Sweet Nothings

     In the small hours of the morning, the streets of downtown were quiet and empty. The sun wouldn’t appear for another few hours, nor would the hordes of the working class. The teenagers on winter break would still be nestled deep in their beds, the covers pulled tight around them. The city bus drivers and the garbage men would just be waking up to prepare for the long day ahead. Mothers and fathers would stumble out of bed to start breakfast for the early rising toddlers that insisted it was time for pancakes. Coffee makers would click on, toasters would be filled, juice would be poured, and sleepy eyes would be rubbed. But for now, the world was asleep, blissfully ignorant of the day ahead.
     Should the sleepy world awake and peek into the kitchen of the Shield bakery, they would find Darcy Lewis, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hair twisted into a bun, and apron tied around her waist. She was hard at work, kneading dough for a double batch of cinnamon rolls. In the weeks since Christmas, Darcy had taken a more active role in baking, leaving the decorating to Peter and Bruce. She spent most of her days in the kitchen with Steve, cranking out pastry after pastry. Darcy had even started experimenting with recipes, coming up with her own creations. It was her way of coping, everyone thought, and if that meant they got to eat chocolate raspberry pancakes, then that was a burden they were more than willing to bear.

     The one transformation that made them a bit uneasy was her complete avoidance of the balcony. She would spend her entire day, from four in the morning to eleven o’clock at night, in the bakery, but in that time she wouldn’t so much as breathe in the direction of the balcony. It was as if it no longer existed to her, like she’d blocked it from her memory with so much force that it had erased it completely. What no one else knew was that when she was alone in the bakery, those times very early and very late in the day when she had the building to herself, she would climb up the ladder and sit on the couch. She might bring something up to decorate every now and then, but the majority of the time she just sat, letting her mind wander into the area of her memory that she kept curtained off during the day.

     When she was surrounded by her friends, she kept a smile on her face and continued the sarcastic banter she was known for. She joked and laughed and went out for drinks with Natasha. She went out with Wade, Peter, and Matt on the weekends. When she was home in the evenings, she played games with everyone and chatted through dinner. If you asked her, she would tell you she was fine, just fine, peachy keen, thanks. And she would say it with enough confidence that you could believe her, her tone bright and honest. But if you looked closer, at the bags under her eyes, at the tired set of her jaw, you would know that she was not fine.

     “Morning, Darce!” Natasha called through the kitchen door.
     She heard a muffled hello in response and dropped her purse behind the counter before pushing into the kitchen. She was hit by the smell of caramelizing sugar and cinnamon and her mouth began to water.
     “It smells amazing in here. I brought coffee,” Natasha held up the cup.
     Darcy threw a quick smile over her shoulder. “Thanks. Are you hungry? I just finished the first batch of pumpkin cinnamon rolls.”
     “For that, I can be hungry,” Natasha decided.
     She pulled a stool up to one of the prep tables and accepted the plate Darcy handed to her. Darcy set a timer on one of the ovens before joining her at the table.
     “How is it?” Darcy asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
     Natasha shot her a thumbs up. “This is really good. I can’t believe we’ve never thought of these before. What other ideas are secreted away in that brain of yours?”
     “Those are confidential,” Darcy teased. “However, this afternoon I’m going to try my hand at Jack & Coke cupcakes.”
     Natasha paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”
     “Once or twice, I think.” Darcy winked at her.
     “Now that is not a smell I recognize. Is someone experimenting again?” Tony called as he ambled into the kitchen.
     Natasha gestured to her plate. “Pumpkin cinnamon rolls. You should try one.”
     Tony helped himself to a roll from the pan on the counter, not bothering with a plate. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute. He held up a finger and walked out of the room. In the front of the bakery, they heard Tony yell for Steve. A few seconds later, Tony was dragging him into the kitchen, leading him toward the rolls.
     “Try it,” Tony commanded, shoving the rest of the roll in his own mouth.
     Steve shot him an odd look but did as he was told. “Whoa. Darcy?”
     “Yeah?” She looked up from her coffee.
     “These are going on the menu,” he said. “They’re delicious. There’s just enough pumpkin for the flavor to come through, and it doesn’t overpower the cinnamon. You did a very good job, sweetie.”
     Darcy flushed at the praise. “Thanks.”
     Tony studied the rolls. “What was in the glaze?”
     “Milk, sugar, vanilla, and a splash of whiskey for taste,” Darcy responded.
     Tony looked at her. “I raised you so well.”
     Darcy laughed. “Sure you did. Take the rolls out to everyone else and get out of the kitchen so I can work on the orders for today.”
     “As you wish,” Tony bowed.
     He and Natasha wandered back into the front of the bakery with the batch of cinnamon rolls. The door swung shut behind them, cutting off their conversation. Darcy returned to her place at the counter, pulling ingredients off the shelves as she scanned through the stack of orders for the day.
     “I put the last batch of cupcakes for the birthday order in a few minutes ago. The rest of them are iced and ready to decorate,” Darcy called over her shoulder as Steve washed his hands. “If we double the batter for the raspberry cake and split it in half before we add the raspberry puree, we can make the batter for these two orders at the same time. The bases are the same.”
     Steve leaned over her shoulder to read the orders. “Hmm. I never realized the recipes were so similar. Do you want to start on that, or do you want to whip up a batch of honey glaze for the angel food cake?”
     “I’ll do the glaze,” Darcy volunteered.
     Though they’d only been baking together for a couple of weeks, Steve and Darcy had found their rhythm quickly. They split up the jobs so that they wouldn’t be tripping over each other constantly. Plus, when Darcy came into the bakery a couple of hours early, there tended to be less work to do once Steve got there, leaving more time for them to play with new recipes. Most days, by the time the midday rush started, all of the baking for the day was done. Darcy would hang up her apron, pull on her coat, tuck her notebook under her arm and head out for a bit. She never said where she was going, but she always returned looking a little happier.
     Though he swore he hated working, Wade showed up at the bakery most days, helping with the decorating and running the counter. Some days he brought Matt, who gladly kneaded fondant into submission and folded endless boxes. Betty started coming by much more often. She and Bruce were really hitting it off. The weekend before, he’d taken her upstate to show her the lab he volunteered at when he had time. They were adorable, always mooning over each other and sending sweet little smiles across the room. When they were in a room together, it was like they lifted the mood of everyone in the room with them. Happiness by osmosis, it was.
     When the house failed to blow up at Christmas, Natasha decided having Bucky around wasn’t such a dangerous thing, and he’d slowly started spending the nights at the house. Natasha was sure the shit would hit the fan any minute, but no one commented on it. Frankly, they were all happy Natasha had finally let them meet the guy she was dating. Plus, if he was a friend of Steve’s, how bad could he be? So despite the emptiness everyone felt, they were going on with life. Clint checked in with Natasha on an almost daily basis, and he called Tony once a week. He couldn’t tell them much about what was going on, only that he was still alive and he didn’t yet know when he’d be back.
     Every week, Tony sugar coated the situation at home, assuring Clint that everyone was just fine and there was no reason for him to worry. He mentioned the new creations of Darcy’s, but he never said much about her directly. That information Clint got from Natasha, who knew that if she didn’t tell him, he’d run himself ragged worrying about her. So every couple of days, Natasha would catch Darcy laughing and snap a quick picture she could text to Clint. She just wished she could tell Darcy what was going on.

     “I’ll be back in a few, Steve. Do you need to pick anything up while I’m out?” Darcy asked, zipping her coat.
     Steve shook his head. “Nope, we’re all set. Take your time.”
     Darcy thanked him and dashed out the back door, her notebook clutched tightly to her side. She cut through the back alleys of downtown, heading west toward the bay. It was a short walk when she went through the alleys, and even in the winter the bay was gorgeous. She sat on a bench facing the water and breathed in the sharp winter air, flipping her notebook open to a clean page.
     Clint-
     It’s the second week of January, but you were right, people do still take their boats out on the bay. I sure as hell wouldn’t do it, but it seems normal to them, to chop through the ice around the dock just to get their boat moving. When I was little, my dad had this boat that he took out fishing in the summers. He took me with him sometimes. I was terrible at fishing. I never had the patience for it. I liked playing with the worms instead. My dad tried to explain to me countless times that they were bait, not toys, but I never listened. It wasn’t until my sister had kids and they started doing the same thing that I realized he’d eventually given up on using the worms as bait and cast an empty line so we could play with the worms. You would’ve liked each other. Hell, maybe you guys found each other on the other side and you’re casting lines together.
I      came up with a couple of new recipes today. I made Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls with a Vanilla-Whiskey Glaze for breakfast. Steve said he wanted to put them on the menu. I made a batch of Jack & Coke cupcakes before lunch. I thought Tony was going to start crying, he looked so happy. I’m getting pretty good at coming up with new creations. Who knew I was such a baking prodigy? Maybe I should switch from Political Science to a culinary degree. I’m sure Professor Fury would be thrilled.

     The circus is in town this week. I’ve never been before but Peter, Wade, Natasha, Bucky, and I are going tonight. I wonder if it was the same circus you ran away to? I looked up the history, but there weren’t pictures and everyone had a stage name. Natasha couldn’t remember the name you’d used. I wonder if your brother is still in the circus. You never said. Anyway, I should get back to the bakery.

     I miss you.
     -Darcy

     “Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls! Feast your eyes on the amazing, the magnificent...Red Arrow!”
     The ringmaster’s voice boomed loudly in the tent and the crowd roared in anticipation. A tall, thin man in a flashy red costume did a series of complicated looking flips into the ring. A clown off to the side tossed his bow to him and he caught it, pulling an arrow out of his quiver with the other hand. A couple of targets had been set up high in the rafters of the tent. The marksman bounded into the audience, taking the creaky wooden stairs two at a time. He paused about halfway up and took aim. He managed to land an arrow in the bullseye of each target. The crowd went crazy with applause. Wade and Bucky whooped with delight. Natasha didn’t look too impressed. Darcy wasn’t an expert on archery, but she thought hitting the bullseye was the point.
     As the man made his way back to the center, Peter offered Darcy the bag of cotton candy. “Is that guy wearing a skirt?”
     Darcy squinted. “It kind of looks like a loin cloth.”
     Peter giggled and stuffed a tuft of cotton candy in his mouth.
     “For my next trick,” the man announced, “I’ll need a volunteer from the audience!”
     Hands shot up all around. The man called a teenage girl from the crowd and positioned her on the far end of the tent. Darcy’s eyes roamed over the tent, taking in the audience, the performers, even the tent itself. Her eyes caught movement in the rafters and she leaned forward, trying to get a better look. It took a moment for her eyes to pick out the figure, but she realized it was a boy no more than ten years old scampering overhead. The smile on her face froze. All of a sudden, a memory came flooding back to her.
     “One night I was up in the rafters, watching the show...”
     She wasn’t in the tent anymore. She was leaning on the kitchen counter, listening to Clint talk. He had a small smile on his lips and he spoke with a hint of nostalgia, like he hadn’t told the story in a long time. He was only a few feet from her. If she reached out, she could touch him. He was so close, so alive. Darcy sucked in a breath and snapped back to reality. The crowd was going crazy, the Red Arrow bowing deeply down below.
     She had to get out of there. There wasn’t enough air in the tent. It was too much. She shot to her feet. Natasha and Peter turned towards her.
     “Darcy?” Natasha started to stand.
     “No,” she gasped out. “I’m fine. Stay. I’ll be right back.”
     Before anyone could stop her or offer to come with her, she hurried down the stairs. She slipped out of the tent as the next act started. As soon as she stepped outside, the cold winter air smacked into her, stealing away what little breath she had left. Darcy dropped to the ground, clutching her chest. She couldn’t breathe. It felt like her lungs had been ripped out. The snow seeped through her jeans, but she couldn’t stand. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax, tried to control her breathing.
     It took a few minutes, but she managed to calm herself down, to regain control. She was overwhelmed by a wave of fatigue. She sat there in the snow, her eyes shut tight against the outside world until she could hear the show coming to an end inside. She dragged herself to her feet and brushed off the snow that clung to her legs. The flap of the tent was pushed aside and Natasha stepped out, her eyes scanning the landscape worriedly. She caught sight of Darcy and dashed to her side.
     “Are you okay?” she demanded, checking her for injuries.
     Darcy patted her on the shoulder. “I’m fine, Natasha. I just got hit with a little claustrophobia or something.”
     “You’re all wet!” Natasha exclaimed, looking down at her jeans.
     “Oh, that. I, uh, fell. In the snow,” Darcy explained lamely.
     Natasha studied her face. “Darcy, did you have a panic attack?”
     “What? No. No, of course not. I...maybe. Yeah. Yeah, I think I did,” she sighed.
     Natasha shrugged out of her coat and wrapped it around Darcy’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go home.”
     Darcy let Natasha lead her to where Bucky, Wade, and Peter were waiting with the car. All three of them looked worriedly at Darcy when she approached. Without a word, Darcy crawled into the car and buckled her seat belt, wrapping Natasha’s coat around her tighter. Wade and Peter sat on either side of her. Wade put his arm around her shoulder and Darcy fell asleep against his side before they even made it out of the parking lot.
     Checking the rearview mirror to make sure Darcy was asleep, Bucky cleared his throat. “Is she okay?”
     Natasha glanced in the backseat. “She had a panic attack.”
     Peter made a noise and Wade’s arm tightened protectively around Darcy’s sleeping form. The car fell silent for a few minutes as they waited for the line of cars to creep out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Bucky put his hand on Natasha’s knee. She squeezed his hand gratefully and looked out the window.
     In the backseat, Peter shifted. “When are you going to tell her?”
     Natasha winced. “We can’t.”
     “Why the hell not?” he seethed.
     Natasha twisted in her seat to look at him. “It’s too dangerous for her to know. I can’t say much about what Clint’s doing, mostly because I don’t know everything about it. But what I can tell you is that in his past, Clint made some enemies. These enemies resurfaced recently, and have been tracking him. They know about him and Darcy. Right now, they won’t do anything to her because they think Clint’s dead. But if they find out it was a trick, she’s in danger. Until Clint can take them out, she can’t know.”
     “So, what, he was James Bond in a past life?” Peter asked.
     “More or less,” Natasha confirmed.
     Peter and Wade exchanged a look.
     Wade grinned. “I knew that guy was cool.”     Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s bad enough that the two of you have figured it out. You can’t say anything to anyone about it. I’m serious. If you do, you’re putting Darcy and Clint in immense danger.”
     Peter and Wade both nodded in acknowledgement.
     After a couple of beats, Wade caught Natasha’s eye in the side mirror. “She’s gonna kill him when he comes back.”
     Natasha nodded once. “Yes, she will.”