Bygone

As she walks, the skin pulls tight at the bandages, and underneath them. The sting is grounding, cutting through cottony feel of her mind after having been buried in the text on her tablet for the last several hours. After thinking of Steve.

She’s not sure she really slept at all, more she’d been lost in her thoughts. Whatever Sten had given her, it had seemed to dull anxiety and adrenaline. Her breaths had come easy and deep. The room had felt cocooned away from the rest of the world.

She wouldn’t call it pleasant – she could tell that something was wrong. She couldn’t follow certain thoughts to their conclusions. Her mind had shied away from them. Even as she couldn’t find it in her to care very much, she’d been displeased.

Still, certain thoughts made sense. It was easy to make connections. Harder to examine the what ifs. Logic, maybe. Logic in a world where nothing could go wrong, which is not the world Darcy lives in.

It had helped with the heavy, sluggish feeling that had plagued her from the second she woke up in the lab. A metaphorical otherworldly shot of espresso after a hell of a metaphorical otherworldly all-nighter.

In the full living room, Darcy recognizes everyone except for one younger man. He’s seated at Rebecca’s piano in front of the windows. His hands move softly but deftly over the keys, picking out a complicated and lovely tune effortlessly.

It’s very strange, seeing so many people in the apartment. She’s never had more than three people in it total, before today. Now Meg Morita picks her way towards an arm chair laden with various computers and tablets, wearing a backwards Giants cap and carrying a glass of green liquid. Despite having a compact build, with narrow shoulders and hips, there is nothing graceful or light-footed about the way she moves.

Darcy recognizes the man leaning next to the piano as the Jones from the ambulance after the Bugatti wreck. The Asgardians are fixing plates at the dining room table. Maggie is sorting through a mountain of black tactical bags.

“Lady Darcy!” Sif beams from her spot next to the dining room table, a full plate in her hand. “It is good to see you looking so well.”

Maggie raises both brows at Darcy and crosses the room. “Darcy, let me introduce you to the team. You might remember Meg Morita?”

Meg toasts Darcy with her glass, then returns to her computers.

“Timothy Jones is at the piano.” Maggie continues, and the man jumps to his feet to shake Darcy’s hand. He knocks one of Meg’s tablets off it’s precarious perch on an end table, but manages to snag it and seems unaffected by Meg’s hiss. “And you didn’t officially meet your namesake, Lewis Jones.”

The Jones from the ambulance steps forward with a smile that is one hundred percent Gabe’s. The skin crinkles at his eyes as he shakes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you for real, finally.”

“Polly Dernier is en route. She was in South Africa. My cousin Sharon is coming from Germany.” Maggie motions towards the dining room table. “Why don’t we sit, and I can familiarize you with the team.”

Hogun pulls Darcy’s chair out for her and Sten pours her a fresh glass of water from a pitcher in the middle of the table. Or at least, it looks like water.

“No more medicines for now. However, after your meal I will need to take a look at the wound and apply a poultice.” Sten nods in a way that is almost a bow, then walks into the kitchen.

“Please do not take offense at my advice, Lady, but in my experience it is best to avoid red meat after partaking of the mind medicine.” Sif nudges a plate of roasted chicken towards Darcy.

“You’ve taken it before?” Darcy suddenly realizes how hungry she is. The over-laden table doesn’t seem so over-laden anymore. Especially considering that Sif just took five sandwiches and enough mashed potatoes for a family of four. And Hogun is eating directly out of what remains of the serving bowl of mashed potatoes. They both sit in an almost defiant kind of way, and Darcy guesses it's their way of making it clear they aren't going to leave during Maggie's debriefing.

“Aye. You would be hard pressed to find a warrior who has many years on the battlefield and has not required the gentle easing of their thoughts. It is an interruption that encourages the healing of the spirit, is it not?” Sif plucks up a blue bowl JJ had sent her from Paris and sets it closer to Darcy. It's filled with green beans.

Darcy nods. Considering she was pretty sure she’d been seconds away from a panic attack, she can definitely understand the mind medicine would be a useful tool in treating those fresh from the fight.

She’d seen battle fatigued soldiers, as they’d called it then. The more old school soldiers had called it shell shock

Darcy follows Sif’s advice and sticks to chicken and vegetables. There’s also tapenade, and eggplant wraps. Maggie explains that Meg’s body is a temple, unless there’s some serious hacking to be done. Then it’s all cooler ranch Doritos, all the time. Maggie takes the seat next to Darcy, setting a tablet next to Darcy’s plate. Maggie presses her palm to it.

“We’ll get it logged with your hand print later. This is your docket on the team. Things have become a little more convoluted since the fall of SHIELD. Maria Hill is currently the director of new SHIELD, although Phil Coulson operates a splinter team.” Maggie explains. “I’m currently Head of Defense under Maria.”

Maggie taps a few things, and Darcy is looking down at Maggie’s personnel file. Unredacted, as far as she could see. She’d have to check later to see if the back doors she’d programmed in still existed.

“Meg is my right hand, still the best hacker I know.” Maggie flicks from file to file. “Polly specializes in heavy artillery and explosives, she’s currently independent contract. We miss her skill, but it’s a better fit for her.”

“She means that Polly lives to blow shit up, and didn’t handle it well when SHIELD called for an explosions specialist, just in case.” Lewis explains, and when Maggie rolls her eyes he winks at her. “Now everyone just has to expect that if you call on Polly, shit’s getting blown up whether the situation changes or not.”

“Thank you, Lewis.” Maggie flicks again. “Lewis here is a Field Officer with SHIELD, he’s also our best contact with Coulson’s team. He’s good with people, and good at facilitating interdepartmental or cross organization cooperation. Very useful, if annoying.”
“Can I get an amen?” Meg calls.

“Megsie is just pissed my Dodgers owned the Giants. It was damn near a sweep.” Lewis confides.

“Don’t call me Megsie. Damn near is nothing, and besides you’re exaggerating, as usual. You’re not even a real fan, so I don’t want to hear it.” Meg doesn’t look up from her various screen, typing rapidly.

“Maybe, maybe, I started rooting for the Dodgers to spite her-“

“You grew up in Georgia and you hate sports.” Meg interrupts.

“But I’ve been a diehard Dodgers fan for eight years now.” Lewis finishes, like Meg hadn’t spoken.

“Moving on,” Maggie says, drawing Darcy’s attention back to the lap top, “The baby of the family, Tim is a specialist in personal protection. Best in his class at hand-to-hand, by a landslide.”

Darcy laughs under her breath, remembering Maggie’s adequate shooting, and looks back into the living room. Tim is now holding Meg’s cords with one hand, the other hand is absently twirling a knife while he focuses on Judge Judy on the TV.

“So Peggy would say he’s adequate?” Darcy asks.

Maggie looks up, and then Darcy gets to watch the words click into place. A slow smile blooms, at Darcy’s wittiness in remembering something from so long ago. It’s a familiar sight, but she never seems to learn and still makes the quips.

“Capable, probably.” Maggie grins. Another tap on the tablet, and Darcy is looking at Sharon Carter’s file. “We’ve also got my cousin Sharon. Second cousin, actually. Did you ever meet my grandma’s youngest brother Ed? He didn’t get married until he was fifty. Had Sharon a few years later.”

“She’s stubborn, didn’t want any connections to the family in her career. After SHIELD fell she went CIA, so it’s been complicated getting her here now that she’s in the circle.” Lewis explains. He leans closer, “Also, Megsie still hasn’t forgiven her for going CIA.”

“Their encryption is shit, okay? Plus they’re choked by politics, they have paperwork for their paperwork, and half the time they show up it’s like clown school.” Meg shoves a tablet away and pulls a laptop closer. “But you know Sharon, can’t listen to anyone.”

“Now that she’s in circle?” Darcy asks, seeing that Sharon is only a couple years younger than Meg.

“Like Lewis said, she didn’t want any connections to the family. Work and home life separation.” Maggie shrugs a shoulder. “Once she earned her place in SHIELD she got the same side-op package as the rest of us. She just didn’t open it. It was only a couple months after Grandma died that she did.”

“Sharon doesn’t take any bullshit, and sometimes that makes her rigid. But if things go to hell? You want her at your side.” Lewis refills his water and tips the pitcher towards Darcy. She notices he’s missing the top half of his pinky and ring fingers on his left hand, and he catches her looking. “Polly. I was eleven, she was fourteen. She lost all hearing in her right ear.”

“Why don’t look you this over.” Maggie hands over the tablet. “I’ve also got a grab bag for you. Stark kind of took it over, wouldn’t let me open it without him present. It’s got a print scanner there on the side, keyed to you.”

“I think the healer wants another look at you.” Lewis nods his head towards the kitchen door way.

Darcy nods at Sten and abandons her now empty plate. Hogun nods at her as he leaves the kitchen.

It isn’t pleasant getting the bandage off, and the poultice is even worse. It sizzles, and while there isn’t a burning sensation per se, the stinging sensation along with the soundtrack makes for a shitty time. There is also the sharp scent of copper, almost strong enough to make her tongue curl like she’d licked a battery.

She does have to admit the wound looks pretty damn good – more along the lines of a week into healing instead of hours.

It’s definitely a little more tender when she walks back out into the living room. Hogun looks like he’s going to die if she sits on the floor instead of taking his seat, so she drags her grab bag over to it.