Cold sweat poured from Clint as he shot up in bed, breathing rapid and body shaking. His eyes automatically snapped around the unfamiliar room, trying to find anything to anchor himself with. Something he could latch onto and use to pull himself back to reality. It was the only thing that helped him come down from these nightmares sometimes.
Which was when he heard the whimper, followed by the shuffling of sheets. He didn't have to really look to know what that sound was; it was all too familiar. Natasha frequently tossed violently and whimpered in her sleep if she didn't manage to exhaust herself first.
Looking over towards the only bed in the room, he saw exactly what he thought he would. Darcy was tossing on her bed, whimpering in her sleep and thrashing out violently at intervals. His heart actually twisted a little at the sight. He knew that fear, recognized all of the signs of a memory-turned-nightmare. And if what she'd hinted about was anything to go off, she had more than enough memories to create a lifetime of nightmares.
He thought about waking her, was even reaching out to shake her shoulder, when she suddenly let out a shout and shot up in her bed. Like he had been moments before, she was shaking and panting, her whole body tensed to defend herself from an unknown threat. It felt like a tidal wave of pain and anguish flooded the room for a moment, threatening to overwhelm Clint, but it disappeared just as quickly. Obviously, he wasn't getting enough sleep. He was starting to hallucinate.
"Darcy?" called Clint gently, trying to get her attention. "Darce?"
Slowly, her head turned in his direction. Her eyes, normally so warm and casual, held the same haunted look Natasha's did at times when she woke from a nightmare suddenly. It was the same look that Clint knew he was probably still sporting at that moment. Maybe that theory Coulson had broached once about nightmares being contagious wasn't that far off after all.
"Clint." Her voice was horse, rough from sleep and probably from whimpering. She hadn't been screaming that he'd heard, but that didn't mean she hadn't made any noise either.
For a few seconds, she just blinked at him as if her mind was having trouble recognizing that he was sitting right in front of her. He stared back, meeting her eyes with what he hoped was a semi-understanding look. It was impossible to tell if it worked or not though, particularly when she looked away before speaking. "Sorry."
"It's alright," assured Clint, shrugging a bit in hopes of putting her a little at ease. Maybe she was supposed to be helping him, but that didn't mean he couldn't help her in return. If there was one thing Natasha had taught him, it was that your past never stops haunting you; it's always curled somewhere in the shadows, just waiting to cause you trouble. "Believe me, after all the times I've woken Nat with my flailing, it's about time it happened to me."
Closing her eyes, Darcy balanced her forehead carefully on her knees while keeping her hands on the bed beside her. It wasn't something Clint hadn't seen her do for longer than a few seconds before and usually it was in reaction to Tony doing something absolutely stupid. Which, well, Clint probably had done something stupid, but nothing was blatantly sticking out to him at the moment. Then again, it might be a safe pose for her, like the fetal position.
Silently, he watched as her hands slowly began to move, dragging her fingers up and down along the sheets. It looked rhythmic, particularly when her fingers began to drum out a steady pattern. It was almost like watching a pianist play without a piano.
"What actually woke you?" Darcy's voice startled Clint, almost causing him to jump. Her eyes were still shut and her fingers were still moving, but she was apparently expecting him to answer all the same. Maybe. It was really hard to guess in this particularly situation.
"Not sure," admitted Clint with a shrug, stretching a little and rolling his shoulders. "My own nightmare, I think. Can't really remember it."
The wince that passed over Darcy's face was readily visible and her fingers momentarily stumbled in their dancing rhythm. Still, she didn't actually life her head or stop moving her fingers. "Sorry."
"You didn't do anything Darce," dismissed Clint, shifting around so he could stand up and stretch. "It happens. Nightmares are more common than not at this point. That's what a punching bag is for."
A touch of a smile twitched at Darcy's lips, her head rising at last from her knees as her fingers slowly stopped dancing across her sheets. "Well, I think dad has one in the basement."
Both of Clint's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You have a basement?"
"A gym basement, yeah," confirmed Darcy with a weak shrug. "The door's hidden because it doubles as our safe room, but we have one."
Chuckling, Clint shifted around so he was fully facing her and offered her a grin. "We probably can't get to it without waking the others though."
Darcy snorted a little, some of the normal humor that she embodied coming back as she threw her legs out of her bed. "It's a safe room. If I couldn't get to it from my bedroom, there wouldn't be much point in having it."
"True," admitted Clint as he watched Darcy pad across her room. Well, he tried not to watch her because, frankly, she was in an over-sized Captain America shirt she probably stole from Coulson and what looked like really small shorts. It meant Clint had a good view of her rear as she crossed the room and he was honestly trying not to be a pervy old man and stare. Really, he was trying. But it really was too late at night and, well, he was curious about where this safe room was. It wasn't like there were a lot of options for where the door could be.
Pausing beside her closet, Clint half expected her to open the slatted door and open some trapdoor inside. Instead, she turned to her overstuffed bookshelf and grabbed the edge, pulling the shelf aside as if it weighed nothing. Which was when Clint realized that it probably did.
"Is there anything on that shelf that's real?" wondered Clint aloud, watching her move the shelf with almost no effort.
"A few things," confirmed Darcy, leaving the bookshelf aside to reveal a blank looking wall. "But it's mostly faked. Pretty much everything I read is digital. Easier to carry around."
Clint almost winced a little. That was something else he knew too well: the idea that anything not large or bolted down could get thrown at you. It made a lot more sense that Darcy would keep her books on a single digital device rather than having a shelf of them.
Silently, he watched as she slid open a panel on the wall and typed something in. The wall beside her popped open a second later, revealing a set of stairs spiraling down in a narrow shaft in the wall. She stepped aside then, gesturing to the stairway. "If you wanna see it, it's that way."
Scrambling up from his place on the floor (and making sure his eyes were definitely pointing up), Clint ventured to the opening in the wall and stuck his head in. It was impossible to tell how far down the spiraling staircase went, but the whole basement safe room idea seemed entirely more plausible now. "You sure we can go down there?"
"It doubles as a gym," reminded Darcy, leaning on the wall beside the opening. Her voice lost some of it's stability with her next words though. "Besides, no one is going to get mad."
He could hear the tears in her voice without even looking up and every muscle in his body tensed in response. Touching her wouldn't help; it would just make things worse like it had earlier. But damnit if he didn't want to hug her.
Stepping back, Clint shook his head and reached around her carefully to try to figure out how to close the door. Going down there wasn't going to help her, it was just going to make her sad. Whatever was down there was a truly private space- accessible only to her and Coulson. She didn't need him disturbing it.
"Clint?" asked Darcy, her eyes watching his fingers as he tried to figure out the door's controls. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to shut the door," replied Clint, his brow furrowing. There should have been a big 'close' button or something obvious.
Darcy shifted some, her fingers brushing his aside and hitting a few buttons before the door snapped shut. "It takes a code to close outside off the stairwell. It's supposed to keep anyone who does manage to find the door from locking themselves in the stairwell with me or locking me inside."
"Makes sense," agreed Clint, his eyes refocusing on Darcy. Which is about when he realized how close he was to her. It wasn't any closer than he'd been on the subway, but somehow it felt a hell of a lot more intimate than when they'd been on the train. Then again, that might be because she was basically in an old t-shirt and he wasn't exactly dressed. Shirts made him uncomfortable when he slept, namely because he didn't like the pressure around his neck. It meant he wasn't wearing a shirt now, when he probably really could have used the extra layer.
If she noticed though, she didn't let on. Her head tilted back to meet Clint's eyes as she leaned on the wall, the anxiety from earlier faded but not gone. Clearly, she was no where near relaxed, but at least most of the fear had melted away. "So, what do you want to do?"
"Uh, what?" asked Clint, blinking at her in surprise. He wasn't sure why the question was so unexpected, but for some reason, he hadn't been expecting it. Probably because your hovering near the gutter. She doesn't want to sleep, so find something else to do that doesn't involve losing more clothing.
"I'm not going back to bed, but the others are out in the living room, so we can't exactly watch TV or something," pointed out Darcy mildly. "And Pepper and Tony are in the other room where the radio is, so can't exactly listen to that either."
Clint nodded slowly, eyes scanning her room for something to do. When he couldn't sleep in the circus, he'd usually shoot arrows until his arms ached, but that wasn't exactly an option here. Coulson wasn't the type to keep targets laying around. "Um, do you have a deck of cards?"
One of Darcy's eyebrows popped up but she turned to the trunk in her room and, after a moment, fished out what looked like a really worn deck of cards. "What do you know how to play?"
"Lots of stuff," replied Clint as he carefully took the cards and sat down on the ground. "What do you prefer?"
For a moment, Darcy looked almost embarrassed, one of her hands rising to rub at the back of her neck. "Well, dad and I always played cribbage..."
"Cribbage?" repeated Clint, one eyebrow popping up even as he shuffled the cards. "Isn't that for old people?"
Scoffing a bit, Darcy dropped down to sit across from him and balanced her elbows on her knees. "Dude, that game takes skill."
"I'm pretty sure that's what they play at retirement homes," stated Clint as he repositioned the deck between them with a bit of a smirk. "Steve probably knows how to play it."
"Nope, I asked," countered Darcy, scooping up the deck and shuffling it herself. "But, since you clearly haven't learned the finer art of card games, how about poker?"
"Finer art of card games, huh?" asked Clint, a smirk drawing across his face as he leaned forward. "Alright, teach me."
"Teach you," repeated Darcy, her shuffle momentarily becoming uneven as she glanced up at him in marked disbelief. "You want me to teach you cribbage."
"Or any other 'skill' card games you know," confirmed Clint as he leaned back on his hands. "Though I'll warn you, I'm damn good at poker."
"And I learned how to play poker from a man who looks bored when facing down a giant alien robot," countered Darcy with a pointed look. "Pretty sure I have the advantage."
Clint was careful not to wince at Darcy's use of the present tense and accepted the cards as she dealt them out. "Are you going to teach me this old man card game or are you going to talk?"
"I'm going to teach you," assured Darcy as she set the deck back between them. "Now cut the deck and prepare to learn a real card game."
"Hey, look who finally dragged himself out of bed." The voice that called out to him as he stumbled into the kitchen grated slightly on Clint's nerves and nearly sent him back up to Darcy's room to hide. How Tony was actually cheerful in the morning was beyond him. Then again, it was possible the man simply hadn't slept.
Everyone appeared to be up and awake, save Darcy who he knew was still passed out upstairs. He'd made sure to sneak out quietly and close the door so no one would wake her. After the night she'd had, she needed the sleep.
Grumbling, the archer just made his way to the coffee maker and attempted to ignore the others. It was too early in the morning for Tony's bullshit. No one else even tried to speak with him until he had a cup of coffee in hand and had managed to gulp down half of it.
"Is Darcy still asleep?" asked Jane curiously, worry evident in her words.
"Yeah," confirmed Clint, swallowing down a particularly hot gulp with a wince. He should probably take some coffee up to her. Even if he didn't want to wake her, the others weren't going to be particularly understanding and he didn't really want to tell them about the late night disturbance. "She was still out cold when I woke up."
"Should someone wake her?" asked Bruce uncertainly. "It's almost 10:30."
"I will," offered Clint, swallowing the rest of his coffee and pulling out a fresh cup for Darcy. "Just let me get a peace offering first."
There was silence for a moment, something which Clint pointedly tried to ignore, before Natasha spoke up. "What happened Clint."
It wasn't a question, rather a demand for information. Clint internally winced, setting the carafe back on the burner as gently as he could. "She had a nightmare, that was all. We stayed up for a while after. Not a big deal."
Natasha nodded once, relaxing her stance and moving around him to the carafe. She didn't offer a verbal response and Clint let that speak for itself. It was their language- the silence. If you gave a nod after the other person answered a question, you indicated the answer was sufficient. A raised eyebrow meant the answer wasn't sufficient. And if there was a follow up question? Well, then you'd really messed up.
"Darcy has nightmares?" asked Jane quietly, her voice wavering a little uncertainly.
"It isn't really a surprise," pointed out Pepper softly, her fingers drumming against the side of her cup. "After what she told us concerning her history..."
"Except she said it was in the past," reminded Tony, reaching around Pepper to snatch up a pancake straight from a plate and roll it up before taking a bite. "I mean, she's what, 24 now? And that happened when she was 10?"
"Time doesn't make it go away, Tony," corrected Steve, a little huffier than Clint would have expected. There was something knowing about his words though- and Steve probably would know something about time versus healing. The guy had pretty bad PTSD related to his actions in World War II. He didn't discuss it, didn't let it show, but Clint saw it in the pinch of the soldier's eyes and tensing of his shoulders sometimes when people startled him.
"Steve's right," added in Clint, his eyes falling to the coffee he was making to Darcy's exacting specifications. His voice was steady somehow, though even he wasn't deaf to the dark tone that hugged his words. "Abuse doesn't go away. You can push it back, try to forget it occurred, but the memories never completely go away."
Collecting the cup, Clint headed for the door to the kitchen, leaving the others in his wake. They didn't object or make any move to follow him, either. He wasn't going to hazard a guess at why either; he was just grateful for the quiet. Taking the stairs two at a time, Clint quietly crept down the hall to Darcy's room. He wasn't really sure if she was a light or heavy sleeper, though he'd guess she probably slept pretty lightly based on her history. He couldn't really imagine someone going through all that sleeping heavily or well. Then again, exhaustion might dictate that just as much as personal habits. If he'd been up for multiple nights or slept badly for more than three, he tended to pass out and then even an earthquake couldn't rouse him.
The door to Darcy's room was open when he reached the end of the hall, a fact that momentarily gave him pause until the door right across from her room opened. Which was the point when he nearly dropped the cup of coffee in his hands. Steam accompanied her exit, dancing around her as she padded across the hallway in only a towel, completely ignoring Clint's presence. Or, well, he thought she was until she paused at her door and held out her hand. The pointed, grumpy look she sent him said very clearly she wanted the coffee in his hands, which he happily passed over without a word.
Silently, she took the cup and downed half of it before stepping into her room and closing the door, leaving Clint standing in the hallway attempting to process what just happened and trying not to feel like a dirty old man. It wasn't exactly easy. She'd been in a towel after all and Clint was only human, despite what some people seemed to think. As it was, he was still standing there dumbly when she opened the door again, dressed with the empty coffee cup in hand. She raised one eyebrow in silent prompting but otherwise didn't question his presence, just stepped aside and gestured for him to enter her room. There was a pointed look at his clothing that followed, but no other words.
Right. Clothes. He was still in his sleepwear which, well pretty much clothing, probably wasn't something he wanted to go walk around town in. If only because the shirt was a joke that Natasha had given him, which read: "I love pizza and you" with a heart where the word 'love' should be. Where she'd found it, he wasn't sure or going to ask. The cotton was comfortable and, hey, it was a shirt, even if the gift had been a mocking prod by Natasha at his 'unhealthy' relationship with pizza.
Stepping into the room, he pushed the door shut behind him and grabbed the first shirt in his bag and a pair of jeans. Rapidly, he changed into the fresh clothing and chucked his sleeping clothes into his bag. It sounded silly but he didn't really want to leave Darcy alone with the others for long. He knew they were her friends like they were his, but recent events had highlighted to him why Darcy hadn't told them a lot of things. Namely, it was the fact they didn't seem capable of separating Darcy's past from who she currently was. It was silly, but part of him wanted to protect her from everyone, including their friends. It wasn't that the others were going to be rude to her or knowingly hurt her, but having people walk on egg shells around you wasn't exactly comforting. Tony was the only one who wouldn't and when Tony became the most socially tolerable person in the room, well, there was something wrong.
Hurrying back downstairs, Clint reentered the kitchen to find the others still gathered and Darcy with a second cup of coffee in hand. She didn't look uncomfortable, just mildly irritated. That might be the lack of sleep though. He recalled Jane making a remark once about her former intern being very coffee dependent, which made sense if she had trouble sleeping. How often she struggled to sleep, he wasn't sure, but it was pretty apparent she struggled with sleeping. At least right now she was.
"Hey, bird brain is back," greeted Tony, who'd taken up residence against one of the counters. The genius was smirking, but there was a look in his eyes that Clint wasn't sure he recognized. It was almost like Tony was wordlessly asking him for something, but Clint couldn't imagine what. "Come to join the flock?"
"We aren't all birds, Tony," remarked Steve, his voice irritated as if Tony had just interrupted something. Maybe he had, it was hard to say. If Tony had interrupted something though, Clint suspected it might be a good thing. Particularly if Darcy looked annoyed.
"No, but a third of us can fly," pointed out Tony dismissively, waving his hand a little and picking up a cup from the counter. "It'll be three once I finish bird-brain's hover cycle."
Clint balked a little, everyone else except Darcy shooting Tony surprised looks. She looked pretty casual about the whole thing, sipping her coffee in a way that said she'd known about Tony's apparent project already. It made him wonder if Tony had talked the idea over with Darcy. He couldn't even begin to guess why the genius would talk with Darcy of all people about something like that, but she clearly knew about this somehow.
"Hover cycle?" repeated Natasha, raising a curious eyebrow at Tony. It was the casual look that managed to completely conceal her thoughts on the matter.
"Yeah," confirmed Tony, as if building a cycle that hovered was absolutely no big deal. Which, well, for Tony it probably wasn't. "Got bored one night and though, hell, he's got a bird name and brain, he should be able to fly as well." The look in his eyes belied his casual tone though. The way he met Clint's eyes, the look, told him there was something more going through the genius' mind. That wasn't something Clint was about to explore though. "Besides, you're useless on the ground."
"I feel like I should be offended," stated Clint, shaking his head and pushing Tony's weird attitude out of his head. Delving into the engineer's reasoning was just asking for trouble. Or a migraine. "I can shoot just fine from the ground."
"Yes, that's why Coulson referred to you as his 'eyes in the sky'," snorted Natasha, shaking her head a little as she settled back against the counter. Her eyes were on Darcy though, watching her reaction carefully. It actually upset Clint a little, to see the suspicion in Natasha's eyes. Suddenly, he had a good idea of what had been happening before he walked in the room.
"Eyes in the sky doesn't mean useless on the ground," remarked Darcy as she turned away from the group and set her cup in the sink. Her face was about as relaxed as Clint imagined it could be given the fact that she was still mourning her father's death. Then again, she probably had to hear a lot of that, particularly since no one appeared to know she was Coulson's daughter. "So, what do all of you wanna do?"
The rapid topic change seemed to throw everyone off guard for a moment except Tony, who just rolled with the shift. Almost immediately, he leaned on the island and shrugged. "You're the one from around here, you tell us."
Darcy considered the idea for a moment, seeming to toss the thought around her head before she straightened and gestured in the general direction of the front of the house. "Well, there's a path that runs along the bay and ends in town. We could walk it."
"I think I ran that path this morning," remarked Steve, leaning against the counter beside Natasha. "It's a good trail but it might be a bit long."
"We don't have to walk to town," replied Darcy with a shrug, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the sink. "We could take it down to the park, that's not too far from here. I only said the thing about comfortable shoes because the path is made of wood planks so, you know, heels are kinda a bad idea unless you want to go to the hospital."
"Let's avoid the hospital for a change," stated Pepper, resting a hand lightly on Darcy's shoulder. How Darcy didn't flinch, Clint wasn't sure. He could tell from the way her fingers tensed into a fist that she wasn't really happy about the contact though. "Should we meet outside in fifteen minutes?"
"Fifteen works for me," agreed Darcy, shrugging a bit and using the motion to dislodge Pepper's hand from her shoulder. She stepped around the group then, heading for the living room and presumably the stairs back up to her room. "Again, don't recommend heels."
She was out of the room before anyone else had a chance to comment or argue, leaving the rest of the group to break apart and prepare to leave. Pepper and Jane were out of the room quickly, Pepper likely to change her shoes and Jane to most likely attempt to remember where she put her shoes. Natasha followed with Bruce, neither saying a word as they wondered from the room, leaving Tony, Steve, Clint, and Thor behind.
"Clint," spoke up Thor, catching the archer's attention. The God of Thunder was standing against the counter with his own cup of coffee carefully cradled in his palms. He looked troubled though, an abnormal sight for the Aesir warrior.
"What's up, big guy?" asked Clint, offering his teammate a curious look.
Setting aside the cup, Thor straightened to his full height and held out a hand towards Clint. "I just wished to apologize again for the pain my brother has put you through. I have already apologized to Lady Darcy, though she dismissed the matter without further word and stated it was unnecessary. I hope you shall accept my apology though. I swear to you, my brother was not always as he is now."
"Yeah, being lied to is kinda a game changer," remarked Tony, though again there was that look that said there was something else floating around in his head.
Clint felt himself nodding without realizing it. "Finding out you're another species can't be easy."
as Tony sputtered then, choking a little. "Wait, hold up, another species?"
"Uh, yeah," stated Clint slowly, nodding and not bothering to hide his 'where have you been' look. "Loki isn't even the same species as Thor. He's some enemy species or something like that. He ranted about it. Repeatedly."
"A jotunn," stated Thor quietly, his lips thinning in apparent displeasure and sadness. "The jotunn and aesir have been at war for a very long time."
"Ya know that's kinda fishy right?" asked Tony, cocking an eyebrow. "I mean, no offense to your dad, but taking in the kid of another race you're at war with is kinda fishy."
"Yeah, well, it doesn't mean he gets to brainwash people and try to take over the world," growled Clint, letting the anger he normally kept tightly contained push a little to to the surface. He wrapped himself in that anger, using it as a reminder that he hated the man Thor called 'brother' for everything he'd done wrong.
Pushing away from the counter, Clint headed for the stairs up without a word. He wasn't going to get into this. He couldn't even begin to really consider why Loki had done what he had. He didn't want to understand Loki at all. The man had screwed up his head for the sole purpose of taking over the world. His reasons why didn't matter. Loki had killed Phil and murdered innumerable people. And he'd used Clint to cause some of the damage. No, Clint wasn't going to let any sympathy for the man through; he wasn't going to draw parallels between his own history and Loki's. Nope, not going there. He'd go out with the team, they'd have a nice walk to the park, and he'd put Loki out of his mind. Period.
