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TO SAVE A LIFE
AUTHOR’S NOTE This fic deals with suicide which is discussed but not shown. If this is a trigger for you, I’d advise you to hit the back button. I’m honestly not sure where the idea for this came from and will not be adding to it. This was pretty much a “one never knows the impact they might have on a person” type of thing. Belongs to Stan Lee and Marvel. I only own characters you don’t recognize.
Brock Rumlow led his S.T.R.I.K.E team---Jack Rollins, Mark Winters, Christopher Porter, Roger Lanier, and Terrence Kelvin---through the hallways. They had just gotten back from a mission to help out Steve Rogers---also known as Captain America---who was taking out an old HYDRA base.
“Ugh, that was harder than it needed to be,” Roger complained.
“Yeah,” Christopher agreed.
“Hey, I’m just glad I was able to go on this mission with you,” Mark shot back and the rest of the team grimaced.
“Yeah, that sucked. Hated having to pretend to believe in that Nazi crap,” Jack commented. As the only African-American in their group, Mark had been left behind when Fury had recruited the S.T.R.I.K.E. Alpha team for the undercover mission into HYDRA, instead being joined by one of the members of S.T.R.I.K.E. Delta.
“I’m still surprised that Seth Kensington was an actual fucking Nazi,” Terrence stated.
“Yeah, poor Delta Squad. They had no clue that he, Greg Perkins, or Brianna Granger were HYDRA loyal,” Jack noted grimly.
“Have to admit, those three surprised me too,” Brock said, his voice soft, causing Jack to nudge him.
“You all right? I know you and Brianna had some weird flirting thing going on,” he said softly
“Yeah, I’m good,” he assured. Then, “Are they reaching out to any candidates to replace the HYDRA people?”
“Yeah. They’re starting qualifiers today,” Jack responded, recognizing and accepting the change of subject. Obviously his commanding officer wasn’t ready to talk about his former interest in the woman. However, when and if that changed, he’d be ready and willing to listen.
Jack was about to say more when the dinging of one of the elevators caught his attention and he turned to watch as two women walked out of the elevator.
“Is that Jane Foster and her assistant?” Mark asked in surprise.
“Yeah, Fury finally got them to agree to work for him,” Christopher replied.
“How’d he manage that?” Roger wondered.
“Not sure. All very hush hush but I think it had to do with some old phone or something,” Christopher answered, causing the others to look at him in confusion. “Look, I don’t know. I grew up with four older brothers. Girls were and will always be a mystery to me,” he defended himself.
“And that is why you can’t get a date,” Terrence teased, laughing when the other man simply threw him the bird. Ignoring the exchange, Brock watched as women talked, laughing all the while, his gaze centered on Dr. Foster’s assistant. Almost as if sensing that they were being watched, the shorter of the two turned and then her eyes widened and she stared at him, something that Brock wasn’t all together unfamiliar with. People had stared at him after the fall of the Triskelion and he had been covered with burn scars. But those had all been more or less healed thanks to some Asgardian magic and skin grafts and wouldn’t be noticeable by people as far as away as the two women, so why were they staring. On the other hand, the assistant looked more surprised than rude, which was definitely confusing.
Brock was pulled out of his reverie by the feel of an elbow and he gave himself a mental shake.
“Come on. Fury’s waiting on us for the debrief,” he stated and they headed to the director’s office for the debrief, which was relatively short, and afterwards, the S.T.R.I.K.E. team went to the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria to get some food. As the rest of the team talked, Brock smiled to himself, listening to the banter. This is good. They need to be able to decompress, he thought to himself. “It is you.” Hearing the shocked tone, Brock turned around and was surprised to see the woman who had been with Dr. Foster.
“I’m sorry. Do we….know each other?” the S.T.R.I.K.E. Commander queried, his brow furrowing as he racked his brain, trying to place her.
“No. I mean, not really. I’m Darcy Lewis. You stopped to talk to me in a park when I was sixteen. It was raining and just a really miserable night. You offered me your umbrella and then you led me inside one of the buildings near the park while we waited for a friend of mine to pick me up,” she replied and Brock’s eyes widened in shock.
“Were you wearing a black t-shirt with a unicorn and a long denim skirt?” he asked and she nodded.
“You sat and talked with me about two hours,” she stated.
“Yeah I remember that. You seemed to have a lot going on,” he noted. Okay, most of it had sounded like the regular teen problems, but there had also been allusions to some more serious stuff, though she had refused to elaborate, which had been totally fine with younger Brock. He had just been trying to keep her mind off of the fact that her ride had been late.
“I did,” the woman agreed. “What you did that night meant a lot to me,” she added.
“I didn’t really do much,” the man demurred.
“No, you did,” Darcy insisted. She bit her lip and frowned thoughtfully as if debating with herself. “I was planning on killing myself that night,” she confessed and Brock froze, his eyes involuntarily widening.
“What?” he gasped, his gaze stuck on the woman in front of his S.T.R.I.K.E. team.
“I was…I was feeling all alone and like I didn’t matter. I was convinced that everyone I knew would be better off without me, and I had a plan in place,” she told him. “And then…you come out of nowhere and you’re talking to me and you were really listening to me, and you gave me some really good advice. I ended up talking to my parents that night, telling them how I was feeling and what I was planning to do, and they were able to get me some help,” she continued.
“I’m glad you were able to get the help you needed,” Brock said and she smiled.
“I’ll let you get back to your meal. I just wanted to come by and say thank you,” she told him.
“Anytime,” Brock said. “My door’s always open if you ever need a shoulder again,” he offered.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” Darcy promised. She then gave him a quick hug and walked out of the cafeteria.
“Shit, Commander. That was…” Terrence’s voice trailed off, obviously unsure of how to proceed.
“Yeah, I know,” Brock agreed. “I mean, hell. I was twenty-two and all I did was offer an umbrella and a listening ear,” he continued. I really didn’t think that I had made that big of an impact, he mused. But apparently he had. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure what to do with that. He let out a sigh and then continued to where the food was. He’d have to reach out to Ms. Lewis and make sure she was okay. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind it, but if she did, he’d let it alone.
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE If you or someone you know is dealing with depression or suicidal thoughts, you can call NATIONAL SUICIDE PREVENTION LIFELINE: 1-800-273-TALK (8255). They are here to help.