The next time Darcy sees Barnes, he doesn't look so broken, and she doesn't feel so broken.
She's managed to avoid him for an entire month, and mostly that wasn't even on purpose, she's just been so busy. Plus, since she's not an Avenger, she's got no business going to their common room, instead of the one used by the admin and lab staff. But at night, when everything's quiet, her head is anything but. She's planning for the future, for the pain to come, and plotting how to make the best of it.
He's been held captive by an evil organization and forced to do unspeakable things by them. He's a man trying to put his life back together and make amends for the things he's done. Darcy has read the reports, combed through the SHIELD files when they'd leaked online, had the safety briefing before she came to the new facility. He doesn't need the added complication of her. So she'll keep her distance and do her best to thwart destiny's plans.
He comes into her office with Steve to get some paperwork filled in. Normally they'd deal with Hill, but she's in DC. At least Darcy has forewarning; all of ten minutes to paste on her best professional smile and make it stick.
He's had a haircut, although the hair is still chin-length, but it's clean, and he's shaved recently. His clothes are casual, yet free of holes and frayed edges. His stance is still rigid, but he's lost some of that haunted tension from his eyes. He's well-fed and rested. Peace and quiet has done him good, as well as the extensive therapy Darcy knows he's receiving.
She shouldn't feel thankful that he's being taken of—he's nothing to her, not really (not yet)—but knowing what he could (will) mean to her has made her a little protective towards him. She's already added Helen Cho to her list of ducklings alongside Jane and Erik, might as well add him too.
"Morning, gentlemen," she says, handing Steve the wad of paperwork and a pen.
"Darcy," Steve greets her with a nod. "We haven't seen you around much."
"You know how I said I couldn't complain about what Stark was paying me? Apparently, I was wrong. I'm hoping things calm down soon, before I meet myself coming backwards."
"I could talk to him—" he replies with concern, but she waves him off.
"I'm joking. I'm good, just busy. Barnes," she acknowledges with a head dip. He's watching her calmly, waiting for Steve to finish flicking through the papers. She notes the length of his eyelashes and gives herself a mental kick.
Steve provides his autograph and disappears, but Barnes lingers. Darcy doesn't realize until she glances up from the computer screen half a minute later and startles.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"It's okay." She tries to paste her smile back on, like a protective shield, but she suspects she's showing a little too much teeth. She's worries that it'll come across like fear, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Can I help you?"
"I'd like to apologize for what I said to you when we were introduced. It was rude."
Ah. That's why Steve's made a subtle exit alone. "Did Steve put you up to this?" she asks gently. "I mean, I appreciate you doing so, but—"
"No. I realized after you left that I'd been rude. He knew I wanted to apologize though."
"It's fine. Apology accepted."
She thinks he'll leave, but he continues to linger, the seconds passing by.
"It was that word," he finally continues. "What Thor said. Asset," he manages, with a wince. "I don't like that word. It means…bad things to me."
"Oh." That's what he'd been known as for seventy years, of course the word has bad connotations for him. She makes a mental note to warn Thor about his choice of language in the future. "If you'd like, I can get that word phased out of our internal lingo."
He shakes his head. "That would be a lot of trouble to go to just because I don't like a word."
"Not at all. We've already made some changes to accommodate…other operatives." She skips over Wanda's name. It's personal information, after all. "We're trying to build a better organization here, and treating you like people is a big part of that."
For the first time, he smiles. It's hesitant, but it's a smile. "Then I'd appreciate it, if you can."
Darcy writes a post-it note to look up a synonym for asset, but he still doesn't leave. "Maybe you want to think about any other accommodations we can make for you," she offers. "I know Steve gave us a list before you arrived, but if there's anything else—"
"Did I upset you?" he asks. She stares at him blankly until he clarifies. "When you left that day, you seemed upset."
She pauses, enough for his face to ease its way into a frown, and that prompts her to answer him. "No," she replies, with a soft smile. "No, you didn't upset me."
"Oh. Good." He looks like he has more questions—let's face it, her behavior that day had been weird—but her answer seems to mollify him enough. "Bye, Darcy."
Finally, he's gone, and she can drop the smile. It wasn't too bad. She's glad he seems to be in a better place than he was. Getting better all the time, probably. If his soulmate is lucky, he'll be in a solid place by the time they meet, all shiny and in full working order.
Darcy has misgivings about what her role in this is going to be, almost a premonition. Like that stupid movie where Rachel McAdams helped her war hero soulmate heal from his PTSD, before he flounced off with Kristen Stewart.
Like the universe is taunting her, that movie is showing on Starz over the weekend. She only catches a few frames of it while she's channel surfing, but it gets her thinking.
The only real way to avoid any contact with Barnes is to leave. They're in relatively close quarters, and knowing that she's destined to fall in love with him just makes it inevitable that she'll allow herself to do so, every time they meet. But this is her home. This is where her friends are—she's already drifted out of touch with everyone from high school and college. Hell, she's been with Jane and Thor so long she can't imagine being with them, though she always knew it was inevitable she'd move on one day. That was why the move to being Hill's assistant was important. It's still an assistant's position, but not only is it better paid, it has more responsibility. She'll gain transferable skills to pad out her resume.
So she'll stick around. Gain those skills. And when the time is right, say in a year, she'll look for an internal transfer, a position in another city. She could even request to work more closely with Hill, in NYC or DC. It's understandable that Darcy would get bored of the rural location of this facility.
A year. She can absolutely limit the amount she falls in love with Barnes in a year. Sure, she's going to be tragically alone for the rest of her life when she leaves, but if this isn't a sign to concentrate on her career, what is?
The base is eerily quiet for a Friday morning, with none of the usual undercurrent of background noise. Darcy knows exactly why—she did half the planning for the mission the Avengers are currently away on. She'd be in the ops room now, making sure it went off without a hitch, except Pepper Potts has raised concerns about the number of hours Darcy's been working and mandated she take a few rest days. Pepper takes employee health very seriously. So Darcy has been relegated to the admin common room, since she's been banished from the labs too.
("Ms Potts has made it clear that taking care of Dr Foster is also considered work and not permitted," Friday had explained apologetically when her swipe card refused her access).
Since the Avengers are out kicking Hydra's ass, and the rest of the admin staff are being productive, Darcy is left with an empty kitchen to work in. She's got a kitchenette within her quarters, but the counter space is so limited it makes baking impractical. Today she's taking advantage of having the space to herself and all the equipment Stark Enterprises has provided. She's made a batch of honey and raisin flapjack—Thor's favorite—and is now working on whipping together cupcake mix. She's contemplating making two kinds: double chocolate, and vanilla with raspberry jam inside.
There's a noise from across the room. She only notices because of how quiet the space is compared to normal. When she turns her head, Barnes is in the doorway, watching her.
She freezes. Only for a second. Then she remembers it probably makes him anxious, probably makes him think that she's terrified of him, and it hurts her heart a little to think of it. So she forces herself to return to stirring the mix. It gives her a moment to collect herself before speaking.
"You okay?" she calls.
"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't want to sneak up on you. People don't like it."
She winces, but her hair hides her face from him. "I've kind of got used to it. Nat and Barton are constantly doing it to me. How come you aren't out with the others?"
He's reached the kitchen area and is staring down at the cooling flapjack. "I'm not ready for that yet. Soon, maybe, but…" He trails off with a shrug. "Thor told me you'd be around if I wanted company."
"Oh, okay." She glances down, letting her hair hide her expression from him again while she furiously mashes at a stubborn lump of butter. Thor knows about her situation and he is being infuriatingly positive about the whole thing. He thinks she should get to know Barnes and has apparently now taken to meddling.
Thor is not getting any flapjack.
"I hope you enjoy baking then," she continues, "because that's what I'm doing today." It's not like she can turn him away.
"Do I get to lick the bowl clean?" he asks, and when she glances over, he's got a twinkle in his eye. "That was my only involvement in baking when I was a kid."
She rolls her eyes at him, ignoring the flock of ravenous butterflies which have taken up residence in her belly. "Listen, baking is a life skill. We're going to make a man out of you today."
She talks him through the principals as they work: this ingredient is for binding the mix together, this makes it rise, you fold gently to stop the air being beaten out of the mix, you do not try and put icing sugar in the mixer unless you want a mushroom cloud to swallow the kitchen. She shows him how to make buttercream the old fashioned way, with a bowl and wooden spoon, and since his left arm doesn't tire at the motion, he ends up making all of it. She lets him work his way through the tray of flapjack in reward. Because fuck Thor.
This is too easy, the rhythm between the two of them: he relaxes into her presence—call me James—and listens to her attentively, watching as she shows him how to fill cupcake cases evenly. She coaxes him into telling her stories about helping his mother bake as a child, which mostly seem to involve him stealing the ingredients to snack on and getting a spanking for it.
"I made it up to her, eventually," he's saying as he watches her pipe the frosting onto the cupcakes. "Did extra shifts at the docks until I could afford to get her a big chocolate cake from the bakery for her birthday. She cried when I came home with it. Ma never really got anything for her birthdays, so it was worth it." He smiles at her, one of many he's gifted her with this afternoon.
And what a smile it is. She's never seen it at megabeam before, but the first time he unleashes it, she has to grip the counter to stop her knees buckling. She's pretty sure he knows it, too.
It's too hard not to watch when he licks the spoon clean of batter, staring at her unblinking through unfairly long lashes. It's too easy to retaliate by sucking her fingers clean of frosting. She understands, too, that for him this is new ground, that people are so on edge around him all the time, they forget to treat him like a human being with needs and a sense of humor. He's flexing new muscles, or maybe old muscles, slipping into the habits of the guy from the news reels. Flirting with him feels as natural as breathing.
Which is why she's so relieved when the Avengers swoop into the kitchen, alerted by Friday to the goodies awaiting them when they exited the Quinjet. Thor's the first to arrive, attempting to swoop Darcy into his arms, but she pushes him away.
"Dude, you need a shower. You've got blood on your clothes."
He grins, his good nature never faltering, even if his smile wavers when he sees the flapjack tray is empty except for crumbs.
She shrugs. "Sorry, James was hungry." Thor's eyes glimmer with delight when she calls him James, and she shoots him a look that has made lesser men cup their balls protectively.
He turns to James, who's exchanging a manly hug with a dirt-streaked Steve. "James! Did you keep fair Darcy company in our stead?"
"More like she put up with me annoying her," he replies, and Steve throws Darcy a smile of gratitude.
"It's nothing. He's a good student. One day he's going to be able to woo his soulmate with a mean brownie."
She doesn't even bother looking at Thor for his reaction that, but waves the Avengers off to their own common room, threatening to cut Barton off when he tries to sneak off with the stuff she kept back for the admin staff.
Thor seeks her later, when she's slumped on the sofa in her quarters with a straw in a bottle of wine. She contemplates ignoring him when she sees it's him on the other side of the door through the peephole, but she's got a piece of her mind to give him.
"You've got a nerve," she opens with. He slinks around her—an amazing skill for someone his size—and into her living room. He doesn't respond, but listens to her rant while he discards the straw and pours the wine into a glass. "I've made it perfectly clear what I think about the universe's plans for me. I do not need you aiding and abetting it! Do you want to see me suffer?"
He holds the wine glass out to her, and when she ignores it in favor of keeping her arms folded in annoyance, deposits it on the counter. "Not at all. I want nothing more than to see you happy. Yet you seem determined to avoid it, and by extension, him."
"That way happiness does not lie, okay? Why the hell would I open myself up to inevitable heartbreak?"
"You deserve love, and having seen the pair of you together, I believe he is capable of loving you very much. Why would I not want to facilitate that?"
"Because I'll lose him!" The words are shrill even around the tight knot in her throat. It seems she's started crying. Her next words are muffled by Thor's chest, which she's suddenly pressed against. "And then I'll be alone, and it's not fair. I'm not a masochist, okay, I'm just trying to exercise a little self-preservation here." Thor gives good hugs, whatever his faults. He's rubbing her back soothingly even as she creates a wet patch on the front of his t-shirt.
"You are bound and determined that this will end poorly for you," Thor murmured. "We do not know for definite what the future holds. His soulmate may have long passed already. Perhaps it's up to you to fill that absence."
She shakes her head. "Nat says the words are still black." Not the faded gray of a soulmate lost, or the soft silver of a soulmate found (like hers). "They're still out there."
Thor sighs and it blows over her scalp. "No matter where it ends, I believe you will be good for the Sergeant, and he good for you. But I will not interfere further. And I will be here for you should you face the sorrow you fear."
"Thanks, big guy." She's all cried out and feels minutely better for it. "I'll make you a fresh batch of flapjack tomorrow, 'kay?"
He stays to watch crappy TV with her, since Jane is pulling an all-nighter in the lab, and tucks her into bed when the wine makes her sleepy. Yet when he's left she finds herself staring at the ceiling in the darkness, re-examining her plans for the future.
A year suddenly feels a lot longer than it did before.