Strapped in and supplied with an extra headset, Darcy glanced back and forth at Steve and the Black Widow. She was his friend, right? But not a word about his obvious injuries - the bloody cut over one brow that was just starting to congeal, the two black eyes, the swollen lip. Darcy looked down, embarrassed. Maybe it only bothered her because she'd gotten him into the situation. At least the rain had washed the blood off.
She clasped the hand that Steve had held, thinking. He was kinder than she'd thought possible, reassuring her as they waited for the helicopter to descend. Kind, even though he didn't owe her a thing. All she'd done was bring him trouble since this whole mess started. Darcy tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear that Smug had escaped. She gasped.
"He got away? What about Brendan?"
"Who's Brendan?" Black Widow asked, her penetrating gaze leaving Darcy unsettled.
"He's at the center of Plan B," Steve explained. "Darcy was insurance, in case Dr. Brendan Mallory refused to cooperate in the other scheme they're running. We need to get a team to Culver University immediately - he's the key to a larger plot against attendees at an international conference they're hosting."
"Wait…" Darcy counted back on her fingers. "What day is it now? The conference starts soon - that's why they were so desperate to use Brendan for access. He's head of the department, so he approves final logistics and schedules for the presenters."
"It's Monday," Black Widow said.
Darcy scrubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Crap. The conference starts Tuesday morning at nine a.m. sharp. The keynote speaker is the most prestigious guest - a Nobel Peace Prize recipient. Steve…"
Steve's beat up face made his expression look hard, but his voice was level. "We don't have time to set up a team. We need to get there asap. Natasha, contact what Avengers you can and set up a rendezvous. Darcy, there isn't time to get you all the way back to the Facility, but there's a safe house and we can drop you -"
"Hell, no."
"Darcy, this isn't up for debate," Steve warned.
"The hell it isn't," Darcy snapped. "You need me, Steve. You have no time to set up a...a raid or whatever you call it. I know Culver like the back of my hand. Especially the Poli-Sci department. I also know where Brendan lives - at this time of night, do you really think they're stashing him somewhere on campus? Their whole crappy-ass plan depends on Brendan acting normal. He'd be home, either typing away on a book or sleeping. He's like clockwork."
Darcy crossed her arms under her breasts and raised both eyebrows, giving the two Avengers in front of her time to consider.
"I can get blueprints…" Black Widow muttered.
"How long is that going to take?" Darcy shot back.
Steve gave a deep sigh. It made Darcy feel like a millstone, that sigh, but she didn't back down.
"Okay, Darcy, but you are out away from the campus. You are on a headset, and you are giving us intel, and that's it."
"Fine," she agreed.
Black Widow muttered some more, but she pressed a button on her headset and spoke into the mouthpiece. The helicopter banked left.
"We're making a short stop at the safe house; we have a stash of gear for you and a change of clothes for her." Black Widow held up a hand to cut off Darcy's protests. "It's on our way anyway and it'll only take a few minutes."
Darcy gave an exasperated sigh. "I guess."
"Oh, hey. You dropped this," Black Widow continued, her apparent irritation evaporating as quickly as it had come.
She produced a familiar purse from under her seat.
"Fuck, yeah! Thanks, uh..."
"Just call me Nat, or Natasha."
"Thanks, Nat."
Darcy took it gratefully and popped open the clasp. Her trusty phone was safe inside.
"Aw, Baby, I missed you too," she murmured to the phone as she unlocked the screen. She had three voicemails and a string of texts, most of them from Jane. She answered with reassurance that she'd been recovered by the Avengers in one piece. She decided to wait until they were out of the helicopter to try listening to the voicemails.
When she glanced up from her phone, Steve caught her eye and tapped his headset. He pulled his off and Darcy followed suit. He leaned in, but even so, Darcy could hardly hear him over the noise of the helicopter.
"How are you doing?" he asked, noting her expression.
"It's fine. I'm fine. Just catching up on texts from this morning." She paused. "Was it really only this morning?"
Steve chuckled. "Hard to believe."
He leaned closer, the buffeting white noise of the helicopter's blades enveloping them like a shroud.
"What's the status of your relationship with Dr. Mallory? You two are close?"
Darcy nodded. "Not as close as we used to be, but yeah. He's one of the reasons I settled on political science for my undergrad. He taught my first class on the subject, and we hit it off. Both personally and academically, you could say. He was my thesis advisor, really encouraged me to pursue grad school, but I got caught up interning with Jane and my life just...took a different turn, I guess. I'd consider him a mentor in the same way as Jane. He's a really good man. He doesn't deserve to be caught up in anything like this."
"I'm sure he doesn't. We'll get him clear, Darcy. It's what the Avengers do."
"Yeah, I know. I'm allowed to worry though, right?"
Darcy looked up into Steve's piercing blue eyes. He wasn't smiling as he considered her, his gaze flickering over her face. She returned his regard, noting that the bruises around his eyes had already receded. Did the super-soldier serum really help him heal that fast?
"How about you?" she asked, changing the subject. "Are you okay?"
"Eh, hungry. But fine. Thanks to you, I should add."
"Nah, you did all the heavy lifting. And I'm starting to suspect, despite hardware to the contrary, these douche bags don't really know what they're doing. Honestly, that makes me worry more. I like predictable, Steve. Not guys who forget to clear the top shelf of the bathroom."
"The box cutter?"
"Yep."
"How did you get out of the back room?"
"Jimmied it with bobby pins. It was a super-old lock, to be fair. I didn't really know what I was doing. I just got bored and antsy. I could hear all the football yelling so I figured it was my best chance."
Steve was grinning at her now. Embarrassed, Darcy looked away. The cut on his lip had already healed, leaving just a pair of slightly swollen and downright kissable-looking lips. Don't think about the lips, Darcy, she told herself. But she couldn't deny the little thrill that went through her. Too bad she wasn't made of the right stuff to impress a super-hero. Steve was probably ready to get back to exciting adventures after babysitting her for two days. She felt his now-familiar hand brush her shoulder.
"Sharp, brave, and resourceful. I need to ask Tony why we're keeping you hidden away in a lab."
"Well, I do have a tendency to drop f-bombs under stress. I'd probably be bad for the image."
"I'm sure that's not true," Steve murmured.
He'd come close enough now that his breath tickled her ear. Darcy's brain did the unthinkable - it froze up. Fresh out of clever things to say, Darcy just shrugged and leaned back a little. Steve smiled once more and put his headset back on, so she did the same.
Darcy took a long look at Steve when he turned his head to stare out the window. He was messy and muddy, his t-shirt melting into various shades of brown from blood, dust, drywall, and mud. His grey sweatpants were in a shocking state; his sneakers unsalvageable. His hair was crusted with dust and dirt, sticking up on one side where he'd run fingers through it.
As ridiculous as it sounded, she liked what she saw - a lot. The cleaned-up posterboy was alright, but the real Steve worked damn hard, and right now he looked like it. Darcy's heart dropped into her stomach as she remembered why he was so beat up - she was the sole reason. Guilt and embarrassment rushed in for the hundredth time. She turned away to her own window; she couldn't watch him anymore.
Darcy came out of her reverie when Nat tapped her on the shoulder, offering water and a snack. Darcy smiled gratitude at the other woman.
"We'll be there in about twenty minutes," Nat's voice informed her through the headset.
Darcy nodded. Nat was nice, she decided. Darcy still felt intimidated by the Russian spy-assassin-hero-what-have-you vibe, but she felt her initial impression softening. She supposed if she'd seen Steve come through as many horrible scenarios as Black Widow probably had, she might not pay attention to two black eyes on the guy either. Still…
The helicopter landed at a private yard and a black van whisked them away to the safe house. It was as unassuming and mundane as Darcy had expected, right down to the white painted trim and old-fashioned house numbers affixed to the front door. Her curiosity sparked for a moment and she almost asked how they maintained places like this, and whether someone lived there. Then exhaustion smothered the impulse as she realized she was too tired to listen to the answer.
"There's a bathroom down the hall. We have time for you to take a shower, if you're quick," Nat told her, pointing helpfully toward the back of the house. "There's a couple changes of clothes in there, too."
"Thank God," Darcy muttered.
She hadn't been pleased about the delay, but now that they were at the house, she couldn't deny that a shower sounded like heaven.
"Why don't you go first, Darcy? I'll eat and work logistics with Nat, get in touch with the team," Steve offered.
Darcy didn't argue. The bathroom had a generously-sized shower and plenty of hot water. Darcy stripped off her filthy clothes, leaving them on the floor since no hamper was evident. She almost cried when the hot water touched her skin. Then she did cry (a little) when mud spattered the shower tiles as she washed and rinsed her hair. She almost went lizard-brain, standing motionless with the water running over her face and chest, but shook herself and remembered Steve was waiting for his turn. She splashed water over the walls to rinse down her grime, then twisted the water back off when she was satisfied the space was clean.
Darcy found a giant, fluffy towel in the linen cabinet next to the sink. Being clean is kinda messing me up, she thought as she pinched back a few more tears. She knew she should let it out, but this didn't feel like a good time. She really didn't want to cry in front of the Black Widow, or again in front of Steve. Instead, she sniffed back her tears, dried everything, and yanked a t-shirt, a pair of too-big jeans, and a belt out of the linen cabinet. She grimaced as she put back on her dirty underwear and bra, but the fresh clothes were nice. Even if she felt pretty silly wearing baggy jeans with her ankle boots.
She rejoined their small group in the kitchen, having combed out her wet hair. Steve and Nat sat on bar stools at a generous kitchen island. Steve was munching on a sandwich and Darcy could see that an untouched plate had been set out for her. A cell phone and several papers were scattered over the surface, but they had apparently concluded whatever calls they needed to make. She leaned her elbows self-consciously on the counter as they turned to her.
"Feel better?" Steve asked around a mouthful of bread and lettuce.
"Yeah. A lot. I hope you washed your hands."
Steve swallowed, grinned, and held up clean hands for her to see.
"That was his fifth sandwich," Nat informed Darcy, rolling her eyes.
"Eh, you deserve it," Darcy decided as she picked up her own sandwich.
Steve licked his lips and took a sip of water, his gaze running over Darcy.
"You joining my fan club now?" he teased.
"What? Oh!" Darcy looked down at herself.
Her blue t-shirt was printed with a huge image of Captain America's shield. It actually looked pretty great on her, if she said so herself. She smirked as she cocked her head to one side.
"Don't get too excited, Rogers. It's the only shirt they have here."
"There goes my hope of wearing the Hulk under my kevlar."
Nat cleared her throat and tapped the spot on her wrist where a watch would sit. "We have places to go, Steve. Get in the shower or skip it."
"Okay, okay," he relented, pushing away from the island.
Darcy took his stool once he vacated it. Nat looked completely out of place in her Avengers uniform, tight black leather at odds with the cheerful suburban flavor of the kitchen. She smiled at Darcy nonetheless, and Darcy smiled back. Unsure what to say, she took another bite of her sandwich.
"Is it okay if I make a few more phone calls?" Nat asked, standing abruptly.
"Yeah. Of course," Darcy replied around a full mouth of food.
Just like that, Darcy was alone in the kitchen. There were two other agents wandering around somewhere, but neither of them came in as she ate by herself. Darcy pulled out her phone and dialed up her voicemail messages. One was from her mother, but two were Brendan, sent during the hours she'd been in Smug's car this morning, she guessed. The controlled panic in Brendan's voice made her frown. She checked the time and sighed; it was just after midnight. Hang on, Brendan. We're coming.
Steve returned as Darcy was finishing a few rounds of Candy Crush on her phone.
"Are you ever not on that thing?" he asked.
He slid onto the bar stool across from her.
Darcy looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "I plead the Fifth. I will say, however, that these things even have books on them. It's not all games and social media."
"I knew that. What kind of books do you have?"
"I don't know, Steve, what do you like to read?"
Steve was caught flat-footed and Darcy stared at him as he thought. Did he really not know?
"There's mysteries, sci-fi, romance…"
"Romance? Really?"
"Hey, it's the 21st century. I'm not here to judge your taste in literature."
Steve's brow drew together as he thought hard. "You know, I've read a decent amount since I woke back up, but a lot of it was hard to get into because there's a whole world of casual reference and pop culture I just don't understand yet. I've been sticking to mostly non-fiction. But I remember this author I got into as a kid…"
"Contemporary to that time? Older?"
"Just a little older. He was writing around the turn of the century. There was a story about some kids and a castle… in another one I think there was a thing called a sand fairy…" Steve trailed off, and Darcy was surprised to see him actually blushing. "I don't know. It was a long time ago."
"No, no, that actually rings a bell. Hang on. Let me use my other brain?"
Darcy held up the phone and wiggled it. Steve nodded assent. Darcy tapped quickly on the touch screen.
"Got it. Five Children and It, by Edith Nesbit. I read it as a kid, too."
"Edith?" Steve asked, leaning in to see the screen. "I didn't know what 'E.' stood for. You've read it? Is it still in print?"
Darcy couldn't help but smile at Steve's shining eyes and carefree expression. Was this what he was like under all the hurry and obligation? He seemed so much younger. She blinked, realizing his cuts and bruises from two hours prior were gone. Just gone. She pulled herself back to the thread of the conversation.
"Yeah, dude. Her books are still famous."
"We've gotta head out," called Nat from the kitchen entryway. "The Avengers are assembling in Willowdale, Virginia."
Steve's expression immediately shuttered, and Darcy sighed to herself. What a life, she thought. She could never have been a soldier, at the beck and call of the job, constantly on the go. They stood, all business, and everyone hustled out to a black van waiting in the driveway.
Darcy buckled in and hugged her arms around herself. Just a few more hours, and everything would be all right - she hoped.