She wakes with silent screams dancing across her lips, and tears streaking down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she reaches up and rubs both hands against her face to wipe away the rivers of salty tears. Then she folds back her covers, and lets her legs dangle off the side of her bed. Without even having to think about it, she concedes that she won't be getting any more sleep in her own bed tonight. With a defeated sigh of frustration, she stands. Then she trudges over to her closet, and digs around for her giant, warm sweatshirt that she stole from Thor a long time ago. She shrugs on the oversized clothing item, which nearly hangs down to her knees and dwarfs her frame, before grabbing her phone, and leaving her room.
She wanders the halls of the Tower, no destination in mind other than somewhere away from her bedroom and the nightmares that haunt it. Even with the other Tower inmates' odd waking hours, it's normally pretty quiet at this time of night, and she doesn't expect to run into anybody. After walking for a little while, she finds that her feet have taken her up to the kitchen and common room a floor above her. She pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that line one wall, and looks down at the City That Never Sleeps, staring blankly at the lights of the streets below. The old Darcy would've made some snarky comment, even if only in her head, about the tiny little people being so far below her and how yes, she is boss, no matter what Agent Hottie McHotarms says. Now, though, Darcy Lewis is silent, even in her own mind.
It's been nearly two years since Alien Invasion Number...Suck It with the creepy as hell space-elf-dudes-of-disappointing-lack-of-hotness (seriously, she was promised Legolas level hotness after meeting Thor), but the aftermath still lingers on. She supposes it's like a tsunami. When it comes, it's quick and abrupt, destroying everything in its path with no regard whatsoever of where it's going. Yet, when it ends, and the tide has pulled away, all that's left is pain that remains long after the tsunami has ended. All you can do is pick up the pieces that it's left behind, and hope that they go back together again in some way, no matter how broken.
Even now, after all this time has passed, she can still very vividly remember the feeling of her heart thumping wildly in her chest as she runs from the huge metal robot during her first alien invasion. She remembers praying to any deity that would listen to spare her life and the life of everyone in the little town she had come to begrudgingly like, even as she continued to rescue all the animals from the local pet shop that had caught on fire. If she thinks on it long enough, she can practically see the flames engulfing the building. She can hear the screams from those around her as they run away. She can feel the exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pushes herself to run faster. It's not long before she's lost in her thoughts, and lost to the present.
Soon, her thoughts stray to the Convergence in London, to the last time she spoke. Instead of focusing on the actual experience, though, her mind wanders to the aftermath. She should be grateful that she's even alive, given the fact that others aren't. She knows just how close she was to death, and nothing will let her forget it. It's not her dear Jane's fault, but a small part of her can't help but blame the absent-minded astrophysicist at least the slightest bit.
It had been an accident, and Darcy knows this. Jane had flipped the wrong switch, and hadn't meant to use the sciencey stick on her. Nothing in the thoroughly checked and rechecked research had there been any indication that the current situation would be even remotely possible. Later, when the bad guys had been defeated, and things were finally calming down, her friend had apologized profusely and repeatedly for the mistake. Unlike most things, though, the problem couldn't be fixed with just a simple apology, no matter how many of them are given. The damage has been done and Darcy will have to live with it for the rest of her life. Now, Darcy is a mute who will never again be able to speak.
So invested is she in her thoughts, she barely notices when she has company. When she looks to her side, she finds someone she hadn't at all expected. It's James. The former Winter Soldier stands silently next to her in casual clothing, gazing out and over the world beyond the window. His hair hangs like a curtain between them, and his posture is hunched slightly, as though unconsciously trying to appear smaller. She's staring, but she can't help it. Even though he's been at the Tower for months now, she's never actually met him before. Sure, she's seen him in passing, but they'd never actually gotten this close before. She's amazed that he's decided to voluntarily attempt to interact with her. Finally, after a few moments, she's able to peel her eyes from his form, and turns back to watch the city. They stand there silently for a while longer before he surprises her by speaking.
"You used to be able to see the stars clearer. Sure, it wasn't crystal clear or anythin', but we didn't have all these tall skyscrapers lightin' up the night all the time," he says in a scratchy tone barely louder than a whisper. His voice is soft, but has a rough edge to it. His words are so unexpected and out of nowhere, but the sound of them has a weak smile pulling at Darcy's lips. She arches an eyebrow in response, indicating that she wants him to continue.
"Stevie and I didn't have a whole lot of money for fun stuff while we were growin' up so on the nights that his health would allow, we'd go up to the roof of our buildin' with a couple blankets and lay and just look at the stars. It was free, and it wasn't hard on his body. Plus, the sky was pretty to look at," he tells her. She nods in agreement and understanding.
After his admission, they go back to silence. It' s a comfortable silence now, though. While the time before he had spoken had been a tense, broken silence that drove a chasm between them, this absence of sound is more accepting. It's no longer a void that needs to be filled with awkward small talk. His voluntary personal fact had been like a bridge of sorts, linking them together by a delicate new bond of sharing a fondness for just admiring the stars for their beauty without having to analyze ten ways from Tuesday. It's a companionable peace that rests between them, like a softly flowing river.
Time passes. Neither of them really notice or care. Soon, she begins to feel drowsiness settle in, and Darcy decides she should at least try to rest, even though she knows that sleep won't welcome her back into its arms. She turns her head, and gives the man standing next to her a small smile. She mouths thank you, Barnes to him before starting to move away.
"It's James, doll," his voice floats over to her over his shoulders. A grin spreads across her face. He wants her to think of him as a friend. Only people he trusts and likes does he allow to call him "James." She moves over to the couch, and lays down. A small, soft smile tugs the corners of her lips upwards at the thought of the new friendship that James has offered, and how beautiful it will be.