Chapter Text
It’s all very bizarre to be sitting in the centre of what is, inarguably, a séance.
‘I think we should all take a moment, to consider, the consequences,’ Natasha says to their little assembled cohort, lit in a flickering light that makes the sharp angles of her face look deadly.
‘You scared of an itty bitty ghosty?’
Darcy stares at Clint who continually surprises her with how little notice his mouth gives his brain of output and how clearly it disregards obvious threats in his immediate vicinity.
Bobbi rolls her eyes, ‘fairly sure the least of your worries are the spirits that might come to wreck havoc on your life.’
‘But guys, we’re summoning ghosts,’ he whines, displeased they’re ruining his fun.
‘No, this was going to be an intervention and then you pulled out a Ouija board,’ Kate reminds him, from where she’s seated next to Bobbi.
Clint groans, ‘well we weren’t getting anywhere, were we?’
‘If you shut up for like 2.5 seconds-’ Bobbi mutters.
‘Will I piss off the ghost?’
‘Did you eat more or less sugar than normal,’ Nat says.
‘I did have a-’ Clint gets cut off.
‘Guys,-’
‘You’re awful chatty-’
‘Hey, look!’ Kate chirps, pointing behind Darcy. Darcy turns briefly before her hand gets pulled roughly to the other side of the board and she clicks her teeth at Clint.
‘I can’t decide if its pulling me towards the left or right.’
‘That’s because this is all elaborate bullshit,’ Bobbi says, dryly.
‘Pretty sure that means left,’ he snickers, ‘J? A? N?’
‘Isnt that a W?’
‘J, W makes even less sense than J, A.’
‘Because this is all real,’ Darcy drawls.
‘Guys!’
‘Don’t get your knickers-’ he says at Nat’s yell.
‘Jane!’
Clint claps happily. ‘This shit works!’
Bobbi slaps his hand away from hers as he gestures impressed at the board. ‘You’re a lunatic.’
‘Did Tony come get you?’ Kate interrupts, scooching over for her to sit.
Jane nods. ‘He didn’t say anything about a séance.’
‘Just setting a mood,’ Clint says happily.
‘You and Thor are ‘hububbing,’ Darcy pulls Jane down next to her, ‘and it’s because of me?’
‘You?’ Jane says and looks back at the circle.
‘Well sort of,’ Kate says, shrugging. ‘We didn’t tell her the whole truth.’
Darcy’s eyes snap to Nat who looks impassively back at her and then to Jane who looks guilty. Darcy knows a pressure point when she sees one.
‘So when you said intervention,’ she says, scowling at Kate, ‘you meant mine.’
Kate, unrepentant, says, ‘what would we possibly have to criticize Jane for? She has a double doctorate and a boyfriend that looks like a Calvin Klein model.’
Jane blushes beside her and looks at Darcy sadly, ‘my bad.’
‘Did you and Thor even have an argument about me?’
Jane frowns, ‘yes- but,’ at Darcy’s gasp she holds up a hand and looks consolatory, ‘it wasn’t what you’re thinking.’
‘What was I thinking?” Darcy asks sarcastically.
‘Thor wanted to speak to the counsellor about you and I.. thought that should be your decision.’
It is understandable, if you’ve never been in a situation where your entire group of friends (sans the ones that were either not brave enough or knew better than to attend) look at you with the piteous frown-y faces of an adult letting a child know they will not be getting the toy they want for Christmas how to react. But when they do, when every single one of the five pairs of eyes currently trained on her, stares her down with the obvious ‘you need help’ face it feels much like being attacked. Hostile situations call for one of two responses: fight or flight.
Darcy considered the former for a second – she knew logicially that all the angry barbs she wanted to yell at them were dampened by the fact that her throat was gulping down all the angry, bitter embarrassment at her friends staging an intervention because she was a nutcase and while she was normally always raging for a verbal spar, her legs did what her throat could not and sent her flailing towards the door, tripping over Jane’s bag in the dim light of the fucking séance and out of Tony’s dorm room faster than even Nat could get up and come chase her down.
She does two things as she runs up the hill away from Tony’s dorm: she turns off her location services and then calls Sam.
Considering she called to tell him she’d stop by, he looks more surprised than he ought to.
As the betrayal had extended to some of the extended circle, Darcy had to wonder if Sam had been involved – or knew and just hadn’t had the political pull to stamp out the plot before it got off the ground. Except.. it wasn’t like Sam. It was also the opposite of helpful and surely, surely they covered those kinds of things in ‘How to Psychology 101’.
‘All this time without a house call. Finally!’ he grins and steps aside to let her in. His housemate, Lance, gives her a cheeky wink and tells Sam that he definitely won’t be home for dinner. She forgets to berate him about his choice in women before he’s slipped past her and down the stairs.
‘C’mon in. Soda?’
‘Sure,’ she says and slips down onto the couch.
‘Do you guys ever clean this thing?’
‘Let me know if you find a phone. I lost one down there.’
‘Your dignity too. You and Lance are disgusting.’
‘We like to ensure authenticity to the campus lifestyle.’
‘Is that what this is?’ Darcy asks, laughing. ‘I’ve been doing it all wrong.’
‘It’s not just energy drinks and overdue essays,’ Sam tells her in mock horror.
‘It’s too late to do anything about it now,’ she says, sadly, ‘it’s almost over.’
‘The real world is mostly energy drinks and overdue assignments anyway. You can start anytime.’
She grins and takes the proffered soda from him as he takes a seat beside her on the couch.
‘So, house visit. What happened?’
Darcy clicks open the can, ‘that’s annoying that you do that.’
‘Make educated guesses?’
‘No.. yes. Yes. It’s annoying.’
‘Really? I thought it’d be comforting. Kind of cuts the crap.’
‘Some people enjoy the soft buffering of crap.’
‘You’re deflecting.’
‘Sure am, Einstein.’
He chinks their cans together and tilts his head to one side, waiting.
‘You weren’t party to any ‘Darcy-intervention’ plan were you?’
‘Did they try to get you to join the gym again?’
Darcy rolls her eyes, ‘no one would be that stupid. No. So you didn’t know?’
Sam frowns, a little concerned, ‘what was the intervention about?’
‘Me,’ she says and when he lifts an eyebrow in confusion, she elaborates. ‘More specifically, my brain.’
The surprise on his brows shows no guilt and Darcy can’t help but sigh a little. Relief.
‘It was a bit of an ambush,’ she explains, ‘or a lot of an ambush. There was quite a set up.’
‘That’s not ideal,’ Sam says, quietly.
‘You don’t say.’
‘I’m disappointed they-’ he stops and then rolls his eyes, ‘no, actually, I’m not surprised.’
‘It’s bullshit,’ she says, archly. ‘I’m a functioning adult. I can look after my own shit.’
Sam frowns at her, ‘Darcy.. while their methods might not have an ounce of credibility.. it’s not like everyone hasn’t noticed you have been.. dislocated.’
‘I’ve been dislocated?’ she spits and gapes at him, ‘me?! Me, who organizes every single get together. Who texts all you idiots so that we can actually see each other? Me, who is literally the only one that cares? I’m dislocated? What the fuck? That’s such a cop out.’
‘The cop out,’ Sam says, remaining frustratingly quiet, ‘is that you are not looking after yourself.’
‘Not looking after myself?’ Darcy growls. ‘I am literally trying. What the fuck do you think I’m doing?’
‘Sleeping the depression away is not fixing the problem.’
‘Oh fuck, come on Sam. Surely they covered this – it’s not like I can go take a fucking walk and fix my fucking brain.’
‘That’s not what I said-‘
‘No, because it is. Because none of you actually get it. Because a fucking intervention was a plausible method of fixing me as if a little dash of compassion and a pinch of counselling can fix the chemical imbalance in my fucking brain. But gosh, thank you all for your educated and well-intentioned opinions. If only I fixed my mindset, meditated a little I’d be fine and fucking dandy.’
‘We – them and me, we are all here, all trying to help you.’
‘Oh please. I do not think my mental health is anything but an interesting dramatic event. None of you are even going to remember I existed after we all graduate.’
Sam looks at her aghast, ‘that’s bullshit!’
Darcy rolls her eyes, ‘no, Sam, I think, for once, if you just pulled your head out of your arrogant-’
‘No one’s going to leave you!’ he yells and then looks angrier, as if the effort to scream was more than he bargained for.
‘I don’t-’
He cuts her off with such a disdainful look that she falters and spits, ‘right, yeah, because your three year psychology degree makes you a fucking master at other people. Any idea when you were doing to tell Carol that--?’
His entire face looks set to implode, his cheeks a ruddy brown.
‘Once you go there, you don’t go back. So fuck you, ok? Fuck you. You don’t know everything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m trying to help there’s no need to stick a knife in it.’
Darcy just glares at him, ‘I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough. Stop telling me you all know better or whatever the fuck. As if anyone knows how I feel. Fuck.’
‘We literally all gave you space or the option to talk to us but you’re set on being the victim,’ he says, angrily.
He spits it out and she feels the anger like actual pain under her skin, feels the burning resentment at herself and her brain and every single day this past semester that she’s buried under a fortress of her own anxieties. But it’s not enough in this moment to beg humility and save face because it is too much angry. It is everywhere. At herself for the misunderstanding with Steve, the late assessments, how many friends she’s let down. It all sticks, heavy like glue to her and she’s furious and when it comes out, it is ugly and accusatory and she can’t even stop herself.
‘Oh yeah? And spending three years pining after Danvers and then moaning every time she got into a relationship, that’s not playing the victim?’
Sam flushes and she feels the icy blast of air conditioned air move past all the parts of her that are sheened in sweat, embarrassment leaking into all the pockets of air that were once brimming with her anger.
‘That’s real nice,’ he says, quietly and then points to the door. ‘If you’re so smart, you know the way.’
Any progress made in that week dissipates by the time she drags herself back to her dorm room. The essay she was working on gets submitted without references and no other deadlines, Darcy crawls into bed. But there is no merciful pull toward sleep. Her mind stubbornly refuses to settle, preferring to relive the moment Sam looked at her, horror and surprise and disgust and disappointment all over his face, glancing back just once to shake his head and then go to his bedroom. And then she watches the film in slow motion, backwards and forwards. It is painful, the moment just as he turns back to look at her, surprised that she would stoop that low makes her bones ache, her spine twitch angrily and her brow crinkle tightly.
It is afternoon and she does not know the day of the week but she is still relatively sure that it is a weekday when someone knocks. It takes a while to get out of bed, a little longer to open the blinds and realise that there is indeed someone knocking, and not just barging in.
Barnes grimaces at her, his lips curling over the rim of two coffees and a dozen doughnuts.
‘You take a real long time to go get a rubber, you know that?
She huffs and pushes open the door to let him in. She watches him hesitate for all of half a moment, before he bounces on his feels and moves inside.
‘I didn’t know,’ he starts, quietly, setting down his offerings on the desk and giving her a small shrug, ‘Sucks, doll, I’m sorry they sprung you like that.’
She perches on the desk and eyes Nat’s unslept bed. ‘Yeah, I –uh, I took it the wrong way.’
‘I think running outta there was probably what I would’ve done.’
‘I really haven’t been making the smartest-’
‘Hey,’ he starts quietly and pushes the warm Styrofoam into her palm, ‘still don’t think it was an ideal form of therapy.’
Darcy shrugs, taking a sip, ‘ooh, who told you?’ she mumbles, gesturing to the cup.
‘Steve,’ Bucky winces, ‘information in exchange for information.’
‘He wanted to know how I was,’ she says with a half smile.
‘Somethin’ like that.’
Darcy nods, ‘how’d you manage to keep everyone away?’
‘Cap had a word with them last night.’
Darcy traces her finger around the rim of the cup, ‘oh.’
‘Everyone is embarrassed.’
‘Kate is capable of embarrassment?’
Barnes grins at her, ‘somethin’ like it.’
‘I feel so stupid,’ she says, quietly and then sighs, ‘they were trying to help but it just felt like such a… betrayal.’
He nods and the silence is warm, without judgement. So she continues, ‘I feel like I’m running from it, but it’s always there.’
‘The.. this.. dep..’
‘Whatever you want to call it,’ Darcy finishes for him, ‘yes.’
‘So. It’s there. It’s not helping you and.. I’m gonna go ahead and say this and I want you to know I’m not trying to hurt you but you’re also not helping you.’
She sucks in a breath, watches the purple light from the sunset come through. Her bed has a shadow of sweat and dirt from her. The room is stale. A soft ping comes through the door from someone’s text conversation in the corridor.
He hands her the bag of donuts and pulls a birthday card out of his pocket that had clearly been drawn by Steve, Happy Birthday Bobbi in gilded scroll.
‘It’s your call, Darcy.’
Bucky slumps on Nat’s bed after he coaxes her into the shower. She takes the time to run her fingers through her hair, massages the conditioner into the ends and tries to focus on that. The methodology. The ritual. She’s done this a hundred, a thousand times before and yet her hands feel like it is all anew, like they themselves feel like a new part of her. There and not there. Slightly a part from her body. As if they are from someone else, as if she is not a part of herself. As if the parts of her are just borrowed, occasionally and not even then, does she feel whole.
The whole sensation of feeling is overwhelming and she lets the water dull it all. Quietly, slowly it all dissipates and she’s left with the numbness again.
‘We should go, right,’ Darcy says, sitting in her underwear, feet hanging off the bed with her head in Bucky’s lap.
‘Wet hair sure but clothing optional wasn’t on the e-vite.’
‘Who says e-vite’ Darcy says looking up at him, ‘it was a facebook event and I don’t think Bobbi cares about what we wear as long as there’s a bar tab.’
He chuckles and then gently pushes her into a seating position.
‘Let’s go.’
The thing about birthdays is that they are almost inevitably better for everyone except the person for whom they are for. At least where her group of friends was concerned. There was Clints’ 21st where he broke his arm after a keg exploded, Thor’s 30th where they’d all forgotten he was very allergic to crab and then there was the absolute travesty of a joint 20th when Wanda almost got expelled, wrongly accused for Tony's explosion in the chem lab. The injustice nor the inexplicability of the faculty blaming Wanda of all people made no sense. But then again, it made as much sense as holding a 20th birthday inside the labs. Or anything Tony did.
But this? It seemed at least Lance’s mission, to ensure that none of the usual crap happened. By the looks on Tony and Clint’s faces, it seemed he had made this point very clear. Their favourite pizza joint slash bar after 10 had set up a long banquet table for them.
‘It’s hardly a party if we can’t have fun.’
‘Why does your fun always include explosions or alcohol poisoning,’ Darcy muttered to Clint.
He pouted. ‘What, no explosions too?’ he nudged Nat, ‘what else do I have?’
‘Conversation,’ Pepper intoned, ‘Celebration? Enjoyment? Dancing?’
‘Is any of that computing,’ Nat smirked.
‘I have no idea how any of those are possible without copious amounts of alcohol and or explosions,' Clint muttered under his breath, shooting Lance a furtive glance.
To her other side, Thor and Jane were sitting across the table looking contrite and trying in futility to get out of a conversation with Wanda about particle physics. When she caught Jane’s eye she smiled and mouthed, ‘later?’
‘She’s coming!?’ Kate hissed from the head of the table and flapped emphatically for them to all shut up as Kamala and America appeared with a very unsurprised Bobbi between them.
‘Surprise!’
‘I knew the moment these two-‘ Bobbi prodded Kam and America in the cheeks, ‘wanted to go shopping that something was up.’
Kam rolled her eyes, ‘we only said that after you said no to our other suggestions.’
Bobbi rolled her eyes and eyed them all. ‘Y’all forgot to turn location services off. I just enjoyed torturing you too while you tried to find ways of making me come.’
America, seemingly chuffed with how sneaky she’d been, laughed. ‘Well then. Welcome to your surprise party.’
Lance and Bobbi slipped away after mains and with only a few pieces of pizza left, congealed cheese and wine rings all over the table, everyone had found booths around the bar.
Nat and Clint had cornered her when Bucky went to chat to Steve, turning up late after his date with Sharon, who seated next to Kate actually seemed happy.
‘We don’t have to have this conversation,’ Nat said, ‘but we do have to say this: we’re both sorry.’
‘Very. Ouija boards are bullshit.’
Darcy grinned at Clint and the effort of smiling didn’t seem grating, ‘yeah, they definitely are.’
‘You know what we meant though,’ he mumbled, ‘the intention behind it?’
Darcy nodded.
‘Don’t do it again.. with anyone. It’s-‘
‘Stupid,’ Nat said, ‘really fucking stupid.’
‘But, I got the message,’ Darcy offers, even if she feels like it’s too big a commiseration to them. They seem to take the effort at face value and Nat squeezes her shoulder as she brushes past her and Darcy is almost certain Nat looks about to cry.
She finds Pepper sitting outside on the stairs, Tony bouncing on his heels, two champagne glasses at their feet.
‘Hey,’ Pepper smiles and shuffles over, ‘I heard.’
Darcy doesn’t know what she’s heard but assumes everything because its Pepper and that’s just how the cookie crumbles.
‘What a year,’ she replies with a shrug and they both laugh.
‘That’s for sure.’
‘Is it time for cake yet?’ Tony asks, downing his glass.
Darcy grins as they both get to their feet. ‘Did we get her the candles that sing Happy Birthday?’
‘If you mean Toxic by Britney, then yes.'
'Doesn't she hate that song?' someone asks from behind Tony.
'Sam! What is the point of coming to a surprise party after the guest of honour rocks up?'
'Solidarity?' he says and grins, 'what, am I not welcome?'
'No,' Darcy interjects, quickly. 'Most welcome.'
He looks almost as if he's going to go with frowning before he rolls his shoulders back and she knows the effort he is instilling into being the bigger person here, gives him a small, hopeful smile.
'Thanks, Darcy.'
'No,' she says, passing him a half-full champagne glass, 'I should be thanking you.'
Term ends the way it started, not with a bang but with a lot of assignments and a lot of coffee.
Deadlines get missed, she forgets to text back and things mostly fall back right where they were. But admist all of that there are some new things. Things with Bucky are good, in that new relationship kind of way, where getting to know each other properly, intimately is exciting and breath-taking and beautiful.
Tony, in both surprise and confusion, is class valedictorian, beating Pepper only in the narrowest of margins and when they take the stands on the hottest day in June, she isn’t sure why she’s crying when he wishes them the brightest future, the most beautiful tomorrow.
When they all meet at Tony’s apartment for drinks, Darcy ducks out on the balcony to text her therapist, Tuesday? 1pm? Perfect. The mental effort of typing out the message is less each time but makes her feel a little numb. She is determined this time, not just to get better but to stay better.
The end of grad night finds them all around the table, three rounds of Kings Cup behind them, empty bottles rounded up on the kitchen table and Bucky yelling at Clint for losing at the side-game of beer pong they’ve got going, again.
She can’t quite put her finger on it, whatever the feeling is, whether nausea from too many jaeger bombs or a nervous excitement but it's there and it’s the first thing shes felt in a long time. Felt in herself as if it was a part of her and not being experiencing through a lens.
And though she is sure that whatever happens tomorrow will happen, she can’t help but feel that she’ll be better for it. Good or bad, happy or sad, she would live through it. Maybe, hopefully, some of them would be there to see her through it.
And perhaps it wouldn’t be forever. Perhaps there wouldn’t be Tuesday Taco Nights in the common room with the girls and perhaps she’d see Clint only on birthdays or America only when Kamala was available but it would be ok. Maybe this moment had to pass, this glorious exquisite moment when they were all together because she would cherish it. Maybe it would be repeated, somewhere down the line, differently, perhaps, but again. Or, the dynamics would change.
But for now, they were here and for now, so was she and that, this moment, this being was a forever she could remember.