Chapter Text
Darcy Lewis was not always this sad. Her friends and colleagues would tell you how upbeat, sarcastic and outgoing she had always been. She loved music and seemed to carry her iPod everywhere with her; she enjoyed making pop culture references; never missed out on an opportunity for sarcasm; and she always, always took care of the people she loved. Rarely, very rarely, did she mope, cry or feel lonely. She was just too lively, too happy… too strong.
Till the day she met Steve Rogers.
After the events of Puente Antiguo, Erik had been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. and Jane had been given free rein to continue her work with wormholes as long she shared with them all the information she had about the nine realms. In return, S.H.I.E.L.D. promised her resources and new tech if she wanted. Jane declined their tech, trusting the machinery she had assembled on her own rather than wasting time learning about their expensive modern tech. Three months later, followed by a suspicious phone conversation with a seemingly tired and unusually quiet Erik, a worried Jane – and by extension, Darcy – followed Erik to New York, reckoning it would be better if they were all in the same city. They packed their belongings and moved to a hole in Manhattan.
It didn’t take long to adjust in a new city. They had never stayed put in one place before, they had always moved around and Darcy had no hopes of sticking around this time either. She would bet her iPod that Jane would up and leave if anything more exciting and more significant came along somewhere else. But, for now, New York was their home and Darcy, as usual, was trying to make the most of it. Every day, she dutifully accompanied Jane to the makeshift lab they had created for the time being, did her data analysis, decoded Jane’s horrid handwriting, studied photographic evidence for anomalies, forced Jane to eat and nap in between all the science-ing, and, if she had time, she updated her blog and managed a visit or two to the nearby burger place.
Life was good. Normal, even. Well, as normal as it could be for someone who was involved with manic astrophysicists and Norse Gods.
It was by pure stroke of fate that Darcy met Steve. She was on her way to Starbucks for a brief coffee break when a man rushing in her direction crashed into her, sent her tumbling to the ground and didn’t even stop to apologize for his crappy behavior. Darcy sat up and looked after him, slightly dazed. Her shoulder hurt and she was pretty sure she had sprained her ankle but other than that, all her body parts were accounted for and she was alive.
Two faces popped into view. “Are you all right?”
Darcy shook herself, trying to clear her vision. A part of her just wanted to lie back down on the pavement till the pain and dizziness subsided; another saner part of her let the stranger help her up. Realizing that there was only one person, not two, Darcy grabbed onto his arms as he steadied her. Now that she could clearly make out his face, she saw his blue eyes and the concern in them.
“Did I fly through the air in slow motion and land a crumpled heap at your feet?” She tried to joke.
He guided her towards a gaudy coloured bench outside a women’s hair salon and gently pushed her down. “No ma’am,” he replied solemnly. “But if he had head butted you in the stomach, you would have definitely taken a brief flight.”
She stared up at him, holding back a grimace. Was he serious or was that an attempt at humor? Before she could say anything, he spoke up.
“Can you walk?”
“Errr… Dunno.” She grabbed a hold of his arm for support and tried to heave herself up. “Lemme try.”
The jet of pain shooting up her right leg caused her to release an anguished yelp and tears to fill her eyes. She blinked rapidly and, after a second or two, placed weight on her right foot gingerly. She could maybe walk, if she had a cane and if the lab was just around the corner. As it was, the lab was two blocks down the road and she didn’t have a cane to take her weight.
“I think,” she began but stopped immediately when she noticed her fingers digging into the skin of his forearms. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She released him and wobbled comically on the spot. He caught her and put her arm around his neck.
“Let me help.”
“No, you don’t have to! I can – I mean I’m sure I can – ”
“Ma’am,” he interrupted her. “I insist.”
Darcy looked up at him. He looked sincere enough and he wasn’t trying to touch her in any inappropriate places.
“Round the corner, 2nd intersection,” she told him. He nodded, wrapping a bulky arm around her waist and practically carrying her down the road.
Darcy looked down at the way the tips of her sandals occasionally brushed the ground and she felt awe. Who the hell was this guy? He looked like something her mind had conjured up – extremely tall, exceptionally bulky and unnaturally handsome. He looked straight ahead as he walked and seemed oddly steady in his pace, like he was trying not to make any sudden movements which could potentially hurt her. Darcy decided that she was enjoying this a little too much and that some conversation was in order.
“So…uh… you’re not a Norse God by any chance, are you?” she asked him.
He looked confused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Guess not,” she sighed. “Where are you from?”
“Brooklyn,” was the brusque response.
“Are you a boxer?”
“No.”
“A professional wrestler?”
“No.”
“A superhero?”
He faltered a little. Then, “Do you see me wearing a cape?”
Darcy thought back to Thor and his brilliant red cape that put to shame all of her fancy dresses. “Well, no,” she said, only slightly disappointed. “Maybe you’re hiding it in your superhero den.”
“Maybe.”
She smiled at the dryness in his tone. He didn’t smile back.
“You’re not a very chatty person, are you?” she guessed.
“I prefer the term ‘modest’,” he replied, making Darcy snort. She took a peek at him; he looked as serious as ever. It was weird how the humor in his voice did not translate into a smile – even a small one – yet he never once managed to sound rude in his taciturn modesty. “2nd intersection. Is this it?”
Darcy was surprised to see that they really had reached the lab. “That was fast,” she mused out loud.
He nodded and bent to put her down on her feet. “Think you can make it from here?”
“Yeah,” she said, leaning her weight on the building and pulling out her phone from her bag. “I’ll call my friend from inside. Thanks… a lot.”
“No problem, ma’am,” he intoned. “You take care.”
And without another word, he turned around and jogged away. Darcy stood there, staring after him like a fish out of water. Who the freaking hell was that guy?
Foot neatly wrapped in a bandage, Darcy sat in the lab nursing a mug of hot cocoa and reciting the bizarre story of her unsuccessful trip to Starbucks.
“So wait, you didn’t ask for his number?” Jane questioned after hearing the whole ordeal.
“He kinda fled after dropping me off,” explained Darcy. “Didn’t give me time to ask him anything!”
“Not even his name?” Jane prodded.
Darcy scowled at her. “I told you! He wasn’t very chatty, definitely didn’t seem to want to have any kind of conversation with any human really, let alone wittle me.”
Jane nodded and checked the computer again for data update. “What did he look like?” she asked absently.
Darcy immediately perked up. This was one question she had a good answer to. Her savior dude had been so blindingly handsome, even a blind person would be able to answer Jane’s question. No wait, that wasn’t a proper analogy. Oh well, it made sense in her head. “Oh Jane,” Darcy gushed. “He looked like a scoop of spicy Mexican chocolate ice cream sitting on a smooth buttery pancake.”
Jane looked up from the computer and blinked in confusion. “What did I ask you?”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “He looked totally edible. He had a jaw that could cut glass. No seriously,” she insisted when Jane snorted loudly. “A body that could rival Thor’s and big sad eyes that could drown you in their very depths.”
“How poetic,” muttered Jane.
Ignoring her, Darcy continued, “And he was tall. Like, really tall,” she paused. “Unbelievably tall, probably Thor’s height…or maybe taller.” Another pause. “No wait, no one’s taller than Thor. Thor is – ”
“All right, I get it. Stop saying the darned name!” wailed Jane and Darcy shut up immediately. She threw the scientist an apologetic look which went unseen and took a sip of her hot cocoa.
For the next few minutes, Darcy watched silently as Jane worked, her mind blissfully blank. Then Jane asked –
“Think you’ll see him again?”
“With my luck, I don’t think so. But I sure hope I do.”
A week later, Darcy found herself hurrying down an unfamiliar street, a six pack in one hand and a tub of ice cream in another. Jane was having a breakdown after encountering a major failure in the labs. Let’s just say their scheme of tearing a hole in the universe to bring Thor back had been significantly delayed. Darcy had taken it upon herself to cheer up the distraught scientist, who, in her obsession induced misery, had forgotten that come midnight, her only friend and intern would be a year older.
It was five minutes to midnight and Darcy was debating whether she should get a cupcake or not when someone tackled her from behind and pushed her against the wall roughly. The sudden jerk caused the beer to fall from her hand and a shriek to erupt from her lips.
“Scream again and I will slice your throat in two,” came a low harsh voice.
Darcy squinted in the darkness at her attacker’s face. He was bigger and stronger than her but didn’t look a day older than twenty, and he was holding a gun to her chest. “How?” she rasped, while her free hand frantically searched her bag for her taser.
“How what?” he growled. “Gimme your fucking money, lady!”
Where was the taser when she needed it? “I mean, how will you slice my throat? You don’t have a knife, you have a gun. It just doesn’t make sense, you know,” explained Darcy. Damn it all to hell, she had forgotten her taser at the lab! There was no point trying to stall him anymore. She couldn’t do anything without her taser. Could she?
“I mean,” she continued, hoping an idea would pop into her head and save her from this psycho. “A gunshot won’t slice my throat in two. I think the expression you’re looking for is, blowing a hole in my throat, or something like that. Get it?”
The hand on her throat tightened and he smashed her head back into the wall. “Stop talking shit and give me your money, or,” he paused to leer and Darcy visibly gulped, “I’ll blow a hole in your throat.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A new, slightly familiar voice emerged from the darkness. Momentarily distracted, her assailant looked up (yes, that’s where the voice had come from – up) and without thinking, Darcy brought her knee up, slamming it forcefully into his crotch. He yelped out loud and released his hold on her.
“Bitch!”
She punched him in the head with the tub of ice cream she was carrying and he fell down and remained there.
“Damn right!” she shouted hoarsely, ice cream dropping from her hand. A figure dropped out of the sky as she took a few unsteady steps back, bending to rest her hands on her knees and panting heavily.
“You took him out.” Darcy paid no attention to the surprise in his voice. She was too busy staring at her unconscious attacker and trying to control her racing heartbeats. After a minute or two, she took a deep hitching breath and straightened up.
“Who are you?” were the first words out of her mouth when she finally caught sight of the stranger standing in front of her, warily watching her every move.
“I…uh… heard you scream,” he said in response, and Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. That didn’t answer her question, did it?
“Why are you wearing a mask?” It wasn’t technically a mask. It was a balaclava which covered his entire face except for the eyes. She realized that he had probably come to save her, but dude, he looked like a crook himself, covered in that suspicious blue balaclava and an American flag printed t-shirt.
When he didn’t reply, she eyed the tub of ice cream on the ground, her only weapon at that moment in time. Maybe it would be just as useful a second time. He followed her gaze and Darcy knew the exact moment he understood her intentions, because his eyes went wide and he held up both his heads in a peace gesture.
“Just here to help,” his voice was steady and damn it why couldn’t she place a face to that familiar voice?
“Yeah well, thanks but sorry to ruin your thunder, dude. I think I handled things quite well while you creepily watched from above. What were you doing in the sky anyway? Are you Spider Man?”
“I wasn’t in the sk – never mind. I’ll be off now, ma’am. You take care.”
Ma’am.
“Ma’am,” whispered Darcy, realization dawning. “Hey!” She ran after him, following him deeper into a dark alley. He didn’t stop, in fact, her voice made him run faster. “Hey, wait up,” she panted. He was up ahead, bent into a crouch, looking for all the world like he was rearing up for a big leap. Darcy quickened her pace because she had no idea how it was possible, but somehow realized that he was going to scale that dead end right before them and if she didn’t stop him, she might never get to see him again.
Just as he was about to make his leap, she leapt on him, which, Darcy later decided, had not been a very good idea. He lost his balance and down they went, him falling face first on the road and she on top of him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chanted, crawling off his body and trying to look concerned when he groaned loudly. She would be truly concerned about him had he not jumped down from the freaking sky!
He sat up and stared at her in disbelief. “Are you crazy?” he asked her.
“Okay, so I get that you’re angry,” muttered Darcy, watching as he yanked off his balaclava.
“Dang right I am.” He was rubbing his chest, his face contorted in pain.
“Are you hurt?”
He shot her an incredulous look and Darcy immediately backed off. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I was just trying to say thank you.”
“By attacking me from behind?”
“No! I mean, well, I never said I have the best of ideas…” She paused when he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose like she was giving him a headache. “But,” she continued stubbornly, “You helped me that day and tried to save me today as well.” He was looking at her now. “Even though you didn’t really do anything except startle him from the nest you were perched in and I basically did the rest… but still – hey, where are you going?”
He was getting up and dusting himself off. He did not look inclined to reply to her question.
“I was trying to say thank you,” Darcy muttered indignantly. “And it’s my birthday. Show some courtesy, will you?”
He stopped and looked down at her. “Happy birthday,” he sighed, offering her a hand to help her up.
Darcy beamed. “Wanna celebrate with me?” she asked boldly. Jane be damned, this guy was cute.
“I’d rather not,” he said.
“Why are you running around in a mask?” she asked, curiosity finally getting the best of her. Had he disillusioned himself into thinking he was Zorro or something?
He suddenly looked sheepish as he massaged his neck and refused to meet her eyes. “Uh…I was looking for trouble,” he mumbled. “Trying to get back in the game.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What game?” Then, “What are you?”
He shot her a look and Darcy wondered if he would even deign her rude question with an answer but then he looked like he was contemplating something and she’d be damned if he said she was right and he really was Spider Man.
“Captain America at your service,” he said and Darcy stared at him bemused. What?
“Who?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
He did not reply immediately. Instead, he watched her thoughtfully and Darcy was beginning to think that maybe she had missed something big. The way he had said it felt like he had just revealed a dark secret to her. Was he a military captain? He certainly looked like one, straight-spined and muscle-y that he was.
“Never mind,” he interrupted her thoughts and said, “I’m Steve.”
He wasn’t smiling but he had told her his name and he wasn’t running away from her like she was the plague. Darcy couldn’t be happier. “Hi, I’m Darcy,” she said. “If you don’t wanna hang out, may I at least walk you to your place?” Well, a woman has to take a chance sometimes, right?
He pursed his lips like he disliked the idea but nodded anyway. Beaming, Darcy promptly stepped closer and pushed her fingers into the crook of his elbow, tugging slightly, urging him to walk. He seemed a little surprised by her forwardness but didn’t mention it. Darcy kept up a constant chatter as they walked while Steve was mostly silent. He would nod sometimes but Darcy realized that he wasn’t really paying attention to her, that his mind was somewhere else entirely. She cracked silly jokes and turned her sarcasm up a few notches to cheer him up but she could see that Steve was really and truly sad from the inside. Nothing she could say or do would change that, at least not yet. Something must have happened to make him that way.
“This is me,” he said suddenly and Darcy looked in surprise at the despondent looking apartment house he was pointing at.
“You live here?” She couldn’t hide the disgust in her voice.
He frowned and informed her, rather stubbornly, “I like it. I chose it.”
“Okay,” she nodded.
Any hope that he would invite her in was dashed when he said, “You should go.”
“You’re awfully blunt, aren’t you?” Darcy told him, tamping down her disappointment.
“So are you,” he said, his tone cautious. It made her laugh. He was right, Darcy had no filter. “You should go,” he repeated, this time more forcefully. “It’s late.”
Darcy checked the time. It really was late. Jane must be worried. She had been gone too long. “See you, I guess,” she said, turning away. “Thanks again.”
He nodded and without another word, jogged up the steps to his house. Darcy sighed. He wouldn’t look twice at her. Then why did she want to be his friend? Why did she want to be the one to make him smile? Why was she hoping that she would get to see him again and soon?
Now that she knew where he lived, in the coming days, Jane had to physically stop Darcy from lurking around Steve’s house like a creep. She had no idea why her intern was acting like a clingy non-girlfriend. Darcy, for her part, was feeling very out of character. Never in her twenty-four years had she ever had the urge to strike a friendship with someone and spend time with them so badly. Except maybe with Jane and Erik. Jane, because she was tiny, intelligent and would die of starvation if not for Darcy’s care, and Erik, because he was crazy, smart and seemed to like Darcy for things other than her glorious chest, which was a pleasant change from most men of the 21st century. Steve, however, was different. What was so special about him that drew her to him? She tried to explain it to Jane once.
“He never smiles, Jane. Never.”
“Gee, Darcy. He sounds like a friendly guy.”
Needless to say, Darcy sucked at the explaining part. She wanted to tell Jane about the way his blue eyes flitted around in focused attention when they were in public, almost as if expecting someone to jump out and attack him; the way his mouth thinned into a line whenever she cracked a joke; the way he unintentionally ignored her because he was too pre-occupied with his own thoughts; and most of all, she wanted Jane to understand how defeated Steve had looked when she had met him, how grim, how helpless, as if he had already given up on life, on people. He was mysterious, yes, especially when he did things like drop out of the sky and hid his face with a balaclava but Darcy could somehow see the resignation behind the enigma that was Steve.
She wanted to explain all that and more to Jane but how could she, when Darcy herself had no idea how she felt so connected to him. They were poles apart. Darcy was, as Erik had fondly said once, a wise cracking little shit, while Steve was as straight-laced as they came. Darcy liked to laugh, while Steve looked like he could barely stomach a good joke, let alone a bad one. And yet, Darcy wanted to know him.
“You just want to know his secret, about why he’s sad and stuff,” said Jane, urgently scribbling equations into a paper napkin, and Darcy wondered if that was true. If she had an ulterior motive, if she would be satisfied once she came to know what Steve had been through to make himself like this.
She decided she didn’t care. Ulterior motive or not, Steve had helped her twice and that was enough to deserve her friendship.
More than a month passed this way and Darcy had become better at controlling her stalker tendencies. She had taken to meditating in the park every morning. Jane said meditation helped with concentration but in all truth, Darcy just lay there in the grass, listening to songs and occasionally ogling Stark Tower, wondering if she would ever catch a glimpse of Iron Man flying out. In her wildest daydreams, Iron Man sometimes rained money from the sky as he zoomed past, revealing a generous side of him the public had rarely seen.
While that never happened, something just as wonderful happened. Steve ran past her. Darcy was leaning back against a tree trunk, her feet spread out before her on the cool grass, her iPod phones plugged into her ears, and her eyes gliding about aimlessly, seeing nothing in particular. She did not notice him at first but when he circled around for the second time, both of them saw each other at approximately the same time. Darcy was so astonished that she just stared at him as he came to a stop and regarded her curiously, as if trying to remember why she looked familiar.
She had never thought she would meet him again unless she initiated the meeting by standing outside his apartment. So it was a pleasant – very pleasant – surprise seeing him there in the park, in his tight workout t-shirt and blonde hair flopping adorably over his forehead. She waved at him frantically, leaving him no choice but to come over and say hi. Darcy stood to face him.
“I’m Darcy, do you remember me?” she asked him, feeling a little hurt that he had forgotten her already.
He cocked his head, looking unsure.
“I called you Spider Man and walked you home?” she tried hopefully. “You jumped down from the sky to save me?”
His expression cleared and he immediately pursed his lips. Darcy grinned. Yep, he had definitely recognized her.
“I wasn’t in the sky,” he insisted, but it was half-hearted, as if he knew Darcy wouldn’t believe him, even if her silly assumptions defied logic.
“If you say so,” she said, trying hard to tamp down the happiness she felt at seeing him there. She gave him a subtle once over. He was as huge as ever and he was sweating like a pig. He looked okay, she decided. She resisted the urge to hug him.
“So how are you?” she asked him.
“Alive,” he said, then blinked as if he hadn’t meant to say that at all. She would have thought he was making a joke but the decided bitterness in his voice gave her a pause.
“And that’s a bad thing?” Darcy asked tentatively.
He looked away and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Sorry. I’m… I’m fine,” he said to the tree behind her. And judging by the way his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes lowered, Darcy realized he was feeling ashamed of himself. Something heavy settled in her stomach as she watched him, first signs of a sadness she had rarely ever felt before. She gulped and opened her mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was what she was feeling for him –
“Sorry.”
His eyes found her again and he held her gaze before firmly saying, “Don’t be.”
Darcy nodded and they lapsed into an awkward silence. Steve looked so uncomfortable and out of his element standing there that Darcy worried he would make some excuse and run away, something that she didn’t want him to do. She would not risk losing him again at least without his phone number or some kind of guarantee that they would meet again.
“Do you want to meditate with me?” she blurted out unthinkingly. He looked a bit startled by her offer but nodded – rather uncertainly – when she said, “Meditation helps with concentration.” Or something.
They sat down cross-legged, facing each other. “Now close your eyes and breathe deeply,” Darcy said, “Try to ignore your surroundings and the sounds of nature.” In all truth, she had no idea how to meditate, so she told him to do what she felt was the correct way to meditate.
“I know how it works,” Steve said and Darcy thought she saw his lips twitch. She was torn between feeling victorious and feeling insulted. For his sake and for hers, she chose the latter.
“Just close your eyes, dummy,” she huffed. He kept watching her until she rolled her eyes and then closed them. “Happy?” she asked and when he didn’t reply, she peeked an eye open to see that his eyes were closed and he had already started meditating without her. She studied him for a bit, taking in the slight dark circles under his eyes, the long blonde lashes that fanned his cheeks and his full lips that, for once, weren’t pursed into a thin line. Not for the first time, she wondered about his family and friends, about why he always seemed so alone and about her idea of being the one who would bring a smile to his face.
As it turned out, Steve was the one to steal the smiles from her face.