As always I'd love to know what you think.
Ultamatrix Bearer...is it sacrilegious to say I've never actually finished watching Deadpool? Lol Katie MacAlpine and Lowenweiss, thank you for your feedback. And Guest, I appreciate your kind words.
Enjoy!
Meet me in Queens
Darcy couldn't help but marvel at the way in which a person could accumulate so many things. Just bits and pieces of life that a person picked up along the way – things that should be meaningless but quickly became part of who that person was. They took on roles, enmeshed themselves with their owner's identity. Became invaluable, but somehow completely overlooked. These things would never get thrown out like yesterday's trash, but they also tended to fade into the background. Became part of the noise and blur of everyday life.
Some things – like the hairpin Darcy used to secure her hair back from her face – some things are there to help you see. To help a person understand an increasingly confusing world.
Other things – Darcy slid a bronze cuff onto her wrist – were objects of vanity...and of shame. Trauma hidden behind a veil of beauty. A mask that showed the world Darcy was presently who she had been before. Remove the cuff from her wrist and the whole world would know that this was a lie.
There were objects that helped you find your way – a beaded bracelet for the other wrist. Inside, a projection of where you are going. A guide through a foreign land, a compass for when you've lost your way.
And those that reminded you where you came from. The solid metal of Great Grandpa Lewis's dog tags rested resolutely against her chest.
Others were acquired for personal protection. A ring sat on her finger. Its cold metal band betrayed the electric heat it produced when it unfolded around her hand and encompassed her fist in a final form of defense. Her desperate need for survival sat trapped in a small metal circle on the ring finger of her right hand. A couple of nervous twists and she could knock even a god on his back.
And then there were those things that, for no rhyme or reason other than small twists of fate, seemed to fall into a person's lap from out of nowhere. They carried with them stories that may never be told and questions that may never be answered. They were an itch at the back of a person's mind as they tried desperately to recall how they came to possess such objects. Darcy clipped the snake pin high on her jeans, folding the fabric of her t-shirt down over it, and hiding it from sight.
Some questions were best left for another day.
Darcy grabbed a couple of tampons and shoved them into a bag, pulled on her favorite jacket with a glance out the window. Despite the summer heat of the last few days, it looked like rain. She pulled on her unlucky pair of Nikes with a wry twist of her lips, remembering her trek through Asgard in a gown and those very same shoes. She tucked her old taser back away in her sock drawer where she left it when she got her ring from Natasha.
With a glance in the mirror, the smoothing of rumpled fabric, and a quick rundown of the mental checklist of items in her head, Darcy slid her phone in her back pocket and walked out her front door.
Today would be a good day.
Sam Wilson took the stairs two at a time from the armory at Subsection 7 up to Subsection 6. He hoped to find Steve there in one of the TAC team offices. His wings were strapped to his back, go-bag clenched in a determined fist. He had to be on the helipad in fifteen minutes and had no doubt Barton would leave his ass if he wasn't there on the dot.
Making his way down the hall, he kept his head on a swivel glancing in random doorways and conference rooms before finding the one he needed. He pushed his way through the frosted glass doors of Conference Room 2B, completely unbothered by the attention he had drawn from every agent in the room. He nodded a quick acknowledgment at Agent Bennett, the leader of TAC Team Alpha before making his way to Steve and Bucky. Sam came to a stop at the head of the table.
"You got a minute?" His tone brooked no argument.
The leader of the Avengers cocked an unamused eyebrow at his friend and teammate. Leaning back in his chair, Steve gestured at the group in front of him.
"I'll have a minute in an hour."
"I'll be in Minsk in an hour, and this can't wait."
Steve made to stand and follow Sam into the hall.
"Actually, this concerns everyone in the room."
It was as though the entire room pulled themselves collectively straighter in their seats. This was highly unusual. Steve studied Sam with a question in his eyes, looking to Bucky who had taken the lead supervisory position over TAC Alpha and Bravo. With a sigh, all that Barnes could do was shrug and acquiesce. He didn't know what this was about either.
Satisfied that he had the floor, Sam rolled his shoulders.
"Darcy Lewis has no idea you've issued a security alert on her," Wilson said looking over their faces. "She sure as hell doesn't know it's at a level two. She doesn't even know what that means."
He looked around at their faces, waiting, waiting...his lips flattened into a thin, irritated line.
"No one here looks surprised."
"I don't know if I understand your meaning." For Steve's part, the man did look genuinely confused.
It was Bennett who spoke.
"With all due respect, man, this is our op. We're handling it with as much sensitivity as we can manage—"
"Come on now, don't give me that," Sam smiled ironically and turned to Steve. "You did not tell that girl about any of this."
Steve took a deep breath and held it in contemplation, trying to find a way to explain to Sam.
"No," Steve said. "She's got enough on her plate. I didn't see a reason to scare her when we've got everything under control."
"Scare her?" Sam drew back with a skeptical look on his face. "What could possibly scare her about having a group of highly trained professional killers stalking her every move in the name of safety?"
"Come on, Sam," Bucky said, frustrated and ready to get on with his day. "This is for her protection. She has no reason to be afraid of us. No one here would do anything to cause her harm."
Sam scoffed. "I know you believe that. I do. But who are you to determine what is harmful to her?"
Bucky frowned and opened his mouth to answer but Sam held up a hand.
"Yeah, yeah I'm not talking about the Winter Soldier shit or the Hydra shit." He turned to the rest of the room. "I can't say I am as surprised about this as I wish I was. But I guess I had hoped you hadn't been following that girl without her permission. This isn't the damn military – the chain of command doesn't have to be so fucking airtight all the damn time. And these two..." he jerked his thumb at the supersoldiers. "Hell, how long have they been out of the forties? Not long enough to understand the nuance of damn near a century of progress." With that, he did turn to look his friends in the eye, and they looked right back with indignance... and curiosity.
"I know we've all done some shady shit," Sam continued. "Comes with the territory, but Darcy did not consent to any of this. She wasn't made aware of any of this. How can you claim you're trying to protect her?"
For their part, Cap and Barnes were silent. Listening and – he hoped – learning. It was Bennett who spoke.
"Based on an assessment of her personality as well as current mental and emotional evaluations, it was determined that informing Miss Lewis of the change in circumstance would cause undue harm to her sense of stability in an increasingly unstable environment," The team leader told Sam, earnest but firm in his decision. "None of us took the decision or the responsibility lightly."
"Look," Sam glanced at his watch picking his bag up once again, turning to leave. "I believe that you had good intentions. The whole lot of you." He shot a dark look at Steve. "But right now, I don't give a fuck about your intentions. I give a fuck about your impact. Lewis has no idea that you've been following her for as long as you have. She has no idea the tower has been locked down to non-essential personnel since she was attacked in that damn alley. She doesn't know that you've studied her, dissected her actions, emotions, and words. She sure as hell doesn't know that you've intercepted any potential interpersonal contacts that could be deemed as a threat. Set up security perimeters around her every time she leaves the tower. She doesn't know that there is a sniper on a rooftop with her in their sightline every day and will continue to be until Hydra ceases to be a threat to her – which may very well be never at the rate we're going."
The group was quiet for a beat. It was Herrera, a bullheaded former Marine turned Avenger's agent, who broke the silence.
"Look, man, I don't know if I appreciate you telling me how to do my job. Everyone in this room determined the best course of action for Darcy Lewis. Who are you to come in here and tell us how to work a mission that you weren't assigned to?"
Sam studied Herrera, ducking his chin, and taking a moment to collect his thoughts. After a beat, he nodded to himself and gestured to the other man.
"Alright, Herrera, you've got a point," he crossed his arms. "Tell me what you know about your charge."
Agent Herrera, for his part, looked to Bennett who looked to Barnes who didn't bother looking for Cap's go-ahead before nodding for the man to continue.
"Darcy Lewis. 5'6. Female. Brown Hair. Brown Eyes. Education, some college. Former Poli—"
"Come on now, Herrera," Sam's voice was mocking. "get to the good stuff."
The agent cleared his throat, jaw ticking a bit, but did as he was told.
"She's got a scar on her left knee, from a fight she got in with her cousin when she was ten. He pushed her off a bunk bed. She landed on a Lego. She doesn't eat broccoli because it reminds her of trees. She's dramatic. Refusing to eat broccoli during an awkward date or family dinner allows her to make broad political statements that deflect any unwanted trends in conversation. She uses tampons on her period, but every month she puts five pairs of Thinx period underwear in her shopping cart online because she's convinced the tampon industry is poisoning her body, and tampons don't decompose—"
Sam held up a hand. Herrera, looking less than amused, fell silent.
"And Darcy doesn't know you know any of this about her?" Sam asked the agent, but he looked to Steve and Bucky.
"She does not."
"Does she know you?"
Herrera made a noise of confusion.
"Have you met Darcy Lewis? Has she met you? Does she know you?"
"No," Herrera said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"I get what you're going for here, Wilson." Bennett piped in. "But you understand that knowing the person we are protecting is pivotal to the job. Everyone here cares about protecting Darcy. Her personal safety is of the utmost—"
"Yeah man, I hear you. Y'all got the same script rolling over in your heads. Hell, I've even used it once or twice in the past. But I guess...the point I am trying to make here...is that I don't hear Lewis in any of this. I don't hear her knowledge or her consent. I don't hear her voice at all. And right now, your jobs be damned, your intentions be damned, that's the only thing I care about. That girl has been through the fucking wringer. That's why we're all here, isn't it? How do you think she'll feel when she finds out that the people she lives with – the people she's put a hell of a lot of trust and faith into – had her followed for what they deem is her own best interest all the while lying to her damn face about it?"
"How do you suggest we fix this then?" Steve asked. His face was carefully blank, but Sam knew him well enough by now to detect a pool of guilt hidden beneath his hypermasculine-greatest-generation façade.
"Don't tell me I need to spell it out."
"Civilians are never brought in on TAC Team intel, Sam. It's not protocol. You know I would never do anything to compromise Darcy or her sense of security. Why do you think—"
"Yo, Reed," Sam interjected, not taking his eyes off his captain. "You see Lewis without any clothes on yet?"
Agent Reed, the team's sniper, a short woman with sharp eyes and quick reflexes, tilted her lips downward at Sam's question. "You know it's not like that, Wilson."
"See—that." He snapped his finger and turned to look her in the eyes. "Is that a yes? Or are you bad at your job?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's a yes."
He turned back to Steve. "It's a yes."
Steve looked heavy and tired when he leaned back in his seat. His eyes were dark – lost in thought. He had miscalculated...to say the least. From the way Bucky shifted in his seat, he was realizing it too.
Sam's phone dinged with a threat from Barton. Without bothering to say anymore, the Falcon left Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and TAC Alpha to contemplate their choices.
When his boots landed on the helipad, the impatient look Barton shot him was enough to make his bad mood just a little worse. It would be a long way to Minsk.
Four men and two women filed through the doorway of the conference room where Steve and Bucky were still sat in deep conversation. Darcy awkwardly moved out of their way as the group passed her by with a chorus of 'ma'ams' and silent nods. They were dressed business casual, but she could tell by their gait and the obvious pull of Kevlar underneath the starched fabric of their shirts that they were agents.
She paid them little thought beyond that, waiting until the final person cleared the area before tapping out a light knock on the glass door, and leaning against the frame. Both men looked up at the sound, startled for once. She smirked. They shared a look before Steve nodded her in.
"Hey there superdudes," Darcy said in heavy vocal fry. "How's it hangin?"
She plopped down in one of the roller chairs, kicking her feet up on the conference table and winking at Barnes. Surprised by the quick staccato rhythm in her chest when he dipped his head suavely in her direction, Darcy tried to tamper it down. She chose not to acknowledge the smug look he shot her. Fucking superhearing. Turning away from Bucky, Darcy focused her attention on Steve...whose eyebrows had shot into his hairline at the exchange. She coughed to get his attention.
When his eyebrows refused to return to normal, she nudged his arm with her sneaker-clad foot. He responded by rolling his eyes and shoving her feet off the table.
"Have some respect for the furniture, Lewis."
"What? This is how Tony does it!"
Steve leveled her with a look.
Darcy pulled a face, sitting up straighter in her chair and placing her palms flat down on the surface of the table.
"Ookay then," Darcy said. "Well, here I was thinking you'd be glad to see me, Captain America. I guess I was wrong."
He snorted and leaned back in his seat, waiting for her to get to the point.
There was a beat of silence. Steve waiting for Darcy. Darcy waiting for dramatic effect. Bucky waiting and watching the two most awkward people alive be awkward together.
Then with a less than graceful transition back to her feet, Darcy stood and pivoted, gesturing for them to follow her out the door.
"Come on boys; we're going on a field trip."
By the time they got to Queens, there was a light mist in the air. Something akin to rain but not quite. The trio made their way down the street, hands in pockets, relaxed. If Steve and Bucky exchanged tense glances with each other on the subway ride there, Darcy didn't notice. And if Bucky placed himself bodily between her and a suspicious-looking bystander, Darcy didn't bat an eye. She had chattered away to Steve without a care in the world, not even stopping to question when he placed a nervous hand on her arm and herded her up the stairs of the nearest exit when they reached their stop.
Darcy felt lighter than she had in some time. She ducked into a Starbucks, dragging the two superdudes in with her. She and Steve walked out with lattes; Bucky walked out with water because he was lame.
Despite all the care the duo had taken to be cautious for Darcy's sake, it took Steve a minute to realize Darcy wasn't looking ahead of them or watching where she walked. No. Darcy was watching the rooftops, casually sipping her drink. Only stopping once – staring. Steve followed her eye line, Bucky too, but they couldn't discern what in the hell she was staring at. And then Darcy cut her way across the street. Behind her, drivers and pedestrians alike were cussing and yelling in her wake, and one pair of perplexed supersoldiers were hurrying their step to keep up. They watched her cut into an alley and duck out of sight. Nervous, they broke into a jog.
When they reached her, Darcy was crouched next to a dumpster tearing with little luck at a backpack that had been...adhered...to a wall somehow. She grunted and gave another tug before turning to the pair with a begrudging look.
"Hey, you, with the metal arm," She gestured at Bucky. "Come clear up this webbing for me please."
"Webbing?" Bucky blanched, leaning closer to stare at the substance.
"Yes, webbing. I'll explain later. Just pull," She said gesturing to the backpack.
Bucky did as he was told, easily freeing the bag but to his own detriment. The stringy, white substance that coated the thing clung to his metal arm, getting into the joints, and staying there. The artificial nerve endings in the vibranium fired off aggressively – urging him to shake the stuff away and he tried but to no avail.
Darcy hummed in gratitude, taking the bag from Bucky and swinging it over her shoulder. She headed deeper into the alleyway.
"Darcy," Steve's voice was stern. "This doesn't seem to be the first time you've done this...whatever this is."
"It's not," she said, cheery as she walked up to a fire escape, jumping up a few times with her arms outstretched, trying to pull the ladder down.
Steve opened his mouth to begin a lecture on personal safety and self-preservation but was interrupted by her cry of success. She didn't wait to see if they would follow, just began to climb.
As they cut their way across the rooftop, Steve couldn't help but stare horrified at Bucky. Did he know that Darcy was into...whatever this was? Or was this news to him? Bucky pulled a face and shrugged. He'd never seen this. He sent a quick glance over his shoulder to where he knew Reed had her eye on them. He knew for a fact the chatter on the comms would be agitated, to say the least, and for a moment Bucky pitied anyone of the receiving end of Bennett's aggravation. Darcy had gone rogue, and it would give any TAC leader grey hairs to be on duty for it.
"Darcy," Steve put on his Captain America voice when he said her name. Eyes grave as he glanced around them. This was far too reckless for someone as heavily targeted as she was.
"Steve," She said back to him, seemingly without a care in the world.
"This isn't—" He started but she wasn't listening. No. She was picking her way over to the edge of the building. Steve and Bucky froze momentarily from an uncharacteristic overload of shock. Darcy Lewis, their friend who they swore to protect from harm, their friend who was deathly afraid of heights and falling, that Darcy Lewis was standing at the edge of a building. They watched in horror as she looked down. Watched as she gulped, swallowing down a wave of fear as she registered the distance to the ground. Just as she nodded to herself, Bucky's body caught up with his mind. She climbed up onto the ledge. Bucky moved. She reached for the ladder of the fire escape the next building over. It was less than a foot away really. Before her foot could even lift off the ground, Bucky wrapped a strong arm around her torso and pulled her away.
Steve, who hadn't been far behind him, was fuming. Bucky was dumbfounded. His heart was pounding in his chest. Bennett, somewhere out of sight, far enough away that Bucky couldn't hear him, was cussing up a storm into his comm, kicking the shit out of the nearest dumpster.
"Darcy you can't just—" Steve turned away from her, swiping an aggravated hand down his face and taking a deep breath to calm down. "What are you doing?"
She looked at the two of them. Her eyes traveled first to Steve who was red-faced and angry, then to Bucky who still held her firmly with one hand. Her eyes were full of complete and genuine innocence. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Steve understood a new level of Sam's concern. Darcy really had no idea.
Everything they thought she had learned about her standing with the rest of the world, hadn't occurred to her at all. Not really. Clint's warnings about constant vigilance. Bucky's persistence on keeping in touch. Steve's lectures on self-preservation. The new tech Tony had gifted her. None of it had hit home. She really hadn't known.
Fuck, part of Bucky knew he shouldn't be surprised. Why the fuck would a non-combatant civilian resident of the tower just assume anything about what they do for work and the security measures they put into place. Bucky and Steve spoke a language they never bothered to teach Darcy. They thought differently than her. What was obvious to them was extreme and foreign to their friend.
Bucky had hoped that Sam had been overreacting, but he also knew that wasn't Wilson's style.
Darcy shucked off Bucky's hand. "I don't know why you guys are freaking out, I've been through way worse than a fire escape."
She said this as though it should be obvious.
She said it as if the fact that she had been through hell somehow excused putting herself in danger in the future. Bucky hadn't realized – and now he was becoming aware of the fact – that his ignorance had been willful.
He'd never wanted to realize how oblivious she was. Never wanted to break the news to her about how much danger she was in... because he didn't want to be the one to take that last vestige of security away from her. Bucky hadn't wanted to be the bad guy in her story, and in avoiding it, he'd actually helped his fear become a reality.
Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find words to express all that he was thinking to Darcy and even more...all that she needed to know. He looked around himself then, registering where they were and how much honesty could wait until they were back on the ground. He exhaled deeply through his nose before shaking his head and shooting his friend a tragic look. She was...starting to register there was something that wasn't being said, but Steve spoke before she could voice her questions.
"At least let us help you get to the next building alive please, Darce."
For her part, Darcy was frustrated by her friends' odd behavior. Steve was looking at her like someone had died. She wanted to address it; she really did. But she didn't want to lose track of the kid now that she'd already like climbed a ladder and all that. Babysitting was hella difficult, and that was with normal children...not ones that swung from buildings with artificial spider webs they illegally cooked up in AP Chem. Instead of asking the litany of questions that were forming in her mind, Darcy bit her tongue. Hiking the backpack further up her shoulder, she gestured for Steve to lead the way.
With a wave of relief at the bullet he had dodged, Steve hopped up onto the ledge. He pulled down the ladder and reached out his hand. She took it without a care in the world. She let him pull her off the edge of the building. Trusted him completely as she dangled helplessly in midair for one long millisecond. Didn't bat an eye when she landed securely in front of him, comfortably resting against the rungs of the ladder, unbothered by his hands which hovered cautiously at her back.
Bucky watched all of this from below the pair, waiting until Darcy had landed securely on the next roof and cleared the edge before launching himself past the fire escape, landing just a few feet from where she stood.
She just smiled at him, didn't have any shock or fear or awe within her that she needed to hide. Darcy was just a girl out on the town with two of her closest friends. And Bucky felt like a damn fool that he was only just realizing how deeply her trust in them had grown.
It was on this rooftop that Steve and Bucky saw what Darcy had been looking for from the moment they exited their train. Some twenty yards away, perched on the edge of this building, and eating a damn sandwich, was a figure clad head to toe in a red and blue suit. His face was covered and neither of them knew anything about him except that he was possibly friends with Stark. Well...not friends...but something. He was something to Stark. The little information they had about Queens' masked vigilante was not fully fleshed out by any means.
It was with a wave of frustration that they realized Darcy trusted this...person...too. She pulled the bag off her shoulder, making her way to the figure.
"What did I tell you about leaving your shit behind dumpsters you weirdo?" Spiderman snapped to attention, pulling himself to his full height before dropping into a crouch. The eyes on his suit had bugged out wide in surprise, mask resting just above the tip of his nose exposing a crumb-covered mouth.
"Come on, Darcy! You made me drop my sandwich!"
She cackled, nudging the bag over to him to drive her point further home. But the masked vigilante wasn't looking at her or his bag. No. He was slowly registering the presence of the two men just over Darcy's shoulder.
"Holy—Captain America," Peter's voice was high pitched and breathless, he jolted forward as though to go wrap his hero in a death grip of admiration but pulled himself back. He coughed and cleared his throat, putting his hands on his hips like superman and then dropping them to his sides.
Steve and Bucky shared shocked looks. This...vigilante...was a damn kid. Steve moved forward to introduce himself, startling the kid whose voice cracked before he stumbled backward. The supersoldiers watched in horror as the kid flailed and promptly dropped off the edge of the building.
Heart in his throat, Steve lept forward to catch him but pulled back in shock when a string of webbing shot up and latched onto the wall where the kid had previously stood. A body launched itself up toward Steve, using the web to fling himself back onto firmer ground. He hit the deck, rolled a couple of times, and popped up onto the balls of his feet, shaking off his nervous energy. He adjusted his mask to fit properly over his face before hurrying over to Steve and Bucky, hand outstretched as he walked.
"Captain America," his voice was shot from nerves. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. You really have no idea. I'm Peterman. Crap. SpiderPete. Crap, crap no forget I said that. I'm—"
"Spiderman." Bucky snapped his fingers and pointed at the kid. "That's what they're calling you right?"
The eye on the kid's suit twitched a bit. And Darcy thought for a brief second that Peter was gonna wet himself in all the excitement.
"Oookay, Spiderkid," She said, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Obviously, I may not have thought this one through..."
"I asked you not to call me Spiderkid," he whispered to her out the side of his mouth. "It's man. Spiderman."
"My bad, Spiderman," Darcy smirked and nudged him with her elbow. "Steve, Bucky, this is the kid. He calls himself Spiderman. Tony calls him Underoos. I call him a pain in the ass that doesn't take care of his shit."
Darcy smiled a vicious little smile and turned to face him, jerking her thumb over to where she had left his bag. "That's the last time I fetch that shit from behind dumpsters. Next time, I am marching on up to Aunt May and telling her exactly what you're up to out here. Capiche?"
There was a beat of silence. The kid looked nervously from Darcy to Steve then Bucky. He cleared his throat.
"Capiche."
That's when the hair on Peter's arms stood on end. He could feel danger rolling down his spine. His eyes flitted nervously around them. When he saw a black dot on a rooftop some distance away, Spiderman lunged for Darcy.
"Get down!" Spiderman cried out, pushing her to the floor. He grunted as Bucky ripped him off her and clasped a vibranium hand around both of his wrists, holding down the mechanism that would give him access to his web-shooters. Steve pulled Darcy up and behind him, turning to face Spiderman.
"What the hell do you—"
"Listen to me! Listen—please sir. I have this thing. It's a sense thing. You gotta believe me there's a sniper on the roof over there! I have really good eyes. You gotta believe me!"
"Wait—what?!" Darcy turned around to face the space behind her, but she couldn't make out whatever it was that Peter could see. Bucky followed Spiderman's sightline, sighing into the sinking feeling in his gut when he saw the lone dot on the roofline that he knew was Agent Reed.
Steve, for his part, had frozen with dread. Darcy let out a nervous hum, gripping onto the back of Steve's shirt. Her eyes met Bucky's like a punch in the gut. Body vibrating with nervous energy, every muscle in her body was prepped to run. She'd done this before. If he said the word, she would run. She wouldn't stop until the world stopped turning or someone came to find her. Her hands were clenched into terrified fists – if she had to fight, she would do everything Clint taught her, and still, it probably wouldn't be enough. But she would do it, nonetheless. Her teeth had pulled her bottom lip in to worry it away. Already he could see a drop of blooding gathering there. She was the embodiment of a desperate need to survive. She had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.
Sam's words from that morning hit him full force in the chest. What could possibly scare her about having a group of highly trained professional killers stalking her every move? Bucky closed his eyes against it.
Everything. Everything about that would scare her.
It's hard to explain the moment an illusion shatters. Hard to explain the depth of how it feels to watch everything you thought you knew freeze in place, see the curtains pull back, see the puppets for their strings.
They told her everything.
There were three sets of eyes looking at her own. She was looking at them and all she could think about was how many more eyes they had watching her, ones that she couldn't see and hadn't known about lurking in the shadows of a world she never got a choice but to be in. The whole world was quieter than it ever had been. But there was a loud ringing in her ears, and she felt like she had, a whole lifetime ago, when she fell through the hole the Hulk punched in the tower. Like that first time. When falling was new. Dangerous. When she thought it was actually the end for her. This was like that, only she couldn't tell what exactly was going to die when she hit the ground.
She was just...kind of...frozen by it.
She knew she'd have to move or say something eventually, but it's like her whole body just kinda...stopped.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered Peter's nervous fidgeting, his earnest desire to help but he was young, and he didn't know yet that there was no complete solution for this problem. It just was. Steve looked like he was wracked with guilt. He probably was. Darcy knew her friend – he'd done what he thought was right. And that had turned out to be wrong. Bucky was blank. She wasn't looking at the man she thought she knew – he had retreated into a darker, safer part of himself. He wouldn't come out right now. She didn't want him to.
At some point, after how long Darcy didn't know, the sounds from the street came back to her. The windchill rose her skin into tiny bumps. The mist from earlier turned to rain. And Darcy was suddenly hyperaware of everything. Of the tight, clenching feeling that had her chest in a death grip. Of how many breaths she had taken since her mind had blinked back into awareness. Of the way her feet were firmly planted on the rooftop, but her head felt wobbly and her body felt like it might not be stable.
She felt trapped.
There was nowhere to go.
She felt seen. Inherently. At every turn. In the worst possible way.
Where could she go?
Her hands were nervously wringing themselves and she fought the urge to sit down on the rooftop and draw her fingertips over the surface until the pads of her fingers were raw.
Sam Wilson's voice was not in her head to walk her through a breathing exercise right now. Her own voice had vacated with him. It was just Darcy alone on a rooftop, with her anxiety and her sadness and a handful of people she thought she knew.
There were black spots in her vision and Darcy took a deep breath, trying to clear them out. It was a gasping, wretched sound.
She took another. And then another. And then—
"Get me the fuck off this roof," She breathed out, holding her abdomen like she was keeping her guts from pouring out of an invisible wound.
Steve moved forward to help her, but she backed up a step, holding up a hand.
"Not you," she bit out, before turning to Peter.
The kid, for his part, didn't bat an eye. Just did as she asked him to and helped her down.
When her feet hit the pavement, Darcy started moving and wondered if she would ever stop. She felt like she would walk forever – until her feet fell off or she fell off the world altogether. Peter watched her go, stomach sinking, confused by what he had just witnessed happen.
Just as he was thinking maybe he should follow her, and make sure she got home safe, a hand settled gently on his shoulder.
Peter looked up at Captain America who gave him a solemn shake of the head.
"She's got people watching her back for now. Give her some space, kid. "
There was a white-hot, confused kind of rage bubbling in Peter's chest. He pushed Captain America's hand off his shoulder and turned to face him, pulling himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders. Steve looked down at him, serious but for a glimmer of fond recognition in his eyes. Before Peter could unleash all of his pent-up emotions on his childhood hero, the older man gestured for him to head back up to the roof.
"You and I need to have a talk, Queens." Steve sounded tired.
Back on the rooftop, Peter was trying not to stare too hard at Bucky Barnes who remained frozen in the spot where they'd left him. It was like he had been powered down into sleep mode – like he was waiting for someone to come along and reactivate him.
Steve gave his old friend a long look but didn't touch him or talk to him. Instead, he turned to face the Spiderkid.
"I'm sorry that you had to be there to witness that."
Peter huffed out a deep frustrated breath through his nose, pacing a bit before turning back to the older man.
"I'm not," he said. "Why would you do something like that to Darcy, Captain America?"
"Call me, Steve."
"Fine, Captain Steve—"
"Just Steve."
"I don't care!" Peter cried out in exasperation. "Captain America, or Captain Steve or just Steve. Why would you do that to your friend? To my friend! Darcy doesn't deserve to have all that going on behind her back!"
Steve nodded, looking out at the skyline, arms hanging without defensiveness at his sides while Peter yelled.
"Aren't you gonna say anything? You're supposed to be the good guy, and now you're having people followed?!"
Steve looked back at Peter with a gentleness that the kid didn't understand, but he felt the anger flare further at it either way.
"Don't look at me like that. Don't be patronizing. You look like Mr. Stark when you do that! Take this seriously!"
Steve moved over to the ledge, propping one leg over the side, keeping the other firmly planted on the rooftop. He nodded for Peter to do the same.
"First, I gotta ask you to come back to Avenger's Tower with me. Tony can be there if it makes you more comfortable, but Darcy Lewis has serious people out looking for her. At the moment, you're both a target and a threat to her safety."
"I would never threaten—"
"No, you wouldn't. You got a good head on your shoulders, Queens. And Tony trusts you, which makes you alright in my book," Steve said. "But my statement stands."
Peter looked out across the rooftops, still feeling uneasy, but unsure why. He looked back to Steve.
"Mr. Stark will be there?"
"You have my word." Steve nodded.
"Okay then, but you—"
"I can't justify my actions, kid. I made a judgment call in a complicated situation and it was the wrong one. I messed up real bad, and I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it up to Darcy. She's one of the few people in this world I think of as family, and I don't intend to do wrong by her if I can help it." Steve sighed.
Peter nodded, still frustrated but biting it down. He made to get up, to follow Steve back to Avenger's Tower, but Steve stopped him.
"One more thing." Steve met him with sad eyes. "You said I'm supposed to be the good guy."
Internally, Peter let out one long, childish 'duh,' but externally he waited for Captain America to make his point.
"There's no such thing."
The kid opened his mouth to protest but Steve shook his head.
"Start thinking you're the good guy and you'll never accept that you've done something wrong. Think of yourself as the bad guy, and you'll never accept you can do something right. We make choices. Each choice has an impact. Each impact, a consequence. I do my best to be a good person, to make the right choice with the best impact...sometimes I get it wrong. Hold yourself to your actions, Queens. What people project onto you... that's all just noise in the back of your mind."
Peter took a deep breath and released it. Processing everything that had happened in such a short span of time, and trying to understand the piece of wisdom his idol imparted onto him.
As he breathed, Peter thought about noise. He understood noise, probably too well ever since he got bit by that spider. He worked then to clear some of it from his mind, to focus on his senses and Captain America's words. He breathed like he practiced when the world got too loud. Or when his emotions were too strong. As his senses calmed down, Peter felt more grounded. It was then that he realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that some of that heightened emotion he had been feeling and directing at Steve...hadn't diminished at all.
Peter stood up, looking down at his suit-covered arms, feeling the hair still standing on end beneath the material. Steve was watching him intently when Peter's head snapped up.
"Darcy's still in danger."
The older man's face shuddered. Gone was the friendly neighborhood hero schtick Steve had put on for Peter's sake. In its place was a fearsome, and calculated leader. It was in that moment that Steve's words and their meaning truly sunk in and Peter remembered the truth — more than a good man, or a hero or an Avenger — at the very core of his being, Captain America was a weapon of war.
A vibranium hand clamped down on Peter's shoulder, turning him abruptly and jerking him forward. Peter came face to face with the Winter Soldier.
"Where?"
Darcy had been moving for what felt like a lifetime but had probably only been a few minutes. Her stomach was in knots. Her chest was tight, and her hands were clenched into anxious fists.
She kept checking over her shoulder to see if she could spot the people following her but to no avail. It was all just pedestrians in the crowd, no one remarkable to take note of. She felt like a stupid idiot.
She wanted to cry. Just as her nose started to burn, she tamped it down. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, frantically wiping at her nose and eyes - trying to clear away the hurt long enough to think.
"You know what? No. I'm sick of this shit. Fuck Barnes. Fuck Loki. Fuck fucking Steve Fuck Rogers." Darcy turned, ducked around a corner into an alleyway, stripping off the ring Natasha had given her...suddenly unable to trust that Stark hadn't loaded the taser with a tracking device. All of these things that she had accumulated. All this shit. She wanted it gone. All of it. She chucked Loki's pin into a nearby dumpster and took her cell phone out of her pocket, stripping out the battery and stomping on it...when it didn't break, she threw everything against the wall of the building across from her, huffing out large angry claustrophobic breaths.
Why did they always treat her like a—like a fucking doll? Bucky's face flashed through her mind and she fought down a wave of guilt at the resentment she felt toward him too, despite how much he had been a friend to her as of late. They all had been. But Darcy was tired. And she couldn't breathe. And she felt watched. Always watched. She didn't have any space.
She had no idea if Loki was watching her pee and get dressed in the morning or if Jarvis had a log somewhere of everything she'd ever said, ready at a moment's notice to quote her or show a video of her that she didn't even know had been taken. She was sick of people saving her without her consent. Sick of people apparently assigning teams of jack-booted thugs to follow her around for months despite her lack of consent. God, she felt so fucking violated and she hated that she was supposed to be grateful because the Avengers only wanted to keep her alive.
Nope. Not this time.
Darcy peeked quickly around the corner and for the first time spotted what she had been too oblivious to see before. The man from the café, the one that had broken all of the dishes and intercepted her conversation with Loki who had been disguised as a waitress at the time. He was standing across the street, sweeping his eyes frantically over the swath of pedestrians. His mouth was moving subtly, which meant the rest of her stalkers were looking for her as well. To take her back to the tower and lock her up for her own safety.
But she'd done that for years now and had thought she'd finally earned her freedom, her dignity, back. On the roof of a building a block down, Darcy saw a small black dot move. The fucking sniper. She pressed herself further into the alley to keep out of their sightline. She had two out of six spotted, but she'd have to take her chances. If Clint had taught her anything, it was to keep moving. If you freeze, you're dead. Or...in Darcy's case...just...caught.
But she didn't want to be caught. So, she moved further into the alley. She walked up to the nearest homeless person and offered him her jacket. He looked at her suspiciously but snatched it out of her hands anyway.
She pulled her hair out of her ponytail and spread it around her shoulders trying to cover her face. Out the other side of the alley, Darcy clocked a man and a woman on her left, some 30 feet away who were watching the street for any sign of her. They were currently facing the other direction, so she shot out of the alley and into a group of teenage boys who were arguing over some game she'd never heard of. They looked up when she joined their group, staring at her curiously, but didn't stop walking.
"Hey," Darcy cringed. "Sorry, I'm just trying to avoid my crazy ex and figured I'd be less noticeable if I was walking with you...you don't mind, do you?" She batted her eyes, and the boys, in their budding notions of masculinity puffed up with a sense of purpose that was probably hugely problematic. Darcy didn't stop to dwell on how skeezy she felt. The bit worked. They didn't think she was weird. A couple of them went back to chatting about their game, but more subdued. The one next to her was quiet, a red tint coloring his ears and cheeks. If she wasn't freaking the fuck out she would have melted at how adorable he was. As it was, she kept with them for as long as she could, glancing casually back over her shoulder. Her heart stalled a bit when she noticed the agents studying her back intently. She faced forward.
Clint's voice in her head was telling her not to panic. They saw you see them, Darcy. If you panic or run, they'll know you're their target. Stay calm. Keep walking. Stay in the crowd.
Darcy needed a disguise. She coaxed the group closer to a sports shop, saying a quick thanks to the boys before ducking in. Inside she bought a ballcap – cringing at how Steve she was being about this whole makeshift disguise thing – and a shirt with a Yankees logo on it. There was a small twinge of satisfaction at how much that would annoy the two Brooklyn boys who still harbored a deep hatred for the Yankees and had yet to get over the fact that the Dodgers had abandoned their town.
Sliding a pair of sunglasses on her face, she hoped at the very least that she looked like a tourist to the agents, and her face was covered enough that Jarvis's facial recognition software would take longer to recognize her.
She ducked back out of the shop. Unable to spot any of her security team. The nerves were making her punchy. If they're good. Clint's voice sounded. And you can't see them. It's very possible that they see you.
Darcy turned, trying to stay calm but still very much not ready to confront her keepers. Heart thudding in her chest, she set a brisk pace as she made her way down the street. Her eyes swept frantically over the faces of the crowd. She knew they were there. She knew they could see her.
God part of her was so fucking angry at Steve for putting her in this position. She had to fucking give away her favorite jacket and get ripped off at a sports store so she could basically have a day with actual privacy because the powers that be decided they had the authority to rob her of her own freedom in the name of safety.
Her breath was coming in short gasps and Darcy was beginning to get frustrated at her panic. The city suddenly felt very claustrophobic. Like there would never be enough space to run.
Behind her a car's breaks squealed in the street, there was a slight crunch and she cringed for whoever had crashed but didn't stop moving. When she heard boots thudding on the pavement behind her, Darcy's step stuttered. She turned around and the whole world slowed to a stop. Just a few yards away, a group of men dressed head to toe in black tactical gear was making its way toward her. Darcy's eyes zeroed in on the subtle patch they wore on their shoulders. Hydra. Her heart stalled. Her breath refused to come. And they were getting closer and closer. It was her own voice that broke Darcy's trance this time. Run.
Darcy ripped off the ball cap and sunglasses, hoping that her team would spot her, turning on her heel and booking it down the street. She shoved people out of the way, heart in her throat at the thudding footsteps on the pavement behind her that told her the men would gain on her soon. The van they had stopped on the street was in motion once again, zipping through traffic to cut her off before she got away. And then with a flood of relief, Darcy saw him. The agent from the café. The man she had only moments ago been trying so hard to get away from. He was just ahead of her, running full speed in her direction, gun drawn. She let out a sob of relief but didn't slow down. He was almost to her. She stretched out a hand as if it would help her reach him faster.
Then something tangled in her hair. A hand. It snatched her in a fist and jerked her head backward despite the forward momentum of her body. It ripped her scalp, jarring her neck, and flooding her vision with black and blue spots.
The person who had her by the hair had come to a full stop, did not stumble when she crashed into his body. She heard his voice growl in her ear to keep still and stop struggling.
The pedestrians around her were pushed back against the walls of restaurants and apartment buildings in horror. Some were filming. No one tried to help. The nameless agent, with the deep voice and the nice jeans. He was shouting frantically into his comm, pushing his way through the gridlock of people. He was too far away. He didn't have a clear shot. The man who held Darcy held her as a shield.
The last thing Darcy saw, before they shoved a hood over her head, was her own reflection, distorted in the window of the restaurant where they caught her. She heard the screams of the witnesses as her face disappeared underneath the black fabric and the sound of the van door sliding violently open.
The man's grip on her arms was bruising. When he threw her in the back, no one caught her. Her face hit the floor. Someone jerked her body up and secured zip ties around her wrists tightly. Darcy wondered if she could lose a hand from lack of circulation. They pulled her roughly off the ground and into a seat.
Then the van peeled away from the curb, leaving a wave of terror around the space where Darcy once stood.
