Chapter Text
Darcy knew she’d made a big mistake before she opened her eyes. Her head was pounding, her mouth tasted disgusting, and last night was a fuzzy blur. Also, the dip in the mattress indicated that whoever she’d picked up last night was still here. Dammit. She’d promised herself she would not go sleeping around, wouldn’t repeat her mom’s mistakes. Not that Amelia Lewis did that anymore. At the first little plus on the pregnancy test she’d cleaned up her act, quit her showgirl job, and gotten the hell out of Vegas. Darcy had grown up with a hard-working mom, doting grandparents, and absolutely no idea who her father was.
Resisting the urge to take a peek at the man beside her, Darcy reached for her phone and flipped it over to check the time. Dammit again. There were 3 missed calls, all from her mom. Worse, she was going to miss her flight home if she didn’t get a move on now.
The room was thankfully gloomy as she slid out of bed and collected her things from around the room, so much so that she couldn’t make much out about the guy on the bed. It didn’t help that he slept facedown in his pillow. If it weren’t for the loud, steady breaths just this side of snoring, she would’ve been scared he’d suffocated in his sleep. Nonetheless, she could tell he would dwarf her petite frame, and from the way light from a crack in the curtains gleamed off the dark skin of his head, he was also bald. Huh. She always liked bald guys- Darcy shook herself awake, grateful her bag had been mostly packed before her last big night out. Pulling her sweater over her head, she slipped out the door. She felt a little bad leaving without so much as a by-your-leave, but she really had to catch that plane. The one-day deal was all she could afford- if she missed this flight, she’d have to take a bus and she had no desire to be stuck on the wrong side of the country when exams started tomorrow.
Juggling purse, phone, coat, and duffel bag in a madcap race to the airport, it wasn’t until she was stashing her bag in the overhead locker that she noticed the ring. Oh no.
Nick Fury rarely drank. It would not do for his agents to discover his surprisingly low tolerance for alcohol. Last night though... He remembered the casino meeting going south, remembered ordering all SHIELD agents to go dark for the night and make their way back to HQ separately, remembered ducking into a small club and buying a drink for a pretty brunette. Beyond that, a black hole. They had presumably gone back to her hotel: the perfect untraceable accommodation, just as training advised. From the bottles surrounding the bed, it appeared they had raided the minibar. The girl had already left, perhaps already regretting whatever had happened last night. He would get her name from reception; maybe send her a gift basket.
It would depend if she had left him to pay the tab.
Fury got dressed, methodically listing the heads that would roll from last night’s debacle, steadfastly ignoring the nagging feeling that he was missing something.
Darcy stared at the ring on her finger. It was slim, gold, and obviously masculine. Inside it was etched Class of ’85. Whoa. An older guy then.
She sat there staring at her finger through the safety briefing, sifting through the fog that was masquerading as her memory. His name was Nick, she remembered, and he did work for the government. By the time they were at cruising altitude, she’d remembered his voice. Try as she might, everything else, face included, remained a blank. By the time they plane began to descend, she had decided to forget the whole thing. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right? She slipped the band off her finger and slipped it into her pocket.
Mikayla Smith, SHIELD agent in charge of cover identities, looked down at the items on her desk and sighed. Director Fury was always so hard on his covers. The passport had been soaked with something and was now glued shut, the driver’s license was somehow melted, the tinted glasses were cracked, and she was pretty sure that there had been a class ring that he’d managed to lose. She didn’t bother checking federal records; he’d probably managed to get arrested. No matter. She marked the cover as unavailable in SHIELD records and sent the evidence to Disposal for incineration.
No sooner had Darcy turned her phone on than her mother called. Again. Feeling vaguely guilty, she picked up.
“Darcy! Thank goodness, I was so worried! Where have you been?”
“Uh... studying, mom” she lied. No need to admit she had blown next month’s rent on a fruitless quest to find her father. “Exams start tomorrow and I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
Her mom laughed, accepting the explanation at face value. “Always so easily distracted! Sorry for the panic. But darling, we need to talk.”
Darcy’s gut clenched. “The fund?”
Amelia sighed. “It’s pretty much empty. It can pay for your tuition, or your living expenses, but not both. Honey, I’m sorry. Maybe it’d be better if you just came home...”
“Mom! I have one semester left, all I need is some last science credits. Are you sure the payment’s not just late?”
“It’s been years. I’ve tried calling, writing, but obviously your father feels that your college education is simply beneath his notice.”
“Maybe if you told me who he was-“
“No. Darcy, we’ve had this conversation. Your college fund was all the involvement he’s had, all the involvement he wanted. Perhaps you could get a job?”
Darcy was about to tell her mother just how hard part-time jobs were to find, how little they paid, but she had the feeling Amelia already knew. Suddenly inspiration struck. “Mom, that’s brilliant! I’ll have to apply now though, internships with credits attached go pretty quickly...” Still muttering to herself, she ended the call and booted up her laptop.
Three weeks later, she was on a bus to New Mexico.