Sol 20
“Miss Lewis! Miss Lewis!” The press corps was a shouting her name. In another universe, Darcy thought she might have enjoyed it. Hell, in this universe she might have enjoyed it, if they weren’t trying to get her attention just to get her to elaborate on something she really didn’t want to elaborate on.
That’s the job, she thought, and pasted her best media smile onto her face, pointing at a reporter.
“Miss Lewis, New York Post,” the guy began, holding his phone out so he could capture his question and her response on tape. Is it on tape if it’s just random ones and zeroes? Darcy wondered, then grabbed her mind and pulled it back towards the job at hand. “Can you comment on the ongoing relief efforts in Lagos and the allegations of money going to corrupt government officials?”
Darcy sighed inwardly - this was a repeat question. But if the Post wanted their scoop, so be it.
“As you know,” she began, looking at the reporter, then at the video cameras scattered around the lobby of the Tower, “Mr. Stark and the Avengers have been giving both financial aid and bodies on the ground to help those who were injured or lost property during the attempted capture of ex-HYDRA agent and current mercenary Brock Rumlow.” And I’m glad he’s dead, she thought savagely. Rumlow was one of the real bad guys. Only wanted to see Steve suffer. Because he hasn’t had enough hard times already.
“SI and the Avengers are doing everything to make sure that the money being given to the people in Lagos is being used to repair buildings, houses, and aid the victims. However,” she said, giving her smile a little bit extra, “some things can’t be done without greasing a few palms.” The reporters began to stir, although this really shouldn’t be news to anyone. “And if padding a few government official’s pockets is the price of making sure houses are built this year, rather than next, ensuring that building supplies can be safely imported, well, it’s SI - and the Avenger’s - position that such an expense is permissible.” Her grin turned just a tad feral. “After all, it’s not SI or the Avenger’s place to meddle in the affairs of a sovereign nation.”
The reporters should have paused. If the world were a marginally fair place, they would have paused and thought about that for a second before raising their hands and clamouring to be the next person picked.
But the world wasn’t a fair place, and Darcy’s answer had barely left her mouth before the reporters were competing to have their questions answered.
Darcy just moved along the line, as she always did. As she always would. You think they’d learn a thing or two by now…
“Miss Lewis, Herald Times,” the reporter, a woman, this time, said, and Darcy nodded, poised. “Are the Avengers going to be doing something to help Hermes and the Ares III crew?”
All poise vanished from Darcy’s face for an instant. For one second, no, for one fraction of a second, Darcy forgot all of the media training Pepper had put her through. Her mind blanked, her stomach dropped, and her heart started pounding in her ears.
Then her brain started working again.
“We’re more than happy to help NASA with anything they need,” Darcy said. The little part of her that analysed what she was saying noticed how wooden she sounded. She also suspected her smile looked rather more pasted on than usual. But she soldiered on. “Unfortunately, as you all know, Thor is on a mission from Asgard and thus unreachable. Also,” here her smile quirked into something real for a fraction of a second, “NASA has some very smart people and is funded by the US government. They know what they’re doing. Which doesn’t stop me from promising that if NASA reaches out, either to SI or to the Avengers, we will do everything in our power to help.” We will. I’ll make sure of it. “And on that note,” she allowed her smile to drop into the more somber expression that was her default these days, “I should say once again how saddened we are at the loss of Mark Watney.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “We can only express our relief feel lucky that the rest of the crew are headed back to Earth safely, and we await their return as eagerly as the rest of the planet.”
Darcy’s phone, sitting neatly face-up on the lectern, buzzed, and a notification lit up the screen.
“I’m sorry,” Darcy said into the microphone, pocketing the phone and smoothing her jacket. “That’s all I have time for today - if you put your questions in writing, I’ll be happy to answer them by the end of the week.” With a nod at the reporters and the cameras, Darcy strode off to the bank of elevators, heels clacking, face beginning to be hidden by her curtain of hair.
The centermost elevator’s doors were open, and closed as soon as she stepped inside.
“Mr. Stark requested your presence, Miss Lewis,” JARVIS said.
“Thanks, J,” Darcy replied. “I got the text. Tell him thanks for getting me out of there.” I’m not sure how many more questions I would have survived after that one.
“Hey kiddo.” Tony’s voice echoed off the elevator walls. “Looked like the press conference was getting ugly.”
“Since when do you watch my press conferences?” Darcy snarked, immediately feeling better.
“Steve had it on. I was supervising,” Tony said blithely.
“Right.” Darcy stepped out of the elevator and straight into Tony’s outstretched arms. Even though Tony was slightly shorter than she was in the heels she was wearing, she still managed to burrow her face into his shoulder, shutting out the world for just a second. She didn’t think Mark would mind. After him, Tony gave the best hugs.
“You doing okay there?” Tony asked, voice muffled as his sweatshirt’s hood fell over Darcy’s head.
Darcy nodded. “Fine.” She pulled away from the billionaire, no-longer playboy philanthropist, then repeated herself. “I’m fine, Tony.” She glanced over his shoulder, at where Steve and Bucky were looking up at her from the sofa. “The reporter just caught me off guard, is all.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “They’re allowed to ask about Ares III. It’s a valid question.” She suddenly felt very old, and very tired, toeing off her heels as she went to grab her seat on the arm of the couch closest to Steve. “I didn’t look like too much of an ass, right?”
“You did fine,” Steve said, giving her the once over himself to make sure she was ok. “Very professional.”
“I could tell you were shaken,” Bucky said, neatly avoiding the elbow his friend threw at him as he continued. “But I don’t think many other people would have. You do this thing where you drum your fingers on the edge of the lectern when you’re getting antsy.”
“Thanks,” Darcy said a bit sarcastically, although the look she shot Bucky was genuinely grateful. Bucky just nodded back.
“Anytime, doll.”
“What he means is that he’s happy to micromanage your microexpressions,” Steve commented.
“Just because you started watching Lie to Me doesn’t mean you’re an expert in reading people, Steve,” Bucky shot back.
“Just because you didn’t know what they were before I pointed them out to you doesn’t mean you’re better than me,” Steve retorted, and Darcy settled into her perch, letting the boys squabble. They were worse than school children, what with the constant pulling of the pigtails. Darcy still wasn’t sure whether it was long-repressed sexual tension or just the product of eighty years and thousands of shared traumatic and nontraumatic experiences, but Steve and Bucky didn’t seem to be able to go a day without bickering.
Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it without thinking.
‘Robert Lewis’
Speaking of brothers. She sighed. Clint was right. I really do need to talk to him. She stood, swiped the phone’s screen to accept the call, and brought it to her ear as Bucky began quoting Paul Eckman at length.
“Hey, Rob.”
“Darcy - I… wasn’t expecting you to pick up.” The nervousness in her brother’s voice made Darcy pause, and then, because she had no filter, she just went on with what she had been going to say in the first place.
“And yet you keep calling.”
Rob chuckled, and, just like that, the tension broke.
“How are you doing, Darce?” he asked, “I saw the press conference - everyone there treating you okay?”