Bygone

On January 23rd, 1992 no one answers her call at the mansion. She catches a cab from the apartment and goes to Stark Industries.

She is once again escorted straight up to Howard’s office and left with a sandwich tray and drinks. She waits for two hours, and is about to go demand to know where Howard is so she can kick his ass for scaring her, when the door opens and Peggy walks in.

Darcy knows that look. She braces herself.

“Oh darling. I’m so sorry.” Peggy says, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. It was a car accident.”

“Tony?”

“No, you still have him.” Peggy comes over and brushes a wrinkled hand over Darcy’s cheek. “Maria was smarter than I ever gave her credit for, I’m afraid I’m slipping. You still have Tony, and I’m afraid he rather needs you too.”

Darcy sits in Howard’s chair. Steve had carried her from the alley, and he’s gone. Howard had carried her from the stoop, and he’s gone.

After Rebecca she’d had JJ.

And now after Howard she’s got Tony. It’s not the same, and she’s not the same. Not without Howard.

“I’ve got something for you.” Peggy says, setting a folder on the desk. “I’m afraid we failed you a bit, and now we’re... We’ll I’ve retired. Howard and Maria are gone. We’ve lost Gabe and Jacques. Falsworth is in a facility upstate.”

Darcy starts shaking.

“Oh, come here, dear girl.” Peggy wraps an arm around her. “I’ve done my best by you these past few years, and so did Howard. You’ve got the apartment building. A dummy company owns it. R Circle, Inc.”

“In this packet you’ve got your bank accounts, your inheritances, identification paperwork for a solid identity, and a few contacts. For as long as I’m able, you can count on me to pull any strings you might need.” Peggy pats her arm. “Are you listening? You are not alone, Darcy.”

Darcy flips open the folder. Right at the top is a birth certificate. Darcy Barnes, born 1974. She shuts the folder again.

“Howard would hate to see you like this. So, you are going to get up, you are going to track down Anthony, and you are going to live, do you hear me?” Peggy stands and knocks on the top of the desk. “The boy gambled the entire company on a roll of the dice. The idiot won, but.... Darcy. He’s hurting just as you are. He needs you.”

Darcy nods and slowly stands.

“There you are. I’ve booked you a flight to LA. An old friend of mine. He’s been instructed to get you all caught up. The key is to stay busy, I’ve always found.”

Darcy nods again, picking up the folder and her purse.

“I’ll take you as far as the airport. I’ll tell you about Sharon. I think you’ll like her.”

Peggy was right about keeping busy on the flight at least. Other than that, Darcy is glad to be out of her company. Peggy had seemed so ready to help Darcy brush Howard and Maria’s deaths under the rug.

To put it in the past. And to just toss in Gabe and Jacques like that. Like a mission report. It’s her way, Peg always kept it together, could always be counted on to be getting what needed to be done, done.

Howard had been good with that trait of Peggy’s, but Darcy isn’t. Peggy can compartmentalize, and sometimes Darcy just can’t. Darcy feels things, and she deals with that.

Peggy’s friend is able to lead her straight to Tony. Or at least, to the party Tony is at. Darcy moves through the house, numb to it all. Numb to the half naked people, numb to the sight of two women doing cocaine on the coffee table, and numb to the man that runs into her and spills beer on her.

She finds him in the living room, sprawled on a couch with a bottle of liquor in hand. A man is yelling at him, saying enough is enough. The man is perhaps the only sober person in the building, because Darcy is not counting herself. Not in this state.

She mostly stumbles down the stairs and comes to a stop in front of the couch. The other man looks at her, then goes back to yelling at Tony.

But Tony is looking at her through bleary eyes. He blinks twice and narrows them. Then he unsteadily climbs to his feet, shaking off his friend’s attempt to help. He’s taller. Definitely more filled out. He tips forward and wraps his arms around her, suddenly sobbing.

His friend keeps them from falling down, and Darcy is crying with him. The friend leads them out of the house and to a waiting car. There are cameras flashing and people yelling. They want to know what Maria would think. What Tony is going to do with SI.

They practically fall into the backseat.

Tony pulls himself together a little in the car. His arm remains clamped around Darcy, his face planted in her shoulder. Darcy holds onto him just as tightly, unable to stop the tears that just keep rolling down her face.

When the friend opens the car door, Tony stumbles out ahead, pulling her along. They’re in a cavernous garage that’s empty except for four other cars, all shining in the fluorescent lights and crazy expensive looking.

Tony weaves as he walks, pulling her ahead so she’s under his arm. He smells. He’s damp with sweat all over. When she looks up into his face, his pupils are tiny pinpricks in his eyes.

He sways on the elevator, but his friend seemed to anticipate it and had clamped a hand on his shoulder as the doors slid shut.

In the apartment on the top floor, Tony stumbles down three steps into a sunken living room, then up them on the other side, towing Darcy along into the bedroom.

It’s a mess. Clothes and plates of half eaten food and magazines are everywhere. He stops and stares at the bed, then fists a hand in the sheets and pulls them off with one hand. The pillows go too, and then he pulls her onto the bare mattress.

Tony hauls her closer and curls around her, like he can block the world out. Darcy shoves her face into his neck and tries to let him.

She wakes up sweaty and feeling hung over even though she hadn’t had anything to drink. She’d woken up crying twice. The second time Tony had woken up too. He’d thrown up into a trash can next to the bed, then wiped her tears away clumsily.

“It’s okay. We’ll make it okay. Take care of each other.” He’d slurred. “Just like Mom said.”

She wakes up to orange colored light. The thick drapes are blocking out most of the sun outside. Darcy pulls carefully away from Tony, but his arms twitch and he grasps her tight.

“I wanna take a shower. I’m not going anywhere.” She promises him, kissing his forehead.

“Shower.” He repeats.

“Yes. I want one.” Darcy taps his bicep. “Which means you need to let go.”

“Mmmmph.”

But he loosens his grip, leaving Darcy to pick her way through the trashed bedroom. She steps over a pile of Chinese take-out containers and a bright red bra.

The attached bathroom is black and gold.

It is aggressively 90s. Darcy stops a few steps inside. There is a pair of teal women’s panties in one of the sinks, a line of white power on the counter, and a used condom on the floor just outside the shower.

She backtracks through the bedroom and goes to the next door. It opens into a bedroom with rumpled bed sheets and a pizza box on the pillows. The bathroom is in better condition, looking untouched by whatever party had been going on.

Darcy mechanically washes her hair with the fancy shampoo and conditioner. There is no razor, so she doesn’t shave. She pulls her sweater and ankle pants back on, then stops and leans her head against the mirror.

She can hear Howard’s voice. Hey kid.

“Damn it Howard. You’re supposed to pick me up at Broad and Halls Ferry. You’re supposed to call Rebecca and John so I have all the right things to wear.” Darcy whispers. “Peggy sucks at this.”

She leans back and looks at herself. She looks horrible. Her wet hair hangs in ropes around her face, her eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed. Her skin has no color.

Steve wouldn’t recognize her.

There’s a thump from the room next door and she lets out a gasping breath. Tony.

“Howard, you are such an asshole for going along with Maria on this.” Darcy says, voice hoarse. “Stupid asshole genius. You knew we’d be like this. You knew we’d both be alone.”

Darcy bites her lip and glares at herself. “Pull it together, Rogers. You’ve still got people. You’ve got to go see Falsworth.”

When she goes back out into the living room, she can smell breakfast smells. And coffee. It’s enough to have her approaching Tony’s friend in the kitchen.

“What the hell was he on?” Darcy asks after her first sip.

The man is in fighting shape, and his posture is one she recognizes. He’s military. Hopefully not of the jack booted thug variety.

He’s holding a spatula when he turns. He looks her up and down. “What wasn’t he on?”

Darcy nods, thinking of the line of white powder in his bathroom.

“My turn?” The man asks, flicking off the burner. “Who the hell are you?”

“My sister.” Tony says, wincing as he comes down the steps. “Why did I not fill this in? It’s exhausting.”

“Sister?” The man repeats.

“It’s complicated.” Tony says with a wave of his hand.

The man sighs. “Complicated?”

“If Uncle Sam asks, are you willing to lie?” Tony steals Darcy’s coffee cup. He takes only their agreed upon sip for fortitude, then moves on to getting his own.

The man curses under his breath.

“So, so complicated.” Darcy says, and something that he sees when he’s looking back at her has his frustration fading away. She feels kind of dead. She wonders if he can see that? She feels ancient. Her bones are made of spun glass, her skin is thin paper.

“We’re going to the new house.” Tony says. “Take it easy, get some work done.”

“I have to make a few stops.” She has to track down Dum-Dum, see Falsworth in whatever facility he’s in, find Morita.

Tony’s hand wraps around hers. “I’ll go with you.”

James Rhodes really cares about Tony. It’s obvious when he sees them off at the airport. How he doesn’t really trust her, but he’s trusting Tony. The way he tells her to take care of him.

“We take care of each other.” Darcy tells him, stripped of her ability to lie. She can’t take another JJ.

Tony walks past them, his arms overflowing with snacks from the vending machine. “Road trip! See ya, Rhodey.”

“Only Tony,” James says, watching his friend throw snacks up into the cockpit. “He’s coming off a bender, I don’t know how much he’s got in him, you might have to stop over-“

“James. I taught his ass how to fly.” Darcy interrupts. “We’ve got this.”

“Jim.” He corrects.

“Seey-ya Jim.” Darcy gives him a lazy salute. He watches them leave with a worried look.