Notes:
Alright, this is my third update (three updates, one for each story I didn't update last week) of the week. Next week, baring anymore crazy traffic, we'll go back to two updates a week.
Enjoy!
Kitten
Chapter 10: Distortion
Darcy woke to the sound of her own rapid breathing, the soft covers from her bed tangled around her legs, the pillows pushed hap hazard off the bed. She sucked in a breath and peered around the room, moonlight filtered through the heavy curtains casting long shadows across the room. This wasn't her room, hers was pitch black, no windows to cast moonlit shadows. She scooted to the far side of the bed, letting out a muffled shout as she tipped over the side and landed in a heap on the carpeted floor.
"Ms. Lewis," a voice came out of the darkness. "I am detecting signs of distress, would you like for me to inform the Captain?"
Darcy scrambled to her feet, tripping over the discarded bedclothes, falling against the wall. "Show yourself," she hissed into the night.
"I apologies, Ms. Lewis," the voice was calm and collected, causing Darcy's agitation to ratchet up further. "I am not a corporal being, and as such, I cannot show myself. I have, on the other hand, expressed my concerns to Captain Rogers, who I believe is on his way to check on your wellbeing."
Darcy pulled herself free of the tangled bedclothes and curled into the corner, which was the most defensible place in the room, a clear line of sight through the door and into the apartment's living room. As her mind woke up and her heart rate slowed, she remembered her rescue. Her muscles relaxed and reluctantly, she pulled herself away from the wall. Dragging the bedsheets behind her, Darcy curled back up on the ridiculously comfortable king sized bed, and let herself drift off again. She was safe.
Locks whirling to life in the next room alerted Darcy to the presence of another person, the sound of the door opening was too far away, but she dismissed that, as her still sleeping brain playing tricks. They were testing her. She kept her breathing deep and even, waiting for the presence to creep closer.
"She seems fine, Jarvis," the voice was quiet and soft, trying to will her into a false sense of complacency.
"I assure you, Captain," a British accent colored the response. It was just a test, she assured herself, they were trying to disorient her. "She was in deep distress just a few minutes ago."
A hand dropped gently on her shoulder, shaking her. "Darcy," the first voice called softly. She let out another breath slowly and then clamped her hand over the one on her shoulder, throwing her attacker over herself and pinning him down to the bed, straddling his chest. "Jarvis, lights," the man called before Darcy could get her hands around his throat.
The sudden explosion of light blinded her for a moment and she clamped her eyes shut as they fought to adjust. She couldn't understand why the man wasn't pressing his advantage, but he just lay quietly beneath her. Slowly she opened her eyes and got her answer, Captain Steve Rogers lay underneath her, patiently waiting for her to let go of his neck, so he could breathe.
Darcy leapt off the Captain like she'd been burned and backed her way into the corner again, arms up to protect herself. "What the fuck are you doing in here?" she all but shouted.
"Jarvis called," Steve rubbed his neck and gingerly slid off the bed, his hands up to show he was unarmed. "He said you were showing signs of agitation and distress, and asked that I come in and see if I could help."
"So you sneak up on me in bed," she could feel her heart rate increasing and her breathing coming in short pants.
"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," he sat down at the corner of the bed, keeping his voice soft and level, like you would for a dangerous animal.
"I'm clearly anything but alright," Darcy slid to the floor and tried to calm her breathing. "Get out."
"Can I do anything?" the Captain stood and backed his way out of the room, looking pityingly at the woman huddled on the floor.
"Just get out," she buried her head against her knees, feeling hot tears sting her eyes.
"I apologies, Ms. Lewis," Jarvis said. "I feel I have made an error. Is there a way I can correct this mistake?"
"I'll be alright, J," her voice muffled by her legs as she willed her tears to stop. For two months as her memories returned, she'd kept her emotions in check, and now that she didn't have to, it felt like they wouldn't let her be. "It's the middle of the night; I don't want to bother anyone else."
"Then I must inform you that the Captain has called Agents Romanoff and Barton."
Darcy sighed and got up, wiping tears from her face and righting the sheets on her bed, before climbing back in, propping herself up on the pillows to await her forth coming visitors.
The click and whirl of the front door looks notified her to her guest's arrival. "She slept just fine last night," Clint's voice carried through the apartment.
"She's had a few shocks since then," Natasha said, locking eyes with Darcy as she and Clint entered the bedroom.
"Some literal ones," Darcy drawled.
"You alright, mladshaya sestra?" the Widow asked, sitting at the edge of the bed. Darcy just nodded and let her head fall back against the headboard, the tears slipping down her cheeks betraying the lie.
"It's okay if you're not," Clint sat down next to his partner and waited for Darcy to make the next move.
"If I may, Agent Barton," Jarvis intervened. "Perhaps you might try to keep Ms. Lewis' routine as close as possible to what she's used to for the time being."
Clint looked at Darcy for confirmation; her small shrug was probably the best he was going to get. "Okay," he stood from the bed and adjusted the lone arm chair in the room to the far corner of the bed. "Would you please make sure to raise the lights to one hundred present at exactly six am?" He dropped down into the chair and propped his feet on the corner of the bed.
"I will add that to my program, sir," the AI agreed.
Clint settled down in the chair, it wasn't the worst place he'd ever slept, not by far. "Go to sleep, Darce," he smiled fondly at the brunette. "We'll be here if you need anything." Natasha just nodded and patted the girl on the hand before disappearing through the doorway into the living room. "Jarvis, lights." The lights went out and Darcy let herself once again be claimed by sleep.
Clint watched as nightmares shook the girl, flinching each time she cried out in her sleep. He was more than a little relieved when the lights came up at six and Darcy roused herself for the day. He dropped a kiss on her head and slipped from the room, confident that Natasha would take care of her.
Lucky greeted him at the door to his apartment and followed him to the bedroom. The old golden retriever was perfectly happy to crawl into bed with his mast, his big tail thumping happily against the mattress as Clint let sleep wash over him, a notion developing at the back of the archer's mind. A smile formed on his lips as sleep over came him, Lucky warm and solid at his side.
Darcy's nightmares had been bloody and vivid, but the solid weight of the punching bag, the repetitive movements of her body, pushed the dripping carnage away from her mind. Natasha watched from the treadmill, pounding out miles in a vain attempt to shake off hours of missed sleep and month of jetlag. The Widow watched as the punching back rocked under the younger woman's fists, her technique nearly as flawless as the Widow's own, if not a little more violet.
Darcy stepped neatly away from the bag, letting it swing in jerky fits as she crossed the room to stretch. "Thanks for helping last night," the girl's voice barely carried over Natasha's pounding feet.
"We all had an adjustment period to the outside world," the Widow stepped off her machine and dropped down next to the girl, using the towel across her shoulders to mop sweat off her brow.
Darcy nodded. "I think I could use some coffee, now," she deflected and stood, waiting for Natasha to follow her out, since she was required an escort everywhere. The other woman let the topic drop, and led the way to caffeine.
Clint stood outside Darcy's rooms, his hand loosely through Lucky's collar, hesitating before he knocked.
"I just realized," Clint said as the door swung open. "That I know next to nothing about you." Darcy tipped her head to the side, her eyes falling to the over excited dog at the archer's side. "I have no idea if you eve like," his words died in his throat as Darcy slid to her knees in front of the dog, burying her hands in his fur.
"Well, hello hansom," she let the dog drag his tongue over her face. "What's your name?"
"Never mind," Clint chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. "This is Lucky, can we come in?" Darcy let a smile drift across her face as the golden retriever bounded through her door and settled on her couch. "It's good to see you smile." Clint kissed her cheek and joined the dog on the couch, flipping on the TV.
Darcy sat down on the other side of the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table. She slid down low on the couch, and let Lucky nudge his head under her hand, demanding to be pet. "I'm like a million years behind on TV."
"I think we can fix that," the archer said as he flipped through channels. Lucky just huffed and did his best to curl his entire body onto Darcy's lap. "I think he likes you."
"He's a sweet boy," she scratched behind the dog's ears. Clint just nodded and dropped the remote when he found a rerun of Dog Cops, watching Darcy and Lucky out of the corner of his eyes.
Notes:
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