This chapter took a darker turn than expected. May be triggering as there is one main depiction of a violent scenario. No sexual violence of any kind.

Also, I had some questions about the new characters in this chapter so I figured I would go back and add that I accidentally on purpose crossed over with the Punisher for like a split second. It probably won't happen again, but no guarantees.

As always, I'd love to hear what you think.


A Man Called Frank

It was easy to forget that the people she lived and worked with were dangerous. When she really stopped to think about it, Darcy couldn't think of a single person in her immediate circle that shouldn't scare the ever-loving shit out of her.

Even Jane…call her oblivious and one-track-minded, whatever, but if that girl ever got it in her mind to get rid of someone or a bunch of people, she could do it without a trace of evidence. Just…poof! They'd be gone. Sent off somewhere into the darkest pits of space. Hell, Jane could probably reduce someone to an atomic level – literally tear them to pieces so small they'd be undetectable. And as far as threat levels go Jane was second to lowest, followed only by Darcy herself.

Darcy wondered if her relative normality was part of the reason that she forgot the true natures of the people she loved. Because she lacked some sort of quality that the rest of them had. When she thought about it, she knew that Natasha and Bucky had circled each other for weeks before finally, after careful and intense deliberation, choosing to place their trust in one another.

They obviously had some kind of history – Darcy wasn't sure of the details, but the history was there – they recognized each other for the threats that they were. Even now, on the same team, they approached each other with a level of calculation that disturbed Darcy.

She knew of course that both were assassins. That both had carried out unimaginable acts under the control of evil men. It was just so hard to reconcile those facts with the Natasha Romanov that she decorated Christmas trees with for charity. Couldn't reconcile the ghost story of the Winter Soldier, with the Cheshire smile Bucky shot her when he was up to no good. And it was pretty much the same problem with every other member of the team. Tony Stark wasn't given the name Merchant of Death for nothing. It was a title he earned before he recognized the error of his ways and chose to use his power for good.

But the fact that her friends were dangerous wasn't the issue for Darcy. The issue for Darcy lied in the fact that she struggled to recognize things for what they were. She wasn't necessarily naïve so much as she was unable to see nuance when she was standing too close to a situation.

For instance, Darcy had faced the Destroyer in New Mexico and Dark Elves in London and survived. And she was absolutely, bone-deep terrified that something of that magnitude would happen again, and that it wouldn't end well for her. She recognized the danger of those situations and knew that she was woefully unprepared to defend herself. Flying by the seat of her pants would only take her so far in that evolutionary game. That being said, those events caused an imbalance in her mind. She became so focused on fearing them that she took a rather blasé attitude toward the everyday dangers the world could present.

So preoccupied with the stars and what could be coming, Darcy sometimes forgot about what could come from the depths of an alleyway. It's not like she was intentionally careless. She was distracted. Even though Clint had drilled it into her head multiple times about the dangers of the city, of being on her own, and the target she had on her back by association. A girl who lived in Avenger's Tower worked intimately with a high-profile, high-clearance astrophysicist, and had been seen publicly many times with two super soldiers was – without a doubt – on someone's radar. And she had been assured many times that she didn't want to find out whose. Clint drilled escape tactics and defense mechanisms into her head. Constantly reminded her how to detect when she was being followed. Preached vigilance constantly.

Repeatedly.

And she believed him. She let him train her in all the ways he saw fit. She even spent a day at the shooting range with him and Sam once, before they firmly decided to keep any and all firearms out of her hands for as long as they lived. Darcy thought that was a bit extreme, but after reviewing the security footage Steve agreed with them wholeheartedly.

What Darcy enjoyed the most about her training – and trust her when she said there wasn't a lot to enjoy – was trying to figure out whether someone was tailing her as she went about her day. Clint was always so proud when she caught him, even though he assured her that it was only because he was letting her, which she thought was total and utter bullshit. Since Steve and Bucky had shown her around the city a couple of times, Darcy had gotten a lot more confident in going out to explore. And had started advocating for herself enough to get the time to go out and have some semblance of a life.

But sometimes it was hard to apply her training to real life. What Clint asked of her was far from unreasonable. It's just, in the real world outside of all the Avenger's stuff…Darcy failed to see threats where her friends would. She failed to see them because she chose to see the good in things, even when those things were scary on the surface. And even though Steve and Bucky had made their trips around town a regular thing, she was still new to the city. If she started to see only the shadows in it, she'd never leave her apartment. But instead, when she found the time, Darcy would go off on her own and expand her comfort zone bit by bit. Which meant that, on occasion, she made a wrong turn. Or two. Darcy stopped for a minute to look around her. Maybe three.

She didn't recognize any of the buildings. The street signs were all wrong and they didn't have the best lighting. For the first time, nighttime on the streets of New York felt like night. There was a silence here that she hadn't really anticipated. She passed by only the occasional pedestrian and none of them seemed like the type that would give directions for free.

It had taken her too long to realize she was lost; it took her only a second after that realization to notice she was being followed. She tried to act normal as she walked, eyes searching frantically for a crowded street to disappear into, but the further she went the quieter everything was. And she was not alone.

She tried to put her hand in her bag discretely searching for her taser. But when the person following her decided to forgo subtlety and simply rush her, she dropped the act and turned to see who it was.

He was easily six foot, wide as a fridge, wearing all black with a small emblem on the arm. Hydra.

Darcy ran. Her taser was clutched tightly in her hands and she didn't look back again. She tried not to run in a straight line as Clint had sarcastically instructed once. Tried to control her breathing and look out for ways to lose her pursuer in the street.

Clint always, always, instructed her to find a crowd. But Darcy couldn't find a fucking crowd. The whole place was dark and empty, and the Hydra goon was gaining on her quickly.

Then she saw a light, on the third floor of a half-constructed building. She heard men's voices drifting down toward the street, the thud of a sledgehammer against concrete.

Something shot past her ear from behind– a dart or a knife she didn't know – but Darcy stumbled. Felt fingertips brush through her hair as the man tried to grab her and missed. A burst of adrenaline allowed her to create some distance, but she was tiring fast. So, she took the air that was left in her lungs and shouted up at the building for help. Begged loudly and briefly before the goon behind her tackled her by the waist and forced her to the ground.

Darcy couldn't breathe. Her lungs stunned out of motion, chest rattling with the force of the impact. Her eyes had widened with her mouth as if they too wanted to help her gather more air.

She couldn't breathe, but there was a needle flying toward her neck so she fought anyway hoping her lungs would follow the rest of her body's example. She held his wrist with her left hand, using her right to punch at the inside of her attackers' elbow. He used one hand to pin her arms over her head. She lifted her hips to try to buck him off and kicked at everything she could reach. She must have hit something important because he lost the needle in the process, cussing at her and telling her to keep still and shut up. She spit in his eye before letting out another ear-piercing screech, unable to shake his grasp but trying anyway. He covered her mouth; she bit him and drew blood.

And then he was gone. Out of breath, Darcy laid there for a second. Dazed and uncomprehending. Then she scrambled, hauled herself off the ground, grabbed her taser from the ground where she'd dropped it. Charged it and held it out in front of her.

But the man had just disappeared. She turned around slowly in the street, checking for any sign of her assailant. Not bothering to question it any more than she already had, Darcy picked her bag up off the ground and turned to run back the way she came. Determined to find her way back to the tower and away from the shadows of the city.

She only made it a few feet before the shock wore off and her ankle crumpled under her own weight. She tried to stand back up and move but couldn't seem to get her leg to work. Pushed off the ground and hopped on one foot, breathing heavily she hoped she'd be able to make it back this way. It was doubtful.

Footsteps thudded down the middle of the street from behind her, and Darcy lit up her taser, turned, and held the device in front of her to face her attacker once more.

But unlike the Hydra agent from before, this man was stockier. His beard was unkempt, and he wore a pair of steel-toed boots and a white t-shirt that was covered in blood. His eyes were calculating, and his face was grim, but his hands were held out in a peace offering.

"You really don't want to fuck with me, dude." She spat out, but her hands were shaking.

"Hey. Hey now, kid," His voice was gruff but soft as though he was deliberately trying to make himself seem less menacing. "You're okay. I ain't gonna hurt you."

He hunched his shoulders but kept his hands where she could see them.

"Heard you call for help. That's all," He said. "Was up in that building back there."

He pointed to the place with the light she had seen. "Came down to see what was going on and saw that asshole on top of you."

He shook his head and spit.

"Where is he? Did he get away?" Darcy didn't want to talk to this guy. Everything about him was sending warning bells off in her head.

"Don't worry about it, Kid." He looked away from her then. "I took care of him."

Darcy looked down at the blood spatter on his shirt and resisted the urge to vomit all over the street.

"Shit." He wiped his face with his hand before turning back to her. "Name's Pete."

She didn't care.

"You got someone you can call?" He looked down at where she was trying to balance on one foot, her right one resting gently on the ground.

"I'd offer to carry you." He laughed darkly. "But I got a feelin you'd light my ass up before I came over there. And that wouldn't be a good look, now would it?"

Darcy growled at him to think carefully about his next move when he reached into his pocket.

"I got a phone if you need it…I'll slide it over to you. You can call whoever you need."

"I have a phone. I don't need yours." She grumbled out, still watching him warily.

He arched an eyebrow and nodded for her to go ahead and use it then.

Another glance at him to make sure he wasn't going to move or do anything stupid, and Darcy fished desperately for her cell phone at the bottom of her bag.

She had several text messages from Tony, asking her why she wasn't in the labs at this time of night. A butt dial from Jane and Thor…ew. And a text from Bucky asking if they were still on for their movie night at 8. She grimaced. It was almost 8:30. She had a voicemail from him and another from Steve.

She really didn't want to bug either of them that much anyway…she turned back to the guy that had saved her life.

"Do you know a number for a cab?" She asked with no small amount of hesitancy.

He winced and shook his head, appearing genuinely regretful.

"Sorry." He looked at her, looked behind him, and then said something to himself – all Darcy could make out was dumbass and crazy fucker. "Look don't take this the wrong way, but I got a car. You shouldn't be walking around alone in these parts anyway…I can drive you wherever you need to go."

Darcy let out a condescending laugh.

"Do I look fucking stupid to you, man? I'm not getting in your car."

"Look kid, I took out that piece of shit that was on top of you easy enough." His voice was raised impatiently. "If I really wanted to hurt you, do you think I'd be standing here like some god damn pussy trying to manipulate your feelings first?"

She dropped her taser and shrugged.

"Look dude, thanks I guess for helping me. It was like really cool of you." Darcy was tired, and her leg was throbbing. "But this is kind of uncharted territory for me."

"Yeah?" He bit out. "I don't make it a habit of picking up strays and chauffeuring them around the damn city, but here we are. You want a ride or not."

She looked down at her phone. She should just call Bucky. She slid the device into her back pocket and hobbled over to where he stood.

"Lead the way, dude. And please don't kill me." She kept her voice light despite the dread that had settled deep in her gut. "I know this is gonna sound like a lie, but I know people who would seriously kill you if you killed me."

He barked out a laugh and wrapped an arm around her waist, taking on her weight as they headed over to his truck.

"Is that right?" He didn't sound convinced.

"Yep."

"Whatever you say."

He opened the passenger side door and lifted her into the cab with ease. She tried but she couldn't ignore the Clint-like voice in her head reading her the riot act, asking her what the fuck she was thinking.

"Where am I taking you?"

"Um.." She couldn't exactly tell him she lived with the Avengers. "On Broadway, you can just drop me near Columbus Circle…I've got a friend over there."

He whistled and turned to look at her.

"How the hell did you end up out here?" He laughed. "Jesus, kid, you are definitely not in Kansas anymore."

He started the engine and pulled out of his spot. Heading toward the financial district.

Darcy's phone screen lit up with Bucky's number, she ignored the call and shot him a quick text that she was sorry she missed movie night but that something had come up and she'd totally catch the next one.

She watched as he began to type a response, stop, and then start again. Before sending a quick 'hope everything's okay.'

Darcy locked her screen and put it back in her pocket.

When they got close enough that the tower was in sight, but a good enough ways away that Pete wouldn't know it was her destination, Darcy told him he could pull over.

She could tell he had questions about where she was heading exactly, but he didn't voice them. He threw the truck in park and turned to her with a skeptical look.

"You sure you're gonna be able to walk on that ankle?"

She forced a smile back.

"Sure…piece of cake."

He went to say something more, but his eyes darkened, and he hopped out of the truck. He slid with no small amount of skill over the hood, just as someone wrenched open her passenger side door and carefully dragged her out. She made to yell at her assailant but stopped short when she met Bucky's ice-blue gaze.

Pete made to grab for Bucky, but the Winter Soldier blocked him with ease and held Darcy behind him. The two men chested up to each other, not saying a word, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Darcy nervously tapped Bucky on the shoulder.

"Hey..um guys?" Her voice cracked; nerves completely shot. "Hey...guys? We're all cool here. Bucky, this is Pete. Pete, this is Bucky. We're good right?"

She slipped out from behind him to stand between the two men.

"I don't think this is the time or place to be starting shit," She looked between them and tried to ignore the curious glances and wide berth others were giving them.

"You know this guy, kid?" Pete spoke to Darcy but kept his eyes on Bucky. Darcy tried not to react to the fact that his trigger finger was twitching as he spoke.

"Yep. Yeah. Totally. Bucky's a really good friend, Pete."

"This guy hurt you, doll?" Bucky's voice was completely unrecognizable to Darcy's ears; it was the first time she'd ever been in the presence of the Winter Soldier as others had seen him.

"What? No. He didn't Bucky."

"Got blood on his shirt."

"Not mine. The guy that hurt me. It's his blood. At least I think it is…I never really asked about that part."

At that Bucky did tear his eyes away from the man in front of him, to stare dumbly at Darcy.

"You didn't think the ask this guy where the blood on his shirt came from before you got in his car?"

"It made sense at the time…?"

"Darcy, doll, Jesus Christ." He looked between her and Pete, narrowed his eyes.

Pete was fluctuating between studying Bucky and looking monumentally bored.

"What'd you do with the guy that attacked her?"

"I took care of him," Pete said as though it was the only answer worth giving. Darcy rolled her eyes, before staring dumbly as Bucky nodded in complete understanding.

"Get a name?" He asked Pete who shook his head.

"Didn't really fuck around with the chit chat."

Bucky snorted.

Pete fished for something in his pocket and tossed it to the Soldier.

"Cut that off his tactical gear though," He said. "Thought it might mean something."

Bucky barely glanced at it before tucking the symbol away.

"It's Hydra," He told Pete as though he was doing him a courtesy by giving him any information at all.

Pete nodded before looking to Darcy.

"Take care of yourself, kid."

Then he jogged around the front of his truck and climbed in.

Bucky used his vibranium hand to knock on the passenger window. He waited until Pete rolled the window all the way down before tossing the man a burner phone he seemed to have produced from midair.

"Look, Castle," Bucky started, his voice low.

The man in the driver's seat shot his head up to get a good look at Bucky then.

"How'd you get that name?" He growled out but Bucky ignored the question. He rested his metal arm on the door.

"Thank you for lookin out for Darcy tonight. If you ever find yourself in a tight spot, give me a call. I'll see what I can do."

"How do you know that name?" Frank repeated.

Bucky gave him a look, then he straightened up and slung his flesh arm around Darcy.

"Take care of yourself, Marine."

He took some of Darcy's weight on as his own, guiding her carefully back to the tower. He deliberately ignored her annoyed comments and never-ending questions.

When they stopped on the floor that Steve and Bucky shared, he led her to Steve's apartment and swung the door open.

In the living room were Steve, Sam, and another man that Darcy had never seen before, who all stood up at the sight in front of them.

"What the fuck happened?" Steve asked as he looked her up and down. Sam left the room and came back with a first aid kit. The other man offered his help, but Sam just smiled tensely and shook his head.

"Set her over here, Barnes," Sam directed.

"Hey, she's right here," Darcy grumbled. "You can talk directly to her and everything."

"Sorry, Darce," Sam said as he helped Bucky settle her on the edge of the couch.

"Ran into your friend, Curt," Bucky said.

The other man, Curtis, looked between Bucky and Darcy incredulously.

Bucky clarified. "Castle."

"Nah man, Frank wouldn't do this," Curtis replied.

"Not Frank," Darcy cut in. "That guy's name was Pete. Sam, stop touching my ankle, it's fine." She swatted at the medic's hand before continuing. "And Pete didn't do this. He saved me…I think. I mean, I didn't actually see him do it or anything. But one minute the other guy was there, and then the other guy was gone, and Pete was there. It's all kind of a blur, to be honest. Ouch, Sam, stop touching my ankle. It's fine."

"If it was fine Darcy you wouldn't be complaining that it hurt," Sam said in a dry voice.

"Well, it only hurts when you touch it." She grumbled.

"She can't put any weight on it," Bucky interjected before turning back to Curtis. "Castle drove her here; I didn't know what to think at first, but Darcy says he didn't hurt her, and I believe her. Guy that attacked her was Hydra."

"How do you know?" Steve cut in.

Bucky took out the patch Castle had given him and tossed it to his best friend. They traded looks above Darcy's head. That was twice now that Darcy had been targeted. Odds of coincidence were growing slim.

Steve grabbed Darcy a bottle of coconut water from the fridge and a couple of the lighter painkillers he kept in the cupboard. He handed both over to her while Sam cleaned the worst of her gashes.

They all settled down a bit after that. Curtis struck up a conversation with Darcy, keeping her distracted while Sam worked at some of the more painful injuries. Occasionally throwing in a question to check for symptoms of concussion. She couldn't remember if she'd hit her head or not.

Steve asked her to tell them in as much detail as possible what had happened that night, and she did so to the best of her ability. But couldn't quite form words around the moment the man had tackled her. She felt as though she'd had the wind knocked out of her all over again.

Darcy apologized, but no one blamed her. Curtis took off not too much later. Sam after that. Darcy was already asleep. Steve headed off to talk to Stark about the events of the night, to try to get a video feed and a different perspective. Before he left, he told Bucky to give Darcy his bed for the night. Buck could crash on the couch if he wanted. Steve wouldn't be back for a while anyway.

Bucky shot off a text, then set to work on his laptop while Darcy slept. When Natasha and Clint walked through the door, Bucky was lifting Darcy off the couch to take her to Steve's room. Clint scanned over his student with a practiced eye, before groaning and rubbing at his face tiredly with both hands. He went to the kitchen and brewed them a pot of caffeinated mud. Natasha dropped down on the couch and grabbed Bucky's laptop to see what progress he'd made while he waited for them. If Hydra had Darcy in the crosshairs, they would be prepared. And they would make sure as hell that Darcy was prepared too.