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Chapter 5
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Both Darcy and Steve dive into their assigned work with a vigor, but it turns out that SHIELD and the Avengers are flying more blind than ever. Cap at least can get in some serious work, putting away his annoyance with Natasha in favor of asking her to tell him absolutely everything Bucky's been through, how he was trained, what his arm does, etc. Natasha hesitates at first, but soon the two of them are meeting every day, heads bent over their research, Steve reading reports and Nat adding personal anecdotes. Darcy and the others, however, are finding their jobs to be much more difficult.
"We can spot this gal on cameras, from eyewitness accounts," She tells Steve one night, rubbing her eyes, the screen in front of her starting to blur together after hours of tracking down intel on her assigned super-spy, "But whatever her movements are, how she got a ticket to the US, they're not showing up -anywhere-. Not even on the freaky-deaky, deep dark levels of communication that still knew every move Bruce made when he left the world."
"Is Fury ready to go ask some special friends for help yet?" Steve asks, moving behind her to rub her shoulders. Darcy goes limp in her chair, groaning low.
"...Just about," She manages.
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It's more disturbing though, to find out that Heimdall can't see -any- of the activated, former-Soviet spies, as well as the few known soldiers of fortune. By this time their friends a little south of the Avengers have caught wind of the alarming patterns...Gambit has gone missing too, as well as a student who goes by Jubilee, Professor Xavier tells Fury. Suddenly, the hunting party gets bigger. Darcy finds herself liaison with one Kurt Wagner, who's kind of amazing at tailing someone (pun totally intended).
It's when both Heimdall on the bifrost, and Xavier in cerebro, can't spot these people, even with Kurt hiding within a few feet of one, that some alarming theories start popping up.
"Xavier couldn't see Clint once either," Fury divulges, during their now-daily debriefing. There are more SHIELD agents in the room now too, not just Darcy and Agent Hill, and it's getting a little crowded. Barton's brows go up. Fury nods to him, meaningfully, "And it was when Loki had you."
"Loki remains in Asgard," Thor assures them, and yet his voice lacks a certain level of conviction, "...I do not doubt my brother's powers of influence, though." He adds on, at length.
"Isn't his famous silver tongue still muzzled?" Tony frowns, and Thor nods, slowly.
"He and his magic are...adaptable. But such adaptations have taken him years, in the past," Thor looking grim just isn't a good sign, and Darcy doesn't like it. Neither does Fury.
"Perhaps it's time you went and had a chat with your little brother."
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Despite the Tower's deep-winters rest coming to an abrupt end, there's still downtime to be had. Humans need to refuel, even super-soldier-humans and mutants, because when they don't they get cranky and the whole close living quarters suffer. Darcy leaves her laptop and Steve leaves his history lessons on the afternoon of Valentine's Day, to meet up for an utterly romantic date at the gym. Because actually leaving the Tower right now would probably get them both plenty of grief, and honestly, with what's going on, neither of them especially want to.
"Oh sweet space alien gods, I needed this," Darcy breathes, jumping off the treadmill after a solid five miles, to the sound of Steve chuckling over by the weight training machines. "I was slowly turning back into the squishy computer-vampire I was two years ago, WHILE doing work," She pauses long enough to chug down some water, before hopping onto one of the high-tech stationary bikes.
"Intel and monitoring are still important work," Steve grins, watching her. Darcy would probably never sport a 'hard body', and she could tell he liked that, her curves firmly in place. She'd toned up something fierce, though, and her arms, legs, and stomach looked crazy in her workout clothes. "We can't all be mutants going 'bamf' in the field."
"Nope, but I can be a leaf on the wind. Watch me soar!" She puts out her arms, letting her legs do the work. Steve just snorts, shaking his head.
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"So how're you and Nat?" Darcy asks later, when they're back in their apartment and peeling off sweaty gym clothes. She poses the question casually enough, but her eyes are all over him, and Steve can feel it. He knows her too well by now, the way her words can be sweet and easy, and her eyes burdened with much more. It twists his heart every time.
Steve knows she tries to shoulder what she can of his dark moods, tries to shine a light on them while pretending it doesn't hurt her to see him brooding. He long ago began training himself not to acknowledge guilt over that, because it was what Darcy wanted to do, what she'd always wanted to do for him even before they fell in love. She hadn't wanted anything else then, she'd just wanted to make him smile. It's hard, but every time Steve wants to beat himself up for being such a sad weirdo around her, he reminds himself to be thankful for her instead.
"Better," He finally replies, actually smirking a little, "She's been through a lot, that gal...not sure I'd want to go around talking about an ex-lover I used to maim people with either, in her place," He sighs, tugging his t-shirt up over his head and tossing it aside, "She says he's been reprogrammed, Darce, but then she'll let slip some joke he made back in Moscow in '88, or the way he'd laugh, and," Steve shakes his head, watching the way her back arches as she rolls off her sports bra. "...It still sounds like the Bucky I used to know."
"Well," Darcy replies, gently, turning on the shower, "Clint was still Clint, everyone including him says. Not some mindless automaton zombie. His will, his goals and his values were what wasn't his any more." Steve nods once in allowance, sighing.
"...I guess I'm just afraid," He admits, quietly, following her into the spray. He loves watching the water soak through all of that hair of hers, his hands drawn to it immediately despite his melancholy, pulling his fingers through the wet strands, "That he'll either be too far gone to save, or..." He swallows, shaking his head, "That it really is him, and they broke him. That's kind of a worse thought, really."
"Don't dwell on that possibility, though," Darcy tells him quietly, just above the noise of the water, but firmly, "I mean, accept it could happen sure, but. They snapped Nat out of it, after all. Odds are way better that you'll get your best bud back," She gives him a little smile, reaching for the soap, and Steve can't help but catch her optimism, nodding, looking down as she soaps up his chest, the suds slipping over her arms and hands.
"You've gotta point there," Cap allows, his voice and mind suddenly wandering, watching her. He didn't know how people got used to this, could take it for granted. Maybe it was because everyone in his old world was gone (well, almost) and he'd treasured her as soon as he'd met her. Maybe it was because he'd waited so long. But the sight of Darcy in front of him, all wide eyes and bare curves and that smile of hers...the one that was always tentative at first, before bursting wide and soft across her lips, the one that's only for him...it never stops doing Steve in.
He tilts forward, lifting her up on one arm and bracing her against the wall. She's nothing to lift, not really, but he's still always gentle when he does, no matter how used to his strength he gets. Darcy giggles, but as their eyes meet the sound softens, her eyes half-lidding as Steve splays one hand over her scarred torso as he kisses her. He tries not to think of how the scars wouldn't be there, if she hadn't lived here. He tries not to think of how, if he'd just been able to hold onto his best friend, Bucky wouldn't be what he is now. Because Steve may have failed to save one of the most important people in his life, but he hadn't failed Darcy. Not yet.
And maybe he wouldn't fail Bucky again.
"Why do you put up with me?" He finds himself asking, pressing kisses against the side of her neck. He feels her hands pull through his wet hair, snagging briefly on the edge of her ring. Darcy hums against him, the sound blissful in his ear.
"...Totally the abs," She sighs, dramatically, and Steve can't help grinning. It's just what she does to him, "And, you know," Her voice hitches when his teeth drag across her neck, and it still astounds him, that he can do that to her, have her making those sounds just for him. "You're kind of the best person ever, handsome."
Steve doesn't have words to respond to that. And so he answers her another way, burying his face in her shoulder, blissfully losing himself in her. Letting her know that she's the only place he wants to be.
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They cap off their evening in with, of course, a movie. Darcy decides to go fluffy this time as it's valentine's day, while still somehow in keeping with their current theme. Which is difficult, as most romantic films taking place during wartime don't end well. She almost opts for Atonement, because hey, up until the last twenty minutes, which would make a saint want to slit their own wrists, it's pretty damn romantic. She ends up settling on something much lighter by far, though, and pops in the first Narnia film.
"Technically it totally counts as a World War 2 movie," Darcy maintains, despite Steve's raised brow over the case cover, "Oh come on, I thought you read the books!"
"I'm too busy working on Lord of The Rings," Steve smirks, "When I'm not saving the world. Or watching movies with my girlfriend."
"Touche, soldier," Darcy rolls her eyes, grinning. "You'll like it, promise."
There's some things they'll do, or watch, that will turn Steve Rogers into a complete and utter kid again. Considering recent events, Darcy's pretty proud of the fact that she's managed to get that reaction from him tonight. He's leaning forward on the couch from the first frame on, elbows on his knees, a progressively happier grin on his face. Darcy has to admit, too, there's something about watching any version of Narnia when there's snow outside. Even with what's going on in their world, it's cozy and comforting. Hell they're even drinking cocoa tonight instead of beer.
"That was beautiful," He murmurs, sitting back against the cushions, draining his third mug in one go, smacking his lips. Darcy just smiles around hers, pleased, snuggling close to his side. "We haven't really watched a lot of things with kids from my day in 'em, in color anyway."
"Mmm, and British kids at that," Darcy chuckles, "Man, if I could be guaranteed a Lucy Pevensie, I'd have no hang-ups about kids ever." As soon as she said it though, Darcy winced. Way to go, Lewis. Steve just smirks a little, looking down at his empty mug.
"Even if we could Darce, they uh, wouldn't be British," He points out, and Darcy snorts.
"Well, you know, we could cultivate the accent! Oh man, could you imagine that? The press would have a field day," She waves her hands, "Captain America's Unpatriotic Rugrat, Attending English Boarding School!" She pauses, as he chuckles, biting her lip. Oh why not, "...And we still can, actually. Someday." He blinks at her. "...I'll spare you ALL the gristly details, handsome. But they can still mix up the ingredients...just need a willing oven." She grins, biting her lip. Classy.
"...Huh." Steve blinks, letting that sink in, "...So, there are women who don't mind...?"
"Carrying a baby who isn't theirs? Totally, and it can be great money." Darcy nods, "Some people do it really casually, but I'm sure for Captain America's spawn, SHIELD would like, screen every likely incubator up, down, and sideways before clearing her," She grins at the notion, before noticing the sudden dazed, amazed, and way too intrigued look on Steve's face. Uh oh.
"...Five years at least babe, one step at a time here." Darcy gulps, turning pale. Which makes him bust out laughing.
"Aw hell, way our lives are, we may never want to have a kid," He allows, sighing, slinging a big arm over her shoulders. "...It's nice to know, though."
"I guess. Honestly, I'm surprised I even developed feelings for your dog." At the sound of one of his many names, Volstagg lifts his head, lazily flopping his tail by their feet. "Never been or wanted to be particularly maternal." Darcy can't help smiling though, because they're cozy, they're not thinking about horrible things, and Steve is happy for a little while, "...Unless we get a Lucy."
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The elevators behind them slide open, then, admitting a Norse god in a tux, with a tiny physicist in a sparkly dress tossed over his shoulder, "Darcy!" Thor calls out, grinning, while Jane giggles like a not-very-sober person, "Do we have fresh bread and cuts of beef?" Darcy chuckles, looking over the back of the couch.
"Always, Sir," Jarvis answers before Darcy can. Thor beams, dropping Jane next to the pair of them.
"Excellent! My lady needs a sandwich." And he promptly began rummaging in the kitchen. Darcy and Steve both look Jane over, amused. She looks very gorgeous, and very, very drunk.
"Gooooood night?" Darcy grins, and Jane nods, biting her lip.
"Everyone liked my speech," She says, deliriously, drunkenly pleased, "And then I did shots with Dr. Tyson and the First Lady."
"Ah," Steve is the one who smirks then, shaking his head, "Yeah, don't go toe to toe with Michelle. She drank Tony under the table last time we were there." Darcy snuggles in with her best friend, humming, totally not even finding the conversation weird anymore.
"Goodness, whatever am I going to do with all you amazing, brilliant and important people, mmm?" Darcy was happy, though. It was a good night, and everyone was happy for a few hours, and she had the feeling that they'd be tied up with unhappy things for a little bit longer, until this mission ended. Happy was good. Happy was to be savored.
Especially if it was only for a little while.
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The following day, three of the X-Men arrive at Stark Tower, to report their findings to Director Fury in person. Darcy wonders later, when she finds herself with far too much free time to think in a dark, cold cell, if the wires in the bad guys' communication had been crossed, for them not to realize that reinforcements were in the Tower. Maybe they wanted a good hard fight. Maybe they were counting on added chaos. But if Darcy had to bet, thinking back on it, perhaps it had been meant as a cruel reminder that no matter what, no matter how many people they had, they could still lose.
Because when she heard the explosions, gunfire, and shouting as they filed out of the briefing room, Darcy had actually felt more than confidant, drawing the gun at her hip and following agents and super-people into the action. New York had the Avengers, Wolverine, Nightcrawler and Shadowcat watching over them, all at once. Nothing was supposed to be able to get through that, right?
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