again, and it's a really nice grin, Darcy decides. All grit and snark and genuine humor. Her kind of smile. "So they needed someone, and Rogue asked you. Still doesn't tell me why you said yes. And don't tell me it was just doin' her a favor," He adds, before she can fall back on that very easy, very sensible answer. Logan is a sharp cookie, that's obvious. "Young, pretty, just moved to New York City, workin' for a nice SHIELD paycheck, if I aint mistaken. Why the hell did you agree to come up here?"
"...Girl has to have her secrets, Wolvie," Darcy finally replies, swallowing, "...Needed to get some space. City will still be there when I get back...well," She corrects herself, smirking, "Hopefully. Kinda almost got itself destroyed this spring. But that's why we have Avengers for that sort of thing."
"So by rights," He concludes, still grinning, though it's lost its edge now, "You don't wanna hurry and finish this assignment either." Darcy's eyes narrow at the horizon, in consternation.
"And I think you called me pretty, back there somewhere." She points out, distraction tactics keen, and earning herself a chuckle.
"Oh, Chuck's good," Logan mumbles, tearing into another chicken wing, "Sent a gal he probably knew I could go ten rounds with."
"That an invitation, big guy?" She asks, voice dropping, grinning his way, and is rewarded with a chicken bone flicked at her head.
"Dangerous avenue there, darlin'," He clears his throat just a little too loudly, though, eyes flickering to her lips, "...So, how did you manage to leave enough of a wake behind you in New York, if you'd only been there two months?"
"Nosy, rude," Darcy tilts her nose in the air, feeling a good beer buzz coming on. And between the smell of woodsmoke, greasy fried chicken, and the good-looking guy next to her, all was pretty dang swell, despite his prying. "What can I say big guy, I work fast." She sighs. "Look, are you going to get into it about your little show back in Virginia?"
"Point taken. Just curious."
"Is being here like, cathartic?" Darcy asks, yet again changing the subject, suddenly. At this point Logan is already used to her flippant brain, she can tell. "I mean, the work has to be repetitive, the days, the people..."
"And after a while, everyone ignores you." He points out. Darcy nods, slowly, finishing the last of her chicken.
"More than fair, and good to know," She hops off the pile of logs, cracking her neck, "Let's go get hammered." The expression of Very Bad Idea on his face is priceless, eyes narrowing, watching her for a spell as if she's the more dangerous sort of animal. Darcy grins, tossing her long brown hair out of her face, "Please, you know you'll drink me under the table, so let's make it...educational."
A single scruffy brow cocks, and Wolverine looks intrigued despite himself. "As arguin' with you seems to be ten different kinds of pointless, lead on pretty girl."
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