Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SHIELD fell on a Wednesday.

Darcy Lewis had the terrible luck of being in the SHIELD building in New York when the agency, the world's bulwark against chaos, succumbed to the rot from within and crumbled down around them all.

Though, really, the timing of her small arms recertification couldn't have been better; she and Clint were in the range, near the armory, when the building went into lockdown and everything else went to hell.

When the alarms sounded, and a strange static hiss burst through the PA system, Darcy pulled her ear protectors off and cocked her head, confused at the sudden chaos. Turning to look at Clint, hoping for some explanation, she was shocked into a thick, dumbfounded haze -- more shocked than when a space tornado hit the ground in front of her SUV, or when alien elves tried to shoot her face off, or even the day her dad decided he was a superhero -- when Clint, without hesitation, pulled his side arm and aimed it at her.

She never even thought to bring up her own weapon, the cold surprise of the barrel of his gun overwhelmed her brain and she froze. Blinking stupidly, all she had time for was to wonder if this was Loki again, and then he fired.

The bang of the gun and the sharp clatter of the spent casing were dim, distant echoes through the numbness of her bewilderment.

A heavy weight hit her back, slamming her into the platform of the firing station, knocking the breath from her lungs. The weight continued to fall, hitting the back of her knees, and she would have tumbled over entirely if Clint hadn't caught her roughly by the collar and yanked her backwards towards him.

Once clear of whatever had caught on her feet, and after she'd taken a brief second to steady herself, she realized she'd been hit by the dead weight of the range master, a bloody hole through his throat and a pistol in his slack fingers.

"What--?" Darcy shook her head and tried to get the last three seconds to make some sort of sense.

"Puke later," Clint commanded roughly.

"You shot him."

"He was going to shoot you."

Darcy stared back down at the body. He must have been right behind her to have fallen against her like that, which meant Clint shot him right over her shoulder. She'd never even felt the other man approach. The pistol in his hand was a story all its own.

"I don't understand," she said, feeling both stupefied and shaky. She knew that guy. His name was Carl, she'd trained with him, she'd known him for months.

"I don't either," Clint admitted. "Reload."

And though it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, she stepped back over Carl's body to follow Clint's order. It took a few tries but she finally managed to get her trembling fingers to force new rounds into the pistol's magazine.

"Now what?" She asked Clint as she holstered her weapon.

Clint plucked the gun from Carl's limp grip and tucked it into the back of his pants. "We figure out--"

He was cut off by a message tone over the PA, and the static and signal cut out, replaced by a tense, breathless voice calling desperately, "Hydra infiltration. Scuttle systems. Evacuate. Repeat Hydra--" the voice broke off into burst of gunfire and a strangle scream.

It was so surreal Darcy almost laughed. Her very own "Imperial troops have entered the base" moment. But, it wasn't funny. There was a dead man at her feet and it sounded a lot like somebody else had died to get that warning out.

A new voice took over the PA, this one as cold as the other was desperate. "Our time is now. Hail Hydra."

"Shit," Clint spat viciously as he gave her a hard shove towards the armory.

"Hydra?" Darcy shook her head and stumbled forward. "I thought Steve stuck a fork in them seventy years ago."

"Obviously not. Hitting New York's ballsy, though. I bet we're not the only ones."

"Well, hell." Darcy collected herself and ran to the armory door, trying her code on the lock. When that didn't work, Clint shoved her aside and tried his own, but he didn't have any better luck.

"Have to blow it. I think I have a charge in my kit," he muttered, turning away.

"Of course you do." Darcy rolled her eyes and pulled a small leatherman from her pocket and started prying at the faceplate. "How about if we let the girl whose dad built the system give it a crack before we make a bigger noise and tell the uber-Nazis where we are?"

"Make it fast," Clint growled, stepping back over to her.

"Two seconds, and cripes, give me some space, dude," she murmured absently as she pulled wires and ignored sparks and tried to work around the lockdown. The red 'denied' turned to a blue 'accepted' and she let out a long breath.

"Me first," Clint told her. "Watch my back."

"Yeah," she agreed with a jerky nod, putting away her knife and pulling her pistol. Safety off, finger on the slide, muzzle down.

He paused before he shoved the door open. "Darcy, this is the real deal."

She swallowed heavily and cast a pointed look back at the body of the range master. "I've got it."

Clint followed her gaze and sighed. "Focus on your training."

"You know," she said, her tone deceptively light and conversational. "I was really just supposed to be a babysitter. I mean, Fury never said as much, but I'm not an idiot."

Clint cuffed her lightly on the arm. "Focus Lewis. On three. And don't shoot me in the back."

"Funny guy," she grumbled, trying to get as firm a grip on her pistol as her sweaty hands would allow.

Clint held up one finger, and she took a moment to steady herself. On the second finger he locked eyes with her and nodded. On three he shoved open the door and went in low. Darcy held a beat and began to follow him, only to be driven back by a burst of gunfire. Clint returned fire, three quick rounds, followed by three heavy thuds. She followed then, trying to stay low as he'd done, and as Natasha had trained her a thousand times.

Clint turned right, and she turned left. As she began her pivot, she saw a figure move. More instinct than thought, she fired. The hard jerk of the pistol and the thunder of the shot sent a surge of adrenaline and terror through her already overworked nervous system. The man fell with a scream, grabbing his leg, and Oh God, she'd just shot a guy.

Clint ghosted past her towards the fallen man, his pistol trained the whole way.

"You won't win," the man hissed through pain-clenched teeth. "Cut off one head, two--" Clint fired, and the man slumped backwards, silent.

"I shot a guy," Darcy said, feeling weird and distant from her own body.

"Yeah, and you hit him," Clint said as he moved back towards her. "I say you pass your recertification."

"What if he'd been a good guy? I mean, I just--"

Clint grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake so she'd look up at him. "He was moving to fire. I saw it, and so did you even if you don't realize it yet. Your instincts were good."

"Right."

"Keep it together, Lewis."

Licking her lips she managed a half nod. "Holding."

"Good," he said, squeezing her shoulders, trying to be comforting. "I need you; we can't trust anybody else."

"How the hell did this happen?" She asked, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

"Guess Cap missed a few," Clint suggested darkly. "Grab a vest and as many mags as you can comfortably carry. We're going to have to fight our way out."

Darcy closed her eyes and cast a heartfelt plea to the universe, "Ten years of Call of Duty, don't fail me now."

Clint barked a laugh and glanced over at her as he pulled a bow from the rack. "I feel like, as your SO, I should warn you this is real life and not a game, but I've seen you play. You're terrifying. So, hey, go with that."

Darcy forced a thin little laugh of her own as she pulled on the body armor and tried to adjust the straps. The vests really weren't made for girls with girls, but she did the best she could and made a mental note to ask her dad to do something about the design. "I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn Tony taught me to fight dirty."

"Well, this will be as dirty as it gets, Darce. Don't make me tell Stark something happened to you." Clint gave his own vest a tug and looked hers over before nodding.

"Do my best," she promised, feeling queasy.

"Can you get into the main systems from here? See if you can find anything out?" Clint jerked his head towards the computer desk at the armorer's station.

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that."

Relieved to have something to do that didn't involve shooting people or dying, she scrambled over to the work station and started prying her way into SHIELD's systems. Unfortunately, she didn't get far before she hit a wall. The weirdest computer wall she'd ever hit.

"How long do we have?" She called out to Clint who was busy sticking weapons in every pocket and holster he had and then adding a few more up his sleeves and down his boots.

"Not long," he called back. "They'd have wanted to secure the armory asap; assume they realize they've lost their team here."

Biting her lip, Darcy tried harder to get around the wall, but the strange digital fuzz, and that was the best way she could describe it, was surrounding everything. "There's some sort of interference," she told Clint.

"Can you get through it?"

"Uh, maybe? I don't know. But definitely not in the time that we have." She shoved up from the chair, giving the computer a dark glower. She hated admitting defeat, especially to something technical. It was ... it was anathema to her blood and her bones and her DNA.

Clint frowned down at the computer with her. "Tell me you ignored orders for the five hundredth time and you've got your phone."

"Oh!" The crazy madness of the last few ... minutes? Had it only been minutes? Anyway, she was blaming the crazy madness for the reason she'd forgotten her phone. Pulling it from her pocket, she growled when she failed to get a signal. "They're jamming." She swiped up for a keypad and started tapping desperately.

She nearly dropped the phone when a floor shaking explosion rattled them both. Clint caught her elbow and started her back towards the door to the range. "No time."

She let him pull her along, but kept her focus fixed on the phone. "Just a second."

"We don't have a second," Clint snarled over his shoulder, tense and fierce.

"Got it," she crowed and brought the phone up to her ear.

"Talk and run."

Jogging after him, pistol in one hand, phone in the other, she quietly begged her father to pick up the phone.

"Stark."

"Dad! Listen--"

"Are you running?"

"Hydra's infiltrated SHIELD." And because, when said out loud, that sounded so completely ridiculous, she hurried to add, "No joke. Clint and I are trying to get out, but ..."

"On my way," Tony replied, and she could hear him moving, hear Jarvis in the background.

"'Kay." She hesitated a moment; she should hang up, let him go, but ... "Dad, I love you."

"I love you, too, kid. Five minutes."

Darcy dropped her phone back into her pocket and swallowed back a rising, burning swell of nausea. "Iron Man incoming. ETA, five minutes," she reported to Clint.

"Good." They skidded to a halt beside the door to the corridor beyond.

"And all those lectures about cell phones not being allowed. Ha!" She forced a smile up at him, trying for smug, but probably just looking like she was going to hurl.

Clint huffed a laugh. "I want it noted I've never lectured you about it."

"That's true," she agreed. "Neither has Natasha."

"No. Never give up an advantage." He snorted bitterly. "People say we're too paranoid. Yeah? Shit like this happens."

"Oh, consider this object lesson well and truly learned," Darcy assured him seriously.

Clint tested the draw on his bow and pulled out an arrow, nocking it. Once he was satisfied with his weapon he turned to Darcy. "You learned the layout like I told you to, right?"

Darcy nodded. "Yeah."

"Stay low and close to the walls," he directed. "If we get separated, do what you have to do to get the hell out. Don't go looking for me."

She nodded again and shifted her weight, shakiness overtaking her again. "Yeah."

"Darce," he prompted, a hard edge to his voice.

"Copy, Hawkeye."

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to see if she was being a smartass or not. She wasn't. She was very deadly serious, because ... God. Hydra. This was unreal.

"Alright," he said at last. "Follow me tight."

And then they were out into the hall. Into the chaos. Into smoke and gunfire and screams.

While this was, indeed, nothing like a video game -- and Darcy was never stupid enough to think it might be, and the guys shooting at her were trying to actually kill her dead for real -- back when she'd actually had time to play, she'd been a fairly badass gamer, and it was with some surprise that she realized some of those instincts were kicking in. Instincts bolstered, of course, by more than a year of training with Clint and Natasha, but, still, she knew how to seek cover, knew how to keep the threat in front of her, knew how to see the field in a way that she didn't think came entirely from Natasha's frankly bizarre version of Hogan's Alley.

It felt like it took an hour to work their way down the hallway, but, Darcy discovered that when people were shooting at you, everything sped up and slowed down, and time warped and twisted far beyond her mind's ability to keep hold of. In reality it probably only took them a couple of minutes.

Clint led her past the stairs, insisting they were a death trap, and he was planning to have them scale the elevator shaft. Because his was a world, and this was a day, where that was the safe option.

He tried to pry the doors open with the edge of his bow while Darcy watched behind them. When his bow slipped and his knuckles rapped loudly on the door, he swore viciously and started attacking the door in ernest.

"Wait," Darcy called. In the few non-warped seconds she'd had to think and breathe, she ran the building's plans through her mind, searching desperately through her memory for alternate routes and fall-back positions. During a quick, and probably scatter-shot, mental tour of each floor, she found exactly what she was looking for. And grimaced at herself -- when she'd seen the plans the first time, she'd laughed at what she'd assumed was over-the-top Cold War paranoia.

"We don't have time," Clint grunted.

"No, no," she backed up to him and grabbed his arm. "I have an idea."

Tugging him after her, she ran to the stairwell, ignoring his grumble of protest. There was another explosion, and a great cloud of smoke and shouts of 'Hail Hydra' rolled towards them.

Clint laughed, a strangely grim, yet gleeful sound. "Well, at least they're not shy about letting us know who they are."

Darcy ignored him and stuck her head through the door to the stairwell only enough to determine the floor was clear, and then she darted through and down the stairs.

"Down is not out," Clint said, his boots clattering heavily behind her.

"Down is out. I hope. Trust me."

"I'm following you, aren't I?"

"I guess so."

She led him down two floors, and went for the door when he stopped her. "Where are we going?"

"My grandfather built this building--"

He squinted at her and asked skeptically, "And you inherited magical building whisperer powers?"

Darcy scowled at him. "No. But, when you told me to learn the layout, Jarvis had the original building plans. I learned them, too. There's another way out."

Clint nodded. "Okay, which way?"

Darcy closed her eyes, thinking through the blueprints again. "Right and then second left."

"You're sure?"

"Well, I mean, the building's been remodeled in the last fifty years, but, hey, fingers crossed."

Clint accepted that easily enough and eased towards the door. "Me first," he said again. Meeting no resistance in the hallway, he called back to her, "Come on."

They were in the fourth sub-level, which actually made it six floors below the lobby. The floor was mostly records -- paper records -- and some storage and a block of temporary bunks Darcy didn't think had seen much use in the last decade. Hopefully it was low on Hydra's priority list.

They ran silently through empty corridors. Anybody unfortunate enough to be posted down here had probably already evacuated or moved up to take on the fight on the upper floors.

The hallway Darcy remembered from the plans was a long, empty corridor, broken only by one door. Dashing over to the door, she didn't even bother trying her code and skipped right to prying off the security panel, working to override.

"You're disturbingly good at that," Clint observed, voice mild. "I don't think I taught you that. Natasha?"

Darcy laughed as they darted into the dark room, lit only by the thin glow of the emergency lights on the fringes of the space. "No, my dad, actually. He doesn't trust SHIELD and when I joined up, he made sure I could override ... well, everything."

"Should have known. Okay, where next?"

Darcy waved a hand at the vast, gloomy room. "Far wall. About halfway, I think."

Clint nodded and jogged off into what was probably better called a warehouse than something as simple and confining as a room. A vast, black space that seemed to swallow any sound of their passage, its thick air, heavy with the wet musty dust of old paper and tang of rotting equipment stacked on row after row and aisle after aisle of metal shelves and filing cabinets. This was clearly where secrets went to die.

Once at the back wall, they jogged down along the length, lined by rows of heavy metal cabinets. Making it to what Clint determined was the halfway point, he stopped and looked at her. "Now what?"

"Give me a second," Darcy told him breathlessly.

"You keep saying that," he grumbled, tapping the tip of his bow impatiently on the floor.

"And I keep winning at life. Shut up, Barton." She pressed a hand to her temple and tried to call the blueprints to mind one last time. After her second, she opened her eyes and pointed to her right. "Okay, you start here, and go that way, and I'll take the other side. We're looking for a door. It'll be hidden in some way, but I don't know exactly how. I'm hoping we can find a seam or something else that screams 'door!'."

"A hidden door. Of course," Clint snorted, but slipped his bow across his body and stepped up to the first set of cabinets, trying to pull them back enough to look behind.

"It's a super secret government facility built during the cold war. Are you really surprised?" Darcy asked, starting on her own cabinet.

"Where does the door go?"

"Tunnel to another tunnel to a subway tunnel," Darcy told him, hissing a little when her thumb caught in a drawer of the cabinet she was trying to look behind. Well, at least SHIELD insisted she be up to date with her tetanus boosters.

"I will raise a glass to Howard's paranoia when we get out of here," Clint promised solemnly.

"I will raise all the glasses," Darcy agreed.

They worked in silence for a few minutes after that. A few minutes where Darcy felt her own desperation grow with the eye-strain of looking for who-only-knew-what in the half light.

"Here," Clint called softly.

Letting out a long, relieved breath, she ran over to him and helped shift a cabinet back and out of the way. The door was about half-sized, a metal plate painted to look like electrical access. They spent another minute or so prying it open, and its hinges, unused for half a century, shrieked in protest. Once open, they both rocked back on their heels, slapped away by a wall of cold, wet air rank with mildew and stagnation.

Clint took a penlight from his vest and stuck it in his teeth, then stuck his head through the black opening. When he sat back, he smiled at her and pulled the light from his mouth. "I'm putting a gold star in your file for your above and beyond thoroughness at following orders."

"Go me," she said with an absent shrug. Today didn't really feel like a day where she cared over much about her file. Not even enough to appreciate his attempt at humor.

He laughed anyway. "I'll go first. If it hasn't been used in fifty years, it might be dicey."

"This is me not stopping you." When he didn't move right away she frowned at him. "What?"

"Stark's going to be tearing the place apart looking for you," he said, giving her a considering look.

"Well, that'll keep Hydra busy," she said, biting into some savage satisfaction at that thought. "And, if we can't get the building back, knowing how much he loves him some property damage, he'll go a long way towards making this place unusable for them."

"True."

But Clint continued to hesitate and she sighed. "I'll call him when we hit the subway, if I can get a signal."

"Is Banner in town? Wasn't he coming in today?"

"Hey, double the fun for Hydra."

He grunted his agreement and stuck the light back in his teeth and finally started his crawl into the tunnel. There wasn't enough room to stand, but they could walk along in a low crouch.

"Are you feeling left out?" Darcy asked.

"What?" Clint mumbled around the flashlight.

"I mean, two of the Avengers are up there, probably right now, and you're stuck in a muddy tunnel leading me out."

"I think you're the one who pointed the way," Clint told her, words slurring.

"You know what I mean."

"Priorities," he said easily and finally took the light out of his mouth. "You first, then I'll come back and catch up with Stark and Banner."

"Okay."

"I think there'll be enough for me when I get back," he snorted.

She didn't want to ask the question, her own brain had started to paint a horrible picture already, but she had to. "How bad do you think this really is?"

"Bad."

"Thanks for the insight," she said, voice tight.

"I've known Carl for six years, Darce," Clint told her quietly. "He turned on us without a second thought. Every single one of those people shooting at us was a SHIELD agent. Hydra didn't invade, they've been here for ... fuck, who knows how long."

"Long game," she said quietly.

"Yeah. This is very bad. We need to get out and regroup with the, you know, four people we trust completely."

"How do we know though?" She asked just a touch desperately, feeling overwhelmed by events she didn't even have a real sense of yet. "If they've been here all along. If --"

"Well," he said cutting her off. "It's a safe bet you're not Hydra."

She nodded and played along with him. "And you didn't try to sell me to them, so ..."

"That's one each. If Natasha's dirty ... Jesus, I can't even imagine." Maybe it was just Darcy's own fear and panic, but she thought his voice shook. "I should just stand there and let her shoot me if I've been played this long."

She didn't really have anything to say to that. She'd never managed to get a solid grasp on their relationship. Partners was probably the best term, the only one that could hope to encompass the complexity of their ... whatever.

"Fury for sure," she said quickly but felt a burst of doubt. "Right?"

"Yeah. Do you think they'd have waited this long if he was in charge of Hydra? Fuck, do you think they'd be this blatant if he was?" Clint laughed, rusty in the stifling dank. "Hill, too. She's Fury's through and through."

"Okay. And Steve."

"So, I was off -- we've got five whole people," he snorted, sounding too amused when facing that reality.

"How can we possibly lose?" Darcy said with a thin laugh.

"Nat and Cap are in DC. So is Fury. Hydra probably hit that hard," Clint mused.

"God," Darcy breathed out and bit her lip. "I feel like ..." she trailed off.

"What?"

"We just went to war, didn't we?"

"Yes," Clint confirmed bluntly.

"I'm getting a very apocalypse vibe," Darcy muttered. The New York base was falling on top of them. She didn't know what was happening in DC or anywhere else; it colored every one of her thoughts with a strange feeling of both chaos and blindness. Things spinning out of control. And if Hydra really did hit DC, too, then ... then was there anywhere safe? Anywhere they could regroup?

They reached the second tunnel, larger than the first, and when they stood, Clint caught her arm.

"If Hydra takes control, the world is fucked," he said. "But there were agents fighting back. We're not alone. And we can't walk away."

"I didn't say I was going to," she ground out, raising her chin stubbornly. She could be freaked out, okay? She could be freaked out and still not back down.

"I know," Clint said firmly. "I just also know this is big. This is bigger than anything I've ever seen."

"You're super comforting, Barton," she snorted.

"Cowboy up, Lewis," he told her with a crooked grin.

"Hey, I've got a family legacy of kicking these assholes in the teeth to live up to." With a sigh she leaned back against the dirt-caked wall. "When Coulson recruited me, he told me he needed me to save the world. I just didn't think he meant, you know, literally."

Clint dropped back to lean next to her. "Would you have said no if you did?"

"I told him no like a hundred times."

"But you signed on anyway."

Darcy choked on a tired laugh. "Turns out I like you jokers, and he knew it."

"Phil was always good at knowing what buttons to push," he muttered, and eased himself off the wall, starting the long walk down the tunnel again.

Darcy pursed her lips and followed after him. He didn't like talking about Coulson. He blamed himself too much for the other agent's death. And it was all tied in to the mental scars he still bore from Loki's control. Still, maybe it was time. It was the end of the world. Sort of.

She made a silent apology to Phil, and then tossed him a silent curse, because, seriously, what had taken him so long? Then she spoke up and broke her own personal rule about secrets that weren't hers and the telling of them.

"There's a sixth person we can trust."

"Stark, Banner, and Thor. I make eight," Clint said, not looking back at her.

"So pedantic. But, I meant at SHIELD."

"There's nobody else I trust this much," he assured her shortly.

"Phil."

"Darcy," he sighed.

"He's still alive."

He stopped in front of her, his entire body going rigid. "Are you speaking metaphorically? Like, he's with us in spirit?"

"No. Like he's with us in the flesh. Well, not right here right now, obviously. But, he's got a team out there ... somewhere. Or he did. God, did Hydra hit them, too?" Swallowing heavily she shuddered at the thought. Chaos and blindness. The fog of war; she finally, really understood what that meant.

Clint turned abruptly and took a step towards her, crowding her against the wall. "Explain. Explain how you knew this and never told me."

Her back scraped against the rough concrete and she was faced with a furious sniper and that was almost more terrifying than when Hydra was shooting at her. "He ... God, it wasn't my secret to tell. He wanted to tell you himself, I don't know why he's waited so long."

"And you decided to wait until now to pop off?"

He was scaring her, but she was no shrinking violet and found her temper flaring to match his own. "Well, seeing as I had a whole hand left over after the 'who's not a scumbag' headcount, I thought, yeah, now was the time to consider everybody we could trust."

"How do you know he's alive? Explain this to me," he demanded again.

"He broke into my apartment one night. Like, a couple months before that whole thing with the Mandarin. That's when I finally said yes to SHIELD."

"And?"

"And what? He came back when the house blew up and my dad was presumed dead. And ..." she stopped and sighed, if he wasn't pissed now, he was about to go ballistic. "I've met his team. After London, Fury sent me to do a systems check on their plane. And, well, he calls every now and then. Though, I haven't heard from him in a couple months."

Clint's teeth were clenched tightly enough she could swear she heard the grinding. The muscles in his jaw were bunched and jumping, and his breathing was harsh in the narrow space.

"Who else knows?" He forced the words through barely restrained anger.

"Fury, obviously. Hill, too, I think. She gave me the 'shut up and don't say anything' look when I handed her my paperwork." She bit her lip and looked away from him down into the inky blackness of the tunnel beyond, wondering if she should tell him the last name on her list.

"And?"

"Nobody else, as far as I know," she lied and hated it. "I mean, I'm sure some other people at SHIELD know, and his team, but--"

"You're lying. Who else, Darcy?"

What would this do to the team? They were all big boys, they could deal with their own issues, but did they have time for that? God, this was all so, so bad.

"Now is not the time," she said at last.

"Now is exactly the time," Clint exclaimed, exasperated. "Jesus, Darcy, how many fucking secrets do you have?"

"You know what? Screw you," she spat at him, furious, because, hello to the damned hypocrisy. "How many do you have?"

"I know things that are classified," he said with a humorless, gritty laugh. "But, you keep secrets like it's a God damned Olympic sport."

"Oh, sure, yeah, this is totally a good time for me," she shot back. "Watching you beat yourself up about Phil's death and not being able to say a thing? Super awesome."

"So why didn't you?" He pressed.

"Because he asked me not to," she shouted, her temper breaking fully through at last. "He kept my secret. He never even told Fury. How could I do anything less than the same for him? How could I let him down?" Her voice broke and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry, but damn it, Clint, I would keep your secrets, too, and, yeah, I'd hate the lies, but I wouldn't regret it, because it's a trust," she punctuated the last three words with hard slaps to his chest. "And I know what trust means. Do you know how many people know who my dad is? Spoiler alert: not many. But you do. Take it to the tabloids, pal. You'd make a mint, retire in style. Go ahead, I won't stop you."

Clint took a step back as her temper spilled over. "I wouldn't do that," he said, sounding suddenly subdued, but then his face hardened again, all sharp lines and deep shadows in the feeble light. "Wait a second, how did this become about me?"

Darcy clapped a hand on her mouth and then waved both arms at him. "How are you this frustrating?" She exclaimed. "I get that this sucks for you, and I can't actually imagine how much. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can promise you I'd never keep a secret that was actually, you know, dangerous or whatever, to you or anybody else."

"It's not like I'd ever know, though, would I?" His voice was snide, his body so rigid her own bones ached to look at him. "So tell me, how do I trust you?"

Darcy closed her eyes and set her jaw. "Do you trust Phil?"

"I used to."

"Oh my God," she hissed. "Get over the butthurt."

He let out a sound, a strangled snarl of anger and hurt and God only knew what else, and stepped back to her, crowding her once more. "Who else knows?"

Putting her hands on his chest, she gave him a good hard shove. "Back off, Barton."

"Tell me."

"Do you really want to know? Because I don't think you do. I think you want somebody else to be mad at. Just stick with being pissed at me."

"I want to know who's been lying to my face."

"I am not a liar," she snarled back.

"You lied about this."

"Holy ..." she nearly choked on the frustration and the extreme madness of this whole argument. "I'm just trying to keep a bad situation from getting worse."

He fell silent for a moment, the sudden quiet making her ears ring, before finally he laughed, thin and bitter. "You sound like Fury. Lock every damned thing down, only you get to decide who knows what."

Darcy could not have been more surprised if he'd slapped her. She might have actually preferred that. "That's not true," she told him weakly.

He'd stepped away from her again, pacing up and down the tunnel, just a couple of steps at a time, but his body language was several levels beyond agitated. "I'd wondered why Fury was down with you being our liaison. A green rookie? Really? I figured it was mostly a sop to Stark -- keep him happy, keep an eye on you."

Her head was still spinning from Clint's accusation. Her dad hated the games Fury played -- the half-truths, the carefully managed intel that never told a tenth of the story, the endless hidden agendas. God, she didn't do that, did she?

"But, I think I see now," Clint continued. "You're too good at keeping secrets. Fury's using you to keep us in line, isn't he? And God knows we wouldn't suspect it for a second. Hey, you're the rook, Stark's kid, the smartass, the mouthy, flighty co-ed who pals around with an astrophysicist. We'd all think we had you figured. Sure, why not train the kid? Made sense to me. Natasha'd already started giving you self-defense lessons, so I'd teach you to shoot. Steve was teaching you strategy, because you're always so damned curious, aren't you?"

"Clint--" The words died in her throat when he turned his hard gaze back on her.

"We trained our own watcher," he said with a growl. "The whole time you've been Fury's little ace-in-the-hole with the Avengers, somebody he knows can lock everything down, break the truth into tiny pieces -- for our own good, of course. And we'd trust everything you told us." He stared hard at her, and his lips turned up into something almost cruel. "Here's the question, Darce -- Do you even know you're Fury's right hand?"

Darcy pulled off her glasses and pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. It took several deep breaths before she felt pulled together enough to answer.

"Listen to yourself, Clint. Holy shit, listen to yourself. Hydra has infiltrated SHIELD, and suddenly Fury and I are the bad guys? Because Phil asked me to keep his secret?" Laughing a little hysterically, she scrubbed her hands over her face.

"This is surreal," she said, feeling more bewildered than she could successfully cope with. "This is so freaking surreal. When I was a kid, my grandpa Jim gave me a Captain America book -- and this was before I knew Howard was my grandfather -- and my brother and I used to fight Hydra in our backyard. They were history, they were cartoon villains, but, oh my God, Clint, they tried to kill me today. And I shot a guy," she shouted, waving a hand helplessly in the air, before dragging it through her messy hair.

"I shot a guy," she repeated after a deep breath, "and there is a building above us that's falling down right now. SHIELD is under attack and suddenly I'm Fury Jr. I can't take this. Holy mother of God, I can't deal with this."

Shoving her glasses back on, she stalked away from him, making her way carefully down the pitch black tunnel. Clint had the only light and he wasn't moving, but she was damned if she was going to stand there and take it while he decided she was the bad guy in this movie.

Irate and feeling adrift, it never occurred to her to pull out her phone to light the way. The second time she tripped over something, she let out a string of frustrated curses and kicked the wall with a sob she couldn't hold back however much she wanted to.

Clint's hand caught her elbow again and he steadied her, his light pushing back the gloom as he joined her. "Just ... please, Darcy. Who else? Natasha?"

"Steve," she said, weary of the whole thing. They could duke it out themselves. She was so done. "I told you how Phil came to see me after Tony went missing. Well, Steve came to check on me, too. If it makes you feel any better, Steve was royally pissed."

"Not really."

She shrugged. "Fine, but let this point sink in, if you can. We did it for Phil, because he asked. It's as simple as that. And now you know all my secrets."

"Right," he said flatly, sounding as though he wasn't buying that, but she found herself not really caring.

Giving him a dark side-eye, and with a heavy dose of sarcasm, she asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Can I stop you?" Clint snarked back.

"I know a lot of people, but how is it you're the only one that can send me from zen to full throttle -- as in, I am fully prepared to throttle you," she curled her hands and shook them in the air, a little like how she'd like to shake Clint, "in like three nanoseconds? Seriously? That's including my dad."

He snorted humorlessly. "Back at ya, Darce."

They walked in silence for a while longer before Clint spoke up again.

"I never saw you," he said simply, like it was an explanation for everything.

Still feeling bruised from his earlier accusation and their argument, she was maybe a little more aggressive than she meant to be when she demanded, "What's that mean?"

"It means, I watched you in New Mexico--"

"Stalked from the rooftops," she corrected automatically.

He ignored her. "-- and I never saw you. Even after Coulson waved me off, I couldn't put it together. It bugged me."

"Why would you have, though?" She asked with a frown, prickly defensiveness giving way to puzzlement.

"See? That's the thing," Clint exclaimed, waving a frustrated hand at her. "You say that like it's no big deal, that I didn't clock you as somebody Coulson and Fury would want to keep an eye on. You don't understand. I watch people, Darcy. I'm patient and I wait and I watch and I learn them and I never saw you."

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Darcy took a few more steps before replying. "I don't know what to say to that. I mean, do you want me to apologize for not being whatever you thought I was? 'Cause I'm pretty sure Jane would agree with the flighty co-ed assessment. So, maybe you weren't as far off as you think."

That forced a quiet, if somewhat weak, chuckle from him.

Darcy sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Maybe you saw plenty, but just didn't see it all together until we actually met. Or, hell, maybe there's not as much to see as you think there should be."

He didn't respond to that and they kept walking, finally making it to the large, rusty bulkhead door. After a couple more minutes they managed to pry that door open, too. It opened out into a concrete, newer looking, much shorter tunnel, properly lit by a wire-caged industrial light. From there it maybe thirty feet to another heavy door, and, if the plans were right, the subway tunnel. Next challenge, don't get smeared across the tracks by a train.

How long had they been down here, anyway? Iron Man and Hulk had probably already leveled the building. Poor Clint, he'd missed all the fun.

"Look, be as pissed at me as you want," Darcy said as they left the ancient cold war tunnel. "I get it. But, maybe we should deal with the fact that Hydra's back and the world's about to go to hell first? That's the only reason I didn't want to tell you about Steve. Now's just a crappy time for you two to get into a thing. Yes, we didn't tell you, but it was about making a promise to Phil, and not about wanting to screw you over."

"I'll table it for now," he said quietly.

She let out a relieved breath. "Thank you."

"Anything else you want to tell me that'll piss me off? Now that I'm agreeing to be peaceable about this for the moment."

"No, you've got the big ones. My dad's Tony, Phil's not dead, that's it." She paused and hummed under her breath. "Well, there is this one thing."

He let out a strangled moan. "Fuck, Darcy."

"No, it's not ..." she rushed to reassure him but stumbled to a stop, because, well, it was kind of something that would tick him off, but probably in more of a general way and less of a emotionally traumatizing way. "I mean, okay, here's the thing. I broke into your apartment last week. You were out of town. I was hiding from Jane."

"You couldn't hide somewhere else?" He asked, sounding more resigned than pissed. It wasn't her first uninvited visit to his place, after all. She'd felt bad about that at one point, but then, well ... he was out of town a lot, and sometimes a girl just needed to get the hell away.

"Well, Jarvis narcs me out at the tower, and you've got a really comfy couch and an awesome TV."

"You bought the TV."

"You didn't have one. And, technically, my dad's AmEx bought the TV."

Clint groaned and shook his head. "Hey, wait, you! You drank my last two beers. Damn it, I blamed Natasha for that."

She gave him a look that she hoped said, loudly, 'how are you that dumb'. "You know her feelings about beer, she'd never drink that."

He glowered at her and his lip curled up at one edge. "Well, you could have replaced it."

"I meant to. I totally did, I swear, but then my dad called and said he was bored and Bruce was still out of town, and that's a red alert situation. So, you know, sorry, I'll make it up to you."

"I'll hold you to that." They got the door to the subway opened and took stock of the new environment. "We're probably not far from the platform," Clint said.

"Is this an active tunnel?" Darcy honestly couldn't tell. It was as dark as anywhere else.

"I think so," he murmured. "There's a walkway on the other side. We'll make a run for it."

Darcy stared uneasily down into the black beneath their feet. "And hope the CHUDS don't get us."

"Jesus, Darcy," Clint laughed a little helplessly.

Once they safely made the maintenance walkway on the other side, they paused to listen for trains.

"Phil's really alive?" Clint asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"He's not like some weird robot or clone?"

"I don't think so," Darcy said, but she understood the disbelief. She'd gone through that list of 'what is this thing before me' when he'd returned from the dead and turned up in her apartment.

"He seems Phil-like to me," she continued after a moment of thought. "Of course, the two times I asked the Director about it, he threw me out of his office. Man, the second time, Fury called in security and had them escort me out of the building. That's when he banned me from the Triskelion. The frog-march of shame across the bridge was not awesome." She set her jaw, irritated at the memory. He could have just told her to get lost. That had worked the first time, after all. She supposed he just had to make the big, giant, jackass point. Message received, sir.

"So, now you know what that was all about," she continued bitterly. "Oh, I guess that was kind of a secret I had, but it was ancillary to another, so does it count as a whole separate one?"

Clint's lips were pressed together firmly and he shook his head. It took her a second to realize he wasn't mad, but was instead trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry I accused you of being Fury's right hand, when you are clearly his karma."

"I ... I can't tell if I should be insulted by that or not." She frowned at him and decided to let it go. For now. "Okay, so, anyway, we know Fury is totes hiding something, but Phil got all distant and sad puppy eyes when I tried to subtly bring it up with him, and I cannot take the puppy eyes. I just can't do it."

"I've noticed," he told her with an obnoxiously smug smirk.

"I know you have," she groused sourly. "You need to stop pulling that crap; I have to leave the room every time you do it."

"Your Achilles' heel," he shook his head, clearly continuing to be desperately disappointed by her life in general. "What will you do when a narco-terrorist tries that?"

Scrunching up her nose, she stared back at him, incredulously. She might be bad, but she wasn't that bad. Maybe. "Uh, remember he's a narco-terrorist, I hope."

"Uh-huh," he grunted, unconvinced but dropping the subject as they worked their way along the narrow, concrete walkway. There wasn't a lot of room if a train came by. Though, hopefully, MTA would have recognized the, you know, madness near this stop and diverted the trains.

"I'm still pissed," Clint said after a moment.

"Okay. I don't know what you want me to do," she told him honestly.

"Just ... I'm just letting you know."

Sighing, she nodded and accepted his totally understandable anger. A promise to Phil was the main reason she never told Clint, but knowing it would hurt him was solidly second on the list. "Yeah, alright."

When the light from the subway platform hit them, he gave her a long look and a fortifying thump on the shoulder. "Hydra first."

She nodded back and prepared herself. "Hydra first."

Chapter Text

After the fraught flight through the Cold War tunnels, and the relief of spotting the subway platform, Darcy thought they'd really made it to the home stretch. But once they gained the platform, and she and Clint began to force their way through the gathered crowds, there was a definite, noticeable, horrifying moment where things might have gone seriously sideways.

People were nervous, agitated, taking shelter, yet again, from another threat to the city. Though, there was an overall calm -- this was not their first rodeo after all --and Darcy found herself unaccountably proud of them.

These people -- this is why she'd agreed to join SHIELD. To protect these people. It was something of a revelation for Darcy; she'd thought the main reason was to help her dad, and Jane and Thor and, eventually the others, but seeing these people now, nervous but calm, helping each other, trying to make it through another shit storm ... for these people she'd do it, because somehow, someway, she found herself in the position where she could help them, protect them. To walk away from that felt profoundly wrong.

But, still, two armed strangers suddenly appearing out of the black tunnels, and everybody got even a little more tense, a little more ready to do violence. The crowd tightened up, sheltering the vulnerable, hissed voices took on an angry edge, and sobs broke through the low din. The thin line of police officers at the station's entrance shifted anxiously as they peered ahead, trying to see what had turned an otherwise relatively calm mood to dangerously humming tension.

Clint pulled his badge and stuck it in a pocket on his vest so the SHIELD was clearly visible on his chest, then he jerked his chin at Darcy to do the same. She fumbled for a moment, her own anxiety and nerves making her fingers trip up on themselves, before she managed to follow suit.

The mood shifted again, anxiety dialing back to watchfulness. People cleared a path for the two of them quickly enough, still wary, though even that bled away as each group they passed caught sight of the uniforms, familiar as some sort of law enforcement even if they didn't exactly know what or who SHIELD was, and Clint's bow caused an excited stir that rippled out into the crowd. And finally the edge of hovering violence turned completely. Darcy let out a long, relieved sigh, as mistrustful looks turned into pats on the back, and nervous mutters turned to shouted questions.

Clint ignored it, but Darcy lagged a little behind and tried to answer the questions where she could, but all that really amounted to was saying, 'I don't know' and 'you know what? Take the rest of the day off and go home. Catch a movie maybe.'

When she caught up to Clint he was talking to the police sergeant in charge.

"Got a call about explosions in the building. We showed up, it was all hell breaking loose," the sergeant told him, rubbing a hand over his face, like he was trying to wash away the memory. "We've been evacuating the surrounding buildings, getting people off the streets, into shelter, you know."

"Trains running?" Clint asked, glancing up the stairs behind them as a new group of people clattered down, followed by two more cops.

"Yeah. MTA's cleared the lines for six blocks, they're gonna divert some trains down here to move these people out." He narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin at Clint. "You think it's gonna come down here?"

"Nah," Clint shook his head. "Besides, Iron Man and Hulk are on their way, if they're not there already."

A woman in a sharp, but now wrinkled business suit, with a thin cut on her cheek, paused next to them only long enough to say, "I saw Iron Man. He's here. Thank God."

Clint shot a look at Darcy, then nodded his thanks to the woman, who gave him a smile that might have been mostly relieved and maybe a little bit queasy, before being pulled away by a woman in nurse's scrubs.

"I don't know," the sergeant muttered. "I know he helped save the city and all when those Chitauri showed up, but, jeezum, that Hulk gives me the creeps."

"He scares himself more than he scares anybody else," Darcy offered. Plenty of people didn't get it, but she didn't care -- Bruce was her dad's science bro; she'd defend him to the ends of the Earth. "You know, for whatever that's worth."

He looked startled that she'd spoken, then narrowed his eyes, skeptical and a little annoyed. "He scares people pretty bad. I got a buddy at a precinct in Harlem. The stories he told --"

"Like I said," she cut him off with a shrug.

Clint tapped his bow impatiently against his leg and tugged at his quiver, adjusting it. "You good here?"

The sergeant looked over at his officers and nodded. "Yeah, we'll hold. Go do your thing."

"Right." Clint grabbed Darcy's shoulder and gave her a little shove towards the exit. "Call Stark before he tears the place apart." Then he let go and took the stairs at a run, two at a time.

Before she'd gone up more than a handful of stairs her phone came to life in a vibrating flurry of strangled chimes -- more than a dozen missed calls and texts. Most of them were from Tony, but there were two texts from Steve, the last sent about twenty minutes earlier. Opening those first, she stumbled to a halt as she read.

"Clint," she called, still staring at her phone.

"What?" He shouted back, glaring at her over his shoulder. "Come on."

"Fury's dead."

Clint missed a step, caught himself on the railing and dropped back down to her.

"What?" He asked, his face creased in a baffled frown.

"Steve sent a couple texts." She held the phone out to him, he took it seeming both reluctant and impatient at the same time.

The first read: FURY DEAD. HYDRA IN SHIELD. GET OUT.
And the second: TRISKELION COMPROMISED. STATUS?

She'd tried to convince Steve that he didn't have to send texts like they were telegrams, and he mostly did okay, but sometimes he backslid. Stress, probably. A solider's 'get to the damn point already' instinct kicking in. It's not like those were the sort of messages that really needed emojis or anything, anyway.

"Aw, damn it," Clint sighed, handing her back her phone. He scrubbed a hand through his short hair and glanced back up the stairs. "Tell him we're trying to hold New York, then call Stark and get your ass back to the Tower."

"You sure you don't need me here?" She asked, as she shot off a quick text to Steve. It wasn't that she really wanted to stay, but she felt she at least had to offer. She was pretty done with the day, though, after that whole shooting people madcap escape through the tunnels of New York thing.

"We need your help from the Tower. Somebody needs to figure out what the fuck's going on." He raised his chin, daring her to argue, but she just shrugged, more than ready to go home.

"Yeah, alright."

If anything, Clint looked almost crestfallen at her easy agreement. "You're not going to argue with me?" She glanced away when his lips twisted into a near-pout. Not fair. So not fair.

"Not today."

"You can really suck the fun out of being your SO," he groused, all weariness and petulance.

"Darcy Fun Suck Lewis, that was my nickname in college, yessir. Though, for way different reasons."

By the blank, 'took a blow to the head', look on his face, she probably shouldn't have said that, but in her defense it had been a super stressful day and she was her father's daughter. Crack jokes and make inappropriate comments during situations calling for any sort of maturity -- that's the Stark way.

Clint, jaw slightly slack, stared at her for a long moment, before he finally shook his head like a wet dog and blurted out, "Hydra."

She grinned at him and waved a hand towards the street above. "After you, dude."

Bounding up a half-dozen stairs, he paused and jogged back down. "Was that really your nickname in--"

"Terrorist attack."

"Yeah, but--"

"Seriously?"

"Hey, you brought it up," he accused, pointing a finger directly at her face.

"It was a bad joke. Terrorists?"

"Yeah." And when he seemed, once again, disappointed, she punched him in the shoulder. "Ouch."

"Oh please."

Her stomach twisted itself back into knots once they hit the street, and she could see the swarms of black-suited agents outside the SHIELD building. Even from a distance it looked like they were watching each other as much as they were watching the building.

Clint gave her a nod and jogged away, readying his bow and nocking an arrow as he slipped down the street, hugging close to the walls of buildings, not giving anybody a good angle to take a shot at him. Darcy felt a chill creep down her spine, through her limbs, lingering in her throat, making it tight, hard to breathe. This was real. This was so real. This was holy shit real. God.

Turning away from the SHIELD building, she spotted the police barricade down the block, lights flashing, cops milling around. With a deep breath, she looked down at the phone in her hand, called up Tony's number, and started the long walk down the street.

"Where the fuck are you?" Tony greeted, sounding furious and relieved.

"Clint and I just got clear, but he's headed back your way."

"Copy," he grunted, and she heard the explosive whine of his repuslors, followed by the sound of screaming and the clatter of gunfire.

"We'll be toasting Howard and his Cold War paranoia later, though."

"Can't wait to hear about it," Tony replied after another round of repulsor blasts and some more screaming. Hulk roared somewhere in the background.

"Clint's a big fan. I'm going back to the tower, I'll coordinate from there. For, you know, whatever's left."

"That good, huh?"

"Fury's dead."

"Shit."

"DC's under attack, too."

"Cap?"

"Don't know." She tried to keep down the bile at the thought of something happening to Steve. Or Natasha; she was in DC, too, after all. "He sent a couple texts a while ago. That's it."

Metal clanged against metal and Tony grunted, swore under his breath, and something exploded two seconds later. He let out a long sigh. "Okay, get home. Call me when you get there. And nobody onto Avengers floors but, you know, Avengers."

"That was very dad, dad," she told him approvingly.

"It happens." Hulk roared again, Tony yelped, then yelled back, "Hulk, buddy, you've gotta stop throwing them at me!"

"Right, so, you two have fun, I'll call you in a bit."

"Stay safe," he ordered, but the seriousness of the order was spoiled by his giggle as something else blew up.

Darcy winced and felt compelled to add, "Don't let the building fall on Clint. He's breakable and squishy."

"Yeah, whatever," Tony huffed, distracted, "it's still structurally sound." The loud pop of cracking concrete gave that up as a lie. "Mostly."

Rolling her eyes, Darcy ended the call and, dropping her phone back into her pocket, she faced the line of police. SWAT members were spread out in a 'v' up the sidewalks, and positioned behind the barricade, and they all had their weapons trained on her. When she was close enough, she pulled the badge from her vest pocket, holding it out in one hand so it was clearly visible, and raised both arms above her head before shouting, "Federal agent!"

They moved quickly, two SWAT guys breaking off, one from each side of the street, dashing towards her, keeping wary eyes on the street behind. One took a covering position at her back, the other threw his arm around her shoulder and grabbed hold of her vest, shielding as much of her body with his as possible. He pulled her down into a low crouch and they made an awkward run to the barricade, through it, and then behind the heavily armored SWAT van, where he finally let her go.

"Thanks," she breathed out, pushing her hair out of her face.

He nodded once then stepped away as a man in a Captain's uniform stepped up.

"I'm Captain Damato, what's the situation down there, agent?"

"I honestly don't know." Darcy sucked in a couple deep breaths and scrubbed a hand across her face. SHIELD was a black ops organization, top secret, but she figured they couldn't really be for too much longer. And if SHIELD was as damaged as she thought, then these guys would be the frontline soon enough. "Terrorist attack."

"Did somebody claim responsibility? We haven't heard anything."

"Hydra."

The Captain frowned and rubbed at his chin. "Hydra? I thought they--"

"Yeah, so did we." Darcy straightened up and chewed on her lip. "Look, I really need to get to Avengers Tower to help coordinate from there."

"Right." The Captain shrugged off his own surprise and glanced over at the swarm of cops behind them. "I need a unit," he called.

"Here, sir." A young officer, his light blue uniform looking far too neatly pressed for the kind of shit going down all around them, stepped forward and waited for the Captain to acknowledge him.

"Get this agent to Avengers Tower. Roll code three."

"Yes, sir," he replied smartly.

The officer led Darcy to his car, hit the lights before she even got her seat belt on, and hit his sirens just as they pulled into the emergency lane. She'd never gotten through midtown so quickly before.

Once at the Tower, she had only enough time to thank the cop with a wave of her hand, before she was hustled inside by a team of Stark security personnel. They closed around her in a tight ring, tense and armed; God only knew what Tony had told them. The team leader wouldn't even let her get on the coded, retinal scan-requiring private elevator without making sure it was clear first.

"Must have been a hell of a threat," she murmured when she was finally allowed into the elevator.

"Yes, miss," one of the men agreed with a thin smile and a sharp nod.

The doors slid shut silently and, finally alone, she let herself slump back against the wall. Raising a hand to rub at her face again, she stopped when she noticed how caked with grime and dirt they were. God, she probably looked like absolute hell. Well, that was appropriate enough.

Out of nowhere, she was struck with the thought that wherever she was and whatever she was doing, Darcy'd bet Natasha still looked runway ready. Just one of the many tricks she hadn't learned from the Black Widow.

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up through the tightness of her throat. "Don't be dead. Don't any of you be dead, damn it."

"Darcy?" Jarvis called, his voice modulated to avoid startling her and to convey a soothing presence. Excellent incorporeal brother that he was, he was always preternaturally aware of that kind of thing.

Dropping her head back against the wall, she shoved her hands in the straps of her vest and closed her eyes. "Hydra's back and that's fun."

"I overheard your initial call to your father."

"Yeah. Super awesome." Pausing, she licked her lips and tried to focus her mind through the haze of being seriously wigged out. "So, hey, Jarvis, do me a favor and get into SHIELD's system if you can. But, be careful, there was some sort of funky signal, like digital static, layered over everything. Might be a virus or a worm. I didn't really have time to look."

"Of course. Are you injured? Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated."

"I'm fine, just freaking out kind of a lot."

"Heightened stress response. Understood."

Darcy kept her eyes closed and listened to the slick hum of the elevator rising.

After a long second of silence, Jarvis spoke up again, "May I make a suggestion?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Perhaps you would feel better after a shower and something to eat."

Darcy pressed her lips together and let out a long breath through her nose. "How much are you going to mother hen me until I follow that suggestion?"

"I do not 'mother hen'. I will simply remind you, periodically, of the need to take care of yourself."

"So, a lot, is what you're saying?"

"I find it worth noting that Ms. Potts has stated on more than one occasion that she finds a warm shower relaxing."

"Yeah, alright." It was useless arguing with him; he'd just keep at it until he logic-ed her into giving in anyway. "You'll keep working on the SHIELD thing?"

"Of course," he replied pertly, almost sounding offended that she'd even thought to ask.

She hurried to smooth his ruffled feathers. "Best disembodied brother ever."

"Thank you."

"Dad should make you a body," she mused.

"I think I would find that ... limiting."

"A wi-fi enabled body?"

"I'll think about it."

The shower helped her feel less physically gross, but it didn't do much to clean away the nauseating violation of SHIELD's betrayal. But, she supposed it worked well enough, because when Jarvis decoded Hydra's activation message, she only rolled her eyes at the "OUT OF THE DARKNESS. INTO THE LIGHT. HYDRA." Because, really? Though, maybe "NAZI MINIONS, ATTACK!" was too on the nose.

With a stomach still too knotted to even think about food, despite Jarvis's prompting, she made her way to her father's workshop and started trying to figure out just how far Hydra's infiltration went, and with attacks on DC and New York, what else might be toppling -- she honestly wasn't holding out hope that much was still standing.

For two hours she tried to contact every SHIELD facility she knew, and some she dug out of Tony's SHIELD files. Mostly what she got back was desperate confusion and pleas for help she couldn't do a damned thing about, or chilling silence. Though, somebody at the Sandbox tried to trace back her attempt at contact and infect the Tower's systems with a nasty bit of code. Jarvis quarantined it before it could begin to pull itself together.

In the end, the only base that she could say, with some degree of certainty, was still standing was The Hub. A level three agent was obviously not worthy of a direct response from Agent Hand, but a terse message from one of her underlings told her they'd been attacked but the Hydra forces had been eliminated.

As bad as all that was, she thought the worst just might have been when she was unable to establish communication with Coulson's plane. They were just ... nowhere.

Or, well, maybe the worst was when she finally watched live footage from DC, and saw three small (relatively) Helicarriers open fire on each other over the Potomac. She grimaced her way through the broadcast, and squeezed her eyes shut when one of the carriers bulldozed through one of the Triskelion's towers.

Steve hadn't responded to her message, but clearly he was a little busy, and there were reports that Captain America was on site. She crossed her fingers that on site meant "was fighting Hydra" and not "was crushed by a falling Helicarrier". There was no mention of Natasha, but that was hardly surprising. Even after going very publicly overt during the battle of Manhattan, few people could identify the Black Widow.

With Fury dead, she tried to reach out to Hill. The primary carrier was in dry dock, being retrofitted with repulsor turbines, so that was out of play. Probably a good thing; the last thing the world really needed was Hydra to get that up in the air. Still, though, Hill wasn't responding from there, either. Darcy had to admit she was slightly relieved -- she and the Deputy Director were not besties. At all. Like she was pretty sure Hill had already planned out her murder and the disposal of her corpse. So ...

Immersed in the situation at SHIELD, Darcy didn't immediately realize the situation about SHIELD, until Jarvis's attempts to get her attention became too much for her to tune out. Sometime around the actual, physical collapse of the Triskelion, SHIELD, organizationally, exploded. Somebody leaked everything. Like, actually everything.

Hundreds of terabytes of information. Hell, make that hundreds of petabytes. Darcy and Jarvis scrambled to find the capacity to store it all. It was like trying to take a drink out of a firehose. For about nine minutes the flood overwhelmed the entire internet, bringing it to a slow crawl.

Once they'd taken in and contained the flood, they started looking. The first thing that was immediately obvious and made horrible sense, was Secretary Pierce's involvement with Hydra. She'd seen that dude once, on one of her few trips into the Triskelion before she was banned. They didn't talk, of course; she was a nameless, faceless SHIELD drone as far as he was concerned. Or, she really hoped she was.

And maybe that's the real reason Fury kicked her out -- not her repeated questions about Coulson, but his own suspicion of shenanigans in SHIELD. They killed him for something, after all, right? And he'd always been very, very pointed that nobody should know who her father was, that that was never put in any records. Coulson knew because he found out first, and then just members of the Avengers. Darcy didn't think Fury'd even trusted Hill with that information.

That thought didn't do much but make her feel kind of bad about how many times she'd called Fury a jackass for kicking her out of the Triskelion. Not one hundred percent bad, of course, because was the frog march across the bridge really necessary, sir? Really? Jackass.

The next thing Darcy noticed was that Hydra was everywhere. With every new file, an ugly picture was taking shape. Their infiltration went far beyond well-placed sleeper agents. They weren't in SHIELD, they were SHIELD. Ops and counter ops, assassinations, destabilizations, terror attacks -- Hydra's hand could be found in so many of the threats SHIELD had faced. For decades the agency had been fighting itself, while Hydra positioned themselves to achieve their ultimate goal of domination. And, it looked like, a hell of a lot of mass murder in the process.

Through all the sifting, she and Jarvis developed a knack for spotting Hydra in the files, and Jarvis went so far as to whip together a little algorithm for further refining. Still, it was a lot, and it was disheartening, and devastating, and after a while she just couldn't take it anymore.

"Jarvis, keep looking, will you? Pull together a list of every agent listed as Hydra, of course, but also the ones who worked ops flagged as possible Hydra action."

"Of course. Shall I make the list available to the authorities?"

"No," she said quickly. It was all out there already, others were looking, too, but those weren't conclusions she was comfortable jumping to. "Not yet. I mean, geez, how many agents thought they were doing SHIELD work, but that actually turned out to be for Hydra? We can't. Not right now. Hydra suckered us all, I don't want to crucify somebody else for something they never saw either."

"I understand."

"Put it on dad's onsite secure server, then lock it off the network. Access from terminals this floor only. I'll look it over later. Maybe."

"Confirmed."

"Thanks, Jarvis," she told him, her voice quiet. Feeling subdued and a little more than close to tears, she leaned against the desk and pushed her fingers under her glasses, pressing them against her eyes.

"May I suggest you take a break for an early dinner?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"You left shortly after breakfast, and given that your schedule at SHIELD was interrupted by the attack, I think it's unlikely you had lunch. I don't believe now is a particularly good time for you to make yourself ill."

"Oh, wow," Darcy breathed out a small laugh. "That was like mom-level. Where did you learn that?"

Jarvis ignored her question and her protest. "I've had some food sent up from the cafeteria kitchen. There's a cart waiting in the elevator."

"Thanks, mom."

Jarvis was pointedly silent.

Halfway through a sandwich she really didn't want, honestly didn't taste, and could barely swallow, Tony and Bruce returned to the Tower and joined her in the kitchen.

Abandoning her sandwich, she let Tony pull her into a tight hug. When he left the Tower he hadn't even taken the time to put on his neoprene under-suit, and his jeans and t-shirt were sweat-stained, possibly unsalvageable, and definitely rank. Still, she didn't let him go for a good long while.

Pulling back to look at her, he narrowed his eyes and peered into her own. "You're okay?"

"Physically I'm fine. Mentally totally wigged."

Tony nodded and pulled her in close again. "Not that I didn't trust Barton when he said you were fine, but, Jesus."

"I know," she muttered into his chest. "Seriously, never, ever been that freaked out."

"You and me both."

Finally she stepped back and glanced over at Bruce, who'd collapsed wearily into a chair at the table. He caught her eye and pointed to her sandwich. "Do you mind?"

She waved a hand at him. "Go to town. There's more in the fridge, too."

Tony dove into the fridge and came out with platters of sandwiches, fruit, vegetables, little stuffed savory buns, and God only knew what else. She really hadn't paid much attention when she pulled the trays off the cart.

"I thought I told you nobody onto these floors," Tony scowled, tossing the platter of sandwiches in front of Bruce.

"Jarvis ordered and had them send up the cart by itself. Also, you're welcome."

"Thank you, Jarvis," Bruce mumbled around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

"So, where is Clint?" She asked, sitting back down while Tony sniffed and headed back to the fridge for a beer.

"Mopping up," Bruce told her, wiping his mouth with a napkin and reaching for another sandwich. The Other Guy really took a lot out of him, but privately Darcy suspected her dad was on to something -- when Bruce let Hulk out, he didn't tend to pass out when he turned back, or at least, it didn't last long if he did, and his recovery seemed to be a lot quicker.

Tony braced himself at the kitchen island and popped off the top of his beer on the edge. "So, what's the story?"

With a sigh, she sat back in her chair, and waved Bruce off when he offered her another sandwich. "So, you know how it looks really, really bad? It's like a million times worse."

"Uh, wow," said Bruce as he contemplated the tray of pickles. "That is impressive."

"Sure, that's a word for it," Darcy snorted.

"Cap?" Tony asked.

"No word. Haven't heard from Natasha, either, or Hill." Darcy pinched and twisted her lower lip between two fingers and looked out the window as if she could see the smoldering ruins of SHIELD from there.

"What?" Tony prompted. "You've got a look. I've never seen this look. I don't like you having looks I don't know."

"Those three next-gen helicarriers I'm not supposed to know anything about?"

"Yeah."

"What?" Bruce looked up from a tomato and frowned. "Three carriers?"

Darcy offered him a grim smile and a nod. "They were Hydra's opening move. Or, well, I think they were supposed to be. From what I can tell, they were tied to SHIELD's threat assessment system and some wicked predictive algorithm that I could not even begin to make sense of."

"How do you ..." Bruce waved a hand at her in a circular sort of all-encompassing motion.

"Oh, right, yeah, you missed my fun while you were having your own. So, somebody leaked everything about SHIELD. Like seriously, all the things were leaked onto the internet. Let me just say there's like a gajillion terabytes of data. Jarvis and I got through maybe a hundred gigs. Yeah ... that's so awesome."

"The carriers," Tony prompted impatiently.

With a deep breath, Darcy grimaced and grabbed a carrot stick, more for something to do with her hands, than any desire to eat it. And it gave her an excuse to not look at her father. "So, they were supposed to target threats to Hydra. Or even, like potential threats. They were due to launch today. Since they so very spectacularly blew each other out of the sky and landed in the Potomac in a zillion flaming chunks, I'd say we're damned lucky Cap and Nat obviously figured it out first."

Bruce sucked in his cheeks and glanced over at Tony before turning back to Darcy. "What do you mean target?"

"Petabytes, petabytes of data." She threw both her hands in the air then brought them down to drag through her hair. "Like zillions."

"Sorry."

"No, I mean, I don't exactly know, but it's Hydra, so you know, probably what you're thinking. Evil Nazis are always down for a little mass murder, right? And whatever that algorithm is ... if Steve and Nat didn't do what they did, if I had to guess, the three of us would be dead right now."

Bruce chuckled, low and grim. "Well, maybe not me."

With a humorless sort of laugh and a thin smile, Tony tipped his beer bottle at Bruce. "Do you honestly think Hydra didn't try to come up with a way to take out the Other Guy?"

Bruce tossed his head, unconvinced, and grabbed another sandwich. "Trying isn't the same as succeeding."

Tony gave him a flat, unimpressed look, then raised an eyebrow at Darcy. "That it?"

"No. Hydra took over SHIELD's networks, hit every base I know. The only one I'm pretty sure is still standing is the Hub. Even the Triskelion is toast. Flaming toast with chunks of helicarrier sprinkled on top."

With a slow nod, Tony took a deep pull from his beer, and stared at nothing in particular. It was a dangerous look on him. "The helicarriers. With my tech. That I designed and built for SHIELD."

"Hydra all the way," Darcy confirmed quietly.

He nodded again, drained the bottle, then, spinning on his heel away from Bruce and Darcy, threw it as hard as he could. The bottle exploded against the wall. "God damn it," he roared.

Bruce jumped in his seat, then hunched his shoulders, leaning down over his sandwich. Darcy eyed him, not exactly wary, but definitely watching. There was a lot she didn't know about the Hulk -- like, how long after a transformation could he do it again? Was there a time limit? A recovery period? She suspected that anger on behalf of a friend might just be enough to send him off, however recently he'd been stomping around. But, right that moment, he looked more like he wanted to curl up under the table than like he wanted to rip the world apart. So, there was that.

"Never again," Tony shouted. "My tech. They used my tech. Never fucking again."

"Dad--"

"Anything else?" He demanded, nearly breathless with his rage.

"God, I don't know. Probably a million things." Darcy rubbed at her forehead and propped an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "Hydra's been in SHIELD forever. Decades. I mean, I saw the name Zola in one file. Project Paperclip."

"Zola?" Tony echoed, the fight going out of him for the moment. With a deep breath he shook his head and muttered, "Jesus, dad."

Scrubbing a hand roughly through his hair, he finally joined the two of them at the table, dropping heavily into a chair. "So, how did we never see this? How did I never see this?"

Darcy shrugged. "I don't know. It's in a million files all over the place. I mean, it's obvious when you have the million files and you know what to look for, but without all of it together? I don't know how you'd see it. There's just so much."

"Fury should have seen it," he growled.

"Maybe he did. Maybe that's why they killed him," she offered back.

"I want to look at these files."

"Well, they're up in your workshop."

"So wait," Tony said holding out a hand to stop everybody, even though nobody'd moved yet. "When you say everything was leaked, how much everything? You?"

"Just my jacket," Darcy told him. Because, yes, one of the first things she did was look up her SHIELD file. If it was out there in the world, she wanted to know what it said. It was only mildly traumatizing; Natasha pulled no punches with her assessment of Darcy's hand to hand skills, but Clint's evals were much nicer, and much more brief.

"There's nothing that ties me to you in there," she continued. "Fury was always super pointed about that. The only people who knew were Fury, Coulson, Steve, Nat, and Clint."

"Well, two of them are dead," Tony pointed out flatly and Darcy winced. He narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

Darcy blew out a long breath. It was probably in the files, so he'd find out anyway, and maybe it would be better coming from her. Maybe. "So, okay, there's just one more thing, but I would put this under the heading of actual good news."

"Senator Stern is Hydra?" Tony asked, his face brightening for a moment, no doubt already planning Iron Man's visit to the Senator.

"Oh, huh," Darcy frowned. She'd been so immersed in SHIELD itself, she didn't even get around to considering who else in the government might have been Hydra. God, probably plenty of people. So, this just kept getting worse. Awesome. "I have no idea, actually. I haven't gotten that far."

Tony shrugged. "Okay, so spill it, kid."

"Coulson's still alive." She raised her eyebrows and squinted at him, waiting for his reaction.

"He's ... what?"

"Yeah."

Bruce, who'd moved on from the sandwiches to the vegetable platter, frowned at her skeptically. "Loki stabbed him in the heart."

"I know," Darcy said.

"I saw the report on his injury. It was, without a doubt, fatal." Sometimes Bruce just really broke her heart. Of course he'd looked, because he kept a horrible tally of all the people he thought he'd hurt. How that included Phil, she couldn't say, and she knew as far as Phil was concerned Loki was the only one responsible, but Bruce's guilt could be stronger than reason.

"Yeah, well, I guess not so much," was all Darcy could offer back by way of explanation.

"Are you kidding me with this?" Tony threw himself back in his chair so hard the legs shrieked in protest against the marble floor. He opened his mouth, prepared to go on some rant or other, but he paused and cocked his head at Darcy, eyeing her shrewdly. "You found this in the leak?"

"Well ..." His eyes narrowed as she prevaricated. He knew she was hiding something, she could see it in his darkly glittering eyes. Honestly, it was pretty surprising she'd kept it from him this long. He was her dad after all, he knew her, he could always read her when he took the time to look. "It might be in the files, but that's not how I know."

"Fury told you?" Bruce asked.

She gave him a pitying glance. "I like how you think he ever told me anything other than 'get the hell out of my damned office'."

Bruce shrugged.

"Darcy," Tony said her name slowly, a warning to get to the point.

"Funny story," she said with a forced smile and a tap of her fingers on the table top. "He's been here. You know, once or twice after his not-death."

"Here. In my tower. JARVIS!"

"Yes, sir."

"The ghost of Agent has been visiting; you didn't think that was important enough to tell me?"

"I have no record of any visits, sir," Jarvis assured him.

Darcy bit her upper lip and opened her eyes a little wider, trying to convey some sort of innocence. Tony didn't buy it, of course. "Well, uh, you know how Phil was with Jarvis's systems." Tony's already dark look turned pretty damned black. "Jarvis, it's on server 004, level three, file December 21, 2012."

"Accessing. Confirmed. Agent Phil Coulson visited the residential floor on 21 December 2012 at 5:06 p.m."

Tony pointed a finger at her but seemed otherwise lost for words.

"He came by to check on me when the house fell off the cliff and you went missing."

"Don't make this about me," he accused, anger taking on an edge of petulance.

"I'm not," she defended herself hotly. "I'm just saying, that's why he was here."

"And the other time?"

"A few months earlier. I don't think Jarvis has a record of that. Phil took him off-line which is pretty much what convinced me it was really him."

Tony's mouth tightened enough that it disappeared entirely behind his goatee. "And then you came home for Thanksgiving with a SHIELD contract."

"That's pretty much how it went." She watched him and braced herself for him to blow up. "Dad, please don't be mad." It was one thing to have Clint pissed at her, but she really didn't want that from Tony. They might bicker and give each other all the crap, but they'd really only had a couple major fights. Those were bad, super bad, and really to be avoided at all costs. "It's ... it's Phil. I made him a promise."

Bruce shifted in his chair and, no doubt trying to diffuse the tension, said, "I just don't understand how he's still alive."

"I don't know. It's why Fury banned me from the Triskelion -- I asked once too often."

Tony bowed his head and snorted softly. "Alright, Darce. Pissing Fury off that much -- I forgive you." Standing he clapped his hands together once and then rubbed them together in restless agitation. "Holy fuck, what a mess. If you're done eating your weight in carbs, Banner, can we go look at those files now?"

"I'm not stopping you," Bruce grumbled back, but he grabbed two apples and a handful of buns, and followed Tony as he strode out of the room.

Darcy trudged after them, and while they looked through the files, she poked half-heartedly through the list Jarvis had compiled of known Hydra agents and those who'd taken part in suspected Hydra operations. It was depressing as hell.

Clint turned up an hour later, filthy and banged up, but mostly whole. He stayed only long enough to stare silently and sullenly at Darcy as she gave him her report, and when she wasn't able to give him an update on Natasha, he turned and left without another word. Tony raised his eyebrows, questioning, but she could only shrug.

Fortunately, they didn't have to wonder about the Russian for too long. As the day from hell finally gave way to dusk, she called in.

"Darcy, did you --" Natasha began, only to be interrupted as Darcy let out an explosive breath, relieved beyond all measure.

"Oh thank God. Holy crap, tell me you've called Clint."

"Not yet. He's next. Did you get the files?"

Darcy didn't smack herself in the forehead, even though she really kind of wanted to. "Of course that was you. Yes, we got them. We're going through them now."

Tony's timing was perfect as he let out a string of vicious profanity. He'd been doing that periodically as he and Bruce went through everything, but he got particularly creative whenever his tech was involved.

"Stark sounds like he's having fun," Natasha noted dryly.

"Sure, let's say that's a thing that's true." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her father tug at his hair in strangled rage. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dashyenka."

"Steve?"

Natasha was silent for a long moment, long enough that Darcy started to get that queasy, acidy feeling in her stomach again. "He'll be fine," Natasha told her finally. "He fell from one of the carriers into the river. The doctors think he'll be out of the hospital in a day or two." She laughed a little, a tired, rusty sound. "Super soldiers."

The thought of falling like that left her dizzy and she swallowed heavily. "Right, yeah. Okay."

"Did they hit New York?"

"In a big way. Hydra didn't take it, but ... well, I'm not sure what's left post-Iron Man and the Other Guy."

"What a shame," Natasha said, sounding not terribly put out. "Clint?"

"Pissed but fine." Darcy paused and chewed on her lip. "I'm sorry about Fury."

"Fury ... thank you."

"Yeah, so are you coming back to New York or are you staying in DC?"

"I'll be in DC for a while longer. They've already begun sending out subpoenas. And then ..." she sighed. "I don't know, Dashyenka. My cover's been blown."

"Nat --"

"It's fine. Don't worry. I just need some time. You're going to read things about me in those files."

"Unless you're Hydra, I don't care."

Natasha let out a thoughtful and maybe skeptical hum. "We'll see. Keep an eye on Clint, will you? He gets into trouble on his own."

"I will, I promise. Look, there's this--"

"I have to go, Darcy, but one last thing. The Winter Soldier. I never told you about him, but he was here. It may come up and I want you to be very, very careful if you look into him." Her voice was low, serious, and there was an edge to it that chilled Darcy. It sounded a lot like fear.

"The Winter Soldier?" And if Natasha's fear wasn't enough, that was one hell of a creepifying cold school name if Darcy'd ever heard one.

"He was a myth from the old days, a Soviet assassin." Darcy frowned. The old days? Natasha was like six years older than her. "He's extremely dangerous, but now ... I don't know how stable he may be. Be very careful."

"Sure, yeah, of course." When the Black Widow said something or somebody was crazy scary dangerous, avoiding that went to the top of Darcy's list of A-plus survival tips.

"You need to know, though," Natasha continued, intensity ratcheting up another notch, and tightening the ball of anxiety that had taken up residence in Darcy's gut, "that we identified him as James Buchanan Barnes."

"As ... wait, what?" Shaking her head, squinting a little, as if both of those things would get Natasha's words to make sense. It really didn't help. "Bucky? Are you talking about Bucky Barnes? Actual Bucky Barnes? Steve's bestie forever and ever? That Bucky?"

"Yes."

Mystified, Darcy couldn't speak for a whole ten seconds or so before finally managing to choke out, "How?"

The reply was one word, simple, and terrifyingly clear. "Zola."

"Well, son of a motherless goat."

Natasha snorted a reluctant laugh. "You promise me if you look into him--"

"I will be so very careful. I swear."

"Good. I have to go. Be safe, Dashyenka."

"You, too. And, you know, keep in touch, would ya?"

"I'll do what I can."

"That's not--" Darcy began to protest that that was not at all agreement, but Natasha had already disconnected.

She glowered at her phone for a moment before noticing Tony watching her, eyes narrowed, something in them bordering on concerned. Tossing the phone on the desk, she faced him with a phony, sunny smile. "Steve's in the hospital. Nat's fine, though, and she's the one who leaked the files. Also, Bucky Barnes is still alive and is a possibly unstable super dangerous Soviet assassin. So, there's that."

Concern melted into confusion and from there to ridiculous, absurd laughter. A lot of laughter. It was really the only sane response. Darcy joined him and Bruce watched them both with an uncertain half-smile on his face.

"Bucky Barnes," Tony choked out through the bizarre hilarity of it all. "Fuck me. I bet Capsicle loved that. God, I'm laying down money that we get zombie Howard tomorrow. Who's in?"

Darcy shook her head. "No bet."

"Bruce?"

Bruce gave him a look that said he really wasn't on board the whole humor train at the moment, and then got right to the actually most important part of Darcy's message, "Steve's in the hospital?"

Tony scowled at Bruce for killing the moment, but the reminder definitely sobered up Darcy pretty good. "Yeah," she confirmed, "but Nat says he'll be fine. Out in a day or two. He fell off one of the carriers."

Bruce made a non-committal noise and fiddled with his glasses, but his forehead was creased in a thoughtful frown.

Tony rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal. A few seconds of tapping and he waved a hand at the monitor. "Fractures, lacerations, contusions, collapsed lung, water in his lungs, blah blah blah. Yep, looks like he fell off a carrier to me."

He shoved the monitor over towards Bruce, who put on his glasses and leaned forward to read. Nodding to himself, he pushed the monitor away. "He'll be fine."

"Feel better?" Tony asked.

"You're the one who insists we're a team," Bruce accused mildly. "If I have to keep patching you people up, I want to know. Feel free to hire a team doctor. Actually, let me beg you to do that."

Tony waved him off with arrogant casualness. "You'd miss us."

"I really wouldn't," Bruce muttered back.

"And you'd just look anyway."

Bruce let out an irritable grunt and went back to digging through SHIELD files. Tony gave Darcy an amused look that said 'can you believe this guy' and jerked his thumb at Bruce.

Snorting, Darcy turned back to her own work and decided, before she just entirely gave up on the day, to make one last attempt at contacting the SHIELD facilities she hadn't been able to reach the first time around. The news wasn't good, the silence was profound, and she only managed to reach one additional site that succeeded in fending off Hydra.

Her final call was to the Hub, if only to give Agent Hand or her minion an update -- it seemed like the thing to do if they really were all that was left. Darcy wasn't one hundred percent up on SHIELD's depth chart, but she was pretty sure since she still couldn't reach Hill or Coulson (she'd believe he was dead when she saw his body, damn it), that made Hand the highest ranking agent she knew about.

The call picked up on the fourth ring, just as she was starting to sweat -- maybe the Hub had fallen anyway, just like the sky kept trying to do. "This is Agent Lewis --"

"Darcy? Is that you? Please tell me that's you."

It took a second for the voice to register, but when it did, Darcy's shoulders sagged with relief. "Skye. Where the hell have you guys been? I've been trying to reach the Bus for hours."

"Yeah, we got sort of hijacked. It's bad out here."

"What's the damage?"

"Well, we're all still standing, if that's what you're asking. Other than that ... a little soul-crushing."

Soul-crushing was the right term. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Darcy groaned with exhaustion. "Yeah. A dude I'd trained with for months tried to shoot me in the head today."

"I just got my badge," Skye told her, voice low, quiet, sad. "Like, just. Coulson's hanging on by a thread. May's been spying on him for Fury. She says it was just to keep an eye on his recovery, in case he went off the rails or something because of the whole resurrection deal, but that hurt, a lot. He's not really talking to her right now."

"Sucks when mom and dad fight."

"Orphan here, learning that the hard way." Skye sighed. "Everything kind of sucks right now, too. It's like a big train of suck just getting closer and closer and we're totally stuck on the tracks."

"Ouch to the metaphor. But, accurate."

"Things have been bad for a while. I ... got shot."

"Jesus, what--"

Skye cut off Darcy's surprised squawk. "That was a few weeks ago. I'm okay now, but ... then the May thing, then this. It's like every time I think things are as bad as they can get, they get worse."

"Don't say that," Darcy winced. "That's like curse bait. It's like saying 'hey universe, come and get me!'"

Skye snorted. "Yeah, well. How's New York?"

"Rubble. Triskelion's down, too. Fury's dead."

"Yeah, we heard. Hand is heading to the Fridge now, and Coulson has the Hub."

"Okay. Don't try to contact the Sandbox."

"Yeah, already made that mistake," Skye said with a rueful laugh. "Nasty virus?"

"Nasty virus," Darcy confirmed.

"That's it, isn't it? That's all that's left."

"Well, technically New York didn't fall," Darcy pointed out, trying to bat away the edge of despondency just coloring the edges of Skye's voice, "but I'm not confident the building's structurally sound. But, Hydra didn't take New York."

"So, add one. Check. God." Skye took a deep breath, and tried again in a more upbeat tone, "Well, hey, Coulson's determined, you know. He's not going to give in."

"He's good like that," Darcy agreed. "How about you?"

"I'll stick with him; after all, he stuck with me," Skye declared firmly. "Everybody else is feeling a little shaky, I guess."

"I'd offer you a place to land, but Natasha says subpoenas are already going out, so I expect we'll have a whole new shit-storm soon."

"Hooray," Skye cheered, heavy on the dry sarcasm. "Look, I've got to get back to Coulson with an update. Stay safe, huh?"

"You, too. And, like, try and keep in touch, because that whole couldn't reach the Bus thing sucked."

After hanging up, Darcy thought about what she should do next, decided that what she should do next was fall over and sleep for like three days, and just as she was thinking about her bed, she noticed how weirdly quiet it was in the lab. And that's when it struck her that the whole time she'd been on the phone with Skye, Tony'd been quiet. Which was an entirely alarming realization and she turned around to find Bruce by himself, hunched over a keyboard, Tony nowhere in sight.

"Where's my dad?" She asked, voice heavy with suspicion.

Bruce's shoulders hunched even higher, almost like he wanted to curl himself around the keyboard and vanish. He took a deep breath and turned to face her. "He said he needed some air."

"He needed some air," Darcy repeated, eyebrow raised, because that was not a Tony phrase. Really? Needed some air? More like needed some whiskey. Needed some Thai food. Needed some anything else that wasn't air.

Bruce's eyes drifted to the monitor next to his, then back to her. He bowed his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Nervous now, agitated, because if Skye cursed them, she was going to be pissed, she took small, hesitant steps towards the monitor. It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing, the image was grainy, the words on the page smeared, a tenth generation xerox of a mimeograph, half of it covered in black blocks of redacted text, but once the words started to resolve themselves, she went still and went cold.

It was a kill order. For Howard Stark.

She was not the least bit ashamed to admit that the day got to her then. She broke.

With one hand to her mouth, eyes unfocused, throat closing and choked with a tightness that was actually physically painful, she stood unmoving in front of the monitor. Tears spilled, gathering at the edges of her glasses, before slipping further down until she could taste the salt.

For a long while she didn't move. She felt horribly blank, and horribly raw and the only thing that kept running through her head was that her grandparents had been murdered. Hydra murdered them. She never got to meet Howard and Maria because they were murdered. Howard never got to see the man his son would become because he was murdered. By Hydra.

Bruce place his hand on her shoulder, gentle but awkward, and tried to comfort her. Catching his fingers, she gave them a small squeeze, appreciating the effort and how hard that was for him. But she had no words.

Darcy gave Bruce a quick hug, which, for once, he didn't flinch away from, and left to go track down her father.

She found him perched at a work bench in the metal shop, some project or other spread out in front of him, his busy hands twisting wires and shuffling scraps around in no obvious pattern, not really putting anything together, just staring at the jumbled pieces and rejumbling them. U hovered anxiously near by.

Darcy gave the 'bot a pat, and then stepped up behind her father and leaned against his back, pressing her cheek into the space between his shoulder blades.

"Whatever happens," Tony said after a few minutes or a few hours, "promise me you know how much I love you. Promise me you don't ever wonder."

"I know," she muttered.

He spun around and pulled her into a tight hug. "Promise me."

"I do, dad, I promise. I've never doubted it. Never for even a second." And that was the thing, Tony didn't have those answers for himself. And he could never ask.

He and Howard spent a lifetime not understanding each other, and never saying the words. And while Darcy knew Maria had been a loving mother -- Tony was full of stories about his mom -- she also knew she could be distant. Tony grew up with a disapproving father, a string of nannies, and a mother wrapped in her own world. He wondered. He hurt. And Hydra'd stolen his chance of ever knowing for sure.

He pulled back and grabbed her face in his rough engineer's hands and stared her straight in the eye. "Whatever good I've done in my life, it was for you. Tell me you know that."

"I do." She almost couldn't meet his eyes. He could be intense, but emotional intensity was foreign territory for both of them. Foreign and uncomfortable, but necessary right now.

Breaking his gaze, she tapped at his chest, where the arc reactor used to be, but what was now smooth and whole, skin and bone and cartilage -- not even a scar anymore. "I love you, too. You know that, right?" She had to check, too.

"I do."

"'Kay, just so we're on the same page here."

Some of the tension left his body and he let out a long, shaky breath. "I didn't know it at the time, I was too caught up in my own shit, but, kid, I tell you, the first time I saw you was the best day of my life." He looked away from her and turned back to the bench, playing with a long, l-shaped piece of aluminum. "I'm sorry, I'm so damned sorry that it took me nine years to get back to you. I regret that. I've regretted that every day."

"Then you're an idiot."

Tony barked a laugh, and gave her a mock glare over his shoulder. "I'm pouring my heart out here, Darce."

"Still. You are. I know you watched out for me. Don't think I don't know about that box of stuff from when I was a kid. Kindergarten Christmas ornaments and construction paper dreidels. Report cards. Class pictures. The one awesome crayon drawing of Captain America riding a dragon. I've seen it all."

"Little snoop," he grumbled, reluctantly amused.

"Duh. And I know, and I've always known, that if I'd needed anything, you would have been there." She stepped back up to him and propped her chin on his shoulder and watched as he rejumbled everything again.

"Won't lie, though, would have been cool to know you before, but when I look at my friends, the, you know, two or three who even have parents -- sometimes I wonder, is it sad or funny that Thor and I are the only ones who have even sort of normal family lives? Anyway, the few who have parents, I look at them and how their relationships are, and I think, geez, how'd I get so lucky? My dad is one of my best friends.

"So, really, I guess I don't care about those nine years, because I know you were always there. And, honest to God, the first time we met, that was my best day, too. And you're here now, and I get to have you." Closing her eyes she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry you never got to have that with Howard."

"I'm still pulling for zombie Howard," he told her, and the heavy intensity of the moment dissipated. Because, really, neither of them could take it for very long.

"Dork," she laughed, knocking her head lightly against his.

He reached up and gave her hair a tug, before beginning to tinker in earnest, and she pulled away, turning to lean back against the bench so she could see him.

"Okay," he said, pulling a nest of tangled wire apart, "new rules. Nobody gets my tech anymore."

"Oh, come on, you can't do that," Darcy protested.

"Watch me."

"You didn't know Hydra was there. Nobody did, and--"

He cut her off, "yeah, so, exactly my point."

"But who fights back? And with what, if you won't help."

"I will help," he protested, sounding a little offended that she'd think he wouldn't. She rolled her eyes, because, of course she didn't think that.

"Not Iron Man. You."

He scowled at her and turned back to his wires.

Pressing the advantage of his silence, she leaned forward and prepared her argument. "I mean, I know there's like twelve of us left, and objectively speaking, we are pretty great, but this is, you know, sixty years of Hydra infiltration. I'm just thinking we might need some extra hands, is all I'm saying. And, hey, Stark tech beat them once before, I'm sure we can do it again."

"Oversight," he said, or really almost spat. "And like the most thorough background checks ever. And personality tests."

Darcy frowned and picked up her own nest of wires. What the hell had been going on on this bench, anyway? She probably didn't want to know. "I wonder," she mused, "if any of us would actually pass a personality test."

Wrinkling his nose, his eyes glittered with amusement. "You're telling me you're Hydra, kid?"

"No, just a Stark."

He shook his head, but she could see the smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "Okay, Avengers excepted."

"I'm not an Avenger."

"Sure you are," he said easily, then jerked a thumb at her, "you're the short one."

"Ha ha," she said tonelessly. "That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask, how are those new lifts working out for you?"

"Smart ass," he snorted. "I love it."

"But, seriously. What would a personality test of all of you say? I think Natasha's the only one who might pass, but that's only because she'd totally game it. Maybe Thor."

"Fine," he sighed heavily. "What do you suggest then?"

"No, I think you're right," she said quickly. "With the oversight, I mean."

"Background checks?"

"Well, yeah, but SHIELD did background checks, and that obviously didn't totally work."

"Yeah, but SHIELD was compromised," he pointed out. "Hydra would have put people in place who could manipulate those." Tossing away the ball of wires, he sat back with a sigh and scratched at his chin. "And everything was too spread out, too compartmentalized, to see the vulnerability."

"Yeah," Darcy nodded, feeling exhaustingly overwhelmed by everything again.

"You talked to Agent's team?"

"Just Skye."

"Who the hell is Skye?"

"Phil's ... trainee? Protégé? Something like that."

"She could be Hydra."

"I doubt it," She shook her head, and really couldn't quite picture it. Her faith and trust had been shaken, but that was just ... she really couldn't see it. "Phil brought her in himself, from the outside. Dude collects strays -- Skye, Clint, Nat."

"You."

"Nah. I didn't need saving, and besides, I totally made him work for it -- recruitment-wise."

He smirked at her. "I'm so proud."

"You should be."

"No, seriously, I am." He looked away, and sat forward, back to tinkering. "What about the rest of his people?"

"Dunno," she shrugged. "Two techs, two field agents -- man, if his little scientists are Hydra that's a cruelty I cannot cope with. You talked to them that one time, remember? FitzSimmons."

Tony frowned, and his face darkened, like he was very nearly outraged. "That's where you were? Agent and I are going to have a little chat."

"Whatever," she waved him off. "Fury sent me out to check over their plane. Sweet ride."

He relented with a laugh. "And you didn't stay?"

"I know, right?" She nudged his leg with her knee. "Anyway, the other two agents -- I'd met Agent May before, when she helped with my insane contract."

Brows lowering in concern, he looked like he was deciding, again, whether to be irritated or not. "Pepper thought that was okay."

"Pepper saw the seriously revised version. Natasha kind of shredded the original. May helped us finish it off. I really, really hope she's not Hydra. I liked her." Darcy thought through her conversation with Skye and sighed. "I guess she kind of burned some bridges with the team, though. Fury had her spying on Coulson."

"Asshole," Tony muttered. "And the last one?"

"I don't know. Seemed like your typical uptight, by-the-book, MIB that SHIELD loves to turn out. Didn't spend much time with him. They all seemed like a good team, though."

"Hard to know today," Tony commented mildly, clearly not prepared to trust anybody at all anymore.

"I know," Darcy sighed. "Clint and I did a headcount and decided there were only six people in SHIELD we trusted. Well, five now, I guess, Fury being dead and all. No, I'll go back up to six; Skye is Coulson's. If you'd asked me this morning the answer would have been higher, but that was before the range master tried to shoot me."

Tony's hands stilled and his mouth tightened into a thin line. "Really?"

"Clint shot him first, obviously," she tried to reassure him, but anything involving shooting of any sort probably wasn't entirely reassuring.

"Barton gets a lifetime supply of arrows and kevlar and whatever the fuck else he wants."

"I do owe him a six pack."

"I'll buy him a brewery, what does he like?"

"Whatever's on sale at the bodega by his place. His taste in beer kind of sucks, usually when I break in, it's some light crap. Though, last time it was Negra Modelo. He must have been feeling fancy. And I drank the last two, so, you know."

Pressing his lips together like he did when he was trying to hide a smile behind his goatee, Tony watched her out of the corner of his eye. "I like the casual way you throw down your B&E. Just tossing it out there. Bold, confident. I like it."

She sniffed and tipped her chin up. "I wouldn't have to keep breaking in if he'd just give me a key."

That got him, and his face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. "Do we have to have a conversation about how he's too old and snipery for you?"

"What's twelve years, really? And he did save my life with his snipery ways today. A girl could be grateful. And, how much older than Pepper are you again?"

The lines on his face deepened as his expression turned from uncomfortable to outright pained. "I need you to stop talking to me. This conversation is leading to homicidal feelings."

Darcy pursed her lips and smirked. Sometimes he was just too easy, and, really, he had only himself and his staggering hypocrisy to blame.

"Jane's always saying I don't date enough," Darcy continued, finding her rhythm, "or, you know, ever. Because she has some sort of weird fascination with my love life I can't figure out, unless it's that she just wants me to be happy or have other interests that will get me out of her hair, but, whatever. And, in my defense it's hard to find a guy who gets the whole alien invasion weirdness and superhero stuff. She's dating Thor, so it's not like she has to think about that.

"Also, apparently, I'm intimidating. That's what my intern said anyway, when he was all 'I'm breaking up with you and I quit.' He was cute though, and totally killed an elf with a car for me. I wrote him an awesome eval. But, you know, I didn't really know him well enough to get into SHIELD deets or family history. I don't just spill that all willy-nilly. But, hey, Clint already knows all that. Plus, I have to admit, I have a total weakness for his arms. They're ridic. Not like Thor or Steve ridic, but real guy ridic."

Tony made small, wounded animal sounds throughout her speech. "You're killing me here."

"Plus," she continued, ignoring him, "for some reason, maybe like UST or something, we kind of argue a lot. Like all the time. So, I'm thinking the make up sex would be frequent and spectacular."

"Darcy, sweetheart, shut the hell up."

Closing her mouth on her ramble -- he'd let her get farther along in it than she'd thought he would -- she stared at him for a second, smile growing, "Aww, you called me sweetheart. You never do that."

He glowered at her, his dark, intimidating Iron Man glower. She was unmoved. He was being absurd and he knew it and, to her mind, he deserved the teasing. Though, she was 100% serious about Clint's arms. She wanted to sculpt those babies; preserve them for posterity. And maybe lick them, but that was a thought that would stay safely in the confines of her own head.

"I take it back," Tony said when he realized his glare was getting him nowhere. "Date Steve. He's perfect for you."

"No," she said with a shrug. "I've moved on. I mean, he's always on the BFF list behind you and Rico, but after like the eighth time he said I reminded him of Bucky I got the message. Which is fine, I get it. And let's not forget the three times he compared me to Howard. If we went on a date, I'd be wondering the whole time if he was thinking of his dead bestie or my grandfather. Too weird."

Tony chuckled and smirked a little. "Hey, if that's your thing, I don't judge."

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him and sniffed. "Though, since Nat says Bucky's still alive, maybe I'll get to see for myself. Downside, unstable assassin; upside, apparently we have a lot in common."

"I'm finding you a bunker." When she laughed he scowled. "It's hilarious how you think I'm joking."

"You've threatened me with the bunker before, and yet," she spread her arms, "no bunker."

"Jarvis! I need a bunker, preferably something deep and remote."

"Of course, sir," Jarvis replied promptly, though his tone was one of infinite and long-suffering patience. "Are you thinking of constructing it yourself, or shall I search for something decommissioned?"

"Don't help him be a hypocrite, Jarvis," Darcy protested.

"Ignore her, Jarvis."

"Ignore him, Jarvis."

"I'll contact Ms. Potts for her opinion, shall I?" Jarvis said, no doubt done with the both of them.

"Traitor," Tony hissed.

"I generally find it's the most efficient way to resolve these disputes," the AI replied primly.

Darcy snickered and tilted her head at Tony. "She'll probably make us sign a whole thing again."

Tony made a sour face and sighed. "She's probably had it drawn up since you were thirteen."

"Can we not find out what the terms of it are?" Darcy winced. "I'm okay with never knowing."

"Fine," he groaned.

"Have you talked to Pepper, by the way?"

"She called just before we left the SHIELD building."

"You should call her back."

"Why? I'll talk to her later. She's busy running a security review of SI -- again." He sounded annoyed and picked up a soldering iron. "She's going to be back on Saturday, anyway."

"Dad--"

"I'll talk to her later," he repeated, closing the door firmly on that line of discussion.

"Alright, alright."

"I'm okay, Darcy."

She laughed, a tired humorless laugh, and muttered, "I'm glad one of us is."

That got his attention, and he put the iron down and narrowed his eyes, searching her face. "What's going on with you?"

"I shot a guy today."

Chewing at his mustache, he nodded. "Barton told me."

"I'm a little weirded out. I mean, I don't know that it was shooting him, so much as, what if I'd been wrong? I know I was right, I know he was going to shoot me, but for a few seconds I wasn't so sure, and ... I can't seem to shake that feeling." She wrapped her arms around herself and stared down at her boots.

"I never wanted this for you," Tony said quietly.

"I know, but I made my own choice. Hydra aside, if you think I was going to let you be all superhero guy and not help you, you're mistaking me for some other daughter."

"Never happen."

"And even knowing SHIELD's been basically a Hydra front forever, I know not everybody in SHIELD was rotten, so I can't regret that. It's just ... holy crap, everything feels too big all at once."

Tony tapped her knee and gave it a squeeze. "That's why we've got a team. And I don't just mean the Avengers. But, you, me, Pep. We're a team. We'll figure it out. We're ... and I say this with all modesty--" Darcy snorted and he gave her a haughty look, "-- we're awesome."

"That is true."

"Yeah, so, nobody's carrying this shit alone, right?"

"Right."

Tony lifted himself from his chair enough to brush a kiss across her forehead. "So, go get some rest. Cuddle up to Barton if you've got to. Just ... never tell me about it."

"Nah, he's supremely pissed at me right now. Besides, I was mostly yanking your chain. Well, not about his arms, but--"

"Get out of here, kid," he growled and she laughed. "Let me work in peace."

"You need help?" She gestured to the mess spread out in front of him.

"Nope, just clearing my head."

"Alright." She pushed off the bench and started towards the door.

He called out to her before she left, "Darcy?"

"Yeah?"

"My dad ... we didn't have the best relationship, you know that. But he stood up to these assholes and I'm proud of him."

"Me too."

"They killed him. He must have seen it so they killed him and mom."

She sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. "Is it horrible that I'd actually wondered if it was Obie?"

"No." He turned around in his chair to face her. "I'd thought the same thing. Are we sure he wasn't Hydra?"

Darcy groaned and put a hand to her forehead, rubbing at the tension there. "How many more awesome surprises are we going to find in those files?"

"Really looking forward to that," Tony agreed. "But, my point is, dad stood up to them, and we'll do the same."

"Yeah, we will." And the weight that had sat upon her chest for most of the day lifted and she grinned at him. Best dad ever.

He turned back to the bench and picked up the soldering iron. "Good. Get some sleep kid, you looked wiped."

Obeying her father without complaint did not come naturally to her, but when he was right, he was right. Hell, maybe everything would look better in the morning. And that was so ridiculous a thought, that Darcy snorted and snuffled, laughing all the way to her room, and all the way to her bed, where she barely remembered to toss her glasses towards the bedside table before she hit the mattress face first on one last, exhausted snicker.

"Oh, fuck today," she mumbled and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Two days after the Triskelion went down in a cloud of flame and helicarrier parts, Maria Hill turned up at Avenger's Tower at o'dark shitty in the morning.

Darcy, still more than half asleep and stumbling out of her room in a desperate lurch towards the coffee machine (because somebody's father was a lunatic who decided that the best way to solve the SHIELD/HYDRA problem was to privatize global intelligence and who also decided his daughter was the perfect choice to help him, leaving her with a grand total of three lunatic jobs, and two lunatic bosses, and one sane one who turned into a giant green smash bro when he got cranky. And that count didn't even include her SHIELD status, which was sitting at 'wanted terrorist' at the moment), stopped dead at the sight of the woman making herself at home in the penthouse.

"Huh." She might have regretted the ratty old Stark Industries t-shirt, and the Dexter's Lab PJ pants, and the rat's nest on her head, especially in the face of a woman stupidly, insanely put-together at a stupidly insane time of morning, but, well, honestly, Darcy'd gotten pretty used to the Maria Hill stink-eye any time of the day. "You want coffee?"

"Lewis?" The other woman exclaimed, bolting to her feet and sounding and looking like she was trapped in that nightmare where you go to Prom naked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Darcy's bare feet slapped across the cool marble floor and her jaw cracked on a yawn. "I'm going for coffee. It lives in the kitchen. You can find me if you want some."

"Where is Stark?" Hill demanded, following after her.

"Dunno," she said with a weary shrug. "Sleeping, probably. Jarvis?"

"Mr. Stark is indeed asleep. Shall I wake him?"

"Nah, I'm sure he got less sleep than I did." She waved a hand vaguely at the air, and stared blankly at the empty coffee pot for a moment, before heading for the fridge with a baffled frown. "What time did he hit the hay, J?"

"About an hour ago."

Darcy paused, one hand in the fridge on the bag of precious, joy-giving beans, and winced. "Dude."

"Indeed."

"Pepper?" Pepper's original plan was to return to New York Friday afternoon, but when it became clear Tony had no intention of telling her they'd found the kill order on Howard, Darcy did an end-run and called her the next morning. Pepper wrapped things up in the office, left the rest of the security review to Happy, and was back by dinner.

"Ms. Potts is showering. I'll let her know you've arrived, Agent Hill."

"Thank you, Jarvis," Hill said, her voice tight. But, aside from Tony, most people actually found it very difficult to be rude to Jarvis. There was probably an academic paper or three in there somewhere -- a weird uncanny-valley side-effect, maybe. Or everybody'd just seen Terminator too many times.

Hill broke into her academic musings with a tight and slightly venomous, "I didn't know Stark extended his Avengers Play House invitation to hangers-on and perpetual interns."

Darcy barely heard her and was simply not coherent enough to put an effective edge to her snark. "Lucky you, I guess. Jarvis, you forgot to remind me to set the coffee last night," she grumbled. Most everything was automated, but somebody still had to remember to put in the coffee and tell the maker to keep doing its thing.

"I did remind you," the AI correctly primly. "You claimed to be, and I quote, too zombified to work a crayon, how did I expect you to figure out the coffee maker."

"Oh. Damn." She sighed and started up the coffee, then reached up to pull three mugs from the rack. Bowing her head for a moment, Darcy took a deep breath and accepted the reality of having to turn and deal with Hill without a fortifying cup o' joe.

Telling herself to cowgirl the hell up, she turned around and leaned against the counter. "So, I've been trying to reach you for a few days. Two days. Or, three? Jesus, what time is it? I hate the world."

Darcy rubbed at her face, yawned again, and wondered if just eating the coffee by the handful would do anything other than make her puke. "But, I guess you got one of the ninety messages I left at one of the like two dozen contact drops Clint had for you. Can I assume you're not Hydra, or should I just give Bruce a shout?"

Hill's eyebrow rose and she stared back, eyes frosty. "Was that a threat?"

"Uh, yeah, if you're Hydra." Darcy gave her a 'duh' face and yawned again. God damn it. She could stop helping Bruce in his lab, but she liked helping Bruce, he was peaceful and he was her not insane boss, even when he insisted he wasn't actually her boss and could she please stop calling him that. But, she only had so many hours in the day, and she couldn't stop working with Jane or Tony because the pouting would be cataclysmic and catastrophic and catasomethingelse.

"I am not Hydra," Hill assured her through clenched teeth, looking profoundly offended. "Are you?"

"No, I'm not Hydra, either. There. That feels ... better, or something. Do you feel better? I feel awesome."

Hill rolled her eyes. "What is it about you, Lewis? I have never been able to figure out what Fury saw in you."

"Nothing. Pretty sure I was just another pain in his ass."

Hill leaned back against the kitchen island and examined her, a puzzled twist to her lips. "Nothing? He made Romanov and Barton your SOs. Had you studying with Rogers. Made you the Avengers contact. Even Coulson was high on you. And now you're living with Stark? What am I missing?"

"Keeping me around keeps Thor happy, us being buddies and all? Even though Jane really hates that I joined SHIELD. Like a lot," she drifted off and considered just how much Jane hated it. Yep, a lot. "Or maybe I have hidden depths," Darcy suggested hopefully. Where 'hopefully' meant either Hill would drop it or Pepper would appear.

"Right," the other woman said with a disparaging snort, not dropping it. "Spotty employment history, political science degree, longest internship ever in a field you're woefully unqualified for, an aversion to professionalism, and I stopped counting how many reprimands you got for rules infractions."

"I lost count, too. Nine, I think. Mostly phone related." Darcy nodded slowly. "But, hey, you know what? I do have some skills. Phil admires my gifts for deflection and obfuscation. Obviously, that made me SHIELD-qualified in his eyes. Or, you know, it did before the qualifications changed to 'must be Nazi'."

Hill shook her head, unimpressed, and looked out the window with an impatient roll of her shoulders.

"Really, I think it was the nicest thing anybody's ever said about me," Darcy mused. It was true, though. And it wasn't the words, so much, as it was the intent behind them, that nod of approval, the 'hey, you're pretty good at something most people never even think about being good at.' "I even highlighted that part of Coulson's recommendation letter and framed the whole thing. Didn't I, Jarvis?"

"You did, indeed," Jarvis replied. "And very tastefully done, might I add?"

"You may."

"And Fury?" Hill asked firmly, trying to bring Darcy back to the subject she actually wanted answers about.

But, Darcy didn't have an answer to that. It really was probably just to keep an eye on her, keep Tony from being a bastard about it, and that was that. So she answered the question as honestly as she could, "Given a choice, I don't think he would have put up with me for a nanosecond."

"So, why did he?"

"You'd have to ask him."

"He's dead," Hill told her flatly.

Wincing, Darcy looked away and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. It was early, she hadn't slept nearly enough; foot-in-mouth disease, hey, it happened. "Yeah, I heard about that. I'm sorry. I mean, he was an asshole, but I am actually, truly sorry."

"You must have some idea," Hill pressed. The woman was like a dog with a bone.

Shoulders slumping, hands dropping down to hang uselessly at her side, Darcy tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling, her posture one of petulance and irritation and probably completely childish, but she really didn't care. She let out a long, exasperated breath. There was a futility in this all; nothing Darcy could say would be good enough for Hill. There was no appropriate answer. There was no one right way to go.

"Clint has lots of theories, if you're interested," she said finally, still staring at the ceiling and trying to wake up enough to properly plot an escape. "I can't say I really liked them too much, but, damn it, he was probably right. Well, not completely right, but close enough to suck."

Hill let out a long breath. "I'm starting to see Coulson's point."

"Yeah, I know," she admitted with a sigh. "It drives Steve nuts. But, it's hard to turn off." There was finally enough coffee brewed to pour herself a cup -- Hill was just going to have to wait. "So, speaking of Steve, I've got to go. It's either me or Tony, and, you know, it's usually better when it's me."

"When it's you what?"

"Oh, talking to Steve. You're here, so that's one. Steve's next."

"He's fine."

"Yeah, I know, I talked to Natasha."

Steve, aside from his initial texts and one extremely brief phone call as he left the hospital the previous day (which boiled down to, "You're not dead? Good, me either. Laters."), had been adamantly refusing to answer his phone. Which was ... irritating. Darcy couldn't really begin to comprehend what he was going through, but as much as she'd love to let him process, shit was so far beyond real it wasn't funny.

"Anyway, I need to hit the shower and jet, but Pepper should be down in a couple minutes. Help yourself to coffee." Darcy shuffled out of the kitchen, but, struck by a thought, turned around at the door. "Oh, and, I know you and I have never talked about it, seeing as you kind of hate my guts, but I know you know I know Coulson's alive. Just a heads-up -- I told Clint, who is now pretty pissed. So, hey, enjoy that as much as I have. And, then I told Tony and Bruce. But, Tony told Pepper, so that one's not on me."

Hill closed her eyes and when she opened them again, her jaw was set in a hard line. "Why would you do that?"

"One, I try not to lie to Tony if I can help it. And, I'd been keeping this from him for a while and felt shitty about it. And, two, and frankly most importantly, I told them because the world's gone to hell, and there's like a handful of people we can trust. We need Phil."

Hill considered that for a moment and then, with a look on her face like she was about to really regret something, she asked, "Have you talked to him?"

"No. I talked to one of his team, but they've fallen off the grid again." Darcy frowned and tried not to worry. "They were at the Hub."

"Is the Hub secure?"

Darcy shrugged. "I don't know. It was, but now? What's secure, anyway? I'm at the point where the only way I'll believe a place is secure is if it's smoking rubble."

Hill's eyebrow ticked up and something flickered across her face, something almost like respect, or at least something slightly better than disdain. "What's your deal with Stark?"

"He's my dad." She lobbed that little bomb at Hill and cocked her head, curious as to how the other woman would react.

Hill stared at her for a second before dropping her head back and laughing. Laughing a lot. Like gales of laughter. Or even, maybe more accurately, a hurricane of hilarity. That was definitely not a response Darcy was expecting. She'd never even seen Hill smile before, so laughter was straight up terrifying.

"Sweet Jesus, that is the best thing I've heard in a long time," Hill managed, gasping for breath. "God, no wonder Phil was so insistent. He's always had a knack for bringing home the biggest pains in the ass." She started laughing again. "And that explains Fury's mood when he ordered me to go pick you up in Jersey." She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and smirked. "Thanks for that."

Frowning at her skeptically, Darcy shrugged. "Yeah, sure, no problem. I'm gonna--" she pointed over her shoulder and inched out the door.

"Good luck with Rogers," Hill called after her, sounding all the world like she thought Darcy would have anything but, and like that was almost as funny as the whole Tony being her dad thing.

Of all the ways Darcy might have ever considered Hill would warm up to her, honest to God, she never would have put 'being a Stark' on that list. Definitely not after listening to one or two of the Deputy Director's paint-peeling rants about Tony. Weird. Just really damned weird.

***

Steve wasn't at his apartment. Which, given the bullet holes, broken furniture, blood-smeared floor, shredded upholstery, and crime scene tape, wasn't surprising. But, dodging the men in black suits was an unexpected little thrill she probably should have expected. That's what happens when your organization turns out to be a terrorist front, and then you decide to drive into the heart of the nation's capital and snoop around Captain America's shot-up apartment building. Not that anybody was likely to look at Darcy and think, 'oh my god, she's a secret agent! Quick, arrest her!' Still ...

She heard him coming, took a glance down the hallway, decided there was no earthly way she was going to get out of this without being spotted, and tried to adopt a look of innocent curiosity. It was such a rookie thing; Natasha was going to kill her.

"You're not supposed to be on this floor, miss," the black-suited g-man growled as he stepped onto the floor and put a hand on his hip, just inside his jacket front. Not quite reaching for his gun, but making the point that he had it.

"Oh," Darcy feigned surprise and clapped a hand to her mouth, going for an expression somewhere between abashed and stupid. "I'm so sorry. I just ... the door was open, I was curious. It's a bad habit. I totally rubberneck on the freeway, too, and it drives my dad up the wall."

"Do you live in the building?"

"No. My roommate from college lives upstairs. I mean, she's not here right now," she added in a little giggle which might have been a step too far considering how the g-man's eyes narrowed.

So, plan B, then -- talk fast and talk a lot. Which, come to think of it, should usually just be her plan A.

"I was just going to surprise her. I got the weekend off, you know, so I figured I'd drive up. She just got this new job at some sort of think-tank, not really my thing; I intern with an astrophysicist, what the hell do I know from government stuff, right? Except when it's grant renewal time. But, anyway, it's super important to her, she's wanted this for so long, so I wanted to surprise her, but she's not in, and my cell phone totally died, and I left the charger at the hotel." She frowned and chewed at her lower lip. "I hope I left it at the hotel. Holy fu-- fudge, what am I going to do if I forgot it? Do you know how to get to the nearest Apple store? Like, there has to be one in DC, right? There has to be. Holy crap, how un-American would it be to not have an Apple store in DC?"

The g-man was squinting at her, like he couldn't quite figure out if he was being played or she really was that guileless. Darcy raised her eyebrows hopefully, and he sighed. "You need to leave the building if you're not a resident."

"Oh, yeah, of course," she told him, hoping she sounded appropriately chastised and willing to comply, and not like she was entirely desperate and thinking of throwing herself out the nearest window before he could realize he should ask for ID from the strange chick wandering around his crime scene.

It seemed to work, though, because he glanced over his shoulder towards the stairs, and then back at her with another sigh. "My partner is out front, he's got an iPhone, he'll tell you how to get to the store. It's not far from here; just off M Street, I think."

"You are the best," Darcy enthused with a thumbs up. "No, you sir, are totally the best. Thank you so much. Hey, I don't suppose I could leave a message for my friend with you could I?" His glower returned and she smiled and clicked her fingers at him. "No. Got it. No problem. Sorry. Have an awesome day."

And then she tried to run without looking like she was actually running.

Back in her car, she pulled up the GPS and the address she'd entered earlier. It's not like Captain America could just entirely drop off the grid. If nothing else, Tony had given him a Starkphone and Darcy could track that. So far she'd held off, because Steve got fussy about being electronically stalked. But she had other options, and she had footage. A lot of footage. Plenty of it came from SHEILD security video, but she'd picked up a good chunk from local news, too. Lots of maybe not so clear, but still distinguishable, shots of Steve with a guy flying around with mechanical wings. Those were not something you could pick up at Army Navy surplus, and from there it wasn't terribly hard to come up with the name Sam Wilson.

Slipping into that magical traffic lull right before lunch hour, it was a relatively quick jaunt across the river to Arlington where Sam Wilson had a small house in an older suburb. It seemed like a nice place -- quiet neighborhood, lots of trees, handful of kids and dogs. Nice. Unassuming. A perfect place for Steve to lay low.

The Feds had already tried to summon him before one of the Defense hearings, but the buzz around town and on the news said that somebody somewhere wised-up and pointed out that a) he was Captain America, and b) he'd just saved twenty million lives and maybe that wasn't a can of worms anybody wanted to open up. Nobody's reelection campaign was going to be helped by trying to sweat Captain Rogers.

Tapping on the steering wheel, Darcy stared at the house and thought about Steve, what he was going through. Should she give him space? Probably. Would her dad give him space? Absolutely not. But the truth was that Tony was right, and they needed Steve. So, what was she going to do? Drive all the way back to New York and tell her dad she hadn't even bothered to talk to him? Oh, hell no.

Steve opened the door on the sixth knock, just when Darcy's knuckles were starting to smart and she was reminding herself that this wasn't Steve's place, so kicking the door was probably not polite.

"Darcy?" He frowned, leaned forward a little to peer over her head, up and down the street, before stepping back, firmly blocking the doorway.

"What? You thought I brought backup?" She scoffed and raised her eyebrows at him. "Just me."

Steve's frown deepened. "How did you find me?"

"Was it a secret?" It was Darcy's turn to frown. There was a cut still healing on his cheek, and a couple bruises fading to ugly brown. Those must have been pretty nasty if they were still visible two days later. "The guy with the wings--"

"Sam."

"Yeah, well, the wings were kind of a give-away. And since your apartment is crawling with Feds, I thought I'd try here."

"Did they see you?" He asked, or demanded really. His voice was tense and he looked profoundly unhappy with the thought.

She ignored him. The answer was 'yes', of course, but since it wasn't relevant because it wasn't like she jumped up and shouted 'look at me, I'm a SHIELD agent', it wasn't worth getting into it. "Are we seriously going to do this out here?"

He gave her a sharp look, eyes narrowed, and crossed his arms over his chest. In most guys his size that might have been an attempt to intimidate, but with Steve it was a posture of discomfort and defensiveness.

"You shouldn't be here," he grumbled. "It was dangerous to come to DC, you could be arrested."

"Right, because I scream black ops. Look, not that I'm not loving the warm welcome here -- a-plus, dude -- but I'm on a mission." When he stiffened up ridiculously at that, she rolled her eyes. "From my dad."

"You're wanted for questioning. I saw the list," he pressed, clearly not in the mood to be waylaid.

But she just shrugged, not terribly bothered. Her name was way the hell down the list, and she was sure she only made the cut because she technically reported to Fury. Not that they ever really spent any time together or chatted or really had much to do with each other, outside of him banning her from the Triskelion and her sending him occasional email updates. She really wouldn't have much to tell a committee. "I know, I've seen it, too."

"With the way things went, and with your position--"

"Steve," she cut him off. "I know it's easy to forget, because it doesn't come up all that often, so I don't get a chance to break out these mad skills, but I do have a degree in political science. I know how this shit works. I appreciate the concern, but it's fine."

Where fine meant hanging out in the Tower as she figured out what her statement to the DOJ would entail. And also more entertainingly fine, where it meant her father and Pepper were working on a deal where Stark Industries agreed not to sue the ever-loving hell out of the federal government for misuse of proprietary technology and breech of contract, in exchange for SI's cooperation in the investigations and a sort of blanket immunity from prosecution for certain ranking SHIELD agents (and maybe one who wasn't quite so ranked).

The legal situation was still in its early days, but with Senator Stern's outing as a Hydra infiltrator -- her dad had been both overjoyed and enraged and confused about that weird mix of emotions -- Tony was almost begging somebody to say something stupid to him about his tech being used. He had team of lawyers baying for blood and a solid dozen sound bites ready to go, ranging from a mild 'bite me', to a much more pointed 'they murdered my parents, fuck you'.

Biting his lower lip, Steve gazed back over her head and shifted in the doorway. "Still, you ought to go back to New York."

Darcy shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and took her own glance around the neighborhood. "Nat told me about Bucky."

"I'm gonna find him," he said quickly, like he was almost expecting her to challenge him on that, as if she'd tell him it was a bad idea or something. It might have offended her, except she could only imagine how raw that wound felt to him right now.

"I don't doubt it." She nodded and chanced a look up at his face. He looked grim and tired. "If you need help, or--"

"No. Don't go looking for him," he ordered and she bristled. "He's dangerous and he doesn't remember."

"Natasha said that, too. I wasn't planning on beating actual bushes, Steve," she replied through gritted teeth. "Just digital ones. But, fine."

"Hydra--"

"I got it, Steve," she sighed. "So, Tony wants to know if you're in. He's gathering all the little SHIELD agents up like baby ducklings. He's got some idea about privatizing global intelligence. Hill turned up this morning."

"Now is really not the time, Darcy," Steve told her, voice tight with ... something she couldn't identify. Sadness, worry, fear, desperation, irritation? All of the above?

"For my dad's next attempt at world domination? Or for asking you if you want to join the fun?" She was starting to feel wound a little tightly herself, and her words came out sharper than she'd intended.

"You need to go back to New York."

It wasn't usually this difficult to talk to Steve. It wasn't usually this difficult to get him to talk to her. She couldn't help but feel stung.

"Right, okay, sweet kiss off, Steve. Big fan." Taking a deep breath she stepped back. "Call if you need something."

Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath. "Darce--"

"Nah, I get it. You're going through some heavy shit," she shook her head, feeling tired again. This was all just such a big ball of horrible, and three solid days of crazy were wearing her down. But, it wasn't Steve's fault, so she tried to put a check on her temper. "I'll leave you alone. Can't promise Tony will do the same, but I'll try to hold him off."

She stepped away from him, spun on her heel, took two steps and ran square into a tall, stupidly attractive black guy. The universe was obviously determined that she be surrounded at all times by pretty men. Ridiculous universe, but who was she to complain?

Blinking up at him, Darcy forced a smile onto her face. "You must be Sam."

"Uh, hi," he said, shifting the bags of groceries in his hands as he glanced over at Steve. "And you must be ... somebody I don't know at all. Sorry."

Steve cleared his throat behind her. "Sam, this is Darcy, she's a friend. Darcy, Sam Wilson."

"That was nice work at the Triskelion," she told him. "Love the wings."

He grinned broadly and nodded. "Thanks. Were you, uh ..." he waved a grocery bag vaguely in the direction of DC.

"No, I was in New York, where we had lots of our own fun. And, apparently, the place I should be getting back to." She stuck out her hand for Sam to shake. "It was great to meet you, Sam. Don't let him be too much of a pain in the ass."

Sam laughed, surprised but amused, and put down a couple of the bags to gave her a firm shake. "Man, how much of a pain can Captain America be?"

"Says the guy who just helped him blow up three helicarriers." She flashed Sam another quick smile, then called back to Steve without turning around. "Later, Steve."

"Darce, wait a second," Steve called back, sounding subdued.

The weight of everything sat heavily on her shoulders. She didn't like the weight, didn't like feeling so burdened with responsibility. She wasn't going to shrug it off, but damn if she didn't miss the quiet, boring afternoons in Puente Antiguo, where her biggest tasks were organizing Jane's papers and hiding Jane's pen caps. Growing up sucked, and then shit blew up.

"It's fine, Steve. I get it." She turned back to face him and held a hand up, showing him everything was chill. And then suddenly it wasn't. "I mean, everything's gone to hell. Hydra's back. SHIELD's gone. I'm not entirely confident that my dad's not about to try to take over the world." The words just started spilling and wouldn't stop. And maybe she didn't entirely want them to. Maybe she just needed to get this all out. Like lancing a boil or something less gross.

"Coulson's dropped off the grid again," she started waving her arms around a little as she was pulled along the riptide of crazy emotional outbursts. "I'm assuming he's alive, but hey, what do I know? I found out my grandparents were murdered. Fury's dead and Hill still looks like she smells something nasty every time she sees me. Though, apparently finding out dad is, you know, my dad, was some weird bonding moment for us. I might be more freaked out about that than anything else. I could really use a talk with Natasha, but she's apparently gone off to find herself, or whatever. The government thinks I'm possibly a terrorist. Upside to that, though," she glanced at him long enough to point a finger, "Thor's offered me sanctuary on Asgard. Jane says it's awesome there. I'm not too sure about Odin's hospitality, though." She tilted her head up to the sky. "No offense, Heimdall, dude."

Sam's eyes were wide and he kept darting looks between her and Steve. Like, 'how is this happening on my lawn, and why?'

And, apparently, she just wasn't done yet. "A guy I trained with tried to shoot me in the head. Clint shot him. Then I shot another guy. And then a lot of people I worked with tried to shoot the both of us. And after all of that, Clint yelled at me for not telling him Coulson's alive. He's still mad, and hasn't really talked to me since Wednesday. Did I mention dad? And like I've had no sleep. And my best friend is totally blowing me off right now. It's an awesome day. Just awesome." She sucked in a deep breath and locked both hands behind her head, before dropping them limply to her side. "And in about five minutes I'm going to feel like shit about that whole info dump there. So, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry about that. You don't deserve that, but damn it."

"Darcy," Steve said, voice low and even.

"No, don't. Seriously, it's fine. We're all going through this. And, geez Steve, I don't know whether I'm heartbroken for you or thrilled for you about Bucky." She choked on the words and shook her head. "What a goddamned mess."

"Darce," he pleaded again, an edge of worry to his voice. It was a tone she knew, one that warned her not to look back up at him. Danger. Danger.

Darcy looked over at Sam who had his lips pursed and probably wished he was almost anywhere else in the world. "Is he giving me puppy eyes?"

Sam snorted a laugh, but dutifully glanced over at Steve and then back to her with a small, regretful nod. "Little puppy-eyed."

"You know I can't take that, Steve." Shaking her head at Sam and begging for his sympathy with her lot, she told him, "It's my weakness. They've all learned how to work me. Natasha's the only one who can't effectively manage it."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, looking like he was trying and failing to picture that. "Can't really see her bringing it with the puppy look."

"Not that she needs to, she's got that whole stare into your soul thing going." Darcy took a deep breath, chanced a quick glance at Steve, who's puppy face was edging into downright glum. Grimacing, she threw a small wave his way and looked around, before settling on admiring Sam's driveway. "Hey, look, I'm gonna go. Dad's message has been delivered, though, really, you should probably just expect a visit."

"I'm sorry," Steve said.

"I'm sorry, too. I don't think you truly have any idea what he's like when he's determined. Remember this is a guy who had heart surgery in a cave and then stood up to build himself a flying suit of armor."

Sam was staring at her again, his brow furrowed, expression utterly baffled. Darcy shrugged. She was getting used to people knowing, and it got easier with time. It helped that the people who knew mostly didn't give a crap. And if Steve was hanging out with him, then Sam was no doubt a decent guy. "Yeah, him."

"Okay," Sam said slowly and then seemed to brush it off with a quirk of his lips. "I've got Captain America bunking on my couch, so, what the hell, right?"

"I like you, Sam," Darcy laughed. "I've had good luck with Sams, you know? My brother's a Sam. Solid name." She clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of new friendship. "So, Steve, find Bucky. Call if you need anything."

"Yes, ma'am," he promised quietly.

Sam waved at her as she drove away, and she found herself relieved that Steve, at least, wasn't choosing to wallow alone. Though, as she'd predicted, when she played her meeting with him over in her head, she winced at her little rant, and started to feel like crap about the whole thing. Those were clearly things she needed to get off her chest, but, geez, time and place, Lewis? You suck.

In no rush, and with no particular place to be, she took the long way around Arlington National Cemetery, avoiding Pentagon City for the slightly more quiet and tree lined scenic route. Finding a place to pull off near the memorial park, she just sat for several minutes considering her next move. Going back to Tony empty-handed was not optimal, though it wasn't like he was going to ground her or something. He'd just grouse and grump, nothing she wasn't used to handling. She just ... wasn't quite ready to face that yet.

She looked out towards the cemetery, where just over the wall and past the boundary trees and foliage, she could see the rows of gleaming headstones on their smooth fields of green. How many of Steve's friends were laying in there right now, she wondered. Poor bastard, he really didn't deserve her issues.

After another minute or two of quiet, her phone chimed, then chimed again, and then a third time before she could even dig it out of her bag. She hesitated when she saw the string of texts from Steve, but chastised herself as a coward and opened the message app.

> Don't ever apologize to me for hurting.

> Please don't think your pain or problems are less important than mine.

> Remember, I'm the guy who wants to know how Darcy Lewis is doing.

> I'm sorry I wasn't that guy today.

> If you want to come back, we can talk.

He was a ridiculous, ridiculous person, and she regretted that she didn't take the opportunity to hug him. It was absolutely impossible to stay frustrated with him or the situation.

> Rain check? I really do need to get back to try and keep dad from taking over the world. Try not to fall off any more helicarriers.

> Yes, ma'am. Sam's a flier.

Darcy snorted at that and shook her head.

> Good. Dad needs all the help he can get to keep Clint from plummeting to his death.

> LOL. Should we get Barton wings?

Steve using 'lol' ... the unreal, awkward sweetness of that was almost too much for her and she had to stop for a second and shake off her snickering before she could reply.

> He'd probably just bitch about them throwing off his aim. Better get Sam used to catching him. Stay safe, Cap.

> You, too, Darcy.

Dropping her phone back into her bag, she considered the long drive back to New York. She could have flown down, of course, but she really needed some quiet time and the excuse of tracking Steve down in DC afforded that. Still, she wasn't eager to head back just yet. And, as she'd told Steve, people tended to forget she had a poli-sci degree and she was in the nation's capital. No hurry, right? A trip to the National Mall was definitely in order. A green summer's day, solemn yet beautiful national landmarks -- just what she needed to forget for a while that the world was teetering, and maybe a little something to restore a bit of hope that things might still turn out okay.

Pulling the car back onto the road, she drove down to Arlington Memorial Bridge, and as she started across, she noticed street light banners advertising the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian. Tony had donated or loaned a lot of the things Howard had collected over the war years, but she hadn't been yet. The night of the exhibit's fancy opening soiree, she'd opted to stay in to watch Game of Thrones with Thor (way more fun).

Howard's name had come up a lot in the last few days -- even beyond Tony predicting zombie Howard's return. And as she looked up at the Cap banner, Darcy had a sudden, intense longing to commune with her grandfather through the relics he'd felt were important enough to keep for all those decades. Funny how he could be gone for so long, since before she was born, and he still had an undeniable pull on her life.

Once at the museum, she let herself drift aimlessly and leisurely through the crowds. She looked at the pictures she'd seen before, read the stories she'd heard before, grinned at little Steve looking so fierce and determined, and gave a nod of respect to the Howling Commandos. Pausing in her rounds, she raised an eyebrow at the suspiciously crispy looking uniform on the Cap mannequin. Well, at least somebody'd washed the blood off.

Finishing her tour at the memorial wall for James Buchanan Barnes, she stared at the grainy, sepia photo. Steve's best friend since they were boys, Steve's brother. She'd complained to her dad about how often Steve compared her to Bucky, but in truth, it didn't bother her that much, there was no real heat in her complaints. She could never replace Bucky, but knowing that she could give Steve back a little of something that was missing, and that he thought enough of their friendship that he could see Bucky in her -- that meant a lot.

Standing there, she felt an odd sort of kinship to the man.

"I'm no you, buddy, but I've tried my best," she murmured to the photo.

The man next to her shifted. Darcy heard the shuffling of his feet, the rustle of his clothes, saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't paid much attention to him when she walked up, and, once again, Natasha would kick her ass. She was so off her game today. Now that she was looking, he was dressed ... wrong. It was a warm day, but he was wearing multiple layers, gloves, and a heavy, loose jacket. There was a baseball cap pulled down low over his face, thick scruff on his jaw, and his long, lank hair brushed his shoulders.

He shifted again, but didn't move away -- it was the movement of somebody preparing for something.

Sliding her hand into her bag to grab her taser, in case the guy was about to go mad bomber, she casually turned away from the display, letting herself get a good look at him as she did. And halfway around, when her eyes met his, she froze.

"Well ... fuck me," she groaned, while he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. His very, very frosty, and frankly terrifying, eyes.

He darted a look past her, evaluating, calculating, measuring the other people around.

Darcy felt the sick tension creeping up her neck. This seemed like one of those don't startle the wild animal moments. Of course, she'd already made the mistake of making eye contact -- was that a mistake? The rule was look tigers in the eye, but not mountain lions, right? Or was it the other way around? Girl Scouts was so long ago. Which one was he, anyway? Dangerous enough it didn't matter, probably.

Licking her lips nervously, she drew her empty hand out of her bag, and let her arms fall loose at her side, a gesture of 'look how not threatening I am!', and turned back to face the memorial display. She didn't really need to look at the picture to confirm who was standing next to her.

"So, I feel like this is awkward," she muttered to Bucky Freaking Barnes.

He didn't move, didn't speak, just watched her with coldly glittering eyes. So, so, damned cold. If he killed her, she hoped the universe, or God, or whomever, would note that she had not gone looking for him. She'd never had any intention of looking for him. She'd taken Natasha very seriously when the other woman told her he was dangerous. Natasha didn't spook easily, but Darcy'd heard the tension in her voice when she mentioned the Winter Soldier -- Darcy wasn't stupid and 'stay away from things that scared Natasha' was not a lesson she needed to learn the hard way.

They stayed locked in their weird not-moving bubble. Tourists flowed around them, children darted in front of them, and Darcy's mind whirled as she tried to come up with something resembling a game plan. A myth from the old days, Nat called him, but while she supposed he looked a little bit older, maybe, it was only a few years. She knew that Zola had held him for a while before Steve staged his first one-man mission and freed Bucky and a zillion other allied prisoners from a Hydra camp. But, then he fell from a train, presumably to his death. Obviously not entirely dead. Hydra found him, made him something else.

Steve said Bucky didn't remember, but there must be something left, or he wouldn't be here of all places.

"I'm Darcy," she said, voice low. "Darcy ... Stark." She wasn't entirely sure why she said that. On the one hand, it could simply be she wasn't super comfortable telling a Hydra assassin her last name, on the other though, there was also a part of her that may have hoped for some shred of recognition.

It worked. Maybe. His eyes flicked away from her to another wall, another picture -- her grandfather grinning stupidly next to his plane. Whether Bucky actually remembered or had, you know, just read the info card, she couldn't say. And, wow, it was weird to call this guy Bucky, even if it was just in her head.

"Yep," she confirmed.

His eyes flicked again over to a photo of little Steve in his army uniform. "I knew him." Side-eyeing her again, he seemed to be waiting for her response, for confirmation, maybe.

"Yeah, you knew him," she told him.

"He was my ... friend."

"He'll always be your friend." He frowned and puzzled over that. "He's looking for you."

Bucky turned his head to look at her more directly. "No."

"Uh, yeah, you try telling him that."

He took a step towards her, well within 'murdering her with his bare hands' range. That she didn't run screaming was such a feather in her cap, because holy crap did she want to.

"He can help you," she tried, surprised at how calm her own voice was. "He wants to help you."

"You'll tell him where I am?" His voice was low, harsh, but there was something else in it -- exhaustion, maybe.

"Uh ...," she started, searching for the right answer. He shifted suddenly, tensing up even more, but his gaze wasn't on her. He was looking over her shoulder. She turned her head slightly to follow his line of sight to the security guard, who appeared to be wondering if she needed rescuing from the creepy guy. Well, this was going to go badly.

"Look," she said in a rush, "let's go outside and talk."

"You'll tell him," he repeated.

"I'm really getting the feeling you don't want me to."

"No."

"Okay," she replied slowly, then took her own glance around the room and silently counted all the innocent people around them. A lot, was the total. "Really, let's go outside and stop making the nice security guard nervous."

Bucky turned away slightly, ducking his head and watching the guard from under the brim of his cap.

"Please," Darcy pleaded quietly. He considered her for a moment before giving her a sharp half nod.

"I'll go first," he said with an odd twist to his lips, "don't want to make the nice security guard worry."

"Oh, hey, that was nearly a joke. I like it." She forced a grin and hoped it looked natural, or at least sort of natural. "Where do you want to--"

"I'll find you," he cut her off. Shrugging his shoulders, hiking the jacket up higher around his ears, he left, disappearing into the tourist throng.

Darcy took a moment to let the adrenaline rush from the encounter wear off a little bit, and to let her heart-rate return to something like normal. That was ... not at all what she was hoping for when she came to the museum. Jesus, her life. What the hell.

"Miss?" Darcy jumped at the unexpected voice behind her, and turning, she dredged up a smile for the security guard. "Are you okay? That guy--"

"I'm fine," she promised him. "Thanks. A friend of a friend, I so did not expect to see him here. Small world, right? Super weird."

"Okay," he said, though he still looked uncertain.

"Hey, but really, thanks. Good looking out. I appreciate that," she found a brighter smile, hopefully a more reassuring one. And since Bucky and his unibomber outfit had taken off, she hoped it would be enough for the guard to drop it.

He relaxed a little, smiling back. "No problem."

Darcy moved around the exhibit for another couple minutes before she left. Outside she found an unoccupied bench off to the side of the lawn, partially blocked from the street and main walkway by some shrubs and trees, and waited. He made her wait a good five minutes, and she very seriously doubted it was because he had trouble finding her.

"Did you tell him?" Bucky asked as he sat down on the bench next to her, his eyes moving restlessly over passersby and visitors.

"Not yet," she said. And then she wondered at her own sanity. The smart thing would have been to call Steve immediately. But ... but Bucky was talking to her, and not running, and she thought maybe if she could keep that up ... well, that was as far as her planning had gotten, actually. If you could even call it a plan.

Somewhere in her head there was a question knocking around ... 'what would Steve do?' Well, Steve would help him. Steve would give Bucky whatever he needed. So ... if he didn't want to talk to Steve, then she'd just have to be Steve's stand-in. Steve's stand-in for his best friend who'd been turned into a terrifying Hydra assassin. What was wrong with her brain? Stupid, stupid brain.

"Don't."

It took her half a second to pull her mind back around to what they'd even been talking about. Yes, Lewis, let your mind wander around the assassin. Seriously, did she learn nothing from Natasha? Natasha could not ever know about today. Never ever. Lord.

"Okay, but I am going to have to tell him at some point. I've already got my ass chewed this week for keeping secrets. It wasn't fun."

"A day," he said.

"God," she groaned. "Steve is going to be so pissed."

"A day," he said again, more firmly.

"Yeah, a day. Twenty-four hours. I swear."

Bucky slumped back against the bench and stared blankly ahead.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked, curiosity finally and thankfully getting the better of her nerves.

"Yes. No." He waved a hand, almost like he was sorry to be so vague. "The woman ... who was she?"

"Red head?"

"Yes."

"Natasha Romanov. Do you know her? She knew you."

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know."

"We can help you. Steve can. I can."

"No," he snapped.

"Okay, okay," Darcy relented. She rubbed at her bottom lip and watched him out of the corner of her eye. "So what are you going to do?"

"Find answers. They had me. They did things. I don't remember."

"Hydra."

His lips thinned and he glanced back over at her. "I fought them once, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you kicked their asses back in the day."

"Then they made me something else." He said, an edge of bitterness in his voice and Darcy grimaced. He pulled his left hand out of his coat pocket, pulled off the glove he wore, and showed her his clenched metal fist.

"Holy crap," she breathed out in a whisper. He stretched the hand out, moving his fingers, and the lunatic Stark part of her brain overwhelmed the rational part. Reaching for the hand, she took it in her own. He seemed surprised, but didn't pull back. "That's crazy good articulation for a prosthetic. Is it just the hand, or ..."

"To my shoulder."

"Wow." She pushed her glasses up her nose and bent closer. She turned the hand over in hers, ran her fingers along his, poked gently at the palm, and felt the odd give of warm metal. "This is not just a prosthetic."

"No."

"Huh," she glanced up at his blank face. "How long have you had it?"

"I don't know. I remember ... pain? Falling and then pain."

"Huh," she said again, frowning. Hydra'd been pretty advanced, but even with that, the hand was not WWII tech. No way. It had to have been upgraded over the years. Her dad would go nuts to have a look at this. And then she glanced up at Bucky again, and took in the lost, empty look in his eyes. Releasing his hand, she sat back. Yeah, okay, the arm was cool, but it was attached to a guy who'd apparently been through some sort of hell. Trauma first; science project later.

"You're not afraid of me," he commented.

"I guess not. Should I be?" It was a serious question. Sitting with him now, she honestly didn't know. So far he'd been more sadly adrift than terrifying myth, but she knew that could change in an instant. How likely that sudden shift might be, she really, really couldn't say. But she had to hope, for his sake if nothing else, that he was more Bucky than the Winter Soldier at the moment.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Yeah, neither do I." She stared out over the lawn. "What do you need?"

"What?"

"You want answers, so how can I help you get them?"

He narrowed his eyes, considering her closely, looking like he was waiting for a trap or something. "You'd help me?"

"Steve would help you," she told him, "but since you don't want that, I'll do it."

"Steve."

"Your best friend. Steve Rogers. He could be here in like thirty minutes."

"No."

"Okay," she shrugged again. "I'm sure this is confusing as hell."

He grunted and stuffed his hand back in his pocket as a family wandered by.

"So, what do you need?" She asked again. "Bearing in mind that in 24 hours, I am going to have to face a profoundly disappointed Captain America. You probably don't remember Steve's disappointed face, but let me assure you, it sucks."

"So why help me?"

"Because you're his best friend and if helping you get the answers you need brings you home, then I'll take the hit."

"You're his friend."

"Yes, I am."

He nodded and stared thoughtfully at her. "He likes brunettes," he said suddenly.

Darcy laughed. "Of all the things to remember. Well, apparently, I'm a little too Bucky." He frowned, confused. "He says I remind him of you. Which is flattering, because he admires you and he's missed you. I'm glad I could be his friend, you know? Though, it's been kind of a painful reminder to him, too."

He took that in and glanced around at the lawn, the flower beds, the trees, the tourists.

"But, hey," she said after a moment. "Poor stand-in that I may be, us Buckys have to stick together. So, what do you need?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, ducking his head as another clump of tourists strolled by.

"Do you need cash?"

"I don't know."

Darcy let out a long breath and rolled her eyes. "Dudes, seriously." She dug through her bag for her wallet and then shoved her bag into his chest. "Hold this."

Standing up, she smirked at his baffled frown. "I'm going to go get you some money. Wait here. I'm leaving that with you, because I don't think Bucky's the kind of guy to steal a lady's purse."

His mouth did something strange and it took her a second to realize he was trying to smile. "You're a lady?"

Darcy snorted, surprised into laughter. "And don't forget it, Barnes."

Hitting the line of ATMs near the gift shop, Darcy pulled as much cash as they'd let her, and figuring she was courting a fraud alert, pocketed a few bills for gas and lunch -- talking down assassins was hungry work, and she didn't think he'd be down by a trip to the bank.

As she walked back out to find him, she wondered again just what the hell she was doing. She could tell he was dangerous. Jesus, you just had to look at his eyes for half a second to tell that. She should have called Steve before she'd even left the exhibit, and she should have called him rather than make a stop at the ATMs, and she should have called Steve every second she wasn't in Bucky's sight.

But ... she had a thing about trust and she'd given Bucky her word. Damn her mouth. Still, he hadn't run yet, and she felt like there was something to work with. Some tiny spark of hope. And calling Steve would burn that bridge with Bucky, making her somebody he couldn't trust. Steve was going to be pissed, and Clint was going to give her all the hell, and if he ever trusted her again it would be a damned miracle.

Letting out a long breath, she began the trek back to Bucky. Secrets blew. But, it felt worth it when she spotted him still on the bench, still clutching her bag to his chest.

"Did you tell him?" Bucky asked as she stepped up to him, his eyes were narrowed and frosty again.

"No. I told you I wouldn't. We agreed on a day," she said evenly. If she had an issue about trust, he probably had whole subscriptions on the subject.

He looked like he wasn't sure he believed her, so she just rolled her eyes again and handed him a wad of cash. "It's not much, but it's something. And I figure you're probably pretty resourceful."

He dropped the bag to the bench next to him and reached for the money with his right hand, the left still buried in his pocket. He kept a questioning eye on her as he stuffed the money into his jacket, his forehead creased, like he was trying to remember something.

"Did we know each other?"

"No," she said, sitting back down next to him. "You were before my time. But, I've heard plenty of stories."

"My mission was to kill him," he told her. It sounded like a test, or a pointed reminder of what he'd become.

"I'm sure it was," she replied.

"Her, too."

"Yeah." He continued to stare, his cold thousand-yard stare that was both creepy as fuck and heartbreaking as hell. "What? Do you want me to hate you?"

His gaze broke and he looked away. "You should. I think I did awful things."

"For Hydra, no less," she agreed with a grim smile.

"Yes."

Darcy sucked in a deep breath and slumped back on the bench, staring up at the gray-blue sky. "I'm sorry you have to carry that. You didn't deserve that."

Blinking slowly he looked over at her, and she lowered her head to look back. "I don't remember. I feel like I should." He fisted his right hand and pressed it to his forehead, frustrated and broken.

"I'm sure you will," she said quietly. "And I'm sure that day will be epically terrible. I'm sorry for that, too."

"You should be afraid of me," he ground out, his voice raw and choked.

"I'm sure that once this all hits me, I'm going to have a nice little freak out. And then I'll get to drown in all the disappointment and disapproval." She took a chance and leaned over enough to bump his shoulder with her own. "Just do me a favor, huh? Remember who fell on that grenade for you."

His mouth twitched and he looked up at her from under the brim of his cap. "Darcy Stark."

"Yeah."

"Like Howard?"

"He was my grandfather. Do you remember him?"

"I don't know." He glanced over his shoulder back towards the museum and nodded his head. "The exhibit."

"Right. I didn't know him. Hydra murdered him and my grandmother before I was born."

That hit him hard. His face went pale and he turned stricken, startlingly blue eyes back to her. "Did I--?"

The thought had crossed her mind. They hadn't found an unredacted version of the kill order yet, though. "I don't know."

"You should hate me." He sounded and looked just as miserable as a person could possibly be.

"You're Bucky Barnes," she reminded him. "I really can't."

"I'm the Winter Soldier," he corrected.

"Okay, and underneath that you are James Buchanan Barnes. I'll stick with hating Hydra," she told him, firming up her mouth and raising her chin almost defiantly. "I'll hate them for murdering my grandparents. I'll hate them for destroying SHIELD. I'll hate them for being evil Nazi fucks. And I'll hate them for what they did to you." He looked away from her again. "You might not totally be Bucky, but you're not totally the Winter Soldier, either. So, whoever you are now, unless you try to kill me or my friends again, I won't hate you. I can't hate you."

"I could kill you now." It was more observation than threat, and Darcy didn't flinch.

"I spend my days with people who could kill me. But, I know the difference between 'can' and 'will'."

"You don't know me," he argued back and she sighed.

"But, I do know you." She sat forward, bending towards him a little, trying to peer under the brim of his cap. "I know you from a million stories Steve tells. From when you were kids together, to the things you did in the war. I do know you. If you weren't at least a little bit Bucky you wouldn't be here."

God help her, he stuck his lower lip out slightly and stared down at the ground, his blue eyes mournful. Oh, he was dangerous alright. Dangerous to her god damned sanity. Or what was left of it. "I don't know who I am."

"You're Bucky Barnes buried under a shit ton of terrible experiences I can't even begin to imagine," she told him firmly. Damn it, she would keep telling him his own name until he believed her.

"What if they call me back?" He asked in a small voice.

"Holy crap," she exclaimed, eyes widening, frigid horror shooting down her spine at the thought. "Don't go. Holy crap, don't go."

"What if I can't help it? Why did I keep going back?"

"I don't know. I don't know what they did to you."

"They'd steal me."

"Jesus," she moaned. Running a hand over her forehead, she thought quickly. "Don't go back. Whatever happens, please, don't go back. Call Steve, ... no, off the table, right. So, call me. Call me, please. Let us ... let me help you. I don't know how, but, there's gotta be a way. Let me stop you." Snatching up her bag, she dug around inside for a pen and pad of paper, then scrawled her number on the pad and shoved the whole thing at him. "Please. I'll give you your day. But, don't go back to them." The idea that he might was enough to, honest to God, bring tears to her eyes.

Slowly he reached up and plucked the note pad from her fingers. He stared at the number for a moment before tucking it into his jacket. "I'll try," he told her with a weary shrug.

"You could come with me," she suggested, knowing it would be shot down, but she had to try. And, sure enough, he gave her a dark look. "Okay, okay. Just a thought. A thought I will stop having out loud. Consider it a standing invitation, though. Manhattan, Avengers Tower, you can't miss it. Or, you know, call me, whenever. And ... dropping it now."

He drew in a deep breath and stood. "A day."

"24 hours, starting now."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Thank you."

"Can I give you a ride anywhere?"

"No."

He stared down at her, like he was trying to see something in her face. And for the briefest of moments there was a flicker in his eyes, a tiny there-and-gone spark, and Darcy thought, for just a second, she'd caught a glimpse of the man he'd been.

Then he walked away and Darcy watched him go. Eventually, when she lost him in the crowd and the trees, she took her own deep breath and stood and headed back to her car, mind blank of anything but the little bit of him she thought, she hoped, she'd seen.

***

"So ... I saw Bucky." Darcy'd spent the day anxiously watching the clock. Wishing time would speed up so she could get this over with, and wishing it would slow down, so she wouldn't have to face what was sure to be painful.

Steve sucked in a sharp breath on the other end of the line. "I told you not to go looking for him." His disappointment echoed across the connection and his voice was far more Cap than Steve.

"I didn't look for him," Darcy grumbled back. "I ran into him, because the universe laughs in my general direction."

"When? I can be there in a few hours."

She winced at the spike of hope in his voice and chewed on her lower lip. "Yesterday?" She said carefully. "In DC."

Steve was silent for a terrible few seconds that felt like a lifetime of condemnation for her poor judgement. "I don't understand," he said at last, sounding actually confused. "Why didn't you call me? I mean, I know you were mad at me, Darcy, but--"

"Jesus, Steve," she spat, a new sort of disappointment stabbing at her. Closing her eyes she turned to lay back on the sofa. "Do you really think I'm that petty? Thanks a bunch, pal."

"Then why?" He demanded harshly.

"Because I promised him I wouldn't. He asked for a day, I gave it to him."

"You talked to him?" Steve's voice rose to a near shout and she winced. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

Crossing her feet at the ankle, she took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling. "I do, actually," she replied. "I also know that when I found him he was staring at a picture of himself in the Smithsonian."

"He was?" Steve's voice lost its edge and lifted up into something a little brighter. "Did he ... did he remember?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't think he does either. He's confused, Steve, really, really damned confused."

"You should have called me," he rumbled, irritation creeping back in. "Damn it, Darcy. I coulda been there in half an hour."

"I told him. I told him a bunch of times," she said quickly, defending herself with the only truth she had. "I told him I could call you, I told him you'd be there, that you'd help him. I swore to him that you were his best friend and you'd do anything for him. I swear to you, Steve, I told him. But ..." she groaned and shook her head. "He was going to rabbit. I could tell."

"You could have called me and not told him, you know," Steve argued back.

"And then I'd have been another person he couldn't trust. I gave him my word, Steve. Come on, you of all people know that means something."

"It used to."

She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose and let it out slowly. "That ... that was low."

"I'm sorry, but, Darcy--"

"He was going to run," she repeated, enunciating every word clearly, so that he'd get it through his stupid, stubborn, thick skull. "I talked to him, I saw it in his eyes. One hint of you and he was gone."

"You don't know that for sure."

"Oh, right, because the last time you two saw each other it didn't at all end up with you falling off a helicarrier into the river. Nope. What do you think was going to happen? He wasn't going to go with you."

He was silent for a long moment, but she could hear his harsh breathing on the other end. "Then you could have called me after he left. I'd have only been an hour behind him instead of a full day."

"You are not listening to me, Steve. I get that this is a horrible, sore spot for you." He made a sound almost like a growl and she ground her teeth. "I didn't do this to hurt you. He's ... God, he's lost. He's so lost, I could fucking cry. I wanted ..." She stopped herself and draped an arm over her eyes.

"I wanted to give him something that he could hold on to, even just some weird stranger being nice to him. Because, I don't think he's had that for a long, long time. I told him where to find me, I gave him my phone number, and please don't tell me how dangerous that was. I thought if he had somebody he felt he could trust, maybe he'd come back, maybe if he needs something he'll call, he'll know he has somewhere to go. He wouldn't talk to you, so I tried to be ... I tried to be his friend, for you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but, damn it, I was afraid he'd run, and God knows when he'd stop. I had to do something." She was rambling, she knew, and pleading, begging with him to understand.

"I don't like this," Steve grumbled. "Damn it, Darcy."

"I'm sorry," she tried again.

"Not sorry enough to call me. Better to beg forgiveness, right?"

That was a statement worthy of the best eye roll she could muster, she was only sorry he couldn't see it. "Your motto, right?"

"I have to go," he said shortly, not bothering to reply. "You know, teamwork is about--"

"Save it, Cap," she bit out. "I got the message." She disconnected the call before he could say anything else, and tossed the phone in the general direction of the coffee table. It missed, and she heard it thud heavily on the rug. Thank god for shag and her father's questionable design taste.

"So ... that sounded like a fun phone call."

Darcy lifted her arm enough to give Clint a baleful glare. "Lurk much, Barton?"

"It is in the job description," he smirked back and pushed off the wall, strolling over to perch on the edge of the couch near her feet.

"Gold star, then," she grunted and dropped her arm back over her eyes. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Probably a lot," he admitted. "I didn't actually mean to listen in, but you were a little loud there."

"I'm sure it won't shock you to learn that Steve is a stubborn ass."

Clint laughed and kicked at one of her feet. "When a stubborn ass meets a stubborn ass ..."

"Jerk," she mumbled.

He was quiet for a few seconds before he nudged her again. "You knew he'd be mad."

"Yeah."

"And you did it anyway."

Tensing, she drew her legs up, moving her feet away from him, and curled onto her side. She glanced over at him and then dropped her eyes to stare down at the rug. "Well, I am Fury Jr., right? I'm sure I had my reasons."

Clint winced and dropped down to sit in the space she'd cleared. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? Maybe I am," she mumbled into the couch cushion.

"Nah, Fury didn't trust anybody."

"And I trust everybody, including unstable assassins," she said, feeling petulant and, well, grumpy with everything now. Fighting with Steve sucked.

"Ah, don't be like that, Darce." He grabbed her foot and gave it a little shake. She tried to curl into a tighter ball, but he just chuckled and held on. "I think you're big on giving everybody a chance to have your trust. And, I think you just like collecting assassins, frankly."

Pressing her lips together, she tried to hide her smile, but when he squeezed her big toe, she laughed and kicked out at him, pushing herself up to sit with her feet safely tucked to the other side.

"My mom always says everybody needs a hobby," she informed him with a haughty sort of air.

"You need a safer hobby."

"I've got a pocketful of Norse Gods, too."

"Not better," he said with a sad shake of his head and a chuckle.

"Aw, but Clint," she stuck her lower lip out at him and whined, "stamp collecting is so booooring."

"No argument. Plus, did you ever see that old Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn movie about everybody killing everybody else over a stamp? Not safer."

"Charade. I love that movie. Mom and I used to watch it whenever it was on."

"Best Hitchcock movie Hitch never made," Clint pronounced with the certainty of devout cinephile.

"Hitch?" Darcy choked on a laugh. "Clint! You have depths."

He wrinkled his nose at her and glanced around the room, like he was afraid somebody might have overheard. "Don't let it get around, huh?"

"Your secret is safe with me," she assured him, still amused by this new insight into her SO.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly. "I think that's pretty obvious."

"I didn't want to hurt anybody," she said, hoping he'd at least try to understand.

"Except yourself," he said with a shake of his head. "I know you and Cap are close. You'll risk that, you'll take him being pissed at you, to help his friend. Hell, you'll even suffer through me being an asshole to keep a promise to Coulson."

"Yeah, well ..." she shrugged, uncomfortable with the turn this conversation was taking.

"Come on, Darce." He plucked at her hair until she shook her head and moved away from him with a glare. He smirked back. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right call with Barnes." He paused and cocked his head then shrugged again. "Well, okay, actually, I think you probably should have just called Steve, because I've heard of the Winter Soldier, mostly from Tash, but I'd heard rumors, you know, and that's not somebody anybody wants to mess with.

"But," he held a hand up when she was about to launch a loud protest, "I think you're right, too. I mean, if he was looking himself up, there's something left, and after Loki," he paused again and swallowed heavily, "after Loki, I can appreciate how much it sucks to have a puppet master. It's hard to shake."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she just chewed on her lip and muttered a soft, "yeah."

"I'm sure he didn't trust you, but he talked to you, and that's something. And when Steve didn't show up, he knew you kept your word. Spies, man, we're not used to that. It's rare, but I promise you, we remember when it happens. You gave him that, and now we just hope for the best," he concluded with a resolute nod.

"Hope for the best? That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

"You're a cynical soul." He shook a finger at her and sighed dramatically. "Look, we can only control what we do. And for the million other things outside of our control, yeah, we hope for the best."

"A sniper and a philosopher. I'm learning so many new things about you today."

It was his turn to pout and she groaned. He was the worst. "I spend a lot of time waiting to take the shot. Could turn anybody all philosophical."

"You spend your time waiting to take the shot listening to top 40, I've seen your iPod."

"That's an outrageous lie," he sniffed.

She chuckled and sighed and considered everything. "But, what if he snaps and goes on some murder spree or something?"

"What was Steve going to do?" Clint asked with his own eye roll. "The guy'd kicked his ass all over the helicarrier. And, you ask me, that was at least in part because he can't take down Barnes. Because that's his buddy and he can't put him down. I don't blame him, I get it, but, what? You call Cap, he shows up, they fight or Barnes runs -- either way he's in the wind again."

"Yeah," she sighed. "That's what I thought, too."

"See? So you made the right call. Trying not to make a bad situation worse." He was silent for a few seconds and then he scrunched up his face and looked at her. "I shouldn't have jumped all over you in the tunnel. I was way out of line. You just sucker punched me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. I think you make that same decision every time. Actually, I just watched you make it again."

She barked out a laugh, one edged with bitterness and just a small spike of pain. "You know who taught me about trust? Obie. He used to talk to me about it all the time. How you had to have people you trusted around you, how you needed to make sure they could trust you, too. Of course, he turned out to be an evil, murdering bastard. I keep waiting to find his name in the Hydra files, but I don't know if that would make anything better or worse."

"It wouldn't change anything," Clint told her. "Someday, I'll tell you about my brother." Darcy glanced at him and he shrugged. "Not today, but some day."

"Sure, if you want." Darcy ran a hand over her face. "After Obie died, and dad told me what happened, and after the hangover wore off," Clint snickered and she nodded ruefully, "I wondered if Obie'd killed my grandparents, too. Maybe he was Hydra, or maybe he swung a deal with them, or hell, maybe Christmas just came early for him that year. Bucky was afraid he'd done it. Oh, God, Clint. The look on his face." She sucked a breath in through her teeth, fighting back the pain of that.

Clint's focus sharpened and he sat forward, elbows on his knees, as he went from friend to agent. "How long did you talk to him?"

Darcy understood the mood shift, and accepted it with a nod. "Not long, and I did most of the talking."

"Shock."

"Whatever, Barton." She gave him a light thump on the shoulder. "He mostly said 'I don't know' a lot. I think I got maybe three or four longer sentences out of him. He even cracked a couple lame jokes. That had to be Bucky, right? I'd never heard of the Winter Soldier before, but with a name like that, I doubt he spent much time being a smartass."

"Yeah, I don't really picture him as the chatty type," Clint agreed. "Did he give you any specifics?"

"No."

"Think it through. Anything at all, no matter how insignificant ..." Clint pressed gently, trying to lead her through the memory.

"I am. I said I didn't know what they did to him, and he said they'd steal him. His word."

"Jesus."

"Which is what I said." She ran through the meeting again and tried to piece things together. "He didn't know why he kept going back to them, but he was worried they'd call him again. I told him to, for the love of God, not go back." She chewed on her lower lip and thought, but there wasn't a lot more, detail-wise. "That's pretty much it. He wanted to know if he was Steve's friend. He couldn't remember if he knew Howard, but he knew the name. Though, he'd just come out of the Cap exhibit at the Smithsonian, so it was really hard to tell what he actually knew and what he'd just seen. I don't think he could tell either."

Clint shook his head and looked pained. "Poor bastard."

"Yeah. Maybe I'm just a softie or a sap or something--"

"Definitely."

"--but," she said, raising her voice over Clint's interjection, "I had to help him. I gave him some money, my phone number. Told him he could come here if he needed to. You know, I think it's worth pointing out that he didn't tell me not to call Steve, he just asked me to wait a day. So ... I gave it to him. I don't know what else I could have done."

"Well, if you can't do something smart, do something right," Clint intoned with a firm nod, summing up his feelings on the matter.

Darcy frowned at him, though, and it took her a second for that to click. "Shepherd Book. Did you just quote Shepherd Book at me?"

"Weirdest thing, that TV that appeared in my apartment? It came with a Netflix account."

Darcy laughed and tried to look surprised. "Crazy."

"I know, right?" He gave her a look like it was the most bizarre thing in the whole world. "It had a wide variety of interesting suggestions, too."

"Imagine that."

"So, I have a new theory on why Fury made you the Avengers liasion," he continued and she groaned.

"Oh, God."

"No, hear me out. It was Coulson--"

"He did make the recommendation," Darcy interrupted.

Clint gave her a look. "Okay, shut up for five seconds, seriously."

"Shutting up."

"How long did Coulson chase after you?"

"Wait, am I talking or shutting up?" Clint made an inarticulate grumble of exasperation and she smirked. "Okay. I don't know. Like ... six months? Seven? Something. Did you know he called me when they found Steve?"

"Figures," Clint said. "It was probably his best day ever and I was in a bunker in New Mexico, and Tash was in Russia. So, what decided you finally?"

Darcy thought for a moment. "When he died, that hurt. It surprised me. I guess over all those months I got used to him calling. I talked to him about my dad a lot. Just venting, you know? I didn't have a lot of people I could talk to about Tony; not like that, anyway. But Phil knew it all, so that made it easy. And then he was gone. He wrote me two recommendation letters. Hill gave them to me that morning in New Jersey. Then I saw Manhattan, and I thought, holy shit, how could Phil think I could do anything to help with something like that?" She took a deep breath and rubbed a finger over her lips.

"He'd been wearing me down, though I totally refused to admit it at the time. And then I got to know all of you. Sometimes I'd think about the battle, and all of you out there, and how horrible it was to just stand there and watch on that crappy little TV in Norway, where I could't do a damned thing. I didn't like that feeling." She let out a long breath. "It was kind of inevitable, I guess. I was going to help you guys if I could, in my own small way. But then one night Phil turned up in my room, freaking alive. And he had a contract in his hands. Sneaky bastard."

For some reason, something about that story seemed to absolutely delight Clint, and he chortled softly to himself for a long minute, while she glared. When he composed himself, he grinned at her and said, "So you said yes."

"No. How easy do you think I am? Don't answer that. He had to give me the hard sell. I made him work for it," she assured him.

"Of course you did," Clint chuckled some more and kept grinning his stupid handsome grin that made him look about ten years younger. "Good for you."

"Gee, thanks."

Clint took a deep breath and relaxed back against the couch. "Oh, what I would have given to see the look on Fury's face when Coulson recommended you."

"Me, too, right? That must have been epic."

"The epic-est."

She squinted at him, and shook her head at his word butchery. "For what it's worth, I don't think you were totally wrong about being a sop to dad, by the way. He does actually listen to me, after all, which would not be true of any other SHIELD drone. And it kept me close. So, he'd take the SHIELD stuff coming from me. Sometimes."

"And you'd connected with the rest of us," Clint pointed out. "When did you sign your contract? It was like January, right?"

"Yeah."

Clint hummed thoughtfully. "And my TV magically appeared in September."

"Okay," she agreed, though she wasn't entirely clear on the relevance.

"Tash was teaching you self defense by then. She must have known, or at least thought, Fury had plans for you."

"I think his plan was to keep me out of his metaphorical hair and keep me from getting kidnaped by some whackjob on a power trip."

"Probably," Clint allowed with a twist of his lips and a shrug.

"Nat did seem surprised when I brought my contact to her," Darcy mused, as she thought back.

That seemed to draw his attention back from his own amusement. "What part surprised her?"

"Coulson's recommendation, I think."

"Okay. And, then, even before all that, you'd gone off to pull Steve in from the cold, right?"

"Well, it was me or Tony. Can you imagine?"

"I'll try not to." He sat up and leaned forward again. "Okay, so here's the thing. Coulson takes care of his people. At some point, you became one of his people. And with him gone, you kinda filled in for him, looking out for his other people." Darcy frowned at him, but Clint nodded like it all made sense in his head.

"Oh, he'd have pitched it to Fury in more practical terms, and Fury had a million other things on his plate, obviously, than to ride herd on a part-time team of pains in the ass. He'd bitch about it, but he'd have taken Coulson's recommendation seriously. And, yes, he undoubtedly saw that you were good at locking things down, and anybody who'd yell at him, was clearly not going to be a push over when it came to the rest of us. The fact that you could deal with Stark at all was probably a freaking dream come true."

Darcy's brows lowered into a frown and she gave Clint a hurt look. "He's not that bad."

"Says you."

"You just have to know how to talk to him."

"Exactly my point," he pronounced, spreading his hands wide. "Who would know better? And after Stark, what's a Norse god or two?"

"I guess that's true," she replied thoughtfully. "I did tase Thor after all."

Clint cocked his head at her. "You did what now?"

She blinked at him, stared really, like he'd just started spouting in Greek or something. "Have I seriously never told you that?"

"Tell me now, please," he begged. He even went so far as to clasp his hands together and shake them at her.

"It's my favorite story ever. Holy shit, how have I never told you this?" She smacked a hand on her forehead, amazed at her own failure to share this story with every person she'd ever met. "Yes, I tased him. Or, as he puts it, I felled him with lightning. I mean, at the time, I'd just hit him with the van and then he was this giant crazy person out in the desert in the middle of the night and he was seriously freaking me out. So, I tased him."

Clint's jaw went slack and he stared at her in wonder and more than a little admiration. "Marry me, Lewis."

That drew a full on guffaw from her. "Yeah, sure, I'm not doing anything else today."

"You think I'm joking? Oh, I'm not joking," he promised her, his serious face as serious as he could get his ridiculous face to be. "Should I get down on one knee? I'm not proud, I'll do it."

"You do realize that will make Tony your father-in-law, right?"

He wavered, just a touch, but she saw it and smirked. Narrowing his eyes at her, he slipped off the couch and got down on one knee. "Ha, you think I'm afraid? Ha."

Rolling her eyes, she nudged him in the ribs with a foot. "Get up, you idiot."

"Oh, that was vintage Tash," he sighed, sounding almost happy, as he continued to gaze moonily up at her.

"Okay, wow." She put two fingers on his forehead and pushed him back, trying not to laugh. "Not cool to be sighing dreamily over another woman when you're proposing."

He broke with a snort, and then a chuckle, and then an actual fit of laughter. "So close, so close."

"In your dreams, Barton," she chuckled back.

"Oh the things I could tell you about my dreams." He waggled his eyebrows at her and levered himself up onto the edge of the coffee table.

"Maybe not when my dad's standing like, what? Ten feet behind you looking like he's about to toss you out the window."

Clint tensed for a second, and then forced himself to relax, before turning to offer Tony a broad smile. "Hey, Stark."

"Hey, Tweety," Tony returned, his voice as cold as ice. "Want to see if you can fly?"

"Not today, thanks."

Tony glared at Clint, then shot Darcy a betrayed look, before wandering over to the bar.

"Clint was just proposing," Darcy called over to him. Tony grunted and poured himself an orange juice.

"Stop talking," he grumbled.

"I'd treat her right," Clint promised.

Tony's mouth tightened and he pointed a threatening finger at Clint. "You, go be somewhere that's not my tower. And you," he turned the finger on Darcy, "I need help going over the list of SHIELD agents we want to bring in."

"Wasn't Hill doing that?" Darcy asked with a frown.

"She's down in HR taking a poly."

Darcy couldn't help but laugh at that. "Seriously? You're making her take a poly?"

"What did I say? I said polygraphs and background checks. That's the rule." Tony tipped his chin up and dared her to disagree.

"Can I get the footage of that?" Clint asked.

"No. Go away."

"Aww, Stark."

Darcy patted Clint on the shoulder as she got to her feet. "Better luck next time, hot guy."

"Hawkeye," he corrected automatically, then glared up at her when he realized what she'd done. "Funny."

"Totes." She watched Tony glare at Clint again and then stalk off back to his lair.

"Darce?"

"Yeah?"

"About the thing in the tunnel. I am sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too," she told him. "It was a hard secret to keep and not my favorite thing ever."

"Well, just so you know, as far as I'm concerned, we're okay, you and me." He stood up and gave her her own pat on the shoulder.

"Good. Okay. Thanks, Clint."

"Sure. I'm gonna go down and see if I can catch Hill in HR. Man, that's got to be amazing."

"Jackass." Darcy snickered and shoved at his shoulder, feeling lighter than she had in days. The weight of secrets eased, the dark gloom of Hydra maybe feeling not quite so gloomy, and there was a shift in the air, like maybe they'd all actually survive this thing after all. Crazy, just crazy.

Chapter Text

"Dashyenka."

The lamp on her bedside table came alight. Darcy started awake, jerking upright and, at the same time, trying to dive away from the suddenness of the unexpected voice and equally unexpected brightness. Her legs tangled in the sheets, and she tumbled sideways out of bed, hitting the floor with an inelegant squeak.

"Holy sweet mother of ... Thor." Brushing her hair out of her face, she squinted over the edge of her bed and glared at the woman standing on the other side.

"Good morning," Natasha told her pleasantly.

"You are a horrible, horrible person." Darcy kicked her way free of the sheets and squinted at the alarm clock. "It's 2:37 a.m."

"So it is," Natasha agreed.

Rolling her eyes, Darcy reached for her glasses, and the Russian assassin in her room came into focus. Resting her chin on the edge of the bed, she glowered, sleepy-eyed, and thought, very seriously, about just falling back to sleep right there.

But first, she had to ask, "Are you dying?"

"No."

"Is somebody dying?" She pressed on with a yawn.

Natasha shrugged. "Somewhere probably."

Letting out a hissing breath — half growl, half whine — Darcy clarified, "Somebody I know?"

"I don't think so."

"Are aliens invading?"

"No."

"Is Hydra about to attack the Tower?"

"No."

Darcy closed her eyes and whimpered, "Then why the fuck am I awake?"

"Such language," Natasha tsked and shook her head. "So surly in the morning."

"It's not morning, it's the middle of the night. I was asleep. You're stalking me while I sleep. Again. You promised to stop doing that," she grumbled, feeling a little betrayed. After all, Natasha had promised to stop sleep-stalking — the agent called it an exercise in learning to go from sleep to accurate threat-assessment in moments. Darcy called it intensely creepy.

Other people didn't have to deal with this. Other people didn't have Russian assassins breaking into their rooms in the middle of the night -- well, other people who weren't on some sort of hit list.

"Am I on some sort of hit list?"

The assassin titled her head in patient exasperation and smiled, then dropped onto the far side of the bed. Natasha leaned back against the headboard and crossed her legs. "Your reflexes are getting better."

"Sure. My reflexes are awesome," Darcy grunted, pulling herself up and sitting back next to Natasha. "I punched Thor the other day. And all he did was surprise me by reaching for a bagel. Never mind that I practically broke my hand and he doesn't have so much as a teeny-tiny bruise; it was like punching a puppy right in its adorable little snout. The look on his face. It was horrible," she moaned. "I spent the rest of the day feeling like a destroyer of rainbows and joy."

Natasha chuckled. "Well done."

"I blamed you," Darcy told her with a pointed glower. "Though, Thor thought that wasn't very fair since you weren't there to defend yourself. Save me from dudes who are all honorable and crap."

"They can be ... trying," Natasha said with a simple nod that managed to convey a long, weary history with such men.

"So, not that I'm not thrilled to be terrified by you again, or anything, but I thought you were off finding your cover, or, uh, stuff." Natasha'd been extremely vague about what building, or rebuilding, her cover entailed. It seemed like a personal sort of thing, though, and as curious as she might have been, Darcy didn't figure it was her business.

Crossing her arms over her stomach, comfortable, like she was lounging on a lazy Sunday afternoon — she just needed the crossword and a pen -- Natasha watched Darcy out of the corner of her eye. "I received an interesting message from Clint."

That would certainly draw Natasha out. But, Darcy wasn't sure how Natasha might define 'interesting' when it came from Clint. From her own personal experience, she figured that messages from him were probably either one sentence status updates -- 'Everything's fine', 'I've got new arrows', 'A building fell on me' -- or six page odes to the dogs he met on his morning jog.

"Was it 'I like nachos'?" Darcy guessed. "If so, I admit I'm a little worried about how he's drowning his sorrows in shit-tons of cheese and guac right now."

Natasha stared at Darcy for a long moment. Like Darcy was the crazy one, and not Clint and the fact that nobody had seen him not covered in tortilla chip crumbs for days. "No."

"Was it how I met Bucky?" She tried again. "Because, I want it noted that I did not go looking for him."

Natasha's whole body went tense, lazy Sunday gone in a poof, as her eyes took on an intense coldness that was just a touch scary. She grabbed Darcy's wrist, tugging her around to face her directly. "You did what?"

"I did not go looking for him," Darcy repeated in a rush, feeling a frosty spike of panic. Natasha was a friend, but Natasha was also terrifying. "He was just ... there. And, you're cutting off the circulation to my hand." Natasha let go and Darcy drew her arm back to her chest, wiggling her fingers to restore feeling.

"He's dangerous."

"I got the message. I so got the message," Darcy told her, words tumbling over themselves in the rush to get out. "Really. It was an accident, I swear."

Natasha opened her mouth, most likely to launch into a lecture or tell Darcy how big an idiot she'd been, but she paused and sighed, seeming to bow to the reality that all of that would be in vain. Because if there was anybody who never, ever forgot that Darcy was a Stark, it was Natasha. "You accidentally met the Soldier."

"Yes, because my life is insane and ... weird. It's weird." Darcy flailed her arms over her head, trying to convey the scope of the weird. "My life is weird. Of course I ran into Bucky Freaking Barnes. Of course, I did. Because, really, what else would happen?"

With a small laugh, more a light breath of reluctant bemusement than actual entertainment, Natasha shook her head. "Well, you seem unharmed."

"Yeah. I mean, Steve's mad at me, and that kind of hurts, but ... what?" Darcy threw her hands up in the air again and collapsed back on the bed. "What was I supposed to do?"

"What did you do?" Natasha asked with a sort of morbid curiosity, like she really didn't want to know, but found herself compelled to ask.

"I talked to him. And I didn't call Steve."

Natasha sighed again and closed her eyes, repeating wearily, "You talked to the Soldier."

Darcy opened one eye to look up at her. "Are you going to keep calling him that? Because it's kinda creepy."

Sitting up, Natasha tugged her shirt from her pants, lifting the edge to show a thick knot of scar tissue low on her abdomen. "A few years ago, during a protection/escort detail, the Soldier assassinated my protectee. Through me."

"Ouch? And ... yeah, okay, creepy. Also, ick." Darcy swallowed heavily and made a little motion with her hands, willing Natasha to drop her shirt back down.

Complying, Natasha considered her for a long moment before asking, "What did you talk about?"

"How he didn't remember anything, mostly. Not a super long conversation."

"I see."

"He just seemed ... lost."

Humming a little in thought, Natasha settled back against the headboard once more, contemplating the far wall. "Interesting."

"If you say so."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No. I saw him in DC, but I got the impression he wasn't going to stick around. I didn't ask; it was hard enough to get a full sentence out of him anyway." Scrunching her face up, sort of bracing herself for Natasha's reaction, she added, "Also, I maybe told him my last name was Stark and gave him some money."

Natasha's only response was a non-committal, "Hmm."

"Okay." Darcy relaxed at that lack of lecturing, yawned again, rubbed at her nose, and turned on her side, curling into her pillow. "So, if it wasn't nachos or Bucky, I can't honestly guess what Clint had to tell you that would make you turn up in my room in the middle of the -- oh, duh, never mind. Coulson."

"Yes."

"Third time's the charm," Darcy muttered. "Are you mad?"

"No." Natasha looked down at her, brows lowered and mouth twisted in confusion. "Why would I be angry?"

"Everybody else kind of was."

"Then they're all idiots," she said with an airy wave of her hand.

"Especially Clint?"

"You have to ask?"

"I love you."

Natasha patted her on the side of the head and they sat quietly for a moment, Darcy drifting back to sleep, only to blink back awake when Natasha asked, "Nachos, really?"

"For breakfast even," Darcy murmured into her pillow. "I'm a little worried I'm feeding the habit, since I make sure Jarvis keeps the fridge stocked for nacho making, but I figure at least he's coming here and not brooding on a rooftop by himself somewhere. Or eating at Toxic Hell."

Natasha chuckled, low and quiet. "Thank you for looking after him."

"Sure."

"So, do you know where Coulson is?"

"I haven't been there, but Fury gave him a super secret hidey-hole. Phil sent me directions."

"Fury?"

"He left a packet for Phil, giving him the base and naming him Director. I mean, SHIELD's kind of a disaster at the moment, but Phil's determined."

"He always is."

"Yeah," Darcy let the word drift out of her mouth even as she was pulled back towards delicious, delicious sleep. Only to once again be startled awake by Natasha clapping her hands loudly.

Darcy whimpered and pulled her pillow over her head. As glad as she was to see Natasha, there were limits.

"We should get going then," Natasha said, her voice clear and determined and she gave the bed a good, hard shake as she stood up.

"Uh, what?" Darcy lifted the pillow off her head and squinted at Natasha. She felt bleary, thick, slow, her brain longing for the comfort of dreams and cotton, and nothing Natasha was saying made any sense. 'Going'?

"Come on, Dashyenka. Up, up." Natasha tugged away Darcy's pillow and shoved her shoulder.

"Why am I getting up?"

"We need to go check in with the Director."

"Now?" Darcy gaped at her. "Right now this has to happen?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Natasha shrugged and tilted her head to one side. "Why not?"

"Oh my god."

"Up, now."

"No," Darcy whined, grabbing the duvet and trying to burrow. It didn't work, the red-headed terror ripped it from her hands, leaving her pathetically defenseless on a bare bed. "Heimdall, get Thor!"

"Are you five?" Natasha exclaimed, exasperated, tossing the duvet to one-side with an irritated flip of her wrist. "You're the one who knows how to find Coulson, so you're coming along, and you can either be conscious for this, or you can wake up on the plane in an hour with the worst headache you've ever had. Your choice."

"Can't I just print you out a Google map?" Darcy asked, trying to be hopeful, but going sort of defensively fetal anyway. It was probably just as pathetic a sight as she thought it was. Judging by the twist of Natasha's lips, the other woman agreed.

"I seriously doubt Fury had a base that could be found on Google."

"Well, no," Darcy agreed, "but I think I can find that one tree right next to it. I'm badass at the googlings."

Natasha raised an eyebrow and stared her down. Darcy held up for a personal record of 10 of the longest seconds ever, before she cracked and rolled out of bed again.

"Jarvis, make a note that I've been kidnapped by a Russian assassin. Just, if anybody asks."

"Noted. Have a safe flight."

"You are not my favorite anymore," she grumbled under her breath and glared sourly at the ceiling, before snatching up some clothes from her wardrobe on the chair. "Just give me twenty minutes," she grumped with a petulant huff.

"Three," Natasha countered with narrowed eyes. "How long does it take to put on a shirt?"

"I can't even shower?"

"You smell fine. Get dressed."

"My hair --"

"Is lovely. Wear a hat if you're worried. Here are your boots."

Darcy ducked the boots tossed at her head with a squawk, and darted into the bathroom for a quick change.

"Two minutes," Natasha yelled after her.

***

Darcy dropped her head back against the passenger seat of the rented, entirely nondescript, sedan. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because this feels like punishment."

"Punishment hurts more," Natasha assured her, tapping her finger on the steering wheel, staring out into the cold early morning. Looking for, or at, God only knew what. It was black as pitch, the road unlit and pressed in by trees on each side.

Darcy sighed. "You want me to break into a SHIELD base by myself--"

"I actually suspect it's a former SSR facility."

"--braving unknown automated defenses and like laser beams and stuff?"

"You're perfectly capable."

"But, laser beams," Darcy protested weakly.

"Stop whining. You sound like Clint," Natasha chastised, but her tone was mild. "Look, consider it a training exercise. It'll be fun."

"No, something is either a training exercise or fun, it can't be both."

Natasha's face was hidden by the darkness, but her silence was one of disappointment and disapproval, and Darcy rubbed a hand over her forehead, feeling the edges of a sleep-deprivation headache gnaw at the side of her skull.

With SHIELD in ruins, sleep became a rare commodity. It would be easy enough to blame the long days cleaning up the mess with her insomniac, workaholic father, but Darcy's subconscious had always liked to put on a show.

When she slipped into sleep, and then into dreams, there were the usual sort of nightmares -- the attack on the New York base, with a nasty twist or maybe an ugly ending for variety, and sometimes of helicarriers falling from the sky, crushing the Tower beneath them. Bearable — not fun, but not sheet-twisting, sweat-inducing, wake-with-a-start terror, or anything. She'd open her eyes, stare at the ceiling, let her heart-rate slow, then roll over and bury her head under the pillow, scraping together a few more hours sleep.

But sometimes the dreams weren't that nice and kind. Sometimes darkness leaked in around the edges of other dreams, and doubts, uncertainty, turmoil, and a sickly, heavy dread chased everything else away. Sometimes the shadows crept too close, amorphous, deadly, invasive. Those ... well, it was a bitch to fall asleep after one of those.

And then there were the nights she was kidnapped by Russian assassins.

With a quiet sigh, Darcy rolled her head back on the headrest and glanced over at Natasha, the other woman barely a shadow in the night. In its own way, Darcy supposed, Natasha's plan was more of an exercise in being helpful. Testing Coulson's defenses, making sure what was left of SHIELD was as safe as it could be. And there really weren't many people around to do it but the two of them. Sleep could wait, there were bigger things to do.

Shaking off the weariness and pulling herself up out of her slouch, Darcy nodded once. She could do this. Her SOs were two of SHIELD's best -- and she was well aware that was solely because of who her father was. It was the sort of thing that would usually rankle, but this time she'd take it. Had she just been Jane's assistant, the flighty co-ed, Fury wouldn't have given two shits about her. She thought maybe Coulson would have, but that was hard to say for sure.

Still, however she ended up where she was, and whatever motives were behind it, she was where she wanted to be, and would do her best to be worth that training for her own sake and on her own merits. And, maybe more importantly, she respected Natasha more than almost anybody; Darcy figured she owed it to her SO to show she'd taken her lessons seriously.

"Okay," she announced, trying to sound brisk and professional, "so, outside of training, the only places I've ever broken into are places my dad owns and Clint's apartment. What's my best approach here?"

Natasha made a soft humming noise that Darcy took as approval. "We walk from here. According to your coordinates we're about two miles out."

"Yeah."

"If this was a real infiltration," Natasha continued, sliding easily into cool assessment and instruction, "we'd take the time to gather more detailed information about the base and surrounds. However, it's important to remember there are always limits to what intelligence can tell us. Things change from moment to moment and we can't anticipate everything. Relying too heavily on intelligence is a good way to get yourself killed.

"That said, we know the makeup of Coulson's core team, and we know the basic protocols and plans for a SHIELD facility and its security."

"I thought it was an SSR base."

"That fell into Fury's control. He would have modified it, and I know how he thought. And I know you've reviewed base protocols and security basics. You know what to look for."

"But, there's a question." Darcy jabbed a finger at the windshield and the black night beyond. "How would Fury have done that without Hydra finding out? They were freaking everywhere."

"That's why he chose an SSR base, decommissioned a long time ago, forgotten by everybody else. And he had people he trusted to a point. He probably slid equipment and retrofitting through appropriations as 'office supplies'." Natasha let out a breath, almost a laugh.

"He was paranoid. With good reason. He did the work in pieces, a computer here, a camera there, over the years, upgrading as he went along. And then he activated it ... probably any time between Thor showing up the first time and after the Manhattan battle. Things were changing, the WSC was getting tense, and there were other demands; he'd want fall back options ready to go."

"Well," Darcy said, trying to picture the effort and degree of paranoia that went into having a string of secret secret bases. It was mind-boggling; so much so, she could feel the simple contemplation of the complexity stirring up her headache. All those moving pieces, and trying to actually manage them? Damn. "Way to work the red-tape, sir."

Natasha laughed quietly again. "Fury was a decent field agent back in the day, and tactically sound, but his skills at information logistics and personnel management were unrivaled. A chess master, playing a hundred games at once."

It was only the knowledge that Fury was important to Natasha that kept Darcy from making a comment about playing games and missing the giant, God damned evil snake under the table. Still ... her dad was right. Too fractured into too many pieces, and too few people who knew even a quarter of them, and it all led to chaos, flames, and a sobering body count. Of course, they all missed it, so ...

The heavy thud and click of the car door pulled Darcy out of her thoughts, she fumbled with her seat belt and lurched out of the car to follow Natasha. The morning was sharp with a damp autumn chill that worked its way through her jacket and sweater. She tugged her lapels and tucked her chin down behind the fabric, then shoved her frosty fingers into her pockets and jogged after the other agent.

"Most of the base will be underground," Natasha said once Darcy caught up. "Two or three easily-defended entrances above ground."

"Some sort of hanger, and they've got to get the Bus in and out. It's not easy to hide a C-17," Darcy put in. "Though, you know, as far as running-from-Johnny-Law planes go, the C-17's a good one. It's big, but not so big you couldn't modify a warehouse for it. Maintenance turn around is hours instead of days, too. You can be up and running like that." She snapped her fingers.

"And even without the Bus's VTOL modifications, the C-17's not super picky about runways, not like a lot of the cargo planes. It just doesn't need a lot of space to get lift. Even a long strip of concrete, like say, a defunct factory delivery or shipping yard built for semis, and probably reinforced by the paranoid director of a super secret black ops agency, would totally be workable. I mean, you know, assuming you have a take-off path clear of trees and buildings and other shit." Darcy sighed in happy contemplation of the plane. "I love me the Moose."

Natasha cocked her head to one side and stared at Darcy for a few paces.

"What?"

Shrugging, Natasha turned back to the road. "I forgot you had a thing about aircraft."

"And artillery."

"I never forget that."

Darcy laughed and hiked her jacket higher up around her ears. "We could just lob a couple dummy shells into the compound … see how long it takes them to react."

"Without the explosions, what's the point?" Natasha rubbed her gloved hands together against the chill; it was always nice to remember she was human. Even if only for a moment, a flickering instant, before she was back on point, "In addition to the obvious entrances, there will be one other. Out, away from the base. Hidden. Fury always liked a last ditch exit, but it will be heavily secured. I'll enter through there. You'll go in through the front."

"It sounds so simple when you say it like that."

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Natasha stopped them both in the middle of the road. "If I say you can do this, you can do this."

"I … yeah, you know, I do know that. I'm sorry."

"Never mind," Natasha told her patiently. "Our objective is to reach the Director. As you enter, disable what you can; I'll do the same. Between us, we'll be able to compromise security enough that one of us will get to him."

"Right. Loser buys the first round. And by loser, I mean me." Darcy smirked at her. "But, I'm kinda curious to see how far I can get."

"I think you'll surprise yourself."

***

Darcy's first challenge was reconciling the spirit of Natasha's 'game', with the practical truth that if she, Darcy Lewis, was a Hydra agent, she'd just knock on the front door and ask if Phil could come out and play. But, Phil and Co. needed defending against shady, generic Hydra agents, and not evil, Mirror Universe Darcy Lewises (though, the way her life was going, she'd figured there were good odds of that happening sometime in the next five years). Also, she suspected that Natasha would not appreciate the quibble over intent.

Her second challenge was not electrocuting herself while disabling the sneaky, damned invisible electric fence hiding two feet in from the compound's ancient, sagging, decoy chainlink. Fury was a jackass. She totally burned one of her fingers.

The third through fifth challenges included a chain of security cameras, a network of motion sensors, and something that looked suspiciously like a hidden machine gun emplacement — stumbling on that was two notches above terrifying, and she'd had to take a minute and practice the circular breathing Bruce swore by before she could continue.

By the time she made it to a large warehouse structure on the back edge of the compound, Darcy's shirt was sticking to her sweat-slicked skin, her breath was a harsh din in her ears, and she'd vowed to start sleeping under her bed where nobody could find her.

The security panel by the side door to the warehouse was a sweet dream of candy canes and unicorns after everything else. It was a card swipe, but that only got you to a retinal scanner. Darcy laughed and went to work with her pocket knife and phone. Twenty-three seconds and she was in. And she didn't even have to break anything, though she made a mental note to come back and rewire it later. Sorry, Phil.

Once in the warehouse, she scanned vast, murky space, lit only by dim backup running lights at the edges. Just visible in the gloom was the shape of a large door set into the floor, an elevator for something very large and plane-like. She punched the air in triumph; she'd been right, this was totally the hanger. The lure of visiting the Bus was strong, but she forced herself back to Natasha's orders — disable what she could.

On the far side of the room was a computer set-up that, given what she knew about SHIELD, would be networked to the rest of the base's systems. With luck Skye hadn't had time to add her own wicked brand of security yet. Darcy was good, but she had no problem acknowledging that Skye was a whole lot better. All the respect to Skye's digital wizardy. That said, her dad had made a hobby out of breaking into SHIELD's systems, and he was paranoid enough that he made sure his daughter knew how to get around, too. He'd designed a half dozen apps solely for this purpose.

The truth was that even without her, Natasha could and would get to Phil, but Darcy was there and she could make life easier for the other agent. Team work, hoorah. Man, if they could have brought Clint this whole thing would be a walk in the park. Which was kind of scary, actually. She didn't like the idea that what was left of SHIELD was so vulnerable. Very few agents were as good as Nat and Clint, but still, some of SHIELD's best had turned traitor. And, frankly, if she could get past the outer defenses, they needed help.

That chilling thought in mind, Darcy bent herself to the task of making an honest attempt at undermining the base's security. The internal sensors went down first, and she held her breath, waiting for an alarm to sound. She was pretty sure she disabled it, but … When a few seconds passed in silence, she grinned and went back to work.

Next was a painstaking search through the network with the goal of disabling any internal locks or additional security. The base, Darcy discovered, was broken into zones — a zone couldn't be accessed without passing through a security node. Each agent on base had a security ID number that was captured each time they moved from zone to zone. She couldn't immediately identify whose code was whose, but she could see where they accessed most often, and unlocked the doors and disabled the nodes to those zones. Phil was one of those numbers, after all.

Now, if she was a generic Hydra baddie who was trying to get into the base to take out the Director and his agents, what would she do? Well, in a perfect evil world, she'd have more than one other person with her. She'd probably have a team or two of Hydra red shirts on stand-by somewhere.

She held off killing the external security cameras — if they were being monitored by real eyeballs, that would be a tip-off. But, she found where camera control lived, made a mental note, and moved on. Motion sensors next, along with the super scary gun emplacement. Finally, she'd kill the external doors to let that team in.

And that's where she got a little greedy. The doors unlocked, but she tripped something. A low, but persistent alarm followed, the external doors resecured with a heavy metallic clunk, and went into hard lockdown. "Oops," she muttered with a small laugh. She tried to get them open again, but in little more than a heartbeat or two she could tell somebody was doing their best to fend her off.

Well, she'd done some pretty good damage and bought Nat some time, or at least, made sure the other agent wouldn't have to break into much of a sweat. Pushing away from the computer, Darcy decided it was time to play the decoy. If they were looking for her, they weren't looking for anybody else.

Edging her way to the door nearest the computers, she approached slowly, then opened the door a crack. Peering out, the hall beyond was bathed in a hazy orange emergency light, but was otherwise empty. A shout behind her propelled her through the door and she took off at a run.

This was unlike any SHIELD base she'd ever been in. The corridors were not smooth concrete and steel, they were aged brick supported by green-painted I-beams. The doors were not blank metal, but old wood. And the place seemed to be a warren of side rooms and offices with no readily discernible plan. That made it difficult to navigate, and she was spotted at least once, but it also gave her a variety of options for escape. At least until she got hopelessly turned around. When she found herself trapped between the sound of running feet headed her way from her left and right, Darcy played a quick round of eeny-meeny and pulled open the second door on her right, dodging inside.

It was a tiny office, with no obvious other exit. Well, eeny-meeny wasn't always a perfect tactic. But, there was a newish computer sitting on top of an enormous ancient metal desk. Darcy'd seen ships smaller than that desk. She squeezed past the line of filing cabinets flanking the gargantuan office piece, sat down in the creaking, listing chair, and went back at the network. She was kind of literally backed into a corner, but she reminded her racing heart that she was in a friendly base, and she probably had a few minutes to make a bigger mess.

Five minutes later, with the help of her dad's deft programming, she'd cracked into the base's files, and started a local download of anything that looked damaging. She wasn't trying to steal anything, but she was compromising what she could. It occurred to her that she was also making a hell of a lot of work for Skye. She'd owe her like a fruit basket or something. Did Skye like fruit? Maybe an assortment of Swiss chocolates. Or a bottle of something expensive from her dad's secret stash he only thought was secret but that Darcy had found when she was seventeen. All of the above?

The door opened with a bang and Darcy sat back from the computer, her hands rising in submission. A short, somewhat portly, round-faced man stood in the doorway, gun sweeping the room until the sights landed on her.

"Stand up slowly," he ordered.

Darcy stood.

"Move away from the desk."

"Sure. Look, I'm unarmed." Darcy kept her hands up and shuffled awkwardly past the cabinets again.

"Who are you and how did you get in? Are you Hydra?" The agent demanded.

"Not Hydra. My name is Darcy Lewis, I'm a level three SHIELD agent, and I got in through the warehouse," she told him, keeping her voice calm and even. His hand was steady, and he didn't seem like he had an itchy trigger finger, but Natasha and Phil would be pissed if she got herself shot. And her dad. And her mom. And her other dad. And Jane. And—

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "If you're an agent, why did you break in?"

"I'm testing your security. You have a few holes."

"How, exactly, did you get in?" He asked again. "This base was designed to keep out even Agent Romanoff."

"Ooh," Darcy winced in pained apology. "Well, this is about to get super embarrassing."

He didn't seem to like that answer. Jaw tight, he waved his pistol at her and stepped back to clear the door. "Into the hallway, keep your hands up."

Darcy obeyed, and as soon as she stepped into the hall she was forced up against the rough brick, a firm hand between her shoulder blades, while the other patted her down.

"Really, unarmed. Hey there, with the hand. Watch it, pal." Darcy tried to push back and turn, but he gave her a nudge and she ended up with her nose pressed into the brick. "I will remember that," she growled.

Any response of his was lost when another pair of boots dashed their way, and then a squeak of rubber on slick concrete as they came to a sudden stop. "Darcy?"

Darcy pulled her nose out of the mortar and tossed Skye a grin. "Hey, Skye. What's shaking? How do you feel about fruit?"

"That was you? Of course, that was you," Skye sighed and holstered her own pistol.

"I got a little greedy with the outside doors," Darcy admitted with a rueful frown.

"You had 'em for a second," Skye said. She offered up a small smile, but it was edged with weariness and a strange, stiff distance. "But, I was already on it. I thought it was weird when I left the gym and the light on the armory's security pad was green."

"Ah, curse my timing." Darcy jerked her head back to the guy behind her. "Think you can get Cujo here to back off?"

Skye blinked and nodded. "Yeah, Billy, she's okay."

"She broke in," he protested with a huff.

"I was testing security," Darcy said with more than a hint of irritation. The face into the brick wall thing was doing nothing for her mood.

"Didn't get very far, did you?" Billy sniffed and stepped back, but not very far and as Darcy turned she could see he still had his pistol out.

She raised an eyebrow and responded to his dismissive assessment of her efforts with all the cocky bravado of her Stark heritage, "Depends on what my goal was."

He tensed and Skye let out a gusty breath of recognition and resignation.

"And what was your goal?" Billy demanded through gritted teeth.

"To distract you, of course." Darcy grinned back, puffing up the arrogance and letting it roll between them to prick at the man's skin; obnoxiously needling him in petty retaliation for her own irritation "You didn't think I broke into a SHIELD base on my own, did you?"

Skye groaned, "Are you trying to get shot?"

"You are Hydra," Billy exclaimed, sounding triumphant.

"I'm not Hydra."

"She's not Hydra."

Billy tilted his chin up, refusing to yield on the subject. "That's what everybody thought about Agent Ward."

Skye sucked in her cheeks and looked away down the hallway, her face drawn and tight. Darcy dropped the arrogance and felt that bright spark of irritation flare up into anger. Her voice was hard and sharp when she barked out, "Hey. Low blow, dude. That was entirely uncalled for."

Looking taken aback at the unexpected chastisement from his prisoner, Billy frowned and nodded at Skye in humble contrition. "I apologize Agent Skye."

"Yeah, whatever," Skye shrugged it off. "She's not Hydra. She's one of Coulson's."

Billy chewed on that for half a second before looking down at Darcy again. "Where is your partner?" He asked, still not quite ready to take Skye's word for Darcy's good guy status.

"Oh, around somewhere, I suppose." Probably with Phil already, if Darcy had to guess. "She'll turn up."

"She." Billy leapt on the pronoun as though Darcy'd given up a vital piece of intelligence. "And how do you know she's not Hydra, using you as part of her plot to infiltrate this base?"

"Because if Natasha Romanoff is Hydra, then we're all already dead," Darcy pronounced with flat finality. "Do you have a shovel? If so, can I borrow it to dig my own grave? If I save her the effort, maybe she'll kill me quick."

Billy's confidence and annoyance faltered at last. "Natasha Romanoff?"

"God, of course," Skye said, snorting in amusement. "I forgot she was your SO."

"Your SO?" Billy echoed.

Darcy eyed the slack look of surprise on his face. "Aww, I think we broke him. I was having so much fun, too."

Eyebrows drawn down and knotted by heavy skepticism, Skye gave her an eloquent side-eye that said, 'I can't tell if you're joking'.

Billy sputtered for a moment. "But this base was designed—"

"To keep her out," Darcy interrupted. "But, she had me." She held out her arms, presenting herself. "Team work. I may not look like much, but I'm scrappy."

"I …" Billy's voice failed him again. "You …" He paused and took a deep breath. "Right. You still broke in. I'm taking you to the Director."

Billy finally holstered his pistol, and took Darcy's elbow in a firm grip, pulling her around with him. Where they came face to face with the Director.

"Shortest trip to the Principal's office ever," Darcy commented, laughing a little before giving Billy an elbow in the kidney, encouraging him to drop the grip on her arm.

"Out of curiosity, how many trips to the Principal's office did you make?" Coulson asked with one of his thin-lipped smiles. May stood to his left and Natasha on his right. It was an impressive trio, for all Phil would always and forever look like an accountant.

"Not nearly as many as most people would think. It is really great to see you, Phil," Darcy greeted, her own smile bright and relieved. A pair of phone calls hadn't done quite enough to assure her he was okay after everything. He was a little pale, had maybe lost some weight, but he looked pretty good otherwise.

She turned her smile to the woman standing next to him. "Hey, May, how's things?"

May nearly smiled herself, her lips moved in a way that was almost a display of moderate happiness, or at least an expression of mild non-irritation. "Lewis, nice infiltration."

"Yes, well done, Dashyenka," Natasha agreed with an approving nod.

Darcy responded with an emphatic finger gun, "I owe you the unpronounceable Lithuanian beer of your choice."

"You made it easier," Natasha said, letting her own success slide past on an easy roll of her shoulders. "The internal sensor network was a problem until you took it offline."

Coulson rubbed at his forehead, looking more weary than he had just moments before. "What else did you break?"

"I didn't break anything," Darcy was quick to protest, but then she thought about it for a second. "I mean, okay, I'll totally rewire the panel outside the hanger. And, I should probably make sure I didn't completely short out the electronic fence. It should have cycled back, but …" She trailed off at the pained look on the Director's face. "Uh, yeah, I'll fix that, too."

"Great." Coulson nodded and glanced at Billy. "Can we kill the alarm? It's a little early in the morning."

"Oh, right, sorry." Billy shook off his shock and stopped staring at Natasha long enough to pull a tablet out of his jacket and tap away. The dull throb of the alarms fell silent a moment later.

Coulson nodded his thanks. "Agent Koenig, Agent Skye, you've both met Agent Lewis, this is Agent Romanoff. Billy, why don't you see about getting them their security badges?"

"Of course," Billy said with a smile. "It's a real honor to meet you Agent Romanoff. You and Agent Lewis sure gave us some work to do this morning." He laughed a little and even turned his smile on Darcy.

"We'll have a full security assessment for you later today," Natasha told him graciously.

"I look forward to reading it," he told her, sounding far too sincere and excited about a report. "I'll, uh, go see about your lanyards. Shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

"Thanks, Billy," Darcy said with a pat on his shoulder. They hadn't gotten off to the best start, but he was just doing his job, and she was more than willing to let it go.

Coulson turned to Skye next. "Skye, do you mind taking Darcy and Natasha to the lounge? I have a call scheduled." He glanced at Natasha and then Darcy, apologetic. "Shouldn't be longer than a half hour."

"Yeah, sure," Skye agreed. "Coffee?"

"All the coffee?" Darcy asked, before tossing a narrow-eyed look at Natasha. "I got kidnapped by a Russian assassin in the middle of the night."

"And you haven't stopped whining about it since," Natasha pointed out with a wicked smirk dancing on her lips.

May rolled her eyes and Coulson shook his head as they turned and left for, presumably, his office.

Skye led them through the hallways, pointing out the way to operations command, the gym, the living quarters, and any other points of interest. In the lounge she waved them to the table near the kitchen area and walked over to start the coffee machine.

"Quick assessment," Natasha demanded as they each took a seat.

"Uh," Darcy said and took a second to pull her head back into the game. "The electronic fence was a bitch. Look," she held up the index finger on her left hand. "I burned my finger."

Natasha rolled her eyes and said, with a distinct lack of sympathy, "Poor baby."

"Whatever," Darcy grumped back, and tucked her red, smarting finger into her fist. "There are some holes in the camera coverage, and the motion sensors. Obviously. The machine gun emplacement is suitably terrifying, though."

"No lasers?" Natasha needled.

"There could be," Darcy shot back. "I just didn't stumble on them. Thank Thor."

The other agent huffed a small laugh. "And then?"

"The security panel to the hanger was a piece of cake, honestly. Twenty three seconds, I timed it. Card swipe, retinal scanner, but easy enough to get past."

"For you or for anybody?"

"Probably more for me, but properly prepared, somebody else could do it pretty quick. I'm sure I can make it physically harder to get into, though. And any others like it."

"Good. And once in?"

"Computer terminal in the hanger, networked to the base's systems. That would have been more challenging if I didn't have my dad's SHIELD cracking kit on my phone. But, somebody else, especially somebody who was ex-SHIELD, could have developed something similar."

"It's on my list," Skye said as she came back to them and dropped into a seat across from them. "I started hardening the outside connections, but haven't gotten to internal yet."

"I'll give you a copy of dad's worm so you can see how it cracked in. Let's just never tell him."

"Wow, pure Stark code." Skye looked impressed. "Can't wait to see it, honestly."

"Sure, weirdo," Darcy said with a sniff. Skye laughed, and if her smile was still a little weary, some of that earlier distance was gone. Darcy patted herself on the back, mentally, glad she could work past some of that reserve.

"And then," Natasha prompted again.

Darcy took her through her steps in disabling the base, and then gave a rousing recitation of her mad dash through the hallways. "Oh, and that office Billy pulled me out of?" She said to Skye. "There's a local download of some of your files on that computer. You might want to delete that."

Skye shook her head. "Nice. Well, you just gave me something to do for the next, oh, week and a half. Thanks."

"Any time. You never answered my question about fruit."

"What?"

"Fruit. Where do you stand? I think you deserve a fruit basket or something. You know, like as an apology. Or booze. Scotch? Rum? Vodka?"

"Uh …"

"Chocolate?"

Skye blinked at her and stared for a moment, until Natasha coughed delicately.

"Never mind," Darcy waved a hand. "I'll surprise you."

"Thanks?" Skye stood and walked back over to the kitchen to get their coffee. "Agent Romanoff? Coffee?"

"Call me Natasha, please, and yes, thank you."

Skye let out a small laugh. "When I first joined up with Coulson's team, I thought about starting an Agent Romanoff drinking game. You know, take a drink every time somebody mentioned your name. But, I figured I was asking for alcohol poisoning."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," Natasha waved off the implied compliment.

Skye pursed her lips as she brought over their mugs. "Not so much."

Darcy snorted. "You'd pass out way before alcohol poisoning, anyway."

Natasha let out a long sigh of exasperation and took her mug from Skye. "Thank you. I didn't have a chance to say earlier, but it is a pleasure to meet you, Agent Skye. Darcy has had nothing but good things to say about you."

"Thanks. I can honestly say I don't get that a lot." Skye smiled a little and slid a cup to Darcy then retook her seat, he brow creased in thought. "It's nice to have visitors who aren't trying to kill or arrest us. Are either of you sticking around?"

Natasha sipped at her coffee and shook her head. "I'm only here to check in with Coulson."

Darcy tapped the rim of her mug and thought about the state of their worlds. Bad. It was bad. Everything was bad. "I can hang for a bit, if you guys need me. I mean, I need to fix some things, anyway, so I figure I'll kick it for at least today." She shrugged. "I'll leave it up to Coulson."

Skye nodded and turned her mug absently in her hands. "Good. With Fitz … well, we're down an engineer. The Bus needs some work."

"How is he?"

"The same. I mean, he woke up, but he's …" She stopped herself and took a steadying breath. "It's tough. Simmons is splitting time between here and the rehab hospital. She'll be back probably tomorrow."

"I was sorry to hear about Agent Ward," Natasha said. "I know he was your SO."

Uncomfortable, Skye shifted in her chair and a drew a finger along the grain of the table. "Yeah, well, he screwed us all over."

Natasha nodded and sipped at her coffee again. "I know how tempting it is after a betrayal to isolate yourself, but that's when it's most important to stand with the people you trust. To renew those bonds."

"I'm not going anywhere," Skye said with a frown, looking startled and like she wanted nothing more than to change the subject.

"Good. Dashyenka, what did you do after Stane's betrayal?"

That was a sucker punch. Darcy's eyes widened like a startled deer and she pushed her chair back away from Natasha. "Whoa, wait, what? No, what?"

Natasha gave her a patient but evaluating gaze over the rim of her mug. "What did you do? Do you ever talk about it? To Steve, perhaps? Or your father?"

Darcy stared stupidly for a moment, her brain scrambling for its own escape route. This was not a topic she wanted to get into. Ever. Not even a little bit. But Natasha continued to watch her. She flinched away from the scrutiny but couldn't think of how to get away from responding. "Uh … no? Clint once, sort of." She shook her head. "I'm here for the coffee, not therapy."

"We work in the shadows, I'm tired of living there, too." Natasha rubbed a weary hand over her face, suddenly seeming far older than her thirty years. "We've never talked about it. I'm curious, what did you do when you found out?"

Licking her lips, Darcy cast her eyes around the room, still hoping for an escape or a rescue. Her stomach knotted and burned in the way it always did when she thought about Obadiah Stane — a sick, potent mixture of rage and anxiety. "Dad and I worked our way through a bottle of scotch," she said after a moment.

"Healthy."

"Says you. What do you do?"

"I talk to Clint," Natasha said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, well, it probably was. Even though they were her SOs, the Natasha and Clint partnership was still a mysterious dynamic she hadn't quite cracked.

"Wait," Skye interjected. "Stane? Obadiah Stane?"

Darcy glowered at Natasha and tried to bury herself in her coffee.

"Go ahead, Darcy," Natasha prompted with a nudge of her elbow.

"No, come on," she begged, but Natasha seemed determined to wait out her reluctance. "Okay, sure, fine, he paid to have my dad murdered in Afghanistan. So, there you go. And when Tony came back, he ripped the arc reactor out of his chest and left him to die. He … I knew him since I was a kid. Fucking bastard." She wrapped her shaking hands around the warmth of her mug. "He was one of Howard's friends, and I bet he had my grandparents killed, too. He was a goddamned monster, and we never saw it. Jesus, it's only because Tony's so freaking stubborn …" Darcy couldn't continue. She cleared her throat a couple times, but she'd said all she wanted on the subject, and obstinate now, feeling cornered, she clenched her jaw and refused to go further.

"As you said, Tony is stubborn," Natasha agreed. "Irritating, infuriating, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Darcy snapped back.

"And resilient," Natasha concluded. "He doesn't give in. Neither of you do."

"We're Starks," Darcy sniffed. "What kind of world would it be if we gave in?"

Natasha nodded and looked thoughtful. "I envy you, Dashyenka. You know who you are with such certainty." A thin smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. "Look at us. The last agent," she nodded to Skye. "The granddaughter of the founder, and whoever I am today."

"The gold standard of agents, hello," Darcy corrected her, with a fortifying pat on the shoulder and a dash of worry in her heart. Natasha introspective was … concerning. Darcy had no real clue how to deal with this.

Darcy's compliment washed over Natasha, unheeded, and the other agent continued, "I was stolen as a child, shaped into a weapon, made into whatever was needed. When I broke free, I was only that weapon, only what I was made to be. I did terrible things. Things that got SHIELD's attention. They sent an agent to kill me. For months he hunted me, and I wasn't used to being prey. He finally cornered me in Riga."

Skye, looking horrified and fascinated, asked, "How did you get away?"

"I didn't," Natasha said with a shrug. "He refused to take the shot. I still don't always understand why. In that moment I was dead, and I was glad. I was so tired. I wanted it then. He talked to me instead." Her mouth twisted into a moue of remembered distaste and confusion. "I was furious. We fought and he got in a lucky punch. I woke up in a hotel room. And he talked some more. He told me I could be something else, something good. I didn't believe him, of course. He was persistent, though. He told me he believed. Such a strange word, I'd never heard it that way before. And then he took a nap." Natasha laughed, a real laugh, deep and husky.

"Jesus, Clint," Darcy breathed out, panicky and queasy at the thought of Clint asleep in a room with a still feral Natasha.

Still laughing, Natasha smiled with such fondness, and it was a look so striking Darcy's breath caught. "I thought SHIELD had sent a lunatic or an idiot. Both, probably. I could have killed him. I thought about it. Knowing him as I do now, I don't believe for a minute he was asleep, but he was giving me space, leaving the choice up to me. That was important, you see? He didn't give me a choice, he showed me I had one. So, I left, and for three days I thought about everything. When I returned he was still there, waiting, like he knew I'd come back. And he will be there when I return this time. That man who was the first to look at me and see more than a weapon. I owe him a debt I can never repay."

"He'd never collect," Darcy said, feeling unusually subdued by Natasha's story. It did go a long way towards explaining them, though.

"No," Natasha agreed, then she let out a long breath. "How much of Hydra's work did we do?"

Skye, her finger still trailing absently over the wood grain, swallowed heavily. "Too much."

Darcy frowned at both of them. No, no, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. Her friends, her people could not just give up. She wouldn't let them.

"And how much of SHIELD's work did you do?" She demanded, her voice rising. "How many lives did you save? Just from Manhattan to DC … millions. To hell with Hydra," she growled, feeling the hot burn of righteousness and stubbornness ignite in her chest. "So they were there all along, so SHIELD spent decades fighting itself. Does it suck? Yeah, of course, but God damn it, that doesn't undo everything else. We took one on the chin, and maybe we got knocked down, but I'll be damned if I stay down. I want these assholes to pay for everything they did. I want to hurt them like they hurt us. And I want to protect the next million people they want to kill."

"Damn straight," a low voice crowed in approval, and Darcy glanced up to see a lanky, handsome guy standing at the edge of the kitchen. "That was good stuff. I'm sorry I missed the first part."

"Where'd you come in?" Darcy asked.

"To hell with Hydra."

"Then you got the important parts."

He grinned and walked over, his hand out. "Antoine Triplett."

Darcy took his hand in a firm shake. "Darcy Lewis. This is Natasha Romanoff."

He blinked at that. "An honor to meet you, Agent Romanoff."

"Agent Triplett," she nodded back.

Triplett raised an eyebrow at Skye who only shrugged back. "I take it you were our wake up call this morning?"

"We were," Darcy confirmed. "You're welcome."

He laughed a little and headed off to the coffee pot. "I got stuck in the motor pool when the locks reengaged," he called to Skye over his shoulder. "Gotta fix that."

Skye tapped at her temple. "Added to the list."

"So, you a specialist, Agent Lewis?" Triplett walked back over to them with his coffee.

"Babysitter, actually."

Natasha made a small, amused sound.

"Pretty sure SHIELD prefers the term 'handler'," Skye added with a laugh of her own.

Darcy waved a hand. "Spend a day with any Avenger and you'll agree babysitter's the right word."

"Dashyenka," Natasha protested, affecting a little pout. Damn her, she was working on the puppy face, and she was getting better at it.

Darcy pointed a damning finger at her. "Including you."

"You work with the Avengers? That's tight," Triplett approved.

Skye smiled at him, and then looked over to Darcy as her grin turned slightly mischievous. "Trip here, is the grandson of a friend of a friend of yours."

"Hey now," Trip objected, looking uncomfortable.

"Is that right?" Darcy considered Trip for a minute. "Gabriel Jones?"

"It's not something I talk about." He shot Skye a betrayed look. "I'm proud of him. Just never wanted to be treated different."

"Oh, I get that," Darcy said with a nonchalant shrug, hoping to put him at ease. "But, damn." She glanced at Natasha who was watching Trip closely, too, and laughed. "Tell me I can at least tell Steve."

"Steve?"

"Steve Rogers," she clarified. "He'll get a kick out of this."

"Right, yeah, yeah, you can tell him." Trip smiled, a touch sad and wistful. "Man, I wish my granddad was still alive to see Cap back."

"Yeah. I know Steve wishes that, too." Darcy nodded and frowned thoughtfully for a moment before laughing again. Somehow, even with the world gone to hell, it felt right to let go of some things, to let herself open up. The suddenness of Natasha's brutal trust exercise aside, they'd all need it in the days and years to come. "Hell, though, this makes us practically family."

"How's that?"

Darcy spread her hands and, with just a hint of pomp, revealed, "Your grandfather knew my grandfather."

Trip sat forward towards her, his smile lighting with interest. "Your granddad a Howling Commando, too?"

Natasha rolled her eyes and muttered something in Russian into her coffee.

"Not exactly." Off Trip's smile falling back into a quizzical twist of his lips and brows, Darcy leaned in his direction and told him in a secretive voice, "He founded SHIELD."

"Founded …" He shook his head. "Who?"

"Howard Stark."

"Stark?" Trip glanced at Skye who was laughing silently and her eyes glittered with amusement. "How? He only had one kid, right?"

"Yeah," Darcy agreed, drawing out the word, waiting for it to click with him. It took a while, but in his defense, nobody had any reason to make the connection. She and her dad were really excellent at hiding their relation.

"Wait. You're not …" He squinted at her and cocked his head to one side.

"I am."

"Tony Stark? But, he doesn't …"

"He does."

"Well, damn." Trip sat back in his chair, looking a little stunned. "That's not what I expected at all."

Natasha set her mug down and and met Trip's eyes with a sharp-edged warning, "It is classified."

"Of course," Trip responded immediately. "I get that."

"We're all that's left," Darcy told Natasha in an attempt to defend her decision. "We've gotta know each other. Wasn't that the point of your little therapy ambush earlier?"

Natasha allowed that with a small nod. "It was, and as your father so frequently points out, it is your life. But, for the sake of your safety, I simply wanted to make sure Agent Triplett understands."

"No, no," he said, holding up a hand. "I get it. I really do. No worries. Won't say a word."

"Trip's one of the good ones," Skye told them, her voice quiet but firm.

"I'd expect no less," Natasha agreed.

"So, that reminds me," Darcy said, hoping to cut through this new round of awkwardness, though now that it occurred to her, her next topic of conversation probably wasn't going to be a lot better. "On the subject of family business." She looked to Natasha for the go ahead. "The Soldier?"

Natasha waved a hand, unconcerned. "He's your story to tell."

Darcy frowned, not quite sure how she felt about that. "Is he?"

"For this, yes."

Darcy opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't find anything to say to that. Her meeting with Bucky was a strange bubble of a moment made of brief terror followed by profound and lingering sorrow. She'd accepted that it happened, but she wasn't sure she'd worked through what it might have meant.

"The soldier?" Skye prompted.

"The Winter Soldier," Darcy said. "He was a Hydra assassin."

Skye blinked and grimaced. "The Winter Soldier? Well, that's not a super creepy name or anything."

Darcy sighed and tapped a restless finger on the table. "Yeah."

"I've heard of him," Trip put in, frowning as he searched his memory. "Thought he was a story."

"He's very real," Natasha confirmed, her face falling into a hard mask, grim and somehow unsettled.

"How's this family business?" Trip asked, shooting uncertain looks between Darcy and Natasha.

Darcy pursed her lips. "He was identified as Bucky Barnes."

Trip set his mug on the table with a heavy thump. "What?"

"Bucky Barnes?" Skye asked, eyes wide and startled. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes? The Bucky Barnes?"

"Yes," Natasha said, her voice tight.

"I don't understand," Trip muttered sounding almost dazed.

Natasha looked at Darcy and then turned back to her coffee, making a point of handing the story off to Darcy.

Darcy sighed. "Hydra experimented on him before Steve staged his little one-man raid of that Hydra compound back in the war. And then, as best as I can figure, they kept Bucky on ice for seventy years, de-thawing him when they needed a weapon. They messed with his head in a bad, ugly way."

"Bucky Barnes?"

Darcy's head jerked up at the new voice and she saw Coulson frozen just inside the door, an indescribable look on his face — somewhere between shock, confusion, and blunt force trauma. Billy stood next to him, staring a her, his expression blank, like this was something he was entirely incapable of processing; a pair of lanyards dangled from slack fingers.

"The Winter Soldier," Natasha told them with a sad shake of her head.

"He's a myth," Coulson replied, tipping his head to one side in a gesture of wariness and uncertainty.

"He's Bucky Barnes," Darcy replied.

"You're absolutely sure?" Coulson demanded striding over to the table, Billy ghosting along behind him, silent and baffled. "How?"

"I met him," Darcy said quietly, that part of the story, that part of the bubble, still felt raw; Steve's reaction stung and would probably for a while yet. "I mean, he's kinda looking a little hobo these days, but I recognized him."

Coulson gaped at her for a long moment and then sat heavily in a chair. "You met him?"

"Darcy has a way," Natasha muttered, a faintly amused smile playing on her lips.

"It's called stupid luck," Darcy grumbled back. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"He was the one sent in to assassinate Fury," Natasha explained to Coulson. "We engaged the Soldier several times. Rogers ID'd him."

"Is he still under Hydra control?" Coulson's eyes were bewildered, like he woke to find himself living in a strange fantasy world — one he wasn't sure he liked all that much.

"No," Darcy was quick to respond. This was important, they needed to understand what she saw in his eyes, even if she wasn't sure how it all worked. "Something broke it. Steve, I think. Bucky sort of remembered him."

"And …" Coulson stumbled to a stop, then shook his head sharply, trying to clear his shock. "How is it you met him?"

"I swear, I was not looking for him." So, maybe she was feeling defensive about it, too.

"Dashyenka, it's fine," Natasha said in a low, even voice. "You did nothing wrong."

Letting out a long breath, Darcy rubbed at her forehead. "Dad sent me down to DC to talk to Steve, and after that I wasn't in a hurry to get back to New York. So, I went to the Cap exhibit at the Smithsonian. It's just with Hydra and everything, I … well, anyway, Bucky was there, too. He was trying to remember. I convinced him to step outside and talk to me. Or, I guess, I convinced him to listen to me talk. He didn't want me to call Steve, and, well, I didn't. I gave him my word. And I gave him some money. He … I don't know what to say. He needed help, so I helped him. He wasn't the Winter Soldier, when I talked to him. I don't know who he is, but he wasn't that."

Coulson was silent for a long minute and nobody else said anything to break the heavy stillness left by this new wrinkle in the Hydra/SHIELD disaster. Coulson blinked and bowed his head. "Captain Rogers' report from his raid on the Hydra facility, said he found Sgt. Barnes in a lab, separated from other prisoners. I always wondered …"

"They used their super soldier process on him," Darcy agreed with a nod. "I don't know what they did to his head, but he was scrambled, Phil. It's not … it's bad. They took everything from him." She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. "The worst was when he was afraid they'd call him back. I couldn't get him to go with me. I couldn't get him to go to Steve. I begged him, but he wouldn't budge." She lowered her head and looked over at Coulson. "I didn't know what to do. I tried what you did with me, I mean, it was a different situation, but I tried to give him somebody to trust. I don't know how well it worked."

Coulson's drawn expression lightened and he forced a small smile. "Well, he listened. I have faith in you. You have a knack with the difficult personalities."

Darcy faked a laugh and rolled her eyes. "A lifetime of practice."

Trip choked on a laugh of his own and stood up. "Man, this is too heavy for me. I'm hungry. Omelettes?"

"Oh, me," Skye said, standing up to join him.

"Anybody else?"

Darcy raised an eager hand, but the other three declined. Billy stood to make his own escape from the brain-bending heaviness of the subject of Bucky Barnes's survival, but he handed them their lanyards before he fled the room.

"Darcy," Coulson said in a low, rough voice as Skye and Trip wandered into the kitchen. "What's your professional assessment of Sgt. Barnes?"

Darcy ran the edge of a finger along her lips and considered the question. "Lost. But, I don't think he's a danger to anybody. I mean, I think he's a danger to Hydra, and I'm not sure that his reaction is going to be rational if somebody else tries to stop him, which is probably not a comforting thought, but I don't think he's going to open fire on the general public or anything."

He prodded for clarification, "You'd recommend SHIELD stay hands off?"

"I would strongly recommend that SHIELD stay the hell away from him," Darcy said with an emphatic nod. "He doesn't want to come in. He got panicky when I brought up Steve. He's confused, and his memory is iffy. I can honestly say I don't know what he's doing right now, or what he plans to do. Again, not comforting, but I think most of his focus is on Hydra and what they did to him. He said he wanted answers. So, yeah, unless he goes off somewhere public, I think you really need to not engage."

"Alright," Coulson nodded, taking in her assessment. "Did you tell Captain Rogers?"

"Yes, and that conversation sucked. I gave Bucky my word that he could have 24 hours. Steve didn't like that. I mean, I get it. He's freaked out about Bucky, and he wants to help. But talking to Bucky was like trying to calm down a spooked horse." Darcy's shoulders slumped and she felt exhausted beyond even the sleepless night. "So, Steve's pissed and was actually kind of a jackass."

"That's a difficult position to put yourself in."

"What was I supposed to do?" She kept asking and nobody ever had an answer for her. So, until they did, they could all just suck it. "The guy's a mess, and all I could give him was my word."

"I'm not criticizing," Coulson told her mildly. "This job … we have to make difficult decisions, and sometimes they hurt the people we care about. That's never easy. When I recruited you, I believed you had the strength to stand by your principles. I'm glad to know I was right."

Never knowing how to take in that sort of praise, Darcy rolled her shoulders and said, "Well, and because I could deal with dad."

"Believe it or not, that was pretty low on my list of reasons. It wasn't your father, it was you. You were unfazed by Thor, you stood by Dr. Foster, you helped evacuate the town — all admirable. Discovering Stark was your father only made it clear to me how easily I'd overlooked you. And it was not lost on me that you allowed me to learn who your father was. Though, I have always wondered why." He stared at her expectantly, and even Natasha, who'd stayed resolutely silent, looked interested.

It was tempting to shrug and say 'I don't know', but was that really true? "The night before, I'd found out about the attack at the Stark Expo. There was so much going on all of a sudden, and all of it was completely flipping insane. You'd squared things with Thor and returned Jane's equipment. Maybe if I hadn't been so tired I wouldn't have given you the phone, but right then it just didn't seem to matter if you knew or not. But, I think … I think I just wanted somebody to know, somebody who'd get it. I didn't have anybody else to talk to."

Coulson bobbed his head at her and offered a faint, but sincere smile. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Sure, thanks for believing in me."

Coulson, bless him, didn't let that moment linger. Darcy was better at feelings than her father, but not by a whole lot. "What's your approach with Sgt. Barnes? I assume you gave him a way to contact you."

"You know me, I'm all about giving the smoking hot assassins my digits. Natasha calls me all the time. She might not look like it, but," Darcy put the side of her hand up by her mouth and faux whispered, "chatty Cathy."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Darcy, her expression promising retribution. Darcy sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, unrepentant.

"Agent Lewis," Coulson said, a firm and pointed reminder that he wasn't just her pal anymore, he was the Director.

Darcy jerked upright. "Yes, sir, sorry. I … don't know exactly. I want him to come home. That's what I want. I want him to know that he can come home."

He smiled, a little sad, and nodded. "When he reaches out to you, build on that trust. You made contact, you established a rapport—"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'rapport' so much."

Coulson's lips thinned and she shut her mouth. He waited a beat, but Darcy stayed obediently silent. "Be very clear on your goals with him, and you'll need to spend some time thinking about the best way to build this relationship."

"Coulson," Natasha muttered in a harsh, tense voice.

He held out a hand, palm up, a gesture suggesting whatever happened next was out of his control. "She made contact. He's her asset now."

Natasha sighed and sat forward, bracing her elbows on the table. "This will not be like managing your father."

Darcy frowned at the warning in her tone. "I don't think anything is like managing Tony."

Coulson's lips twitched into a near smile. "True enough. Sgt. Barnes will be a unique challenge for you, but I trust your judgement."

"Wait, wait, what are you saying?"

"I am saying that you've got another asset. Though your work with the Avengers was more in a supporting capacity, this time you'll have to be a more active lead."

"Now wait, I know that I got the Avengers gig because of dad, whatever your reasons, I know that's why Fury did it, and that I sort of … " She waved a hand in a vague gesture. "But, a level three agent—"

"No more levels," Coulson cut her off. "There are so few of us left. We need everybody to step up. You are one of the handful of agents I trust implicitly."

"Oh," Darcy stared at him for a second, then shook herself. "Training wheels are off, huh?"

Coulson looked apologetic. "They are. You haven't been a handler for very long, but are you prepared to take on Sgt. Barnes?"

"I … I guess so. I sort of feel a little responsible now. I did let him go." She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "Look, I'm not 100% sure he's going to contact me again. Hell, I'm not even 40% sure. I tried to give him something, and I think I got through for maybe a minute. But, Phil, he's so destroyed. I just don't know."

"I have no doubt you made a good start with Sgt. Barnes. I know you, I didn't have to be there to have a pretty good idea how your meeting went. You talked to him, you were calm and unafraid." She raised an eyebrow at that. "On the surface. You were undemanding and easy-going. And, yes, you let him go. You made a positive impression. He will reach out again. When he does, you need to start building that relationship. You do know how to do this, you know how to reach him, trust your instincts. They're good."

"Yeah, alright." She wasn't too sure about that, but she had as much faith in Coulson as he seemed to have in her. If he said she could do it, she'd just have to believe it, whatever other doubts she might have.

Coulson continued his instruction, ticking off points with a tap on the table for each. "This is going to take time and patience. You'll need to make yourself available to him. If he calls, you may need to drop everything and respond. He has to know you're in his corner, that he can count on your help and your support. You will have to find a way to balance him with everything else, but he has to feel like he has priority. I know you're juggling a lot right now, and this is one more ball up in the air."

"Yeah," she grimaced. "Hill and Tony are a match made in a very dark, bitter part of hell. I don't suppose you'd file for custody of me, would you?" She asked, bright and hopeful. "Otherwise, I'm moving into Clint's barn."

Natasha straightened abruptly. Darcy'd almost forgotten the woman was there, she could be still as death. Her eyes narrowed on Darcy, dark with suspicion and a smidgen of potential violence. "How do you know Clint has a farm?"

Darcy flinched back and thought very seriously about diving under the table. She knew because, well, because she was a snoop and one time she broke into Clint's apartment and his phone rang and maybe she answered it. And maybe she had a very interesting conversation with an old woman named Paula who was objecting to Mr. Barton's sheep escaping their pen again, and how if he couldn't keep a decent caretaker she'd take it up with the county. And then maybe Darcy got a few more details out of the woman, promised to pass on the message. And then, because she was a little bored and very intrigued, she tracked down the caretaker and sorted the sheep issue. Then she laughed herself sick.

"Uh, can I plead the fifth?"

"No."

"Natasha," Coulson chastised lightly. "And, no, you can't live in a barn, and I need you in New York. You're one of the few agents I have who can move freely, and your access to Stark resources is invaluable."

Darcy hummed and considered, edging away from the dark look still in Natasha's eyes. "Pepper's floated the idea of me coming out as a Stark, as a sort of defense maneuver if things go tits up when I give my deposition."

Coulson blew out a breath. "Speaking personally, I'd prefer if you didn't right now. As a former low-level agent, you'd draw less attention. Your position would afford you flexibility and the ability to operate more openly than almost any other agent I have. The choice is yours, of course, I wouldn't order you not to, and Ms. Potts is right — it would afford you some protection. I know the thought of nepotism is uncomfortable for you, but many people would accept that as the reason for your place at SHIELD and not look further. But the press scrutiny—"

"Would suck." Darcy shuddered. "Yeah. Honestly, just for that alone, I'd rather leave that as the Hail Mary option."

"If it comes to that just let me know."

"I will."

He let out a breath and his eyes drifted around the room as he got lost in contemplation for a moment. "I admit I've taken for granted that you're going to continue on with us. I hope you will, we could use you. I could use you."

"You're pretty stuck with me, Phil."

The relief on his face was profound. "Good. Then, concerning your deposition, I would like you to disavow SHIELD."

"Okay," Darcy agreed easily. "I was planning to play the poor, dumb student who got suckered into SHIELD after New Mexico, anyway. Then I go back to being Jane's assistant, so it won't be weird I'm at the Tower."

"With Stark pulling in other SHIELD agents, I'd like you to make it clear that you're not a part of that, either. The more you're off anybody's radar, the better." He laughed a little at the situation. "Without perjuring yourself too much, if possible."

"If I have to quit for a few weeks, I will. I might do that anyway," she added thoughtfully. "I'd love to get more than four hours of sleep a night."

"Gosh, that's a nice thought," Coulson commented with a wry twist to his lips.

"Right? Speaking of, though, do you need me to stick around for a while? I was talking to Skye about it earlier."

He nodded. "A few days if you wouldn't mind. We could use the help for a bit."

"Done. I'll call dad … oh, uh, there's one other thing." She winced and squinted over at him, bracing herself. "They kinda know you're alive."

Coulson's mouth dropped open and he seemed at a loss for words. "I'm … how?"

"Okay, look, it was a bad day," she told him, laying it out with a sweep of her hands over the table. "Clint and I were trying to get out of the New York base, and we did a 'who's not an evil bastard' headcount and that was super depressing. So, I told him."

"I wanted to be the one—"

"Okay, I know, but, damn it, Phil," she cut him off sharply. Really, what the hell had taken him so long in the first place? "The base was literally falling down on top of us, the world went to hell, and if we were going to have any hope for SHIELD, they needed to know you were still out there. But, Tony told Pepper. So … she wants you to call her when you can."

Running a hand over his head, he pressed his lips together for a long moment, Darcy held her breath for an explosion. In the end, he just let out a long breath and smiled contritely. "You're right. I'm sorry. Thank you for doing that. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

"No, Clint was pretty pissed." She grimaced at the memory of their fight in the musty, Cold War tunnel beneath Manhattan. "Well, not that you were alive, but that I'd kept it from him."

"You'll need to fix that," he said with a slight edge that let her know it was more of an order than a suggestion.

She waved it off. "We talked it out. I promise. We're good."

"And Captain Rogers?" He prompted knowingly.

Darcy made a face. "Ugh. Just give us a few days to cool off, huh?"

"Alright. Don't let it go on too long." Coulson stood up and let his shoulders drop, some weight easing off. "Enjoy your breakfast, then fix that fence, would you? We caught an urban explorer trying to get past it last week. Natasha? I'd like to speak to you in my office."

"Of course." Natasha stood and put her hand on Darcy's shoulder. "I'll see you before I leave."

"Okay."

The dark look returned and she warned, "And you will tell me how you know about Clint's farm."

"Right, yeah, okay, sure. Bye?"

Natasha smirked and followed Coulson out. Darcy let out a long breath and Trip dropped a plate in front of her. "So, that looked like fun."

"Sure, scary fun." She picked up the fork he'd placed, and nodded at the food. "Thanks, looks fantastic."

"No problem. You sticking around?" He took his own seat and poured them both a fresh cup of coffee from the carafe.

"For a few days."

"Great." Trip let out a relieved sigh. "I got a list long as my leg of things we need to get to, and, man, there's only one of me, you know?"

"Put me in, coach."

"You just might be my new favorite person, Lewis."

She toasted him with her fork as Skye joined them, and they fell into easy conversation about repairs and upgrades around the base.

***

Darcy pushed the welding goggles up on her forehead, poked her head out of the floor plating, and called out to Skye, "Try it now."

Skye worked at the console for a moment, before nodding to Darcy. "Reconnected."

"Thank fuck." Darcy hoisted herself out of the floor and stood to kick the plating back into place. "What the hell did you guys do to the Bus, anyway?"

"There might have been a fight or two."

"No kidding." She cast a pointed gaze at a bullet hole in the lab's severely compromised glass containment wall.

The lab as a whole was a disaster zone, half the wall was in a neat pile of pebble-sized chunks, and the doors had been ripped entirely off. One panel was propped up against the wall next to the bullet hole, something more than just damage etched into its face. She'd noticed it when she came in but got drawn immediately into trying to detangle the on-board systems.

The Bus was flight capable, but where Skye was magic with computers, there wasn't much she could do when the computers weren't connecting because the wiring and circuits were all slagged. Many of the Bus's secondary systems had been thrown over into manual. What a pain in the ass. Avionics and environmental control had been spared, at least, because if they'd been down … well, that would be more than a few days.

Darcy took a moment before jumping on the next fix, and wandered over to the panel, drawing a finger along the deep gouges scratched across its surface. "What is this?" It was a patten of some sort, almost like an electrical diagram, but nothing about it made sense.

Skye joined her and they stood together, pondering the panel for a moment. "It's on my list, too. Garrett carved that. No clue what it means. The guy was completely batshit. You should've heard his speeches about connecting with the universe. Unhinged, big time. Now, Coulson wants me to try to decode the crazy." She shrugged. "I don't even know where to start. But, with the lab servers back online, I can at least scan it and see if it matches anything in the databases." She looked over at Darcy. "Any ideas?"

Darcy stood back and crossed her arms as she considered the carvings. "Not really. It kind of reminds me of the pattern the Bifrost makes on the ground. I mean, it's not a match or anything. Not even close. Just … I don't know, dude. Sorry."

"No big deal. I'll figure it out. Somehow." Skye looked up at the ceiling, resigned and weary.

"Yeah. Okay, what's next?"

"Well, Simmons won't let anybody touch their display table, but since your dad developed it, maybe you get a pass?"

Darcy snorted and walked over to it. "Even if it doesn't, what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?" Darcy tried to bring the field up, but it sputtered into digital static and died. "Yeah, ouch. This might take a while." She walked away long enough to grab her tool kit, then crouching down, got to work prying free the maintenance panel. "Can you hand me that bag of ribbon connectors?"

Skye handed her the requested parts, then hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the table and pulled over her tablet. They worked in silence for a time, until Skye put down her tablet with a groaning sigh and kicked her foot against the base of the table in an agitated rhythm. Darcy tossed her an irritated look when the foot came a little near her head.

"He told me he was a bad guy," Skye blurted.

Darcy raised an eyebrow and pulled at a bundle of wires. "Who?"

"Ward. He used to tell me he wasn't a good guy, that he'd done bad things."

"Well, he wasn't wrong," Darcy noted dryly.

"I just keep thinking, how did I never see it? God, it was right there all the time."

Darcy sat back on her heels and looked up at Skye. "He was really good at his job. I mean, let's give him props for that. I didn't know him very well, but I didn't look at him and think 'lying scumbag'."

"But I did know him. I thought I did." Skye ran a hand through her hair. "And he even told me."

"But, they all do that," Darcy argued back. "It's spy talk for 'I've had to do crappy things to do my job'. I spend half my time around people who carry guilt like it's their favorite binky. How are you supposed to know the difference between job-related and 'I'm secretly a Hydra agent'?"

"I feel like I should have. He was my SO."

Darcy frowned and tapped Skye's foot with a wire crimper. "You're being too hard on yourself. And I share lab space with Bruce Banner, so, I know what I'm talking about here."

Skye didn't smile, she stared ahead, lost in her own world of guilt and betrayal. "Sometimes … sometimes I think he was trying to tell me what he was. Trying to get me to figure it out. But, I wasn't smart enough."

"That's bullshit," Darcy grumbled. She'd had to live with those same thoughts about Obie, except Obie never wanted to show his colors. Obie never wanted anything but power, and he'd kill and did kill to get it. Obie was a monster. Maybe Ward was, too, but the horrible reality was that real monsters never thought they were monsters, and that made them very good at looking just like everybody else.

"I don't know," Skye murmured.

"So what did he want you to figure it out for?" Darcy asked, a little exasperated. Nobody was to blame for Ward but Ward. "To save him? What?"

"Maybe. I don't know, okay? I don't know." Skye glowered and snatched up her tablet again.

Darcy stared at the guts of the display table and turned the wire crimper in her hand. "The day my dad went missing, Obie came to the house. He put his arm around my shoulders, he promised me Tony would come home. I just had to hold on, he said. He looked me in the eyes and he lied. And he lied again and again and again. Nobody saw it. Not dad, not Pepper, and sure as hell not me."

"How'd you get past that?"

"Who says I did?" Darcy tossed her a wry smile and went back to work. "Starks — we ignore, repress, and pretend that wires and machines are the best ways to cope. Do you have any idea how many suits dad built after Manhattan? I don't even know. Like forty."

"Great, thanks," Skye mumbled with a dash of petulance. "Very inspirational."

"Hey, what do I know?" Darcy connected the table to her phone and started the diagnostics program. "Well, I know Obie wasn't my fault. He was what he was, and it didn't have anything to do with me. He used us all, and when we weren't useful he'd get rid of us. Clint says we can only control what we do. And everything else?" She waved a hand in a vague gesture meant to encompass life, the universe, and everything. "I guess we just do those things we can do and get through it. Dad decided to put on a flying suit and drop terrorists. I joined SHIELD and, apparently, became the assassin whisperer. Were those the rational responses to what Obie did? No clue."

Darcy set her phone on the floor and stood up, bracing her elbows on the edge of the table. "I'm still angry. I don't know if that goes away. I do know that I don't want to let guys like Obadiah Stane rule the world, not if I have something to say about it."

Skye nodded thoughtfully and sucked at her teeth. "It hurts."

Darcy bowed her head. "So much."

"He hurt Fitz so badly," she said in a small voice.

"Want me to go kick his ass? I will," Darcy offered with absolute sincerity. She liked Fitz, and she wasn't afraid of guys like Ward. She had no ties to him, so clocking him with a brick wouldn't even nudge the needle on her own guilt-o-meter. "I've got moves now. I mean, Natasha says they're still terrible, but that's Natasha."

Skye looked down at her tablet and laughed. "Nah, it's okay. May did a number on him."

"Awesome."

Skye looked over at Darcy and frowned. "I'm not going anywhere. SHIELD is … it's all I've got. And Coulson. I wouldn't leave him. I want you to know that."

"Cool. Me, too."

"A year ago I was living in my van, being all hacktivist girl. I was gonna save the world through wikileaks." Skye rolled her eyes at herself.

"Now you've got this sweet ride," Darcy said with approval. "Way to upgrade."

"No family, a handful of friends. Now look at me." She held her arms out and raised an eyebrow at Darcy. "Check it."

"Rockin' the tac gear," Darcy agreed. "And I bet Phil's got pictures of you in his wallet, and he takes them out and is totally that guy who shows off his little girl to everybody in the line at Starbucks."

Skye snorted. "He's more a Caribou Coffee guy."

"Figures. There's one on every bus. So he's the weird dude in the suit who hassles the hippies at Caribou with pictures of his little girl. Same diff." Skye shook her head and gave Darcy a mock irritated look. "What? I'm right. He dad crushes on you."

"Whatever," Skye waved her off, but there was a hint of a real smile on her lips. Darcy took the win.

"Agent Skye?" Skye and Darcy turned to the door and watched Natasha step carefully through the cables and debris littering the floor. "I hope you don't mind if I borrow Darcy for a few minutes."

"What?" Skye blinked. "Oh, yeah, sure. She's all yours."

Darcy dropped her head down to the table top and whispered, "Thor save me."

"Thor isn't here," Natasha said, sounding almost cheerful about that. "Let's talk."

"Heimdall?"

"Stop. Come on," Natasha waved an impatient hand out into the cargo hold. Darcy pulled herself off the table and slouched after her SO.

Out in the hold Natasha was fingering a bullet hole in Lola. "Poor Coulson."

"I know, right?" Darcy frowned sadly at Coulson's other pride and joy. "I'm going to try and sneak it back to dad and get it fixed."

"He'll notice it's missing."

"Doesn't matter, I only need to get it out without him spotting me."

Natasha looked her up and down until her eyes settled on the welding goggles still on her forehead. "You look so much like your father, it's disturbing."

Darcy grinned and held out her hands. "Genetics, baby."

Natasha gave a delicate shudder. "Don't call me baby."

"Sure thing, hotness."

"Are you hoping to irritate me enough that I'll forget to ask about Clint's farm?" Natasha said with a raised eyebrow and a frosty edge to her gaze.

Darcy squinted at her and asked, "Would it work?"

"No."

"Um … then, no. Sorry." Natasha stared at her for a long moment, and Darcy groaned and gave in. "Okay, God, stop that. I was at his apartment, the phone rang, I answered, there was a thing about sheep. There, there you go. Happy?"

"Exquisitely. How long ago was this?"

"Uh … I don't know. Like a while? A year-ish, maybe?"

Natasha's severe mask cracked into a smile. "Well done. Good intel gathering."

"What?" Darcy gaped at her then threw her hands up in the air. "Are you kidding me?"

"I was curious," Natasha said with a nonchalant tilt of her head. "Clint doesn't tell anybody about it. I wondered if he'd told you or you'd discovered it by other means. If it makes you feel any better, you made him paranoid for a good six months. He couldn't figure out who called his caretaker and hired the fence crew."

"Oh, yeah, well, I was bored and it was kind of hilarious."

"Sofia Santos?"

"It was the first name that came to mind," Darcy said, lifting one shoulder, unconcerned. "It's Rico's grandmother's name."

Natasha leaned back against Lola and crossed her arms. "On a more serious topic — James Barnes."

Darcy took a deep breath moved to lean on the car next to Natasha. "Okay. Lay it on me."

"I want you to be very careful."

"I know he's dangerous," Darcy said, trying to hold off the umpteenth warning on the subject. "I've seen some of the footage from DC. The scary, scary footage. I'm not planning on taking him out for cupcakes and a mani-pedi."

"That's not what I meant. It's just as well you were the one to talk to him," Natasha stated with certainty; a certainty Darcy wasn't sure she shared. "Please take this as a compliment — you're unthreatening. It's something you're very good at, a mask you wear. I agreed to train you because you were already exceptional at encouraging people underestimate you, and you were well aware you were doing it. That's a valuable skill in espionage work, but it's hard to teach and harder to learn. You were a spy long before I got to you."

Darcy chewed on that. She'd laughed at Coulson once, and told him her cover was her life, but she'd never really thought about it quite like Natasha did. But, considering it now … hell, she had kept secrets from the top spies in the world. Not bad, Lewis.

"Like Coulson, I know how your meeting with Barnes went," Natasha continued. "I've seen you use the same tactics on me, and I've watched you with Clint. You talk to disarm, you read body language and know when to press for a reaction, when to ask questions, when to back off. You make people comfortable with you. And your tactics are fluid, depending on what you want or need. Do you want to misdirect? Or to encourage a connection?

"He listened to you because you're you. You didn't threaten him, you didn't try to force anything, you let him have his space." A tiny, knowing smile touched her lips. "That's important. By your description of his state, I'd say having somebody who talked to him without fear and without threat of violence, was novel enough that he didn't know what to make of you. That he sat and listened, meant he wants that connection. He will contact you again. Your ties to his past, with his hazy memories, through Steve and your grandfather, are further inducement to reach out to you. Some answers he'll have to find on his own, but some you can give him."

Natasha looked down at her boots while she chose her next words. "And that's what worries me — the search for those answers. Hydra is not the only organization who has an interest in the Soldier. There will be other people looking for him, dangerous people. Promise me," she looked up and met Darcy's eyes squarely, "promise me, Dashyenka, that you will not go digging. You'll want to help him, I know you, but this is too big. Don't let them come for you, too, because if you trip the wrong flags, they will come for you. It will be dangerous enough being his handler, please don't make it easier for them to identify you."

Darcy felt a cold chill down her spine and a twinge of regret that she'd agreed so easily to handle Bucky as an asset. Not complete regret, because she did feel some responsibility now, but still a teeny-tiny twinge that she'd been all too quick to say 'yes'. "I won't go digging."

Natasha drew in a long breath, looking relieved. "Thank you. If there are answers you feel you have to have, contact me. Let me get them for you."

"Okay," Darcy agreed in a quiet voice.

Reaching up, Natasha gave a little tug at the welding goggles on Darcy's head. "You're very like your father, and this time I mean it as a compliment. You both think you can fix everything, you'll throw yourself into insanity to do it, and you're both stubborn enough that you usually succeed. Just try to remember that you don't have to do it by yourself, huh?"

"Sure."

Natasha straightened and put her hand on Darcy's shoulder. "Alright, it's time for me to go. I'll send you a way to contact me if you need."

"Okay, thanks." Darcy nodded, feeling a little better about the task she'd taken on. A task she was just now realizing was bigger than she'd had any idea of when she'd sat down on a park bench next to Bucky Barnes. Odin on an Oreo, she'd just wanted to go to the museum exhibit. Why did her life keep doing this? "It was good to see you again."

Pulling a surprised Darcy into a quick hug, Natasha chuckled. "I'm never very far."

"You're terrifying," Darcy laughed back when the spy released her.

"I am," Natasha accepted with a gracious nod. "Stay safe, Dashyenka."

"You, too." Darcy waved as Natasha strolled out of the cargo bay. She watched until the other woman disappeared, then pulled the welding goggles off her head to run a hand through her messy hair and stared at the mess all around her. God, there was so much work everywhere she looked.

"Yo, Lewis, where're you at?" Trip called from the second level catwalk.

Darcy shook off her weariness, she wasn't the only one cleaning up, and waved the goggles at him. "Here."

"Hey, can you come give me a hand for a minute?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there." She took a few steps towards the stairs then shouted into the lab. "Skye, that diagnostic will take probably another half hour. I'll be back."

Skye looked up only enough to wave a hand and then went back to her tablet.

"Darcy?" She turned and saw Coulson walking up the ramp. "Did you get the fence back online?"

"Yep. It did cycle back. Hooray."

"And the panel on the hanger?" He prompted.

"Rewired, but I need to figure out a fix to make it harder to get into."

"Alright," he nodded and headed for the lab. "Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir," she gave him a dodgy salute and headed up the stairs. She didn't make it halfway before May called after her.

"Lewis? How's your hand to hand?"

Darcy paused and leaned over the stair rail, "Uh, depends on who you ask. Why?"

May cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. "I want to see you this afternoon for an eval."

"Wait … seriously?"

"Yes," May said flatly. "If you're going into the field, I want to know where you're at. 2:30 sharp."

Drooping over the edge of the railing, she moaned. "Ugh."

"Lewis."

"Yes, ma'am."

May nodded and made her own way into the lab. Darcy sighed and dashed up the stairs, hopefully out of sight.

SHIELD was a mess and a disaster — what was left of it. There was more work ahead than seemed doable. But, they were still standing, and they'd keep on standing, because the alternative didn't bear thinking about. Darcy'd seen the fallout, she'd seen the hints of a world reborn into chaos, and it wasn't a world she wanted to live in. So, like her father, like her friends, like the people she admired most, she'd keep fighting. They'd sweep up the rubble, they'd rebuild, they'd hold the line.

Stepping into the briefing area, she grinned at Trip. "Where do you need me?"