Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

SHIELD fell, and fell further still. The shockwave of the collapse shook the globe, cracking the fragile human currency of trust. Governments shuddered, treaties shattered, long-serving officials were implicated in SHIELD's crimes.

The few remaining agents, loyal to SHIELD's nobler ideals, were hounded and hunted, shunned and damned. They slipped off the grid and into a precarious twilight network of shady deals, shadier allies, and grinding uncertainty. In hiding they struggled to rebuild the shattered foundations of their agency, while also engaged in a brutal shadow war with the remnants of their dark twin, Hydra.

For two weeks, Darcy stayed with Coulson and his team, helping where she could, filling in for all the agents who'd left, or died, or been injured. There was plenty of work to be had, and not just on technical matters. Keeping up morale was a full time job all its own.

Maybe morale was a self-assigned task, but the heavy pall of depression and desperation were too much for her to take. They were feelings — awkward, uncomfortable feelings and she was desperate to thin the heaviness. If it hadn't been for Trip and the Koenigs (she honestly lost count of how many of them there were, but they were competent, jovial sorts, and plenty entertaining) helping keep things, if not light, at least somewhere above doom and gloom, Darcy might have been dealt her first, true SHIELD failure.

A few new-old agents turned up here and there, including a team lead by Agent Isabelle Hartley. They did not, exactly, get off on the right foot. Hartley's team seemed cut from that cynical, hard-bitten, world-weary spy cloth, and Darcy was most emphatically not. In fact, that sort of thing got under her skin, it made her bristly. She went out of her way to poke at Clint when he tried it. Hartley was not somebody to poke, evidently. Strike one.

The close quarters did not breed an easy friendship. Or even much of a civil working atmosphere. Darcy was not one to back down, and neither was Hartley. A few other moments of not quite being on the same page about most things followed, which led to a minor dust-up where Hartley accused Darcy of not taking things seriously enough, to which Darcy replied that she took things exactly as seriously as they deserved. Strike two.

May broke it up before Darcy's third strike, sent a weird frosty look Hartley's way, and took Darcy down to run through maintenance checks on the Bus.

"Personality conflicts happen," May observed sagely. "You've got to learn to work around them."

Darcy yanked the maintenance clipboard off its peg with an irritated snap. "I was working just fine, thank you very much."

"You stepped wrong with Hartley. It happens, get over it."

Darcy turned and gaped at the other woman. "I stepped wrong? Me?"

May let out an impatient breath and gave Darcy a narrow-eyed look. "Personality conflict," she pronounced, biting off each word. "She stepped wrong with you, too. Steer clear of each other."

"Fine."

"Good." May pointed at the plane. "Focus."

Darcy glared down at the clipboard and pulled the pen out of the clip. "I feel like I've been grounded."

"I feel like you need to run those checks and cool off."

Darcy opened her mouth to argue back, but nothing came to her. She shrugged. "You're probably right."

May smirked. "I usually am."

Tony left her alone for a few days, but as the first week turned into a second, his phone calls and texts started coming in closer and closer together. When he asked her opinion on the fire suppression systems in the Avengers' common rooms, she knew it was time to go home to New York. Coulson agreed, though not because he was desperately worried about the fire safety of the Tower. The military were hunting them all, and they'd gotten too close a time or two. He needed her to stay out and stay free.

So off she went, back to New York, and into a winter that was quickly turning dark and biting, with a thick crust of gray snow and grimy slush already covering everything, Darcy was more than happy to spend the next month hiding in the Tower. She spent her days dodging process servers, wandering from lab to lab, and working with one of Pepper's handpicked lawyers on her statement for the Intelligence Committee's inquiry into SHIELD's collapse.

Despite the initial handshake agreement with the government, Stark Industries moved ahead with its misuse of proprietary technology and breach of contract suit against the Defense Department. It was both a CYA move to get something solid in writing, and, well, had a lot to do with the fact that Tony was still far too hot about the helicarriers to let things go easily. For a few days the situation teetered dangerously, and it felt like the country was about to become the United States of Stark Industries.

Fortunately, some form of sanity prevailed, and Defense brought a settlement to the table that didn't leave Tony hissing and spitting like an angry cat. They agreed to Pepper's stipulations of oversight and control — an umbrella broad enough that she was able to cover Tony and Hill's private SHIELD startup — and in exchange, the federal government absolved SI and Tony of all culpability in SHIELD/Hydra's use of SI technology and of any property damage that resulted.

With the agreement's official signing, and feeling that she had fallback options (and a place to hide under that giant umbrella), Darcy finally accepted her summons to the Defense hearings on Capitol Hill. Then she dove into a solid week of grilling and coaching from the lawyer, that left her feeling prepared but panicky. Her life was full of secrets, and if the friendly lawyer who was trying to help her could dig and pry and start to make some notable scratches in the surface of those things, were the Feds going to take a backhoe to her life? A little panic was warranted.

Finally, the day of her deposition came, and though the hearing was three hours long, it turned out to be almost disappointingly anticlimactic. Darcy said "I don't know" a lot, which tended to be actually true and made it easier to avoid extreme perjury. Though, there was only so far she could walk the line and still do as Phil instructed. With a silent apology to the skies, she disavowed SHIELD, then stated her intention of returning to being a lowly lab assistant.

The recess before the Committee would announce their decision was the worst part, honestly. Darcy fidgeted and twitched the whole time, despite her lawyer's whispered promises that it would all be fine. When they got around to reconvening — apparently they'd only been out for thirty minutes, but it felt interminable — the Committee cleared her of any wrong-doing, officially released her from SHIELD, thanked her for her testimony and service, and … that was it. She walked out a free, slightly dazed, non-terrorist.

Of course, not even even an official government pat on the head and get-out-of-jail-free card made her SHIELD history entirely vanish. About a month after the hearing, newly minted Brigadier General Talbot and his douchestache tried to grab her off the streets. If he hadn't had six armed and camo-clad SpecOps dudes with him, she would have tased the ever-loving-hell out of him. She almost did it anyway, just on principle.

Darcy knew who Talbot was, alright. Phil'd mentioned him a time or six, and she only had to turn on the TV to see him enjoying his fifteen minutes of puffed up chest-thumping and firm promises to rid the country of the last of the SHIELD terrorists. The fact that she'd been cleared didn't seem to matter all that much to him. Oh, it's fine, he said. She wasn't in trouble, he assured her. He just wanted to talk.

It was insulting that he thought she was stupid enough to buy the crap he was selling. Her hand twitched towards her taser again, but Talbot just smirked and the SpecOps dudes all made a point of squaring their shoulders and dropping their hands to their side-arms. So, plan B. Playing to her strengths, and the fact that Talbot chose to approach her in public, in the middle of the city, Darcy made a scene worthy of the best Oscar-bait melodrama, then called Jane, who called Thor, who showed up five minutes later.

Dropping out of the sky like a tempest of righteous fury, Thor more than lived up to his billing as the God of Thunder, and the SpecOps guys backed up, though the General held his ground and tried to stare down the towering Asgardian — Talbot had a spine, she'd give him that. However, despite Talbot's own bluster, a threatening clap of thunder tore through the clear, winter-brittle sky, putting a hair-raising and awesome end to the confrontation. Darcy laughed so hard Thor had to help her walk back to the Tower (or rather, he tucked her under his arm like a favorite stuffed animal until she insisted she could manage on her own).

Things went quiet-ish after that. Nothing was ever truly quiet with a superhero father, the ex-deputy director of a disgraced spy agency (who'd decided she and Darcy were now best buds — which freaked Darcy out more than anything else that had ever happened to her before in her whole and entire life), a Norse god, a pair of hyper-intense astrophysicists, and one self-deprecating particle physicist with anger issues. But, sort of low-key. For them, anyway.

The winter, however, was determined to test the limits of how long their low-key could last. They might be living in a giant skyscraper, but the weather still kept her trapped inside, and a dash of cabin fever was starting to gnaw at them all. Darcy finally asked Thor if he thought maybe Ragnarok had come early. It hadn't, he promised, though he did admit the thin light of the cold, blue days, strongly reminded him of Jötunheim. Then they both went to the windows and stared out, looking for Frost Giants. Well, she was looking for Frost Giants; who knew what Thor was looking for.

Her reprieve from the months of stress came with a phone call from her brother, and a plea to join him at home for an early spring break; his winter semester project having ended early. Darcy jumped at the chance to run away to sunny California for a couple of weeks with her sane family.

Unfortunately for Sam, she never claimed to be the sane member of the sane family.

"Damn it, Lewis, did you just—"

"Yes, I did. Suck it, Lewis," Darcy crowed at her brother in glee.

"That's it, I'm done," Sam snarled, gripping his controller hard enough she could hear the plastic squeal.

"Quitting? Aww, poor baby." She gave him a mock pout and laughed.

"Oh no, I'm done being nice," he shot back.

"I will end you," Darcy pronounced grandly. "I will break your bones, bind your soul to the depths of hell, and then—"

"Wait!" Sam cried, tapping at the buttons in harrowing desperation. "No! How did that happen? What the hell, Darcy?"

Darcy continued, enjoying herself far too much and deep in the mockery zone. "And then I will make you weep for every decision you've ever made in your life that led you to this moment."

"My engines blew up?" Sam squawked, outraged. "How the fuck, Darce? Did you— are you cheating?"

"And then, with your last breath, as you choke on your own blood and regrets—"

"Darcy, come on. You have to be cheating. Stop it," Sam whined, thumbs flying in panic over the face of the controller.

"You will know that your God has abandoned you, and you got your ass handed to you by your sister." Darcy tapped at the buttons with dramatic flair, before tossing her controller onto the coffee table and, with the sound of the victory music, she raised her hands to the sky. "And I bathe in your tears! Revel in your anguish! I will grave my triumphs upon the stoniest peaks that generations to come will know my glory!"

Sam threw down his controller next to his sister's and sat back, glaring sourly at her. "This is why nobody wants to play video games with you."

"Just remember," she said with an evil smirk, "this suffering you brought upon yourself."

"For agreeing to play with you," Sam grumped.

"Writhe, writhe, little brother. Writhe in the agonizing, bitter knowledge of your failures."

"You are the worst. Also, you need to stop hanging out with Thor," Sam shoved at Darcy's shoulder.

"What?" She asked, finally breaking from her grand pronouncements of triumph. "I can't be flowery and poetic on my own?"

"It's increased by like a thousand since he's stuck around."

"He does have a way with words," Darcy acknowledged with another laugh, while Sam just glared.

The ringing of Darcy's phone spared Sam from another round of gloating. Frowning at the generic ringtone, Darcy picked up the phone and puzzled over the unknown number — it was an L.A. area code, and while first instinct would say 'wrong number', considering her own number was now a New York 646, the odds seemed slim.

"Thank God," Sam groaned. "Though, if it's Tony, tell him it's not a Nippleosaurus."

Darcy glanced over at him with a skeptical frown. "Nippleosaurus?"

"Linhenykus Monodactylus. They're fingers! Not nipples!"

Shaking her head, Darcy answered the phone. "Hello?"

There was a beat of silence before a low voice responded, "I'm calling for the lady who fell on a grenade for me."

Darcy sat up straight, eyes wide, shocked. Coulson and Natasha telling her he'd call was one thing, but she never entirely believed it. "Bucky?"

"Bucky?" Sam echoed.

Darcy waved him off and stood, walking quickly to the front door and stepping out onto the porch, closing the door firmly behind her, shutting out Sam.

"Bucky?" She asked again.

"Yeah, I guess."

Letting out a long breath, Darcy found herself smiling a little. "Well, that's a step up from 'I don't know'."

He made a weird wheezing, rusty sound that might have been laughter. "I guess," he said again.

"So … what do you need?" That sounded abrupt, even in her own head and she winced. She was supposed to be assuring him he was her priority, not sounding like he was an irritating interruption. She tried again, "Not that I'm not, you know, happy to hear from you. How are you? How's things? Blow up anything fun lately? See any good movies? How about them Angels?"

He maybe laughed again. "I'm … okay, I guess."

"You didn't go back to Hydra, I'm assuming. So, win."

"I guess."

Frowning, she cocked her head to one side and asked, "Is this the new game we're playing?"

"No."

"What can I do for you?"

"Tell Steve to stop looking for me."

"Sure."

"That easy?"

Darcy snorted. "I'll tell him, sure. I mean, it's hilarious how you think he'll listen to me about this, but, yeah, I'll totally tell him."

Bucky let out a long breath, half sigh, half exasperation. "I figured I'd try."

"Tell him yourself. I'll give you his number. I don't actually know where he is right now, but I don't think he's in California. It'd take him a few hours to get here. You'd have a good head start."

There was another moment of silence and Darcy shifted her feet, feeling anxious, not ready to lose the connection to him, and feeling like she was botching this whole thing. Build the trust, Phil said. Sure, Phil, you build the freaking trust with the skittish POW-slash-mind-controlled-assassin. Where to even begin?

"Was he angry?" Bucky asked at last.

"With me, not you," she told him lightly. Steve was still a little ticked, and, frankly, so was she. Promises to Coulson to mend the relationship aside, the subject of her meeting with Bucky was a touchy one. They'd come back from it, somewhat, but with Steve off on his hunt, and Darcy juggling three insane jobs, they hadn't had much chance to clear the air in person. Though they'd reached a silent agreement to shelve the topic for the moment, it still wrapped around all their conversations like a wicked, thorny brier.

"Should I apologize?"

"Nah. I knew it was coming when I talked to you instead of calling him."

"Why did you?"

"Because you're his friend, I told you."

"Can we meet?"

Maybe she hadn't entirely made a mess yet. She snatched at the chance without hesitation, "Sure, where?"

"Hollywood, there's an observatory—"

"Griffith Park," Darcy confirmed with a nod.

"Yeah. Two hours?"

"Alright. Should I bring anything? You need money? I know how much super soldiers eat, I assume super assassins are bottomless pits, too."

"No, it's fine."

"If you're sure."

"Don't tell him."

She groaned. It might be a sore spot, but she still couldn't keep this from Steve. "I'll have to tell him eventually. Can we just go with a standing 24 hour rule?"

"Fine. Another grenade?"

"Builds character. Probably."

He sort of laughed again, a dry chuckle that he seemed to almost choke on. "Two hours."

"Oh, hey," she called out before he could disconnect, "can you give me a sign here that this isn't a trap? I'm not saying I think it is, but other people get touchy when I agree to shady meetings with assassins. I don't know why, I mean, hell, this is practically a regular Tuesday for me."

There was a beat of silence and then she heard the curiosity in his voice when he asked, "What do you do on Mondays?"

"Try to keep super geniuses from ripping apart the fabric of reality."

"Busy lady."

"My week, so booked. Though intergalactic diplomacy Thursdays are a rockin' good time."

"Fun," he said with a flatness that suggested he might have regretted asking. "It's not a trap. I could take you now."

Darcy froze and felt a chill slip down her spine. Forcing herself to continue to sound light and unperturbed, she dropped her voice into a husky, impertinent growl, "Sexy, but I have to draw the line — no taking with my little brother in the house."

"Understood. And you have my word."

"Good enough. And I promise not to call in reinforcements."

"Two hours. I'll find you."

He ended the call and Darcy stood on the porch for a few long minutes, staring across the street, wondering if she'd catch a glimpse of lurking assassins behind Mr. Moore's bushes. There was no way on Earth she'd see him if he didn't want to be seen, and she tried not to think about how he'd found her. Introducing herself as Stark, not Lewis, had been a way to try to connect with him, but also a way to put some distance between the dark world of assassins and the evil men who used them and the people she loved. She really didn't like this coming to her family home.

Dear God, let him be at least a little Bucky still.

"Bucky?"

Darcy slumped at her brother's voice. "Just some dude I met in DC."

"Called Bucky, right." Sam huffed, sounding irritated. "I remember when we were kids, you used to let me play him sometimes."

She laughed and tried to bluff. "Bucky Barnes? Come on, it's been 70 years."

"Yeah, and then you brought Captain America home for Thanksgiving."

"But, Steve was on ice for that whole time," she countered.

He raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall, body language declaring loudly that he didn't buy a word of her bull. "And yesterday I answered your phone and talked to an actual Norse god, so …"

Darcy squinted at him, watching his face for a long moment. "Say nothing."

Expression falling into a confused frown, Sam rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I thought he died."

"So did everybody. I'm serious, Sam. Check the serious face here. Say nothing," she warned darkly.

He blinked and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I see the face." Biting his lips, his face changed from confused to concerned. "It's really him? How did you meet Bucky Barnes?"

"It doesn't matter," Darcy said with a shrug.

"Come on, Darce, don't be like this," he exclaimed with an exasperated groan. Narrowing her eyes, she considered him for a moment. He always insisted he wanted to know, but then got weirded out and pissy when she told him things. This was such a fragile situation, she couldn't risk him running his mouth to somebody else. Somebody like Tony maybe, or God help her, Steve.

"You remember how he was captured during the war?" She asked.

Sam brushed his scraggly curls out of his face as he thought. "Uh, yeah, with the 107th? Cap broke 'em out."

"Right, yeah, well, he was experimented on before Steve got there."

Sam winced and looked a little pale. "Geez. Was he in a glacier, too?"

"Not exactly. Let's just say Hydra kept him on ice."

Pushing himself off the wall, Sam's eyes widened in fear and panic. "Hydra? Darce, what are you doing?"

"It's complicated. And, screw you, I'm not Hydra. And neither is he. They just used him."

"I didn't mean, I just …," he waved around a flustered hand, and brushed at his curls again — his deep anxiety tell. "Used him to do what?"

"Nothing I'm going to talk to you about."

Setting his jaw, he glared at her. "Why's he calling you?"

"Because I met him in DC, and he needs a friend, okay?"

"No, no, not okay."

"Wow," she breathed out and felt her nostrils flare in irritation. "I don't need your permission to do my job."

"Your job?" He threw his hands up, aggravated. "But, you're out. SHIELD is gone. You're back in the lab with— you're not, are you? Oh my God, are you running some sort of underground SHIELD thing?"

Darcy waved a hand, scoffing. "SHIELD might be gone, but the Avengers aren't."

"He's not an Avenger."

"He's Steve's friend, and he won't call Steve, so that makes him my job." She pushed past him, nudging him aside none too gently, and walked into the house.

He followed her, dogged and silent, as she headed into her room, looking for a box she'd kept with her since she met with Coulson. She might not have believed Bucky would call her, but she tried to be prepared. She found the box in her luggage and turned, surprised when she bumped into her brother. "Look, I've got to go. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Where are you going? You're not meeting him, are you?"

"None of your business," she tossed over her shoulder as she headed back to the living room searching for her bag. "I'm sorry this came to the house, but, yeah, still not your business. Stay out of it, Sam."

"But, should you go alone? You shouldn't go alone. I can come with you. Maybe you should call Tony."

"Jesus, no." Darcy scooped up her bag from the floor and dug through it for her keys, and once they were found, she dropped the box in and shoved her phone into her pocket. Mentally running through a list of things she needed, she nodded to herself and tried to leave, but Sam blocked her way.

"I think you should," Sam said, persistent as only little brothers could be.

Darcy growled, "Call Tony and die."

Sam pursed his lips unhappily. "What did Hydra do to him?"

Shrugging off the question, she slung her bag across her body and crossed her arms, glaring at him. It was hard when he was nearly a foot taller than her. When the hell had he gotten so tall? Still, she had a lifetime of practice. He grimaced and looked away. "I think you should remember I'm a trained, scary, black ops agent."

Scoffing dismissively, he said, "How many times have you told mom and dad you're just a babysitter?"

"A babysitter trained by the Black Widow and Hawkeye." She'd never told him that and she enjoyed watching his eyes widen. Smirking, she brushed past him again, headed for the door.

"But, you're not the Black Widow," Sam called, catching the strap of her bag.

Turning back around to face him, she tried to reassure him. "And for this I don't need to be."

"But you said Hydra did stuff to him," he argued. "What if they're still using him?"

"They're not."

"How do you know?"

"Sweet baby Thor, Sam! I just know, okay. You've got to trust me on this. This is what I do."

Eyes wide with panic again. "Please, let me come with you. I'll stay in the car, I promise. But, if it looks like there's trouble, I can call Tony."

"No."

"I'll follow you," he warned.

"I will ditch you by Azusa," she assured him with an unconcerned shrug. "Stay out of this."

"Come on—"

"Bucky is not going to do anything to me. Except maybe frustrate me. It's hell having a conversation with him. Look, it's in public, in the middle of the day." Not that that would really stop the Winter Soldier, but Sam didn't need to know that.

Relaxing a little, Sam nodded, but still looked unhappy. "Okay."

"I'm serious about not calling Tony. If you do that, that'll be unforgivable, do you understand?" She poked him in the chest with her finger. "I'm not joking. I want Barnes to come home; if you bust this for me, I will bust you."

Sam rubbed at his chest and scowled. "I get it."

"I need him to trust me. Don't make me a liar."

Nodding, Sam looked away from her. "Fine."

"This is actual spy stuff," she pressed. He needed to really, truly understand this. "You need to listen to me. If you don't, people could get hurt. Actual people, actually hurt."

Grinding his teeth he nodded jerkily. "I got it. But, if you're not home by the time mom and dad get back from work—"

"Then I'm stuck in traffic. I'll call."

"If you don't, I will call Tony," he tipped his chin up, stubborn.

Darcy knew her brother well enough to know he could and would follow through on the threat. Glancing at her clock, she calculated the time it would take to get to the observatory, the time it would take to get back, and padded in an hour for whatever Bucky wanted. It would be close.

Sighing, she relented. A little. "Okay, here's the deal. I'll call you when I'm on my way back home, if I'm in trouble or something I'll tell you I'll be late because I need to run an errand for my dad. Play along, then call Tony when I hang up. Got it?"

Sam looked relieved and resolved. "Yeah."

"If I need to do something else, I'll just tell you. Errand for dad is the 'send in the reinforcements' phrase. Nothing else. Or, well, unless I yell something like 'oh my God, call Iron Man.' Then, yeah, do that."

Given the sense of security in having something to do in case of trouble, Sam turned mulish again. "Are you going to tell Steve you're palling around with his best friend?"

"Not that it's any of your business — because guess what? It's still not — but, Bucky and I have an understanding that I don't keep this from Steve. Again, stay out of it."

The fight went out of Sam, but he still looked unhappy. "Fine."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, you're not the only person disappointed in my life choices."

"Not really," he grumbled irritably. "I don't get your life."

"Guess it's a good thing it's my life and not yours."

"Don't be a jerk," Sam grumbled.

Darcy fired back with a terse, "Shove the judgement, then."

"Whatever." Sam stomped back over to the couch and dropped like a guy-shaped boulder to the cushions, picking up his controller again, glaring at the TV screen.

"The world's a Goddamned mess right now," she waved her hands at him. "Somebody has to try and fix it."

"Why you?"

"Because—"

"Because," he echoed in a mocking tone. "Great."

"Because I said I would. SHIELD may be a disaster, but the world still needs it. Still needs people to deal with the big, heavy crap."

"Yeah, SHIELD was so awesome."

"What it was, maybe not, but the idea of it, the reason Howard helped found it, it's important. I have a responsibility, and I'm going to see this through."

Sam didn't reply, just started a new game, filling the room with tinny music and the roar of digital engines. Darcy flipped him off and left him to his pouting.

It took about five miles for Darcy to cool off. There was a reason she didn't tell her family about 90% of her life. Sometimes she wondered if she was a coward, wanting only to avoid dealing with their concerns and their fears. Other times, she knew it was simply better this way. She was going to do what she was going to do, whether they approved or not, and she couldn't spend her energy fighting out from under their smothering worry. There were not enough hours in the day to try and reassure them that she knew what she was doing.

Traffic at mid-day, post-lunch, pre-early rush hour wasn't terrible and she took some time to make a couple of stops before pulling into the observatory's parking lot. Getting out, she wandered towards the building, and paused to take in the haze-shrouded city below. With a deep breath of warm not-quite-spring air, she reminded herself that, yes, this was her job. She'd made promises — to herself, if nothing else.

Finding a bench, she sat, stretching her legs out, and reveling in the Southern California sun. It might not have been Ragnarok, but it was still cold as hell in New York and the novelty of snow had long worn off.

Bucky joined her about five minutes later, being good enough to walk up where she could watch him approach. He'd swapped the skeevy unibomber look for slightly less skeevy long-sleeved t-shirt with a faded Dodgers logo and a Dodgers ball cap.

"The Dodgers, really?" She called out when he was close enough. "I don't think we can be friends anymore."

He smiled a little. It looked more natural than the last time he'd tried. "You're breaking my heart, doll."

"Your heart? What about mine? I had such high hopes for you, Barnes."

Taking his seat next to her, he watched her for a moment with those icy blue eyes. She was relieved to see some of the aching emptiness had faded. Not a lot of it, but enough that there was life in his face again.

"Did you call Steve?"

"Every time? Come on," Darcy groaned. "No, I didn't call Steve. If I give you my word, I'll always do my best to keep it, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded and looked away, out over the park. "You'll call him tomorrow."

"Yeah. Who knows how he'll take it this time."

"Sorry."

"Make it up to me by coming home some day."

He was silent for a few second before quietly muttering, "I don't have a home."

Darcy sighed. "Not to deny you your well-earned angst, but you do. You've got Steve. You've got me. Maybe it's not a lot, but you've got it anyway."

He let out a long breath and gave her a look that bordered on impatience.

"What? I get that you probably don't remember, but that doesn't make it untrue. Besides, I'm awesome. You're lucky to have me." She sniffed and sank back on the unforgiving wooden bench. Maybe someday they'd meet someplace with actually comfortable furniture. Then following Phil's example of giving a little of himself, she told him, "I've got a best friend. If he lost himself, if he forgot everything, I'd hope he'd somehow know he could always come home to me. And, pal, I'd search the whole world for him."

"What's his name? Your friend?"

"Rico."

Nodding to himself, Bucky leaned back next to her. "I think I found where they had me."

"You didn't remember where you were?"

"Not really. I remember the inside, but not the outside. They'd … before they'd send me out, they'd … they'd run the program. It fades. That's why they kept doing it." He closed his eyes, face creased in pain. "Again and again and again. Every time I'd go in, every time I'd go out. Again and again."

Darcy felt sick, and then she felt angry. Like more pissed off than she could ever remember feeling. It rivaled her feelings when she'd discovered Obadiah's betrayal. Standing up from the bench, she paced in front of him, her hands clenching and unclenching in helpless rage. He watched her, his face blank.

When she'd burned off some of the anger, she turned back to him. "What do you need? Explosives? I can get you explosives. I can get you a hell of a lot of explosives. I can get you a freaking tank. Blow the hell out of that place. Or, you know, I've got a Norse god, if you're feeling more Wagnerian."

"I don't know," he said with a small shrug, looking away from her. "I don't want to go back." Taking a rough breath, he licked his lips. "I don't want to go back until I know whatever made me go back to them is gone. I can't—" Glancing up at her, his eyes mournful and pleading. "I can't."

"Then don't. It's fine," she said quickly, reassuring him as well as she could. "Save it for later. It'll be cleansing when you're ready. I'm sure. Maybe. Hell, I'd feel better." Spinning around, she dropped back onto the bench. "I can give Steve the location if you'd rather he did it."

"No, it's mine. But, I have other information." Digging into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a thumb drive. He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head and handed it over. It was a struggle for him, but she found the small show of trust heartening. "Give it to Steve. Or your pops, or whoever."

"Will do. Thank you." She shoved the drive into her own pocket. "And I have something for you."

"I don't need—"

"Whatever," she cut him off with an off-handed wave and pulled her bag into her lap. "Humor me."

He grunted but sounded amused. "Sure thing, doll."

"Normally, I don't appreciate the pet names from dudes I barely know, but you make it work. No real urge to punch you in the face. Go figure," she said with a shrug. He laughed that sad, rusty half-laugh of his.

Pulling out a thick envelope, she handed it to him with a small, warning glare. "Money. Just take it. Don't argue."

He took the envelope and set it next to him. "Must be nice to be loaded."

"Clearly, it can be useful."

Next she pulled the matte black box from her bag. Slipping off the lid, she plucked out the device within. "Okay, Starkphone." Turning it on, she selected the network settings and showed it to him. "Untraceable. It'll network hop to mask usage. You only need to give it a second to find a network to crack into, and once there, you're good to go. Also, encrypted. As far as I know, nobody's broken that yet, and since these aren't on the market, nobody's got one to try and break into anyway.

"If you need to go ultra secure for whatever reason, jump on the Starknet." She showed him the setting to select. "The only thing with that is that dad might notice somebody on the network. It shouldn't flag, there are only a handful of users, so there's no reason to check. And since this is a valid phone with a valid ID, it won't trip anything. But, just, you know, so you know."

He took the phone from her hand and turned it in his for a moment. "Thank you."

"Sure. I've put some numbers on it already. Mine, Steve's, dad's, Thor's, and Phil Coulson's." Bucky frowned at the last name. "He's the new Director of SHIELD. What's left of it. He's a good guy, really. He's trying to rebuild SHIELD, but, the right way. He's got a few resources left. If you need something, and you can't reach me, you can go to him. He won't try to hold you or anything. Just, if you do that, promise me you'll take a picture of his face when he sees you."

"Why?"

"Oh, he's a big time fan. The look on his face when I told him you were alive — it was like telling him Santa was real. Sort of. Once he got past the shock." He stared at her, brows drawn down in uncertainty. "He recruited me. He is a good man. I promise. I wouldn't send you to somebody I thought would hurt you."

Bucky still looked dubious and stared down at the phone.

"One of his team, a guy called Triplett, he's the grandson of one of your old Howling Commando buddies."

"Who?"

"Gabe Jones?"

"I don't … I don't really remember." Bucky frowned and rubbed at the face of the phone with his thumb. "Spoke German and French?"

She grinned back at him. "That's the one. Communications specialist."

Doubtful of his own knowledge, he shrugged. "Okay."

"Coulson knows I'm giving you his number. He says to tell you he'd be honored to help you."

Bucky glanced over at her, surprise clear on his face. "Really?"

"Really."

Amusement touched his lips for a minute. "Didn't lecture you about talking to assassins?"

"No, that was mostly Steve, but he's just a worrier. I mean, Phil was a little concerned, but I am one of his agents, so I'm sure he feels like he has to give the default warning. For protocol's sake."

"Your pop?"

She held out a hand and tipped it side to side. "Meh. He's got some hangups at the moment. It's … well, never mind." She didn't want to get into what was going on with Tony. Mainly because, for the first time, she was having trouble getting a read on him. Weary, she supposed. Angry. Hurt. Plus, residual PTSD. None of that was anybody's business, not even for the purposes of trust building. "He's going through some stuff."

"What about—" He cut himself off from his list of people who might be cranky with her. Darcy followed his gaze to a couple of cops strolling up the steps nearby.

"Relax, dude," she muttered. "There's nobody looking for you but Steve."

"And Hydra," he corrected. And, she supposed, the mystery 'other people' who had Natasha so worried. One creepy terror-mountain at a time, Lewis.

"Well, they're just dumb," she said stoutly.

Bucky's eyes slid over to her and the corner of his mouth ticked up. "Yeah."

They watched the officers casually observing the other people around. They didn't seem to be looking for anybody, though. Probably only out stretching their legs and doing a little foot patrol.

"If they're looking for anybody, it would be me anyway," she told Bucky with a casual shrug.

"Why?"

"Oh, just a little thing about SHIELD being declared a terrorist organization. I mean, officially I was cleared, but there's some dickbag named Talbot who's still hot on stringing us all up. He's already tried to grab me once. I was low-level, but reported directly to Director Fury, so that made me an extra suspicious character in his eyes. And, well, while I disavowed SHIELD, clearly I haven't actually left. So …"

She looked over at him and gave his shoulder a nudge when his eyes narrowed and he stared more intently at the cops. "Subtle, dude. Ignore them. Check out the view or something."

"If they come over here—"

"Then let me do the talking. I'm super good at it."

"I've noticed," he said with a degree of dry humor that might almost have been insulting if her talking ability hadn't been one of her proudest skills.

"Right, so leave that to me. Things that require talking, I'll take. If Hydra commandos show up, I will totally leave that to you."

"Alright," he agreed.

"At least we got the suspicious exchange of packages out of the way before they turned up." She laughed. "Besides, if they tried to arrest me I'd just scream Stark, and a swarm of lawyers would descend like a cloud of briefcase-carrying locust. It would be a spectacularly awesome sight."

He huffed at that, but seemed mollified.

"Speaking of screaming Stark," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, "can I ask how you found my parents' house?"

His gaze drifted away from the cops and down to her. There was a spark of amusement in his blue eyes. "You said your name was Stark."

"While that's not technically true, it's also not completely a lie," she rushed to explain, pointing a finger at the sky as she made her argument. "I am a Stark. I was trying to, you know, connect with you. I hoped you'd recognize the name."

He nodded, but still looked amused. "I was curious, he gets mentioned all the time, but there was nothing about you. There was a company photo, you're listed as Lewis."

Frowning, she tried to think of the photo he meant. She was never in the company photos, for very good reasons. Reasons like being outed by scary assassins. "Project team picture?"

"Yeah."

Team photos at the end of a project were an SI tradition, for the company archives, and the team picture for Jericho was the one exception to her ban from company pictures. Given the classified nature of that project, and with the fallout from the team leader being kidnapped by terrorists for three months as they tried to force him to recreate the weapon, the photo wasn't ever made public.

She sighed and gave him a flat look. "Did you break into SI?"

His chin dropped and his lips ticked up into a near-smirk. "No."

"Wow, that is a big, fat lie."

He just shrugged and fiddled with the phone for a second.

"Okay, so why did you break into SI?" She prompted.

"I needed a secure computer. It seemed like a good place to go."

"Sure, sure, best in the world. Next time, though, could you maybe just ask me? The last thing I want is you and dad getting into it."

"I could take him," Bucky said with a dispassionate, yet chilling, certainty.

"Without the suit, probably. I mean, I don't know, he's pretty squirrelly. With the suit?" She grimaced, the Winter Soldier had decades of training on her dad, but her dad had a massive weaponized suit of armor and a crazy genius brain. "Let's not find out. I'd rather neither of you got hurt."

"I didn't know you were in California," he said, sounding apologetic but not the least bit regretful. "And I got curious."

"He's spent my whole life protecting me," she informed him. Not as an excuse for her little last name fib, but so that he understood. If this was going to work, she realized they needed to understand each other. This had to go both ways.

He looked at her for a long minute then nodded firmly. "Good."

Raising an eyebrow, she sat back and looked out at the sprawl below. The city ghosted through a stubborn marine layer, disappearing in the white horizon, and the damp in the air lifted up the evasive, sweet perfume of blooming jasmine and the heavier green of cut grass. It was a beautiful Spring afternoon. Could the Winter Soldier feel it?

"I can set you up with a computer," she offered after a moment of contemplation.

Shaking his head, Bucky tilted the phone towards her. "This is enough."

"Alright. Well, I should probably go before my brother freaks and calls Tony." She stood, pulling her bag back across her body. "You good? Need anything else? I was serious about the explosives."

He shook his head and stood as well. "Some other time maybe."

"Sure. Just give a shout."

"I'll walk you to your car."

"Chivalrous, but unnecessary."

His eyes darted over her shoulder then back to her. "The police are still here. It'll look suspicious if I don't leave with you."

"Or it'll look like we're two friends meeting and then, you know, saying goodbye. Oh, or we're having an illicit affair, and we meet at the observatory to sit chastely next to each other. We could totally be a Jane Austen novel thing."

He stared at her for a moment, clearly not sure how to respond to that, before deciding to simply ignore it. "After you, doll," he said with a stubborn half-smile.

"Fine."

It struck her as they strolled to the parking lot, that maybe he simply wasn't anxious to see her leave. He'd been alone for a long, long time, nobody to talk to, maybe it was nice to just chat — not that he was super chatty — without somebody trying to kill or control him.

"Hey, so," she said as they stopped next to her car. "Give me a call if you need anything else, or even if you don't."

"Sure," he agreed, his eyes scanning restlessly over the parking lot.

"I get that you're not super talkative, and that's fine, but if you ever just want to kibitz." She waved a hand at him. "Don't make me wonder, yeah?"

"I got ya, doll," he assured her with a tilt of his head.

"Alright." She pulled out her keys and briefly considered giving him a hug, but thought better of it. He probably wasn't in a hugging place yet. "Good seeing you again, Barnes. Don't be a stranger."

He nodded once more before stepping back to let her open the car door. "Don't let him give you too much guff about this."

"Don't worry about it." She laughed a little, and grinned at him. There was a real fear plaguing her mind that he'd decide he was too much trouble and then he'd stop calling, and that would be a hell of a lot worse than dealing with Steve. So she put on a good face. "Look, I think … I think so long as you're keeping in touch with somebody it'll be okay. Steve will deal. And, even if you can't remember, just know this is a guy who'd go to hell and back for you."

He let his eyes wander again, looking uncomfortable.

"Anyway," Darcy continued. She'd pitched again, and she'd keep doing it, but she knew when to back off. "I'm guff-resistant. You should meet my mom; she's never met guff she couldn't deflect. I've learned from a master."

His discomfort faded into a reluctant pseudo-smile. "Good to know."

"And if you need—"

"I'll call."

"Good."

He considered her for a moment. "Better get moving, doll."

"See you around, Barnes."

"Count on it."

Despite Coulson's faith, Darcy wasn't entirely convinced she was cut out for this level of handling. The Avengers were one thing; they were kind of like cats, you just had to feed them and play with them every once in a while and they were fine. Sure, sometimes they brought you home something dead and gross, but it was out of love.

Bucky, though. Bucky. The Winter Soldier. Seven decades of cruelty, torture, and deprivation. Dear God. What could she do against that? A little kindness here and there was all well and good, but it was a single drop in the ocean of inhumanity Hydra'd drowned him under for more than half a century.

And yet, he'd called her. He reached out. The first step was his to take, and now that he'd done it, there was a mad, wild sort of 'damn the torpedoes' feeling stirring up in her chest. Darcy couldn't bring herself to even guess what might happen next, but, holy crap, it looked like they were in it together.