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Chapter 7
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It storms in New York for a week, nonstop. Thankfully, despite being out of season, the city knows how to deal with rain and ice. The Avengers don't really know to deal with a grieving alien god, however. As Thor doesn't seem much inclined to anyone's company, and hasn't destroyed anything, most of SHIELD seems to let him do as he must. Which seems to involve sitting atop the roof of Stark Tower for days, head bent, Mjolnir across his knees, while the storm rages around him.
Darcy knows it's selfish, but she wishes he'd come down and give her one of his big bear hugs, and then they could be miserable together. Erik is heartbroken, yet he's inclined to drunken denial, burying himself in bottles of vodka and then rambling on and on about Jane when she was a little girl, as if she's just gone on a long holiday. Darcy understands, she does. Erik's kept an eye out for Jane ever since her father died, and it has to be easier to numb himself than to acknowledge he hadn't been able to protect her.
As for Darcy, she does what she's always done after a loss. She puts up her walls, and dives into doing things...at least during the day. And right now, that's putting the labs back together, cleaning up the Tower, and reporting to Bruce and Tony, who are among the remaining, functioning science nerds. At first they absolutely refuse to utilize her assistant skills, telling her to go home, take some time off. Betty is much more astute, however, and gives Darcy her coffee order and a stack of notes on the attack to catalog. The men get the hint.
At night, she's a wreck. At night, Darcy collapses on the couch, not moving until Steve comes back from interrogating the captured assassins or trying to get through to Bucky. He gathers her up and lets her shake with sobs, soaking his clothes and leaving marks on his skin where she clutches at him. It's only for a couple of days, though, and then she forces herself to pull it together, to ask if he's making progress with Bucky, and Steve stares at her for a while, before answering that it isn't going so well.
"He suffered amnesia after the fall, and the freeze," Steve sighs, pulling his hands through her hair, "And instead of anyone trying to make him better, he was conditioned...the other way," He winces, as a rib snaps back into place. His best friend's metal arm can really do some damage.
Darcy draws him down to rest his head in her lap, "You'll get through. Utmost faith in you, handsome," She smiles, softly. She's not sure what to make of the troubled look in his eyes, other than it's been a pretty awful time all around.
But then he stops coming home at night.
At least, not until she's already asleep, curled up tight in their bed. Darcy feels Steve slip in a few times, convinced she's still asleep. His arms wrap around her tight then, his head pressed against her shoulder, and his breathing goes ragged and uneven. She's not sure if he actually sleeps at all. A few times, there's a warm dampness that sinks in through her t-shirt sleeve. And then he leaves early in the morning, before she's up, always kissing her cheek gently.
Darcy really doesn't know what to make of it asll, other than to wallow in the fact that now she doesn't have her boyfriend around for much commiserating either. They were good at commiserating, she thought, bouncing woes off each other. No longer, it seems.
And the storm rages on outside.
After a week has passed, Natasha happens to walk by the labs, and Darcy darts up from her desk to intercept her. "Natasha," She calls, and the super spy turns, actually giving Darcy a small smile, "How are things going down there? Awful?"
"...Not entirely," Black Widow tilts her head to the side, thoughtfully. "Barnes is as smarmy as ever, and I'm not sure if we'll find a way to bring back his memories from before the war," She sighs, shaking her head, "...He's fairly forthcoming with what he knows about our smoky enemy, though, after a few failed goes at Tony with that arm."
"Huh..." Darcy blinks, scratching her head, "...How's Steve?" Nat's brows loft.
"He's either in the cell, or sitting just outside of it, scribbling, all day, trying to think of which approach to take next..." The spy looks hard at Darcy, crossing her arms, "Hasn't he been home?"
"...Not til really late," Darcy admits, sighing.
"I'll see about kicking his ass for you."
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The next day is Jane's memorial service. Having no family left, it's a small affair outside of the city, mostly attended by super-people in civilian clothes. Darcy can't bring herself to give a eulogy, instead remaining by Steve, who's surprisingly present again, and affectionate, if quiet. His arm never leaves her shoulders. Thor isn't anywhere to be seen, however Darcy spots Sif in the crowd, burdened with a large offering of flowers whose genus Darcy couldn't possibly name. The physicist is also given a proper Asgardian farewell by the Warriors Three.
"I wish Thor had seen that," Darcy murmurs, quietly, as they ride home in one of Tony's cars.
"I think he did," Steve replies, just as quietly, a sad expression fixed into his smile. "He said he'd be saying goodbye in his own way."
He's with her all through the wake in the penthouse, as Darcy gets good and drunk with Tony, Pepper and Bruce, telling every goofy, embarrassing story about Jane Foster she can think of. It helps, it really does. The rain outside is slacking, as people can't help but share good memories of the tiny scientist who's helped change the world.
The sharp stabbing in Darcy's chest over her death is now a dull ache. Jane had always pushed her to be better, had believed she could accomplish things, and half-way through her third scotch, Darcy decides that her boss and best friend would likely be pretty annoyed if she stayed a mess over losing her, even if it was in the privacy of her own apartment. An ache was okay. An empty place in her life where someone amazing had been, fine. But as the old cliché went, life and super villains didn't take a vacation.
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That night, she and Steve make love again, and there's a fire to it, a desperate, wonderful heat that has them grappling with each other in the sheets, each trying to prove to each other how alive and present they are. That they didn't take each other, living and breathing, for granted. Steve is still clutching her, almost too tight, leaving little marks behind, and Darcy kind of beats herself up for not realizing how Jane's death has hit -him-, so convinced he was taken up entirely with Bucky's situation. Jane died, where Darcy works every day.
She vows to make a point, from now on, to be more mindful of how Cap must worry about her, every day. Sure, Darcy can much better take care of herself now, but the fact remains that she's still squishy compared to superheroes and their villains. She wraps herself tight around him that night, far more steady going forward.
It had been the worst week of Darcy's life, but it was going to get better. Hopefully.
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When Darcy's called into Fury's office the next morning, she's met with a measured expression from the man, his hands folded in front of him. He looks too nice, too, at least for him. The usual fierceness isn't there, and that unsettles Darcy more than anything.
"Agent Lewis, you're being temporarily reassigned."
"...What." Darcy blinks, staring at the man blankly. Fury takes a low breath, looking down at the papers before him.
"The command panels that Dr. Foster destroyed on the Foster Generator need rebuilding, and that will be happening far from this Tower," He explains, his voice crisp and boding no argument, "We're sending yourself and Dr. Ross to one of our hidden bases up north to do the work."
"That...makes no sense, like at all," Darcy shakes her head, incredulous, "First of all, the generator is -here-, second, Erik and Bruce know way more about Jane's research than I do, and third..." Well, her third isn't very solid, but even so, "This is my home, that lab is where I work..."
"We think it best that outside forces go on thinking the generator is irreparable without Dr. Foster, at least for now. They'll only buy that for so long, with Stark here." Okay, granted, Darcy thinks, "And you are a walking dictionary on her notes, if what Dr. Banner says is true." That, though, is barely a justification. Darcy's eyes narrow, even as her stomach drops, a sick feeling growing in her stomach.
"...Who told you to reassign us?" She asks, bluntly. Fury's gaze goes hard, even as his hands relax, fingers unwinding from each other.
"No one -tells- me to do anything, Agent Lewis," He replies, pointedly. After a long, pregnant pause, however, he does go on. "...Though some parties have been known to make formal requests. You leave for Alberta this afternoon."
"Yessir," She growls, rising, fairly proud of her ability to storm the fuck out of a room.
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Darcy hasn't ever been down to what the Avengers so fondly call 'the brig'. Most of the simple, small cells are empty. Most of the attackers who survived the fight had broken free of the mind control when Jane destroyed the reliquary, many of them having been ex spies who'd moved on with their lives. A few, however, like Bucky, hadn't any lives beyond the next job. And apparently, their new adversary had offered to pay them very well.
She didn't much care about all that at the moment, however, stalking straight toward the figure perched in a folding chair outside of Winter Soldier's cell. Steve is intent on something in his sketchbook, until he hears her uniform boots on the floor, looking up. Darcy's kind of satisfied by the 'oh shit' look on that perfect, studly face of his.
"You had me reassigned?" She's also really proud of how she asks this harshly, without actually yelling. Steve's expression goes serious then, and a little hard, as he stands, looking her in the eye.
"...It's temporary," He says, and Darcy throws up her hands, as he confirms what she was still hoping wasn't true. "Darcy," He reaches for the tops of her arms, and she glares up at him, covering the fact of how it scares her that his voice is so controlled, how guarded his eyes are, "You need to be away from the Tower for this one, it's not..."
"I NEED to be here!" Her voice is raising, and so what if it is, she thinks. He's passed the point of understandable irrationality, and actually FORCED her to go. She can sure as hell be irrational right back, "How am I ever supposed to become -better- at keeping myself alive, Steve, if you go over my head -to my boss-, and have me carted off to the bumfuck middle of nowhere every time things get hot?!"
"Jane's DEAD, Darcy!" He shouts, and she winces. He's never lost his temper at her, and it's like a blow. Steve cringes too, reaching up and running both hands through his hair, "...And I've almost lost you once, that can't...it can't happen again." And for all Darcy has sympathy for the fact that he's lost most everyone dear to him, that his best friend is a brainwashed killer, at the moment, he's passed ridiculous.
"And I have come SO far since then, you know it!" She shoots back, standing her ground, "They made me an Agent, and before that I was still your girlfriend, I KNOW what that means, Steve! It means either of us could be dead at any time! It's what I signed on for WAY before I got this uniform!" At that, he nods, dragging a hand over his face, and it isn't very reassuring.
"I know," He whispers, looking at her again, his expression so very pained it sends a jab straight through her heart, despite herself, "I love you, sweetheart, so maybe I want you to remember what life is like away from this place." 'Away from me', hangs in the air. Darcy presses her lips together, hard, willing herself not to shed the saltwater welling up in her eyes, not to double over because that hit her like a physical blow.
"Empty." She turns on her heel, and she knows she's being a bitch, but...again, he fucking crossed the line. He's -forced- her to go. Right after her best friend's died, his is back but damaged, and they should need each other more than ever. Steve's making her leave. "You want me gone, I'm gone," She growls, stalking back down the hall.
He makes some strangled sound behind her, but Darcy doesn't turn, not even when she's in the elevator, going up. Not 'til the doors slide closed. Then she lets herself cringe, curling into herself, shutting her eyes tight.
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By the time she's about to go up and meet her chopper with Betty, Darcy's regretting how they parted, mad as she still is at Captain America. She hopes he'll see her off, but just in case he doesn't, she scrawls a note on one of her Sailor Moon post-its, leaving it on the pillow. She snuggles Volstagg, giving the mutt a goodbye belly-rub, before hauling up her faded dufflebag and heading for the elevators, to the roof.
As she feared, Steve isn't there to say goodbye, and it almost makes her break down again. Darcy holds it together though, lifting her chin and giving a wan smile to Betty, who looks about as amused by all this as Darcy feels. Superhero boyfriends, fucking seriously.
A few surprises are waiting for her though, in the form of Natasha actually giving her a hug ('I swear I won't let him forget this' she hisses in Darcy's ear), Wolverine waiting by the helicopter with a smirk ('They want someone not assigned to New York going along, sorry gals'), and perhaps best of all, Thor.
She'd been too distracted, to realize that the sky was clear today, a crisp, blue winter's day. Thor looks on the other side of drained, his usual bursting, amazing, optimistic energy barely even there. But he smiles at her, gathering Darcy up in what is probably the most gentle hug he's ever given her. "Be safe, Darcy. Come back in one piece." He murmurs, setting her down. Darcy bites her lip, almost unable to hold herself together, looking up at him. She takes his big hand, squeezing it tight.
"Tell him I love him," She whispers, and he wordlessly presses his other fist to his chest, swearing.
Darcy and Betty are quiet as they leave, and Logan seems to respect their silence. He doesn't even make a single comment, when Darcy touches the ring on her finger, finally triggering the breakdown that was threatening, burying her face in her hands and dissolving into sobs.
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