Disclaimer: I don't own the Marvel Cinematic Universe or any of its characters.
Darcy was having a slight crisis.
She had recently returned home, having finished her second year at Culver, to a job offer from SHIELD.
She knew that Clint, Natasha or Phil must have dropped it off, but none of them had mentioned anything to her. Clearly, they wanted her to consider the offer on her own without being influenced by their thoughts.
Jane, it seemed, was driving her assistants round the bend. It made Darcy smile to think of Jane's overqualified team being cowed by the fiery, petite scientist.
SHIELD were offering to pay for her to finish her course online, while giving her lodging and a small wage to help with Jane. She wouldn't be involved in any of the actual science (and thank goodness for that – astrophysics was definitely not her thing), but would be responsible for managing the lab and ensuring all occupants were fed, watered and adhered to some sort of regular sleep schedule – apparently Jane's minions were as bad at remembering to eat and sleep as Jane was.
The job wasn't anything like what she'd consider doing once she graduated. Her current plans were either to join SHIELD or find some kind of job in Washington, perhaps working for a Senator. Still, it was a good way to keep connected to SHIELD in a relatively safe manner while she finished her course, hopefully enabling her to make some contacts within the organisation that could be useful later on.
Did she want to get more involved with SHIELD, though?
If she'd been asked less than a year ago then she probably would have agreed almost immediately.
Now she wasn't nearly as sure.
Events in Puente Antiguo had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
She had been connected to Clint for almost her entire life, but it was only recently that she'd experienced anything even close to the sort of life that he led.
Sometimes Darcy could scarcely understand how he managed to live with a constant sense of danger. He, Natasha and Phil never entered a room without looking for the exits, always watched their surroundings so carefully, were suspicious of almost everything.
Darcy hadn't entirely decided if she wanted that to become her life. Oh, she knew she wouldn't be like Clint and Natasha, but working for SHIELD came with plenty of risks, even when you weren't on the front lines or part of the infamous Strike Team Delta.
She sighed as she re-read the paperwork in her hand.
Eventually, she would have to make a decision.
Thankfully, she still had time. She was enjoying her holiday at home. The quiet of the farm was peaceful and relaxing, and she liked being able to spend a lot of quality time with her mom.
She slipped the paperwork back into her desk drawer.
Maybe tomorrow would bring more clarity on what she wanted to do.
The next morning, a tired Darcy was sitting at the table, yawning in between bites of toast.
"You were screaming in your sleep last night, Darcy."
She looked up at her mom's words and sighed softly at the worried look on her face.
"I'm fine, mom, really."
"It's the third time this week."
Every time the dream had been set in the same location of Puente Antiguo, but with a different victim. In her first nightmare she'd seen Clint and Phil's bodies. In the second, it was Jane and Erik who had been killed. In last night's, Thor had never regained his power and the whole town had erupted into flames.
Darcy said nothing. She'd thought the nightmares had faded away. They'd been bad for a few weeks after she returned to Culver, but when she'd become busy with exams and essays, she'd begun to sleep relatively peacefully again. Unfortunately, her return home and her lack of distractions appeared to have led her mind to focus once again on the events in Puente Antiguo.
"Darcy, please just talk to me."
She shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it. She was fine discussing the parts of Jane's work that weren't classified, and rambling about Puente Antiguo's lack of decent coffee and how clear the night sky was, but she was reluctant to speak about the incident that still haunted her dreams.
"It's classified, mom. You know I can't tell you what happened."
"Not everything, perhaps. But I know you could tell me something, Darcy."
"It's over now," she muttered.
"Maybe it is, but you're clearly still feeling the effects. Big experiences stay with you, Darcy, both good and bad. You can't pretend it didn't happen."
She wished she could. Not everything, because she could think fondly on almost all of her time in Puente Antiguo, but it would be nice if her memories of a carnage and flames were a little fuzzier.
"Are you sure you don't want to talk to someone … I know you wouldn't be able to tell a normal therapist everything, but surely SHIELD isn't entirely lacking when it comes to mental health."
Darcy had her doubts. She knew agents were required to talk to someone to be cleared for the field after particularly difficult missions, but Darcy didn't work for SHIELD (not yet, at least) and she didn't really want to explain to Clint, Natasha or Phil that she was still struggling a bit. They'd always taught her that it was ok to ask for help, but she wanted to try and deal with her nightmares herself for the moment.
What she had experienced was so minor when compared to the things SHIELD agents saw every day.
She was dealing with it. She just had to get used to being back at home, find a routine and busy her mind so that she could sleep soundly again.
It was going to be fine.
When Natasha's name came up on her phone screen, indicating an incoming call, Darcy thought nothing of it.
Natasha preferred to message her, or talk in person, but she did occasionally phone let them know she'd be visiting or just to have a brief chat.
"Hey, Nat, what's –"
"We've got a problem," Natasha cut her off, her voice sounding calm on the surface but with an underlying tension that Darcy really, really didn't like, "it's Clint."
For a minute it felt like her heart had stopped, "what's happened, Nat? He's not …"
"He's alive," Natasha said.
Her voice was fierce, as if to say that Clint Barton would be alive and well for many years to come if she had anything to say about it. Natasha was nothing if not tenaciously protective of the small circle of people she truly cared for.
"He's alive," she repeated again, as if to remind herself, "but it's not good news, Darcy."
Darcy took a breath, tried not to let the panic overwhelm her, "tell me, please."
Natasha told her.
Loki. A mysterious artefact. Mind control.
This wasn't like a shootout in Madrid, or a sting operation in Paris, or an undercover job in Valencia.
This was aliens and brainwashing and the very real possibility that she would never see her uncle again.
This was …
"Breathe, Darcy," Natasha ordered.
She hadn't even realised she was hyperventilating until Natasha's words shook her out of her daze.
How was she supposed to do this? Clint's job had always been dangerous, but it had never been like this.
It wasn't that he'd lied to her before, only that she knew he kept the worst details to himself, that the stories she heard from him and Natasha and Coulson were sanitised things designed to inform but not scare her.
But that was before Puente Antiguo.
Before she'd seen an alien-controlled robot set a town aflame and had a near-death experience of her own. Before she'd had images seared into her mind that she couldn't forget, no matter how much she wanted to.
And before the villain turned out to be a vengeful alien prince with designs on world domination.
It was all too much.
Now, she could imagine Clint's battered and broken body in a way she never could before.
Natasha was trying to be calm, but there was a tremor in her voice that Darcy could hear. Something had the usually unflappable Natasha spooked, and that worried Darcy.
How bad did it have to be for Natasha to be unable to hide her fear?
Darcy had never lost someone before.
The idea of Clint – probably the most important person in her life after her mom – no longer being around was abhorrent to her.
No longer getting to hear his crazy tales about making near-impossible shots and jumping off buildings to avoid explosions. No more keychains from far-flung places across the globe. No teasing about his terrible taste in TV while they watched Dog Cops (which, yes, was kind of awesome, even if she'd never admit it to her uncle). No warm hugs and thoughtful advice and bad (but still funny) jokes and …
She let out a choked sob.
No, she didn't want to think about it.
Clint was going to be fine.
"Darcy, are you there?"
"I'm here," she replied to Natasha, trying not to sniffle but failing miserably.
"Darcy," Natasha's voice is serious now, "I promise I'm going to do everything I can to help Clint. Do you trust me?"
"Of course."
Darcy was almost offended Natasha would ask. It didn't matter what Natasha had been before Clint found her – what Darcy knew was that she had helped keep her uncle safe on countless missions and had more than proven her loyalty.
"Be safe," the older woman told her, "we'll find you when this is all over."
"Wait," Darcy cried out, just as Natasha was about to hang up, "Jane … what about Jane? Loki probably knows about her."
"Phil's sending her somewhere secure. He's got it all sorted."
Of course he did. Very little escaped Phil Coulson's notice, and Darcy knew he'd make sure Jane was ok.
"Good, that's good."
"Worry about yourself, Darcy, and your mother. And be safe."
Natasha hung up then, and Darcy held the phone to her ear for almost a minute, just listening to the dial tone, trying to process exactly what she'd just been told.
And then she took a breath, tried not to think about Clint (in Loki's clutches, under his control, without any allies with him) and went to tell her mom that they needed to grab their bags and go.
When she was a child, Darcy had gone through a short phase of reading everything she could get her hands on that was related to Norse mythology. Her obsession had lasted only a few months, but it had been long enough for her to devour plenty of stories about Odin, Thor, Loki and the rest of the Asgardian gods.
At the time she had rather disliked both Odin and Thor, finding the trickster character of Loki far more interesting.
Now she wanted nothing more than to plant her fist in Loki's face.
Perhaps the stories were true. Maybe Loki had reasons to act as he had. Right now, though, Darcy couldn't bring herself to care about that.
Because Loki was the one who had enslaved her uncle, who had turned him into some kind of brainwashed slave.
Darcy was all for a bit of mischief, but this went far beyond that.
This was her family that Loki was hurting, and if her uncle was injured or killed then Loki better hope she never found him.
She might not be alien royalty or a god or a super spy but she would certainly make him pay.
The mood in the car was quiet.
Beth Lewis was a practical sort of woman. There had been no hysterics when Darcy delivered the news that Natasha had given her, no unnecessary questions or a refusal to leave.
Instead, while Darcy filled a bag with food and bottled water, Darcy's mom had grabbed their pre-packed rucksacks and called a neighbour to ask them to check on the house every few days, giving the excuse of having to go out of state for an unexpected family funeral.
Clint regularly made the two of them go over the emergency protocols for a wide variety of potential scenarios. If required, Darcy could probably recite the list of things she was supposed to do while sleep-deprived, drunk or under the influence of drugs.
Now, completely sober and relatively well-rested, she still found herself jittery and unsure.
Sure, she knew exactly what she had to do. But she'd never let herself consider how she would be affected by whatever problem or disaster or danger meant that she had to use the protocols she'd known for as long as she could remember.
When she'd been six or seven, it had almost been fun to practice getting her bag ready quickly and all the ways she could sneak quietly out of the house (Clint had done a number of renovations to give the house some secret passageways and hidden exits). As she got older it became a more serious thing, something that was less a child's game and more something that could one day save her life.
She'd always liked to imagine herself being calm and collected. Instead, she had needed to stifle her wish to burst into tears, the stress of the day fraying her nerves as she tried desperately not to imagine all the worst-case scenarios.
Still, she'd managed to pull herself together before she got into the car, politely ignoring the fact that her mom's eyes were suspiciously red, just as her mom made no mention of Darcy's trembling hands.
They didn't have a long car journey, just to the local train station.
From there, they would make their way to the safe house using a combination of trains, buses and taxis, only ever using cash, dressed in unassuming outfits and trying to look away from as many security cameras as possible.
Cliché stuff, Darcy knew, but it would still help them.
She thought it was fairly likely that Loki could find them if he really wanted to, either by means of whatever magic he used or through earth technology. Still, if they made it difficult enough then, in the event that he discovered their existence, he probably wouldn't bother searching for them, not when they weren't likely to be much help in whatever insane plan he had.
(not like Clint, the astounding sharpshooter spy with connections all over the world).
As her mom pulled the car out of the drive, Darcy looked back at the house.
Scenes played out in her mind. Years of memories with her mom, Clint, Natasha and Phil.
Would they ever have that again? Would all of them escape alive from whatever chaos Loki wrought?
All Darcy could do was hope for the best.
There was no television in the safehouse, only a radio that had to be poked and prodded to get it to work.
In normal circumstances, Darcy would be horrified. No TV to go along with no Wifi!
Of course, this was a safehouse for a reason. Her presence there meant that these certainly weren't normal circumstances.
After all, staying off the grid was more important than having a bit of mindless entertainment.
For a few days there wasn't much to concern her, apart from news on the radio about some kind of incident in Germany involving Loki, Iron Man and someone dressed as Captain America.
(was it really Captain America? Surely it couldn't be, except … well, a lot of crazy stuff had been happening recently. If it was the man himself then she could only imagine how excited Phil would be, how he'd try and get the Captain to sign the trading cards he treasured so much).
Darcy read the four books she'd packed in quick succession. She then got through the three her mom had brought with her, as well as the two dog-eared paperbacks she found on the slightly crooked shelf in her bedroom.
Her mom cooked and baked far more than the two of them alone could eat. Darcy never dared to mention that she seemed to be making all of Clint's favourites, as if it would somehow summon him to the door.
Darcy couldn't blame her, really. She had come very close herself to shoving her huge box of keyrings from Clint into the car for their journey, thinking that the presence of so many ties to Clint might somehow bring him back to them safely.
As it was, Darcy's mom had been sobbing on and off, though she tried to hide it. Darcy wouldn't ever judge her for that, and would have no room to talk anyway, since she had cried herself to sleep the first night in the safehouse and then spent the subsequent nights murmuring frantic prayers that Clint and Natasha and Phil would all be alright.
And that was their existence.
Very bored, desperately worried and only aware of whatever the news station reported.
She wanted to do something, anything. And yet, she knew the one thing Clint would want in this situation would be for Darcy to keep herself and her mom safe.
And so they simply waited and hoped.
When they started to get relevant news, it didn't just trickle in, it flooded.
An alien invasion. An army of terrifying creatures wreaking havoc in New York. Loki at the centre of it all.
The city's police, any military stationed there … they all appeared powerless in the face of such a force.
And then the news came in about a small group fighting back, actually seeming to have some success in taking down the alien army.
Iron Man. The Hulk. Captain America (the newsreaders couldn't agree on whether it was the original or not). Thor (and how did that happen? Did Jane know?).
Her heart skipped a beat when there were reports of a woman with red hair using Captain America's shield as a springboard. And then her fingernails pressed so hard into the skin of her hand that they drew blood when there was mention of a man in a black and dark purple tactical suit shooting arrows from the top of a skyscraper.
Clint was there. He was alive.
She and her mom sat together, gripping each other's hands as they listened to the news station.
Darcy found herself thankful for the lack of a TV. The radio's description of the situation in New York was harrowing enough on its own. Darcy wasn't sure she'd have been able to cope if there was footage to go with the news.
Hours passed, Darcy trying desperately to stay positive no matter what direction the battle was going.
She didn't know the other members of the team personally, but she knew Clint and Natasha.
They wouldn't give up. They would do everything they could.
She only hoped it would be enough.
-x-x-x-
"And we are now receiving confirmation that the battle in New York has ended with the perpetrator in custody and the … creatures which attacked the city gone through what appeared to be a wormhole in the sky. City officials have indicated that they will be making a statement shortly."
The news coming from the radio made Darcy breathe a little easier.
Still, she wasn't going to put her phone back together yet, not until she had heard a proper statement and knew that Loki was definitely secured.
Thankfully, she didn't have to wait too long. She and her mom listened as New York's mayor confirmed what the news presenters had been reporting, emphasising that Loki was now in secure custody.
Satisfied that it was safe enough, Darcy took out the pieces of her phone that she had brought with her and quickly put them back together.
As it turned on, she held her breath, waiting for a sign that Clint and Natasha were alright.
She skipped past the countless messages from Jane and a couple of Culver friends. She felt bad about not responding to Jane, but a quick glance at the thread of messages reassured her that Phil had made sure Jane knew that Darcy was safe but unreachable for the time being.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Natasha's name and, with trembling fingers, she pressed the screen to open the message.
It was only two words, but they were words that made Darcy sob so loudly with happiness that it startled her mom, who began to panic until Darcy passed her the phone so she could see what Natasha had sent.
He's alive.
Darcy had so many questions she wanted to ask, so much she desperately wished to know.
But, for the moment, she could simply rejoice that her uncle was alive.
That was enough right now.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
Sorry for the wait. I was (and still am) distracted by The Grisha Trilogy / Shadow & Bone. Hopefully the next part of this series won't take as long as this one.