A slight widening of Steve's eyes was the only evidence that he noticed the implement of destruction speeding toward them as he looked in the rearview mirror.
"Hang on," he intoned grimly as he depressed a button on the console.
The sedan shook slightly as two decoys fired from the rear of the vehicle. Steve swerved sharply to the left in the same moment and Darcy was thrown against the passenger side door. Despite her buckle, she hit her head on the frame. She heard the explosion behind the vehicle through a haze of pain.
"Sorry, Tony," Steven muttered.
They accelerated down a long drive, away from the New Avengers Facility. Steve didn't stop at the exit gate; just blew on through it, wrecking the metal arm that blocked their egress. The sedan spilled onto a public road, tires squealing. The facility behind them disappeared in mere moments.
Darcy sighed and rubbed her head. The spot felt tender under her hair. She'd probably have a bump, but it could have been worse. The greenery of New York's countryside whipped past as Steve took them down back roads she hadn't known about. She had a vague sense that they were heading north. Steve fiddled with more buttons as he drove. Somehow Darcy didn't doubt he could split his attention between the road and the car's interior with ease. The silence in the car stretched out as minutes and miles passed.
"So where are we headed?" Darcy asked once she felt all chance of danger had disappeared.
"Mmm, not sure," Steve mused.
He glanced at her briefly. "Sorry about your head."
"S'okay. I don't use it much anyway."
The edges of Steve's mouth quirked at this, but he kept his eyes on the road. A crackle in the speakers interrupted them.
"Steve? Captain Rogers? Come in, please."
"I'm here, Nat. You guys okay?"
Steve slowed at an intersection, but didn't fully stop. He turned right, seemingly on impulse.
"Everyone's fine. Are you? And how about Darcy?"
"Minor bruises. Nothing to worry about," Steve replied. "So what's the story?"
"We don't know. This group managed to get in and get out with all personnel. We haven't noticed a single thing missing, so it probably wasn't theft. There's a few things on fire…"
"Yeah, can you apologize to Tony for me?"
"He sets a fire in his lab every other week. This is just karma," Darcy muttered.
"Check the ground level parking lot. Is there still a black surveillance van out there?" Steve continued.
"Mmmmm...yep. Security has it surrounded."
"Tell them to proceed with caution. Hopefully the driver's still inside. And the LMD."
"There's a Life Model Decoy? That's way more sophisticated than anything else these guys brought with them."
"I agree."
Steve paused, his gaze sliding to Darcy for a split second, then back to the road.
"It's outfitted to look like Darcy, down to the clothes she's currently wearing. I want to know where they got that intel and what they planned to do with both the LMD and the real Darcy. Clearly this was a kidnapping attempt - flashy toys notwithstanding. I want to know why."
Darcy's stomach clenched as she processed this information. She felt nauseous. The whole time Steve had been shuttling her out of harm's way, she'd been sure it was a mix up. His report of an LMD with her face on it was disturbing. From what she understood, LMDs could replace a person for months if accurately programmed. She could have been kidnapped, maybe murdered, with no one the wiser - if not for Steve.
Darcy took a couple of breaths to calm her racing heart. The events of the last hour were catching up with her. She could feel it as the blood drained from her face and the skin of her forehead and palms grew clammy. She focused on not throwing up or passing out.
"Hmmm."
Natasha's tone was contemplative, calm. Darcy envied her poise.
"I'll leave you to your deductions, Nat. I'm sure you'll figure it out. I'll run protection detail for Darcy in the meantime. Let me know when we've got the all-clear to come back." Steve's voice had gone carefully neutral, and Darcy wondered what he purposely wasn't saying in front of her.
"Alright, Steve. Oh, Tony sends a reminder not to trash the car. Nevermind that it's bulletproof, crash proof, untraceable, communication-secured, and the tires can't go flat. He says it's his baby. Black Widow out."
Steve cut the communication and looked at Darcy. She knew she was pathetically pale, totally wimping out, even as their safety grew with each mile. He reached out with one hand and touched her shoulder.
"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, fingers touching the hem of her t-shirt gently.
Darcy took a couple of breaths through her nose and pushed them out of her mouth. "Yeah, fine. Just...a little carsick."
"You want me to pull over? No one's following us, Darcy. I made sure." Steve took his foot off the gas and the car slowed.
"No! No, that's fine. I think...maybe just sitting with my eyes closed? I'll feel better in a bit."
His eyes searched hers for a bare moment before returning to the road. "Sure. I'll let you know when we get where we're going."
They passed a few hours in silence, Darcy falling in and out of a doze. It felt weird to drop her trademark sassy bravado in front of possibly the bravest man in the country, but if he asked, she'd say all the stairs combined with the bump on her head had tuckered her out. They drove primarily north. Steve avoided major highways and finally turned down a quiet route as the sun set. Darcy woke up when he put the car in park and killed the engine.
"Where are we?" she yawned, drawing the back of her hand to her mouth.
"Out of the way motel. This should be as good a place as any to keep a low profile."
Steve opened his door and she did the same. He turned toward the motel office, but Darcy stopped him.
"Uh, Steve? Your shirt?"
He looked down and realized he was still wearing his ripped shirt from earlier. He sighed and walked around to the trunk. He pulled a hoodie from the go bag and zipped it up the front.
"Better?" he asked Darcy.
She eyed him speculatively. "Are you asking me as a woman, or…"
Steve rolled his eyes, but she thought she caught the hint of a smirk as they walked in. A bored desk clerk greeted them in monotones. There was exactly one room left - with a single queen sized bed.
"Uhm, we'd really prefer a double if you can," Darcy wheedled, but the man just shrugged.
"It's literally the only room I've got," he insisted.
"Don't worry about it, Darcy. I'll sleep on the floor," Steve murmured.
He pulled several bills from his wallet and slid them across the desk. They retrieved his duffel from the trunk and settled into the motel room. The space was small, dour and spartan: a window next to the door, the promised queen bed next to the window, a dresser with an older television set on top, and a tiny desk and chair.
Darcy sighed as she laid down on the lumpy mattress and found a remote control under her elbow. She was too tired to even pull off her boots. She crossed her ankles, lifted the clicker, and turned on the TV. Steve disappeared into the bathroom. She could hear the shower running as she flicked through cable channels.
Don't even think about him, Darcy, she warned herself as an image of Steve's pecs through the shirt came to her mind. Her restraint was pointless, however. The bathroom door banged open and Steve exited in a white motel towel, leaving little to the imagination.
"Good god, you're a tortilla chip," Darcy blurted.
She didn't bother trying to avert her gaze as Steve glanced up from rummaging for a fresh shirt. His short hair was wet and spiky, a droplet or two falling on the coverlet of the motel bed.
"What?"
"Triangle. Shoulder to waist ratio. You're like, equilateral. Surely you've heard this before." Darcy realized she was babbling a bit, but Steve's good humored smile was worth it.
"You...really have a way with words, Darcy."
"I do, don't I?" she mused.
Steve retrieved a gray t-shirt, a pair of boxer briefs (don't think about the briefs, Darcy), and sweat pants from the bag. It seemed like less of a 'go' bag and more of a sleepover bag, she thought. If only it had a comfy tank top and some pajama pants in her size, she'd be good to go.
Steve returned to the bathroom and she looked at the television, trying very hard to focus on Richard Gere as he stridently defended a hapless Edward Norton. Steve reemerged and settled into the institutional-type cushioned chair provided by the motel. It looked highly uncomfortable. He shifted around a few times, but couldn't seem to get settled.
"Steve." Darcy patted the bed next to her. "C'mere. Watch the TV."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, of course. I mean, you did save my life like what? Three or four times today? Pretty sure I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Do you want to pick a movie?"
"Nah," Steve replied as he shifted over to the free half of the queen size bed.
He placed his hands behind his head and relaxed against a pillow.
"This is good."
Darcy relaxed too, releasing muscles she hadn't realized were tense. Her head fell further back into the pillow as a commercial break interrupted the movie.
"At the risk of sounding nerdily seductive, are you sure you're okay with the floor? This bed is bigger than I thought it would be." Darcy turned her head and took in Steve's profile, illuminated by the flickering light from the TV.
"Honestly, I prefer it. I know I should be used to normal beds again, but World War II doesn't feel all that far back in my memory and that was all bedrolls - or cots, at the best."
"Ah. Got it."
Darcy didn't quite know what to say in reply to the admission. It was probably the most personal thing she'd ever heard him say.
"So...what was it like when you woke up?"
Steve was silent for a long time, and for a moment, Darcy thought she'd crossed a line.
"It was… well, it was exactly like what waking up in the future should be, I guess. Lots of light, lots of sound. Places that seem vaguely familiar but don't resemble anything you've ever known. Cars are different, clothes are different, people talk different. The stuff you thought was important last week is just a footnote in a history textbook sixty years later."
He sounded unusually serene. Darcy's heart twinged for him anyway.
"That sounds awful," she murmured.
"Takes some getting used to, I'll admit. But you know, I've got good work, good friends, and… it is what it is." Steve shrugged, then readjusted his pillow.
They lay in silence for a while, Darcy's mind barely tracking the movie in her exhaustion. Then, feeling remarkably secure in a rundown motel with the champion of America stretched out beside her, Darcy drifted off to sleep.
Steve glanced over at the young woman beside him, only to find her eyes closed and lips parted. Her breathing was deep and even, the long waves of her hair spilling down over her shoulders. He took the remote control that had half-fallen from her hand and turned off the TV. Rolling to a seated position, he took the pillow he'd claimed with him and padded silently around the foot of the bed. Steve flicked off the bedside lamp and peered through the blinds into the quiet parking lot outside. Nothing moved other than the odd cricket flying up to challenge a dim street lamp at the edge of the pavement.
He settled himself on the floor across the width of the motel door. If Darcy got up in the night she'd probably step on him, but he'd have to risk it. He wiggled his shoulders into a good spot against the thin carpet and laced his hands over his abdomen, then resolutely closed his eyes.
It felt like mere moments had passed when Steve's eyes flew open in response to...something. Or nothing. He didn't hear a sound. Nonetheless, his instincts had him on his feet before he could blink. He looked toward a digital alarm clock on the nightstand table, but no red numbers cut the darkness. The power was out. He crouched and came to the side of the queen bed.
"Darcy," he hissed, one hand on her forearm.
She woke instantly with a gasp. Steve put himself in her line of sight and pressed a finger to his lips. She began to rise, but he shook his head. Internally apologizing, he grabbed her around the shoulders and tugged her down. Darcy slithered off the bed into the space under the window, her expressive eyes staring daggers at him. Well, he had promised to warn her. Motioning for her to keep under the window line, Steve pressed himself next to the door and waited. The step of a single boot sole on concrete was their only warning before the door burst in.