AN: Some misogynistic language and references to domestic abuse concerning Chesterson in this chapter. Cluck 'N' Bucket may very well be a restaurant; I just wanted a ridiculous generic name. Darcy and Bucky quote Star Wars a few times (ok, a lot). 5-0 (or five oh) is shorthand for the police, in case you didn't know. Also, I know nothing about official police procedures. I went for drama, not accuracy.

And If I Call for You

Part Seven

By: Wynn

The mall looms before them, a wasteland of teenage loiters and vapid commercialism that Bucky attempts to avoid at all costs. Yet here he is, shoulder holster on, nudging out the kickstand of his bike so that he and Darcy can go inside and catch Chesterson before everything, inevitably, went to shit.

Darcy hops down to the ground, doffs her helmet, and shakes out her hair. Bucky allows himself one look, her dark curls gleaming in the midmorning sun, her lips maroon, a deeper red than the cherry she wore the day before, his gaze safely hidden by his helmet, then he, too, steps from the bike, easing off his helmet to wait for the plan.

"Okay," Darcy says once he's lounging against the bike, one hand holding his helmet on the seat. "Shasta works in the food court, at the Cluck 'N' Bucket. So he's gonna be there, trying to live out his sad, little Clyde Barrow dreams. I'll come from the side of Macy, you come from the side of—"

Bucky starts shaking his head. "No. We're not splitting up."

Her lips flatten at his dissent, but she smoothes it away after a moment to say, "We have to. He's gonna run. That's what he does. He's done it to me three times already. And he's fast, man. Like, deceptively fast for a dumbass. We won't catch him if we're on the same side."

"I'll catch him."

Darcy works her jaw to the side. Bucky knows that he's pushing, but he lets himself push, the bruise on her face still visible despite the makeup she wears. She turns her head away, perhaps hiding the bruise, or maybe just looking for witnesses before she beaned him with her helmet. He watches her draw in a breath then she says slowly, "You said you would help me."

"And I'm trying to. Not giving him the opportunity to hurt you again is the best kind of help I can think of."

"He's not going to hurt me!" she says, looking back at him. "He's going to be running away, and running toward you, not me."

"That's if he runs. And that's if he's still in the food court too and not wandering the mall where he can find you alone."

"He's going to be at the food court. Shasta said she'd keep him there until we arrived."

"Oh," Bucky says, raising his brows. "Shasta said?"

This earns him a glare. Bucky holds up a conciliatory hand before Darcy can yell or, worse, walk away, yet the concession does little to soften her anger. He draws the hand back through his hair and pulls in a deep breath before attempting to explain.

"You've found him three times already and found him here just yesterday. And he might be a dumbass like you say he is, but even he's got to know that you'll find him again, especially after he vandalized your car. And because of that and because he tried to run you over and because he punched you in the face and shoved you out of a window, he's got to know that you'll be pissed, so he'll likely be prepared."

The glare fades, but Darcy doesn't back down. "He can't carry a baseball bat in the mall."

"No. But he might have a knife or a gun."

"Which is why you're here."

"I know. So let me be."

Darcy tilts her chin up, and with it, the impasse arises between them again. The impulse to push prods at Bucky, fueled by the memory of her trembling the night before, caught in the grip of her night terror. She walked away the last time that he pushed, when he protested her working for Barton again, but not pushing the day before allowed Chesterson to find her, to fight her, to frighten her to the point where she deigned to return to him.

Bucky draws in a slow breath. Darcy eyes him, wary, as he tries to explain. "I can't walk away. I called off the APB yesterday, and if I hadn't, he might not have had the chance to hurt you. So I can't. Not again."

"Bucky—"

"Just let me walk with you to the food court and get the lay of it, then I'll follow the plan, cross to the other side and keep him from leaving. I promise."

Darcy lets out a soft sigh. "Look, I get it. I do. And I'm not trying to play superhero here. I'd say the two of us are about even in how little we want Chesterson to hurt me again. But the plan can only work if he doesn't know you're there."

Bucky frowns at her. "How would he know?"

"He'd see you walking. You kind of stand out, dude."

He tilts his head at her now. "And whose fault is that? 'You must badass to the most badass of all badass proportions.'" Darcy gives him a look for the sass, but he continues before she can speak, unwilling to concede the point. "And I thought you wanted him to see me so he'd pee his pants in fear."

"I did. But at the opportune moment. Which is not from halfway across the food court, but when he rounds the corner in his panicked flight, bounces off you like a quarter off your ass, and then face-plants onto the floor after I taze him in his ass."

Bucky stares at her a moment before raising both his brows. "Like a quarter off my ass?"

A faint blush stains her cheeks. "What? It's an apt analogy."

"Is it now? And how exactly would you know that?" He cocks a brow at her, unable to stop the smirk as her blush intensifies. "Been looking at my ass lately?"

Darcy narrows her eyes at him. "Isn't that what I should be asking you? Exactly how long were you standing in the alley getting the 'lay of the land' before you said something to me?"

Bucky resists the urge to squirm at being caught. Instead, he holds her gaze and plows full speed ahead, dangerous curves notwithstanding. "Not long enough."

Darcy shakes her head and sighs, but Bucky spots the smile that tugs at her mouth and he blames this for his final push, the hint of a smile and the gleam in her eyes, the way she pressed against him on the bike and the breakfast that morning and the conversation the night before and the way her hand floated across the banister as she walked up the stairs, 'I never have' ringing in his ears.

"You asked me to help you," he says quietly, pushing off the bike to stand before her. "You said that you needed help. So let me help you. What's the point of bringing me along if you can't use my skills? And I mean all my skills, not just my ass in tight pants."

He sends her a small smile, which earns him one of her own. Bucky watches her contemplate his request. She peers at the mall, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. A few seconds pass then she blows out a loud breath and looks back to him. "Fine. You can get the lay of the land. But bounty hunting ain't like dusting crops, boy, so after that, you follow my lead."

She turns for the mall then, but Bucky doesn't follow. Instead, he gapes. Then he gawks. Then he sputters out, "No. No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not."

Darcy stops. He hears her sigh from ten feet away, catches a glimpse of her frown as she lowers and shakes her head. "Bucky—"

"Han."

She looks at him over her shoulder, still frowning. "What?"

"Han," he says again. "If anyone's Han Solo here, it's me."

Darcy stares at him for a few seconds like she stared at the mall, her lips pursed and her brow creased, then she swivels around, props a hand on her hip, and blurts out, "Bullshit."

"It's true," he says, sauntering forward, his helmet in hand. "I've got the charm, the cool ride…"

Her eyes flit up to his hair. "Well, you're certainly scruffy looking, all right."

Bucky grins at that. "Thank you."

"But," she says, falling into step beside him as they head for the entrance, "that doesn't mean that you're Han. I'm Han, gender be damned. You," she pauses then to cock an expectant brow, "are someone else."

"I will leave you here if you say Jar Jar."

This earns him a grin. "Not Jar Jar."

"Then who?"

Darcy reaches the entrance and pulls open the door, waving Bucky through with a flourish of her helmeted hand. She waits until he passes through, until she's stepped up behind him in the crisp recycled air to lean in close and say, "You're the Princess."

"What?!"

"Yep." She draws even with him, grinning, gleeful. "Princess Bucky Barnes."

Bucky narrows his eyes at her. "Maybe I will leave you here."

"No, you won't," she says as she starts forward.

"And why not?"

"Because you're the Princess, dude. You don't leave."

He doesn't leave, but he doesn't move either, the sliver of sincerity within her words pinning him momentarily to the spot. He forces himself forward as she peers back at him, trying his best to maintain their light tone as he says, "Gonna need a little more than 'not leaving' to buy what you're trying to sell here, sweetheart."

Darcy waits for him to catch up with her before she begins. "Han… He's selfish. A fuck-up. He gets himself in deep with Jabba then leaves the Rebels high and dry to go save his own ass. And the only person who thinks his ride is cool is him, which is, like, the perfect metaphor for his life because half the time the Falcon doesn't even work, and when it does, it's only because someone like R2 or Chewie comes along to fix it. But Leia…" She catches his eye again as they round the corner for the mall. "She's the one who's got her shit together, even though she's got plenty of reasons to fall apart. I mean, her whole planet gets blown up in front of her, she gets tortured, by her dad no less, an entire evil Empire wants to murder her, yet she picks herself right back up and kicks all kinds of ass, killing Jabba and getting the Death Star plans and even, you know, rescuing Han." Darcy directs them toward the escalator, casting him another glance as she does. "Embrace your destiny, young Jedi. You're the Princess." She grins at him again, but Bucky sees the strain behind the effort, the dash of solemnity that shadows her gaze.

They step onto the escalator, Darcy ahead of Bucky. She tilts her face in the direction of the food court, scoping out the scene that he demanded to investigate, but Bucky doesn't follow her lead. Instead, he watches her, debating the wisdom of his instinctive response to her comparison. He restrained himself before in her apartment, limiting himself to a simple confirmation of his belief that Natasha would want to hire her. He hadn't wanted to push. But Darcy had cracked open the door with the analogy, she'd lighted the path, so he once more takes his first step down, climbing onto the step beside her.

"Han may have been a fuck up," he says when she meets his eyes, "but he was a good man. He came back and helped them save the day. And he got tortured too, and he picked himself back up and fought on. And, yeah, he needed to be rescued, but Luke, Leia, and the rest of them, they did it because Han had already helped them and they cared about him, not because he was weak."

They reach the top of the escalator. Bucky holds her gaze as they step off, as he moves them to the side to say, "The Princess did have her shit together. You're right about that. So she wasn't someone who'd just toss everything away on a dud, whether that be a man or a ship. She saw who Han could be if only he believed that he could. So she loves him for a reason."

Darcy stares at him, wide-eyed. People filter past, the mall beginning to hum with late morning activity, but the world beyond the two of them recedes for Bucky, reduced to him and her and to her reaction to his revelation, to his deliberate blur of fiction and reality, of the past tense for the present. A more oblique confession than his first, a soft admission toward the start of his senior year, the two of them standing on her front porch after dinner with his folks. He'd wanted to say it earlier, first four months in, then six, then eight, but he didn't, Darcy cynical about love, still smarting from the blow up between her and her dad. She stared at him then as she stares now, in shock at the concept, at its reality, at the idea of someone loving her, or perhaps now at the idea of that someone still being him. Then, three seconds later, the seconds as hours, as years to Bucky, beginning to sweat on the hot September night, though less from the heat and more from the dawning possibility of her rejection, of what Connie Falcone must have felt when she said it to him the summer before their sophomore year and all he could do was stare until she turned and walked away, then Darcy's hand clamped down onto his and she blurted out, 'Good. I mean, yes. I mean, I do too. Love you, that is.'

Now Darcy blinks at him, and three seconds becomes five becomes seven becomes ten, and he thinks that maybe he should have waited, Darcy even more cynical about love now, still smarting from their many break ups. The thought solidifies a second later when her eyes narrow, when her gaze intensifies upon him, when ten seconds becomes twelve becomes fifteen, when still she stares, but then Darcy straightens her shoulders and says, moving in so close to him that their helmets bump, "This… right here… This will be continued. After we catch this asshole. So come on," she continues, easing around him, her eyes bright and her lips curving into a saucy little grin that makes his head spin. "Let's blow this thing so we can all go home."

They stop at the edge of the food court to get his desired lay of the land. Bucky angles his body toward Darcy, placing her firmly between him and the wall. She notices the placement and rolls her eyes, giving him a swift poke in the side as she does, but she doesn't move or make him move, which prompts him to send up a silent prayer to whatever gods of love and bounty hunting that may be observing the scene.

The imminence of lunch brings a crowd to the court, the chairs and tables nearly half full. Bucky scans the neon signs, spotting the Cluck 'N' Bucket right in the middle of the arc of restaurants. He finds Chesterson at a nearby table with an unhappy Shasta, whose gaze, as Bucky looks, darts to the other entrance to the food court. She jumps a second later and her eyes snap back toward Chesterson. The fear that flits across her face at whatever he says makes Bucky's blood boil.

"How about we forget the plan," he mutters to Darcy, "and I just go over there and beat the shit out of him?"

"Works for me. However, let's try to beat him to a tiny pulp without getting you suspended at the same time."

Bucky turns to her, smiling. "Look at you. Trying to be all mature and shit."

One corner of her mouth curves into a grin. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd try it out. Got a Princess to impress, you know."

His smile widens. He may or may not feel warm and fuzzy inside. "Do you now?"

Darcy glances at him then and rolls her eyes at the likely dopey expression on his face. "Oh my god," she mutters, but the smile on her face belies her consternation, "you are such a sap."

Bucky starts to back away, still grinning. "You love it." He continues before the seriousness of the 'L' word can depress their banter. "Now, you'll wait—"

"Until you're in position, yes. Now go," she says, shooing a hand at him. "Position. Prepare for one hundred and fifty pounds of domestic abusing asshole to make a bee-line for your bad ass."

"You know the sweetest things to say to a man."

With that, he turns and begins to cross the food court. Bucky swings out wide, hugging the rail that overlooks the first floor, keeping to a casual mall stroll. The amount of bystanders makes him nervous, it increased the possibility of this going wrong, of someone getting hurt, but letting Chesterson roam free any longer unsettled Bucky even more, and now for Shasta's safety as well as for Darcy's. As he passes by an ice cream stand, he chances a glance over. Chesterson still sits at the table, focused entirely on Shasta, bent over in his appeal to her to run away with him. She points with a shaking hand back at the Cluck 'N' Bucket and starts to stand, but Chesterson grabs her arm and pulls her back down to the table. Bucky nearly breaks from the plan as she winces, but deviating now would increase the instability of an already tremulous plan, so he increases his speed instead to get to the other side and get this show on the road.

There, he sets up next to a cupcake shop, placing his helmet down by his feet to leave his hands free for fighting. Peering back across the court, he locks eyes with Darcy, who starts forward at the same casual stroll he had before. Shasta zeroes in on Darcy as soon as she steps around the corner, and her relief is visible even from this far in the way she slumps back against the chair. Of course, Chesterson sees it too and glances back over his shoulder, frowning, and when he too sees Darcy, all hell breaks loose.

"You bitch!" he bellows, lunging for Shasta. Bucky reaches for his gun in his shoulder holster as the table overturns and Chesterson grabs her by the hair. His heart skips a beat as Darcy charges across the food court towards them. Patrons scatter, some screaming, at the brewing fight, and for a few seconds, Bucky can't see what's happening, his vision blocked by those fleeing. When he can again, his heart stops altogether, Darcy frozen about twenty feet from Chesterson and a sobbing Shasta, her hands in the air and her eyes on the gun that Chesterson points at her with a shaking hand.

"You just stop the fuck right there," he shrieks at Darcy. He tightens his hold on Shasta's hair and forces her down onto her knees. Bucky can't see the expression of pain, both Chesterson and Shasta facing away from him, but he hears her cry echo across the food court. "I will blow both you and her away if you take another goddamn step."

Heart pounding, Bucky grabs his phone from his jacket pocket. He hits one on speed dial. Two rings in, Steve answers.

"What's up, Buck? Has Darcy got you—"

"We're at the mall. North-side food court. Chesterson's got a gun and two hostages."

There's a tense moment of silence before Steve says, "Darcy?"

"One of the two."

Another beat of silence as they both consider the implications of his revelation, of what could happen to Darcy if this standoff went sour, of what Bucky might do if it did, and then Steve says, his voice low and steady, "Peggy's calling for back up. They'll be there in ten. Stay calm."

"Will do."

They hang up. As Bucky stuffs his phone back into his pocket, he sees mall security approach. He locks eyes with the one closest to him, a young man named Floyd that he recognizes from a few of his community college classes. Floyd gives a curt nod at Bucky, recognizing him too. Bucky motions to himself then to the food court. Floyd nods and reaches for his radio, informing the other guards of the presence of a cop, then Bucky disengages the safety of his gun and steps forward.

"I trusted you," Chesterson says now to Shasta. He wrenches her back, and she cries out again, nearly falling to the ground. "I loved you, and you called this bitch on me."

Darcy shakes her head as Bucky creeps toward them. "She didn't."

"Bullshit."

"Nope. You're just that predictable, coming back to where you were yesterday."

Chesterson looks down at Shasta, forcing her head back until she peers up at him. "You called her yesterday, too?"

"She didn't," Darcy says again. She keeps her eyes on Chesterson, not on Bucky, who weaves between the overturned chairs and tables, his gun up and waiting for a shot.

"No?" Chesterson asks, looking back at her. "Then how'd you find me?"

"I didn't. I'm more… stumbled upon you." Darcy points to dessert shop behind her. "I was upset after losing you again, so I came for a Tasty Shake. You just happened to be here too."

Chesterson stares at her. His arm drops a fraction, his will beginning to waver in the fact Darcy's revelation. Bucky sights him, waiting for him to shift the gun away from Darcy completely.

"I'm not going in."

Darcy nods. "That's fine by me. I don't really care. Your bond's not worth that much money. I just thought I'd take one last shot at it while I could."

Chesterson stares at her another moment, silent. Then he says, "What does that mean?"

"It means the 5-0's looking for you, dude. They're probably on their way here now. You know one of the screaming banshees called them when they ran." The pause is near infinitesimal, but still a pause, still a sign of her fear at her manipulation being detected. "If you leave now, you might have a chance to escape before they get here."

Chesterson says nothing, but he must look past her at the security guards on the other side for she continues softly, "Security's not going to stop you. Last thing they want is a shoot out."

Chesterson hesitates. He looks down at Shasta then back up at Darcy. Bucky breathes in, his gun steady, and waits; he waits for Chesteron to lower his gun and to turn to run. Chesterson looks at Shasta again. Seconds pass, and Darcy looks past Chesterson to Bucky, but Bucky keeps his gaze fixed on the wavering man before him, on the gun still in his hand. Another few seconds slide by then Chesterson abruptly shoves Shasta away. Sobbing, she starts to crawl toward Darcy. Bucky takes a step forward. Chesterson turns. His eyes widen when he spots Bucky, and he freezes.

"Police," Bucky says, his voice snapping with anger. "Drop the gun and get on your knees. Right now."

Chesterson gapes at him a moment then his face twists dark and ugly. "You lying bitch!"

His scream of rage echoes throughout the food court. He starts to turn, starts to lift the gun again toward Darcy, but Bucky shoots before he gets even halfway back around. Chesterson crumples, the bullet striking him in the right thigh. His gun flies from his hand as he falls, as Bucky rushes forward, aiming for his head.

"Move," he says, "and the next one goes in your head."

Chesterson ignores him, too busy groaning on the ground. Bucky kicks his gun away, out of his reach, then he kicks Chesterson onto his stomach, shoving a knee against the small of his back to keep him in place. The security guards close in then, a few going to Shasta to help her to her feet, one to watch Chesterson as Bucky reaches for his cuffs, and another, Floyd, over to the gun, which he lifts with one napkin covered hand.

Bucky swaps his gun for his cuffs, clamping them down tight onto a whimpering Chesterson. As he stands, he casts a quick look at Floyd. "Call for an ambulance."

Floyd nods. He hands Bucky Chesterson's gun then pulls his cell from his pocket. As he does, Bucky turns toward Darcy. She's pale and more than a little shaken now that the adrenaline from the confrontation is starting to wane, but her gaze is clear and, when they lock eyes, a wavering smile appears on her face.

"See," she murmurs, looking at him. "Totally according to plan."

AN: One more part to go. Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to leave some feedback. The comments make my day! :D