Just a warning: I betaed this particular chapter mostly myself, so there are still probably a lot of errors. But I was impatient to get it out, because I'm half through the next bit.
Once Clint and Natasha were gone, Darcy took the lead. She tugged Bucky's hand and pulled him back to her apartment, back to her bedroom. A teeny, tiny part of her mused that she might want to one day drag him to her bedroom under completely different circumstances.
But now wasn't the time for that.
"We have to get rid of that," she said staring at the computer. "Don't we?"
Bucky shook his head. "No, we need to wait for Clint to get closer to wherever the Samaritan is, get him or her to safety, then play the message through. I'm guessing it will set off some sort of signal to a Hydra operative that the message is received and the Samaritan is no longer useful. Then, they'll want to terminate the person who has been double crossing them.
"I'm guessing the kind of terminate you mean doesn't include well wishes and a severance package," Darcy quipped.
She gave Bucky a quick once over, trying to get a read on him. Moments before, he'd been crumbling into emotional, soggy pieces in her lap—she didn't judge him for that at all. In the blink of an eye, he'd spurned into action and rushed to warn Clint about the danger surrounding the Samaritan, all determined and calm, without even a hint to the fact that he'd been a wreck just before. She admired him for that. Depending on how things went down, his quick thinking probably saved the hacker who'd been helping S.H.I.E.L.D.
Standing in her room, he looked keyed up and primed for action. There was a restlessness in the twitch of his muscles. Even though he was wearing comfy clothes-baseball t-shirt and sweats-Darcy thought he looked just as ready for action as Natasha had in her Black Widow gear.
"Out of curiosity," she pondered. "What was your final mission? What was the face on the video telling you to do?"
As a result of a little snooping, Darcy learned that Bucky's original mission against S.H.I.E.L.D. was to assassinate Nick Fury. It was how he'd crossed paths with Steve and Natasha in the first place. She wasn't sure what happened with that, but she did know that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director had been missing for almost a year.
"Kill Steve," he answered. "My final mission was to kill Captain America."
Darcy couldn't help the way her eyes widened, but she schooled her reaction before Bucky saw it. "Feeling any murderous thoughts at the moment? Need me to say the magic words?"
"I'm good. But it's probably not a good idea for me to watch that video again, just in case."
"Don't worry, dude. I'm all over it. Then I'm probably going to burn that flash drive and my laptop knowing that Hydra grossness has infected it." Her shoulders shook, and she made an exaggerated shivering sound. Bucky studied her with a confused look. "What?"
"I keep waiting for you to—"
"Scream and run away?"
"Yeah." He exhaled, running the hand not holding Darcy's—his flesh hand-behind his neck.
"Not my style," she replied simply. "I've seen a lot of shit, I've only told you the half of it when it comes to aliens and dark elves and magic powers. Also, I'm pretty sure all the stuff I'm researching on daily in the lab is in some kind of preparation for a possible Armageddon, so I try not to think about that too much. So yeah, running away, not my style."
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head, and let go of her hand, his fingers flexing at his side.
"You're just as bad as Steve."
"Speaking of the Cap…should we go tell him about the super secret Hydra message of death?"
"Nah, there's not much he can do about it now. He'll just get worked up. It can wait until morning."
She looked over at the digital clock on her night stand. "Morning isn't that far away."
"Then it can wait a couple of hours."
It seemed like a flimsy excuse to Darcy, but she let it slide. For whatever reason he wasn't in a hurry to rush to the Avengers de-facto leader and she wasn't ready to let Bucky out of her sight. The restless tension lingered and she wanted to be there in case he went off again. Also, she was scared, too. She hated what she saw of Bucky's past, not because she saw it, but because of what was done and how utterly unfair it all was. She was also worried for Clint and Natasha and whoever the Samaritan turned out to be. She didn't want that person to die because they'd risked their life to help The Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D.
Feeling bold, Darcy reached over and wrapped her arms around Bucky's waist.
"What are you doing?"
His arms jerked out of the way and up into the space around them, careful not to touch her.
"Invading your personal space," she answered, undeterred. "I'm giving you a hug. Because you look like you need one and I sure as hell need one."
Five more seconds ticked by before Bucky relaxed and wrapped his arms around her in return. Darcy nuzzled her nose into his chest, taking comfort in his spring-fresh soap smell, left over from his shower.
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Neither of them slept. Bucky stayed in Darcy's apartment after she played video message from Hydra to its end and whatever trigger was on it had been pulled. She put on a headphones and he hovered just outside her bedroom door. Darcy, true to her word, destroyed the laptop as soon as the task was finished.
He suggested a movie, hoping she would fall asleep to it. Bucky recalled her dozing during their frequent movie nights when they first started hanging out together and her mentioning that sleeping with the television on was a habitual thing for her. She mentioned her favorite Disney cartoon-wanting something cheery-to Jarvis and the AI brought it to her television screen.
Unfortunately, she stayed awake through the whole damn thing, eyeing his phone on the coffee table every five minutes, eager and hopeful for word from Barton or Romanoff. He swore she didn't even blink while the brunette on screen sung about books and dreams of a better life.
Bucky knew he would need to report to Steve soon. The revelation of the message meant there were bigger things to consider. The excuse about Steve needing a reprieve from every emergency was true, but mostly a stall. Bucky felt keyed up, anxious, and a little unstable. Not that the message got through to him. He'd cut the strings that Hydra used to control him. Seeing his past sins, feeling the emotions of it all, stirred the guilt he felt as Bucky Barnes and the confusion of the man he was now. Everything collided in an infinite tangle of remorse, sadness, regret, and rage and for a moment it was too much. For a moment he collapsed under it all.
There was something about being around Darcy that calmed him. The warmth of her lap, her vanilla scent, her hands brushing over his head, soothed him. It gave him something to hold on to in the present. He decided to roll with it, using her nearness as an anchor, letting himself breathe again.
Dawn slipped by them and Darcy headed to the lab, dead on her feet, dark circles under her eyes.
"Shouldn't we have heard from them by now?" she questioned as they strolled the hallway to the lab.
"Not necessarily," he answered. "I'll let you know the moment I hear from Barton or Romanoff."
Darcy accepted his answer with a nod and turned to go into the lab. "Hang on," she spun back to him and grabbed his arm, "Clint and Natasha. Is that a thing? We totally walked in on them—" He rolled his lips back to hide his amusement at the mischief on her face. "It's totally a thing isn't it?"
"Doll, believe it or not, I don't pay much attention to other people's love lives," Darcy made a face, urging him for any sort of information he could reveal. "Spies don't tend to let others know who or what they care about. Feelings are played a little closer to the vest."
"In the missions you've been on together he's never alluded to anything with Natasha? Come on! Gossip with me!"
Bucky was already walking away, almost to the elevator. He turned back to face her, still walking, and offered her a genuine grin. "Gossip later, science now."
He laughed when she muttered "you're no fun" loud enough for him to hear over the elevator ding.
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Steve hated treadmills. He'd been running in the same place for almost an hour, barely breaking a sweat under Stark Tower's state of the art, temp controlled gym. Because he was the only person there, Jarvis was program to keep the temperatures adjusting to his body's needs.
It was one thing he missed about Washington; running around the National Mall, the green grass, wide-open space. Sure, he was a city boy, born and bred, but the idea of city had changed since his time. He could barely leave the tower without someone recognizing him and drawing attention.
His trainers pounded the black belt rolling under his feet. Miles and miles and he was getting nowhere.
The door to the gym opened and he spotted Bucky walking in toward him. He pushed a button on the treadmill and slowed it to a stop. A few nerves flared, recalling their discussion the night before that hadn't ended all that well.
Steve pushed, he knew he pushed, only wanting what was best.
Bucky stopped next to the machine, nodding up at him.
"I was gonna come check on you—" he started and stopped himself, trying to sound less like a mother hen. "Did you open it?"
There was no need to specify what "it" was.
"Yeah," Bucky replied, looking away. " I changed my mind."
"Good," Steve said. "I mean—"
"That's not what I came here for." His friend's eyes flashed up to him and Steve was struck by the serious set of his brow. He'd expected some sort of aftermath from viewing the contents of the past. Bucky seemed-well, he seemed like the same guy he'd been for the past few weeks, the same sort of darkness surround him, but in his face some sort of determination driving him forward. "There was a message for me on that flash drive, something new, something from Hydra. An order to finish my final mission."
Steve tensed. He couldn't help it and he hated himself because of it. He knew Bucky's final mission was to kill him. For a moment he wondered if all their months of progress had been wiped away.
But Bucky cracked a grin, one side of his face lifting. "Relax, punk, I'm not here to kill you."
Steve rolled his eyes and hopped off the treadmill, grabbing the white towel that was slung over the side. "If Hydra is sending you a message, then that means—"
"That they knew I would get that flash drive? Yes."
"The Samaritan was a Hydra agent the whole time?"
"No, I don't think so. Barton is connected to him or her in some way, has been for a long time, I think that rules out the possibly we were being double crossed. But it does mean that Hydra has known about the Samaritan for some time."
Steve's brain clicked into action and he darted in the direction of the door. "We need to alert Barton. Jarvis, do you have a twenty on Agent Barton?"
Before the AI could provide a location, Bucky grabbed Steve, stopping him in his tracks.
"I already talked to Barton. He and Romanoff kicked outta here before dawn to go on a rescue. I'm still waiting for one of them to report back."
"Why didn't you alert me?"
"You need a break from dealing with other people's problems, Stevie. I took care of it."
Steve took a deep breath, realizing that Bucky was speaking to him as a friend, not a sergeant to his captain. There was genuine concern on his face. Steve didn't feel relief though, instead he felt guilt. Bucky shouldn't be worried about him, it was his turn for Steve to look out for him, not the other way around. "It's not like that."
"I know," Bucky replied. "But still, you don't have to shoulder everything. Some of us can take our turns carrying the load."
There was a small, reassuring smile playing around the edges of Bucky's face. A brightness in his eyes that Steve hadn't seen since…well, since that night in the bar back during the war. Back when Bucky promised to follow him into battle. Not Captain America, but Steve Rogers.
He knew Bucky was also trying to tell him that he was okay. That he could deal with things, that he didn't need Captain America or Steve Rogers mothering him at every turn. But it still didn't make Steve feel any better about not being able to focus his attention more on his healing friend.
Steve grabbed his things and invited Bucky up for some breakfast, Bucky agreed, as long as he was allowed to cook. The elevator zipped them up to Bucky's floor and they ambled down the hallway to Bucky's apartment.
"So, just playing the waiting game until you hear from one of them?" Steve inquired.
"Yep."
The apartment was still sparse, still neat as a pin, the curtains around the large glass windows half drawn. Steve noticed a polaroid camera on the edge of the coffee table, a stack of photos next to it, sparking his interest. He wondered where-
"Catch." Bucky called out a second before he was tossing a bottle of water in Steve's direction. He caught it, curiosity about the camera and photos forgotten as he slid into the counter stool to wait as Bucky prepared food.
"Any idea where they went?"
"Not a clue," he replied.
It didn't surprise Steve. Clint wasn't that different from Natasha in terms of secret keeping. He expunged even less than she did at times, always answering questions with questions or covering with sarcastic remarks.
The whole situation had all of his instincts on alert. Hydra's silence and Natasha's remarks the day before about Hydra using the Samaritan to possibly manipulate them. She'd been right and she hadn't even realized it. Steve wondered and worried how long Hydra might have known about their mole. How long would Hydra have been feeding information to the go-between in effort to throw them off.
He ground his jaw as he sat at the counter while Bucky made breakfast. Was there anything he could trust?
"There is one other thing," Bucky said, breaking him out of his spinning thoughts. His friend raised his metal arm and twisted it back and forth, the plates gleaming in the sunshine that burst through the windows. "I ripped out all the trackers that Hydra implanted in me, but I've gotta be honest. I'm not sure what might be in here or if anything can be controlled remotely."
Steve saw the remorse in Bucky's face. He'd put them in potential danger, not knowing the full capability of his cybernetic limb.
"I didn't think about it either," Steve admitted. "Stark can take a look. He's inbound tomorrow for some UN conference this weekend, but he said something about coming in early to surprise Miss Lewis."
"Darcy?"
Bucky sounded surprised and Steve didn't blame him. Tony wasn't known for having many friends and he wouldn't have pictured a scenario in which Dr. Foster's assistant and Tony Stark would have spent any time together.
Steve shrugged. "I guess they're friends." Bucky nodded and focused his attention on the stove again. "By the way, when did you learn to cook?"
"I….learned," he stammered, "From…someone…hey—there is one more thing."
"Another thing?"
Bucky's features went dark and Steve watched a wall go up right in front of him. "There was something on the file…about Stark's parents…and me."
Steve remembered reading about the accident that had killed Howard Stark and his wife, Maria, a tragic loss to the scientific community and to the world. He looked up at Bucky, fully realizing what his friend was getting at.
"Do you remember them?"
"No," he bit out. "But the evidence says it all."
Steve nodded. He didn't want to tell Bucky it was okay. It was far from it and he didn't want to lie. "Tony can't ever find out. He and his father…they weren't close but…"
"It's still his parents," Bucky finished. "I can't imagine he'd want to be teammates with the guy responsible for killing them-"
"He doesn't need to know," Steve said, a finality in his tone that shut down any further argument on the subject.
Breakfast was ready and they sat in silence as they ate, the laundry list of things to worry about tumbling over and over inside of Steve's head.
Bucky's cell buzzed on the table and he swiped it up, putting it on speaker. "Barton."
"It's Romanoff."
The two super soldiers looked up from the phone at one another.
"Natasha, where's Barton? Is everything okay?" Steve asked.
"Everything's fine. We got the Samaritan out. We're going to a safe house. Barton's going to stay for a while, I'll be back tonight."
"What happened—what did you find?"
"Later Rogers," she responded. "Now's not the time."
Steve didn't appreciate the way Natasha shut him down, but dealt with it. He heard shuffling on the line and the sound of Barton's voice.
"Hey Barnes?"
"I'm here," Bucky answered.
"I owe you one. Lewis, too. The both of you saved a life tonight."
Bucky stared down at the phone. "Don't mention it.
"I'm serious," Clint urged. "I won't forget this."
Bucky nodded, which didn't help much considering it was a phone conversation. The call disconnected and Bucky slid from his stool, slipping his phone into his pocket, and grabbing a mug from his cabinet. He turned to the coffee pot, filling up the mug, and tossing in sugar and a couple other spices that Steve didn't catch.
"What are you doing?"
"I gotta go take care of something," he replied, spinning a top onto the travel mug. "Mind cleaning up?"
Bucky didn't give him much of a chance to answer, or to tell him he did well, before he was rushing out the door, leaving a bewildered Steve behind with the rest of his breakfast.
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Darcy was alone in the lab that day. Jane had an interview scheduled, thanks to her recent brush with death and the questions of her work. She didn't normally like doing interviews or being in the spotlight and avoided discussing any ongoing research with the press, but the backlash after the attacks had left her reeling and she wanted to set her reputation straight. After finally gaining some respect in the scientific community, she didn't want to let it go.
Darcy didn't feel like accompanying her to the interview. It would be a coffee date with some journalist, Darcy would be ignored and she would probably be stuck paying for her own scones while the her company went back and forth on subjects she didn't altogether understand. That, and nodding off every ten seconds probably wouldn't help Jane look very good.
Working without her laptop proved to be difficult. How did people survive before the Internet and computers? How did anything get done?
Without a computer or a scientist around to supervise, she curled up on the couch inside Jane's office to dive into a book on Norse Mythology. She went at it analog style, with different colored highlighters in hand, her very specific color-coded research system coming into play, perfected in freshman year lecture halls.
At some point she must have passed out, because the next thing she heard was the sound of computer keys clicking. The book she'd been reading had been pulled from where it must have collapsed on her stomach and set on the floor, replaced with the violet afghan that lived on the back of the sofa. Her highlighters were sitting on top of the large tome, placed neatly back into their box.
"Jane?" Darcy called out. She didn't expect her back so soon. Maybe the interview had gone badly.
"Hey."
Instead of finding Jane, she found Bucky, perched at her lab table clicking away at what looked like a brand new Macbook.
"Sleeping on the job?" he teased.
"Just a little cat nap," she said stretching her arms out to relieve the kinks in her shoulders.
A chuckled slipped from Bucky's throat. "A cat nap that lasts three hours?"
"Wha—" Darcy ran back to the couch and dug her phone from between the cushions, noticing that it was way past lunchtime.
Bucky was smirking at her when she came back out to the lab. "I came by earlier with coffee, but you were passed out."
"I'm exhausted. Did you sleep yet?"
"I took care of a couple things before I came back to check on you."
Darcy rolled her eyes, still not awake enough to complain that he should have gotten some sleep himself. Her stomach rumbled and she rubbed her palm across her belly.
"I'm starving."
Bucky nodded his head toward the kitchenette. "Sandwiches in the fridge."
"You're a lifesaver," she sighed, skipping into the kitchenette and pulling out a giant meatball sub with her name on it. Guessing that no sleep for Bucky also meant no food for Bucky, she cut it in half and separated the giant sandwich onto two plates, setting one down beside him on the table and taking the stool next to his.
"What's this?" she asked around a bite of marinara and bread, pointing to the fancy computer.
"Your new laptop."
"Shut up." She blinked at his blank expression, mouth hanging open in surprise. "You're serious?"
He pushed the computer to her and held out a hand, offering for her to take it.
Darcy slid it closer and started to click around, seeing all of her backed up files from the old laptop, all of her photos, even all of her precious music stored onto the new machine. "Holy shit."
"I figured since it was my fault your last one was ruined…" He trailed off, rubbing his hand behind his neck.
"This is too nice," she protested. Her other laptop had been a low-tech PC that she bought her first year of college on a credit card that she was still struggling to pay off.
"I did some research and this was the best," he explained. "I had Jarvis organize and upload your backups."
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes," he interrupted, silencing her with a serious stare. "Yes, I did."
Her mouth snapped shut and she rolled her lips together to prevent herself from arguing. She didn't know how Bucky afforded a $1500 laptop, but it seemed to be important to him that he do this for her.
"Thank you," she murmured, turning her attention back to the screen and it's wonderful clarity. The last one had begun to dim from so much use. "Speaking of Jarvis, apparently he's been doing both of us favors today."
"Is that so?" Bucky asked, turning his attention to the lunch Darcy had set next to him.
"The Hydra message sort of gave me an idea," she explained, trying to brush along the mention of the message as quickly as she could. "There were a bunch of tapes from the professor that sounded like recordings of prayers in Arabic, but I'm thinking…"
"There might be a secret message hidden in one?"
"Exactly," she said. "It would be the perfect place to hide secret messages. Even if whoever is behind the attack went through all of his files to make sure he didn't leave any clues, they probably wouldn't think to double check anything not in English. It would be the perfect hiding spot."
"If there is something to hide…" Bucky remarked, reminding her that Professor Hodges' innocence was still just speculation.
Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't wait to find something and be able to tell you I told you so."
"I heard from Natasha."
Darcy nearly choked on her sandwich, coughing as she hit him with a wide eyed look. "Dude! Way to bury the lead! Are they okay?"
"Everything is fine, Clint is taking the Samaritan to the safe house. He's gonna stay out for a while. He sounded fairly shaken."
"Whoever the Samaritan is, it seems like they were close. It's not just some random contact," Darcy surmised. "Any chance you know who it is?"
"Always one for gossip," he teased. "Maybe we'll find out once Natasha is back."
"You play it cool, but you can't tell me that you're not dying to know," she teased.
"Yeah, I wanna know. I wanna know who this person is that dug that all that intel up on me and how the hell they did it."
Darcy recognized the agitation in his voice. "It bothers you?"
"Wouldn't it bother you if all your secrets were out there waiting to be discovered by the wrong people? I've done a lot of bad shit, Darce. Shit that maybe you and Steve are willing to overlook but…"
"Not everyone would be so forgiving…"
"Like Tony Stark or the United States government to name a couple of the big ones."
The haunted look returned to his features.
"Okay, you know what," Darcy announced. "We need a break. We need a break from Hydra and bad memories and fucking bombs and red alert emergencies. Tonight, I declare break time. We aren't allowed to talk about any of the horrible shit in our lives. We just forget about it all and have fun and maybe, just maybe, crack a full-on smile. I know you have it in you."
"What exactly will this break time entail?"
"Don't you worry about it," she gave him a sly smile. "You just show up at my door at 0800 hours sharp."
Bucky smirked, just a little bit. "That's eight in the morning, doll. Not eight at night."
"Whatever, eight pm, my door, be there," Darcy ordered. "Tonight, we bustin' outta this joint!"
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I hope my spelling/grammatical errors weren't too atrocious.
I'm really working on adding Steve as a third POV in this story, without him being just a flat character. It's an exercise for me. I usually go back and forth between two main character POVs in a story, so yay trying new things!
I'm also really in love with the various headcanons surrounding Wintershock and food (obviously you know this, if you've made it this far in this fic). Also, I'm originally from the South (US) and we like to show affection and concern through food. So we have Bucky providing food to his two favorite people in this chapter, is what I'm saying. A skill he's picked up from Darcy.
Also, oblivious Steve noticing things and not connecting dots.
Okay...okay! I'll stop narcissistically dissecting my own story and let you guys take a crack at it!
Also, I'm having a blast writing this and planning it and I love you guys for being here and reading and ESPECIALLY reading comments and messages.
