tw: rape mention, police brutality mention
Chapter Five: Circular Story
"You are not dead, although you were." -Sylvia Plath
September 5, 2012 - New York, NY
"Oh Captain my Captain!" Darcy called as she swept into the gym. At the familiar sound of her voice, Steve looked up from the punching bag. The brunette grinned, making no effort to hide the long once-over she gave him. Steve would've been flustered by it, but he was not immune to staring at her, either. He just hid it better.
"I didn't expect you to be up this early, Miss Lewis," Steve said, pulling on his handwraps until they came undone.
"Never went to sleep," Darcy said, shrugging. "Jane made a breakthrough in her research and I had to stay up to make sure she didn't hurt herself in the process." She took a seat on the bench, watching as Steve unwrapped his hands and tossed the bandages into his gym bag. "And now, if I go to sleep, I'll ruin my entire sleep schedule. So I have to stay awake for the rest of the day."
"I see," he said.
"Also," she continued, "it's Darcy."
He smiled at her for that. "Alright, Darcy. How can I help?"
She shrugged again, this time coquettishly. Steve knew that she had more planned than she was letting on. After several days in each other's company, he'd picked up on some of her habits. She swore like a sailor, insisted on checking up on all the building scientists, and lost her glasses constantly. But she also had a tendency to downplay herself—like now. She clearly had a plan she wasn't quite ready to clue him in on.
Darcy stood up from the bench and took a step towards him, so they were toe-to-toe. He raised an eyebrow at her brazenness, amused. "Spend the day with me?" she asked.
"Okay," he said, before thinking about it. He was supposed to be training today, but Steve quickly brushed the thought aside. Darcy Lewis was much more interesting, and time spent with her was worth much more than time alone in the gym. He'd been frequenting the boxing ring Tony had built in the Tower almost daily for months now, spending hours beating away at bags to avoid confronting any of his various traumas. Even five months after waking up from the ice, the war still seemed like yesterday. The Chitauri certainly hadn't helped much, and things had gotten especially worse since Audrey had left for her mission. He couldn't sleep through the night, or if he did, he was plagued by nightmares of Bucky on the train, Peggy's last kiss, or his daughter lying unconscious on the pavement.
As helpful as the gym was, distraction wise, it was rarely fun. Spending time with Darcy, on the other hand, made him happy-something that tended to be all too rare.
"I was thinking we could start with breakfast," Darcy said.
Steve chuckled, and looked down at his hands, smoothing over his bruised knuckles. The marks would be gone by noon. He met her eyes, bright blue and hopeful. "Breakfast sounds good."
September 5, 2012 - Paris, France
Although Audrey woke up in an empty bed, Delphine lingered in the room in a hundred different ways. The pillow still smelled of her shampoo. Her jacket was draped over the back of the desk chair. And the butterflies she left in Audrey's stomach were persistent as ever.
The blonde hit the off button on the hotel clock's alarm. It was 5 in the morning in Paris, and she hadn't slept much during the night. Despite her exhaustion, she threw the covers off her body and got dressed to meet with Clint and Natasha.
Delphine and Kate were already at the base when Audrey arrived. Despite the fact that they were meeting in a windowless room, Kate donned cat-eye sunglasses.
"The mission didn't actually require you to get drunk," Clint teased, setting down a bottle of water in front of her at the conference table.
Kate groaned. "Do you think I wanted this to happen? Henry was crying and he challenged me to a drinking contest."
"You could've said no."
"And then you guys wouldn't have had a way out."
"Aren't you always bragging about hustling men?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
Audrey watched the exchange with an eyebrow raised, helping herself to coffee from the pot on the counter. For a highly covert DGSE base, it looked a lot like the break room in the SHIELD Human Resources department where she'd worked for a few months in the 90s. The beige carpet, white walls, and mint green cabinets weren't the most interesting things to look at.
"Well, thank you for your brave sacrifice, Bishop," Clint said, settling down next to Kate. Audrey took a seat across from him, and Delphine settled next to her. She gave Audrey a quick, knowing smile, before turning her attention to Natasha and Jaspar, who were sorting through files and discussing things in hushed French.
"Yeah, whatever," Kate said. "They have advil in France, right?"
"As much fun as this conversation is, we've got some news," Natasha interrupted.
As the assassin stood up, Audrey noted her outfit with some combination of confusion, amusement, and admiration. Even if she'd lived with her for the last few months, Audrey was continually surprised by the things Natasha kept in her wardrobe. At the moment, she was wearing a KISS: Live in Concert tee shirt, yoga pants, and a pair of red Doc Martens. It was strange to see her out of her uniform for SHIELD business.
"We were able to trace the files you picked up, Carter," Natasha announced. "The company mentioned, DIVUS? They're Bardot's supplier. Based in Moscow."
"What do they do?" Delphine asked.
Natasha and Clint shared a glance, as if they were communicating telepathically. Audrey had gotten used to this. They'd been partners for so long that they seemed to understand each other better than anyone else. Sometimes including themselves. For the months she'd worked with them, they often managed to hold entire conversations just through raised eyebrows and lip twitches.
"They're a scholarship fund," Clint said, slightly hesitant. "Specifically for arts students."
"What the hell is a scholarship fund doing selling alien technology?" Kate asked.
At the head of the table, Natasha looked at Clint again. "Exactly my question."
September 5, 2012 - New York, NY
At Stan's Diner, Darcy squinted at a man on a bench across the street. "Here's my guess. His name is Geoff-spelled G-E-O-F-F, not J-E-F-F like a normal person. He's a real estate mogul. He inherited his business from his dad, but he's the middle son, so he had to fight his older brother for it. His biggest kink is…" She paused to ponder for a moment, and then her face lit up. "Gentrification!"
Steve gave her a look. "Gentrification?"
"Yep, I'm sure," Darcy said, nodding. She lifted her smoothie to take a long sip. "And at the moment, he's on the phone with his daughter, named So-phee-uh, but it's spelled S-O-F-Y-A. She's a business major at Yale. She's asking him to donate a library so they don't expel her."
"And you're confident in these predictions?" Steve asked.
"One-hundred percent," Darcy assured him. "Now it's your turn."
They'd been occupying this booth for two hours now, and he figured that the only reason they weren't kicking them out was because Steve had ordered so much food to begin with that he was basically covering what three separate parties would've paid.
Darcy had introduced him to the concept of people-watching as a way to kill time until their orders arrived, but he'd been enjoying her snap judgments so much that he kept the game going. Steve had people-watched before, sort of. Over the summer, he and Audrey had gone cross-country on a road trip, and he'd spent hours sketching people in museums and diners then. But for Darcy, that wasn't enough.
"You have to give them a story," she'd insisted. "It really adds complexity to the whole thing."
And so she'd pointed to a blonde woman pushing a stroller outside and launched into her life story. And then Steve had done the same for a passing couple. And then they'd gone back and forth for hours.
"It's my turn?" Steve asked. "Okay. Let's see." He glanced out the window, catching sight of a man walking his dog, a toy poodle. "His name is Brutus."
"The man or the dog?"
"The dog, obviously. The man's name is Johnny."
"Last name?"
Steve paused, glancing outside again, where the sky was overcast. "Storm."
Darcy snorted. "Okay. But if you're gonna give him a really badass name, he has to have a dark past."
Steve considered this. "His name is Johnny, the dog's name is Brutus. Johnny is actually deathly afraid of dogs, but he owes someone a debt, and now that he and Brutus have lived together for years, Brutus knows everything about him. In order to escape his wrath, he'd have to start a new life somewhere else."
"Sick. I'm intrigued."
"Thank you," Steve said. "Your turn."
Darcy nodded, and as she stacked up the several empty plates on the table, began. "Okay. I'm gonna make some assumptions. Age wise, I'm guessing...early nineties. But in really great shape, so he could pass for late-maybe even mid-eighties. Extremely patriotic. His name is Steven. Despite being the second most senior member of the Avengers, he's still getting the hang of things. And his favorite song is…'Grand Ol' Flag.'"
Smirking, Steve asked, "Is that how it is?"
"I don't know," Darcy challenged, leaning in. "You tell me."
"Well, first of all, my favorite song is not 'Grand Ol' Flag'."
"Then what is it?"
"Haven't found it yet."
"We'll have to fix that sometime. But anyways."
"Anyways. I don't know if I'm extremely patriotic. I think we've got kind of a good thing going here in America in a lot of ways, but there's still a lot I'm critical of. We don't always live up to what we're supposed to stand for, and even if a lot of that changed while I was in the ice, there's work to do."
Darcy nodded. "We've made progress, but not enough of it."
"Exactly. I don't like bullies. They're still here, they're just better at hiding it."
"You know, I was a poli-sci major in college, and that's something that always bothered me. We wanna act like we're so far away from all the bad shit America's done, but it's still happening. People still cross the street if they see homeless people. Rapists are in Congress. We let cops brutalize Black communities. We're not as great as we think we are."
"I guess I just feel a responsibility to do something about it," Steve said. "I ended up doing a lot of that through fighting-back...before, and even with Loki. But there's more to it than that, isn't there?"
"Way more," Darcy agreed. "You know, we could find things to do for that. You guys could organize fundraisers, or volunteer. People would listen to you. You're Captain-frickin-America."
He'd never really thought about it like that. The shield, the cowel, and the uniform had always been associated with a war for him. He was Steve Rogers during the day, and then he suited up when there was a battle to fight. Back in the 40s, that was all the title had meant to him. But maybe there was more he could be—more than Steve alone and Captain America at work. More than a soldier, and more than propaganda.
"I'd like that," he said. Darcy beamed. "But now it's my turn."
"Alright, Captain, go ahead."
He rolled his eyes at her. Darcy's jaw dropped.
"Steven Rogers, did you just roll your eyes?" she demanded, disbelieving. "I've taught you so well."
"You're just trying to distract from the fact that I'm about to guess your life story."
"Maybe. Is it working?"
"No."
"Damn."
He looked at her, with her crooked glasses and her bright blue eyes. "Darcy Lewis. Twenty-five. Culver University graduate. Mean taser abilities. Somehow the only person who manages to get through to Jane Foster, and also one of three people who can convince Tony Stark to go to sleep. Born in New York. Only child. Probably needs a second pair of glasses, considering how often she loses hers."
"Oh, whatever," she huffed.
"How did I do?" he asked.
"Terrible," Darcy replied, "but that's okay. I was born in West Virginia, actually. I didn't move to New York until Jane got hired by SHIELD."
"West Virginia. Really?"
She snorted. "Yeah. I was the only Jewish kid in my high school."
"I didn't know you were Jewish."
"I'm full of surprises, Captain. I'm also not technically an only child—I've got a younger half brother on my dad's side."
"Are your parents divorced?"
"My mom died, actually. When I was eight."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I don't remember that much about her, but she wrote me letters for all of my birthdays when she found out she was sick, so I get a card from her every year. My dad got remarried when I was thirteen to Joanna, my stepmom. My half-brother is ten now."
"Are they still in West Virginia?"
"Yep. My dad's too stubborn to move."
"Why did you move to New York with Jane? Why not go back to them?"
"I wanted to pursue my Broadway dreams."
"Seriously?"
"No. I just didn't want to leave her. She's my best friend. And who knows what kind of trouble she would get into if I wasn't around to keep her from microwaving her forks?"
"My best friend was kind of like that."
"Barnes?"
"Yeah. How did you know?"
"Oh, uh, I took a class on you when I was in college. To fulfill my 20th century history requirement."
"Is that why you're so good at guessing?"
"It definitely helps."
"Alright."
"Tell me about Barnes."
"He went by Bucky. His mom named him after James Buchanan, the president, but she didn't really think about it. He got James Buchanan, and his kid sister was just Rebecca. We called her Becca. Anyway, he got used to looking out for us since I was always starting fights and Becca was always running off to cause trouble."
Darcy snorted. "Extraordinarily in-character of you. Didn't realize you had an accomplice, though."
"Becca was less of my accomplice and more of a fellow…" He drifted off, trying to figure out how best to describe the two of them.
"Agent of chaos?" Darcy suggested.
"Well." He paused, considering how extreme that sounded, before realizing that she wasn't really wrong. "Yeah, actually. Becca's trouble involved more shoplifting and flirting with guys to get them to treat her. She was real popular with guys."
"Treat?"
"It's like, uh, dating. But before dating was something. The guys from nice families, you know-the guys with money-they'd take girls out in exchange for-" Steve stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat and hoped Darcy would know what he meant without making him say it.
She looked rather amused at his uncomfortable expression. "Sexual favors?"
"Uh, yes."
"Nice."
"She was a very good thief. She'd sometimes try to teach me to shoplift but uh...I always got caught. And I was never very good at getting out of it, unfortunately."
"Wait. Did Bucky have to literally bail you out at some point?"
"No! No. He managed to sweet-talk the officer, though."
"What'd you steal?"
Steve sat back in the booth, pursing his lips. "An apple."
"An apple? One apple? And they called the cops?"
"Well, a poor kid from Brooklyn stealing an apple and then attempting to throw it at the store owner once being caught doesn't bode very well with law enforcement."
"You threw it at the store owner?"
"Well, I missed."
Darcy burst out laughing. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Cap?" At his shrug, she took a sip of her coffee. "I'm gonna discover them all."
"Oh, is that right?" he asked, impressed and intrigued by her confidence.
"That's right," she promised. "Pinky swear."
September 5, 2012 - Paris, France
Audrey tossed a file down onto Delphine's desk at the DGSE compound. The other agent jumped slightly at the motion.
"Sorry," Audrey said. "That was so sudden. Um, we found some information on DIVUS but it's all in Russian, and Natasha's running surveillance with Clint right now, and I figured you would know of a translator around here? My Russian is limited to listening and speaking."
"No worries," Delphine responded, smiling nervously. The two hadn't spoken much since the night before, other than exchanging brief information about the case at the meeting earlier in the morning before Delphine had another briefing with Jaspar. "I know enough Russian to get by, I think. Let's see."
She flipped the file open and rummaged through her desk drawer for a highlighter and a pencil. Audrey stood awkwardly, wringing her wrists as she watched Delphine bite her lip and jot down notes in the margins of the pages. The brunette looked up at her after a moment.
"Pull up a chair," she invited, waving her hand over at the empty desk of another agent. Audrey followed her directions, dragging the swivel chair over awkwardly and settling it beside Delphine's desk. "So what I've gotten so far is that this definitely isn't a scholarship fund."
"Even if I know that means it's something nefarious I have to say I'm glad we're onto something. What's up?"
"These business licenses indicate that they hold a lot of assets that don't line up with an arts scholarship - or any scholarship, at all. Such as...a warehouse just outside of Moscow. Two underground bunkers in rural Russia. I've had tech analysts looking at their website, because they have one, but they've traced the applications going in and haven't found that they go anywhere. It's unclear if they've ever sent out an acceptance letter for anything. And get this." Delphine hit the space bar for her computer and unlocked it, revealing the DIVUS website. "They're only supposed to service kids in West Virginia."
Audrey narrowed her eyes, reading through the requirements listed on the website. Residency in West Virginia was number one. "That math definitely doesn't add up."
"Exactly." Delphine turned back to the files. "So even if these records aren't indicating anything new, it's reinforcing what we suspected and it's gonna give us a lead on how we can trace Bardot's supplier. Warehouse would be a good lead."
"Good point," Audrey said, nodding. There was a pregnant pause as she considered who, exactly, to report this to. Natasha and Clint were still in a van somewhere with Kate, and Audrey hadn't been given a timeframe for when they'd be back. She pulled out her phone and sent Clint a quick text to let him know that they had found a lead. The grey bubble appeared for a minute, seeming to indicate that he would reply, but then it disappeared without a message to take its place. "So, um, I let Clint know. I'm just not sure….when...he'll be back."
"Alright," Delphine said, nodding. "Well, I mean, we could certainly look into the address. I can communicate with some contacts in the area, but besides that…" she trailed off, looking down at her lap. Audrey noticed a ring on her middle finger, one that she fiddled with. In place of a stone, there was a piece of glass shaped like an eye.
"Right," Audrey said. She felt like the conversation had concluded, but she wasn't sure whether or not she was supposed to leave. "So…"
"I'll reach out to my contacts if you don't mind looking into the warehouse."
"No, not at all, that sounds great. Um, so...yeah. Okay." She stood up.
"Where are you going?" Delphine asked.
"I was gonna go find a desk to work at."
"You can stay here," Delphine offered.
"Okay," Audrey said, sitting back down. "Yeah, sure."
Almost an hour passed without the two speaking much. Delphine spoke in low Russian on the phone and Audrey pieced together bits and pieces of what she was saying. "DIVUS isn't a scholarship fund...SHIELD...yes, the one with the Avengers." She cast a shy look over at Audrey, and the blonde smiled. How strange, to have known each other so closely, and to still be almost strangers.
"'The one with the Avengers'?" Audrey asked, once she'd hung up.
"She asked!" Delphine insisted.
"Right, okay."
"You're kind of a big deal. Earth's Mightiest Heroes."
"Oh, we're a big deal? I hadn't noticed."
"Is it true that Captain America is your dad?"
Audrey tilted her head back and forth, considering how high-level that classification was, and then considering how that might translate over to DGSE levels, and then throwing caution out the window for the briefest moment and nodding. "He is, yes."
"It's so strange. We all thought he died."
"Me too. Until, um, this year."
"Who's your mother?"
"That's classified."
"Then let me ask you as a friend, and not a spy."
Audrey smiled. "Peggy Carter."
"Peggy Carter? SHIELD's founder?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Just turned sixty-six."
Delphine whistled, moderately impressed. "I'm twenty-six. Does this make you a...uh...what's it called? Panther?"
Audrey laughed. "Cougar, you mean?"
"Yes, Cougar."
"My age is something I have a complex relationship with."
"You're the hottest senior citizen I've ever met," Delphine said, then added quickly, "for what it's worth."
"I'm on my way to geriatric."
"You don't look a day past middle aged."
"Thank you. I appreciated that. If I'm the cougar, though, what does that make you?"
"Oh, that's easy," Delphine said with a wink. "Arm candy."
September 5, 2012 - New York, NY
"Art has changed a lot over the last 70 years."
"I know, right?" Darcy said, beaming as she turned away from one of the Jackson Pollock pieces that made up the MoMA's permanent collection. "But I like it a lot better. It's brighter and less of it is paintings of European aristocrats. Especially when you look at stuff in like, the sixties and the eighties. The art that was made for social movements is always a lot more interesting."
Steve pulled his notebook out of his pocket and jotted down on his list, art from 1960s and 1980s. "It's a lot more colorful. A lot more cheery. All the art I remember from the 40s was dull and sad and gray or propaganda." He considered. "And expensive. Too expensive for me to afford."
"Oh, I don't know if that's changed. In a place like this, at least. There are a lot of independent artists that you can support if you want, though. Much more affordable. Everything here is out of basically everyone's price range." She pursed her lips. "Well, maybe not Tony. He could probably get you one of these for your birthday, if you asked."
Steve laughed. "I can think of better things to ask for from a billionaire."
"Like what?"
"Like...stuff for other people. I'm pretty set."
"When's your birthday, anyway?"
Steve hesitated. "You'll laugh. I'm not telling you."
Darcy shrugged and pulled out her phone. "Fine. I'll just google it."
Damn it. "Wait," Steve said, thinking about all the other embarrassing information discoverable by searching for him on the internet. "July 4."
Darcy's thumbs stopped. She looked up at him. "The fucking fourth of July?"
Steve nodded. "Yes."
"Oh my god."
"I know."
"Just...it just happened like that?"
"Yes."
"Did you plan it like that?"
"Did I...plan my birth?"
"Well, more like, did you feel more patriotic because of your birthday?"
"I mean, it's not like I felt especially connected to George Washington."
"The Founding Fathers kind of sucked."
"Yeah, that's true."
"So no, then?"
"No what?"
"No, you didn't feel more patriotic because of your birthday?"
"Correct. And it's not like I was particularly resentful of the British, especially as we were fighting side by side."
"You make good points, Captain."
"Steve," he corrected.
"Steve," she said. The sound of his name in her mouth surprised him, soft and light. It had been a while since he'd heard it - everyone else insisted on calling him Cap or Captain or Rogers. Or dad, in Audrey's case. Steve felt different.
"Darcy," he replied.
"There you go," she said, smiling. "You're getting the hang of it."
September 5, 2012 - Paris, France
"What've you got for us?" Natasha asked, tossing her duffle bag to the side of the compound's conference room, pulling off a jet-black wig as she went and throwing it atop the bag.
"What's up, ladies?" Kate followed, the heavy steps of her chunky boots resounding through the room.
"Oh, what, so you can say 'what's up, ladies' but when I do it, it's uncool?" Clint called after.
"Everything you do is uncool."
"Not true. I'm very cool." Clint pointed at Kate. "Tasha, tell Kate I'm cool."
"Haven't we done enough lying for one day?" she retorted. Clint stopped, his jaw dropping and his face wrinkling up.
"Ooh, sick burn," Kate laughed.
"Okay, I'm tired of being ganged up on. What do you have for us?"
"Several things," said Delphine. "First of all, not a scholarship fund."
"Oh, yay. Our hunch was right," Kate replied.
"Your hunch was right. DIVUS is definitely not a scholarship fund. They have a pretty heavy presence in Moscow, website says they service kids from West Virginia. So, yeah, not a scholarship fund," Delphine agreed.
Natasha's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, presence in Moscow?"
Audrey blew out a breath. "Well, according to their asset records, a number of properties in Moscow are leased in their name, including a sizable warehouse just outside city proper. I managed to get ahold of the blueprints through a contact in Moscow that reveals, a) it's located pretty close to a former nuclear site, and b), it's got at least seven basement sublevels."
"Is that up to code?" asked Clint.
"It is definitely not," answered Delphine.
"Great," said Kate.
Natasha flipped through the file in front of her. "What are we thinking? Warehouse is where he stores the weapons?"
Delphine nodded. "It's definitely most likely. Sublevels make it more interesting. The warehouse is large enough on its own-we don't know what he could be storing beneath."
"I have contacts I can reach out to," Natasha asked.
Audrey wrinkled her forehead and looked over at Clint, who seemed equally confused. "You do?" she asked. Natasha was Russian, sure-but as a traitor to the state, it seemed unlikely that many ties would have been maintained.
"One, to be specific," Natasha said. "I'll reach out."
"Who is it?" Clint asked.
"You wouldn't know him," Natasha replied coolly. "I'll let you all know."
"Okay, well, we've got that as a potential lead," Delphine said.
"Where do we go from here?" Kate asked.
"Moscow in the morning," Audrey said. "It's worth looking into."
Clint nodded. "Roger that."
September 5, 2012 - New York, NY
"Another round?"
Darcy and Steve were perched across barstools at the Rascal, a dive bar in Brooklyn that had accidentally become hipster-famous thanks to some bloggers a few months before. Surrounded by empty shot glasses, Darcy blinked slowly up at Steve and rested her hand against her cheek.
"I think we're good for now," Steve told the bartender, pulling his eyes from Darcy for a minute, only to return them back to her gaze. "Thank you."
"We need some of the stuff Thor brings for you," Darcy said. "See if I can get you to spill your secrets under the influence."
"You could just try asking," he said.
"I don't have clearance," she reminded him.
"Well, we're friends, aren't we?"
Darcy lifted an eyebrow, pushing away from the bar and sitting up straight on the barstool. "How much of a lightweight did you used to be?"
Steve laughed. "I was tipsy after a shot. I was so skinny. I know there are photographs of it, but-still. I don't think it quite illustrates how small I was."
"Phenomenal. Now it's your turn to ask a question."
"I'd hate to take advantage of your state," Steve admitted, cautious.
"Just ask something I'd answer anyway."
"Okay. Um. Favorite film?"
"Ohhh...that's hard." She narrowed her eyes and her gaze drifted up, as if she was trying to actually pull the title from her mind. "Atonement?"
"Atonement?"
"That's so sad. I don't know why I picked that. I watched it with Jane recently and it was so good. It's set - uh - it's set during World War II. It's about things that went unsaid."
"Oh," Steve said. "Interesting."
"Keira Knightley's in it. Total babe. She kind of looks like Jane, in my opinion."
"High compliment."
"The highest."
"Is it your turn then?"
"Maybe." Beat. "Have you ever been in love?"
Steve thought about his life before the ice. Of course, there was Peggy. Bold and brilliant. Peggy had seen something in him that he hadn't ever thought of for himself: she'd seen potential. He'd been amazed by her even before he'd fallen. He'd loved her then, and he still loved her a hell of a lot now.
Before Peggy, though, Steve had Bucky. Bucky had taken care of him. Bucky had taught him about love and life and Bucky had kept him from getting himself killed in fights Steve insisted on getting himself into. Peggy had loved Steve, he knew that, but nobody had cared for him the way Bucky did.
The word hovered on his tongue - twice - and he almost spoke it aloud until Darcy's eyes went wide and she cursed.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"We have to go."
That sounded like danger. As if something had flipped in him, he began scanning the room for firearms, hopped off the stool, and put his arm around Darcy to guide her toward the exit.
"What's the threat?"
"Oh!" Darcy exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I was stupid, I should've been more considerate of how it sounded. We are not in physical danger, but, um - that's TMZ." She gestured vaguely over her shoulder to a man in a beret with a large, complicated-looking camera. When Steve made eye contact with him, the man looked away quickly, pretending not to notice him.
"TMZ?"
"They're, like...they're just a shitty tabloid, but they can be really aggressive with trying to get stories. They used to try to follow Jane and I home. It was part of why Jane moved into the Tower."
"What about you?"
"I just moved to a shitty apartment in a different part of town. We can talk about it all later, but we should probably get out of here before we become tomorrow's front-page story."
Steve nodded, putting an arm around Darcy and guiding her to the staircase they took on the way in. When they reached the street level above, Darcy raised her hand into the cool breeze and hailed a cab.
"Where are we going?" Steve asked.
"My place?" Darcy said.
"Okay."
When they'd settled in the backseat, Steve blew out a breath and cast a second glance over his shoulder. "You'd think they'd have better news for the front page."
Darcy scoffed dramatically. "What could possibly be better than Captain America at a dive bar?"
"Isn't Obama up for reelection in two months?"
"Politics, shmolitics."
"Weren't you a political science major?"
Darcy pursed her lips into a line. "You've got me there. I am very invested in the election news. But TMZ doesn't cover that kind of thing. They're more about-like, have Brangelina broken up? Was Taylor Swift seen with Harry Styles over the weekend?"
"Am I supposed to know what those names are?"
"Well, Brangelina at least."
"Brange—what?"
"Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie."
Steve looked at her, still not understanding what she was saying.
"Okay, you're gonna come over and we're gonna watch Mr. and Mrs. Smith and I'm going to ensure you come out of it culturally literate."
"I...okay."
"No way around it." They pulled up outside a rickety looking gray building and Darcy dug through her wallet for the fare. "Thank you!" she called to the cab driver, before opening the door and stepping out. She held out her hand to Steve, as if helping him out of a carriage. "Come on, Captain," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "The future awaits."
September 6, 2012 - Somewhere Over Europe
"So how close are you to the other Avengers?" Delphine asked Audrey
The two were strapped into seats on the back of a quinjet, dressed in tac gear. Audrey clutched a half-empty five hour energy in one hand and her cell phone in the other, just in case her dad needed to reach her for anything.
"Obviously, Captain America is your father," Delphine continued. "But what about...what about them?" She pointed to Clint and Natasha.
"They're a lot less scary when you live with them. Elite assassins, still, but Barton's always fussing around with the vents and Natasha spends most of her time training or reading. They both helped train me. Natasha with combat, Clint with weapons." Delphine nodded. Audrey shrugged. "We're...friends," she said, much more confidently than she probably should have. Were they friends? Were they coworkers? Were they just roommates?
Well, it was probably fine. Delphine wasn't going to fact-check her on this. Probably.
"What about the green one? The Hulk?"
"Oh, he's not usually like that."
"He's Doctor Bruce Banner, yeah?"
"Yes. Yeah. He's nice. Quiet. I don't know him that well, but he's usually working. He likes tea. Generally a shy guy."
"Does he transform often?"
"Not really. New York was the most recent instance. He's not partial to coming out much besides that."
"And...Mr. Stark?"
Audrey rolled her eyes. "He's an idiot. He's like my brother. We grew up together."
The brunette bit her lip, flinching before asking her next question. "Do you ever feel...more than human?" Delphine asked. She sounded like she was asking out of more than curiosity.
The question caught Audrey off guard. "Um," she said. "I, well, I didn't used to. I felt older and younger than I should feel. I never act the right age." She took a deep breath. "After New York, though...I'm not so sure if anything's right. It's like I'm...I'm stronger than any civilian, right? But I'm-I mean, I've got nothing to bring to the team that I didn't inherit from my parents. I'm stronger and I'm involved with S.H.I.E.L.D., but that's not from anything I did. I didn't earn my spot. I feel more than normal. But I don't feel special, either."
Delphine nodded slowly. "I wouldn't be so sure."
Audrey looked up at her. "Sure about what?"
"Sure that there's nothing special about you."
"Suit up in tactical gear," Natasha interrupted, stepping into the main cabin of the jet. "Just talked to my contact, she says Bardot may own the warehouse, but it's operated by something else entirely."
"Something else?" said Audrey.
"Who?" asked Delphine.
Natasha shut her eyes and leaned back against the doorframe. Audrey wasn't exactly sure, but she looked to Clint for guidance on what to do.
"Tasha?" he asked gently, standing from his spot near the bin of tac-gear. He reached for her hand and pulled her into his chest. Audrey averted her eyes. She had never seen Natasha this rattled before. They were friends-ish-now. Or on good terms, at least. But that didn't mean Audrey had ever seen her this freaked out. "Who operates the warehouse, Tasha?" Clint asked again.
Quiet, but steady, Natasha's voice came from the doorway. "The Red Room."
September 6, 2012 - New York, NY
With a bottle of wine in hand, Darcy settled down next to Steve on her loveseat and handed him a bowl of popcorn.
"Rose?" he asked, reading the label on her wine bottle.
"It's pronounced roh-say, baby. Seven dollar wine."
"I see."
"Expensive things are almost never better," Darcy divulged. "It's just capitalism."
He laughed at that. "So what's the movie we're watching?"
"Okay, I originally suggested Mr. and Mrs. Smith, you know, to inform you on what Brangelina is. But I'm not super invested in them as a celebrity couple, even though Angelina Jolie rocks, so instead, I've decided to show you a much more important film to the American canon."
"And what's that?"
"Ghostbusters."
Darcy's apartment was small, and not at all what Steve had expected. There were no photos or art or posters. The bare walls complemented the furniture - a gray sofa, a queen sized bed shoved into the corner, a kitchen that showed no signs of recent use.
"I'm not minimalist by choice," Darcy said. Steve dragged his eyes from her kitchen to her. "I'm never even here. I spend half my nights in the lab. I sleep here like three nights a week."
"It's a long way from the Tower. Is there anything closer?"
Darcy laughed. "I couldn't afford an apartment in Manhattan. Not on my salary. I'm paid by Jane, and she doesn't get much outside of grants and those are usually only allocated to lab equipment. She just has her living expenses taken care of by Tony."
"Well you're responsible for so much of the work she does. So much of the work they all do," Steve said. "If it weren't for you, Doctor Foster wouldn't be half as productive as she is."
Darcy shrugged. "I'm bad at asking for things. And anyway - she's my friend. I'm not going to ask for a raise from her."
Steve shook his head. "You should be put on Stark payroll. You take care of more than just her." She tilted her head back and forth, as if pretending to consider. "Oh, come on, Darcy," Steve said. His confidence surprised even him. "You take care of all of us. Let us take care of you."
She slumped back on the couch. "Fine. But I'll ask. I can't have a man negotiating my salary for me."
"Fair enough," Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I won't argue with that."
They settled in to watch the movie, and as the scenes played out before him, Steve had to admit that he didn't entirely understand what was going on. Ghosts? Gadgets? He figured that ghosts were still not real, but a small part of him wondered if this was yet another thing he'd missed out on.
"You never answered my question from earlier," Darcy said. She stared up at him from behind her glasses. "I didn't forget."
"What was your question again?"
"Whether or not you've ever been in love."
"Oh. Yes. Twice."
"Twice?"
"Well, there was Peggy. Audrey's mother," Steve began. Darcy rested her head on her hand and nodded. "Peggy and I met during the trials for the serum. She was the S.S.R.'s representative for the project. She valued me before I was all this. Back when I-when I was just Steve. And not Captain America."
"Well, it's more than just being shredded that makes a hero," Darcy agreed.
"I-" That was one way to put it. "Well, yeah."
"Sorry. Go on."
"No, no. Don't be sorry. Well, Peggy was the one who told me I was made for more than walking propaganda. If I'd had more time, I mean...I would've married her. I used to dream about us settling down after the war. She wouldn't stop fighting, I know, but maybe we could've had somewhere to go home to." He inhaled sharply. That had been the dream. A house to settle in. A dining room table for their family. A wedding, in a church, with a ring. All of these things had occurred to him as he put the plane in the water. Deciding on the crash had been a fast decision - the lives of millions of people were at stake. He hadn't ever shared the fact with anyone, but the descent had taken a lot longer than he had anticipated. Days seemed to pass with nothing but time to think about all he was giving up.
"Who else?" Darcy asked, her voice quiet against the sound of the movie in the background.
Steve's jaw fell slack as he tried to muster up the strength to say it. As he tried to wrap his mouth around the name. "Bucky," he finally admitted, the word seeming to slip out faster than he had meant it to.
"Barnes?" Darcy asked. Her voice was steady. Curious, but not judgmental. Steve nodded.
"Bucky has been with me through everything. When my mom died, he let me sleep over for a week just to make sure I was okay. Buck - I mean, there's nobody like him. He was the first person who ever chose me. He chose to be my friend. He chose to love me." Steve thought about the one kiss they had shared, how it had prompted questions that he never got answers to.
"He was your best friend."
"Yeah," Steve agreed. "He was more than that, too. I loved him. I didn't always love him in a way I understood."
"Yeah," Darcy said, nodding. "I understand. I think there's a lot of pressure to draw that line, but there shouldn't need to be."
Steve nodded, relieved. He knew it wasn't a big deal now, not how it was before. But Darcy was the first person he'd ever spoken about it with honestly, and nothing about Bucky or Peggy had ever come lightly to him.
"What about you?" Steve asked. "You ever been in love?"
"Ehhh," she drawled. "I'd hardly call it love. I've been in a lot of relationships. None of them have really made me feel like I was home. I consider it one of my bigger character flaws."
"What do you mean?"
"I end up in a lot of empty relationships. And I stay in them for a long time."
"Like...how long?"
"Uhh...my current record is five years. Ryan, in college. He was a rhetoric major. Super unenthusiastic about anything. He really enjoyed being aware of politics but really hated getting involved in them and looked down on anyone that didn't balance on the exact fucking edge of his political razor."
"I think I know the type," Steve said, recalling the guys who were quick to have an opinion on the importance of fighting the war but also scrambled to get out of the draft at the first opportunity.
"Well, anyway, he went to Culver Law straight out of undergrad and then left me when he decided he needed to find someone who could match him in intellectual rigor."
Steve's expression soured. "What does that mean?"
"Still trying to figure that one out. Wait! You have to watch this part. It's Zuul."
Steve had no idea what that meant, either, but he followed Darcy's order and refocused on the TV. His mind was anywhere but the movie, though - mostly, he thought about Peggy and Bucky, but then also about Darcy. Darcy, who had spent all day dragging him around New York for fun. Darcy, who was patient and kind and made him feel heard. Steve was so lost in his thoughts about Darcy that he barely noticed she had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
The movie had ended. Music played with the menu sequence and, doing his best not to disturb the woman at his side, Steve reached for the remote and switched the TV off.
He debated moving, but he didn't want to risk waking Darcy up-not after the long day they'd had and the lack of sleep she'd gotten the night before. And her couch was comfortable enough, so Steve settled into the cushions, shut his eyes, and let himself drift off.
A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe (and indoors!) with everything going on in the world right now. My semester got canceled so I'm gonna be home and hopefully writing more and more regularly for you guys. Thank you to pixie (comealongpixie) for beta-ing this chapter for me, and thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter.
Please leave a review on the way out letting me know what you think!
Chapter 6: To The Bone
"Natasha?" Audrey asked. The assassin was frozen in place as she approached her. "What did you find?"