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Chapter Text

Darcy Lewis worked for SHIELD. Darcy Lewis mainly worked for Jane Foster, who worked for SHIELD. Usually it wasn't all that exciting, except when it really, really was.

Tonight it wasn't. Tonight there was a dinner, and people were giving Jane lots of money to do science things. Darcy didn't follow all of it, but she was rocking the buffet shrimp platter.

A man reached out to grab the last shrimp.

Darcy said, absently, "I have done terrible things to men for a lot less, dude," and grabbed it as he was distracted. It was delicious.

He laughed softly, and she looked up into blue eyes in a handsome face.

"This is not the context I was expecting for that, and I really can't complain," he said.

Darcy blinked at him.

"Oh," she said.

"Bruce Wayne," he said, offering her a hand. She shook it numbly.

"Darcy Lewis. I'm here with Dr. Foster."

"I met her earlier," he said.

"Yeah," Darcy said numbly. "So. You're rich. And you live in Gotham."

His eyebrows went up slightly.

"You date supermodels," she added helpfully. "And Gotham is horrible."

"You have a SHIELD security clearance, right?"

"Level 3."

"Good."

"Why is that good?"

"Wayne Enterprises has a number of classified projects. It's nice to know you can be good with secrets."

"I am great with secrets," she said. "Why, just the other day I found out-" she broke off, grinning, and he snorted, still smiling, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey, I didn't kill your dog, dude."

"...no." The fakey smile faded. That was good, it was creeping her out.

"For example, I'm about to go off with Jane and keep this whole thing a secret, okay? It doesn't have to be a Thing."

"Well, of course not," he said lightly, "I never take anything seriously."

"Oh my god. Not like - stop that."

He did the eyebrow thing again.

"I just meant, I need some time to think about it. You're older than me, you're a millionaire, you're in the news all over the place, I really don't know how anyone lives in Gotham-"

"So that's a no on the soulmate thing," he concluded.

"No, it's a take it easy, it'll work itself out on the soulmate thing." She grinned. "I will accept apology shrimp for taking the last shrimp, too."

"You took the last shrimp."

"Did I? I guess I did. But SHIELD pay is crap, so I think you should spring for the shrimp."

"Good night, Miss Lewis. I'll see what I can do about not making this... a Thing."

For someone who claimed not to take anything seriously, he seemed strangely unfamiliar with the art of not making everything a Thing.

"What were you talking to him about?" asked Black Widow, their resident security tonight.

Darcy reviewed what she knew about Bruce Wayne, and decided to answer honestly.

"I threatened to tase him, we flirted, and I told him Gotham was awful."

"Huh," said the redhead.

"You know him?"

"That's classified."

"Yeah, okay," Darcy said, and went to find Jane.

Later, Darcy would feel like she should have known her life didn't just hand her hot billionaires without there being an explosion-and-possible-death catch.

Chapter Text

Being Bruce Wayne's soulmate was a lot like being single, Darcy found. She followed him and Wayne Tech on Facebook and Twitter, and watched him take skinny blondes to charity galas and cut ribbons for things. She continued doing a little FWB with Jane's new intern. It was all cool, and totally not a thing.

What was a thing was that the plane she'd been in had been shot down in the middle of snowy nowhere, and she was seriously not sure if her fingers should be turning that color.

It would be pretty nice to lie down in this nice soft snow for a while. She was so tired. Her head hurt, her fingers had stopped hurting a while ago, and the distant lights of the town in the valley below were hidden by the trees. She'd been walking for how long?

She didn't think anyone else in the plane had made it. She'd checked, before heading down into the valley. Her stomach churned, and she swallowed hard. She didn't want to throw up on top of the rest of her day sucking.

Maybe she should just sit down.

She'd had a sort of vague sense of Bruce-ness in her head for a while now, vague and fond-of-her and not much else. Soulmate empathy had to be nurtured, but it was pretty common. She didn't want to bother him, but... all the textbooks did say dying made the bond stronger.

She sat down in the snow and put her back against a pine tree. It stuck to her hair, which sucked. Lots of things were sucking today.

Hey, soulmate. Sorry I didn't hit you up for those shrimp, she said in his general direction. Sorry if I freeze to death, that's a sucky thing to do to someone in their first month of sharing a soul.

Freeze to death? His mental voice was nothing like his spoken words, stripped of tone and humor. She had an impression of movement, attention. He was doing two things at once.

Oh, you know, she thought, and then lost her train of thought. Hey, could you tell Jane I'm sorry, too? I'm not going to be able to help her out with the conference.

Where are you? Sharp concern.

Somewhere between New York and California? It's snowing.

Show me. Can you open your mind?

Not really good at telepathy, dude. And I'm tired.

He kept talking to her, but it got vague, because she couldn't concentrate. Then something - else - happened.

She didn't know how it felt to Bruce, but for her, it was like a curtain rolling back, and everything was - sharper.

She staggered to her feet. One foot in front of the other. Heading downhill, down the valley.

She wasn't going to die here.

She was going to go home.

She was going to see Jane again.

She was going to do science she barely understood with Jane again.

She was going to eat shrimp with her new soulmate.

Flowing down the soulmate bond came a deep, unending supply of stubbornness and, more importantly, the knowledge and skill of a lifetime of using that stubborn will to overpower physical limitations. It met matching stubborn bedrock in Darcy, and took root like a dark flower.

If her motivations were more about not missing the ending of that season of her new favorite TV show, well, they were equally fueled by implacable purpose.

She fell into the wall of a building. She staggered upright again, blinking snow-crusted eyelashes, and used a hand on the wall to guide herself around to the door. She banged on it a couple times.

She fell into the arms of the woman who opened the door, and fainted.

#

Darcy woke up in a hospital room, alone. There was a huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. They were tropical daylilies. Her favorite.

It occurred to her, staring at her bright red lilies, that Bruce was a total stalker. Not just that, he was better at stalking than she was. She didn't know what his favorite flower was.

It was kinda hot.

A feeling of distant amusement and pleasure brought her attention to the soulbond in the back of her head, which was much more soul and bond-y than it had been before. She still didn't get much from it, but when she poked at it in her head she got a feeling-memory of need-for-privacy that made her back off really fast.

So. Thanks for the flowers.

You're welcome.

And for, you know, whatever you did there.

She didn't get a response for that one. Darcy thought very hard for a few minutes, was interrupted by a nice doctor who had a discussion with her about Jane Does and frostbite, and then thought some more.

Can I have your number? She asked finally. We should text.

I have yours. Once you get your phone back, that is.

The stalking is kinda hot. Is that a rich dude thing?

Not so far as I know. You should rest.

He had a point. After she called Jane, anyway.

Chapter Text

It occurs to Darcy, looking at her soulmate over the elaborately set table with crystal and a seafood tower, a legit seafood tower, on a boat in the middle of the ocean watching the sun set, that neither of them are having a good time.

Which really sucks.

Here's how it happens. He texts her a time and location, down by the New York City docks. There is a yacht. The yacht has gold edges on everything, is named Pearl, and has staff. Well, one staff. A butler, an old English dude who's scrupulously polite but Darcy gets the strong impression he's deadly curious about who she is, why she's not a supermodel, and what she's doing here.

He doesn't ask.

Darcy dressed up, by which she means she called Natasha up and begged her for advice on how not to embarrass herself in high society. It wasn't like they were besties, but there had been that thing with Thor and the dragon and she'd needed to call so Jane had her hands free to do science, and, well. Darcy was desperate, here.

This was how Darcy had ended up in a red dress and dangly diamond earrings and heels and feeling like the only real thing about her was her lipstick, which was killer. (That was the name of the brand. It was a good brand.)

Darcy's explanation of 'I'm going to a thing, help,' had passed muster with the spy, or maybe the Black Widow didn't think Darcy's secrets were secret enough to be interesting. Either way, Darcy didn't think she'd be putting this on Instagram.

The seafood tower had five tiers, like one of those little-tiny-cakes-and-sandwiches things you saw in fancy British TV shows. There were oysters, lobster, and yes, shrimp. It was delicious.

Bruce had been letting her ramble for the past hour about herself and Thor and Jane and Jane freaking out about her plane crashing and Darcy was comfortable being open about herself, but damn, she wasn't that self absorbed.

"So," she said, swirling a shrimp in cocktail sauce and popping it into her mouth, "You hate that we got one of the 15% of bonds with an empathic connection."

"17%," he corrected absently.

"Right. So. You hate it."

"You don't?"

He'd been getting her off track all evening asking her questions.

"Look, man, I'm not a true believer in the invisible hand of the free market and I'm not a true believer in the invisible hand of fate. So, we're soul bonded or we're one soul split in two or something. It doesn't mean anything except what we say it means."

Bruce, as far as she could tell, didn't have any tells. The longer the evening wore on, as the sun slipped stunningly behind the clouds in a orange ball of majesty, the less she could get from the soulbond, too. Right now all it said was that he was - interested, and multitasking.

"I think it means we're connected," he said. "I don't think that's a good thing for you. I'm not a safe person to know."

"Dude," she said, taking a sip of sparkly champaign for strength and also because it was really freaking good champaign, "I don't know very many safe people. Except my mom. And my dad. And my uncle Larry."

"This would be the Uncle Larry who set your kitchen on fire last Thanksgiving?" he asked, eyeing her over his oyster.

"That's the one. What did you do, read my entire facebook history going back to last year?"

Silence.

She didn't fill it.

"Four years," he admitted. "I stopped once I got to Thor's first appearance."

"That is the most popular thing I've ever done on Facebook," Darcy says with a sigh. "People keep asking me when I'll take a job working for the Avengers as their social secretary or something."

"And will you?"

"Hell no. I like working for Jane. Is the safety thing why you didn't call me for a month and a half?"

"Well," he said, "It's a concern."

"Right." She sighed, looking around at the boat. "So, what do you actually do for fun?"

She raised her hands at his look.

"I'm not prying, or I'm not trying to pry, but this isn't your idea of a good time. What do you like?"

"People would tell you that I'm not known for my sense of fun," he said dryly. "That said, I would say my free time is taken up by overseeing my family's charitable enterprises."

"Okay. Tell me about that."

He unfroze a little, talking about fundraisers and Gotham's poor and schools and technological innovations in urban planning. Not enough that she got a good read on him, but that was okay. It was interesting, and she could ask questions, and it stopped feeling like an interrogation either way.

They kissed once, once full dark had fallen and he was handing her across to dry land, back in New York. He was warm and solid and surprisingly muscular, and he kissed like he knew exactly what he was doing.

He seemed more comfortable in the dark, when she couldn't see his face, the comfort vibrating down the bond between them like the feel of velvet under her fingertips.

"So, bye," she said. "We should do this again. Without the boat, or the shrimp, and maybe without me wondering if your butler wants to interrogate me if I'm good enough for you. So, nothing like this again. But the talking, that was good."

He snorted, not quite a laugh, just a puff of breath.

"I'll come up with something," he told her. "Good night, Darcy."

"Night, B."

She let go of his hand, tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, and headed back to the lights and the adventure that was her life.

Chapter Text

Hey, soulmate, Darcy thought tiredly. Got a minute?

I can multitask, he thought. Work boring again?

Promise not to freak out?

Darcy hugged her knees to her chest, chains rattling against each other. She hated chains.

Tell me what's happening, Darcy. Now.

Promise not to freak out.

Tell. Me.

Darcy pushed back encroaching fear and turned it into anger. It was really easy, with the soulbond open and his anger warming her.

No, see, now you're freaking out and then I'll freak out and then I won't be any help when Thor smashes through the ceiling and rescues me and then I really will lose my job because me not freaking out during this stuff is, like, the entirety of why Jane hasn't freaked out about putting me in danger yet, so calm your horses.

Silence. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats, if she'd scared him off she was going to be so pissed with herself if she survived-

Tell me three things. Does Thor know where you are, who took you, and do you know where you are.

Darcy swallowed and leaned her head back against the cave wall.

Thor will have noticed Jane missing by now. It's some dude with an ax, but he was talking to someone earlier. I didn't see her. I'm in a parallel dimension with Jane and you promised not to freak out. Or you didn't, but please don't, okay?

I'm surprised you aren't freaking out. A parallel dimension, for instance, would probably at least make me consider freaking out.

This is my life now. Dude didn't take my taser, so maybe I'll get a hit in before Thor rescues everyone. And, hey, on the not freaking out side of the scale, Thor really has a good scoreboard for saving everyone. It'll be fine.

This is an example of you not knowing safe people.

Yeah.

There's a phrase for this, I think. This is not good for my blood pressure.

Sorry. I keep bugging you when I'm busy being in peril.

Maybe I'll return the favor someday if I'm ever in peril, and the thought was dry as dust.

Goodie. Do that. She hesitated, studying Jane's unconscious form across the cave from her. No, that was still really freaky. I can stop bugging you, if you want.

My reading suggests that soulbond contact when you are in real fear for you life is semi-involuntary. Don't worry, I'm getting some work done at the same time.

Oh?

I'm networking.

That's making friends, isn't it? You make it sound like pulling teeth.

Pulling teeth would be simpler.

...cool if I tell you the full story of Uncle Larry and the Thanksgiving Fire?

Yes.

So she did, until Thor came crashing through the wall hammer-first with a tale about his father and a lady who wanted to go on a date with him and Darcy took it in and filed it under 'less important than going and getting drunk' and followed him home, back to Earth, where she sat with Jane until Jane woke up and then dragged herself to her own bed to sleep.

In the morning, she found a bottle of her favorite alcohol on her doorstep, and sent Bruce an apology text for freaking him out and then yelling at him.

The reply 'It's fine.' was not exactly reassuring about his emotional state, but whatever. It was, apparently, fine.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day doing science with Jane, and they'd just finished another whirlwind around-the-globe tour of weird, and all in all Darcy was done. She was so done that she accepted the mug and took a drink before noticing who it was handing it to her.

It was hot cocoa, and it was delicious, and the Black Widow had just given her hot cocoa.

This did not compute. Darcy sipped it defensively, because it was really good, and had a bit of a kick. Alcoholic hot cocoa was new and wonderful and Darcy wondered if Natasha Romanov was in need of a spunky girl sidekick. (What? Darcy was self-aware.)

"You don't post about Bruce Wayne on Facebook," Natasha said, sipping her own cocoa.

"No?"

"He sent you flowers, when you were in the hospital."

Darcy sipped at her cocoa and tried to figure out where this was going.

"We text," she went with, because it was true, and she didn't think anyone got away with lying to the Black Widow.

"You... text."

She almost thought Natasha would look taken aback, if Natasha had that facial expression.

"He's funny?" she offered.

"SHIELD got a helpful memo about security procedures this week. Personnel monitoring and retrieval. From Gotham."

"Oh," Darcy says, relaxing, "Okay. He's probably just trying to get more business for Wayne Tech, he said he was working on networking this week."

"You talk about his work, then?"

"Some. It's...." Darcy shrugs. "It's not a thing. We're friends, maybe? He needs to lighten up."

Some part of her observed distantly that she'd be a lot more nervous about lying, usually, but it felt normal, so it couldn't be that big a deal.

"Tell him SHIELD security will welcome his assistance, should he choose to provide it," Natasha said, unfolding from the couch in one elegant motion and wandering off towards the elevator.

Well, Darcy thought, poking the place in her head where the soulbond lay quiet, speaking of concentration and a distant sort of contentment. That was weird.

Chapter Text

Darcy.

Darcy paused in the middle of throwing things at the alien space portal (she loved her job). That was a new tone of voice.

Yeah, B.?

Would you do me a favor, please.

When B. got distracted, he forgot how to talk like a real person. It was a cute thing about him. But as she stretched into the part of herself that was the soulbond and found it open and bleeding, like part of herself was draining through it, and she caught a visual flicker - darkness and blood dripping on concrete - she didn't find it so cute.

Darcy swallowed, letting that wavering visual overlay her vision. A dark room, the outline of light from a doorway, a pool of blood on the floor. She wasn't getting any sounds, but there wasn't anyone else in his field of vision.

What's the favor, she asked, forgetting to sound casual.

Call Alfred. 312 555 6545. Tell him I could use a ride home from 65 Lakeview.

Darcy had her phone out. Darcy was not freaking out. Darcy was dialing the number. Darcy was not freaking out. Darcy wondered if she should call Thor instead. The phone was ringing.

"Hello, Wayne residence," said butler-dude.

"Hey, butler dude!" Darcy said, pleased. "It's Darcy, we met on a boat? You gave me the stinkeye?"

"Yes, miss? I'm afraid Master Wayne is out at the moment, but I can-"

"He left a message," she interrupted. "For you. He's at 65 Lakeview, he wants a ride home. Uh. But you should maybe plan on that being a hospital, I think? He seemed. Seems."

She didn't have words.

"Miss, if this is a prank call-"

He thinks it's a prank call. Something I can tell him that will make him believe me?

My least favorite bird is the penguin. My favorite is the robin. Tell him to take the black car.

"He says," she swallowed, "His least favorite bird is the penguin, his favorite is the robin, and you should take the black car. Look, would you hurry?"

"Yes, miss. Right away. Have a good night, miss."

He hung up. Darcy blinked the blackness from her vision and stared at the portal in front of her, took off her shoe, and threw it as hard as she could into the wavering gap in reality.

Somewhere nearby, Jane yelled, "Darcy, are you trying to kill me with footwear?"

"Yes," Darcy yelled back, glad of the distraction. "I want a raise!"

"Do I pay you now?"

"Don't make me throw my other shoe!"

It felt good. Normal.

I told him, she told Bruce. He's on his way.

Good.

No fair you taking a turn being in peril, she added, daringly. Let me know you when you're okay, that place looks rank.

His walls slammed up, cutting off the visual and the pain and the simmering frustration.

"Darcy, try the tennis ball again," Jane called.

Darcy tried the tennis ball again, using her other hand to text Thor.

'Big guy, you on this plane of existence?'

No reply. Great. No reply from anyone, until after she and Jane had gotten done playing with science and had dinner (Chinese!) and Darcy was settled in with Netflix to unwind for a bit. (Unwinding didn't happen, but a Parks & Rec marathon did.) 

She answered her cell phone on the first ring.

"Hi?"

"This is Alfred Pennyworth, Miss Darcy. I thought you'd want to know that Master Bruce is doing just fine, he just had an exciting night on the town. He's sleeping now."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Oh. Okay. Well, thanks. Um. Sorry about the mysterious phone calls."

"Quite all right, quite all right."

"He's going to be okay?"

"He's going to be just fine, miss, and I'm sure he will appreciate your concern."

"Don't tell him!" The phone was silent at her. It didn't help. "I mean, um, I get the impression he's. Pretty private. I don't think he'd like me worrying."

"As someone with many years worrying about Master Bruce, miss, I must say I cannot disagree with you there."

She laughed, soft and breathy.

"I think I've scared him a couple times over the past couple months myself. It's... um. I'm glad he's got someone there to worry about him."

"Master Dick and I do our best, miss."

She'd read about Bruce's ward on Wikipedia, but Bruce didn't mention him. Bruce didn't mention lots of things.

"Thanks for calling, Alfred."

"You're welcome, miss. Good night."

"Good night."

Darcy decided not to mention what time it was in London right now. Thank god for international calling plans.

Darcy was pretty sure she should flip out, but at the same time, she mostly just wanted to crash. She'd flip out later. At Thor. Thor was pretty smart, for someone whose idea of a night out involved quaffing.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne was giving her the silent treatment. It was a lot like being soulmate-less, except it sucked a lot more. The place in her head where he hung out was cold and dark, off to the left where it usually felt there was a velvet curtain and a guy on the other side hunched over a computer muttering to himself. He hadn't texted her in three weeks. Her twitter alert for his name said he was hooking up with an entire cheerleading team.

Thor was still out of town, by which Darcy meant off doing prince things on another planet. Jane was mooning. That would normally be okay.

Except mooning and drinks had turned into this.

"You just don't understand, Darc," Jane said morosely into her fruity girly drink. "He's my soulmate. It's just hard."

"Like I don't have a soulmate," Darcy muttered, downing her she'd-forgetten-how-many-drinks-this-was drink and pouring herself another. "Everyone has a soulmate."

"But I've met mine. And I miss him. That's why I should get to pick what TV show we watch, Darcy," Jane said with the deep seriousness of the drunk who knows how to make people do whatever she wants.

"Hah. I haven't even boned mine, I totally get dibs on picking drunk TV. We should watch Mythbusters."

"You met your soulmate and you didn't tell me? Is it Ian? Tell me it's Ian, that's adorable."

Darcy winced. Right, that problem with drunkenness and filters. Filters were good, Darcy.

"It's not Ian."

"...Darcy. Are you leading Ian on."

"No. Yes. Maybe? It's all very confusing and I want advice from on high and your boyfriend's job sucks, Jane, where is he when I need divine advice. I should get some perks from knowing an actualfacts god."

Jane sighed.

"Maybe this time when he visits we'll be in the same hemisphere and not infected by evil spirits or chained up in a cave."

"You know, maybe we should kidnap ourselves. It seems like the only way to get any attention around here."

"...right. No more booze for Jane and Darcy, that's making way too much sense."

Darcy sighed.

"Can we watch Mythbusters anyway?"

"Are you going to tell me about Mr. Soulmate?"

"No."

"Then we're watching the Viking documentary."

Darcy could not actually fault this logic.

Chapter Text

Darcy settled down on her computer, clicking from window to window, and hit a final key. The file was uploaded. Her USB drive plan had gone without a hitch. She felt like a superspy, and so what if the security at Wayne headquarters wasn't as terrifying as, say, SHIELD. She'd still hacked something more complicated than the DMV. There had been steps involved. Planning. Planned steps. She'd read articles about how people hacked Iran's nuclear programs and everything. (Turns out, everyone loves free things, including free USB drives left in the employee parking lot.)

Darcy took a deep swig of coffee and tapped her enter key.

In the building two blocks away, every speaker on the network began playing Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes. Darcy hummed along.

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete

Darcy had never said it was a very good plan, but she hadn't been able to get ahold of Thor or Bruce, and she'd always wanted to stand outside someone's window with a boombox.

Metaphorically speaking.

It was boardmeeting day at Wayne Tech. It seemed like the right timing. Her twitter alert for Wayne lit up as people began talking about it. The reactions were hilarious, and there was already a meme. People were sad when the song was shut down.

"I should have you arrested," he said quietly, sliding into the seat across from her. He was looking sharp - business suit, alive, not bleeding. He was smiling, but it wasn't friendly. The soulbond was cool and empty. Darcy took off her headphones and detached them from the computer.

"For my taste in music? I like this song."

Darcy tapped play on her laptop, and the song resumed.

love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn

He reached over and closed her laptop. It obediently went to sleep. Darcy raised her eyebrows at him.

"You realize you're being absurd?"

"Life's absurd, dude. That's why we need giant boomboxes."

He eyed her silently.

"You want something," he said, "Or you wouldn't have tried to hack a Fortune 500 company."

"Hey, that's succeeded in hacking."

"For two minutes."

"I wanted to see you," she said abruptly. "Got a problem with that?"

He gave her a look. She tried not to be quelled by the look.

"One day," he said, "I am going to show you my giant penny."

"...is that a metaphor?"

"No."

"Why do you have a giant penny?"

"That's a long story."

"So it's like a giant ball of twine, it just exists?"

"Basically. Are you going to stop trying to get my attention now?"

"If you respond to texts more than once a year, sure."

If she wanted more - well, if he was anything like her, and he was, she could tell he was, it was fundamental, she might as well question her own name - he would respond to pressure by running off to study astrophysics, despite having absolutely no previous experience or interest in astrophysics.

"Fine." He stood, tapping a finger against her laptop. "I thought you didn't like Gotham."

"I've heard things. Weird things. Crime rate statistic things. But some things are worth visiting Gotham for, you know?"

"...I assume that was a compliment."

"I certainly meant it as one, B."

"Why B.?" He asked abruptly. "Why not Bruce?"

Darcy leaned back in her chair and had a sip of her coffee, studying the mug contemplatively.

"Dunno. Seems right. You don't like it?"

When she looked up, he was gone. He was quiet, for a big dude.

She was a little sad they hadn't gotten around to the makeup sex, but she felt better.

Chapter Text

A short, sharp whistle woke her. Established habit when woken in unfamiliar circumstances brought Darcy sitting up in her cheap motel bed (kept girl she was not) and pulling out the taser she kept under the pillow.

A dark-caped shape lurked at the foot of her bed, visible in the yellow light filtering through the crappy shades.

"Batman?" she asked, foggy, because it was Batman who was the caped guy in these parts, wasn't it?

"Robin," a young, cool voice corrected. Darcy fumbled on her glasses, her second priority after her taser. Better not tase Robin, even if he was breaking and entering, he was a kid, wasn't he?

A weirdly flexible kid, perched on the foot of her bed, wrapped in a black cloak with cool eyes assessing her behind a black mask.

"Wow. Um. Hi?"

"What do you want with Bruce Wayne," he said, eyes narrow.

"Um." Darcy glanced at the bedside clock. 3:04 in the morning. Great. "It's private?"

"This is Gotham. He's under our protection."

"Hey, whoa. I'm not here to hurt him. I'm, um." What to say to a tiny black-caped figure in her motel room in the middle of the night. His stare was unimpressed. "It's adult stuff, okay, kid?"

"Bruce Wayne is an idiot. That doesn't mean some hacker with good-" he flushed, maybe, it was hard to tell in this light. "Answer the question," he said, expression hardening.

Robin was one of the good guys, right? And more importantly, not one of the good guys that would tell all her friends and family she had a soul mate and they should start planning a really embarrassing wedding.

"How old are you?"

"Twelve. Answer the question, or I'm dragging you into the police station to see what they think of hackers."

"He wouldn't press charges."

Would he?

A grin flashed, sharp and eager.

"Want to find out?"

Vigilantes were scary in a way Thor wasn't, Darcy found. If he'd been older, she'd have just tased him. But he was a kid. A scary kid.

"Have you gotten your soulmark yet?" she asked, finally.

"What does that have to do with-" all color drained from his face. "Aw, crap. I was never here. Okay? Okay. Really nice to meet you! Except I will be really surprised to meet you, if I ever meet you, because I was never here."

He bolted for the door. It clicked shut, and Darcy stared at it. Then she stared at the blinking light of her alarm clock. 3:11 AM.

Screw this. Darcy took off her glasses, stowed her trusty taser back under her pillow, and went back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Darcy eyed her cell phone with trepidation. Three bars.

"Darcy, are you done with your phone call?" Jane called from the front of their rented camper van.

"I am a coward," Darcy called back, hunching over her phone and pretending this was mature behavior.

"Darcy-"

"I know!"

Ugh.

Darcy flipped through her contacts until she found B, under B, for B. She tapped 'call' and crossed both fingers and both toes, in the hopes that he was in a meeting.

"Darcy Lewis," he said warmly into the phone, soulbond cool and shadowed in the corner of her mind, "You never call, you never write-"

"I texted you last night, asshole," she said agreeably. "Look, I have to tell you something."

"Mmmm?"

"I'm going to Asgard. So, uh, it might hurt. Apparently. Jane says it makes everything feel - weird - when Thor's that far away, and I thought I should. Warn you. Because she says she did research and it can cause bondfade and other symptoms of bond death, and. She said I wasn't allowed to make you worry."

"...can I convince you to go skiing with me instead of going to Asgard?"

"Sorry, dude. I mean, B. We're already a done deal, we just have to yell Heimdall into it, it's a whole thing, we haven't heard from Thor since he - uh - since a while ago."

"Since you were kidnapped," he said dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. By the way, thanks for bothering SHIELD about that? That was you, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I thought Thor spent a lot of time in Asgard?"

"Sometimes, it depends on which way the political winds are blowing, the problem is - do you care what the problem is?"

"Since it means you're leaving the planet, yeah, I guess I do."

"Aw, B. I didn't know you cared. So, Thor said he'd be back. He swore it, even, and he's the kind of guy who takes oaths super seriously, like Lord of the Rings honor and glory seriously. So we're worried, so we're going to go rescue him, because it's his turn. Hopefully we're wrong and it's all just endless parties and I'll get a great Norse hat."

"Endless parties? Sounds like my sort of place, can I come?"

"Oh. Um. No. Sorry, B. Just... no."

"Be careful, Darcy. It would...." His tone lost its jocular air. "Caring isn't the problem."

"I'll text you and let you know when I'm back," she said awkwardly, to that particularly ill-timed declaration of intent.

"Have fun," he said cheerfully, and hung up.

Darcy dragged herself forward to sit next to Jane.

"Do I suck at relationships?" she asked her friend.

"I don't think so. Bad talk?"

"Weird talk. Every time I think we're getting closer, we aren't. He says 'caring isn't the problem.'"

"Maybe he sucks at relationships," Jane observed practically.

"Maybe. So, are we bringing the spears or are we sticking to crossbows?"

"Crossbows. You can't hit a barn with a spear, Darcy."

"Guilty," Darcy agreed.

(Thor was in need of rescue, and science, and Darcy tased a giant lizard. It was a good time. The soul bond felt painful and itchy in her head, like holding a stretch long past the point of comfort. She was glad she'd warned Bruce.)

Chapter Text

They arrived back from Asgard in a flurry of wind and light and sound that left Darcy breathless and stumbling in the bright wintery New York sky. They were standing on a sidewalk half-covered in snow, and there was a man merrily selling Christmas trees down the block. Darcy blinked at this behind her glasses, soulbond open and welcoming in the back of her mind. She had, she felt, Bruce's full attention. It was a bit like being under a magnifying glass.

She sent him a burst of heady triumph (because she tased a not-quite-dragon) and focused on her reality.

"It's Christmas," she observed, checking her phone for, good god y'all, all the updates. All of them. "Well, two days before Christmas. Thor, what's up with that?"

She hadn't thought they were gone that long.

"Time sometimes moves strangely between worlds," he said happily. "But this is fabulous news! We can celebrate family and our victory together."

"I hate to break it to you, but I have a family to see at Christmas," Darcy said, watching him with his arm around Jane and grinning. "You love birds will have to celebrate with the team."

"Then we must celebrate now! A warrior's feast."

Darcy had to grin.

"Another one?"

"Can there ever be too many?"

"High five," Darcy commanded, and high fived her god. (So she might maybe be looking into worshiping pagan gods. So what? Thor seemed like a mighty god to her.) She tried to pretend he hadn't almost knocked her off her feet, and mostly succeeded.

Darcy's phone rang. She checked her caller ID. B.

"Yo, B," she said, ever so casual.

"Until I met you," he said, "I actually thought no one talked like that."

"Happy to disappoint. What can I do for ya? Want to come to my victory feast? I tased a dragon." There was a silence. Darcy filled it. "Not actually a dragon, you understand, just this huge vaguely dragon like thing that lives in the woods near Thor's place, they're actually apparently extradimensional horrors, but little ones that got lost. You have to avoid getting their goo on you and they're vulnerable to electricity, which is why taser, I would have left it to Thor but he was busy with the big mama lizard, uh, throgdrakor, whatever, that's not actually what it's called, I can't pronounce it."

Thor called out a helpful explanation in the background, which she ignored, and then she ignored him asking Jane who she was talking to and Jane's helpful explanation and Thor's happy exclamation.

"You still there, B?"

"Yes."

"Miss me?"

Silence.

"So, I think you should come for Christmas," she said abruptly. "By which I mean give me a lift for Christmas, if I try to buy a plane ticket today I'm going to drain my bank account dry. You have a jet, right?"

"I have multiple jets, Darcy," he said, dryly amused. "But you aren't going home for Christmas."

"Excuse you, I am going home for Christmas. There will be mistletoe and eggnog and awkward questions about when I'm getting married. It'll be great."

"Alfred can supply all three of those things in short order. I even have a tree."

Darcy pulled her phone away from her ear to stare at it, then put it back to her ear.

"Darcy?"

"You just invited me. For Christmas."

"...that is what people do."

"I didn't think it was what we did."

"You just invited me," he pointed out.

"I was mostly kidding! I am a kidder. You should know that about me."

"Oh, I've noticed," he said in an undertone. Darcy pretended not to hear him.

More loudly, he said, "I can't leave Gotham right now. I'll send a car for you to take you to the airport."

"Tomorrow?" she asked. "There's a victory feast tonight. We're having - what are we having, Thor?"

"Jane says the traditional feast of champions is steak. We shall have steak. I shall have Iron Man buy it."

"We are having steak and conning Tony Stark into paying for it," Darcy told her soulmate.

"It couldn't happen to a nicer man. Have a good evening, and a good flight tomorrow."

"Anyone ever tell you you're bossy?"

"I don't know. Has anyone ever implied to you that you're stubborn?"

"Night, B. See you tomorrow."

Darcy was smiling, and the soulbond was open and there, his amusement merging with her quiet happiness like holding hands, like moonlight.

Thor clapped her on the shoulder, and Darcy adjusted her glasses and grinned at him.

"Come! We must to the tower, where you can tell me of your soulmate whose name is a letter. Is that common in this realm?"

Chapter Text

The feast was good. Thor's acceptance of her, "I'll ask him if I can talk about it," was great. Thor understood things like that. The jet was sleek and empty, and there was a minibar.

Darcy had juice, because it was stupid o'clock in the morning, and her sleep cycle was bad enough without adding alcohol to the mix, despite the nerves that suggested it really would be a great idea to have something calming.

And then there was Alfred, in neat chauffeur cap and coat, to take her bag as she got off the plane.

"Do you do everything?" Darcy asked, holding onto her bag for dear life.

"I have served the Wayne family for a very long time, Miss. The car is this way."

"Right. Okay."

The car was long and black and sleek, and Darcy called shotgun and bounced into the seat next to Alfred. He gave her an enigmatic look (oh, that's where Bruce got it).

"So, can I ask you embarrassing questions about Bruce?"

"Well, miss, that depends entirely on whether you wish me to follow Master Wayne's instructions and ask you about your intentions and marital plans."

Darcy flapped her hands in hurried negation as the car pulled smoothly away from the curb.

"No! No, that's fine, I'm good. I'm fine, no marital plan discussion needed, I thought he was kidding."

"Master Wayne seldom 'kids.'"

"How is this guy the other half of my soul," Darcy said, slumping in her seat.

There was a silence as Alfred negotiated traffic.

"I don't know, miss, but I must say you look very similar when you sulk."

Darcy burst out laughing.

"You're awful," she said happily. "I like you. So, what am I in for, really?"

He didn't crack a smile, but he didn't glare at her, either. Win.

"Master Wayne has business to attend to today, but you'll meet Master Dick. I believe he is eager to meet you."

"Oh."

Okay. Darcy filed this under 'less intimidating than a giant space forest lizard.'

Probably.

Darcy occupied the rest of the drive quizzing Alfred about Bruce's musical tastes (boring) and Bruce's sound system (not boring at all), and making plans for downloading her Epic Christmas Soundtrack. These were the important things.

Darcy didn't dwell on details a lot, preferring to find patterns and let her hindbrain worry about visuals, she was more of an audio person anyway, but Wayne Manor was worth paying attention to. The gates were iron and rolled back smoothly as the car pulled in, the drive was long and smooth and cared for, the manor itself low and sprawling, with many floors and windows and nooks and crannies. Darcy studied the roof, with its little tower rooms and interesting curved bits.

"This must have been a great place to be a kid. The hide and seek games must be epic."

"I expect Master Dick would enjoy playing hide and seek with you, miss. However, I expect he will win."

"Home field advantage," she agreed, as the car pulled up in front of creamy marble steps and Alfred got up to open her door.

She let him. He'd given her the password to set the sound system on 'annoying,' he was a good guy.

A kid was hovering on the top step, in khakis and a collared shirt and sweater vest. He was shifting from foot to foot, hands in his pockets. Like Bruce, he had black hair and blue eyes, and she wondered abruptly if this was an 'illegitimate child' thing, not a 'weirdly philanthropic weirdo' thing.

"Hi," said Master Dick, which she mentally changed to Dick after a second.

"Hi," she replied. "You let Alfred dress you, don't you."

He looked down at his red sweater vest, and up at her with a flashing grin. "Yes."

"I don't know how long I'm in town, but I sense internet shopping in our future," she informed him. "Hi, I'm Darcy. I'm, uh."

Dick's grin grew wider, and he did not rescue her from her conversational pit.

"Miss Darcy is Master Bruce's guest for Christmas," said Alfred mercifully. "Why don't you show her to her room, Master Dick? She expressed an interest in exploring the old place."

And that was how Darcy and her suitcase followed the grinning pre-teen up the even taller grand marble staircase, studying the huge portraits on the wall and trying not to feel weird.

"Does he ever drop the master and miss thing?" she asked him, for lack of a better thing to do.

"Alfred? Not really. Kinda his thing."

"Huh."

"Bruce'll be around," Dick told her, opening the door to an absurdly large bedroom with a four poster bed. "Later. It's my job to entertain you until then."

"Thanks, I think," she said absently. "How do you feel about music?"

"What kind?"

"That, my dear, is the question," she said in her plumiest false-English accent.

Dick almost fell over laughing.

"I'll pay you to try that around Alfred," he managed, after he calmed down a little and Darcy's bag was parked at the foot of the (ridiculously large) bed.

"How much?" she said practically.

"Embarassing tips about Bruce?" he offered.

"Ohhhh. How many?"

He made a show of thinking, bouncing on his heels.

"Three."

"Ten."

"Three."

"Eight."

"Three."

"Five."

"Sold," he said happily.

Darcy grinned at him.

"So, where do we get lunch in this place?"

"Alfred will be cooking. C'mon, I'll show you the kitchen."

And that was how Darcy spent the afternoon in a warm kitchen with an old man and a young boy, soulmate grumpy and distracted and nervous in the back of her mind, eating BLTs and hearing tales of Bruce's human moments, which they described variously as 'rare, miss' and 'hilarious.'

Chapter Text

Darcy wasn't used to being in the same city as Bruce. The soulbond was so much clearer, here, and it woke her in the middle of the night, thrumming with the sound-smell-taste of anger, righteous and bloody, blood on her knuckles and curling in her belly. She blinked at the elegant curtains of her room, and staggered out of bed. She needed - something. Something to distract her from B's intense, cutting focus, not focused on her but so clear, so sharp, like glass. A tentative mental touch got nothing from him except the feeling of motion.

Darcy stuffed her feet into slippers and herself into a fluffy robe she'd found hanging in her private bathroom (because she had a private bathroom), and staggered down to the kitchen.

Where she found Alfred and Dick, distinctly still up and sitting in silence together at the kitchen table. Darcy slung herself into a chair next to Dick and banged her forehead on the table. It didn't help.

"Cocoa, miss?"

"Yeah. Don't you guys know that Santa doesn't come until you go to sleep?"

"I'm twelve, not five," said Dick, and she could hear him rolling his eyes.

"Hm," said Darcy, and let the silence lap at her for a while. There was tension in the room she couldn't bring herself to push at, and then a burst of pain from the bond that had her sitting up, wincing.

"What's wrong?" Dick asked sharply, abruptly focused on her.

Darcy shook her head, shook herself out of it.

"It's fine," she grumbled. "Cocoa?"

Alfred slid a mug into her hands, and he was looking at her, too, a crease between his eyebrows.

Darcy sorted through explanations, and wondered why she was bothering. These were people Bruce trusted, right? The soulbond didn't answer, unhelpful as ever, but the anger was curling in on itself like a satisfied cat, the thrill of success/survival lapping at her like waves on a beach. She took a long drink of cocoa, and then noticed they were still watching her.

"You guys are going to be waiting a long time if you expect me to be coherent at this time of night," she told them. "Bruce is the unreasonably awake and anger management issues at night one, I'm the other one."

Dick's grin was slow but there, breaking the unnatural solemnness and making something in her chest ease.

"You noticed those, huh?" Dick said cheerfully, as if nothing had ever made his eyes tight and his voice sharp and vaguely familiar.

"Little bit," she agreed. "Say, you guys can be straight with me, he's in Fight Club, isn't he? I've seen the movie."

Dick widened his eyes, putting on the best innocent expression she'd seen in her life, and said solemnly, "There's no such thing as Fight Club."

Darcy snickered, and finished her cocoa. Alfred shooed both of them back to bed, and this time she slept for more than four hours. It was great. She slept, and dreamed of ninja movies.

Chapter Text

Dick proved he wasn't quite done being a kid by waking her up at ass o'clock in the morning by balancing a ball on her nose.

She sat up in bed with a yelp, and the ball rolled onto the floor. Dick was hovering, grinning. The window was still dark behind him, but the hall door was open and that lent enough light to see by. He was wearing another sweater vest, in green.

"Don't you sleep?"

"It's Christmas," he retorted. "And you said you'd shop with me."

"Why me?" Darcy said, falling back into her pillow and trying to figure out when her life had gone wrong.

She had it narrowed down to 'somewhere in New Mexico.'

"Dunno," he said cheerfully, "But you're here and awake, so you might as well come see the tree."

Swayed by this, Darcy shooed him from her room and bundled up in robe and slippers, and followed his energetic form downstairs.

He slid down the bannister, doing an acrobat's landing at the end.

"Are you this bouncy all the time, too?"

"Nah, sometimes I'm worse," he told her, walking backwards. "Why?"

"I need more coffee."

"We've got coffee! And eggnog. And mistletoe."

Dick waggled his eyebrows at her, making her laugh.

"B. took my list seriously, didn't he."

"He does that. He's asleep now, but he'll be up soon, I bet. Well, relatively soon."

"Okay."

"So are you his girlfriend or what?" Dick navigated a doorway and hallway without turning around. Darcy was reluctantly impressed.

"Or what."

The Christmas tree was huge, covered in white lights and bright ornaments. Darcy eyed it with favor.

"You decorated?"

"It was mostly Alfred, but I helped. I did the upper branches."

"This is impressive," she said, eyeing the many intertwining layers of ornaments that still managed to look like a tree frosted in snow, not a funky mess. "I admit, I'd probably have gone with more multi-colored funky stuff."

Darcy's middle name might as well be 'likes a funky messy.'

"Next year?"

"Uh."

Dick raised his hands in an achingly familiar gesture and said, "Hey, no problem, I didn't mean to-"

The tone was familiar too. Darcy pointed at him.

"You. Coffee. Now."

Dick blinked at her change in tone and expression and said, "Sure. Back in a flash."

He trotted off, leaving her to sit on the couch next to the tree, brain full of white noise and far too little caffeine.

"Coffee!" he said, pushing a mug the size of a small mountain into her hands. "I hope you like black. I can get something else if you don't. Are you okay?"

"Do you know what I do for a living."

"No-o?" he said, in the tones of someone who did but didn't want to admit it.

"I work on interdimensional wormhole physics with Jane Foster. It involves a surprising amount of running around after Thor making sure he doesn't die and isn't, say, kidnapped by extradimensional dragons to power their nests, but my point is, you're twelve."

One of his eyebrows quirked up.

"So?"

She took a deep sip of the coffee. It was really good.

"This is really good," said Darcy, because she didn't filter much.

"Thanks," he said, arms folded, eyes wary. He looked - yeah. He looked like himself. Who looked like someone who had woken her up at 3 in the morning. It was the tone of voice, more than anything, that told her she was right, though, because again, not a very visual person.

"If you ever wake me up at three in the morning again, my vengeance is going to be epic. I've had smiting lessons. Lessons. In smiting."

She thought maybe Dick went pale. It was hard to tell. This was not the day she'd expected. She tried a smile, which he didn't return.

"C'mon, relax. Sidekick honor code - I'm not going to blow your -" she waved a hand vaguely. "Your thing, whatever it is."

His shoulders eased, and he perched on the arm of the couch next to her, wrapping his arms around one knee. He was still eyeing her warily.

"You okay?" she prodded.

"...don't tell Bruce? Or, anyone? Ever?"

"Can't promise ever," she said thoughtfully. "But it's Christmas. Let's just - do Christmas. Say, do you get kidnapped a lot? Jane gets kidnapped a lot, and then I end up kidnapped. It sucks."

"I don't get kidnapped," he said with dignity, and she saw Robin for a second, lack of cape or not. "I go scouting and, uh, discover enemy forces."

"And get tied up as bait," Darcy suggested.

"And get myself untied! It's part of my process."

"See, that part I could use some practice in. For us it's more like, wait until Thor comes along and breaks the chains, I am so not Houdini."

He grinned at her, expression open and innocent as a baby bird's.

"I could show you a few tricks. The simple stuff."

"Thor almighty," she said, "You're going to be a heartbreaker in a few years."

His grin widened.

"Miss Darcy, Master Dick? Breakfast is ready," said Alfred from the doorway.

"Coming, Alfred," said apparently-Robin, what the hell, and Darcy trailed after him into the next room, where there was breakfast.

A lot of breakfast.

And for a while, consuming her weight in bacon and coffee was all Darcy worried about. (There was something big looming at the edge of her consciousness, but she pushed it aside. Coffee. Christmas.)

Chapter Text

Curled up on a couch by a Christmas tree, with a blanket over her knees and Dick - Robin - Dick - staring in fascination at the t-shirts on her computer screen, Darcy took a moment to admit this was weird, even for her. At least there was eggnog with a reasonable portion of rum in it. Eggnog was good.

It wasn't that he was a superhero or sidekick. That was fine.

It wasn't that he had a secret identity. She was used to SHIELD, who had secret everything. That was fine.

It was - Bruce.

"Does Bruce know?" she asked, tagging a very nerdy shirt for later discussion.

"About this shirt thing? No. Better to ask forgiveness...."

"Will he hate them? I meant the, uh, thing. The other thing."

"I don't spend a lot of time in casual settings where they'd be appropriate."

"And the other thing?" she prodded.

"No. Bruce... doesn't know." He hesitated, studying her for a long few moments. "I can tell you how it happened."

"That... would help. If it's okay."

"Bruce took me in after my parents died," Dick said, eyeing the Christmas tree. "I'm grateful for that, I am. But my parents didn't die in an accident. They were murdered. And I... I needed to find who killed them."

The raw honesty in his voice made her heart hurt. No twelve year old should look like that.

"And that's how you met Batman."

"...yeah." He shifted, and busied himself for a little while flipping through the online listings. She let him, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable, the subject as touchy as Thor's brother.

"Batman helped me find them. Ever since then, I've been helping him out, too. Bruce is busy a lot, so it's not hard to find time."

"That's...." She wasn't sure what that was. "Want to hear the story of how I first met Thor?"

And so she told him about tornados and false IDs and government spooks and strange, earnest gods, giant robots and gave, as best she could describe, Thor's explanation of the importance of worthiness.

"His brother's the one who was arrested in New York, right? Loki."

"I don't talk about his brother, mostly because his brother is a sexist-" she cut off the rest of that sentence. Twelve. The kid was still twelve, sidekick or not. "Can I convince you to get a Thor t-shirt?"

"Depends. Does it come in red?"

"Let's see."

And so they went a-t-shirt-hunting, and Darcy's thoughts went something like this: should I tell Bruce? Does he already know? If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Bruce isn't stupid. Is Bruce involved? What would I do if Bruce was involved? Why did I come again? This is really good eggnog, by Thor's hammer.

Chapter Text

Bruce emerged from his lair hiding a faint limp, and they were all a swirl of Christmas dinner, presents, and the annual tradition of watching It's a Wonderful Life. She caught Bruce and Dick arguing in low tones in the next room a couple times, but she avoided interrupting. That was private.

Darcy's attempts to distract herself from this being, apparently, another part of her superheroes-and-friends life (he said he wasn't safe to know, Darcy, you should have known, you should have asked) were miserable failures. But the movie was fun, and the fragile peace that descended was just that, fragile, she could feel Bruce's nerves echoing her own, and she couldn't read anything from Dick, but that unreadable cheer was a tell in its own way. Sometimes Thor was most cheerful when his life was falling apart. Bruce sat in the middle, with Darcy curled up against him on one side, Dick lounging on the other, and by the end of the movie all three of them had started being a little more relaxed. Darcy had piles of family, more than a girl could reasonably ask for, but being invited into this one - it felt precious, and she tried to hide how privileged she felt to be included.

A satisfied glance from Bruce said she hadn't hidden it well enough from him. (On the other hand, maybe it was just the contrast with the silent treatment, said her helpfully cynical side. Her helpfully cynical side was having a field day with today.)

"So, I'm going to go check on-" Dick checked himself and continued, "That thing with the cat."

"Remember to check in," Bruce said, and that was that. Dick left, and they were alone.

Darcy sighed, smiling at him.

"Thanks for inviting me. This has been - cool. Not quite what I expected."

One of his eyebrows twitched up fractionally.

"What did you expect?"

Not Robin. Not....

Darcy waved hands vaguely.

"More champaign, less sweatervests."

"Not exactly the sort of thing you want around a child," he said. "I keep work and play and home separate."

"I can see that," she said. "Home-you is pretty cool. I wish I'd met him six months ago."

The bond sang defensiveness.

"Have I been that bad?"

"I don't know. There was the month you didn't answer my texts, but there were the two months I was on another planet. Does that even out?"

"I don't think you ran off to Asgard just to avoid talking to me," he said, but there was a question hidden under there.

"No. Thor was in trouble, and when Thor's in trouble...." Another cheerfully vague hand gesture. "That's the deal."

"The deal?"

"The superhero and sidekick deal."

"Ah."

He felt uncomfortable, in her head, with that fuzzy edge of worry-about-privacy, and she realized this was it. This was the moment. This was the moment she asked him if he was Batman.

"So, what would you like to do this evening?" he asked.

And that was the moment sailing merrily by. Darcy cursed herself for a coward.

"How long is Dick going to be out?"

"A while. He's keeping track of a stray cat."

God damn it, she was not a coward. She was not going to worry about this fragile peace, even if she was exhausted from running to hell and Asgard and back for months and eating food cooked over a fire and terror and adrenaline and-

And Bruce was hugging her. He gave very good hugs, solid and warm and how had she forgotten he was deadly gorgeous?

His expression was mild, but hers was a grin as she kissed him.

"I can think of a few things to do," she said, and pulled him in for another kiss. He responded enthusiastically and, oh, skillfully.

At least she wasn't being a coward about this.

If they were avoiding conversation, they avoided it enthusiastically. They avoided it upstairs, banging into a wall, and then into his bedroom, clothes getting lost along the way. They avoided it as the door fell closed behind them, leaving them alone together in the dark, the bond between them amplifying every feeling, every touch. Darcy managed to forget what she'd been worrying about entirely.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Darcy parked herself on a lab stool, fiddling seriously with the doohickey in her hands. It was one of those measure-the-wavelengths-of-the-ether ones that made very little sense but emitted interesting beeping noises, and it was not beeping. This was a problem.

"I really meant this to be movies and girl talk night," Jane said apologetically, bent over her computer screen scrolling through endless screens of numbers. "But astrological phenomena do not wait for us to be having a good day to occur, and this is a good one."

"A phenomenal phenomenon?" Darcy joked, prying open the cover of the doohickey with a screwdriver.

"Exactly."

"So what are hypothetical us watching, then?"

In not-a-lab, running on something other than poptarts and coffee, obviously. Hypothetical her probably had a blanket and a comfy couch and ice cream. (Ice cream was strictly forbidden around the doohickeys.)

"Oh, one of those sweet romantic comedies from the 90s. The one with the rival bookstore owners who keep writing back and forth by email and not meeting in person, because they're convinced the other one is evil, when really they're soulmates, and they meet at the end while he's walking his dog."

"That one's pretty good," Darcy agreed. "But it's one of those 'everything's fixed once you meet your soulmate' ones, I'm having a harder and harder time buying them."

There was a spider nest in the doohickey. Darcy began prying it loose gently with a metal pointy thing, on the theory that she needed some good karma in her life.

"I'm beginning to worry about you," Jane said after a while. "This is new and strange and I dislike it."

"I've kinda been pretending I hadn't met him. Getting on with life as usual, you know? I just didn't get... why me. Why him."

"Do you get it now?"

"I'm beginning to, I think. This morning aside, this week was - it was nice. Well, nice isn't the word. Uh. Sexy brooding might be the word."

"That's two words."

"Sexbrooding?"

"That's disturbing."

"Broodsexing? No, that sounds like we're chickens."

"Darcy, I hope he's as fundamentally weird as you are."

"I think he is," Darcy said, gently turning the spider nest out onto a tray and beginning to clean and close the doohickey.

"And you will note I have been a very good friend and not asked his name."

"You've been a great friend," Darcy said staunchly.

"Though I did do a few quick calculations based on jet flight times and I have a geographical profile figured out."

"Jane." Darcy sighed. "I'm not even sure it's a secret, it's just."

"You don't want things to change?"

"Bruce Wayne, Wayne Enterprises," Darcy said abruptly. "He's very pretty."

Darcy pulled up a picture of him on her phone, by way of supporting evidence. Jane turned away from his computer to study it.

Darcy's eyes narrowed, and she said, "I can see you thinking Thor's hotter. I can see it."

Jane grinned.

"It's not my fault he's been voted most dreamy alien three years running."

"Pff. So. Can I ask, um, about your bond?"

It was a rude question. It was way beyond a rude question, but Jane was okay with rude, and Darcy had long ago resigned herself to not being crowned Queen Tact.

"Oh, it's very typical. We have a touch sensitivity and a location sense. I have a theory that feeling the pull of the location sense was why I was so interested in the stars and wormholes in the first place. Do you have location?"

"No," Darcy said, screwing the doohickey's cover down and putting it with the pile of working doohickeys. "We have empathy, and telepathy too when one of us is injured, but no location. And touch sensitivity, too."

"Oh, empathy? How strong is that on the Ellis scale?"

Darcy blinked at her.

"Short version, how clear is the picture you get? Do you get empathic bleed?"

Darcy spun her chair around in a circle, contemplating the ceiling and her bond.

"Well, right now he's busy and focused, which is almost all the time. Earlier he was having fun. When I'm in the same house with him I start getting snatches of what he's focused on, and I think I'm weirdly fond of his butler."

"Sounds pretty high on the scale," Jane said. "That could be good."

"Or bad, if we're both pissed with each other," Darcy pointed out. "Part of why I haven't been in a hurry to rush to his open arms, if he had open arms."

"Well, what do you think your bond is? And could you pass me the scanner?"

Darcy passed her the scanner and got up to get them some coffee. She answered once she was back, and coffee was being consumed.

"We're both goal oriented," Darcy said. "And private. He's all about work and his people, and I'm all about work and my people."

"Darcy, you share everything you do on facebook."

"Not everything! Most things. Many things. A large percentage of the things. Being okay with sharing doesn't mean I'm not private, it just means I'm a well adjusted member of my generation. Want me to run out and plant these on the roof?"

She gestured at the doohickeys.

"Please," said Jane. "Then we can get the van out and go hunting."

"It was so much cooler when the hunting was literal," Darcy sighed. "So much."

"Shoo," ordered Jane, and Darcy proceeded to haul beeping things up three flights of stairs. For science.

Hypothetical romcoms and ice cream Darcy was probably having a much nicer evening, but Darcy couldn't find it in her to complain. The stars were beautiful and clear, distant galaxies winking at her. There was Mars, right on schedule, doing its Mars thing.

Chapter Text

B. sent her 'sorry I wasn't there the morning after we had gloriously athletic sex' flowers. Darcy considered throwing them in the bin, but hugged them to her chest and was gloriously happy instead.

It helped that her new google alert for Batman said he'd spent the morning after Christmas day stopping a complicated bomb plot involving poison gas. You had to make allowances for that sort of thing.

It wasn't that she was sure. But there were basically three options.

1. Dick was Robin and Bruce wasn't Batman, but had guessed about Robin.
2. Dick was Robin and Bruce wasn't Batman, but hadn't guessed about Robin.
3. Dick was Robin and Bruce was Batman, and it explained - more than it didn't.

And until she asked him about it, he hadn't lied to her. Even looking back through everything, she couldn't find a time he'd lied to her. Sure, he had an explaining himself allergy, but he'd never looked her in the eye and said 'I do not dress up as a giant bat and fight crime with my superpowers that may or may not exist, reports are mixed.'

It was in this mood, sitting in a crappy airport drinking airport coffee and reading twitter, that Darcy got an unfortunate phone call from her mother. She got through most of it on automatic, until her mother said, "So I think you should explain why you missed Christmas, Darcy. The world wasn't ending that I know of."

"Uh."

"And you haven't met your soulmate."

"Uh."

"So I'd really like an explanation."

What was the difference between privacy and secrecy and lies, really?

It was what happened at moments like this.

"So, funny story about meeting my soulmate. Um."

"Darcy Elizabeth Lewis."

"He's... can I tell you about him?"

She abruptly realized how much she wanted to tell someone about B.

"Of course, pumpkin," her mom said, and then there was a bit of white noise that was her mom doing the usual mom things about being able to tell her anything, you could have told me sooner, et cetera, et cetera, and there was Darcy's cue to jump back into the conversation.

"He's older than me, but not by that much. Six, seven years? I forget. He's got a kid, well, adopted a kid, and he has a butler. Because he's weirdly rich. And he's a bit of a stalker, in a hot way, like remember that time I liked Tim and I read everything he'd ever put online? Like that."

"And you've avoided googling him, then," her mother said dryly.

"C'mon, it's my duty as a red-blooded American to google my dates."

"Where does he live?"

"Gotham."

A silence on the line.

"Yeah, I know, but I was there a week ago and it wasn't that bad, really, I didn't get exploded or kidnapped or anything, and it has Batman and he's keeping things - well, they're better, apparently, I've been reading up on the crime stats-"

"You don't have to quote the crime statistics of Gotham to me, Darcy. So that's a lot of facts about him, but what's he like? How long have you known?"

"Six months, give or take a few days. He's... smart. Like, really smart, Jane smart, he's always doing three or five things in his head. He's... really calm when things are crazy, you know I like that. Angry, but he doesn't get angry with me."

"That's mostly emotions," her mom observed.

"We're an empathic bond, and I'm always traveling," Darcy defended. "Most of the time I know what he's feeling, not what he's thinking."

"I thought, when you met someone, you'd settle down," her mother observed quietly.

"Mom. Seriously. Half the reason I love him is that he's not going to ask me to settle down in Gotham for no reason except fate. You know I hate fate."

"I seem to remember a few teenage lectures on the unfairness of the system, yes," Darcy's mother said dryly. "I suppose this would be an undiplomatic time to ask about grandchildren."

"So undiplomatic. They should make you our ambassador to the UN, you could start World War Three and save us all the trouble of trying to make peace."

Her mother said something else, but it was drowned out by something from the airport loudspeaker.

"Mom, that's my flight, got to go. Love you, give my love to dad."

Chapter Text

Darcy let her eyes fall closed and her head fall back against the pillow. This had not been a good day. January had been shaping up to be such a nice month until that wall fell on her.

Stupid lack of superhuman reflexes and healing powers and stupid Thor's endless array of enemies.

Hey, B? she asked, reaching fuzzily for their telepathic bond.

Darcy. Can this wait?

Sorry. You're probably busy.

A pause.

You're hurt, he said, the words flavored with irritation/worry.

Broke my leg, she agreed. Got nice drugs but they're taking a while to kick in. Got a question for you.

Ask.

You have a girlfriend?

It seemed important, somehow, somewhere in the fog that was a mixture of drugs and pain. Pain made it hard to think.

It's- an uncharacteristic hesitation. Complicated.

It's okay if you do. I'm not a soulbond bigot, you know. Not going to... drag you to the altar and chain you to it. Even if I could, which I probably couldn't. Tell Dick I want him to show me that thing, too.

What thing?

No way. It's a private thing. You know what private things are. Not a bad thing. No crime involved. Possibly ice cream. I like ice cream.

You're high, Darcy.

Probably. If you aren't my boyfriend, I should call Ian so he can visit me in the hospital and bring me ice cream. He isn't my boyfriend either, but we have a lot of post hey-I-can't-believe-we-survived-that-elf-invasion sex.

I dislike the existence of magic. It's illogical.

It's all magic to me, whether it's science or magic or both. Anyway, what is a soulbond if not magic?

Well, there have been some convincing studies that it's a product of quantum entanglement.

Magic quantum entanglement.

She got silence back from the bond, and fell asleep. She'd tease him about magic later, she was sure.

Chapter Text

"Lady Darcy! Are you well?"

Thor stood in the doorway, tall and blond and cheerful. Darcy took her headset off so that she could hear him and not the dulcet tones of Madonna.

"Hey, big guy. How's hammering?"

"Engaging!"

He told her about his life and quests for a little bit, then he grinned and asked, "So, how is your soulmate?"

Darcy waved explanatory hands.

"God, he's such an alien."

"Is he really?" Thor asked, interested. "Perhaps we have much in common!"

"It's a phrase, dude, An, um, idiom. You remember I explained about idioms?"

"Yes. Saying you go to slay the vorthunk is one idiom, and saying you are hunting the jabberwock is another idiom," he agreed.

"Exactly," Darcy said solemnly. "And confusing the two leads to nerd tears. No one wants nerd tears."

"In seriousness, Darcy, I have come to offer you lodgings at the Tower while you recover. It is the least I can do."

"Should I be concerned about the competition?" asked a light, easy voice, as Bruce freakin' Wayne came through the door of her hospital room, bearing a big bunch of flowers, which he set on her end table.

"Not at all," said Thor. "Darcy, who is your friend?"

"Thor, this is Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne, Thor. Bruce Wayne knows enough hot blondes that he has no leg to stand on when it comes to me knowing them."

She watched them shake hands, grinning like a maniac. Sometimes life was funny. The soulbond said 'wary' and she sent amusement down it.

"Bruce Wayne and I are in an open relationship," Darcy said solemnly. "It's like monogamy without the stress. Do you have open relationships on Asgard, Thor?"

"I do not believe so, no. Will you explain this to me?"

"Some time."

Bruce kissed her, which was both surprising and, mm, pleasant. Good soulmate.

"What's this about you moving into Avengers Tower?" Bruce asked, still in that light tone.

"Lady Darcy was injured while assisting me, it is the least I can do."

"Oh, that makes sense," Bruce said with a little laugh. "Everyone knows Avengers Tower is safe. Like, oh, what was it, two months ago, when that hoard of flying monkeys attacked it."

Darcy wrinkled her nose.

"That's the Wizard of Oz."

"You don't believe me?" Bruce asked her, pouting. Bruce. Pouting.

It would have been entirely believable, though, if not for the grim good humor and worry flickering through the soul bond. As it was, it was like one of those optical illusions - the two images refused to mesh.

"I dunno, it seems like something that might happen," she allowed.

He laughed.

"I could be wrong. I don't pay that much attention to these things."

"Shall I leave you two to your reunion?" Thor said, a bit of an evil twinkle in his eye.

"Thooor. He's going to drive me crazy."

"Indeed. You are so unhappy to see him you have not stopped smiling since he walked into the room," Thor said solemnly. "This is a Midgardian custom I have heard of."

"Oh, get out," Darcy said, laughing. "Or I'll dye all your socks green."

Thor bowed himself out, and Bruce asked, with wide-eyed curiousity, "Does he wear socks?"

"I have no idea," Darcy said. "Come here and kiss me again?"

"I shouldn't," he murmured. "You'll take it as positive reinforcement for getting yourself hurt."

"Hrmph. Why can't you be easy to boss around."

He laughed again, that light, easy laugh that didn't echo in the soulbond.

"I've been called many things, but not easy to boss around."

"Worried about me?"

"You broke your leg, Darcy."

"A wall fell on me. It was heavy." She threw herself back in her bed dramatically. "You should feel sorry for me."

"I really don't. Why were you under a collapsing wall in the first place?"

"You're going to think it's stupid."

"Anything that gets your leg broken is on my list," he said, not disagreeing.

"There was a cat. It was sort of frozen in terror or something."

He grinned slowly.

"What happened to the cat?"

"I think Jane has it."

"I have a friend who is very fond of bedraggled cats. I might take it off her hands."

"What sort of friend?"

"A female friend."

"Huh."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"If you being with people bothered me, I would have harassed you about it the first time I read about you in the tabloids with an entire cheerleading team."

"Did you believe that one?" Lightly.

"...well, when you put it like that, I begin to think I don't."

"They're lovely ladies, but a man has limits."

"You do?"

"Hm?"

"Have limits. Do you?"

He stared at her for long seconds.

"This was a mistake," he said flatly.

"C'mon, what are you worried about - that I'll end up in the hospital? I've got news for you, dude."

"I'd love it if you'd stop throwing yourself into danger with no training."

Darcy - couldn't actually argue that one.

"I came to suggest you stay with Dick and I while you're off your feet. I think he'd like that."

"You did? Really?"

It just didn't sound like him. Either of him. Whichever of him she was talking to.

Another quiet laugh.

"Dick may have suggested it."

"Well, if Dick suggested it. He is the boss."

"So he would like us all to think, yeah. So, what do you think of the idea?"

Chapter Text

Bruce owning a jet did not, at this point, surprise her.

Bruce flying the jet, after she'd crutched herself onto it and looked around for him, did. She found him alone in the pilot's seat, and she wedged herself into the co-pilot's by default.

"You can fly a plane?"

He shot her an innocent playboy smile.

"Can't everyone?"

"You enjoy screwing with me," she noted. "I am plotting an elaborate revenge."

"Are you really?"

"Yeah, but I figure I'll need Dick's help to pull it off. Or Alfred. All three of us? It seems like some sort of teamup should occur."

"Is that why you agreed to stay in Gotham until you can walk without crutches."

"Among other reasons," she said. "My leg itches."

"Oh, I know. I've had broken bones."

"Yeah?"

"Skiing accidents, mostly. Among other things."

"Hm."

"You don't believe me," he observed, doing complicated-looking things to the controls, then radioing with flight control. Darcy didn't bother to answer until after they'd taken off.

"I don't think you're a very honest person," she said finally. "Offense intended, if you take it."

"Oh?"

"You didn't even mention Dick existed until I met him. I mean, I read about him on your Wikipedia page, but that's different."

"You want to know about Dick?"

"No. Well, sure, but that isn't my point."

"What is?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out, B." She sighed. "It's too bad this soulmate thing doesn't come with a manual."

"Oh, I think it does. We meet, settle down with each other, and have tons of babies."

"You want tons of babies? Because I could be convinced, those would be some banging kids."

His face kept that faint smile, but the bond sang 'is she serious?' He continued piloting the jet smoothly, their conversation not phasing his ability to concentrate.

"So, was I right about the open relationship thing?" she asked. "I was guessing."

"I was planning to ignore my soulmate," he said, eyes on the clouds. "I though it would... cramp my style. Except here you are, not wanting white picket fences and getting buildings dropped on you and lost in the mountains of Wyoming in snowstorms and pulling - flashy stunts."

Darcy mulled this, closing her eyes to feel the emotions in the soulbond more closely.

"I'm really freaking you out," she said slowly. "Like, a lot. You're freaking me out, too, if it helps."

"What did I do?"

"Unless you've forgotten, I'm not the only one who's gotten hurt lately. That does come through the bond, you know. Remember? I met Alfred?"

"I remember. I'm... sorry. That was very helpful, and I appreciate your - discretion."

"So, the open relationship thing?"

"I'm not dating anyone else," he said. "There are women, but it isn't serious. And you?"

"Well, I've been enjoying not committing to anything with you," Darcy joked. "Say, did you get commitment issues free with this soul, too?"

"No. My issues are of a different variety."

"Oh, good. We can start a collection."

"You are a cheerful soul," he said dryly.

"I'm going to watch you fly a plane now, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed, and she settled down to watch him be competent.

God damn that was hot.

Chapter Text

Alfred unloading Darcy's bag from a long black car and the startled expression on his face as she dropped a crutch to hug him tightly.

"Hello, miss."

"Hi, Alfred," Darcy said, before she crutched her way up the steps of Wayne Manor, leaving unsaid the complex knot of feelings she-they felt about him.

#

"Dick! Rescue me from boredom. B.'s been out all day doing business things and I'm actually literally going to stab myself in the eye if I spend any more time proofreading Jane's latest paper. How was school? Want to teach me bondage tricks? I say in a platonic, not weird way."

Dick's breakdown into hysterical laughter had not been called for at all.

#

Playing poker with B. and Dick was the worst thing ever. It hadn't been so bad at first, because she'd been able to read B.'s luck via the bond, but he had the world's best poker face and Dick kept making faces.

But if Bruce's faintly frustrated disappointment was anything to go by-

Darcy laid down her two pair and waggled her eyebrows at them. The others laid their cards out as well, and Darcy sighed horribly. In the face of his epic victory, Bruce's faint disappointment did not waver one bit.

"You're doing that on purpose," Darcy said sternly to him. "And I am not going to indulge this attention-seeking behavior. Dick, does he have tells? Tell me he has tells."

"Of course he does," Dick said solemnly. "But if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Nerd," Darcy said severely.

"Excuse me, Master Bruce," said Alfred, coming into the dining room and standing formal and polite by the door.

"Yes, Alfred?" B. asked, leaning back in his chair, appearing completely and utterly at ease with the world.

"I've taken the liberty of canceling your morning meeting with the charitable committee, as it seems the city has been invaded by a robot army and I'm sure it will do terrible things for traffic."

"Right," Bruce said, his tone going lighter and easier, his smile broad and thoughtful and empty. "Good thinking, Alfred."

A moment of silence stretched around the table. Darcy watched a wordless look pass between B. and Dick, and gathered up the cards, yawning falsely. She didn't hide the rising worry making her chest clench.

"Well," she said, echoing B.'s false casualness right back at him. "Sounds like this party's over. I'm going to bed, guys."

For a long, breathless moment, she had B.'s complete attention. She smiled faintly at him.

"Good night, Darcy. I'll talk to you tomorrow," he said.

And that was how Darcy learned about Ultron.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t like Darcy got any sleep that night. She holed up in her room on the Wayne astonishingly good wifi, and wondered what it said about her and her soulmate that they had separate bedrooms in his huge super fancy mansion, even if those bedrooms were technically on the same corridor.

She evaluated the situation, sent Jane a few increasingly tense emails, stayed off the cell phone network out of trained ‘emergency calls only during alien and/or robot invasion’ reflex, and settled down to track robot sightings on Google Maps.

She didn’t hear from Jane, which was not entirely surprising because Jane in the grips of science was hard to shake loose even with a war literally in front of her. Thor was out of touch. Not only was Thor out of touch, the entire Avengers tower was out of touch – and on fire, depending on the news report.

In Gotham, robots were attempting to enforce a curfew and Gotham’s residents, never the most lawful bunch, were enforcing the curfew right back. Batman was in the thick of it, his Robin beside him, and Darcy realized, suddenly, that she’d never understood what Jane felt, watching Thor face off against alien robots. Not until just now.

It didn’t help that as far as the world knew, the Hulk had rampaged through an African city and then the entire Avengers team had gone AWOL. After, let it be noted, unleashing a plague of killer robots.

This was why Darcy didn’t worship Iron Man. Thor didn’t unleash plagues of killer robots.

After one last email to Jane around 4 in the morning, Darcy lay back in her absurdly comfortable bed and stared up at the ceiling and started counting sheep.

Well, sort of sheep.

One I’m-going-to-strangle-Tony-Stark, two I’m-going-to-strangle-Tony-Stark, three I’m-going-to-strangle-Tony-Stark, four I’m-going-to-strangle-Tony-Stark….

#

By the time Darcy woke up the next day, robots were still trying to take over the world, but at least they weren’t trying to take over the world in Gotham. Scattered news reports and cell phone videos out of eastern Europe suggested that everything was going to hell. Darcy dragged herself downstairs to the kitchen, where Alfred supplied coffee, still glued to her phone, deeply resenting her crutch and her life and stairs.

Who invented stairs, anyway.

#

Bruce and Dick turned up a few hours later, looking very much like two fellas who had stayed up all night fighting evil robots, or in other words, like shit. The soulbond hummed with exhaustion under iron control, and someone had sprained his wrist and was pretending he hadn’t. Darcy briefly considered calling him on it, but her attention was caught by Dick’s silent presence, still as a painting and quietly tense. She ignored B., for the moment, beckoning Dick over with two authoritative fingers.

“C’mere.”

She hauled herself to her feet, and hauled him in for a tight hug, balancing on one leg.

“Good job with the bus, kid,” she said quietly.

Robin rescuing a busload of civilians from evil robots hadn’t been the worst thing she’d seen on the news last night, but it had been memorable all the same. Who knew someone could do that with a piece of grappling cord?

“Glad someone thinks so.”

“Hey, B’s busy flipping out,” she continued. Dick smelled like dust and rubble and smoke. “Go shower or something.”

“Holy cats, you’re weird,” Robin said, helping her sit down again.

B had taken the seat across from her, and obtained a cup of coffee. Darcy approved of the coffee, at least.

“We should talk,” he said.

“We really should, dude. Should you get some sleep, first?”

“No.”

“I can’t get ahold of Thor. Or Jane.” she said, making patterns in her coffee with her spoon. “So today is not a good day.”

She appreciated that he didn’t tell her everything was going to be alright. Everything was manifestly not alright.

“We have to assume the Avengers task force has been compromised,” he said, almost gently. “Gotham is still the safest place for you.”

“It sounds like my usual base of operations got set on fire or exploded or something,” she admits. “And Jane was flying from – Australia? – it might have been Australia. That was today or yesterday.”

“Flights have been grounded, but I’ll find her.”

“You probably have more important-“

“I’ll find her.”

Well. That was manly, Darcy thought, in a slightly annoying way. If not for the soulbond, would she be able to read B – Batman, let’s be honest with ourself, at least – at all? She looked at his controlled expression, his cool blue eyes, and felt the soulbond sing determination and protective affection. Possessive, too. She wondered if he knew how much the word ‘mine’ described how he felt about her.

She didn’t think she’d tell him.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

“A little. I wanted to be awake in case we were coming down with a serious case of living in The Matrix.”

“Breakfast, Master Bruce?” asked Alfred, calm as could be, from the stove.

“Later, Alfred.” A pause. “Can I take you upstairs, Darcy?”

“Sure. But I demand help with the stairs, because oh my god. Never again.”

He carried her up the stairs. Darcy was so busy being torn between telling him that was hot and telling him she knew he had a sprained wrist that she quite forgot to talk at all. Instead, she stole a kiss before he put her down. It didn't seem like the right time, but it also seemed like they might die in a robot uprising. It was a very good kiss.

#

Darcy was settled on a comfortable couch in the Wayne library, which had a piano. Darcy wanted to tell the Wayne family that libraries did not have pianos, but it seemed besides to point. B. was devoting all his attention to her again. Darcy raised her eyebrows at him.

“Legally, soulmates may not be called upon to testify against each other,” he said abruptly.

“So, if I need an alibi-“

“You won’t call me.”

“No, I won’t, I’ll call Jane. But the principle holds.”

“My point,” B. said, pacing the length of the library, half-circling around the piano each time, “Is that I have appreciated your discretion the past few months in not narrating our relationship on twitter.”

“Oh. No problem.”

“And your skill in information analysis and retrieval is commendable.”

“Oh-kay….”

He stopped pacing, standing in front of the piano.

“I think you know what I’m about to show you,” he said, and if he weren’t Batman Darcy would have thought he seemed – uncomfortable. Shy?

“Well, if it’s the superhero thing, sure. I’m sorry, did you want to reveal it in a dramatic moment? Because we can go back to pretending I don’t know that you know that I know that you’re-“

“I’m not a superhero,” he said, and for the first time in their conversation he sounded angry.

“Then what are you, dude?”

“Someone with a mission.”

The bond was abruptly locked down tighter than a nun’s undies, and Darcy decided not to push.

“I’d take you downstairs with me, but we haven’t installed an elevator. Just try to stop worrying about robots crashing through the windows, please? It’s distracting.”

“So give me something to do. I’m fine if I have something to do, it’s when I’m sitting around waiting that I start flipping out and fondling my taser.”

“You have such a way with words,” he said dryly. “You can monitor the news for me, since you’ve been doing that already.”

Batman’s superpower was obviously reading minds.

“And you’ll be-?”

“Ultron’s on the internet. Now that it’s not on the streets, I can concentrate on that.”

“Goodie. The Avengers-“

“I’ll let you know if I find reliable information.”

He played three notes on the piano, and a door swung open in the wall. As he swept through into the stone corridor behind it, his shadow stretched out behind him like a giant beast.

Darcy told herself firmly that she needed to find time for a power nap and some toast, because shadows just weren’t that poetic. For now, though, she went back to her news feeds on the convenient tablet, and resisted the urge to call Jane again.

Jane would be fine. Thor would be fine. Thor was always fine, even when he was fighting armies.

There was nothing to worry about.

Chapter Text

Darcy saluted Alfred with her crutches. The day had worn on, naps a forgotten dream, in a haze of information organization and retrieval and coffee. Alfred was the bearer of coffee. Alfred was sacred.

"Is it okay if I worship you as a minor deity, dude?" Darcy asked him, as he retrieved her mug and set a sandwich tantalizingly full of bacon down next to her. He had another tray in his other hand, presumably for B.

"Your dinner, miss," he said, by way of not-answer.

"Thanks. You know, I thought I'd come stay in Gotham for a rest? Get off my busted up leg, take a break?"

"Hm. If I may say, miss, Master Bruce is seldom described as restful."

Darcy choked on a laugh.

"Yeah. I'm getting that."

"Excuse me, miss," and Alfred headed downstairs to deliver dinner to the other cyber-warrior of the day.

Darcy was startled, upon his return up what were either a lot of stairs or a long conversation with B., by his formal, "Master Bruce extends an invitation to join him this evening at a charity ball for the Wayne Foundation, which will be organizing cleanup efforts for the city."

"Shouldn't there be federal disaster relief going on?" Darcy asked, because she was taking a minute to parse going out in public with Bruce Wayne at his Bruce Wayneyest.

"Indeed, miss. Gotham is, however, rather far down that list, and funds have a way of going missing. The Wayne Foundation finds it most efficient to organize these things promptly."

"I don't have anything to wear."

"Master Bruce has left instructions."

And with that not entirely clear answer, Darcy was left to herself, to not-peace and not-quiet. At least the world wasn't ending.

Then the phone rang. Jane, said the caller ID.

"Jane? Jane, ohmigod, why weren't you answering your phone-"

"I was out of satellite range, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm dandy, I'm going to be a princess, what about Thor? The news-"

"I got a voicemail," Jane said, sounding strained. "In between twenty from you. He's gone back to Asgard. I don't know why or for how long, but he wasn't kidnapped so we just - wait."

"At least he's alive? Or arrested for half destroying the world? Do you think they're going to arrest Iron Man?"

"Why would they arrest Tony Stark?"

"It was his creepy robot army! Doing their creepy robot army thing!"

"Oh. I need a drink."

"Right there with you, sister."

Alfred came back into the room, carrying a dress that said 'red' and 'slink' and 'expensive.'

"Gotta go try on dresses. I'll put pics on instagram."

"Darcy? Darcy-"

Darcy tried on the dress. It was red. It went slink. It was cut so that her boobs looked great and her cast looked mostly-hidden, even though the slit up the side meant she could still walk/hobble/kick someone in the teeth if she had to.

Badass.

Chapter Text

"You've got your thinking face on," Darcy told Bruce, studying the stylishly dressed rich dude sitting next to her in the back of the long black car.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"My point is, you can multitask, right? We have a whole ten minutes to ourselves, and I want to make out."

That got what passed for a smile, even if you could only see it in his eyes.

"I can multitask," he agreed.

Darcy wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling herself easily into his lap, and proceeded to smudge her lipstick. It was good to be alive and not conquered by evil robots. If B. was distracted thinking about the fate of the world, you couldn't tell it by the way he kissed.

"Anything I should know before we get there?" Darcy said, distracted from biting his neck.

"You being my soulmate isn't a secret, but if you could be someone who would plausibly be soulmates with Bruce Wayne-"

"So, I should post everything we do on Instagram."

"It would be appreciated."

"Cool."

Darcy went back to what she was doing.

#

As B. helped Darcy out of the car, steadying her as she sorted out her crutch, she was startled by camera flashes. She squinted against the light, even as he maneuvered her inside, out of the reporter's questions. The charity gala itself was a small venue, with a dance floor and a buffet table. It made Darcy think, wistfully, of meeting B. for the first time.

"I'm going to go get some shrimp before someone else eats them all," Darcy told him, interrupting his giddy introductions to the Mayor ("This is my soul mate, aren't I lucky? She should definitely try modeling, don't you think she'd make a great model?")

"Go for it," Bruce told her cheerfully.

By the time Darcy had finished eating enough shrimp to satisfy herself, Bruce had taken to the dance floor with a woman in a black dress. They danced together as if they were one body, the instinctive give and take of people who knew each other well.

"They've totally banged," Darcy observed to the room at large, leaning on her crutch and wondering if she wanted to immortalize this moment on twitter.

Someone next to her started coughing, and then Darcy was clapping him on the back. White hair, badass mustache, vaguely familiar.

"Sorry, dude," Darcy said familiarly. "Sometimes I say words and then I regret them."

"You're here with Bruce Wayne?"

Darcy tossed her hair, which was fabulous, and answered, "He's my other half. I'd say my better half but that's not a proven theory. Scientifically speaking."

"And you're a scientist, miss-?"

"Lab assistant. Darcy Lewis."

Darcy offered her hand for him to shake.

"Jim Gordon. Police commissioner. I've known Bruce for many years."

His glance at B. was strange, and she didn't have the experience to read it. She tugged at the bond, asking it what he thought of Jim Gordon, police commissioner. She got back a wave of friendship, tempered with caution. Darcy smiled. That was sweet, by B's standards.

"Nice to meet his friends."

"Well." The police commissioner sent B. another look. "It was good of him to turn up tonight. Sober."

Darcy thought maybe these were deeper waters than she really wanted to be swimming in.

"Killer robots aren't really drinking material," she told him. "Maybe later, though, huh?"

"Maybe," he said. "Selina Kyle."

"Huh?"

"The woman Wayne is dancing with. Selina Kyle. She's an animal rights activist. She's been coordinating refugee assistance for people with pets, and pets whose owners have been killed."

Darcy studied the dancing pair. They were beautiful together, truly, all black and speed and precision. It was like a fight but no one was dying, and she could see they were talking to each other. Darcy wondered if this was when, if she was someone else, she should feel jealousy. All she felt was pleasure, watching him be happy, feeling him be happy. There probably weren't going to be that many moments like this in the coming months, when nothing was exploding and nothing was hurting and they could just - be.

She realized she hadn't responded to Commissioner Gordon when he said, "He's a lucky man," and she tore her attention away from B. to realize she'd be smiling at him like an idiot. She smiled crookedly at the police commissioner.

"We're working on it," she agreed. "I love him like pie." Darcy tapped her finger against her lips, considering this. "No. More than pie. Slightly less than Pop Tarts. Food of the gods."

She startled a laugh from the commissioner, who said, "I wonder where my wife would rate me on the baked goods scale."

Darcy shrugged loosely.

"Who knows. Should we be schmoozing rich people for money?"

"Well, I should be, as you say, schmoozing. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Lewis."

"Darcy," she corrected him, even as he went off to do police commissioner things.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, as Darcy got a little drunk on really good champagne and celebrated being alive. Lots of people wanted to talk to Bruce Wayne's soulmate, apparently, which was new and different. Kinda cool. Darcy took her picture with everyone until her phone's battery went dead, and then made Bruce promise publically to make Wayne Enterprises make a phone with better battery life just for her. (He had not been as amused as he'd pretended to be, but he'd been a little amused. She'd take it.)

Darcy got the weird and slightly alarming impression that Selina Kyle had hit on her, but Darcy was honestly just confused about what that had been all about. Except apparently Selina was where the cat had ended up, so yay, responsible cat parenting. Or something. Darcy was pretty sure it was all cool.

"Come upstairs," she told Bruce, holding onto his arm in the car later as it pulled into the mansion, "It's been a long-ass day."

"I'm going to Metropolis. There are people I need to talk to. I'm - sorry, Darcy. I'd like to stay. With you."

Damn, boy was awkward. Boy was also anticipating an argument. Darcy did a solemn check-in with herself whether or not she wanted to have an argument. Not really. She was still pleasantly champagne-floaty.

"What're you doing in Metropolis? Really. I won't tell anyone. Not even Dddrobin. Drobin."

"You're drunk."

"I'm a good secret keeper even when I'm drunk. C'mon, share with the class."

"There are people unaffiliated with the Avengers. If the Avengers can't be trusted to safeguard the world - someone has to. Especially when their problems spill into Gotham."

"Hey, Thor safeguards the world just fine-"

"Thor is responsible for more than just Earth. Am I wrong?"

Darcy scowled at him, because he wasn't wrong, that was the damning part. Thor was off on Asgard being responsible or something, not here with her and Jane cleaning up the mess. Again.

"I'm not saying I'm the right man for the job," B. said, looking distant. "But I know the players, and I know who is the right man for the job. I don't know how long it will take."

"You got a name for this club? Not Avengers, I guess."

He kissed her, briefly, and then he got out of the car.

"We're calling it the Justice League."