Author's Note – this grew too long for the flow of the story, so I split it into two chapters. Good thing I had the space!

"That's it," Darcy muttered before rising to her feet and glaring across the table. She braced her hands on the table, one corner of her mind admiring the ring glittering on her left hand. "I have had enough."

Hill looked a bit nonplussed, but Fury just raised an eyebrow at her. "Something you want to add, Miss Lewis?"

"Oh, you have no idea," she informed him before letting her eyes scan the table. Hill slipped back into her mostly stoic, slightly amused attitude while Fury continued to stare at her, irritation radiating in his eye. Sitwell's face held a muted glare that he forced into annoyed patience as her eyes narrowed on him. Her gaze moved to her fiancé. Amusement flickered deep within Phil's brown eyes even as he flicked an eyebrow at her in encouragement. Darcy's chin lifted as her eyes grew icy. "I do not want to hear one more word about Tony's immaturity, Clint's childishness, or the danger posed by Bruce and Bucky. I have my limit of petty jealousy from a wannabe handler who can't handle one genius for a day without having to run and tattle." Disdain practically rolled off of her as she directed a cool gaze at Sitwell once more. Fury opened his mouth and she held up a hand. Whether shock or sense held him quiet, she didn't know, but she intended to take advantage of it. Her gaze swung back to him. "I am also quite fed up with the chess game you seem to be playing with my team. From now on, all missions for any member of my team get cleared through my office – or they don't go."

Fury's eye narrowed. "They are only your team at the moment," he pointed out. "I can pull the agents at any point."

"If you're feeling cocky enough to try," Darcy folded her arms over her chest, "go for it." Speculation overtook his expression and one corner of her mouth twitched upward in amusement. "Pepper has an open contract ready to be signed should the need arise. Any one of them could walk out on you today and walk straight into a job at Stark Industries."

Sitwell's face reddened and he thrust his finger in her direction. "Tony Stark is a spoiled-"

"Don't you dare," Darcy interrupted, planting both hands on the table top and leaning forward as she practically snarled the words. He sat back in shocked surprise and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "You know what your problem is?" she asked him rhetorically. "You look at see these imperfect people playing dress up and saving the world as a holiday. You'd prefer they all do as they're told, save the world, and then shut up and sit down in their corner until you gave them permission to get up once more." Her gaze cut back to Fury. "You see chess pieces to be maneuvered by whatever means in order to get them to march to your fife and to play your game."

Fury leaned forward, folding his hands. "They need-"

"Ack!" She slammed her hand down on the table. "You all want to use them like a machine, a weapon you can point at your enemies and as soon as they've done their job, they go back in their little boxes and wait for you to call them up once more. Both of you piss me off."

"What do you see?" Hill's quiet voice entered the conversation.

Darcy's expression softened somewhat as she turned to the other woman. "They exasperate the hell out of you, but you've always been upfront and honest with them…never letting it become a personal attack," she noted with a nod. "How do I see them? As people," Darcy replied. "People with pasts that could make a saint cry and the toughest son of a bitch blanch." Her face became a sober, remote mask. "Let me tell you what I know."

"I know that Tony Stark can be one major pain in the ass," she said bluntly. "By the time you get through dealing with him, you usually find yourself reaching for something to hit him with. He gives absolutely everyone the image of a pampered, spoiled brat out to amuse himself." Then her hand came up to cut off any remarks. "On the other hand, I see a man who suffered neglect for a good portion of his life and fully expects to lose everything he's gained in the way of family and friends in the past few years because that is just how life goes in his experience. He's neurotic and needy and paints himself the jackass to hide his weakness. And yet," she continued, her eyes drilling into Sitwell's, "he goes out on every call. He suits up every time any one of us calls and he puts his life on the line again and again for this planet. He complains about the stupid things but never once complains about the wear and tear of being a hero."

Sitwell's lips thinned, but he said nothing, so she continued. "Let me tell you about Steve Rogers." Darcy heard Phil shift behind her. "You see a relic turned propaganda piece in order to give SHIELD a nice, comfortable face for the moms and pops around the country. You see a soldier, someone to bring out and parade for the masses, but then you expect him to drop back and stick with missions and training and being constantly on call as a set piece or a marketing tool." She gave a huff of annoyance. "I see a man who has had the courage to pick up the shards of a previous life and build something new instead of giving up. For us, his war and his time have been gone for three generations. For him? Everything ended three years ago. He's barely had time to grasp the truth of his situation and begin mourning those lost before you expected him to save the planet because SHIELD wanted to play with technology it didn't understand. Fortunately for us, Steve's got a sense of responsibility to go with the title of 'Captain America'."

"How about Bruce?" She rolled on, not even pausing this time. "How many people, including you, look at him and think 'ticking time bomb'?" Her voice practically growled the rhetorical question. "Never mind the genius scientist who always puts others first – here or in the third world. He gets hounded by the press and threatened by the imbecile Ross, but does anyone ever look at it from his side? No – people refer to him as monster and other less polite names. His work only gets accepted by a handful of universities while much less talented people are publishing right, left, and center. Heaven forbid anyone should give him a break." Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "There's Hulk too of course. Did anyone else bother to notice that Hulk did significantly less damage than his opponent when he, quote-unquote, broke Harlem? Did anyone notice Hulk caused fewer injuries?" A shiver of fury ran down her arms. "No, no one did. How about the fact that Hulk stays fairly calm until someone starts shooting at him? All he's ever known is fear and anger and hate. And we wonder why he's so uncontrolled? Who wouldn't be all for smashing things if everything and everyone was out to get us?"

She stopped and took a sip of water. "Want to talk about shitty backgrounds?" she asked, leaning on the table. "Let's look at Natasha – a woman who had every soft moment of childhood stolen from her as the Soviets turned her into their little perfect spy and assassin. Let's talk Bucky – a man whose entire life was systematically stripped away and ruined in order to become the perfect weapon." A tremor ran down her spine. "They should be running around the world making a living as soulless mercenaries or hit men. Instead? They are here – doing everything they can to protect what is innocent in this world. They are doing their level best with every damn bit of determination they can dig up to make sure no one else has to lose that core of innocence the world stole from them. They give and they give and they give, and all they ask in return is a little silence and a place they can rest without fear." Darcy lifted her hands in supplication. "Why is that so hard to see?"

"And Clint? Thor?" she asked next. "Clint's life has roller-coastered from decent to sucky more times than I can count. Loki mind-raped him, and instead of being given the benefit of the doubt, people still side-eye him every time he steps on board like they expect him to go off the deep end and start blowing shit up again. Instead of support he gets suspicion and instead of acceptance he gets blame. He might be SHIELD's sniper, but that's only because of the team. Without the team he would have taken off ages ago. Why should he stay? His fellow agents eye him with only slightly, and I mean slightly less anxiety than they do Bruce or Bucky." She scoffed. "Thor comes in just behind Clint because he's Loki's brother and not human, so obviously he has to be a figure of suspicion. He can't possibly be as good as he seems – no one is so altruistic as to protect a planet that's not their own after all. Oh, and should he have the gall to admit to missing his brother? Well, he must be some kind of insensitive jerk, mustn't he?"