A/N *pokes head in* well would you look at all of us gathered here again… So there's a lot of reasons that this chapter took so long to get out but I'm not going to bore you all by listing them and instead get right to things so you don't have to wait any longer :D
But first I have to thank the ever most awesome Merideath for beta-ing this for me like a champ and also for letting me stream of consciousness ramble at her at four in the morning so I can work through writing blocks and for being an all around awesome cheerleader! And if you're not reading her stuff yet then seriously, what are you doing with your life ;)
It was a frigid night in early February that found Steve doing his best to overcome his improved metabolism by downing tumbler after tumbler of Irish whiskey in a bombed-out London pub. He had long since lost track of how much he had had to drink when he heard the tell tale clicks of a woman's heels approaching him.
"Dr. Erskine said that the serum wouldn't just affect my muscles, it would affect my cells. Create a protective system of regeneration and healing. Which means… I can't get drunk." He turned around expecting to see Agent Carter, his eyes widening when instead he spotted Darcy picking her way through the rubble. In his eyes she was a veritable angel delivered from heaven, dressed in sensible wool twill pants and a cream sweater underneath her heavy winter coat.
"What are you doing here?" he questioned with wide eyes. It had been three months almost to the day since he had seen her last, and he could scarcely believe she was here now. A fleeting thought that perhaps the drink was affecting him in ways he didn't anticipate crossing his mind until she closed the distance between them and placed a palm against his cheek.
"Always with that question," she replied with a sad smile, her thumb sweeping gently beneath his red rimmed eye. "Where else would I be right now?"
The lump in his throat made it impossible to respond verbally, so he just wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, burying his face against her cashmere covered stomach. They stayed there like that for several long minutes, Darcy running her fingers through his hair and swaying them back and forth slightly until she realized his shoulders were shaking with silent sobs.
"It's alright, I'm here, you can let it out," she cooed softly.
With her permission, the dam broke and the tears came in earnest, Steve not saying anything more than a choked out Bucky before simply clutching Darcy to him tighter. The pads of his fingers digging into her skin as he grasped onto her like his only lifeline.
Darcy couldn't stop the silent tears that fell down her own face as Steve let out his pent up emotions. She wept for them both, because while she knew her grief couldn't possibly match Steve's, she too, was heartbroken, having considered Bucky a friend in his own right.
It had all started with an off hand joke she had made shortly after their involuntary separation. Although Steve was no longer playing an active roll in the propaganda machine, that didn't stop the system from marching on without him and it certainly hadn't stopped Senator Brandt from using his image. With Captain America's popularity only continuing to grow regardless of his involvement, Darcy had jokingly suggested that she was lucky Steve had the time to write her the long letters that he did, in the free time he had after going after Hydra and answering all the fan mail he must be getting. And even though she'd only been teasing, he'd replied honestly that any and all Captain America fan mail got routed to someone at the Office of War Information where it was answered with a form letter that he didn't write and a picture that he didn't sign. He went on to admit that that if it hadn't been for her steady stream of letters, he would never even have known what it was like to have his name announced at mail call, but that was just part and parcel of being an orphan like him and Bucky, they being each others only real family.
It was only then, that she realized that there was probably a good chance that Bucky wasn't having his name called for mail either. For all of Steve's stories about Bucky's numerous conquests, she doubted that the different girl every week lifestyle really fostered any kind of relationship that would include weekly letters after months overseas. Frankly, she was ashamed of herself for this not having occurred to her before, but from then on out, she always made a point of making sure that there was a letter in the post for Bucky every time she sent one to Steve. He wasn't as consistent as Steve at writing back, maybe one letter for every three or four of hers, but that wasn't the point. The fact that he wrote back at all was just a bonus, it was more important to her that Bucky knew that he had someone out in the world who cared enough about him to take the time to write.
And it wasn't as if the time the correspondence took was any sort of hardship on her part. In fact it was quite the opposite. They quickly discovered they had very similar senses of humor and Steve had mentioned good-naturedly in one of his letters to her, that with all the laughing Bucky did when he read the letters she wrote him, that it was going to be dangerous for him to be stuck between the two of them the next time they were all in the same room.
Of course, that wouldn't be happening now.
"It wasn't your fault," Darcy told him, when it seemed he was calming down.
"You don't know that," he countered, raising his face to hers, his voice thick and raw.
"Yes, I do," she said surely. "You did everything you could."
"How do you know?" Steve asked. "Did someone show you the report?"
"No, no one needed to. I know you," Darcy said simply, brushing a lock of hair that had fallen forward out of his eyes. "You don't know how to do anything less. It's one of the things I love most about you."
Steve had nothing to say in reply, and just leaned heavier against her body, not anywhere near ready to let go of his guilt or belief in his culpability. "How did you know where to find me?" Steve asked, pulling away so he could really look at her, just now questioning her sudden appearance at the destroyed pub. "You walked here by yourself? It's dangerous out there. The air raid sirens were going off earlier."
"The all clear sirens went off about forty five minutes ago," Darcy replied, one eyebrow cocked but giving Steve a pass on the hypocritical nature of his concern since she didn't believe he was anymore bomb proof than she was. "I called Peggy as soon as I checked into my hotel. I figured it would be faster then if I had attempted going through official channels to hunt you down. She said you left the debriefing, saying that you needed a drink, and that no one had seen you since. This is the only bar in London that I know you know. You were also last here with Bucky." She shrugged her shoulders lightly, "I took a chance."
Steve nodded, acknowledging she was correct in her line of reasoning, his eyes darting to the remains of the bar where he and his friend once sat, in what felt like a different lifetime, and then back to table where a carved ivory handled pocket knife was sitting next to the mostly empty bottle of whisky.
Darcy followed his line of sight, a small gasp escaping her throat, when she saw what had his attention.
"He said it was the nicest thing he'd ever been given, maybe even the nicest thing he'd ever owned," he confided, running his finger lightly over the silver plate that forever held the engraved initials JBB. "He always made it a point to leave it in his footlocker when we went out on missions. Said Hydra wasn't worth it getting lost or damaged."
Darcy forced herself to swallow the lump building in her throat. "I'm glad he liked his gift." She had found the pocket knife when she had been shopping for Steve's Christmas present and had quickly added it to her order.
"I carry mine everywhere."
She didn't know what to make of his tone as she watched him pull the golden compass she had given him for the holiday, to replace the brass standard military issue one, out of his pocket. It was almost remorseful, if she had to define it, but she wasn't sure what it was he apologizing for.
"I meant for you to," she replied simply as she watched him absently click open the case, noting that he had placed a picture of her within it. It covered the engraving, but she had no doubt that he had the inscription memorized. "I haven't taken off my necklace since it came in the mail."
Steve glanced up and saw that she was indeed wearing the gold, heart shaped locket that he had found for her while the Commandos were in France. The cluster of amethyst that made up the shape of a flower in the center of the heart reminded him the dress she wore on that last night in London as soon as he saw it, and he knew he had to get it for her. He managed to muster a sad sort of half smile at the sight of it around her neck for the first time, before his gaze was invariably pulled back to the pocket knife on the table.
He remembered the delight on Bucky's face when the package was handed over during mail call and the almost childish glee when he opened it. Bucky had always loved Christmas though, even the year that Steve had caught pneumonia and they had spent everything but the rent money on doctor's visits, he'd managed to scrape something together to mark the holiday. Not this year though, he and the rest of the Howling Commandos spent Christmas Day camped out deep in the Black Forrest and other than Darcy's gifts, which they had received the week before, the day passed with little fanfare. Bucky had declared over their cold and unappetizing c-ration dinners that they would have to make up for it next year. He'd gone on to suggest, while brushing snow off his shoulder, that maybe they could talk Darcy into hosting in sunny California and idly wondered if they put lights on palm trees in Hollywood instead of pines.
Steve was jolted out of his remembrances when the hand that was toying with the Damascus steel blade was covered by one of Darcy's.
"Your hands are like ice," she murmured softly as she gently rubbed them between her own, able to feel the chill radiating from them through her lamb skin gloves. "Come back to my hotel with me, I'm afraid if I let you stay out here any longer you'll be frozen solid," she teased gently.
Steve didn't respond verbally, but allowed himself to be pulled from his seat and obediently followed her on the familiar route back to her hotel, the same she had resided in during her previous stay in London. But the streets that had been busy and full of life the last time they had taken this walk, were now quiet and empty, the dark bombed-out buildings mirroring the change in his mental state.
They silently entered Darcy's hotel room and she dropped his hand to cross over to the ensuite. Steve absently noted that her room was the exact mirror image of the room she had stayed in the last time. It seemed fitting somehow, as he felt like his whole world was backwards and wrong from that night three months prior. The only thing that made any sense to him right now was the small woman who was coming back from the bathroom and leading him towards the sound of running water.
With a gentle but sure touch, she eased him out of his uniform and urged him into the tub, before stripping out of her own clothes and slipping into the steaming water behind him. Darcy didn't try to make conversation, instead she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close until his back was resting against her chest. She let her actions tell him more than what words could express, that he was loved and embraced.
The warm water did its work to bring up his body temperature, but it was Darcy's presence that began to thaw the icy grip around his heart. Settling his head against the curve between her neck and her shoulder he fell into an almost trance like state as she ran her fingers soothingly through his damp hair.
"Bucky's had my back since we were twelve," Steve started after some time, making Darcy jump slightly at his sudden declaration. "I was in the Eighth Street Orphanage and there was some bullies who lived on Tenth who liked to give us all a hard time. I was standing up to them and getting beat up for my troubles, when Bucky intervened and sent them running right quick. They never bothered me again and he became my best friend in world. And ever since then he never let me down. Not once."
"And now… he was counting on me to keep him safe… and I failed." His shoulders slumped and the despondency practically poured out of him.
"How?"
"How what?"
"How did you fail?" Darcy challenged calmly.
Steve's torso twisted sharply as he turned to face her, water sloshing carelessly onto the floor.
"Bucky is dead!" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing with a multitude of conflicting emotions.
"But how is that your fault?" she continued to push, refusing to back down.
"I should have been faster, been smarter. I should have seen it coming and done something to save him," he insisted turning back around.
Darcy maneuvered around his body so that she was sitting on his lap facing him. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with the back of his head. "As far as I know your super soldier upgrades didn't come with the ability to see the future, or travel through time. So ask yourself honestly, what could you have done?" she asked.
"I-" he choked on the words, his gaze shifted to the back wall over her shoulder, staring at nothing as he seriously contemplated her questions.
They were nothing he hadn't already repeatedly asked himself over the course of the day and into the night. He played the incident on train over and over in his mind trying to decipher where it went wrong, what he could have done differently. But in the least emotional part of his brain, where he purely utilized the strategic mastery he had been gifted with by science, he couldn't manage to save Bucky. Not once Bucky picked up his shield and faced off against the Hydra soldier.
"I told him to get down. Why did he have to get up?" Steve was asking pleadingly before he realized he was speaking. "I was fine, I could have handled it. I didn't need him to protect me anymore."
"Bucky didn't know how to stay down anymore than you do," Darcy said reaching up to brush a damp lock of hair off his face, the intensity in her gaze softening. "You'll both do anything you can to protect the ones you care about, even at risk to yourself. It's a shared quality that makes you both great men. But you can't blame yourself for Bucky's actions."
Steve shook his head, even as he heard the truth in Darcy's words, he wasn't ready to let go of his self recrimination. "They're my team," he insisted. "Ultimately, it's my responsibility to keep them safe. He wouldn't have ever been there if it wasn't for me."
"Where, on the train or on your team?"
Steve shrugged not meeting her gaze, instead watching the tub faucet drip slowly.
"Where does your accountability begin? Where do you draw the line? Is it your fault because you enlisted and became Captain America? Bucky enlisted before you did, and by that logic he never would have made it out of that Hydra factory back in November," Darcy pointed out gently.
When Steve didn't seem inclined to respond, Darcy sighed and tried one last tactic.
"Did Bucky know the risks of what you were doing?"
Steve nodded, still apparently entranced by the forming water droplets.
"Do you think he thought the mission was worth the risks?" she asked again.
"We captured Dr. Zola," he said softly, not caring that he was revealing classified information. "He's Schmidt's right hand man. Colonel Phillips is interrogating him right now to find our where HYDRA's main base is."
"Then you're dishonoring him by blaming yourself," she said bluntly.
Steve's eyes snapped to hers, something akin to shock in his expression.
"Holding yourself responsible means that you don't respect Bucky's decisions as a man or a solider," she declared frankly. "You can still miss him, and mourn him, and love him, without punishing yourself."
Steve mulled this over for a long moment, and Darcy gave him the time, waiting patiently for how he would respond. "You're right." he finally nodded. "You're right."
It still hurt, there was still a gaping hole in his chest that his best friend used to fill. He wasn't sure if it would ever stop hurting, he couldn't imagine that it would, but he knew he couldn't shoulder the blame all by himself. No, he would place it on exactly who it belonged. Johan Schmidt and all of Hydra.
"I'm going after Schmidt. I'm not stopping until all of Hydra is dead or captured," he stated with conviction.
"I don't expect anything less," she responded resolutely. "One more question for you and then I've said my peace."
"Alright," Steve nodded wondering what there was left to say.
"What do you think Bucky would say to you if he was here right now?" she posed.
Steve took a minute to consider her question before a wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Honestly, he would probably smack me upside the head and call me an idiot for having a gorgeous and naked dame on my lap and not doing anything about it."
They both allowed themselves to laugh, grateful for the release of tension. It wasn't the response she had been anticipating, but it was probably more beneficial then the one she was looking for.
The amusement left his eyes and was once again replaced with remorse. "I'm sorry sweetheart," he apologized, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "I haven't seen you months and you show up right when I need you and I don't even think I said hello."
"Shh," Darcy hushed him quickly. "I understand. It's fine."
"No, it's not," he said with a shake of his head. Closing the gap between them he placed a soft kiss against her lips. "I missed you, and I'm so grateful you're here."
Darcy smiled softly, "I missed you too. So much. And I already told you I wouldn't be anywhere else right now. I love you Steve."
"I love you Darcy," he replied earnestly before capturing her mouth with his once more, kissing her in a manner more befitting of reuniting lovers.
It wasn't long before they were out of the tub and tumbling onto the bed in a tangle of damp limbs not caring that they were soaking the sheets since drying off after their bath wasn't on either of their priority lists.
It was different from when they were together last, where their first night together was about tentative explorations, tonight their movements were more primal, there was a desperation about him, to loose himself in her embrace. It was a reaffirmation that they were still living, still breathing, that they could still feel pleasure. And although she had no complaints there was little more that Darcy could do but go along for the ride.
After a vigorous round of grief fueled lovemaking followed by another softer round that was more about reconnection and comfort, Darcy fell asleep quickly, but Steve was not so lucky. Despite being physically, mentally and emotionally wrung, sleep eluded him. He lay in bed and watched her sleep for a while, but soon the impulse to do something refused to be ignored and he gingerly slid out from where Darcy was using his shoulder as her pillow, careful not to disturb her. Idly pacing around the room in search of a distraction, his gaze drifted to the unlit fireplace. It seemed as valid of an activity as any, and without much thought, he took the matches from the mantle and with a practiced hand quickly stoked the fire up to a roaring state.
For the lack of anything else to do, he sat heavily in the wingback chair that sat next to hearth and watched the flames flicker and burn for some indeterminable time. It wasn't until the sound of rustling sheets caught his attention that he tore his gaze away from the fire to glance back towards the bed, but what he saw took his breath away. In his absence, Darcy had rolled onto her side facing towards him, one small hand curled beneath her chin, the other resting low on her belly just above where the white sheet was draped over her hips. Her only adornment was the heart shaped locket, which was resting in the hollow of her throat, the amethysts imbedded within it flashing in the low light. Her still damp curls fell gently over one shoulder obscuring one breast, but leaving the other bare to his gaze. Her long eyelashes were dark against her pale cheeks and her ever so slightly parted lips were still swollen from his earlier attentions. In the flicking firelight her porcelain skin glowed from the inside out and she was a vision of ethereal beauty.
The urge to draw her was too strong to deny and he stealthily moved through the suite, digging through the desk for supplies. Finding a piece of heavy cardstock and a pen amongst the hotel stationary he retuned to his previous position, pleased to find that she hadn't moved while he was gone and began to draw.
Lost in his artist's focus, Steve was unaware of how much time had passed until his drawing was almost done and Darcy beginning to stir pulled him out of his trance. Her arm reached across the bed searchingly, her brow furrowing when it came across nothing but cool sheets and an empty pillow. Her eyes cracked open slightly and quickly zeroed in on him sitting next to the dying fire.
"Sweetheart, come back to bed," she mumbled sleepily.
"One minute," he replied absently, wanting to put the finishing details on the highlights in her hair.
"What are you doing?" she asked, slightly more awake.
"I, umm…" he glanced down at the sketch in front of him and immediately started having second thoughts. He was afraid that she would be upset at him for drawing her in such a vulnerable state. She trusted him, he never wanted to break that and was worried that his drawing her partial nudity could make her feel violated.
Darcy sat up, pulling the blankets up to her chest to ward off the chill of the room that she now felt. Blinking several times to force her eyes to focus she noticed the pen and paper in Steve's hands. "Were you drawing?"
"Yes?" he answered with a slight wince.
"You don't sound too sure of that," she replied with a bemused smile, unsure of where his hesitation was coming from. She had long since convinced him to show her his sketch books, and she had been awed by his talent. "Let me see?"
He cringed as he stood, but he couldn't deny her anything. "I'll burn it if you want," he offered, his eyes darting quickly to the fireplace, "but I saw you in the firelight and I couldn't resist."
Her eyebrow arched with his admission that it was her visage he had been committing to paper, but still didn't understand his uncertainty. He had drawn her before, and she had always been flattered and made sure to tell him so.
Steve watched Darcy's face closely as she took the post card sized picture from him and held it up so she could see it in the firelight. Except for the squinting which was easily attributed to the low light, her expression was inscrutable and it was all he could do to keep from squirming restlessly while he waited for her reaction.
"Is this really how you see me?" she asked softly, her eyes still tracing her form as seen through his eyes and realized through his hands.
Steve just nodded, unsure of what to make of her question.
She brought one hand up and traced the line of his jaw from his temple to his chin. "You make me beautiful."
"You are beautiful."
"I've had my picture taken or been filmed by dozens of men, but none of them see me the way you do. They wait to do their job until I've been primped and prodded and dolled up by dozens of make up artists and wardrobe people; transformed into who they want me to be. Whether that's a character I'm playing, or simply Darcy Lewis, 'America's Sweetheart.' But you see me," she stressed, trying to make him understand how he made her feel. "Even while I'm asleep, completely stripped down of all of that, without any makeup, my hair a total mess and my mouth hanging open, you make me beautiful."
Warmth blossomed in Steve's chest at Darcy's words, it meant more to him then he could ever express that she felt that way since her feelings so closely mirrored his own. Now that Bucky was gone, she was the only person in his world that truly saw him and loved him for that. Unwilling to pick at that wound again tonight before it had a chance to even begin scabbing over, he instead addressed another on of her statements.
"Your mouth was not hanging open. Your lips were parted," he countered. "In a very attractive way."
Even in the dim glow of the dying fire, Steve could see the shift in Darcy's countenance, the mischievous twinkle flashing in her eyes.
"An attractive way," she parroted with a coquettish smirk.
"Mhmm," he hummed, bringing a hand up to run his thumb lightly over her plump bottom lip, more than willing to play her game. "Very sexy."
Her eyes managed to light up with mirth and darken with desire at the same time. "Sexy, huh?"
Steve simply nodded, his own eyes nearly black.
Darcy leaned forward until her lips ghosted against his. "I'll show you sexy."
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Steve was resting with his head on Darcy's bare chest listening to her heartbeat while his fingertips traced random patterns against the skin on her stomach while she ran her fingers through his sweat damped hair. His hand stopped suddenly resting flatly against her belly and Darcy tensed slightly.
"What's wrong?" she asked cautiously.
"I love you."
"I love you too," she responded without hesitation.
Steve propped himself up on one elbow so he was hovering above her slightly, looking her in the eye for what he was about to say next. "Marry me?"
"What?" Darcy asked completely blindsided.
"I love you. Marry me," he repeated. "When this is all over and Hydra is gone and the war is over, let's get married."
"Steve, honey," Darcy started cautiously. "I love you, so much, but you have had a really terrible day. Are you sure-"
"I'm more than sure," Steve interrupted. "I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else but you."
"I love you and I'm not going anywhere. You don't need to propose to guarantee that," she continued gently.
"This has nothing to do with Bucky. This is just me wanting you to be my wife," he replied agitation leaking into his tone.
"Sweetheart, I know you're prone to being impulsive and you've had a streak of that working out for you, but we haven't been together that long. We've only had a few weeks really. I'm still in a contractually obligated relationship with Jimmy Bradford. And the studio…" she trailed off, her mind going in several directions at once. She hadn't told Steve yet, but she already had a meeting scheduled with her agent and publicist to apprise them to the changes in her personal life and was anxious for their reactions. Her star power afforded her some freedoms, but the studio still had so much power over all aspects of her life.
Steve was starting to second guess his spur of the moment proposal. Sure Darcy had mentioned their future together in the abstract, but she had never even hinted at marriage. She was a big movie star and he was just a guy from Brooklyn, even if he was Captain America. Also they did things differently in Hollywood, maybe she didn't even want to get married. But didn't all dames want to get married?
Or maybe it was the way he proposed. He shouldn't have just blurted it out like that. She deserved more that that, she deserved a well thought out and planned proposal. Something she could tell her grandchildren about.
When Steve didn't seem inclined to say anything, Darcy spoke again. "It's just…" she trailed off trying to figure out how to put how she was feeling into words. "I don't want you to feel like you have to ask, just in case. I don't want to come out from the other side of this war only to find you have regrets from rash decisions. Not when you don't have all the information."
"What other information could I need?" Steve questioned impassionedly. "I love you, there is nothing that could make me regret being with you!"
The raw emotion in Steve's eyes brought a lump to Darcy's throat that she had to force down so she could speak. "I'm flying to New York in the morning, but I can be back by the end of the week." She stopped to clear her throat roughly. "You said it yourself, that you're going after Schmidt soon, right?"
Steve nodded, his brow furrowing slightly at her announcement that she was going stateside. She hadn't mentioned the trip before now and he knew she hadn't finished the USO tour, but he mentally brushed it aside to focus on the more pressing matters at hand.
"Well, I'll stay in London until then, and when it's over we'll talk about this again," she said resolutely.
Steve sighed, but relented, he knew Darcy well enough that when she got that stubborn set to her jaw there was no dissuading her from whatever she set her mind on. "If it makes you feel better, once Schmidt is dead, I'll ask you again and do it properly with a ring and everything."
"If it makes you feel better," Darcy parroted with a grin, "after we talk about it and if you still want to marry me, my answer will be yes."
Steve just shook his head slightly, a soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He couldn't imagine anything possibly changing his mind, but if it really made her feel more confident about it, he could ask her again once Hydra was wiped off the map. But in his mind they were already as good as engaged. Valentine's Day was next week, and he pondered the odds him being able to take out Schmidt and procure a suitable ring by then.
Closing the gap between them, Steve planted a soft kiss on her forehead, then on the tip of her nose, and finally against her lips.
Breaking apart with a contented sigh, Darcy opened her eyes and searched Steve's face, seeing the weariness he couldn't hide from her. "Sweetheart, you need to get some sleep."
"I don't think I can," Steve replied softly. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Bucky, his hand reaching out to him for help and then him slipping falling into the icy ravine.
Darcy easily read the look in his eyes; they said the volumes that he couldn't bring himself to verbalize.
"Come here," she ordered him gently.
Taking his hand, she pulled him down so that he was lying down beside her, his head situated on her shoulder. Brushing the hair off his forehead she gently started running her fingers through his hair like she had in the tub. When she felt the tension begin to leave his body, she began to sing.
"Some day he'll come along, the man I love. And he'll be big and strong, the man I love. And when he comes my way, I'll do my best to make him stay"
It was a song from her most recent picture, filmed right before they went on tour. The movie hadn't even been released yet, but thinking back to the last time she sang this song, she couldn't help but feel she was a different person and that was a different lifetime.
"He'll look at me and smile, I'll understand. And in a little while, he'll take my hand. And though it seems absurd, I know we both won't say a word…."
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
The shrill ringing of the phone jolted both of them out of their sleep. A glance toward the window alerted them that the sun hadn't risen yet, which didn't bode well. Pre-dawn phone calls rarely brought good news.
"Hello?" Darcy greeted cautiously, after scrambling for the phone.
"Good morning, Miss Lewis. This is Colonel Phillips, I need to speak to Captain Rogers."
"I… umm… what?" Darcy stammered still half asleep, her brain trying to catch up to what her ears were hearing.
"Rogers," Phillips repeated no-nonsense. "I need to speak to him."
"How did you even know he was here?" she questioned, still not firing on all cylinders.
"Do I seem like a stupid man to you?" was the Colonel's dry response to that. "It's important Miss Lewis, now hand Rogers the phone."
"It's for you," Darcy said with a yawn, handing over the phone to Steve who was looking far more alert than anyone should, considering the time and how little rest they'd gotten.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Darcy tried to wake up enough to decipher Steve's side of the conversation.
"Yes Sir… Already?... Today?!... Yes Sir, right away Sir…. I'll be there in twenty minutes." Steve hung up the phone and jumped out of bed, hurrying into the bathroom to grab his clothes from where they were left the night before.
"Steve, honey, what's going on?" Darcy called after him.
"Colonel Phillips got Schmidt's location and plans from Zola, we're going after him today!" he shouted from the next room.
Now Darcy was awake. She sat on the edge of the bed clutching the blankets to her chest as a terrible wave of foreboding washed over her.
Steve rushed out of the bathroom threading his belt through the loops in his trousers when he looked up to notice Darcy watching him with wide worried eyes. No, it was more than worry, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. "What's wrong?"
"Just-" the words got stuck in her throat. "Just promise me you'll come back."
"I…" Steve trailed off, he didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep, knowing all to well, especially after yesterday that there were no guarantees.
"Lie to me if you have to," she practically begged, her eyes swirling with a wild desperation.
Steve quickly crossed over to the bed and sat down beside her, engulfing her in his strong arms. "I'll come back. We're going to go after Schmidt today and I'll see you when you come back to London at the end of the week," he assured her.
"Promise?" she asked into his chest. She was ashamed of herself for being so needy, when she knew she should be strong, Steve didn't need to worry about her on top of everything else. But even calling on all of her acting abilities, she could barely keep it together over the anxiety that was washing over her.
"Promise," he replied. "In fact," he paused to pull Bucky's knife out of his pocket and put it in the palm of her hand, closing her fingers around the ivory handle. "Bucky'd kill me if I lost it after he was so careful. So why don't you hold onto this for me, and I'll get it back from you when I see you next."
Darcy simply nodded, knowing she wouldn't be able to get any words past the lump in her throat, and watched Steve as he finished dressing so quickly it made her head spin. As soon as his shoes were tied he was back at her side kissing her gently.
"I have to go," he breathed as soon as he pulled away.
"I know," she whispered back.
"You should try to get some more rest," he was stalling and they both knew it. "What time is your flight?"
"Noon." She wasn't even going to pretend that she was going to be able to go back to sleep. "Send me a telegram when you get back to London? Let me know Schmidt's taken care of and everyone is alright?"
"Are you staying at the New Yorker again?"
She nodded as Steve assured her he would do as she asked.
"I have to go," he repeated, standing and checking his pockets that he had everything as he moved towards the door.
Darcy got up to follow him out of the bedroom, the sheet she pulled off the bed to cover herself, trailing behind her.
Steve paused with one hand on the doorknob to look back at Darcy. Standing there wrapped in nothing but a white sheet, Bucky's pocket knife still clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and guileless, she was the image of the little girl lost. It only took two long strides to cover the distance between them and he was kissing her hard.
"I have to go," he said for a third time. "I love you." And he was gone without looking back. He couldn't look back or he wouldn't have the strength to leave her. It was time to go be Captain America.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Darcy never did go back to bed, instead waiting until the sun was fully risen over the horizon before ordering a room service breakfast that she didn't do much more than pick at. Finally giving up on the idea of eating she threw her napkin on the table in disgust, just in time for there to be a knock on the door. A small frown crossed her face since she had no idea who it could possibly be, and she tightened the sash on her robe as she moved across the room to see who was out in the hall.
"Agent Carter?" she greeted, the surprise clear in her tone when she saw who was on the other side of the door. "I would have thought that you would be too busy today to stop by for a visit."
"Good morning, Miss Lewis," Peggy replied, stepping across the threshold, but making no move enter the room further. "You're right I don't have much time." They were rolling out on the hour, but she had needed to pick something up from her flat and decided to stop by the hotel on her way back to base.
"What can I do for you Peggy?" Darcy asked curiously.
"I didn't think anything of it when you called me last night, to ask if Steve was in town or still in the field, since I assumed you got my telegram about Sergeant Barnes. But then I realized there was no way that my telegram could have reached you and then for you to reach London in the time that you had." The way Darcy swallowed visibly told the agent that she was on to something. "On a hunch, I made a phone call to your tour manager and discovered that not only did you book your flight a week ago, but you also cancelled the North African portion of your tour."
"Don't tell Steve," Darcy said pleadingly, her eyes wide.
"What-?"
"I just need you to promise me that you'll have Steve's back," the young actress beseeched. "I know what you're doing today and I need you to make sure he comes back."
"Darcy, what's going on?" Peggy asked her countenance awash with concern for the woman she considered a friend. In all of their interactions and correspondence she was always so confident and positive. And she had a feeling this was much more than just the loss of Sergeant Barnes. Something just wasn't adding up.
"I can't…. I just need him to come back," she repeated, sounding much younger than her twenty two years.
"I need more than that Darcy," Peggy said using the tone she usually saved for new recruits.
Darcy wrung her hands in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety. "How much time do you have?"
"No more than ten minutes," Peggy answered.
The actress sighed seemingly coming to some resolve. "Come in and shut the door. That's enough time for a cup of coffee."
A/N and there we have it! As always I would love to hear what you all think and I want to assure you that chapter 8 will be up in a much more timely manner *cross my heart and hope to die* also if you'd like to see pictures of everyone's Christmas gift and also for some really awesome story art by lady-cheeky who you can totally thank for lighting a fire under my butt and getting me writing again with her awesome manip which got me excited about writing this story again, just follow the links from the author page to my tumblr!