Sol 10
“You need to take a break,” Jane said, and Darcy laughed in her face.
So many things had changed since Mark’s death - Mark’s dead, Mark’s dead, Mark’s dead - and the biggest surprise, at least to Darcy, was how little control she had over her temper.
“When have you ever taken a break?” she asked her friend, going straight for the jugular. “When Thor left, you worked for fifty hours straight. Then collapsed for ten, and worked some more. When the Dark Elves invaded, you coped by helping SHIELD identify the wreckage. Again. Eighteen-hour days fueled by Jaffa Cakes and Red Bull because London doesn’t quite understand the meaning of ‘Open twenty-four hours a day.’ You’re the last person who should ever lecture me about being a workaholic.”
Jane’s mouth hung open - a bit like a carp, really. Darcy hoped that she’d shut her up. A small part of her felt guilty at the way she’d spoken to the woman who was her best friend, boss, and the sister she’d never had. Most of her, though, was unapologetic.
It’s my grieving party, and I can work if I want to.
Even if I have to take a break every now and then to sob my eyes out. Waterproof mascara is truly the work of the gods.
But damn it. If I didn’t have this - didn’t have work to come to, why would I drag myself out of bed in the morning? I’d be lying in a pile of snotty tissues, watching endless Friends re-runs, thinking about things I really shouldn’t be. And Mark wouldn’t like that.
- Mark’s dead, Mark’s dead. -
So. Work.
“We’re worried, Darce.” Jane said, and Darcy did her best to hide a sigh.
So I didn’t manage to shut her up, then.
“You don’t sleep - you barely eat - if I got like that, you’d be yelling at me to rest, too, and you know it!” Jane placed her hands on her hips. “I didn’t want to do this, but… I’ll call Mark’s parents if I have to.”
“Jane.” She couldn’t - wouldn’t - weren’t Bert and Caroline going through enough without having to worry about Darcy? How could Jane even think of worrying them more? But, staring into Jane’s face, recognising the expression she’d worn while confronting SHIELD agents taking their equipment, the same expression she’d worn while absolutely refusing Fury’s offer to work for SHIELD, Darcy realised she’d have to give her best friend something.
“I have no shame, you know this,” Jane said flatly. “Believe me. If it gets you to go to sleep, to eat, to rest, I’ll do it.”
“Fine.” Darcy turned off her tablet. “There wasn’t much more to do tonight anyway.” Funny how your email backlog gets less when you start working sixteen-hour days. “But I don’t wanna sleep.”
“Okay,” Jane said easily, and Darcy was immediately suspicious. “Let’s get you something to eat then. What do you want?”
“You aren’t gonna spike my drink, are you?” Darcy asked.
“I wouldn’t,” Jane protested, but something in her expression was off.
“You wouldn’t, but Stark would,” Darcy grumbled. “And I bet Steve would help.” She made a face. “Is it just me, or are those two getting oddly close lately?”
“It’s not just you,” Jane said, sidling closer. “I’ll tell you about what they’ve been doing over pizza, okay?”
“Okay,” Darcy acceded. “Margaritas? From that place around the corner?”
“As if I haven’t known your boring-ass pizza preferences since the first week you were my intern.” Jane pulled Darcy out of her chair and out of the office.
Out of the office, and into the common room, where Steve was opening the last of what appeared to be a dozen pizza boxes.
“Darcy!” he said, leaning over the counter to grab a pizza box, then offering it to her. “Your pizza.”
Darcy accepted the box, the smell of cheese, dough, and sauce making her stomach suddenly growl. In that moment, Darcy remembered exactly when she’d had her last real meal. That morning, on her way to work. A muffin, at 6am. No wonder her dresses were so loose.
Shit. I really am taking crap care of myself. Damn it.
Mark would hate that.
-Mark’s dead, Mark’s dead, Mark’s dead!-
“Shortstack!” A hand landed on her shoulder, and Darcy found a wan smile to give to Stark. “Glad to see you!” He glanced over at Jane. “You told her, yet?”
Jane glared at him. “It was hard enough to get her to eat, Tony.”
“Tell me what?” Darcy asked, still standing in the middle of the room, holding a box of untouched pizza.
“You’re booked on a Starkjet to Chicago tomorrow.” Stark held up a hand before she could protest. “Before you start to complain, the Watneys suggested it. They said something about misery loving company. Or some shit like that.”
“But work-“ she tried.
“You can do anything you need to online,” Tony said with a casual wave. “And besides. The Avengers survived without a PR manager before; we can do it again.”
Darcy was ready to protest, had five different arguments with varying degrees of probable success on her tongue, then, suddenly, deflated.
“He’d want me to go, wouldn’t he?” she half-whispered.
“What?” Tony looked to Jane, confused.
Darcy put her head in her hands, fighting off tears for about the billionth time that day. A pair of arms crept around her shoulders - small - Jane’s.
“Mark would have wanted you to go?” Jane asked hesitantly.
Well, this makes a change from you acting all dictatorial, Darcy thought sardonically, even though she knew she wasn’t being fair.
But the whole thing wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair! They’d made it through Darcy’s waffling in grad school, through Mark’s time at the ACS, through two big alien invasions and countless smaller disasters. Through Project Insight, and Mark was supposed to come home and they were supposed get married. And they’d get a dog. And they’d move into some adorable walk-up in the city, probably next to Barton up in Bed-Stuy!
And then Mark had to get himself killed on Mars! He hadn’t even been there a week! Sol 6, for crying out loud!
And now there wouldn’t be any wedding. Or living until they were old, grey, and crotchety. No kids, no dog. No place in Bed-Stuy.
Not fair.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Darcy grumbled, instead of saying any of that. She lifted her head and looked at Tony, who was doing his best confused puppy impression. “No, Stark, you don’t get to act confused. You and Jane were sharing an ‘I can’t believe she’s gonna spend the rest of her life living the way her dead fiancé would have wanted - how sad is that’ look.” She looked at Jane. “I know it’s pathetic. But it’s the only thing keeping me together right now, so I’m using it. Ok?”
Jane just nodded.
“And I’ll be on that damned plane tomorrow,” Darcy continued. “If Bert and Caroline want me in Chicago, the least I can do is come.” She glared at Tony. “And I’ll work while I’m gone. Telecommuting is a thing now, you know.”
“Whatever you want, Shortstack,” Tony said, ruffling her hair. “Whatever you want.”