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Chapter 6
May 12, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower
Strong cheekbones. Straight nose. Full lips. Blue eyes.
It was Steve, but it wasn't.
"I met a doctor named Erskine in '43," he explained as he sat plastered to her side on his couch. It hadn't taken long for them to get to his apartment that Tony had set up for him. Between Darcy wrapping herself around him and him trying not to push her up against the glass of the elevator, anyway. "He developed this serum that he injected me with. And before I knew it, this happened," he finished, gesturing to his body.
There was a migraine beginning to bloom behind her eyes. Her brain was trying to fit together all the missing pieces, but it was exhausting. She'd dreamt about him. About Bucky so often that it felt like it was just another dream. If it was, she never wanted to wake up.
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, wringing her hands listlessly as she pulled away from him. It was a fact that rang true.
Steve instantly protested. "You have as much of a right to be here as I do – "
"That's…not what I meant." She sighed, focusing on the ground between her sock-clad feet. "I should be dead. So should you! It's almost a hundred years later and I'm still here. Why? What's the point?"
"I'd be alone without you," he said softly. His face was insecure, reminding Darcy of the small boy from Brooklyn. "I know I'm not how you remember me, but you look just like you did when we said goodbye at the airport. I…I don't know what happened to you, honey, but I'll tell you anything about me that you wanna know."
"You were…Captain America?"
"I am," he answered surely. "But I'll step down, go anywhere with you – "
"No…I-I want to do what you want. My mind is all jumbled most of the time." Darcy gave him a sad gapped-tooth smile as she tapped her finger against her temple. "They messed me all up in here. Talia's been helping me, Clint, too. There're just parts of my memory that are gone, like poof." She made an explosion with her hands before she finally turned to look at him. "I'm not the same Darcy you remember. I…I know she's still in there somewhere, but it's a matter of finding her."
Steve sighed, detesting the distance between them. To have her here after so long was so surreal that he didn't hesitate to put his hands on her waist and pull her into his lap.
Surprise filled her features and she wryly said, "I remember when you couldn't do that."
"There's a lot that I can do now. Stuff that would make the old Steve have an asthma attack. Or die." He paused before moving his hands from her waist to her face, cradling it. "Does it bother you?"
She shook her head. "No. I just…I keep expecting to squish you."
"You never squished me, Darce. Even when I was skin and bones. And after last night, I'm confident you'll never ever squish me."
They were quiet for a few moments, each just holding onto the other as their minds ran back to the night before. In her head, she'd rationalized that she jumped him because her subconscious knew that it was Steve, especially since she was half asleep. The peace she felt was palpable. But being in such strong arms reminded her of Bucky and her heart wanted to break all over again.
Her face was nestled against his throat, her lips flush against his Adam's apple. Eyelashes fluttered against his jaw and he simply held her tighter.
"I never stopped loving you, Darcy." His voice was low and full of emotion. Her hands knotted in his t-shirt as she listened to the reassuring rumble of his voice. "Even after the postcards stopped coming; I knew you'd come home to us."
"Postcards?" She asked, pulling back just enough so she could look at him. "I only sent a couple and that was before I came home to visit."
"Darce, I've got postcards from all over that you sent us. The last one was from Honolulu in '41. Buck and I thought." He swallowed hard, blinking away the wetness that was trying to gather in his eyes. "We thought we lost you in Pearl Harbor. That's why we enlisted."
Her eyebrows were in her hairline. "I've never been to Hawaii. HYDRA must've sent them – "
"HYDRA?"
Steve's tone of voice and sudden stillness had her tensed along with him. She scrambled to get enough of her wits about her to nod. "Me and Talia were part of the KGB, part of HYDRA."
"But – "
"It's why I don't age. Why my memory is like swiss cheese. They used electric shock therapy and cattle prods and whips." She shuddered, her eyes downcast. "They…took me from myself."
He grimaced. "They took you from me."
"Steve – "
"You were mine. And Bucky's." His voice cracked a little as his fingers tangled in her hair and made their eyes meet. "Bucky never stopped believing that you were alive. He…he was captured by HYDRA, too." He paused, shaking his head. "He said he saw you. Before I rescued him. Said you were there and we had to save you. What if he was right – "
"I was too far gone, Stevie. You couldn't have saved me if you tried."
They were silent. He knew that it wouldn't be easy. That she wouldn't have a simple story of why she was kept alive for so long. Her body was the exact same as he remembered it, practically frozen at eighteen while he had more years after her. More years alone after Bucky died.
"You…do you remember anything from after you visited us? After…after my ma died?"
She nodded slowly. "I remember going back to Russia and there was a doctor…he helped me, but he was bad, Stevie," she looked up at him with wide eyes. "He gave me this shot and then…and then locked me away. I don't remember as much. It comes in bits and pieces, but his name was something odd."
"Have you tried to ask JARVIS?"
Darcy looked away, willing the tears from her eyes. "I asked him about Bucky. I…I know he's dead, Steve." She paused, turning back towards him as she whispered, "How did it happen?"
He didn't want to have this conversation, he wasn't ready to have this conversation, but his girl deserved to know. She deserved to know that Bucky had gotten a Purple Heart and Bronze Star Medal for his sacrifice for his country.
"In the war, I was meant to be like a performing monkey. Kinda like your circus get-up, but less fire," he smiled, remembering how beautiful she'd looked in that little costume. "Bucky and his regiment was trapped behind enemy lines and I was little more than a peon, but I stormed in with what I could gather soldier wise and got 'em out. From then on, I started callin' myself Captain and it kind of stuck.
"We raided a lot of HYDRA facilities, took 'em down, but there was a doctor we were after. Heard he was experimenting on people, trying to copy the serum that Erskine gave me. Our reg – we called ourselves the Howling Commandos – pinpointed what train he'd be on. Made it our mission to get to him." He paused, swallowing thickly. "We used a makeshift zipline to get onto the train and we all made it, but that son of a bitch was prepared. Had Nazis everywhere, firing at anything that moved. Bucky was in the way, but…he moved quick enough. They blew a hole in the side of the train and I tried to get to him…"
Darcy put her hand over her mouth in horror, trying to stifle the sob that was threatening to break out. Her little hand clutched against shoulder tightly and he pushed on.
"He had a bad grip on the train. I managed to get over to him, but we couldn't…I couldn't grab him fast enough. His last words were tellin' me to find our girl." Steve cupped her face in his hands, thumbing away her tears as he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her salty lips. "He swore up and down that you were alive. That he saw you at that HYDRA facility when they captured him. Fuck…he was probably right."
She nuzzled her face against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Stevie."
He shook his head. "We never even found out what Zola wanted. The UN offered him a deal after we arrested him – Darce, what's wrong, honey?"
"Zola?" She asked, pulling away and removing herself from his lap completely. "Dr. Zola…Arnim Zola. He had me, Stevie. He had me! He was the doctor I met in Russia. He…he gave me a shot and…they put me in the Red Room when he didn't come back. The KGB! It was all because of him!"
"Things are not as they seem, Captain Rogers."
Steve stilled for a moment, turning a curious eye to the man. "How do you know my name?"
Dr. Zola shrugged, adjusting his glasses. "I make it a priority to know my…asset's potential adversaries."
"You…were an asset, weren't you?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"I didn't have a choice."
May 14, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower
When Darcy woke up in a strange place with a body curled around her like ivy, she stilled so much that she scarcely breathed.
She did inventory. Strange room, three windows, nightstand with a lamp and alarm clock, heavy presence behind her.
"Darce?" Steve asked sleepily, causing a whoosh of air to leave her lungs in relief. She snuggled back against him closer, dragging his arm from around her waist to between her breasts. His left hand cradled the right side of her face and she sighed in contentment.
"You still have it," she whispered. She pulled away just far enough to look at the steel band wrapped around his ring finger.
"I made these, too," the brunet said when he pulled away, opening the smaller box and revealing two matching steel bands.
Her fingers traced over the edges of his words. It was her first time seeing them since Steve always wore long sleeved shirts that buttoned at the wrists before. Now, he wore t-shirts and unbuttoned flannels. It was…odd.
"Why wouldn't I?" He murmured back shifting so she could read his words.
Can I help you?
She laid her head back down in his hand and closed her eyes. "Did I say that to you?"
"Honey – "
Darcy rolled over onto her back and looked up at his face. His brows were drawn together and he looked like he was thinking hard about something. Her hand tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down for a slow kiss.
It was like another piece slid into place. Like she wasn't as far under water as she was before.
"Lord, I missed you," Steve panted as he pulled away. His lips pressed a soft kiss against her forehead and she smiled up at him. "You're so beautiful, honey."
"Do you know what my words say?"
Bucky's fingers had reached out of their own accord – really, they did – and he'd unclasped her bracelet with a flick of his wrist. Using the crack of early morning sunlight that filtered through the curtains, he read the words circled around her right wrist.
I saw the light.
What an odd thing for words to say. Oddly poetic and wholly something Bucky had never thought he'd said. Ever. Most likely something Steve hadn't said either.
Before he could think anymore about it, she shuffled in her sleep and he was quick to slide the bracelet back onto her wrist and click it shut.
"I shouldn't've looked," Bucky moped, staring at the eggs as if they'd personally offended him. "I broke her trust – "
"I don't like that ya looked, Buck, but it's good to know." Steve stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "We really gotta remember. She said my words, Buck, and she said yours, too! Just gotta dig into out heads and see if we can remember."
He looked ashamed for just a moment before he shook his head. "We…I never asked. I figured that if we didn't match…Buck said it didn't matter. That you'd be our girl no matter what, but I guess I was scared that you'd leave us…"
She pondered that. She felt the truth in his words, as if she'd thought the same thing at one time. But now she wasn't able to see her words if she wanted to.
"What's goin' on in your head, Darce?"
"Just wish I knew how to get these bracelets off. I want to see my words, too," she said, smiling a little at how the bit of Brooklyn had slipped into his question. "I think we match. I…I know that I have two sets of them, but I can't remember what they say."
His fingers rubbed the steel reassuringly. "You always wore ribbons tied 'round them – where are you going?"
Darcy had scrambled out of the bed in a hurry, knocking her hip against the dresser he had by the door to his room.
"Motherfuck," she bit out, clutching her hip. Her gait was a bit crooked as she grabbed one of Steve's sketchbooks and a pen, writing her thought down before she forgot.
"Language," he chided from behind her, his hand going to her hip and rubbing it soothingly as he read over her shoulder. "Lenta? Ribbon?"
Resisting the shudder that rolled through her, she nodded. "One of my trigger words. There were a few that I didn't know about – that I couldn't decipher."
He nodded. "What were the other ones?"
"Uh. Fire and circus."
"You were in the circus in…'33." His lips pressed up against the smooth column of her neck and she shivered happily. "It was '35 'fore we saw ya again. Spot took me 'n' Buck to the circus on the edge of town and there ya were, spitting fire and walkin' a tightrope like ya were born to."
She giggled. "I love when ya talk Brooklyn t' me." She paused and tilted her head as he kissed just below her ear. "Who's Spot?"
"Your brother, honey. Spot Conlon?"
There was nothing there. No memory. No feeling. His name didn't ring any metaphorical bells.
"I don't remember," she sighed, pushing away from the small desk and limping into the living room before collapsing onto the couch. She stared at the ceiling as she wracked her brain for anyone named Spot. Who the hell would name their kid Spot?
"His given name was Sean, but he went by Spot." At her odd look, he added, "You said that out loud, honey." He moved her feet up and sat down, letting them fall into his lap. "He's still alive, y'know. Old as dirt, but in a home in Brooklyn, almost his birthday."
Darcy was quiet for a few moments before she spoke. "Can we go see him? Maybe…maybe I'll remember something."
"You want me to get on that?"
Steve handed her a helmet and sighed. "I'm the best driver – "
"You landed a plane in the ocean – "
" – and it'll be quicker than taking a cab."
Darcy stared at the motorbike with apprehension. In the past, Steve wouldn't have been able to hold the damned thing up let alone ride it! Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth and she shifted her yellow Converse clad feet nervously. The helmet in his hand was still extended towards her and she snatched it away from him and stuffed it on her head.
"That's my girl."
"Shut up, Rogers," she mumbled as she followed suit and swung her leg over the body of the bike, her arms wrapping around his waist tightly.
His hand trailed along the outside of her thigh, making sure it hitched up just right so it wouldn't drag on the cement. He whistled low, "Gotta love modern clothes. Hafta admit I miss the dresses, though."
She blinked owlishly and looked down at her almost-threadbare leggings and grimaced. It was a miracle that she and Steve had just slept the night before. Kissing was one thing, but she was…she was still Darcy, but not the same Darcy that had slept with two men at once. She was self-conscious now, especially when everything she owned was deciding to fall apart at the same time.
"I wore dresses?" She didn't seem the type.
He chuckled. "All the time. Unless ya were wearin' a pair of Bucky's pants. Which looked just as good."
The bike roared to life beneath her and she squeaked, holding on so tight that she was a little disappointed that she hadn't gotten him out of his clothes the night before. The man was ripped.
It was about a half hour ride to Brooklyn from Stark Tower. Darcy used the time to appraise the streets, see if anything was familiar while Steve simply enjoyed the feeling of his girl's arms around him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't starved for attention. But not just any attention, her attention.
He knew deep down that if Darcy wouldn't have ended up alive, that he wouldn't have lasted very long in the Avengers Initiative. He wouldn't have quit, no, but he would have done his damndest to get put out of comission when the assignments started rolling out.
"Peggy…this is my choice." Steve sighed, pulling the faded photograph of Darcy out of his suit and placing it near the gauges on the dash. Taking a deep breath, he pushed down on the controls, watching the clouds zoom past him as the plane nosedived. His eyes were drawn to Darcy, hoping that he'd finally get to see her and Bucky again.
He had been prepared to end it when he put the Valkyrie down. Prepared to see Darcy again and hold her and love her.
Now, nearly seventy years later, he had her on the back of his bike, her little hands flush against his abdomen. It was good. Life was good. There was bound to be obstacles like her memory and learning to live without Bucky, but he was in it for the long haul. Even fully prepared to step down from his role as Captain America to give his girl the dream of being in the country where nothing could touch them.
Steve wasn't paying attention to the streets, allowing muscle memory to take over and get them to their destination. He hadn't bothered calling ahead, figuring Spot would just wave it off as a crank call. It was his birthday and he'd be expecting guests anyway.
As soon as he parked the bike, Darcy was off like a shot, vomiting in the bushes right next to the sidewalk.
"Maybe we should take a cab next time," he said slowly as he grabbed the helmet she'd thrown towards him and stowed it under the seat. He took a minute to really look at her – he hadn't really done much other than moon over her – and he watched her body language as she slowly righted herself.
Darcy was a bit harder than he remembered. Her movements were rigid and she seemed to curl in on herself more often than not. The way she painted her lips was still the same, but she didn't show off her body like he was used to, choosing instead to wear shapeless sweaters and oversized shirts he had a hunch were Barton's. Her blue eyes were more guarded, but her smile was just as carefree when she chose to grace him with it. It was like she was scared of herself when all he wanted to do was adore her.
It had been hell convincing Barton that she would be safe with him. The archer wanted to send a detail and use coms, but it wasn't necessary. Steve could protect her if anything went south. Hell, he was sure she could protect herself.
"I don't like it," Barton had said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Steve with distaste. "At least let me or Nat come with – "
"She wants to see her brother. Alone. Her safety is my number one priority. Nothing will happen."
"And what if HYDRA shows up? What are you gonna do about it?"
"Protect her, Barton. I'm a soldier. I know what I'm doing."
"Jesus, I'm dying."
Steve's attention snapped back to her and he frowned before handing her a handkerchief. "You're not dying."
"Did I always have motion sickness?" She asked, wiping her mouth and pocketing the scrap of fabric. "Or is this new?"
"You never had it that I knew of. But we didn't drive a lot of places – normally walked. Brooklyn was…not small, but small enough."
His hand went to her waist and she snuggled into his side, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I've missed you," she whispered, pressing a kiss just above his ribs.
"You don't know the half of it."
They made their way up the outside stairs of the senior home slowly, relishing in being able to hold each other. He got the door for her and ushered her inside, although he did stare at her ass while he did so.
He was still a man, after all.
There was a tired looking woman that was sitting behind the desk that was tucked in the right hand corner of the lobby and she looked down over her glasses at them.
"Can I help you two?"
Steve stepped up and smiled at the woman. "We're here to see Sean Conlon. My name's Steve and this is Darcy – "
"Neither of you are on his visitor list," the woman cut him off after flipping through a few papers.
The blond sighed and nodded. "Of course, ma'am. I just figured it would be real nice to visit him. See, it's his birthday and I thought a visit from Captain America might be a good present. It's not everyday that someone turns – "
"Did you say Captain America?" The woman's entire attitude changed and she got up from her chair and crowded the pair of them down a hall. "I can't turn away one of Brooklyn's finest. Do you mind if we get a photo? Oh, I'm sure Spot will be beside himself."
Darcy rolled her eyes at his 'ma'am' routine. She wondered how many other women had fallen for it and suddenly she felt her stomach turn uncomfortably. It's not like she was a stranger to jealousy – hell, she felt it each time she had walked to the market with the boys and they turned more than a few heads, even with Steve being small – and she didn't like it one bit.
Her jealousy, however, took a back burner as Steve allowed her to flit into the room the woman had stopped in front of, promising that he'd join her as soon as the woman got a few pictures.
Darcy took in the sparse room and she was beginning to wonder if that was what her new life was about.
Sparseness.
It was weird when she had memories of Steve's house being homey and full of life and Bucky's house being as lived in as they come. Spot's room was literally a bed, a desk, a rocking chair by the window, and a little chest of drawers. There were two other doors and she assumed one was a closet and the other a bathroom respectively. But she wasn't so much as paying attention to the room as she was the man sitting in the rocking chair, gazing out the window.
Closing the door behind her, she knocked on the wall. "Mr. Conlon?"
"If you're here t' give me my meds, ya can fuck right th' fuck off."
She stumbled, a little taken aback by his words as a small flood of memories came back from hearing his voice. She shook her head and tried again. "I'm actually here t' see ya."
He turned and glared at her, his hand going to his chest a second later. "Christ a' mighty, I'm dead, ain't I?"
Spot definitely looked his age. His face was lined with wrinkles and his hair had mostly gone white, well, what he had left of it. A pair of red suspenders held up his khaki pants and there was still a dimple in his chin. But his eyes were what got her. They still looked young, still ready for life and what Brooklyn had to throw at him.
"Hi, Spot," she whispered as she made her way over to him, slipping to her knees next to the rocking chair and looking up at his face in wonder.
"Never seen a doll sell papers," he shook his head as he chuckled.
"I gotta be dead. Ya takin' me t' heaven, doll?"
Darcy laughed and swiped at the tear that had trailed down her cheek. "You're not dead. I came t' see ya for your birthday." The Brooklyn came out of her without her permission, but she didn't care.
"Darcy…" His hand shook as he reached out and cupped her cheek, causing her to smile widely as she hiccupped. "I've gotta be dead t' be seein' ya, doll. Ya died…in Pearl Harbor. That's wha' those boys were sayin' 'bout ya. Damn near lost my mind."
"I didn't die, Spot. I'm still here." She shook her head. "It's a long story, but I'm still me. Steve…Steve's here, too. We're a little different than you."
He chuckled. "Well, get up on the bed, doll. Might as well tell me everythin'. I've got nothin' but time."
She complied, content with just staring at him before she started. "It all started when I went to Russia…"
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~Grace
