Bygone

They visit Morita first. He lives in southern California with his wife and their two dogs. It’s a quiet place, out away from the city. Darcy knows him well enough to spot all of his equipment, and isn’t surprised when he walks out of a small copse of trees to meet them with a gun strapped to his hip.

“Anthony.” Morita greets with a nod.

Tony says nothing, and Morita doesn’t seem surprised. Tony sits on the porch and plays with his pager while Darcy talks to Morita. He manages to get a laugh out of her.

His wife Naomi leaves them at the small table, after cupping Darcy’s face with both hands. She works in the kitchen with the radio on low, kneading dough. Her long gray hair swishes with each punch.

Naomi and Morita had kept a small apartment in Fresno for years. They’d fit well with the hustle and bustle as they raised their son. Morita had taught the little boy Morse code, and he’d tapped out messages to Morita when he was away, Naomi keeping careful watch. Now Darcy sees a picture of Morita with a young girl in his lap, most likely the granddaughter Darcy had heard about, sitting in front of an electrical telegraph.

It seems they fit just as well out here, in the quiet. Darcy wonders if Naomi still writes. She’d been in the Japanese internment camps during the war, and had been an outspoken civil rights activist ever since. She’d won awards during her years as a journalist, had published several books, and had led protests across the US. Davis Jones had been her intern every summer during high school and undergrad.

“Sorry we’re clocking out on you, Rogers.” Morita says quietly. Darcy turns back to him. He has a tremor in his right arm, so he raises his glass of sweet tea with the other. “But you know we’re still on your team, right?”

Darcy nods, not able to speak. In the kitchen Naomi drops the dough back to the counter with a solid thump.

“Have you seen Peg?”

Darcy nods again, more shortly. He sighs tiredly.

“Take it easy on Peg. She’s not what she used to be. None of us are.” He gives her a small smile. “Except for you.”

“No. Not me.” Darcy swallows. “I’m like all of you. I just look different.”

“If you feel that way, then we’ve all failed.” He takes her hand with his. His skin is soft and wrinkled. His grip is weak. “You’re one of us and over the years you became our heart. You knew that, right?”

“You do realize the heart doesn’t do so well on its own?” Darcy asks him. Organ failure, she thinks. All the rest are failing, and the heart can’t keep going on its own.

Morita laughs. It’s surprisingly hearty sounding. Just like it had been when they were waiting outside a door for the signal to go in and complete the mission and Dum-Dum said something caustic.

“You said something like that before. And I seem to remember you came through just fine.” Morita squeezes her hand. “Something about remembering you Rogers not having the best record with planes.”

Darcy doesn’t say that everything was different then.

“We’re going to be there for you.” Morita says, squeezing her hand. His gaze is intense as he looks at her over the table. In the kitchen, Darcy can see that Naomi has stilled. “You gonna be there for us, Rogers?”

“Always.” Darcy whispers.

The visit with Dum-Dum is short and mostly quiet. He’s living in a retirement community, but he’s long past being one of the residents that uses the fancy tennis courts and professional grade golf course.

They’re led to a large suite with big windows. It’s done up in bold blues, and Darcy catches the scent of Dum-Dum’s cologne as soon as they step through the door.

There is a kitchen and a sitting area, but they’d been told he hasn’t been getting out of bed lately after a bout of the flu.

Dum-Dum is on oxygen and weak. His big fame is shrunken. He smiles tiredly when he sees Darcy and pats her hand.

He only manages to say one thing. She leans close to hear it.

“Don’t hold a candle to you.” He manages, then nods his head to the boxy TV on top of the dresser.

It’s the Miss America evening gown competition. Darcy laughs, but it hurts her, and Tony sticks his head into room. Dum-Dum smiles, pleased with himself, and then he drifts off to sleep. She writes him a letter to read when he wakes, and spying the pair of thick lensed glasses on the table, she writes in large print.

Darcy kisses his forehead and Tony takes her away. People cry in these types of places, and they don’t get any second looks. Tony grabs tissues from a box as they pass and shoves them into her hands.

Falsworth is in a facility in DC. Tony warns her that he’d overheard Howard and Peggy talking about him, and that he’s suffering from dementia.

At Falsworth’s room, when Darcy falters in the doorway, Tony doesn’t even bother to sit outside. Instead he walks in with her and sits next to her, his chair flipped around backwards so he straddles it.

Falsworth’s handsome face is drooping on one side. His hair is a mess, and his arms are strapped down.

He looks at them suspiciously. “Darcy?”

“Hey, Falsworth. You gonna take me up?” Darcy asks around the knot in her throat. “I mean, I’m caught up, To-“

“Howard.” Falsworth nods and Tony goes ramrod straight. “We’re getting out of here. I’ve got a bird out back. Just waiting on Dum-Dum.”

“Okay.” Darcy agrees. “Let me fix your hair. You’ve got stuff in it.”

“Is it blood?” He asks resignedly, his body relaxing.

“It’s blood.” Darcy confirms, finding a comb in one of the drawers. “Peg’ll call you sloppy.”

He’s quiet as Darcy combs his hair, working out several knots. She puts it into the style he’d always preferred.

“There.” Darcy comes around the side of the bed and sees that Falsworth is holding tight to Tony’s hand.

“Think I’m gonna catch some shut-eye. Gotta stay sharp or you’ll steal my job.” Falsworth says.

“Alright. We’ll keep watch.”

“Make sure Gabe gets something to eat. Idiot gave me his MRE.” Falsworth tells her.

Tony is stiff next to her as they walk out of the hospital. Darcy doesn’t say anything as they climb into the car he’d bought and had waiting at the airstrip.

“Is that the end of your goodbye tour?” Tony asks cuttingly as they pull back into the small airport. Their jet gleams, completely out of place on the dinky runway with the small pleasure crafts and crop dusters.

“That’s the end. I’ll have to go back, maybe in a week or so. Morita I can call, but Dum-Dum and Falsworth-“

“Are you a masochist?” Tony demands, ripping his sunglasses off as he jerks the car into a parking spot.

“Just because something hurts doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do. They’re my friends. And they need me.” Darcy says firmly.

“Is that what my father was? Your friend?” The words twist, his tone is bitter and accusing. It has implications and hurt. Howard has always been the sore spot between them.

When Tony was young, it was because Darcy got to stay in the labs while Tony was sent away. As Tony grew, it was because Howard picked up her calls where Tony’s went unanswered until he stopped trying, Howard laughed at her jokes where Tony’s earned sharp looks and retorts about taking things seriously.

It’s Tony’s way to lash out when he’s hurt. There’s a little bit of Howard in that, ironically. Howard had never known when to stand down. Instead of being the rock that holds steady against the current of the river, Howard wasn’t satisfied until he dammed the river and put a vacation home on the shore. Tony gets that from him, but Tony is also hurt and uncertain in a way Darcy never knew Howard to be.

His words can cut, and he goes for the sharpest ones he can find.

“Grow up Tony.” Darcy looks into her lap, at her hands. One of Falsworth’s silver hairs is caught in her wedding rings. “He was an alcoholic, he was a flake, and he was arrogant to the point of hurting those around him, but he was-”

Fuck. Darcy feels her eyes begin to burn. Howard always had a car at Broad and Halls Ferry, if he wasn’t there himself. Howard arranged everything for Darcy – he kept her things over the decades, he handled her finances, he kept her safe and anonymous. When JJ left everything to Howard with a short note, Howard shifted it all into other accounts and made sure Darcy had access.

Howard had brought Maria to her, who despite all her troubles, had always somehow managed to be so steady for both Darcy and Tony.

Darcy climbs out of the car and starts towards the small air control tower to register their flight plans. Tony follows her, is at her side when she yanks open the door.

“Goodbye tour?” She asks him, seething. “You’re an asshole, Tony.”

“I know.”

They make the flight to Malibu in silence, sharing a bag of cheese puffs and some chocolates from France. Because Tony.