Fury Road Crossover Bucky/Darcy Rated T
Day 12
Opposites Attract AU- Mad Max: Fury Road Crossover
Bucky/Darcy
Rated T
Avengersville, Somewhere in the Austrailian Wastes- Many years after the world was killed
“You can’t be serious, Cap!” Bucky hissed as he eyed the young woman standing next to his rig, her hands tightly clutching the handle of a large leather case in front of her hips.
“I am, Buck. She’s more capable than she looks. She can take care of herself. The Doc's insist they need the readings and only she and Foster know how to take them. Would you rather I sent Doc Foster with you?” Steve argued.
Bucky’s face cringed as imagined all the nightmarish possibilities. “Hell, no! She wouldn’t last 5 minutes out in the wastes, and you know it.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Steve said, knowing that there was a spine of steel under the Doc Foster’s bird-thin frame. “The point is, I figured you’d feel better taking Darcy.”
The dark-haired man huffed and rolled his shoulders trying to release some of the tension building beneath one of the straps holding on his prosthetic arm. “What am I supposed to do with her when I make the stop at the citadel for water? You know how they are about women there. There’s a reason we don’t let them come on the barter runs.”
“She’s with you, she’ll be safe. Joe knows what will happen if he tries to take one of ours. He needs the machine parts and medical supplies that we trade with him. Besides, she has a head wrap to wear and she knows to keep out of sight as much as possible. She’s not stupid, Bucky. Give her some credit.” Steve knew his friends protestations came from a good place. He had always been protective of the women. They all were, but his stubborn friend seemed determined to take it to a new level. He just didn’t have time right now for his friend’s overprotective and somewhat misogynistic tendencies.
“But she’s so… loud. She is always talking, and trying to get in everyone’s business,” Barnes protested weakly, trying one last time to avoid having to spend almost 8 days cooped up with her in the cab of his rig for the long trip to make the trade run, as well as detouring to the location on the edge of the salt flats where Darcy was supposed to take her readings.
“You mean she’s friendly and is always trying to help take care of others,” Steve insisted, rolling his eyes. “Tough guy like you, how will you ever manage to cope?” he asked sarcastically and turned to walk back towards the main compound. “This is important, Buck.” The tall blond man called back over his shoulder. “I’m trusting you to bring her back in one piece, with those readings.”
Bucky looked skyward for a second, praying to whatever gods were still listening for patience. Turning around to stalk towards his rig and the waiting woman with a scowl, he grunted when she raised one hand in an awkward wave and nearly lost her grip on her satchel. “Get in,” he said harshly and then felt immediately guilty when the shy smile on her face fell away. He tried to rationalize his rudeness by thinking that if was for her own good, to toughen her up and give her a thick skin. After all, if she couldn’t handle an ally being gruff with her, how was she ever supposed to handle an enemy trying to kill he or take all she had.
Somehow, though, it didn’t really make him feel any better.
Bucky was a little surprised when the first day passed in almost complete silence between them. Once they were out of sight of the settlement Darcy had opened her case and pulled out a fabric covered bundle. After folding back the flats to revel a worn and weathered old book, she opened the warped and water stained cover and began to read, ignoring him completely.
When they stopped to add fuel from the pod they were hauling, she quickly and quietly assisted him in doing the vehicle checks without even needing to be asked or instructed. He watched her kicking the tires and using an instrument to check the air pressure with some surprise, but when she moved to the front of the engine and began knocking sand out of the intake pipes, he couldn’t stop the, “What are you doing?” from bursting out.
She gave him a flat look and then glanced around at the hazy horizon. “The wind’s picking up. I just wanted to make sure they were clear in case it turns out to be a major storm,” she said with a shrug and went back to it.
He knew it was a good idea, because he’d been planning to do the same thing after he finished fueling up, even though he knew his rig was in perfect working condition and that the whole engine had been cleaned out just before they left.
When she finished with the intake pipes, she moved around the truck checking valves and rigging straps to make sure everything was locked down and sealed tight.
“You’ve worked on a rig before?” he asked, unable to keep all the surprise out of his voice.
“Of course,” she scoffed mildly, sounding and looking a bit insulted. “It was just Jane, Erik, and I before we ran into Thor and joined up with Steve and Tony’s crew.” There was a defiant undertone to her expression, but he could see the haunted flash in her eyes as she recalled the past.
He didn’t know much about her history. She had already been established at Steve’s settlement for a few years when he had stumbled upon them and the friend he’d long thought lost. He supposed it was pretty shitty of him to assume that because things were relatively easy in Avengersville that no one there had ever seen the horrors that took place in the outside world. It seemed a willfully ignorant oversight now that he thought about it.
No one’s life was free from suffering and pain, especially now that the world was dead.
When he pulled off for the night to sleep, she didn’t say a word. She simply tucked her book back into her case and then pulled out rations for the both of them, handed him his share, and ate in silence. Then she shocked him again when she hopped out of the cab and rolled out one of the bedrolls onto the rocks and sand underneath one of the wheels.
“You can sleep in the cab,” he protested when he realized her intention was to sleep outside on the cold, hard ground.
“I’m fine here,” she said, rolling over to give him her back. He’d followed her out of the cab and was crouched low to peer at her under the cover of the rig.
“You should take the cab, Lewis. I’ll sleep out here if you aren’t comfortable sharing space with me.” It stung his pride a little that she would rather risk the aches and pains of sleeping on the ground then trust him with her in the confines of the small truck.
She practically growled in frustration and rolled over to glare at him. “Don’t be stupid, Barnes. You’re the one that drove all day, and you’re the one that has to drive again tomorrow,” he didn’t think he was imagining the resentful undercurrent to her words, though he was at a loss to explain it.
“You’ll sleep better if I’m not in there cramping up the space. You need to be well rested, and it isn’t like this is the first time I’ve had to rough it, okay. I’m fine. Just- Just go to sleep.” She rolled back over and dismissed him with a cold shoulder.
He couldn’t fault her logic, but it still didn’t feel right.
“Just come up, Lewis. There’s room for two, even if it is a little cramped. I don’t really need that much sleep anyway.”
“Good night, Barnes,” she said pointedly and then continued to ignore him.
“Fine,” he barked and climbed back into the cab and laid across the seat, his booted feet propped out the window. “Stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath with a few other uncomplimentary phrases aimed in her direction. Despite all her logic and self-sacrifice, it was still a few hours before he managed to fall asleep.
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Lewis. You’re usually a lot more… social.” Bucky said on the third day of their trek, when the stilted silence between them finally became too much for even him to handle.
She looked up from her book and turned her head to look at him from the passenger seat, and he watched from the corner of his eye as she gave him a considering frown.
Eventually, she answered, looking away as she said, “Yeah, well, contrary to what you seem to believe, I’m not deaf, blind, or stupid, Barnes. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t like me and you don’t want me here. I’m just trying to be as small a burden on you as possible.”
He cringed, knowing she was justified in thinking that was the truth, even though it wasn’t. Not really. He didn’t not like her, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want her there, it was just that having her with him out there made him anxious because he knew-he knew- exactly how bad things could go out on the road, and he didn’t want something bad to happen to her. He didn’t think he could handle the guilt if something happened to her on his watch. The guilt would probably kill him.
The thing was- he did like Darcy. He admired her smiles and the way she was friendly with everyone. She could talk for hours about absolutely nothing, and at the end, the person she’d been talking to would find their mood a little brighter, and their world a little better. She was innocence and optimism and the best of the goodness left in this god-forsaken place. He liked that about her, even if he didn’t always know how to act around her because of it.
He knew Steve was probably hoping that if he spent enough time with Darcy she would rub off on him enough to draw him out of his normally somber and brooding disposition. Bucky doubted such a thing were possible, but, if it were, Darcy would be the one to pull it off.
But not if she continued to mope like this and act like he’d just pissed in her aquifer.
Untangling his thoughts took long enough that the pause had become almost painfully uncomfortable. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t really good with words, not like she was, so he just said, “I don’t not like you.”
She snorted and turned back to her reading. Her reply was quite almost too hard to hear. “Could have fooled me.”
Bucky just hated himself a little bit more.
The fourth morning they were ambushed just as he finished fueling the rig. The sound of an engine and whooping and screaming reached him as he was tightening the cap back on because the wind decided to shift direction at just the right time. If it hadn’t, he might not have had time to get back to the cab and get the large trunk moving.
He ordered Darcy to arm herself from the stash of guns behind the seat and then told her to get down on the floor.
“I can shoot, Barnes, don’t be an ass,” she hissed as she reached for the handle to lower the window on her side.
“And you might have to-,” he snapped back and reached over to grab her around her waist and tug her towards the floor, “-but I’m gonna try something else first. You’re safest on the floor, till I say otherwise.”
When she glared up at him and looked like she might argue with him some more until he softened his face and pleaded with her. “Please, Darcy. Just trust me?”
The anger went out of her face and she nodded, holding the sawed off shotgun tightly, but staying put.
Knowing she was as safe as could be for now, he turned his attention back to the vehicles he could see approaching from the east and coming on fast. He scanned the terrain ahead and to the west and then adjusted the steering wheel slightly and angled towards a familiar rock formation just peeking from the horizon in the far distance.
With the vehicles now approaching from the rear, he squinted into his side view mirror to take stock of the threat. There were three smaller scavenger rigs, probably only two or three men a piece, and they were coming fast.
The raiding party had caught up to them after only a few minutes and Bucky could hear the taunts and screams of mad men who chased them loud and clear.
Several cries of, “For the Red Skull!” and, “Hail Hydra!” rang over the roar of the topped out engines, and Bucky’s blood turned to ice in his veins.
“Why’d it have to be the Hydra gang,” he moaned and began watching for the perfect opportunity.
When it came, he didn’t hesitate for a moment. He twisted the wheel violently, knowing just how much his rig could handle before it would go over, and hopping they didn’t hit a soft spot in the sand. The vehicle he’d veered into on their left failed to react quick enough and the spikes on the rig’s hubcaps caught and tore through the front tire of the smaller vehicle.
Friction and momentum did the rest as the first raider car twisted and flipped violently.
On the passenger’s side the gang had pulled even with the cab and began to fire their weapons towards the window.
Darcy squeaked in fear, and ducked her head under her arms. Bucky tapped the breaks suddenly and the faster car shot forward, skidding and sliding a bit as they tried to get in front of them.
Bucky changed direction again and slammed back down on the gas. At the same time, he hit the emergency nitro. The larger rig leaped forward, and with the angle between them and the raider vehicle not yet lined up he managed to clip the back corner and send it spinning out of control. In the side view mirror, Bucky saw the last pursuer was now attached by thick chains and grappling harpoons to the rear of the fueling pod.
“Fuck!” he cursed, knowing it would be near impossible to dislodge them while moving and he’d probably do more damage to his truck in the attempt then was prudent. He aimed the truck for the rock formation once again and floored it. “They’re on our back, Lewis. Hand me a knife and then watched your side.”
She obeyed instantly, sliding a deadly, serrated blade with a sturdy leather-wrapped hilt into his open right palm and then climbing up onto the seat and rolling down her window. He locked the blade into the gripping hand-like mechanism on the end of his metal arm and raised it, prepared to strike at anyone attempting to come in through his window.
There were several tense seconds of tightly wound anticipation as the truck rattled and banged over the uneven wasteland ground, the roar of the engine, and the rush of the air pouring in through the open windows. Then, Darcy’s eyes caught movement in the mirror on her side and she leaned out and fired in a lightning fast movement that reminded him of a striking cobra. Then she was back inside, and the rear wheels jumped as then went over a tumbling body.
He was so busy appreciating her skill and speed that he almost missed the sound of the feet on the roof.
“Up!” he screamed and jerked the wheel hoping to toss the climber off balance.
No such luck.
The sharp length of a machete came slicing down through the rusted roof and ricocheting off the top of his metal shoulder. The shriek of metal on metal screeched in his left ear and he jerked to the right, the wheel of the rig going with him.
Darcy let out an involuntary scream as she was thrown across the seat and into his side. The impact sent him slamming back against the tip of the long, wicked blade that was still impaled through the ceiling of the cab, and he felt the bite of it against his back. One of the leather straps holding his arm in place gave and his prosthetic slide askew enough for him to loose contact with the pressure points that controlled the mechanism of his hand and elbow.
When a face painted with the red and black death mask of the Hydra gang leaned down from the top of the cab, grinning maliciously, a big-ass handgun in his hand, Bucky was pinned and all but useless, all his concentration on the wheel with his right hand trying to keep the rig from going over and killing them all.
“Hail Hydra!” The grinning face shouted and then aimed the gun at his face.
Darcy raised her shotgun first and fired it right into the man's toothy smile. “Hail this,” she spat, but Bucky could only see the shape of her lips as she spoke, the shotgun blast having gone off right next to his ear. All he could actually hear was a muffled, high-pitched buzz.
He turned to watch in the mirror as the remaining driver peeled away, discouraged by having lost all his allies. Bucky let out a relieved sigh and turned to face Darcy.
He gave her a grateful nod as she looked back at him, her face creased with concern and her full lips pouting out. They moved again as she said something else, but he shook his head and said, “can’t hear, yet,” in a voice he was sure was way too loud, though to him it was only a hazy shift in the buzzing tones of his still ringing ears.
She nodded and then her frown deepened as she gestured at his back. He leaned forward, his chest against the steering column and he felt as she reached back to press the strip of fabric that she’d torn off the bottom of her shirt over the still bleeding slash he could feel across his left shoulder blade.
“Careful,” he said, “Watch out for that machete.” It was still poking through the roof, and the last thing they needed was for her to lose a finger or two trying to patch him up.
She just moved her face into his line of sight and gave him a look that said, ‘no shit, asshole, I’m not a total moron,’ and then went back to mopping up his blood.
All things considered, he’d more than earned that look, and he knew it. He also knew that as soon as they were out of Hydra’s territory and he was patched up, he was going to owe her a huge apology.
And then some.
When they reached the rock formation, he drove around to the back and pulled up behind a large outcropping that hid the truck from view. He told her to grab their med kit and her shotgun and follow him.
He walked carefully up a rocky incline and then down the other side into a shallow gully that ran 20 feet or so back along the sharp rise of a cliff until it dipped down and disappeared into a dark opening.
“There’s a cave here? How did you know about this?” Darcy asked, stunned as she followed him down into the cool, dark air of the hollowed out space.
“I-“ Bucky hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to tell her. “I-uh, I’ve had run in’s with the Hydra gang before. I spent time hiding out here when I was trying to get away.” He walked to the back corner of the cave and pulled away a sand covered sheet that had blended with the surrounding rock and revealed a plastic water container and a small crate with food rations, weapons and ammo, and an ancient looking flashlight.
“Where did all this come from?” Darcy wondered as she stepped next to him and watched him fiddle with the flashlight. She gasped in delight when it flickered to light, its beam weak and sickly yellow, but still a wonder to behold these days.
He set it between the split in two rocks and turned to sit on the corner of the crate. With movements that spoke of familiar repetition he unbuckled the remaining straps that held his arm on and pulled it off. He eyed the edges of the one that had been sliced through with more than a little irritation.
She reached out and held one of the ends between her slender fingers. “I can sew this for you, after I patch up your back. I have my kit in the rig.”
“You brought a sewing kit?” he asked, incredulous. “Why?”
She shrugged and released his strap. “You never know what you’re going to need, right? It won’t be permanent, but I can probably whip up something that will last till we get back home and Tony can replace it.”
“Okay,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.
“I should get your shoulder cleaned up first,” she sighed and reached for his shoulder, but he rocked out of her reach.
“I’m fine. I need to get that machete out of my ceiling then we should fuel up and go. I want to get farther from Hydra territory before much longer. Who knows how long it’ll be before that driver comes back with reinforcements.”
“You don’t think they’ll find us here, do you?” she asked, her voice strained with apprehension, for good reason.
“No, probably not, but I’d rather not take that chance. We’re still too close to their territory for my comfort.”
She stepped into his space and reached for the strip of her shirt that she’d tied around his shoulder. “Well, we’re fine for now. Let me clean this up and wrap it better so it doesn’t get infected. Unless you’re looking to lose your shoulder, too?” Her pointed look made him sit still as she fussed.
She helped him remove his tattered shirt and then opened the med kit and used the contents to clean and cover his wound, standing just behind him as she rinsed away blood and sand, and humming softly. It was soothing and comforting in a way that was completely alien to him. Her hands on his bare skin, her hair brushing against his face and neck, her soft sounds filling his finally recovered ears, all of it combined to make him want to sag back against her and let his adrenaline wasted body rest for days.
“That was some fancy driving back there,” she said softly into his ear while she worked.
He grunted as he gathered the mind and will to form words. “Yeah, well, it’s not my first time fending off raiders on the road.”
“You have to deal with that every time you make a trade circuit?” she asked, her curiosity overcoming her determination not to bother him with her chatter.
“Not every time. One in three, maybe.”
“And you’re usually by yourself?”
“Unless I can talk Wilson or Barton into coming.”
She hummed quietly in acknowledgment.
The silence that settled around them was less tense then it had been, but he found himself wishing it was filled again.
“You handled yourself well,” he admitted only the smallest bit begrudgingly. “With the shotgun, I mean.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I was out in the world, but it wasn’t my first time fending off raiders, either.” She said, and he was impressed that she managed to keep the resentful burn out of her words, though he guessed it was a struggle for her.
“Look, Lewis,” he said as she finished on his shoulder and helped him back into his ruined shirt. “I’m sorry about- before. What I said and- and the way I treated you. You saved my ass back there. I just want you to know that I won’t forget that.”
“Good,” she said, and packed up the rest of the kit. “Now why don’t we get your rig and your arm fixed up and get back on the road, huh? We’re wasting daylight.”
“Okay, good. That sounds good.”
There were almost smiles.
She sewed his severed strap back together while he fueled the truck and pulled the blade out of his rig’s roof. It was worse that awkward and he felt clumsy without his prosthetic, but it made things go faster to have her take care of it while he got those things finished. Then she helped him back into his arm, they made sure the flashlight was off, and he replaced the cover to secure the things in the cave just in case it might be needed another day.
She stood behind the truck and helped him back out from where they were tucked into the cover of the rocks and then she hopped up into the cab with a smile.
“On the road again,” she sang, the tune an ancient and familiar talisman of the people who made the wastes their home.
He smiled faintly, glad that her stubborn determination to remain quiet seemed to be waning. That feeling dwindled though, when she pulled out her cloth wrapped bundle and removed the book inside. The binding creaked as she opened it back to a place in the middle and lowered her head to read.
“What book is that?” he asked, surprising the both of them.
She glanced at him with wide eyes and he tried to recover, clearing his throat before he continued.
“I haven’t seen very many books, is all.” Another wide eyed stare followed by another throat clearing. “What’s it about?”
Finally, her face relaxed and she gave him a funny look, followed by a pleased little half-smile. “It’s about these people that get ship wrecked and end up on an island with these giant lizard monsters called deeno-sawers. I don’t know the title, cause the cover is too ruined to make out, but-”
“Deeno-sawers? Like, lizards the size of a dog?”
“More like the size of a big-rig, or maybe even as tall as the Thunderdome,” she said, and laughed in delight as his eyes went wide.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he huffed, defensive at her laughter.
“Actually, Jane things they may have been a real thing a very, very, very long time ago,” she said, her eyes shining with intelligence and amusement.
“Who? You mean Doc Foster?”
“Yeah. She’s seen other books that talked about them as creatures that actually existed. They basically ruled the Earth, but then they were all killed off by some kind of big disaster. It was so long ago, though, before there were even people. Makes me wonder what kinds of things will take over once we’re all gone…” Her voice trailed off as she considered the prospect of everyone she knew and cared for no longer existing. He longed to wipe the sadness from her eyes and see that brilliant mirth return.
“But these people found deeno-sawers on an island? Still alive?” he asked, hoping to draw her back to the things she seemed so excited about before.
“Yeah, it’s pretty exciting. Jane thinks this is only fiction, a story for nothing more that amusement, but I think it would have been really cool if it were true.”
He waited a beat, watching her from the corner of his eyes before he shifted and said, “You can tell me about it,” he shrugged. “If you want.”
She gave him a huge sunny grin, and began to do just that.
He decided that the chatter wasn’t so bad. It was better than the silence any day.