TRIGGER WARNING. PLEASE READ TAGS on A03. I don't want to spoil anything that is to come in a chapter, as I don't enjoy trigger warnings that spoil chapter plot lines at the beginning of certain stories I read, and have decided to make an active choice not to do that. HOWEVER, I want every reader to beware. If you have triggers of any kind - assume they ARE included in this story and be careful making the choice to read it or not.
I'm on tumblr - blog/jdramione - I love meeting new people and would love to talk to you!
I am still here. Stay with me. There has been a lot on my plate these past few months, more than I ever intended and nothing at all bad. Just... constant and busy and overwhelming. I've got a family and am building a business and at the end of a long day, there isn't a lot of brain space and creative space that comes when all you can think about is the next thing you need to get done. The semester closed with a bang and then a face plant, and now that I've had several days in front of the TV watching reruns of Downton Abbey and somehow falling back into HP fanfiction, which was my first love and I'm glad to come home to it on some downtime, I have made the sole resolution to myself to set firm boundaries for myself in the upcoming semester. I need to pace and balance, and not dive headfirst and sink too quickly. There is a lot involved in what I do professionally and am building and the work is endless. As such, to come back to this specific story topic is a hard one to dive into and climb out of. With that said, I didn't set any boundaries in the previous month and trampled over my own self. In many ways, I think I did more harm to myself than good, because there does come a place in work where you forget not only how to be present for your family, but you lose yourself somewhere in that. You just become another wheel in the clock, ticking towards the next minute. I didn't sink, and I kept my head above water - I had a big success in December. But somewhere in this semester I allowed myself to get seated in a corner and it felt as if someone had thrown a living room blanket over me, covering me up and hiding me. I was there, but stuck and unable to do more than sit there under a blanket. I'm not sure if that makes sense and I'm not sure I feel fully out of the hole or even myself as of yet. I feel slightly distanced from creativity and it makes me need to grasp onto it all the tighter, the desire to delve into this all the stronger - if only to immerse myself back into creating and artistry and doing something for me that feels like me.
I'm not sure where or how or when, but I will be plowing forward and begging my beta to be present with me along the way this semester. Thank you for being with me on this journey, and with my Beta and friend, Etherea. The story is not abandoned, and I am working towards updates as soon as I feel they are ready. Stay with me - there is so much story to tell and I can't wait to get there all in it's own time.
A HUGE thank you to my Beta and friend, Etherea , whom I love and could not have made it this far without. She's wonderful, simply put, and I'm so thrilled she has held my hand through this amazing process. She just came into my life through this story and has been such a powerhouse in making this story what it is. She has encouraged and supported, motivated and helped me process. She takes me as I am and has been such an enormous part of the process of rewrites and revisions and just helping me make a simple story "more", not only making me a better writer, but helping me in ways I didn't even know to ask for help. She has been the greatest soundboard ever, listening to me go on for novel-length emails, never criticizing or shutting me down, and takes the jumbled mess that I have spiraled on and offers the most amazing insight and helping me narrow down plot points and story arc, when all I feel that I've done is make a mess of things. She's incredible, generous and talented and kind, and I will be FOREVER grateful that she's with me on this journey.
She has written the following, wanting to say hello and introduce herself, and I'm so warmed and glad she has offered:
"Hello faithful readers! Thank you for sticking with us both :) I became the beta for this story as a reader who wanted to help, because I wanted to read more of it. Working across time zones and competing schedules makes it slow going, but I am here with JD til the end of the line, and I'm always excited to see your comments as you discover the next part of the story. And I am LIVING for the fanart, it is so excellent!"
"Shit!" Steve gasped as he watched Bucky grab onto Darcy's good arm, putting a stop to her tumble off of the bed. His other hand cradled her head gently just before it hit the floor, catching her, and he lifted her back up. She was frighteningly underweight, not that she had weighed much to begin with. He could feel the outline of her ribs under his hand.
"Got ya, doll," Bucky said as he laid her limp body back into bed, rolling her gently onto her side so she'd be comfortable when she woke up. Steve hurried over to the bed and picked up her wrist, feeling out her pulse. It was erratic and fast. Darcy's skin was clammy and ghostly pale.
"JARVIS - ON. Passcode 001942," Steve said firmly, glancing apologetically at Bucky. Bucky froze, his eyes shifting away from Steve as his metal arm clenched into a fist.
"All systems activated for Rogers' and Barnes' Quarters." JARVIS's disembodied voice filled the room. "How may I be of service?"
"Run a full diagnostic on Darcy Lewis," Steve ordered.
"Of course, sir," JARVIS replied. "Running diagnostic now."
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure," Bucky said, though the way his jaw worked as he fought off his unease made Steve think that he might have some idea of what. Bucky brushed a piece of hair out of Darcy's face as he carefully checked her over, pressing his metal hand against her throat, counting her heartbeats. He glanced warily at Steve.
"Talk to me, Buck."
Bucky's expression darkened.
"I can see you drawing up a strategy in that big head of yours; fill me in when you're ready."
The tension in Bucky's body was visible.
"I think she still feels trapped, even here. We're…" Steve watched him as he hesitated. "The two of us, I mean," Bucky stumbled slightly looking at Steve and then himself, before sighing in defeat. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I think she's scared of us, Steve."
"Then we'll earn her trust, Buck. Whatever it takes."
The two of them had done enough missions together to know what they each weren't saying. No matter what he said about this course of action, regardless of the sparse intel available, Bucky would continue to shelter Darcy from harm unless he found someone he thought could do it better. And Bucky knew that Steve was going over every option, mulling over each thread of action and outcome, until he had selected the strongest ones to twist together into a strategy, into reins by which he could steer events rather than letting them run wild.
"Darcy Lewis' scan is now complete," JARVIS interjected. "Mr. Stark has uploaded her medical files into my system so that I have a complete assessment. Medically speaking, she is in the same condition as upon arrival. Ms. Lewis appears to have fainted — possibly due to stress, but more likely due to exhaustion. She is otherwise healing in normal parameters."
Bucky's eyes swept over Darcy and he swallowed thickly.
"We've gotta get her to rest, Steve," he said softly. He reached up and scratched at the back of his neck. "She's just waking up in a panic and then passing out again, not getting any actual rest."
"And she's too tired to deal with the reasons she's having the nightmares that wake her up in a panic," Steve continued warily.
"She's only truly sleeping when we drug her down, Stevie," Bucky murmured. "And I'm not sure that counts…" He looked down at her with soft eyes. "We gotta do something."
"Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark or Dr. Banner?" JARVIS asked. Bucky shifted, teeth grinding as his jaw clenched.
"Give us a sec, JARVIS," Steve said, putting a hand on his forehead and rubbing it. "Let me think. Buck —"
"Based on my analysis of her previous REM patterns, my scans inform me that Ms. Lewis will be waking up in the next few minutes," JARVIS interrupted.
"Notify Bruce that Darcy has fainted," Steve said resolutely, "and that she is waking up. Send him the scans. He can communicate his recommendations."
"Yes sir," JARVIS replied. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain Rogers?"
"Standby, JARVIS," Steve told him, eyes sweeping over to Bucky; the tight shoulders and averted gaze spoke volumes about Bucky's discomfort at having the AI listening in the background..
"Of course, sir," JARVIS agreed.
"What's your color, Buck?" Steve demanded.
Bucky paused as he took a shaky breath, taking stock. "Green," he said quietly. "Yellow-ish, too." He glanced at Steve, who, for all his age and experience, was looking somewhat lost. "I don't know. It's hard to… But I'm mostly green. For right now."
He looked at Darcy. "I'm trying."
Steve nodded, his own eyes checking Bucky over. "You speak up if that changes."
Bucky nodded shortly, then fixed his gaze on the floor again.
Steve leaned closer to Darcy, gently pushing a stray piece of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.
"So what's the plan, Steve?" Bucky asked, examining the bandages on Darcy's cheek. It seemed he and Steve had the same idea about making the most of her unconsciousness to give her a thorough once-over. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than sending her into a panic.
"For today?" Steve shifted towards him, resting his hands on his hips. Bucky tipped his head. "I want to get some food in her, to start with."
Bucky nodded.
"I also think she would rest easier if she could…take a shower?" Steve's voice lifted as he formed the sentence, sounding as if he was asking the question even to himself. "I'm actually not sure if that will end up being a good thing at the moment or not…but…"
"The nurses wiped her down good at the hospital - best as they could, at least - before her surgery," Bucky murmured.
"Natasha said they didn't get too far when she went in to help. That she'd tried to pace it on Darcy's terms, but that she wouldn't… I mean, you know Nat, she didn't exactly say what Darcy wouldn't do, but it was implied. Darcy wouldn't… wouldn't touch… ah hell, I can't even say it."
"Wouldn't touch where they raped her." Bucky's voice was flat, quiet, matter-of-fact. It was almost the Soldier's voice. Steve paused, knowing to tread carefully with Bucky when he saw the beginning signs of dissociation.
"Yeah. While it wasn't more than a bird bath, Nat seemed proud of her anyway, like they got further than she'd expected, considering. She told me to trust my gut, tread carefully, and to follow the cues Darcy gives us."
Steve trailed off. He looked over for reassurance; Bucky was looking at Darcy now instead of the floor, and chewing contemplatively on his bottom lip.
"What do you think, Buck?" Steve asked him.
"Yeah, to both of those things," Bucky replied quietly. He paused for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. "She's been in a… grimy cell for weeks, Steve," he said, his voice rough. "And then stuck in a hospital bed with no more than a half-assed sponge bath for another week."
Steve watched him carefully, waiting patiently for him to continue.
"When you're held somewhere like that…" Bucky trailed off and stared far away before continuing. "It gets in under your skin. Even after a wipe down you still... feel it. Still feel dirty even if you don't look it." Bucky blinked and shook his head, as if hoping to shake off the memory that made it so easy for him to empathise with Darcy. "Bruce said she needed a shower, if we could manage it, to at the very least help prevent the spread of infection. We gotta keep her safe, even if that means stepping over her lines until she can do it herself."
"She'll feel better clean, even if it's gonna be a rough go of it," he told Steve gruffly, failing to meet Steve's laser-focused gaze. "If we can get her into some warm water, it might help relax her enough to get some shut eye."
Steve nodded, apprehensively. "At the very least, it might help steady her."
"Maybe we can get Natasha again to try and…"
"Agent Romanoff is currently deployed along with Agent Barton, on a mission for Shield." JARVIS interrupted, startling him mid-sentence, causing Bucky to jerk back away from Darcy. He moved fast, getting halfway across the room before Steve could even blink. Bucky's body tensed, ready for a fight, his eyes darting around the room, as a deadly stillness crept into his limbs. Steve was already on defense, wariness setting in as he also stood slowly, preparing to use force if necessary to pull Bucky back into the present.
"My apologies, Sergeant Barnes," JARVIS added contritely. "Your heart rate is accelerating…"
"Thank you, JARVIS," Steve cut the AI off, taking a careful step towards Bucky, trying not to telegraph his focus on the Soldier's posturing. "Remain on standby."
He forced his body language to be as relaxed and open as he could, as he carefully made his way towards his friend. One slow step, and then another, while Bucky eyed him warily, looking ready to bolt - or fight - at a moment's notice. On the plus side, Bucky appeared to make no effort to move further away. But he also didn't take a step towards Steve. His face had gone blank, and Steve knew this was when he had to be the most careful around Buck. The fight or flight instinct was deeply ingrained, and either way the result was likely to be violent. Steve would do whatever necessary to ensure he could de-escalate the situation as quickly as possible, with the least amount of damage.
"Easy, easy, Buck. It's okay. You're safe here." He closed in, stepping purposefully between Bucky and Darcy as he eased into Bucky's space, and slowly reached up, telegraphing every movement, as he gripped Bucky at the back of the neck in an effort to help ground him.
"When you touch me…when the touch is kind," Bucky had stammered.
"It's alright, Buck," Steve had reminded him gently. "Take your time."
The evening had ended with the two of them watching a film in their quarters, Bucky settling in on the floor leaning against Steve's legs; he'd had a rough go of it that day. His anxiety had been through the roof, set off by nothing and everything all at once, and he'd been unable to handle being around the group that evening. Some days were more overwhelming than others. Steve, overly observant as always and taking it, like most things he did, in stride, had simply reached out and grasped his hand gently. He'd pulled Bucky up from his spot on the floor and had them both moving towards the elevator as Steve gave their farewells. A chorus of "goodnights" and "see you guys in the morning" followed them out; every one of them knew what it was like to just need to be...away.
Steve had pushed Bucky gently, so gently, against the wall of the elevator and pressed his body into Bucky's, chest to toe, leaning on him rather than really hugging him. Bucky could already feel his stuttering breath calming just from feeling Steve's weight against him.
When the elevator had dinged, Steve had slipped a hand behind Bucky's back and pulled him down the hall and into their apartment. He'd talked the whole time, speaking softly about this recipe he'd found on Pinterest. Darcy, upon learning that neither of them could bake, had remedied that problem immediately, demanding that they join her in both the app and in the kitchen. She had, in her words, 'no patience for any 1940s gender role nonsense they might be smuggling.'
When it was just the two of them, Bucky and Steve, Steve would allow his more natural Brooklyn/Irish cadence to seep through. Just listening to the phrasing, the lilt and rhythm of his words, everything about it was tantalisingly familiar. A feeling somehow both impossible to forget, and not quite remembered, would come sweeping over Bucky, and just like that he could breathe again.
Steve had sat down on the couch, briefly letting go of Bucky; he'd tried to let Bucky choose where he wanted to be, when he was like this. Sometimes he sat on the furthest edge of the couch, not wanting to be touched, but unwilling to be alone. Other times he would sit practically on top of Steve (which was frankly how Steve preferred it),insatiably touch-hungry even as they were plastered together. And then there were times like this one, where Bucky needed to feel touch, but not feel seen. He'd put himself on a different level to Steve, literally, on the floor at his feet. There, he could just "be" until the world stopped feeling too big, and he could once again regain his focus.
This night had been one of those days, and Bucky had quickly settled on the floor, taking long minutes to feel comfortable enough to ease back against Steve's legs. When he got there, he released a breath he'd apparently been holding and sagged, trusting Steve to hold his weight and keep him steady.
Steve had reached out as soon as he had felt Bucky relax against him, and had begun pulling his fingers through Bucky's long hair, feeling the softness slide through his fingertips from root to end, before repeating the movement, fascinated with how the different shades of brown and auburn and black shifted between his fingers.
"It helps," Bucky had whispered.
"What helps?" Steve had whispered back, not pausing in his ministrations, keeping up the gentle petting, his need to keep whatever Bucky had to say secret, private, these frozen and rare moments of time when Bucky would open up and tell Steve something… anything, really. Bucky was so unaccustomed to keeping things inside, unable or unwilling to let anything escape. Steve was beginning to understand that most of the time, the pain was just too much, and speaking of certain things caused more pain and anguish than just holding Bucky and allowing him to process it internally. It was always a thin precipice that Steve walked, always worried that he might push too hard or worse, not enough, when Bucky needed to let something out. Most often, he'd found that waiting Bucky out, patiently and gently, that Bucky would at least open up in pieces, enough that Steve could usually put together what he was saying, or more, what he didn't say, to understand what Bucky needed to tell him.
"Touch," he had replied, brokenly. "Your touch helps ground me when I can't reach out for it."
Steve's eyes filled with unshed tears, but he steadied his voice when he replied, "I'll always reach for you, Buck. Always."
Steve could feel Bucky's quickened breath, his trembling, nervous energy, now that he had his hands on him.
Bucky's eyes had narrowed as Steve approached, but now that Steve was standing in front of him, blocking everything else out and appearing calm and unthreatening, he had allowed Steve's touch. Good, Steve thought, he wasn't totally gone yet, then. Steve took that opportunity and pulled him gently, but bodily against him, chest to chest. He felt Bucky's accelerated heartbeat against his own and felt him tense further as Steve held him close, gripping him tightly as he squeezed his hand on Bucky's neck.
Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Bucky sagged against him, a huff of breath leaving him as he relaxed against the Captain.
"I've got you."
Turning his nose into Steve's neck, Bucky breathed in, calming.
"Natalia and Barton are on a mission?" Bucky mumbled against Steve's collarbone peeking out through his shirt in an effort to stay present, his nose brushing against Steve's neck and he breathed in deeply, Steve's scent helping to ground him.
"What mission, JARVIS?" Steve questioned calmly, as he nuzzled Bucky in return, holding him close.
"They believe there is a lead on Ms. Lewis' kidnapping case." Bucky tensed in his arms. "Transferring data to your private server now, Captain."
Steve's eyes narrowed. "Transfering data in, JARVIS?" he questioned. "You can access our private server? I thought Tony had isolated us entirely from his internal servers."
"Captain, that information is not entirely accurate," JARVIS responded. "Allow me to notify Mr. Stark…"
Before Steve could question JARVIS further, Bucky shoved away from him, breathing rapidly, bracing himself in a fighting stance. His eyes darkened as they darted around the room, as if the light that made Bucky Bucky had diminished, hardening into someone else. Something else.
"Captain Rogers, shall I contact Mr. Stark regarding Sergeant Barnes? Scans indicate increasing distress."
"JARVIS, what? Of course not..." Steve responded, turning to him with concern, but wary as he lifted his arms defensively, palms facing upwards as he shifted to put himself between Bucky and Darcy once again, this time, more protectively.
"Buck," he started, eyes wide and cautious…
"No, I can't do this. This location is compromised, we have to get out! Steve, it's not safe here," Bucky growled, jaw clenching as he struggled, desperately clinging to himself, fighting off the Soldier.
"You are safe, buddy. No one's coming. It's alright," Steve murmured as he stood frozen, helpless. One wrong move and everything could go south too quickly. Damn it, he'd just had him in his arms. Bucky would be horrified when he came out of it - Steve didn't want to think about what this might do to him, to the growing confidence he had been slowly building up. And Darcy… Steve held his breath as anxiety rolled over him, feeling his already-frantic heartbeat pick up. He could feel the tension tight in his chest and shoulders, his body preparing for a fight he hoped wouldn't happen. Forcing himself to stay exactly where he was, he took a careful breath. Bucky's super soldier ears were just as sensitive as his own, so he tried valiantly to sound relaxed. Unthreatening. Normal. He might as well be trying to hold onto a handful of water. Breathe deeply, he told himself, forcing himself to relax enough to let air fill his lungs.
"Take a moment. Breathe. Look around you," Steve couldn't tell if anything he said was getting through, and watched Bucky crouch with clenched fists, preparing to fight an enemy that wasn't there. Steve bit down on his lip, watching warily. He wasn't even sure if Bucky was aware he was there anymore.
"Darcy's with us, pal." Steve maintained a calm expression, hoping it outweighed his wide, panicked eyes. There was nothing he could do to calm the speed of his heartbeat, try as he might to feel inwardly what he was desperately putting on outwardly. Bucky would be able to hear it, and would use Steve's panic as evidence that he was right to feel unsafe, not grasping that it was Bucky's behavior… or rather the Soldier's potentially threatening behavior, causing Steve's anxiety. It was a vicious cycle that didn't bode well in their current standing, not with Darcy so close, so helpless.
Steve couldn't even think right now of how he would deal with Darcy's added terror if the Soldier did something he couldn't foresee or control...
Bucky's breathing didn't slow. He grabbed his head with both hands, as though he could shake the terror out of it. Their eyes met, and Steve felt immediately like he was being swept off his feet by the waves of fear that ticked and twitched across Bucky's face.
"The AI, Steve…" His eyes darted unsteadily around the room.
"I know and you are safe with me. It's alright, Buck. You can do this, push him back." Steve took a step toward Bucky, heart racing, hoping like hell he was taking the right course. Steve held a hand out without touching or crowding, schooling his nerves to steadiness and allowing Bucky as much time as he needed to track and process his every move, until his hand hovered gently over Bucky's jaw.
Something soft and vulnerable settled on Bucky's features as he looked at Steve. While fear and distrust fought a war in Bucky's eyes, his face turned toward Steve, and he surrendered to the bond that had kept the two of them connected through war and ice and time. Making a difficult choice, his eyes half-closed and he leaned into Steve's touch. His shoulders sagged and he leaned fully against Steve, trusting him to hold his weight.
Relief flooded Steve. That was a good sign. "Look at me, please," Steve murmured softly, pulling Bucky all the closer, holding him tightly. Bucky obeyed.
"It's you and me here, pal," Steve said, trying to infuse his words with a strength and calm he didn't truly feel. "I'm not gonna let anything hurt you." It didn't take long for the man to start shaking in his arms. It didn't seem to matter that Steve concentrated on being calm, or whispered that he was safe and no one would hurt him. Bucky didn't know that. Not right now. Steve drew in a breath and took a different approach.
"Darcy's here and we gotta help her, Buck."
Bucky took a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Stevie, don't know if I can…" he whispered, eyes darting around the room. Steve felt the silent plea through the frantic grip on his arms, for him to help, to make this right, to give Bucky answers and assurances even if he wasn't sure they were true.
"You have to fight this, Buck." Steve tilted his head, looking down at him, expression serious. "Darcy needs us and we need JARVIS. Without us right now, she's all alone. Or rather, she'd be with Tony ." Bucky let out a soft breath of laughter.
"She needs us," Steve repeated with conviction, "and I know from the second we found her, we knew we were in this for the long haul. I don't know about you, but I don't intend on handing her over to anyone else. I won't presume to say what Darcy wants, but I think we need to help her as much as she needs us. I know we got the tools to do it, and we're both too stubborn to stop once we've set our sights on helping someone." He sighed. "I don't gotta tell you all this, you know it." Bucky nodded against Steve's shoulder, tucking his face into Steve's neck and breathed in. "We made a decision, that day in the hospital, together." Bucky breathed in deeply.
"We've been through hell and back, through a couple different circles each, with no reason as to why. I sure would like to make something good out of all the bad we survived. If she was a stranger, you and I both know we'd still be here helping her, because we are maybe some of the very few who truly can.
"But it's Darcy, so it's more than that. I know we haven't talked about it much, not to one another and at least for me, it's not even something I truly acknowledged to myself until she was gone… but… she is important . To me. I can't fully explain it, but Buck… she was just there one day, and it was like she'd always belonged with me. Made me feel like somebody. Made me feel like I could have a home here. Almost like I went away to war and she was waiting for me when I got back.
"And then I got you back, and everything just sorta clicked into place for me. Like we were headed in a direction we were always meant to be goin' in. She's goddamn special, and I know you feel it too." Steve looked down. "I realized when they took her, that I hadn't told her how much she had become to me. Hadn't said a word. I don't know what she must even think about me, or you, or us. But I didn't give away anything, I was scared. I didn't know how to deal with all the things I was feeling, and then I had you back, and it was selfish of me to want more …"
He looked at Bucky beseechingly. "She's so fucking important to me, Buck. I don't know what that means more than that. That's all I got right now. But I know - I feel it in my gut - that I gotta be here for her, and you - that she needs us both to be here.
She's got nobody, and…" Steve choked up. "After my Ma died, and you came after me when the funeral was over, after I watched them put her in the ground and couldn't bear it anymore and left," he looked at Bucky, "and you came after me and told me I had a place with you." His voice trembled. "I only got through that 'cause you were with me. And then on that...the day of the train," he stumbled. "I was alone. I couldn't bear it. And damn it, I woke up here and I was alone all over again." Tears slid down his cheeks. "I didn't think I'd make it a day, or the one after that, not without you with me. But then Tony was there, and Thor, and the rest of the Avengers, and they became a family to me." And then Steve smiled, through his tears. "And then Darcy showed up. She held my hand until you came back to me, Buck." He sighed, his heart heavy. "I wouldn't have made it without her. 'Cause even finding a new family like I did, I was so lost. And she was a candle in the dark." He glanced back at Darcy. "She's hurt now, and lost. We took her out of a dark place but she brought some of it with her. You and I, we know you don't just shake that sorta thing off. I don't just want to be here for her, I gotta . I saw it at the hospital, when you knew what she needed without even knowing you did. We can do this for her, and we both know she'd do the same thing for us."
It hurt Steve, to push him like this, like he was betraying him and choosing someone else above Bucky's needs. He held Bucky all the tighter, a restraint as much as a warm reassurance, as he moved closer, pressing a kiss on Bucky's cheek while he rubbed circles into his back. As big as Bucky was, and strong, Steve was still the larger of the two. He reveled in it, as he always did, the feeling of Bucky small and vulnerable in his arms. It didn't occur often, Bucky leaning into Steve's strength, allowing himself to trust without fear, knowing Steve would have him, hold him, until he was on even keel again.
"I can do this alone if I need to," Steve said gently. "If it's too much, just say the word. And whatever you need will be okay, Buck. But I'd rather do it with ya, pal."
Heartbreak suffused Bucky's expression at that, and he looked up to Steve. A child lost, terrified and confused. Withdrawn and afraid. Bucky trembled. "It's okay," Steve whispered, a calm voice that was contrary to the feelings in his eyes. He could be strong for him, strong for them both. "I'm gonna keep you safe, pal."
Bucky drew in a shaky breath, looking at Steve now, proving to him that he had found his footing, showing Steve that he could do this. That Steve could count on him. "When I found her like that…" he couldn't go on. Not yet. "She's important to me too, Steve."
Steve nodded against him.
"How are we gonna do this?" he whispered after a pause.
"Between you and I," Steve encouraged softly, expression warm and comforting, "we're gonna figure out what will make Darcy feel safe here — even if it's just for a few moments at a time."
"Normalcy and routine helped me the most," Bucky croaked, struggling as he gripped Steve's hand tightly in his, holding him close, desperate for anything to help ground him. Bucky reached up and rubbed away the stray tears that had escaped on his other sleeve. "You know that.
Steve nodded, letting him take whatever strength from him he needed.
"She hasn't talked yet," Steve said, his thumb rubbing gently against Bucky's hand held in his as he looked over to her, his voice tinged with anger, or something darker, like a promise of retribution. "Not really."
Bucky glanced over at Darcy as well. "She's not ready to talk yet," he said softly.
"I don't like not knowing her boundaries," Steve glanced at him uneasily. "We could hurt her... more…" he trailed off. "Without even meaning to. We don't even know what triggers she has because she's not communicating. God, I can't handle the thought of accidentally causing her further pain."
"I don't think she knows her own boundaries right now to begin to try and tell us," Bucky told him. "They're all… jumbled up. We knew this was going to be hard, Steve. You can do this - we can do this. Like you did with me."
Steve's heart broke watching Bucky pull himself back together. He had come so far. He'd been so afraid. After all he'd gone through. It hurt like hell thinking about all the years he'd slept under the ice, while Bucky was put through unimaginable torture. Steve felt like he'd gotten off easy. Even now that they were here, together, it felt like he was still curled around a grenade, not knowing if or when it would go off, hoping his willingness to take a hit would be enough to protect the ones closest to him.
"We provide whatever she needs the most to feel safe. Right now, Buck, that does seem to be with you." Bucky looked away, but nodded.
"She needs space to heal on her own terms. First thing for right now, we need to make sure she isn't in pain while she's healing. Her body has been through…" he struggled, unable to voice it. "Her body needs to heal first. For the rest, we create a safe space for her to recover, and try to allow her the opportunity to open up as much as she can, when she can."
He didn't say how much worse it would be if she kept her pain inside until it became part of her body. It was something Bucky struggled with daily; Steve could always see it, whether it was simmering under the surface or so unbearable he was screaming it out. The way Bucky held himself coiled tight, holding himself together, and the way he exhaled in Steve's arms and let himself be held, were transformative experiences for them both.
"It will take time before she feels safe here. Longer than that before she believes it," he whispered, his shaking subsiding as he brought his emotions back under control.
"That's not going to happen today… or anytime soon," Steve said, shaking his head, and trying yet again to pull out of the dark spiral his thoughts threatened to twist into. None of them could afford the luxury of Steve wallowing in his guilt; he had to keep both of them anchored in the present, in safety and sanity. Navigating Darcy's trust was going to be the most challenging obstacle. The fact that they were both men didn't help; some of the hospital staff had objected strenuously, and Steve was thankful the rest of the team had backed them up. The circumstances of her rescue, and Bucky and Steve's own very personal experiences with trauma recovery, weren't enough to convince every doctor. In the end, it was Darcy herself who made the clinching argument; as close as Bucky stuck to her, she seemed to pull towards him in equal measure. In her sleep, she reached for Bucky, held onto him and calmed at his touch, when not even Steve could approach her.
It was something Steve in particular would have to tread carefully in regards to. The idea of her being… afraid of him, made him sick to his stomach. Insecurities threatened to overwhelm him as he tried to envision all of the things they would need to do for her, just basic things, and how they were to go about it without making things worse for her..
"Maybe the shower isn't a good idea," he said, worriedly, allowing some of his doubts to air out. "We shouldn't push anything. I just… feel the need to do something for her… anything, really," he gestured vaguely, and combed helpless fingers through his hair, "to make her feel even marginally better. Maybe we can get her to talk. Fuck, I don't know. I don't think she's gonna, Buck. She hasn't been able to say more than a few words, much less been able to handle anyone's presence much since we got her out of that," he could hardly spit it out, "that fucking place."
He hated this feeling of helplessness. He'd felt it too many times in his life, both young and old, at the same time. Before, when Buck had fallen off the train, or with Peggy when he was forced to put that goddamn plane in the water. When he'd woken up, alone, or when he'd found Bucky and they'd put him in that cell. Finding Darcy like they had - it piled up. It often felt like he was carrying heavy boulders upon his shoulders, and he was sinking deeper into the ground as if trudging through quicksand from the weight of it. He could only carry so much, could only keep walking this path of life for so long before it all became too much. Right? But he had to keep going, he had to be strong, had to lead.
They needed him.
Bucky shook his head, seeing that terrible emptiness in Steve's eyes that he got sometimes, and took that moment of vulnerability on Steve's part to reach up, and tug Steve a little closer, grabbing onto the back of his neck and pulling until their heads banged gently together.
"No, I didn't mean for us to get her to talk to us or open up," he murmured, his breath soft against Steve's lips. Steve exhaled, harshly. "Or to tell us what she went through. Of course it's not going to happen today. She's not remotely near ready for that. She'll do it in her time, when she's ready. A shower would help her right now, I think. If we can get her on board with it."
Steve mumbled his assent, fingers caressing Bucky's wrist now, holding on and keeping him close.
"Maybe we can give her some distance from the fear for a little while?" Bucky offered.
Steve gave Bucky a small squeeze before he stepped back, crossing his arms as he thumbed his own chin in consideration. "Distance her how?" His voice was almost back to normal, even if his eyes were anything but.
Buck's arms dropped to his sides as he thought for a moment. "Normalcy and routine, like I said. Getting a rhythm to the days, maybe a rough schedule of sorts- something she can track, meals and movement, that's what I remember helping most at first. Other than you being here, 'course."
His voice lowered as he glanced around the bedroom, still clearly on edge. "It'll help me, too… if we are gonna keep JARVIS…"
Steve swallowed hard and gave him a serious, hard look before glancing down at Darcy. His shoulders hunched, stress evident as he weighed the needs of both Darcy as well as Bucky's mental health and stability. "I think we gotta leave JARVIS on for now, Buck." He stole an apologetic look back at Bucky, "She's just too… fragile right now. We may need help. Legitimate, emergency help."
Bucky went quiet. The clock from the living room ticked quietly, but it echoed in the silence.
"What if I can't handle it, Steve," he asked warily.
Steve didn't have a good response to that. But he pushed forward, lacing his fingers together and sighing. "She needs us, pal."
Bucky nodded slowly. "I'll just have to… deal," he said slowly, worriedly, glancing down at Darcy. "For her…I think maybe, I..." he trailed off, overwhelmed with indecision.
"Just try, pal," Steve pleaded. "I'm here," he reminded him. "I'm gonna take care of you both." He raised their hands, kissing the back of Bucky's.
"Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes. Ms. Lewis will wake momentarily," interrupted JARVIS.
Bucky froze in place, then shuddered violently as his face went dull and hauntingly blank. Steve watched him shift and shuffle, struggling to try and find himself between the mission and the threat. Between Darcy and JARVIS.
Steve could tell he was fighting with himself, desperately trying to ignore the way his body was screaming for him to get the hell out of there, or to stay, fight, and protect. The need to keep her safe outweighed all other options. The mission always came first. Steve recognized Bucky go through what appeared to be one of his therapy checklists as he watched Bucky recognise the state his body was in, actively took note of where he was, and forced himself to take a deep, grounding breath.
Bucky shook his head minutely in an effort to clear his thoughts. "We can't leave her in this room, Stevie," he said gruffly, desperately trying to stay present. "Let's put her on the couch in the living room. We can make it comfortable enough for her, set up some bedding and some pillows. Kind of like we used to when you were sick. Make dinner, hopefully get her to eat something, and we'll go from there."
Steve nodded carefully, his eyes glued to Bucky, whose eyes were in turn fixed on Darcy. Steve couldn't look away; Bucky wouldn't.
"I'm trying, Steve," is all he said before Darcy groaned, her casted hand flinging out away from her, as if batting something away. Steve caught her hand and tucked it gently beside her before she could come in contact with anything that might cause her pain.
"All we can ever do, pal," Steve replied, and for a moment things felt almost normal between them. Bucky felt it too, he could tell. An iota of the tension drained out of Bucky, and he nodded, resolute.
"Alright, here we go," Bucky said. "Let's try to move her real quick - it's gonna hurt her. Shit, every time we fucking move her, it's gonna cause her actual pain." He growled in frustration.
"There's no way to get around it," Steve said calmly, his confidence growing as he knelt down beside her. "We gotta do the best we can here."
He turned his attention to Darcy. "Darcy, sweetheart,we're just gonna move you to the couch in the living room," he murmured to her softly. "We think you'll be more comfortable there.
Darcy frowned in her sleep, pain obvious in her expression at being moved.
"We're not gonna to leave you alone in here, not after you passed out, so we're gonna carry you out to the living room," Steve told her as he reached under her legs and behind her neck. "Gonna be quick, trying not to hurt you." She barely weighed anything at all as he slowly, gently, lifted her into his arms.
She groaned softly..
"It's alright, doll," his chest rumbling against her ear as he tucked her head under his chin. "You're okay now, Bucky and me - we gotcha, ain't gonna let nothing get to you here."
"Your Brooklyn is showing, Stevie," Bucky smirked as he grabbed a blanket from Darcy's bed and followed Steve into the living room.
"Shut up, jerk," Steve grumbled lightly.
"Make me, punk," Buck shot back, smiling.
Jane had been sitting there for over two hours, by Tony's count. Well, two hours in that spot, anyway; she'd spent the better part of the day staring out at the city from a window seat, before moving to the kitchen, listlessly pouring herself another cup of coffee and planted herself on a stool at the kitchen island. To which she then hadn't moved from the island stool for over two hours and counting.
Something about the way she was acting had bothered Tony enough to have JARVIS keep tabs on her after Thor left. For a man of science, he also tended to trust his gut more often than not, and his gut was being loudly concerned about Jane.
With everyone else preoccupied with Darcy, be it her recovery or seeking out her captors, Jane had been left alone, to her own devices. That should have meant things were back to business as usual, not that anything felt "back to normal" in any capacity. But it was the state she and Tony, and even Bruce occasionally, tended to default to. It looked exceptionally lonely from the outside, the isolated genius routine, but what it actually was, or at least could be, was peaceful. An escape even.
On the flip side, it could also be the opposite of what could be considered breathing room. The isolation could lead to the spiraling of negative thoughts. While alcohol tended to be Tony's preferred choice of dealing with the stress and anxiety of negative feelings, he didn't know Jane's coping skills for when things got shitty when Darcy wasn't there. Darcy, usually via way of distraction, was often Jane's way of dealing with all things challenging, and more often than not, the simple day to day motions of eating, sleeping, bathing, etc…
Thank God for Pepper.
So Tony had decided to do the watch-and-wait approach towards Jane, checking in with JARVIS regularly to make sure she wasn't operating outside of what was considered "normal parameters." JARVIS hadn't alerted Tony once yet regarding Jane's behavior because technically, she wasn't doing anything outside the norm.
She hadn't done anything .
Barely even moved, even from one location to the next.
She was simply drifting. Not eating, not sleeping, not talking. Just zoning out and staring at things.
And that was very much not how Jane operated.
She wasn't consuming anything but coffee, which was actually pretty normal in Tony's book, but thanks to JARVIS' monitoring she'd exceeded his own impressive personal record of Days Survived On Coffee Alone.
Most disturbing of all, she wasn't doing anything with all that caffeinated energy. No math-doing, no note-taking, no Olympic-level word vomit that rivalled Tony's own as she talked herself through another Nobel-worthy physics puzzle.
All the habits that drove Tony crazy combined to make what Darcy had named the "Crazy Science Tornado." Tony didn't think of himself as an overly anxious person, but waiting for Jane to show some sign of storm activity was making him jittery, and not in the good coffee-related way.
She should be jumping between projects, jotting down formulas on the wall, piecing things together with duct tape (Tony still shook his head in horror at that. She had been given a billion-dollar, state of the art laboratory, and still… he couldn't get her to stop with the fucking duct tape.)
Darcy had been there through it all. Tony had amused himself on more than one occasion by watching Jane flit around in a Science Panic, Darcy strolling calmly in her wake, holding a fork up to Jane's face and shoving food in between words. Everywhere Jane went, Darcy followed, filing her notes and taking photographs of the work on the walls or windows when Jane's overzealous antics got ahead of her ability to find paper and pencil.
Occasionally a timer would go off on Darcy's phone, and she would kindly, but firmly, yank Jane away from her work, artfully counteracting her attempts to grab paper and pen to keep working. Eventually, Jane wound up being shoved into her own quarters, and given orders to shower, sleep, and at least stay in her room for the next eight hours, asleep if possible. And Jane, shockingly, did as she was told.
Darcy, having proclaimed herself Jane's "wrangler" (and having Jane begrudgingly confirm that she does in fact occasionally need a little help taking care of little things like 'eating') Darcy set out to expand her stable. Tony, much to his delight, had also been deemed a Crazy Scientist. He was thinking of having team shirts made.
Somehow Bruce had escaped any such label, which was offensive and Tony had profusely argued that Bruce was possibly the craziest of all when he truly lost himself into the deep and dirty of whatever project he'd worked himself into. The man could disappear for days on end, rivaling even the worst of Tony's obsessive workshop benders, devoted into his experiments, but for the sheer fact that Bruce tended to make sure he ate, drank, and slept during said obsessive benders, Darcy had proclaimed him the sanest of the three and therefore, hadn't required him a title worthy of needing a "wrangler" as Darcy so sarcastically had phrased it.
Less than a week into her residence in the tower, Tony got a first-hand look at what it felt like to be wrangled. Being dragged bodily away from work that was very important , actually, while being scolded by a petite persistent powerhouse like Darcy, was borderline offensive. He especially did not enjoy Bruce's amused half-smirk and farewell wave. As she marched him towards his quarters, Darcy informed him that JARVIS had been keeping her updated, and that he'd hit 34 hours without sleep. If he didn't follow her self-care orders, furthermore, she had threatened to have his bathroom visits monitored, too. Like he wasn't an adult who could do what he wanted. And she had the gall to say all this with a tone of complaint , talking about how offensive it was to leave her with yet another crazy scientist.
Darcy had shoved him into his bedroom, drolling commands at JARVIS like she'd lived in the tower her entire life, and took them up to his penthouse as he blurrily stared at her, too tired to fully comprehend what was happening but aware enough that he should be feeling very offended. She'd shoved him into his bed, with him mumbling arguments the entire time about how she was crazy and this was his tower and he was an adult who could do what he wanted, when he wanted, because he was Tony Stark…
He couldn't lie; he was still devoted, completely and passionately, to Pepper, even as he fumed at being put to bed like a child, he noticed plenty of things did have the thought that he wouldn't mind watching her walk around his bedroom every day. She continued in spite of his protests until he was in bed and under the covers, then she gave him a peck on the forehead and he couldn't notice anything but her. As she dimmed the lights and walked away, she gave a quirky half-smile over her shoulder and said, "Night night, crazy scientist."
Yeah, he could fall for her, in another life.
But seeing Jane now, without her wrangler, without her friend … it was heartbreaking. His brain began reviewing notes and cataloging facts of seeing Jane the past few days.
She had been silent since leaving the hospital the other day. And still.
Which only meant one thing.
She was hurting, she'd completely shut down, and she was currently all alone.
Jane, the brilliant Dr. Foster was in his tower, and therefore, he felt responsible for her well-being. Darcy would find her current state unacceptable, and so in her stead, Tony felt the need to fill a missing piece.
He didn't cook often, and it was an even rarer occasion for him to cook for someone else… but JARVIS had updated him before his arrival that it had been a long time since she'd last eaten anything. Too long for even a Stark, and he could go quite a long time before remembering to eat. Or until Darcy dragged him out of his lab. Or Bruce physically put something he'd made under Tony's face as he tinkered and then waited until the smells of said delicious, homemade food drew Tony's attention from his work. It was usually then, and only then, that his stomach would growl fiercely and his body would let itself known that it was starving and possibly should go to bed after. If they could do it for him, he could do this for Jane.
"Here," Tony said as he slid a plate of perhaps not perfect, but certainly edible scrambled eggs over to Jane. He'd even added some spinach to this last effort because he was fancy like that and hoped on some level it might cover up any burned parts. He peered down at her through his fancy sunglasses he'd built to make himself look cool inside. Inside sunglasses. Because reasons. And he could.
She was a small thing, Jane. He always forgot how tiny she actually was because she was always bouncing everywhere with her hands flying, with sharpies in her mouth, and standing on things yelling equations and throwing pop-tarts at Darcy when Darcy gave her sass.
He'd never been very protective over a person before – Pepper could take care of herself, aside from the odd supervillain incident - but as Jane curled in tighter on herself, he felt certain that he'd made the right decision.
Jane had been inconsolable when she'd discovered the extent of Darcy's injuries. Every new detail that was let slip had set off a new wave of horrified tears, so much so that Thor had asked them to refrain from sharing anything but the most general of explanations.
Even so, Jane wasn't stupid. She'd seen Darcy with her own eyes, and although the surface was only part of the damage, she'd clearly put enough pieces together to see the shape of the whole horrifying experience.
As he was watching and worrying, she uncurled slightly. He could see her face now, with the perpetual purple bags under her eyes. Her skin was almost the same shade as her white knuckles that maintained a death grip on her coffee cup. If JARVIS hadn't notified Tony that she may be in need of wrangling, how long would she have sat here, spaced out, staring at a blank wall?
"You need to eat something, Doc," he told her, giving her a quick once-over as he took a sip of his own coffee. She was wrapped up in a veritable cocoon of cardigans, including a maroon toboggan covering her head. His stomach twisted at the sight; it reminded him so much of Darcy on days when she was dressed for comfort, in soft and fluffy layers that softened her curves without diminishing their appeal. What was with these two and their knit hat obsession? Where did they get off calling him crazy?
And yet, on Jane, the wintry clothes only added to her ghostly demeanor. She still looked chilled to the bone and fragile, like she was wearing armor that she no longer trusted to keep her safe.
Looking at her now was like looking into a mirror, a reflection of himself on the nights he woke up screaming in terror, when he'd yanked the covers away and climbed into the shower in pure blown panic, his desperation turning the water temperature hot enough to match his preferred temperature of coffee, in order to stay awake rather than go back to the nightmares about the chilled cave.
The cold was a memory felt by his whole body despite the heat of the water, and when he realized his shaking had nothing to do with the cold, but rather fear itself, he'd then retreat back to his bed, hiding under the covers like a child, still shivering long after his body had warmed back up. Getting his racing heartbeat to slow was another story, however, and he would often lay there for hours, tucked deeply within his covers, debugging code until he was tired enough to fall into a dreamless sleep.
On other nights, he awoke in such sheer terror, that he was forced out of his bed and away from the safety of his covers, shying away from the idea of water being poured over his head, stumbling into his lab in desperation to get his hands working and his mind focused on something else, anything else.
The nightmares followed him around, haunting him, and he worked to escape them.
Some days, escapism was easier than others. The distance… time itself … seemed to be the only thing truly helping. The nightmares were less than they were, the need for daily escapism, lessened. But how do you help someone when time seems to be the only cure?
Tony set down his empty mug and let his body run on autopilot, resetting the coffee machine for a fresh batch.
"Listen, Doc," he began again...
"Told you to call me Jane, Tony" she mumbled, her eyes sweeping over to him quickly before looking down at her hands, and he nodded to acknowledge the correction, relief quickly spreading through him that she had at least acknowledged him. She was present at least.
"You made eggs?" she asked dully.
"I did." She didn't need to know that it had taken him four tries to put something edible on a plate.
Picking up the fork he had laid out next to the plate, she poked at the eggs unenthusiastically. Tony watched her spear a mouthful, bring it up in front of her face, and stare at it. Then, just as robotically, she put the fork down and dropped her head into her hands.
"Well jeez, at least give them a nibble. I have it on good authority that my eggs are actually great, which is not the vibe you're giving me." Tony tried for a jovial tone even as his gaze kicked up a notch from Sympathetic to Troubleshooting. Bundled up in layers but shaking like she's cold; thoughts too tangled up to concentrating on eating. She'd barely touched her coffee, either, which wasn't a great sign; it was a near-universal truth that even the most unhinged and preoccupied of scientists could drink coffee in their sleep.
As though on cue, she raised her head just enough to reach out for the coffee mug, and lifted it to her mouth with shaking hands. Tony let his body steer itself again, and turned his observations over in his mind while he cleaned up. Once she'd had a decent amount to drink, he nudged the plate towards her again.
"Steve's been texting me, keeping me up to date. They've got her settled in the guest room. She's mostly been sleeping, which I guess makes sense since they've only been home a few hours."
Jane nodded, and stared down at her plate. Her chin trembled.
"How're you holding up, kid?" he asked gently. She looked up at him then, her eyes suddenly focused and intense though her tone remained flat.
"It's my fault."
Tony shook his head. Is that what she thought?
"Really isn't," he corrected her, tilting his head in her direction. He chugged the rest of his coffee down and moved to refill the mug once again.
"Question of the day, Tony," she glanced down at the plate of eggs he'd made her as if they offended her. He didn't know what she was going on about, they were perfectly seasoned.
"Did you ever wonder how Hydra knew about my research in the first place? How they even knew to look for it?"
Tony's eyes narrowed, his brilliant mind already leaping to where she was leading. "Run of the mill, Jane. People break in and steal shit. It happens. Shouldn't have happened, but I worked it out with JARVIS. Won't happen again."
"Not this time," she closed her eyes, pained.
His concern shifted, hardening, as pieces of a puzzle began knitting together in his mind. "What did you do?" he breathed.
"I sent an email," she began, her voice rough with disuse. "To a colleague, whom I considered a friend, about my work." She spoke almost monotonously, with no inflection or enthusiasm. "Told him what my research was on, and that it was post-testing." She took a deep breath.
"I told him that it worked and that I had proof."
Tony held his breath, his hands now gripping the edges of the island countertop, knuckles turning white as he stared at her in disbelief.
"Told him that I was sending in my research to the Nobel committee that week."
Tony stared at her, the wheels in his brain working a mile a minute, drawing conclusions before the questions had even been asked.
"When?" he whispered, horrified.
"It was earlier that morning, before I talked to you and Bruce that day."
"Who was it?" Tony demanded.
Jane covered her face with her hands. "His name was Dr. Levi Hoffman. We met through a mutual friend at Culver. He was a vaccine researcher and worked at Fralin Biomedical Research Institute. We've been colleagues for years. We would write to each other, back and forth, always discussing what we were working on, giving each other notes and suggestions. Encouragements. I thought he was a friend."
She looked up at Tony, grief so evident in her small stature that he could see her crumbling beneath the crushing weight of it.
All at once, Jane's behaviour was totally understandable. It was all a bit too extreme for someone who had lost their Emotional Support Intern, but to have been the cause of… of everything Darcy had been through? Yeah, now it all made terrible, perfect sense.
One could sit and point fingers all day at "who done it," but really, what would it accomplish? Jane was sitting here, wracked with pain and guilt. Alone, and hurting. She hadn't been the one to kidnap Darcy, to hurt her. She never would. They loved each other, like sisters. It wasn't her fault this happened.
Well, it was and it wasn't. Christ, the guilt this young girl must be carrying.
Most of the Avengers carried a heavy weight of guilt around in one large capacity or another. But Jane was what… 26, 27 years old? Much too young to be burdened with something like this.
"I didn't know he was Hydra. I had no idea." Her voice finally trembled, the first sign of emotion, rising as she pleaded at him. "He's dead. Natasha shot him in the head when they rescued Darcy. She showed me his face when they got back. I didn't know until then - I swear, I didn't know!" She sucked in a breath. "They wouldn't have come if it weren't for me. None of this would have even happened…"
"Jesus Christ. Jane, you can't believe that what happened to Darcy is your fault." Tony was at a loss for words.
Jane shrunk further into herself.
"It is my fault, it is," her eyes blurry with unshed tears, her chin trembling. "I never imagined the conversation you and I would have that day, or the arguments that followed. It never even occurred to me to consider if this work was something that I should even be doing or not. That people would be… hurt because of it. People I love."
She looked to Tony despairingly as he shook his head at her. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I am so sorry. She will never forgive me. It is all my fault. Everything. All of it. She has every right to…" Jane broke off, unable to continue.
"Jane." He was horrified she felt this way. "Honey, no. What happened to Darcy is in no way your fault. You can't do this to yourself."
She looked up at him, expression blank. It was eerie.
"You know I have to tell her."
"No you don't," he breathed.
Jane wilted. "Tony, she deserves to know," she whispered softly, lowering her gaze, her hair falling over her face as if to shield her from Tony's response.. "That I'm the reason…" her throat tightened, tears spilling out of her eyes.
Tony walked around the island and stood in front of her. Placing a hand under her chin, he waited until she met his eyes with her own.
"Listen to me, kid. Level with me. We've all seen the tv movie version of what happened to me. The shit we found her in? Wouldn't even fly on HBO. No fucking way are you laying that on her. Not now. Not ever. She needs you. And this is not your fault, Jane. None of it."
She looked away, sick with guilt and refusing to believe a word of defense to her actions. It was her fault, what happened to Darcy - all of it. It hurt her to know she was at fault.
"Incoming text from Steve Rogers," JARVIS informed him before he could continue. Tony's fingers were a blur as he started typing a response before he could possibly have finished reading.
"What is it - is everything okay?"
Her self-disgust must have been evident on her face, as Tony grimaced at her, and then his phone, as he side-eyed her before coming to some kind of conclusion, schooling his features carefully. He set the phone on the countertop, and poured the rest of his lukewarm coffee down his throat before nodding in Jane's direction.
"You're up, kid," he told her gently. "She needs you."
Jane froze.
Tony studied her in concern with a frown that wrinkled the edges of his eyes. "Steve's messaging me. Darcy's awake and he's asking if you will come and help her clean up."
The color drained out of Jane's face, making her paler, if that was even possible. She swayed slightly and Tony, who had been watching her carefully, grabbed onto her to help steady her. He looked her over carefully, now weighing all the variables he was now privy to.
"You gonna be able to do this?" he asked, his question gentle but in a tone that made her aware that if she couldn't commit to helping her friend, and she would - of course she would, even if she felt she didn't deserve to… that he would get someone who would. And that wasn't fair to Darcy in any way, shape, or form. She could do this. She would do this. He believed that she could pull herself together to do this.
The poor girl looked like she might be sick.
"Eat your eggs," he told her. "I'm gonna go talk to Steve and let him know you'll be around when you're done."
She couldn't look at him.
"You're not alone here," he said softly. "We're gonna take care of you too, okay?"
"I'm fine," she mumbled. "You need to put your focus and energies towards helping Darcy. Don't waste that on me."
There was so much to unpack there, it threw him for a beat. Her chin trembled as she stared at her plate.
"You aren't fine," he told her gently. "And what happened to Darcy is not your fault."
A tear slid down her cheek before she roughly brushed it away with a shaky hand.
"Eat your eggs, go wash your face, and I'll let Steve and Bucky know you're coming. We'll talk more on this later. JARVIS, make sure she finishes what's on her plate."
Grimacing, she pulled the plate close, her hand shaking as she picked up her fork, and he headed out to go have a very important and informative face to face with Steve and Bucky, confident that Jane would be able to pull it together as they hoped she would. He also wanted to let them know in confidence how much Jane was currently struggling, and give them a heads up on what to look out for. To help Darcy, yes, of course, absolutely.
But also, that collectively they all needed to keep a close eye on Jane for a while. That she was not doing okay right now either and needed support. He sent Steve another text, quickening his steps as he made his way down to Cap's quarters.
When they could get the two girls together, some comfort and healing would take place. He felt sure of this.