Darcy Lewis

@ask-the-assistant-darcy

You know, it was actually impressive that Hydra was still around. Carol didn’t know everything about them, just what anyone would learn from history (both old and recent). A bunch of crazies who’d once been loyal to Nazi Germany until their ambitions outgrew even Hitler’s. They’d been struck down by Cap twice, but both times, apparently they’d somehow survived.

           With the world reeling from the Snap, they’d made their move. It hadn’t been immediate, Romanoff’s report revealing Hydra had gone through a surge of recruiting, citing the Avengers’ failure as a rallying cry. People were angry, and that anger made them easy to manipulate. They wanted someone to blame, and Hydra gleefully pointed a finger towards the heroes.

Hydra had stepped out of the shadows once again, this time planning on making gains. So Carol had come to help remind bastards to stay dead and gone.

           Captain Marvel was sent across the globe, to a speck of nowhere near the Russian-Mongolian border. There was precious little out here, flatland divided by train tracks and dotted by trees. It was a hilly landscape, pocketed by rises that were almost mountainous, but nothing extreme. With no one around, it made an ideal spot for a Hydra base. And there would have been little reason for any Avenger to come out here.

           Except that someone had broadcasted a distress signal. It’d been disabled shortly there-after, but Romanoff had managed to get the general vicinity of the beacon and sent Carol to investigate. For the last hour, she’d been zooming around, searching for anything that’d be out of place.

           And she’d found it, at last. What looked like a manhole cover from above, was actually a decently sized metal blast door set into the ground, surrounded by cracked and mottled concrete. From ground level, no one would have ever spotted it. Long grass and brush that gave the flatland some variety obscured it entirely from sight.

           Carol arched a brow as she floated above it. She wondered how strong that door was.

           Well, there was only one way to find out. Her mask materialised over her face and she dove downwards.

Turns out, the door wasn’t that strong.

           And apparently, Hydra really didn’t like when someone broke into their bunkers.  Shouting, alarms, and bullets greeted the woman almost immediately. She scowled at her assailants, blasting a wide stream of energy down a hallway before continuing on her exploration of the facility.

           It wasn’t an overly large complex. Three levels, the bottom of which was reserved for captives and what Carol could only assume were rooms for interrogation. The doors on each cell were quite solid, steel, with a sliding flap for food delivery. Most were either empty, or the prisoner had met an untimely end in one of the ‘examination’ rooms. Her hope of finding whoever sent the message was dwindling quickly.

           Until it came to the last. Carol thought she heard banging coming from inside. She gave the sturdy barrier a funny look.

           She opened the hatch, “if someone’s in here, move to the side.”

           Danvers stared at the cell door, energy dancing around her figure before she charged. The obstacle buckled and flew into the wall, landing uselessly on the floor. She looked over at the stranger.

           “Hey,” she raised her hands, hoping to convey she was a friend. The glow around Carol began to dwindle as she stepped into the doorway. “Are you alright?”

There were times when it really sucked to have to struggle on without Jane. Darcy had thought her life had changed when she met Jane, and in turn met Thor, and while it was true everything was wildly different without her best friend. She still had nightmares about trying to get to her and having her turn into dust the moment her fingers grazed skin. Everyone was calling it The Snap but personally sometimes she thought The FU felt more like it.

It felt like something out there had personally said “fuck you” to the whole planet.

Why else would half the population be gone? Because someone had pissed in their cheerios and they were a baby. It was her own theory at any rate.

So Darcy had tried to keep on going with Jane’s work, needing to believe that she would be back for it. Also that she’d be pissed if it went into disarray; well, she didn’t believe that Jane would be pissed if it went into disarray, she knew it. That was all well and good until some Hydra turds thought she could build or replicate some of Jane’s work. Good as she was now about understanding and compiling the data a lot of the work still rested in Jane’s super smart brain.

She might be able to maintain some of Jane’s more creative machines but there was no way she could build her own. Duct tape and a lot of faith were staples in her tool box.

So now she was here in this tiny little cell, knowing damn well that she was time-limited. She had been tinkering with some stuff to hopefully fool the fools into thinking that she knew something but actually set out a beacon to let the Avengers know that she was in trouble. Granted it was really for Jane but she had been the one to keep track of it, but at the moment she didn’t really care either way. Darcy had hoped that it wouldn’t be noticed since something in the room was sending signals in her tinkering but it had been and she had been treated to the most breathtaking form fear tactics she had ever witnessed.

It was the most they had done to her, aside from the bruises and cuts she had gotten from the initial kidnapping when she had fought back...and the whole everyone looks armed and like they could kill you thing.

When she heard alarms go off and everyone start making all kinds of noise she hoped that meant help was here, and at this point she didn’t care who it was. Hydra was losing patience and she had this feeling that it was only a matter of time how before they started more...physical means of getting what they wanted.

Darcy was silent for a while, just listening to what was happening before it quieted down some, it was then that she started to smack the steel door of her cell. Trying to make a racket so that whomever was storming the castle knew she was trapped. When the door for food was opened she stepped back from the door in surprise, the look quickly morphing into confusion.

“To the side?” Isn’t it usually ‘get back’?

Whatever more important things to worry about, badass lady must know what she was talking about and so she moved to the side and promptly watched the door fly into the cell in a crinkled mess.

The steel door...crumpled like a piece of cardboard that had seen one too many moves.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, wide eyes going from what used to be a steel door to the woman who was glowing--oh and now she isn’t as much.

She saw the gesture, and some part of her registered the words but she was just staring at her, brain desperately trying to reboot. Going from trapped and uncertain to watching a door fly across a room and getting the hell outta here did a number on her.

“Physically, mentally, or emotionally?” She responded at last, gotta love humor as a coping mechanism. Honestly she was pretty proud that she wasn’t on the floor, or totally losing her shit right now.

So i changed my hair and i realized that i haven't shown anyone on here!

“Well, I suppose we’re even…I don’t think mine are very interesting either. Except the boots, I do like the boots quite a bit.”

This is incredibly irrelevant, but Anakin is a terrible mixture of being awful at small-talk and being socially deprived. There is an absurd freedom in opining even to a child, the same sort of freedom there is with the Clones…and he consciously realizes neither. It isn’t a recognition of the safety and simplicity present in such exchanges, just the sensation of it, and the desire to talk more.

At least, in this conversation, he has both an objective and a whole galaxy of lurking horror and suspicion to keep him somewhat less chatty than he definitely could be.

Case in point: this with his clothing. It has him trying to fight the expression of confusion and heightened worry for a moment, as it is undoubtedly not good that she does not recognize him for what he is. It would have been bad before the war, but now? The Jedi are everywhere. He, quite specifically, is everywhere. Anakin passed another uncomfortable holo of himself on the side of a building on the way here, he’s far too recognizable anymore. There are children’s toys of his starfighters, children dress as Jedi for play, and everyone has an opinion on the Order.

How, then, does this child not know?

He makes an attempt to answer less like it isn’t odd, more like it isn’t the oddest thing he’s ever been asked. Part honesty, part not wanting to make her feel weirder, and part the reality that it is not, in fact, the weirdest thing he’s ever been asked. That would go to a holonet reporter name Ayl and an deeply inappropriately timed inquiry yelled over the top of other reporters’ heads regarding the physically romantic lives of Jedi. Put far less politely and far less vaguely.

“We all wear things like this, the Jedi. You don’t know any Jedi, though, do you? Um…we use the Force-like what you did when you moved those things without touching them-to keep peace and uphold the laws of the Republic in the galaxy.”

It’s a gross simplification of the Order and the Force, which he has to assume she is also unaware of, and one that he does not entirely agree with. However, it’s an answer, it’s informative, it’s enough for right now.

“Because, I might end up anywhere in the galaxy unexpectedly, so, the …” what did she call it? “Cloak is warm without being hot, resists weather to a degree, and dries quickly when it doesn’t. It’s useful. Everything has to be…useful.”

Less than thrilled acceptance, but acceptance all the same. Besides, bitching about the Order isn’t a great idea, particularly not to outsiders, and Dariya is about as much outside of the Order as one can get, not knowing that it even exists, apparently.

There are also more important things, like asking her about the scientists, what role they play in her life. Her training. Necessary information that might build more of the scaffolding of her. Necessary information that he all but pleads with the Force to not be in the vein of what he’s too correctly surmising about her.

He hasn’t any other explanation, and once she answers him, there cannot be any other explanation. Before her answer, actually. The rapid mulling over of giving an answer, then what answer. The reasonable mistrust colored around its edges with something less normal, something that went well with the idea he’s had himself only moments prior; one does not share information with outsiders.

Anakin is nodding in acknowledgement, as though this is not something makes him feel like he is dropping from what appears to be street level to the miles below where one might actually find dirt. Perfectly normal. Not sickening.

At least he gets some help with his less than perfect charade; a passing speederbike. It shouldn’t be here, he’s aware because he frequently flaunts all of Coruscant’s traffic laws himself. Every now and then, it isn’t a situation he can entirely get away with on the grounds of being a Jedi, thus, obviously, engaged in some important business. He knows…and he also knows that random citizens seem to have the idea that Jedi care about such things. As though they have nothing better to do than to chide beings for traffic violations like droids.

The speederbike sees Anakin about the time he cannot help himself but to look, he does rather like them and he feels like he is going insane, five seconds of visual interest might be a good thing. And when the purple, tentacled being on the speeder sees that they are about to pass within inches of a Jedi who has been recorded throwing and crumpling multiple CIS droids with the Force like its no more effort than breathing…they, entirely within reason to everyone who isn’t Anakin or Dariya in the entire universe, startle a bit. Enough that the speeder precariously rocks in the air, nearly gets exactly the attention its owner didn’t want by losing control and heading for them.

It’s, at most, three seconds, but in that three seconds, Anakin looks neither amused nor entirely there at all. His gloved fingers twitch, in the Force, they’ve already found the optimum place for seizing the speederbike’s frame in order to turn it away. When that isn’t necessary, they flutter again, almost as though they’re disappointed with this inaction.

Eyes back to Dariya before the speeder has made it entirely by them, it’s easier to keep playing at not being perturbed now that he’s had a minor reprieve from it.

“I feel like you probably are the best in your program…if you have such…attentive training and monitoring. And, it does matter that you want to be the best, of course. I have to be the best, too.”

There are thousands of Jedi, even if there are hundreds less than there were two years ago, but there is only one Anakin. He might not believe this Chosen One thing, but some of them do. And what if they were right? Regardless, there will always be some safety in being the best, no matter how many times he has to fail at learning the lesson that such rules do not apply to the Order, where it is more often than not purely subjective what things like ‘best’ even are.

It does not appear that ideas like ‘best’ are ideas for Dariya, they’re not subjective. They’re quantifiable by her scientists. However, his tone has been one of understanding, a somewhat shared experience that he does not elaborate on further.

Not that he would have been inclined to at this junction, the whole thing sounding increasingly mad the farther one got away from the Jedi Order, but with her questioning the war, it goes out of his mind entirely. What enters in its place is itself a bit of madness, his immediate thought of, are you from the Unknown Regions?

That seems incredibly improbable, but not being from the known galaxy is the way he can imagine someone not knowing of the war, the Jedi, and the Force.

This time, he doesn’t immediately give her an answer, he asks his own question first. One of those clarifying sorts of questions, touched with more curiosity than it is anything harsh.

“Is there not a war where you’ve come from? There has been one here for years now. See, it would be polite if a generous donation of a fancy dinner was considered a part of the war effort because I’m a General in the Grand Army of the Republic in that war. And where you are now…it’s the center of the whole Republic.”

An explanation of the joke he’d made, along with an answer, even if it is a low on details. Though, it doesn’t look like it will remain so for long, in giving this explanation, Anakin has fully taken on that look of an inherent sort of benevolence. The look he’s taken on more than once now before offering her something. Be that food or an answer or assistance.

And with the relief of Dariya agreeing to come along with him, it comes. Nodding, smiling, internal animation become external and all. Then again, it could very well be the offer of her hand. No, it’s absolutely this thing that translates to Anakin as being acceptable and safe, and feels like being charged with a divine mission. Important, in a way that he would be unable to make anyone at the Temple understand, to carefully take up that offer, like she might inexplicably be composed of bird bones. All precious things are glass and bird bones, after all.

“In that case, I can tell you more about the war while we walk…or the Jedi…or…whatever, if you want,” he offers, finally, starting on a journey sure to feel longer than usual to him for the care he’s exercising in not walking too quickly.

It does become evident, likely to Dariya’s relief as much as Anakin’s, if for quite different reasons, that she is not going to break quite that easily; holding her hand melds into something infinitely more normal by the time he’s speaking again. Which is to say, not very long at all.

“We’re going to walk just a little farther, then, we’ll catch a ride. It won’t take very long at all…view’s really nice on the way up to the apartment, too.”

Anakin does not say anything about this elevated view perhaps giving her some idea of where she was, something familiar. Not this time, quite possibly, never again. The easiest, most logical explanation is now a flaming wreck, and maybe, children do appear out of nowhere.

As much as it annoyed her afterwards, Dariya was still a child and prone to having her attention snagged by things it shouldn’t at times. This was one of those times. There was no reason to look at his boots, but at his mention of them and how he liked them her attention was diverted to the article of clothing in question, nodding her head.

“They are cool.”

And they were interesting, but about as interesting as the rest of his outfit. Which is to say the whole thing was something far from her realm of experience. It was possible she supposed that it was just something she hadn’t learned about yet, there was a lot of knowledge out there. It was just as possible that the Red Room decided it wasn’t important information and so had decided not to say anything about it at all. But people that went around wearing cloaks and boots like that had to be a subject of conversation, right?

You would stand out like a sore thumb if someone brought up these people and you had no idea what they were talking about. So it probably wasn’t the Red Room, if anything they would have briefed anyone going on missions about it. In  turn she would have heard about it because of who her parents were and they tended to share things like that if there was no harm in it. Although sometimes it didn’t matter because she wanted to know and she had long since figured out that her father was a bit of a soft touch at times.

That was a word she had never heard before and she shook her head to confirm Anakin’s suspicion that she had never met any Jedi, she didn’t even know what the word was supposed to mean. Before she even finished filing away the word ‘jedi’ she was thrown for another loop that she hadn’t been expecting. She did that? Brows rose and eyes widened before both turned down in disbelief. There was no way that she could’ve done that, she knew very well what she was capable of and no one back home could do anything like that. Of that she was very sure.

“I know that a force moved those objects but it wasn’t me.” With no understanding of what the Force even was it was hard to accept the idea that she had moved those objects without even touching them. Despite the strange feelings that she had gotten ever since she had opened her eyes here.

There was a soft hum of understanding and a nod at his words, everything did need to be useful. If it wasn’t why have it to begin with? If she hadn’t proved herself she wouldn’t be here today, its just the way things were. Then again everything had it uses, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious, like random bits of information.

For a moment after she answers his question he looks off and she gets the sense that in that moment that he isn’t all there with her. It reminds her of the look that her father gets sometimes, her mother too, but it isn’t quite the same. Like hes gone somewhere she can’t follow, only with Anakin it doesn’t seem like its inside himself, it is more like he...expanded? Not quite outside of himself but it is definitely not the ‘inside’ feel that her parents gave off.

His attention turned back to her and she couldn’t help but to puff up a little in pride. He reminded her of her father and he was praising her. She was the best--she was also the only one but that was besides the point--but there was no way for him to know that. He also had to be the best in his program.

“I am. I’ve been the victor in all of my peer matches, I’ve only lost against the adults in the three v ones.”

Granted she was getting better and the only times her life was in danger was in the peer matches. Well, danger was a bit of a stretch, she posed more of a danger to her opponent than they did to her. Dariya was being groomed in ways most of the other girls couldn’t be, yet anyways. While she wants to ask if he has to be the best Jedi she knows the leeway to do so has not been given to her.

Dariya shook her head in response to Anakin’s question, because at the moment there was not. That was likely going to change in the next year or two but things were still being prepared as far as she could figure out while sneaking around the vents, listening to conversations she wasn’t maybe supposed to hear.

Knowing that he was a General sent a shiver down her spine because most military men she had known did not behave like Anakin but there was also a sense of relief mixed in. He existed in a structure like the one she was in, her instinct to make him her handler for now was indeed a good idea, if she could not go home she could adapt to this place.

“I’m in a Republic? ...I’m far from home.” Regardless if she was still were she was supposed to be any Republic was hundreds of miles away from where she was supposed to be, last time she had heard news of the government they were still a communist party.

The fact that he took her hand surprised her for a moment, she really hadn’t thought he would do that. The surprise is tempered by how he is holding it. Anakin spoke to her so easily as if he was used to interacting with kids her age but the way he handled her suggested otherwise. Dariya wasn’t sure what to make of the difference.

She obediently starts to follow, and starts to relax more as well what with a plan of sorts in place. It was then that she noticed that this place was not only visually different but it also sounded and smelled different as well. Now that she wasn’t overwhelmed anymore she could process her surroundings more instead of pushing it all to the side to focus on other more important and immediate things.

It smells a lot like the other cities she has been to before, but there is something different that she can’t quite place and it feels like something is missing but that also eludes her. The sounds of the things in the air also make vaguely traffic noises but it is also quite different than what she is used to. It is unsettling and she is relived when Anakin no longer holds her hand quite so gently but how she is used to her hand being held.

“Why did you stop being a Jedi and become a General?” He must’ve because while he said ‘we’ when referring to the Jedi he also said he was a General in an army and peace keeping was at odds with war. Unless republic didn’t mean what she thought it did...

As she walks her gaze moves around curiously, taking in all of the things she had missed in her frantic run to get somewhere quiet and safe. It moves from Anakin to the things in the air, the buildings around them, the people as well, and back to him, then starts all over. Its all so strange and she is trying to gather as much information as she can on her surroundings. 

“Why are you at war? Is there something you want?” That was what it usually was when the Red Room had her go out. Granted it wasn’t for war, but she knew it was coming, that she’d be fighting, and whatever she was after would be used to get them closer to their goal. 

I am done christmas shopping. good lord.

now just gotta wrap everything and make candies.

So for reasons passing understanding tumblr mobile is (still) an untrustworthy shiny turd. I love not actually getting notifications when I check, thank you. Though to be fair I’m not sure why I trusted in the first place.

Also I have lost all sense of time and space.

I’m sorry.

I’m honestly not sure when the last time it was that I actually got on my computer and got on tumblr proper. So if stuff has gone unnoticed I promise you it wasn’t intentional, it was literally that I had no idea. (again we’d like like to thank tumblr mobile for working so. well.)

Anyways.

I think it was sometime in August and well, lets just say some stuff has happened. I’m not sure how long this is gunna be so the rest is under a readmore.

There is talk of death and covid for those that wish to avoid.

There’s some sort of poetic justice in this, in her daughter being the one to call her home. To bring her in. Natasha found it amusing, but kept that fact to herself. She doubted very much if Darcy would find it the same. This was a serious moment, one that Natasha realized should have happened months ago. Running because you’re scared accomplishes nothing, she knew that before, but didn’t want to see it, not until she was forced to as she had been here and now.

LA was a nice place to visit, but decidedly not a place Natasha would think of putting roots down, perhaps further up the coast, maybe San Francisco, but LA is almost too much, it’s work alone that brought her here and nothing else.

“What you see,” Natasha raised her arms, “is what I have with me.” She’s traveling lighter than she had before and making do with calling in favors to get around long distances where flying domestic is impossible for a dead woman. Especially an armed dead woman.

It was always something to realize Dariya was a grown woman now, in some ways that made things easier and in others not so much. It reminded Natasha of how much she had missed that she could never get back for either of them. But the best way to make up for the past was to make the most of things now and in the future.

Death was a hell of a life lesson, Natasha was finding out, it left her stripped raw in so many ways, forcing her to confront things she kept buried for so long under the proverbial rug, one of which was walking next to her arm in arm.

Just as James had taught her things in the Red Room, helped to remind her she was human still and capable of warmth and love, so too had Dariya helped with that. The Red Room had never intended them to know one another, especially not to know Dariya, but they had and for a time, Natasha realized now she had that little family she thought she had lost all the chances for in a forest of Slovakia and she could still have it now, even with her daughter grown.

“Thank you…” Natasha didn’t know what else to say and she wasn’t even sure this was right either, “for not giving up on me.” It’s a humbling thing, given that Darcy had ever reason and right to have given up with Natasha trying to give her things she felt that her daughter needed only she had failed to realize that all those things, Dariya had wanted them from her and with her.

“You know, we could spend a few days, maybe hit some amusement parks?” She suggests, wanting to enjoy it being just the two of them for a little while before going back, and also take that time to prepare herself for that, going home to see her family, their family.

That was...surprising to say the least. While Natasha traveled light for the most part she still had things with her, a bug out back at least. Hearing how she didn’t even have that...this whole thing was just too many lessons in weird and she thought the murderous purple grape was as weird as it got. Clearly she was mistaken. Then again having her mother die and come back to life was also pretty damn strange.

Clearly she needed to reassess her life.

“Well, I’ll grab my bag then and we can head out.” Darcy smiled at her mother before chuckling slightly, “Won’t have to worry ‘bout checked luggage.” Not that they would’ve before, traveling armed was frowned upon on civilian airlines. Which was why most of the time it was either a private plane, thank you Tony, or the quinjet. Or she supposed none of the above thanks to some special favors the little family had gathered over the years.

She looked over at her mother at her thanks, looking briefly confused before Natasha finished her thought, eyebrows shooting up in surprise before finally settling somewhere between confusion and pleasure. She liked praise from her parents and it was more rare to get it from her mother than her father; so it always felt doubly good when she did mange to wrangle one. But why on Earth...

“Why would I ever do that?” Honestly the more she thought on it the more confused she felt. Despite their differences on opinion on what she needed and their less than normal relationship Natasha was still her mother and she loved her deeply. Darcy knew that she was loyal to a fault, combine that with the love she felt there was no way for her to give up on people that she had accepted as her own. Honestly she wasn’t sure what her parents would have to do in order to not have that dedication. At times it was concerning, but it was just how she was.

At the suggestion it felt like all of her childhood dreams had come true in that moment. Without prompting her mother suggested spending time together that involved just the two of them and something fun. Granted that fun could have been just about anything, not just what normal people considered fun. Sparing, dancing, training, anything would’ve been received with just as much delight.

She pretended to consider the suggestion, ignoring how she was nearly vibrating with excitement at the idea.

When did her daughter get so wise? Had she always been like this? It bowled Natasha over a bit to hear the things that were coming from Dariya. Darcy. It made her realize she barely knew her, she had barely known her as a child, but now standing before her was a grown woman and a stranger.

Natasha had done so much wrong by her, could she make up for it now? She knew lost time was lost, there was no way to recover it, but here and now matter the most anyways and the past was just that, the past and the future was not something to worry about too much as it was never quite fixed, instead it could be altered in the simplest of ways.

“He would be,” Natasha agreed. What was that relationship like now? Even before, when he was simply the Soldier, he had been far better with their daughter than Natasha ever was, he wasn’t afraid of her, he hadn’t had any reason to be, no trauma in that way to make it a struggle to interact with her.

Could Darcy tell her Mother was scared? Frightened by her circumstances? Natasha felt it wasn’t right to let her daughter see fear in her, weren’t Mothers supposed to be a beacon of strength for their daughters? She didn’t really know, Natasha had never known her Mother or had a Mother figure in her life. There had only been Ivan.

What did she want to do?

Natasha didn’t know, this was not a moment she was prepared for or even planned on, but she should have. She should have known if anyone could find her, Dariya could and would.

“Go home?” Natasha inquired as her response, uncertainty in her tone. She was lost, and truthfully it was an exhausting existence.

Dariya waited patiently as she could while her mother thought over her question. Likely deciding on how she wanted to answer and then her words. While she didn’t know what exactly was going on her head she knew that something was up. Natasha seemed...off, twitchy and tired. It almost reminded her of when she was younger and her mother threw off far more fear at her presence. 

But this wasn’t directed at her so she wasn’t entirely sure why she seemed so on edge. It didn’t even occur to her that the very fact that she had died and come back to life was why she was feeling this way. Natasha typically seemed more concerned with those around her rather than herself which was why it didn’t really occur to her in the first place.

Relief flooded through her when her mother said she wanted to go home, followed closely by discomfort hearing the waver in her tone. It so wasn’t how she was used to hearing her mother’s voice that it really threw her.

Most of the time she tuned out that tone when she was younger but still reacted to it by not reaching for her mother as often. In a turn of events this time she wasn’t going to withdraw from her mother but go towards her instead.

She smiled and reached for her mother, gently looping their arms together.

“Awesome, this L.A. heat is something else. I’d take the winters over this any day.” It was said flippantly, meant to amuse her mother and lift her mood. “Also everyone back home is going to eat their words.” Was she also a little smug about being right? Maybe.

“So, shall we swing by wherever you were holing up and grab our bags to get the heck outta here?”