The Broken Ones

Chapter Twelve:
Not Alone


God, she hated herself. Why had she agreed to talk to Sam? Sure, he was nice enough, but she really didn't want to talk to him about this. How could he possibly understand what was going through her head, when she didn't understand it herself? Thinking about making an appointment with Sam was giving her anxiety. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she grabbed another shirt from her dresser and stuffed it into her suitcase. Who had she been kidding when she signed on to work for Jane? Who had she been kidding when she had gone to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.? Who had she been kidding when she'd come to work for Stark? No one but herself.

Marching across the room, she entered the bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush.

"Darce?" called Bucky from the bedroom door. "What are you doing, Doll?" he asked when she stormed back in.

"Packing," said Darcy, moving around him and back to her suitcase.

"Can I ask why?" He followed behind her closely.

"Because I'm leaving," she said, closing up her suitcase and standing, almost bumping into him. She was out of here.

"Again, can I ask why?" he pushed.

"Because I don't need this." She jabbed a finger into his chest. She was suddenly very angry.

"Need what? Darcy, help me out here," he pleaded. Catching her hand, he held it to his chest.

"I'm fine, I don't need to talk to Sam about what happened," Darcy blurted out.

"Darcy, you tried to kill yourself," he said laying it out there and not tip-toeing around the fact.

"I-"

"You don't want to talk to Thor, you don't want to talk to Jane, you don't want to talk to Steve and you don't want to talk to me… You gotta help me here, Babe, because I don't know what to do anymore. If you don't want to talk to Sam, who do you want to talk to? Because I will make sure it happens. Just tell me. Tell me because I don't know what to do to help you," he pleaded, pulling her closer to him. There had to be something he could do to help, there just had to be.

"I just need to leave…" she trailed off, tugging herself from his grasp and picking up her suitcase.

"Baby, running away from your problems isn't going to solve them. Let me help you. Let us help you. Talk to Sam, he's your friend and he loves you and he wants to help you get better. If you would rather talk to a stranger, just tell me and I'll make it happen." Bucky plucked the suitcase from her hands and set it down beside him. He wasn't going to lose the woman he loved over this. "I just think that talking to someone you know might be easier."

"I don't know what to do…" she said softly, her anger deflating and her entire body hunching in on itself as she made herself smaller. She was so confused and so lost.

"Just say you'll talk to Sam," Bucky begged, folding her in his arms. "Just once, and if you can't do it, we'll find another way." They stood still silently together as Darcy wrestled with herself.

"Just once," she agreed.

"That's all anyone's asking." Bucky stuck his face in her hair. Inhaling, he muttered something unintelligible and Darcy cried. She would see Sam. If it would make him feel better, she would go. She could go at least once.


Darcy stared off into space as she sat at the dining room table. One of the things she loved most in the world was painting her nails and doing nail art for herself. She always felt a sense of pride being able to show off her nails and tell people she'd done it. But now? Now she couldn't seem to be bothered. So she sat at the small table, bottles of nail polish and dotting tools surrounding her but not moving.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Steve asked, entering the kitchen and hovering over her shoulder, a concerned look on his face.

"I wanted to paint my nails…" Darcy trailed off, looking at the bottles.

"But?" he prompted her.

"I can't bring myself to do it," she said pitifully. Steve ran a hand through her hair once before sitting across from her. Taking a bottle of polish, he unscrewed the lid before gesturing for her hand.

"I'll do it... and I'll even paint something nice for you," he added, wiping off one side of the brush before painting her nail. If she couldn't do the things she loved on her own, he would help her.


"Again," ordered Natasha as Darcy hit the punching bag. The Widow had shown up out of nowhere and demanded Darcy go and train with her. She had hoped that Bucky would say something but he hadn't, he'd just let the red head take her and so, Darcy had been hitting a punching bag for the last hour, while the Black Widow corrected her technique. Darcy was sweaty and tired and had just about had enough.

"Natasha, can we please stop for today?" she asked, arms shaking.

"You need to know how to protect yourself," said the Black Widow. "A strong body is a strong mind."

"I know, but I'm dying. Can we pick this up again tomorrow?" Darcy whined. Looking her over, Natasha nodded and gestured to the door. Watching the brunette take of at top speed, Natasha sighed. She wanted to help but this was the only way she knew how. Was she pushing her too hard? She hoped not.


Clint positioned her in front of a target and handed her a bow. Darcy grumbled at him but took it.

"What are we doing here, Clint?" she asked suspiciously.

"Teaching you how to shoot," he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?"

"Because distraction is good." He shrugged and placed her hands on her bow. "Listen, I know you've probably heard it all by now, so I'm not going to say it all again. Instead we are going to focus on getting you a hobby. Having something to distract you from dwelling on negative thoughts will help keep you sane." He helped her nock an arrow. "Just trust me on this…"

"Is this what you do?" she asked as she raised her arms and pointed at the target.

"Nah, this is work for me." He fixed her stance. "Hopefully for you it will be enjoyable."

"Then what's the great Hawkeyes escape?" she queried, doing her best to aim. Letting go her arrow hit the edge of the target and he clapped her on the shoulder with enthusiasm.

"Not bad kid." He helped her set up again. "If you ever tell anyone this I will deny it… only Tasha knows," Clint threatened.

"It can't be that bad." Darcy rolled her eyes.

"I knit," he said, covering a hand with his eyes.

"Shut up, you do not." She lowered the bow to look at him, mouth hanging open.

"I picked it up from one of the acrobats in my circus days. Her mother taught her, she taught me, you get the idea." He waved her off like it was nothing. "What? It's calming, it keeps my hands busy and I can get in the zone and just focus on one thing." He made her pick up the bow again and helped her aim this time.

"No judgement here." And there wasn't, from either side.


Steve was hovering again. Since the incident, he'd taken to it, as though he thought if he was always around and always watching her, she wouldn't be able to do it again. Not that she had any intention of trying to kill herself again, but this was getting a little ridiculous. Closing her book with a snap, she looked up at Steve, who had been reading over her shoulder. He jumped, startled by her sudden movement.

"Listen if you're going to hover like this, then what's the point of me even going home?" she griped. "We should all just live together." Darcy waved the book in her hands around to make her point before realizing what she had just said. Tossing the book across the sofa, she closed her eyes and listened to the pregnant pause that was engulfing her. Why was the floor not opening up and swallowing her whole?

"That's actually not a bad idea." She jumped at Bucky's sudden appearance. Her eyes flicked to his and then to Steve who looked like he didn't know whether to be shocked or pensive.

"I was joking," she said quickly.

"I wasn't," he said lightly as he put his keys in the bowl on the table in the hallway. Walking into the room, he leant against the chair across from her.

"We've been talking about asking you for a while now. We just didn't know how to bring it up," said Steve seriously.

"Don't lie, you're only asking me now because of what I did and somehow you feel responsible for it." Darcy rolled her eyes. She was being blunt but she didn't want to dance around what was bothering her.

"Darcy!" Steve moved back as if slapped. "We're asking you because we love you," he corrected her gently. "It's just silly to have you keep going back and forth."

"You don't have to answer us now but think about it, Doll," said Bucky reasonably. Bending down, Steve placed a kiss on her forehead before moving to the couch opposite of her and sitting down. The conversation was over. They had stated their arguments and now the ball was in her court. This was her decision, they didn't want to force her and they were making that clear. Darcy blinked… she had some thinking to do.


Therapy with Sam had been an affair, though thankfully a private one. It had started with Darcy clamming up and not wanting to talk but Sam charmed his way into her good graces. It hadn't even felt like a therapy session until suddenly she was crying. She supposed the good thing about talking to Sam and not a stranger was that Sam could hug her when she needed it - and boy had she needed it.


Looking out over the city, Darcy took in the fresh air. She had gotten up early this morning and was sitting on the balcony watching the sunrise. Today was a good day. Taking a sip of her coffee, she sat back and inhaled deeply.

"Miss Lewis, might I take up a moment of your time," JARVIS queried. If she didn't know better, she'd say he sounded a little off. Darcy had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn't spoken to her in a while unless directly asked something.

"Sure, J. What can I do for you?" she answered him. There was a pause before he continued.

"I would like to apologize for my poor response time to your emergency. I fear that-"

"JARVIS, let me stop you right there," Darcy interrupted him. She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't blame you for anything, it was my decision to do what I did and you saved my life. I ordered you into privacy mode, if you hadn't over ridden your own programming I would be dead." An AI was asking for forgiveness from her, what was her life? "So instead of you apologizing to me, I should be thanking you for caring enough to fight to save me. Lord knows I wasn't fighting for myself, okay JARVIS?"

"Yes, Miss Lewis," he said, sounding relieved. "I would like to add that I am glad you survived."

"Thanks, J, me too." She smiled, looking up at the ceiling.


A.N: Real life has been kicking my ass and I haven't had time to write as much as I would have liked but here's another update for you all. I think there's probably about one more chapter left.

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