Chapter Text
Bucky was used to the arm, used to the strange, muted sensations that never quite matched up to the real thing. It was strong and dexterous and could feel pressure and temperature in an abstract, distant sort of way. It didn’t feel pain exactly, or understand texture like human skin could, but he was used to the messages it sent.
And yet, in all the years he’d had it, he’d never once known it to tingle. Itch sometimes sure, or pang with a phantom pain that couldn’t possibly exist. But not tingle like this, the metal sheeting holding the memory of her hand in his for hours after she’d been pulled away. The shape of her fingers and the warmth of her touch, his hand seemed to cling to the memory of her like he did.
All he had was the memory at the moment. More than forty eight painfully long hours had passed and he hadn’t seen her once, she had been quarantined by the docs, undergoing all manner of tests and trials and selfishly all he could think about was seeing her for himself.
He did everything he could to distract himself, he paced and paced and ran himself ragged at the gym, punched the bag til it broke then punched it again. Hell, he’d even ventured down to the lobby to buy a pack of smokes, prompted by some half-memory of damp cigarettes in a damper trench. How the snick of a lighter and the drag of smoke into his lungs had calmed him once.
The noise had hit him before the elevator doors even opened, the lobby a crushing sea of people moving back and forth like some giant, writhing mass. There were tours of school kids with brightly coloured backpacks and tourists with flags and flashing cameras. It made his palms sweat and hands clench as he slouched into the shadows, seeing threats in every corner.
The guy with the too-warm coat for the weather, the woman with the bulky duffel bag, a half familiar face in the masses. Hydra was crawling out of the vents as he marched his ass over to the newsagent and bought a cheap lighter and the first pack of cigarettes with a label he vaguely recognised.
Camels, they sounded about right, handing over a fist full of bills he’d swiped from Steve’s place he grabbed the pack and retreated back upstairs. He couldn’t go outside, not with all that noise and weight, not on his own. The idea of it made him dizzy as he got off the elevator early at the landing deck level, you couldn’t smoke inside any more, most people didn’t smoke at all since the health risks had come out.
He wondered if Darcy smoked, probably not, she’d never mentioned it. Would she judge him for it now?
Fuck, he wished he could ask her. It was the longest they’d been apart in weeks, the split made worse by the uncertainty. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone, checking for messages and, seeing none, typing out another quick plea for information from Jane. The third in as many hours. He’d call Darcy herself but he didn’t have her number.
If she didn’t want to speak to him that was fine, if she never wanted to see him again he’d understand, but not knowing if she was alive or dead was too damn much for him.
Tucking the phone into the crook of his arm he fumbled for a cigarette, putting it between his lips and sparking the lighter.
“That’s a filthy habit you know.”
“Dunno if it’s a habit,” he shrugged as Steve stepped up next to him, his gaze fixed on the runes still embedded in the concrete. It didn’t taste like he almost-remembered, bitter and harsh as it burnt his throat.
Steve held a hand out and Bucky passed it over, expecting him to stamp it out and watching instead as he took a drag.
“That’s not very Captain American of you.”
“Sure isn’t,” he muttered, pulling a face as he handed back with a cough, “Nope, don’t get it.”
“You always used to beg me to share,” Bucky said distantly as the skyline became the view from an old apartment building, his body shoved half out of a fire escape so he didn’t get the smell on his ma’s curtains, “the one time I let you, you choked so hard I thought I’d killed you.”
“Yeah turns out asthma and cigarettes weren’t a great mix,” he agreed, “you tried to convince me you’d quit after that, but you just switched to smoking when I wasn’t around.”
“I didn’t think you knew.”
“You were never that great at subtle, Buck.”
Bucky took another drag, inhaling the burn until he felt like his lungs would burst from it. It was disgusting and painful and after he finally exhaled he did it again.
“She’s gonna be okay, you know,” Steve said, voice lowering as they watched the sun start creeping down towards the horizon, “they’re just being cautious.”
“Y’know she passed out on the way to medical?” He said to the sky, “just keeled right over, took both of them to get her in the medbay, I shoulda been there.”
“They’re just keeping her in isolation until they know everything’s okay,” Steve rested a hand on his shoulder, “it won’t be long now I’m sure.”
“Love the optimism,” he quoted her easily, exhaling a long plume of smoke and watching it curl up into the sky and disappear.
“Stop being so maudlin,” Steve chastised him, squeezing his shoulder once before turning away, “and go take a shower, you stink of cheap tobacco. Not exactly inspiring for when you see her next.”
Bucky shrugged the comment off, flicking his ashes to the ground as he heard the door open and shut behind him. He had a full two minutes with his own thoughts before Steve returned, making him groan as he glared at the horizon.
“What now Steve,” he asked tersely, “gonna lecture me about not using an ashtray, too?”
“I dunno what they told you in the forties,” a quiet voice that definitely didn’t belong to Steve said behind him, “but these days smokes are for jokes, babe.”
—-
By the time Darcy came back to her senses she wasn’t fully sure where she was or what day it was only that she was incredibly, incredibly tired. Gravity felt like it had been turned up to eleven as she was poked and prodded and poked again.
Blood was taken, and skin and hair and saliva and other bodily secretions she did not think needed studying that freaking badly. Lights were flashed in her eyes at regular intervals to make sure she could still see straight. She was fed plain food and given a drip of vitamins and her poop was stolen away in a little jar.
It. Was. Weird.
And tiring, did she mention that? How tired she was? Jane and Doc Harris had gone back and forth over it, engaging in a deep scientific conversation before they gave her their opinion.
Extended travel in the Darcy Dimension, they said, was tough on the body. If she’d been there for a few minutes, a few hours even, she likely wouldn’t have felt a thing, but more than two months out of sync with reality and well… the world was likely to be something of a shock to her.
If that wasn’t the understatement of the century Darcy didn’t know what was. When she wasn’t snoring her head off or being tested like a particularly plump lab rat she was touching everything. Running her fingers over the smooth cotton bed sheets and the glassy finish of the bedside table, she felt up the metal body of the lamp and it’s paper shade and rubbed her face against the cool tiles of the wall like a total weirdo.
Two months without feeling the texture of the world, without its smells and tastes and temperature, and she’d gone a little bit batty in the interim.
Batty and maybe just a tad codependent. It couldn’t have been more than two days but she missed Bucky something fierce already. She wasn’t allowed visitors and her phone was banned lest it interfere with their machines, leaving her stranded in post-dimensional quarantine with nothing to do but sleep and answer the same questions she’d answered when she was dead only louder now; and with more feeling.
By the time she was deemed safe to release back into her natural habitat she was getting ready to riot. Jane offered to walk her back to her apartment but she’d waved her off, Jane was still bright eyed with the science of it all and Darcy had no desire to hear her theories about the other dimension’s ability to put bodily functions into stasis for the next hour.
Safe in the knowledge she probably wasn’t about to suddenly keel over from the dimensional bends she had other priorities. Stepping carefully into the elevator, she took great pleasure in finally pressing the buttons herself as she selected the number for a floor that wasn’t hers.
“I’m sorry Ms Lewis,” the jaunty mechanical voice of Stark’s current AI said from the speaker above her, “you don’t have the required access to visit the selected floor. Please choose another.”
“What?” Darcy said, squinting hard at the ceiling, “I’ve been going up there for weeks, what’s the big idea?”
“I have no records of you accessing the Avengers Area, Ms Lewis,” the robot lady replied.
Right. Yeah. There wouldn’t be because she’d been technically dead and invisible and all…
“I see the problem,” Darcy sighed, “yeah so I’ve been kind of dead recently, it’s been a whole deal, but I really need to talk to someone up there so if you could just ask your boss man to bump up my credentials, that would be a real help.”
“You want me to go to Mr Stark about increasing your access due to your previous experience… haunting the tower?” She asked, Darcy hearing a digitally raised eyebrow in the tone.
“Yes, lady Hal, yes I do. Tell him Living Dead Girl wants to visit Robocop and Red White and Blue and she’ll cause a scene if she has to to get there. I’ve only been alive again for two days and I’m ready for some drama.”
The machine sighed at her, legitimately sighed, before saying, “Just a moment then please, Ms Lewis.”
Darcy didn’t know an AI could sound chagrined but she sure did. Darcy tapped her foot as she waited, pressing her back against the elevator wall as another wave of tiredness washed over her, stupid dimensional travel giving her jet lag.
“Alright Ms Lewis, your clearance has been approved,” the voice said at last, “for future reference your username is Casper and your passphrase is ‘boo.’ Robocop and Red White and Blue are currently on the landing deck, Mr Stark advises you be gentle with them during your reunion, they’re old and might break a hip. Have a nice day, now.”
“Rat bastard,” Darcy muttered, aiming a terse smile at the ceiling as the elevator rumbled to life, “Thank you disembodied voice lady, tell your boss he’s an asshole for me!”
“Consider it done.”
The elevator binged, doors opening at last only to reveal Steve walking straight towards her.
“Darcy?” He asked, stumbling back as he noticed her, a little wrinkle forming between his brows as he scanned her. Like he was trying to overlay her with the blue-tinted reflection from the SpaceTime screen, “is that you?”
“In the flesh,” she grinned, sticking out her hand, “nice to finally meet -meet you Steve.”
Batting her hand away he pulled her into a hug instead, all six foot something of prime American beef squeezing her like they’d been friends for years. She didn’t want to get weird already but he smelt delicious, like clean soap and manly body wash and America. She didn’t know if he’d ever been offered a cologne deal but he should definitely consider it.
“God, it’s good to see you,” he chuckled as he released her at last, “Buck’s been freaking out since he came back from the lab, guys a mess - annnnd… I shouldn’t have said that should I? Don’t tell him, would you?”
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as her heart did a double beat, squeezing with an unbearable warmth at the admission. She’d been worried about him too.
“Your secret is safe with me,” she promised, “you know I tried to convince Jane to let me have my phone in the medlab so I could text him but she said it would mess with the machines,” her gaze traveled past Steve to the dark silhouette outside the window, “wasn't until I was allowed out that I realized I don’t even have his number, funny huh?”
“I’ll get your number from Thor and text you Bucky’s, and mine of course,” he grinned, squeezing her arms with a smile she could absolutely believe could win a war, “you promised you’d help me set up Facebook, remember?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she grinned, his easy camaraderie warming her even as her eyes traveled back to the window, “but first I gotta talk to a guy about a thing.”
Steve followed her gaze, giving her arm one last gentle squeeze before he released her
“He’ll be pleased to see you,” he chuckled quietly, “go on, we’ll catch up later.”
Waving goodbye to him, Darcy snuck up to the heavy doors. Pulling it open as quietly as possible, she was struck again by his presence. He was hunching his shoulders again, the wind catching the ends of his hair as he took a long drag on a cigarette.
She didn’t even know that he smoked.
Nerves bubbled up inside her, a thousand overactive butterflies starting a rave in her stomach as she made her way out into the open air.
“What now, Steve,” Bucky groaned, not looking around as he flicked ash onto the floor, “gonna lecture me about not using an ashtray, too?”
“I dunno what they told you in the forties,” she said softly as she approached, feeling her voice catching stupidly in her throat as her bravado left her, “but these days smokes are for jokes, babe.”
He spun around so fast his hair hit him in the face, eyes almost comically wide as he gaped at her like she really was a ghost. The last of his cigarette was burning down unnoticed in his fingers.
“Hey, B,” she tugged at the ends of her hair self-consciously, “miss me?”
Maybe she should have taken the extra time to change into a better outfit from her apartment instead of throwing on whatever Jane had bought her. The burgundy skater dress was alright but the green cardigan clashed with it and there were a couple of holes in her leggings she’d never bothered to sew up. She could have sorted her face out too, she’d been in such a rush to see him she hadn’t done more than scrape a brush through her still-damp hair, slap on some eyeliner and lip balm and head straight for the stairs.
Shit, was it too late to go back and do this again?
“Darcy,” his voice cracked, baby blue eyes meeting hers and immediately making her forget all her insecurities, “Are you… are you here here?”
“God I hope so,” she said way too honestly before awkwardly opening her arms, “wanna find out?”
She expected him to laugh at her and shake his head, instead he flicked his cigarette clean off the side of the building and swept her up in his arms, spinning her around like something straight out of a movie.
“Bucky!” She gasped, dizzy from the sudden movement but unable to keep from laughing, “if you start a fire on Park Avenue I’m not taking the blame!”
“Let ‘em burn,” he growled, lips brushing her hair and making her heart yoyo wildly. The butterflies in her stomach now had glow sticks and whistles and copious amounts of MDMA, partying wildly as she clung onto his neck for support.
“Sweet talker,” she laughed, burying her face into his shoulder, he smelt like cheap cigarette smoke and bad choices but she inhaled him by the lungful anyway, committing everything about the moment to her memory.
She didn’t let go of him until her feet touched the floor again, blushing as she realized she was probably choking the poor guy.
“How are you?” He asked, not seeming to care as he ran his fingers along the sides of her face, peering down at her seriously, “how do you feel?”
The words ‘like I could burst from happiness and/or sexual desire right now’ sprung to her mind but she swapped them out for a less provocative truth.
“Still a bit shaky from the reentry,” she admitted, trying to remember how to breathe as he tucked her hair behind her ear in a move so effortlessly tender she thought she’d explode from it, “but very very happy to be alive.”
Her hands had ended up on his chest somehow, the worn black hoodie he was wearing soft beneath her palms. She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing the fabric beneath her fingers, feeling the solid weight of him underneath it, firm and warm.
“Good,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking in that lopsided smile of his as his hands came to rest on her shoulders, “I was worried about you, doll.”
God, she loved it when he called her that, it would’ve probably sounded hokey from anyone else but from him, in his voice with his smooth delivery? It was music to her. She couldn’t remember when he’d started it, only that she never wanted him to stop.
“Really?” She breathed, face flushing as her gaze stuck on that smile, fixated by the perfect arch of his lips and the dimple at the corner of his mouth. He was so warm and close and real, if she reached up on her tiptoes she could… they could…
“Lady Darcy!” The door rebounded off its hinges as a familiar boom of a voice filled the air, “I have just been informed of your release from the healers chambers!”
—-
Fuck. Shit. Damn.
There was no curse strong enough in any language Bucky knew to cover the surge of rage and disappointment he felt as Darcy was pulled away from him.
One moment he was lost in a fantasy, feeling the silken strands of her hair slipping through his fingers as he held her close. So goddamn close. Close enough he could feel her chest rise with each inhale, warmth seeping into him every place they touched as he cataloged the color of her eyes and the texture of her skin. The exact flush of pink in her cheeks and the way her mouth parted, lips full and flushed and…
And then she was swept away by another man, heavy-lidded eyes widening in surprise as she was spun away like a top and Bucky’s fingers flexed around the butt of a gun he didn’t carry anymore.
“Dear friend, I came as fast as I could,” Thor cried, blonde hair flowing in the breeze as he clamped her against his chest, “it is good to see you so flushed with life once more!”
“Breathe -” she squeaked out, making Bucky step forward automatically at the distress in her tone, “need to- breathe-”
“Apologies, my lady,” Thor laughed, looking sheepish as he set her carefully back on her feet before Bucky could force him too, “but truly, it is a miraculous day.”
He was right about that at least.
“No arguments here,” she replied even as her head turned, eyes darting back as if seeking his. She took a step towards him then faltered, blinking as she wobbled on her feet, “woah, head rush.”
He was next to her before Thor could move, slapping the space Viking’s hand away as he steadied her as gently as he could.
“Breathe, Darcy,” he instructed her, noting the sudden pallor of her face and feeling a familiar surge of panic well up within him, “do I need to call Jane?”
“N-no,” she said shakily, holding on to his arms as she took a long, steadying breath, “she’d just say I told you so. I’m not supposed to over exert myself, apparently prolonged dimensional travel is kind of a bitch.”
“Lady Darcy, my apologies again,” Thor interjected, Bucky’s teeth grinding as he was reminded of his presence, “I shall escort you back inside at once.”
“That’s okay, big guy,” she replied kindly before Bucky could tell him where to shove it, her hand slipping through his arm as she leant easily into his side, “I’ve already got an escort, right B?”
She looked up at him hopefully and his jaw unclenched all at once, leaving him swallowing awkwardly as he nodded at her, “sure do, doll.”
“But… ah, ah!” the space man looked between them with wide eyes before his entire face lit up, arms spread wide as he grinned, “in which case I shall surrender you to more capable hands, Lady Darcy, I shall go now and… check on Jane, yes, indeed.”
He gave them an exaggerated wink, chuckling to himself as he walked away. It took him a while but it seemed he had finally gotten the message that Darcy was off limits for his cult.
“Big lunk,” Darcy said, shaking her head fondly as she held onto him just a little tighter than her calm demeanor gave away, “they still air that Bigfoot hunting show on Fridays right?”
“Should start any minute,” he murmured, looking her over again as indecision tugged at him - knowing she needed rest but unwilling to let her go so soon after getting her back, “sure you don’t want to go down and rest first?”
“I can nap on your sofa as easily as mine,” she shrugged, “so long as you don’t mind the company?”
“Never could,” he promised, “never would.”
He could live another hundred years and never regret a single moment he spent with her.