((Little known/talked about fact: One alcoholic beverage in a day is not only perfectly safe while pregnant, but can have lots of benefits! It's relaxing, reduces stress, loosens a mother's muscles, etc. Apparently a little more is okay even, but I for one would feel like that's pushing it. Because even lesser known fact? ONE DRINK CAN -FEEL- LIKE 4 WHILE YOU'RE PREGNANT. My sister in law tells me this emphatically (4 kids, all perfectly healthy, unless one thinks severe geekery from birth is a defect). Also, slightly filler chapter, but not really. Musings are never filler, in my book.))

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Chapter 10

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"I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy,
I'm tired of driving 'till I see stars in my eyes,
I look up to hear myself saying,
Baby, too much I strive, I just ride..."

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"You're pregnant."

Darcy blinks, halfway through the act of sitting down in the chair opposite Phil Coulson's desk. He's meeting her gaze steadily and mildly, as per usual, and after a moment Darcy just sighs, her bum hitting the seat. "How is it you get to know -everything-, Sherlock?" His smirk widens just a bit.

"I pay attention, Agent Lewis." He replies, nodding to her middle as if she's showing more than she would at a meager three and a half months, "You've recently had your favorite pencil skirt altered to add five inches. I can see the new seams."

"...Phil, you studying my seams might count as sexual harassment. Were you any other man, that is." She gets a flat look in reply, before her superior goes on.

"Jane Foster has had cribs marked in the Macy's catalog on her desk. As she has expressed her opinion on procreating quite loudly, I have no reason to believe that she'd be open to birthing demi-gods until filling out the paperwork and taking a 9-month leave in Asgard, safe and secure," He smirks, and Darcy tries not to be offended by his subtle hint that her lack of planning was a little inexcusable, "Bruce Banner has been bringing you herbal teas, and you've been having tomato soup every day with lunch for the past month, despite proclaiming loudly, on your first visit to the caf a year ago, that tomato soup was, and I quote, 'The mensies of the devil'."

"...Seriously Phil." Darcy blinks, "Were you anything other than a bad-ass mother-fucker SHIELD agent, you'd make one hell of a stalker. How does this work when you're dating...?"

"I somehow doubt you'd be surprised by how much women appreciate an attentive man." He answers, calmly, the hint of a smile around his mouth and eyes. Darcy smiles back after a moment, sighing.

"True. So yeah, actually the whole reason I came in on Christmas Eve was to let you know," Darcy smooths the front of her blouse, "It's gonna start showing soon, and I'm not some idiot who's going to pretend it isn't. Lump, spawn inside, just the way it is..."

"Understood," Phil links his fingers together, giving her that searching, contemplative look that always gets her worrying that there's food on her face. "You do plan on continuing with your regular duties, I expect?" Darcy nods, emphatically.

"I admit I...might not be taking as many risks, but," Darcy shakes her head, "I see no reason why I can't keep working. Heroes are the ones in the thick of it anyway, yeah? I'm just on the margins with the gun, and then I'm filing all the paperwork..."

"You'd think," Coulson says, carefully, "...Even so, I'll be assigning you an intern..." Darcy groans, and Phil fixes her with that look again, "You're still the liaison, Agent Lewis. I am simply..." He gestures, and suddenly Darcy grins, tilting her head.

"...Giving me a lackey?" He lofts a single brow, and she's suddenly feeling much better, "Oh hoho, someone to boss around in the field while I'm doing all the watching and brain-working, I like the way you think Agent Coulson." He rolls his eyes, but Darcy's grin just widens, "...I might not be actively seeking out firefights anymore, boss, but that still doesn't mean that if it falls on me, I won't attempt thrilling heroics."

"I never thought that for a moment, Agent Lewis. I am simply hedging my bets."

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There's a vigor that's been filling up her bones. Some might find that having their boyfriend drop back into their life for a few hours only to disappear again to be a rather traumatic, confusing thing. Darcy Lewis, however, takes it as a much-needed reassurance. That's not to say she's not still a little pissed, oh no. And it's not like she can imagine some kind of fluffy world where superheroes suddenly find themselves without angst or arch-villains, cracktastically picking out pastel wallpaper and going to Lamaze classes together. In fact, if her life ever becomes that kind of cliché, Darcy hopes there's someone there to end it for her.

But...there is that thing, that wanting him there, telling her how he really feels about all this, about her having his kid. She wants him there to laugh at all this shit with her, the crazy women offering her unasked-for advice in the office, acting like women weren't pumping out spawn for a million years before water births or crib pads were invented. She wants him there when all she wants in the world is a giant tub of fucking tomato soup from the deli down the street (though Rogue is proving to be an excellent errand-girl). She wants him there to assure her that no, their trips out into the middle of nowhere weren't going to end, that she'd be doing shots again and dancing 'til dawn at some dive with him still. Maybe not as often as she once had, but goddamnit, she had the paycheck to pay for a babysitter, assuming one of the amiable super-soldiers or Norse gods they knew didn't volunteer first.

Anyway, all that, it does have her a little petulant because hello, Darcy Lewis may be awesome, but she isn't a saint. Still, there's that thread they share, tying them together. Darcy usually doesn't have this kind of patience with people, flawed, paper-thin things that they are. Logan is different, though. For one, he's not paper-thin and for two, she's let herself into his makeup and genetics almost more than anyone else. For all she's the way she's always been, jumping at the chance to get angry at the half of the relationship who wasn't her, she also loves him, trusts him. He says he needs to go away, she knows it's the truth, not some lame excuse like from one of the spineless wonders she'd dated in the past. Logan means it when he says he's no good for her right now, much as she'd disagree, even with the scars splitting her face. He believes the lies the world has affirmed in him, because he's had so many years of them. She knew he wanted to get this right.

So yeah, for all that she wishes she had the outlet of bitching and complaining about her baby-daddy like a normal chick in this situation, Darcy is kind of glad that she has something better, something higher and more meaningful if you like, even if it is lonely as hell. It's a trust with another person she's never had, at least not with someone who wasn't family. She supposed he was kind of was family now.

For the present, it's enough.

Even so. It'd be a lot nicer if Logan was the one coming in from the snow with a tub of soup for her, cause that would lead to all kinds of good fun (why do so few resources warn a woman about how HORNY pregnancy can make a gal?! Cause goddamn). She supposes Marie is still good company, though she does eye her sideways, noting that it's Christmas Eve and she's -still there-, not in Westchester with her other close friends. When she finally mentions this out loud, her friend just heaves a sigh, shaking her head, and Darcy realizes that maybe she's been spending a bit too much time analyzing her own drama, as opposed to the drama sharing a penthouse with her.

"That's just..." Marie groans, pushing her palms into her eye sockets, "...I haven't looked Remy in th' eye since I started seein' someone new, Sugar."

"Ahhh," Darcy smirks around her eggnog, "-Now- we're talkin' about stuff.

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Somewhere over the Pacific Logan had finally let the truth into his soul, that he was going to be a father.

Father. God almighty...

There was going to be a person in this world with his blood in their veins, all his good and all his bad and all that gorgeous, wild, ridiculous stuff from its mother. It was a concept that had been so vague, strange and alien to him once. Now it's settling in his bones, that he'd left something of himself with a girl barely old enough to be out on her own, let alone a SHIELD liaison with a gun at her hip and his heart in her hands, his kid in her belly.

It's funny, her age has only ever been an issue with him when -he- screws up. Not when she's acting like a kid, but when he's got what he thinks is a reason to push her away. That's when she's suddenly twenty-two again, when he's telling himself that he had no business being with her anyway, messing with her life. This time, though, he's catching himself, growling inside his own head because no matter how old she is or isn't, he loves her and she's in this situation, they'd gotten there together, and there was no way in hell he was going to be absent. Well...once the kid was born, anyway. Logan knows he has no business being in any kid's life, now, until he faces some things. And of all the places he'd traveled, he knows one that might grant him what he seeks.

Still, he knows this could easily be seen as the coward's way out by anyone else. He's run off, he's left her, and if any of her...or his...companions find out about it before talking to Darcy, Logan might very well find himself at the receiving end of a Shield, or an arc reactor, or a bolt of lightning. Or Rogue sucking out his life force until he's an empty husk again, Logan wouldn't put it past her. And Charles could do interesting things to Logan's mind, given enough motivation.

And maybe Logan is scared shitless. The man couldn't remember his own father, how the hell was he supposed to know how to -be- one? But there's Darcy...and he finds that it's not so hard to picture, with her...having a family.

So yeah, he's running. But it's with a purpose this time. And Wolverine sure as hell will be running back.

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Christmas comes and goes, more pleasant than Darcy might've thought it would. Jane, Erik and Bruce chase after a wormhole over South Africa at the last minute, so Darcy gets to step in as Thor's date to Tony Stark's annual New Year's Eve Party. It's a charity, night out, and PR opportunity for the Avengers, and she's more than happy to be a part of all three. It might be the last time she gets to wear something fancy for a while without looking like a parade float, so Darcy goes all out for once on SHIELD's dollar, getting something emerald green and royal-looking. Of course, were it Jane on Thor's arm, she'd probably be wearing something spangly and gold gifted to her by her future mother-in-law, but Thor praises her all the same.

"I am glad you shall be experiencing this!" He tells her brightly, as they enter the media fray leading up to the event. Darcy's hyper-aware of the cameras going off, and secretly hopes that maybe a certain someone will catch sight of her image the next day, wherever he is. Presently she just grins to the god at her side who's hamming it up for the press.

"I think like, the last thing I got to go to was New Years last year, so yeah, been a while," Darcy fakes a shocked and appalled face, when someone behind the flashbulbs calls out asking if Thor has a new squeeze.

"My lady love is pursuing her studies this night! Lady Darcy is my friend!" His jovial, booming voice carries, melting the crowds like butter in his big hands, while in an undertone her asks, "...You recall what happened then, of course?"

"Of course," Darcy murmurs back through her teeth, smiling for the cameras, recalling the carnage that had almost ruined the night, "I've got a gun in my garter and a knife in my purse." Thor's smile widens even further, which Darcy wouldn't have thought possible.

"Lady Darcy Lewis, such a warrior you have become!" He proclaims, as they're climbing the gallery stairs and heading inside, "Though do be sure, should mayhem befall, we'll not let you deep into the fray!" She snorts, waving to Hawkeye and Widow by the back corner. Natasha in a red dress is almost as natural for her as breathing. However, Clint in a tux, while quite the eye-candy, looks like he'd rather be wearing a suit of bees.

"Thor," Darcy goes on, conversationally, steering them toward the beverages. She can have all of one whopping drink tonight, and it's gonna be champagne and it's gonna count, because who knows at which point they might get jumped, "Did Frigga stop keeping a sword nearby while she was knocked up? Would Sif? Natasha?"

"Well, no, but they're..."

"I have a bad guy body count too, big guy," Darcy grins, "Like I promised the Son of Coul, I won't be an idiot, but a girl who can't shoot bastards in the face is a pretty poor excuse for a superhero mother." Thor's booming laugh has people turning their heads from across the room.

"Well said!" Darcy winces, as an empty champagne glass meets its end on the marble floor. Someday he'd learn.

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The windows shatter at around ten o'clock, and Steve's already shouting for the civilians to file out the covered exits, Beth in her shimmering pink dress clutching his hand tight before she's kicking off her spangly Louboutins and running for it. Hydra agents are attempting to open fire on the crowd, and mostly failing as Thor already has Mjolnir in hand, messing with their strange weapons with his lightning. Tony isn't anywhere to be seen, but Darcy knows that's because he's feigned his infamous tardy rudeness as a cover for the fact that he's been circling the city above, on guard.

They all knew that if there was a Hydra attack tonight, it'd likely be used as a distraction to get at their tech from the labs, and Iron Man is no doubt heading straight for SHIELD headquarters at the moment. In fact, Darcy's not sure if tonight wasn't kind of a bait for their obnoxiously elusive enemies in the first place. Then again, there had been a lot of fat checks written for the VA hospitals Cap frequents, so perhaps tonight was just multi-purpose?

At any rate, Darcy's got her skirts hiked up and her gun drawn, firing off rounds as she backs away behind the crowd of civilians, calling out for backup via the hidden com in her studded earring. Coulson's calmly calling orders to her, when one Hydra agent with an actual gun with actual bullets gets off a shot, grazing Darcy's arm. With a hiss, a growl, and a viciously accurate few rounds fired back into the man's face, she has him and a few others down before she's out the door.

It's around then that she's affirmed in her notion, that some mama-bear-level of survival instincts actually do exist in Darcy's blood, and far from making her irrational or emotionally compromised, this is all probably going to make her one hell of an Agent.

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