Chapter Text
It was a slow morning at the research lab in the Avengers’ upstate compound— the room so quiet that the only ambient noise was the occasional gentle whoosh of the HVAC fan coming on, working to keep the lab’s temperature bumped up to a balmy 74 degrees Fahrenheit. The compound as a whole had a more budget-friendly default wintertime setting of 68— which was just fine if you were a muscly superhero; not so much if you were a petite ectomorph like Jane, with a BMI that was borderline 'you need to eat more'.
For Darcy, who had more curves to speak of than Jane, the extra four degrees were overkill: tended to make her sleepy, especially if she hadn’t gotten a full seven-to-eight-hours of rest the night before. Today, she was operating on slightly more than six, and the two cups of coffee she’d chugged were doing little to keep her animated… and there wasn’t much work to keep her awake, either. She’d finished updating all the databases by eleven, and was now slumped at her desk, scrolling Tumblr in silence, her eyelids getting heavy. Every now and then she could hear the quiet scratch of Jane’s pencil, or the brush of an eraser, as her boss worked on handwritten notes for another project— making good use of her time while she waited for some results that weren’t due in until later that afternoon.
At 11:45, Darcy was in the middle of a cute short-format video featuring chickens— was watching it on mute— when Jane put down her pencil and closed her notebook. “Lunch?" she said, looking over at her assistant. Darcy, half-asleep and in no hurry to get up, simply yawned in reply.
"What are you reading?"
"Nothing,” said Darcy. "Animal videos.”
The chickens were waddle-sprinting clear across a field, having recognized the person behind the camera as a visitor who always arrived bearing treats. Darcy hadn’t realized that chickens could move that fast; it made her laugh.
"This isn’t another one of those stunned goat compilations, is it?" said Jane, as she stood and tidied up her desk. "Those make me feel kinda bad."
"No, no," said Darcy, as she replayed the video for herself, enjoying it even more the second time. "Chickens. You wanna see?”
"Send me a link," said Jane, and Darcy sighed… because in Jane-speak, that was like saying 'maybe I’ll look at it in a hundred years if I have nothing better to do.'
She didn’t bother with the link; just closed the app and pushed her chair back; slipped her phone into her pocket and followed Jane to the cafeteria.
Darcy was back on her phone in no time, scrolling and tapping her way through lunch; was forking up mouthfuls of Greek salad without looking away from her screen. Jane was quiet too: lost in her own thoughts, as she swirled her tomato bisque with a spoon. Both women were enough in their own worlds that when Jane finally said something, she had to repeat herself to get her friend’s attention.
"You talking to me?" said Darcy, without looking away from the phone.
"Who else would I be talking to?"
"I dunno," she said. "What’d you say?"
"I was just thinking…"
She drifted off after that, so Darcy went back to her scroll, accustomed to Jane sometimes having long delays between thoughts, and their evolution into speech. When she finally continued, Darcy took a few seconds to finish reading the post she was on, and then put the phone down.
"What?"
"The weekend of the 20th," said Jane, apparently repeating herself again. "Are you free?"
"Is that…"
"Weekend after next."
"Hang on, let me check."
She picked up the phone again; pulled up her calendar and scrolled down to the end of the month. Noted the little blue dot on the Friday in question and tsked, mentally; she’d forgotten to update it. She tapped on the day to edit it, as long as she was there. "I was supposed to have a date,” she said, as she deleted the entry. "But that’s off now."
"Oh, cool," said Jane.
"No, very uncool," said Darcy. "Guy didn’t even suggest rescheduling. Maybe he checked out my social media; got scared off by all the weirdness."
"Sorry," said Jane. "I just meant…"
"Yeah, I know. It’s okay. I wasn’t even that into him."
"So why’d you make the date?"
"Duh," she said. "I need to get laid. It's been way too long."
“What about Ryan?"
Darcy gave her a look that said, 'seriously?' "That was like… eight months ago."
"No," said Jane, in disbelief. "Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"Wow. Doesn’t seem like that long ago."
"Easy for you to say." Darcy was on the verge of leaning into her jealousy of Jane's sex life— she and Thor were in a really good place, lately— but she didn't want to be a jerk about it. Just because her own love life was deader than the frozen-dry valleys of Antarctica... "Anyway, what’s up? Why’d you want to know?"
"Oh. Um…" Oddly, now that Jane had her friend’s full attention, she was a little cagey.
"What?" said Darcy. "Spit it out."
"It’s just that… there’s this weekend team-building thing I heard about, and it sounded kind of… interesting."
"Yeah, right," said Darcy, laughing a little as she stabbed some more olives with her fork. She looked up at Jane expectantly, waiting for the rest of the joke… and was met by a completely straight-faced expression. "Wait, you’re actually serious?"
Jane just shrugged.
"You’re kidding," said Darcy. "You? Team-building?"
"What," said Jane, a bit ruffled now. "Why is that so weird?"
"And you want me to go with you?"
"Well, yeah."
"What about Date Night? Or is Thor going too? Because I do not want to be the third wheel again."
"No, he’s got something. And he wouldn’t be interested in this, anyway."
"So… what is it, exactly? One of those wall-climbing things, where you have to trust your workplace nemesis not to let you fall to your death?"
"No, it’s more of an outdoorsy thing."
"Outdoors? At this time of year?" Darcy speared a cucumber slice but held off on eating it, as she considered the proposal. "Where’s it happening? I mean, if it’s like… in the Bahamas or something, I could probably be persuaded to—"
"No, it’s upstate. I mean… further upstate."
"Isn’t it supposed to be extra cold for the next few weeks? Like some kind of Arctic blast?"
Jane didn’t have an answer to that, so Darcy picked up her phone again and pulled up a weather app. "Yeah, see?" she said, as she turned the phone around so Jane could see the screen. "Cold and snowy."
"Those things change all the time," said Jane, barely glancing at it. "Come on; it’ll be fun."
Darcy just looked up at her skeptically, over the rims of her glasses, as she went back to her salad; was mining the dregs for any remaining chunks of feta.
"Okay; maybe not your typical definition of fun," said Jane, watching her. "But at least it’s something different, right?" When Darcy failed to comment, she came at it from another angle, still trying to sell it: "It’s all free, if you do the basic package… and I’m pretty sure that anyone who participates can file for a bonus."
"You should’ve led with that," said Darcy, showing real interest for the first time. "How big of a bonus?"
"I don’t remember. I could find out…"
"When would we leave? Would we need to get a car?"
"No, no… there’s gonna be transportation, both ways. Leave that Friday morning; get back late Sunday night."
"So… the whole weekend blown."
"I guess, but… no real work on Friday, right?"
Darcy put down her fork again and sighed. "I dunno… you know how much I hate being cold."
"I’ll give you Monday off too."
"Really?"
"Come on," said Jane. "You can’t tell me you wouldn’t love to actually get out of this place for a few days."
The woman had a point.
"Oh, what the hell," said Darcy. "I’m in."
"Really?" said Jane, almost squeaking in her delight. "Okay; I’m gonna go sign us up right now, before all the spots get taken." She stood up, gathering her garbage and picking up her tray. "I’ll forward the packing list to you, okay? So you know what to bring."
"Yeah, whatever," said Darcy. She was already holding her phone again, thumbing on the Tumblr icon, to pick up where she’d left off.
"Excellent," said Jane, and then she was off, leaving her friend to the quiet companionship of an infinite scroll.
A week-and-a-half later, Darcy was standing just outside the main entrance to the compound, shoulders tense; was bracing herself against the occasional gusty breeze, which cut into the exposed skin on her face like an icy knife. She’d dressed for the temperature— had on a puffer coat, a beanie, some thick, hand-knit mittens and a matching scarf— but had failed to factor in the windchill. At least her feet were warm; she’d managed to scrounge up some hiking boots from her New Mexico days. She wasn’t sure how well they’d do with snow, but they were better than sneakers.
A medium-sized group— maybe a couple dozen people— had gathered there by the entrance, with daypacks and duffel bags. They were waiting for the shuttles that would take them out to the remote lot, where they would switch to a chartered bus. She hadn’t spotted anyone she knew yet— there were people there from a bunch of different departments— and everyone had been pretty antisocial so far, most of them just killing time on their phones. The information Jane had forwarded to her had encouraged participants to leave their electronics at home, but yeah: like that was gonna happen…
A lot of people had those special gloves with touchscreen-friendly fingertips, and she was immediately envious. As nice as her hand-knit mittens were, there was no way to tap and swipe with those on. For her, it was a choice between having something to do, or freezing her fingers off. So far, staying warm had won, but as time ticked on and there was still no sign of Jane, she pulled one of her mittens off with her teeth, slid her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, and clicked on her messaging app. She kept it short:
Where are you?
She waited, staring at the screen, hoping for an immediate response. When a minute went by with nothing, she put the mitten back on, but kept the phone out. She could see a couple of airport-parking-style shuttle vans pulling up to the security kiosk, in the distance. Almost time to go.
As the shuttles slowly approached, the people around her began to stow their phones and gather up their bags, and her anxiety increased tenfold. She pulled off the mitten again, to send another text: The shuttles are here. I really hope you’re on your way down here…
The vans pulled over to the curb, parked, and the drivers opened their doors, ready to accept passengers. A friendly-looking thirty-something white guy with a green baseball cap and a shearling-lined brown-canvas coat stepped out of one of them, holding a clipboard. He was fit, unnaturally cheerful, and, unlike Darcy, seemed oblivious to the cold.
"Hey, folks," he said, greeting the gathered crowd. "Am I right in assumin’ you guys are all here for the TeamTraxx Adventure Weekend?"
There were a bunch of nods and some sounds of affirmation.
"Great," he said. "I’m Dan Marks, and I’ll be lead coordinator for your experience. Why don’t y’all gather 'round, and I’ll check you in, get your bags stowed, and then we’ll get you on your way. If anyone has any questions or concerns—"
Darcy immediately raised her hand.
"Yes?" said Dan, pointing to acknowledge her, while some of the others turned to look.
"My friend isn’t here yet," she said. "Will there be another shuttle, or is this it?"
"No worries, ma’am," he said. "Both of the shuttles will do one more circuit after they deliver you guys; should be plenty of time to catch any stragglers."
"Okay," she said.
“Anyone else? No? Okay then; let’s get you guys checked in.”
Darcy was already on her phone again— this time actually calling Jane, not caring if she was interrupting some last-minute nookie; turned her back to the group as Dan began calling out names.
"Where the fuck are you?" she hissed, as soon as the voicemail picked up; kept her back turned as she paced a few steps away. "They’re checking people in, boarding the shuttles. Call me back. Or better yet, just get your ass down here. I’m not doing this without you."
She clicked off, put her mitten back on and watched as the group began to dwindle in size, the participants boarding the vans one-by-one, as their names were called and checked off.
"Darcy Lewis?"
"Here," she said, grabbing her stuff and stepping up.
"You all set to go?"
"I guess so," she said, failing to sound enthusiastic.
"Great," said Dan brightly. "Go ahead and get on; you can stow your gear up front."
"Maybe I should wait for my friend, though," she said, stalling.
"Who's your friend?"
"Foster. Doctor Jane Foster."
"Foster," he repeated, as he flipped through the pages on his clipboard. "Yeah, here she is. You try calling her?"
"Yeah. She's not picking up."
Dan flipped the pages back down and gave her a friendly look. "Tell you what. Why don't you go ahead and get on, find a spot. I'm sure she'll turn up; probably just running a little late."
"I don't know..."
"You can always change your mind, if she’s still a no-show when we board the bus.”
Darcy looked back one more time at the gleaming wall of glass doors on the face of the compound’s entrance; all was silent and still. “Yeah, all right.”
There was already a big pile of backpacks and duffels on the luggage racks up front; she added her bags to the pile and then looked warily to the banks of seats on either side of the aisle behind it. The van was already half full, but quiet, other than the hum of the idling engine; most of those seated were fixated on their phones, involved in their own emails or texts. One lady was already playing Candy Crush.
There were still a couple of spots with three empty seats in a row, so she picked one of those, sliding into the middle seat. She pulled off her mittens and rested her phone in her lap, face up, still hoping for some word from Jane.
At least she was out of the wind.
She was still holding out hope— willing Jane to appear— as the shuttle continued to fill up… and then her hope was crushed, when Dan himself got on board and said something to the driver, who pulled the handle to shut the doors.
"All right, folks, I think we’re all set to—"
He was interrupted when the driver reached for the handle again, to reopen the doors— someone had made it in the nick of time— and Darcy was relieved, knowing it had to be Jane…
And then blinked, completely dumbfounded, when, instead of her waif of a boss, a sturdy, nearly six-foot-tall man with shoulder-length dark brown hair stepped on board and tossed his bags onto the pile. The guy was dressed like some kind of weekend commando: dark tac pants, an all-terrain, rugged-looking black jacket with lots of zippers and snaps, and well-worn heavy black boots. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite place it… until he turned to make his way down the aisle to an open seat, and she got a better look at his face. She couldn’t believe it at first… but then she saw the metal hand, confirming it.
What the fuck.
What was the Winter Soldier doing here?
And where the hell was Jane?