running | darcy & bruce, deserving better
“… I’m sorry, Darcy.”
“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” she said incredulously. That was when she saw the duffle bag at his feet, opened and already half-full, and her brain blanked. “Tell me you’re not thinking of doing what I think you’re thinking of doing. You’re not guil—
He gave her a mournful look, defeated and tired and broken. “I don’t care if they decide I’m guilty or innocent,” he said quietly. “I know what I am – I’m a monster, but I’m also a man. I try to help people, I try to make up for what I’ve done, but if I go tomorrow, and they decide to lock me away? Both of us know that he’ll weasel his way to me, sooner or later. I’d rather be on the run than locked up as Ross’s lab rat.”
She wanted to scream, to yell, to break everything in sight, but all she could do was stand there helplessly, anger raging inside her body but unable to leak out of her skin. She didn’t know how he could just stand there and say it so casually, how he was so ready to distance himself from the past three years as if he was some casual bystander – he was one of them, a part of their family, and he was so prepared to leave them behind like old toys that it hurt.
“What about the rest of us?” Bruce froze, his hand inches away from where he’d placed his glasses on the lab bench, but she pressed forward. “What about Tony, and Jane and me? What about Steve and Sam, and Clint and Thor— what about Natasha?”
At the last name, he flinched. “It’s not that simple—”
“No, I think it’s very simple, actually,” she cut him off. “Everyone in this building is prepared to fight for you. Every single goddamn person, from the Avengers down to the freaking lunch lady in the cafeteria, has your back because you are a good person, Bruce – even if you don’t believe it.”
He wilted a little, and Darcy realized that he really didn’t believe it – he still blamed himself, still suffered in his guilt, and she softened her tone as she continued, “You still act like it’s you against the world, but we’re here. We’re all ready to back you up, but if you’re not willing to even fight for yourself, then they win. He wins.”
He said nothing, eyes lowered as he fidgeted with his glasses, and Darcy sighed. “Running away isn’t going to make it any easier. Pushing us away isn’t going to make any of this better.”
“You can’t fight this fight alone, and frankly? I think you deserve better.” She stared him in the eye as he looked up at her in surprise. “… So, are you with us or not?”
He looked at her; really looked at her, and she could feel him weighing his options – pitting the risk against the reward, his doubts against her determination, and his fear of the future against his self-sacrificing tendencies. And if Darcy was being honest, she really didn’t know what he’d choose.
He swallowed, eyes flickering in uncertainty before he gave her a small smile, as if trying to reassure both her and himself. “I’m with you,” he said quietly, and the weight on her heart lifted.
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her face into his chest. Darcy could feel his hands as they settled on her back, the warmth of his hands bleeding through her shirt, and he nosed the crook of her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
“Nobody’s taking you anywhere.” She just squeezed tighter. “We won't let them.”