Chapter Text
It turns out that integrating a brainwashed 100-year-old super soldier into a new world was actually a rare skill set. Who knew?
Darcy Lewis, resident scientist wrangler and tutor in all things pop culture for the chronologically disadvantaged, wondered if she was up to the challenge. Because after Steve brought his new/old BFF back to the Tower—and after there’d been a lot of shouting, some discreet crying, and a whole lot of attempted murder that only stopped after Pepper Potts (the goddess) talked Tony off the proverbial ledge and got all involved parties into serious therapy—it quickly became apparent that James Buchanan Barnes would be a much more complex integration case than Thor or Steve Rogers.
Thor has been the ideal first subject for a new Chronological Integrator. (Now that Darcy was officially on her third case, that was what she’d be calling herself. In email signatures, anyway.) He was enthusiastic, boisterous, and straightforward. Not dumb: lots of people made that mistake, but only once. But he said exactly what he thought and he preferred action to chitchat. And as a prince, he took it for granted that he was allowed anywhere and had no fear of anything Midgard could offer. Integrating Thor had mostly been a process of finding him snacks and apologizing for the property damage.
Plus, he was in love with Jane, and Jane was Darcy’s friend. That meant Thor had to put up with Darcy’s bullshit or risk Jane’s wrath.
Tasing him had also earned her some serious points.
Steve was more challenging, but there were ways through. He was a naturally curious guy with a weirdly optimistic streak for someone who’d had to fight literal Nazis. He soaked up information like a sponge and threw himself eagerly into learning more. When he learned she was willing to help him get acclimatized to the twenty-first century, he jumped in feet-first.
Darcy had pretty much adopted him the second she and Jane moved into the Tower, and how could you not? This was a man who’d missed more than fifty years of cartoons! Everyone else was telling him about JFK and the moon landings, but no one put a single damn thought into realizing that he’d never seen the best classic Looney Tunes ever made.
Introducing Captain America to “Duck Dodgers in the 24 ½th Century” was one of the highlights of Darcy’s life. She put that shit on her resume.
On his days off, Steve would hit up museums and art galleries. He wanted to see everything, try everything. It broke his heart that the Dodgers had moved to LA, but New York still had baseball, and Stark Industries always had a premium box reserved.
While they ate overpriced hot dogs and watched the Mets lose, Steve told her about the last time he saw a game. To her surprise, it wasn’t the Dodgers.
“We were a Dodgers neighborhood, no question. But no one on our block could spare much money for tickets,” he explained. “You could see the Giants for free, though, if you knew where to go. We’d head up to Coogan’s Bluff by the river. You could see a slice of the Polo Grounds from there—mostly the right outfield.”
He grinned at her, that stupid wonderful America’s Sweetheart smile making Darcy’s cynical millennial heart grow three sizes that day. “The Giants right fielder was always the most popular player in the tenements. He was the only one we ever saw!”
Shit like that. Goddammit. And now here he was, that poor kid from Brooklyn, marooned in a century that wasn’t supposed to be his and knowing all his friends and family were gone. And he could still smile despite everything. And he still cheered for the right fielder, even though this wasn’t his team or even his world.
Sometimes she cried, a little bit, when she realized what all of the superheroes around her had been through. Steve the lost boy. Thor had seen his only brother go insane. Iron Man got torn up and tortured in a cave. The Hulk, ‘nuff said. Hawkeye and Black Widow—who knew what happened to them? They weren’t talking. But both of them sure checked every angle and always went armed, even surrounded by friendlies. This whole team was a basket of basket cases.
Then Bucky Barnes arrived, and Steve came to her with his big sad blue eyes and handed her the most intricately woven basket case yet.
“I hate to trouble you, but you really helped me out,” he said. “And I, uh … I think Bucky needs to talk to people who aren’t me or Sam. But someone who’s not gonna set him off.”
Darcy chewed her lip, thinking. That seemed to worry Steve.
“You’ll be safe!” he added quickly. “I swear. Bucky’s doing a lot better now. They’re figuring out ways to get the trigger words out. And Thor said he’d be your bodyguard if you want to take Bucky out of the tower—like you did with me, remember? Thor can fly, so he can monitor from a distance, and you won’t have to worry—“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Darcy held up her hands. “It’s OK, Cap. I’m not scared.”
She probably should be, but after the Destroyer and the Dark Elves, she’d suffered critical damage to the self-preservation lobe of her brain.
“I’m just wondering where I should start,” she explained. “There’s a lot to catch up on, and he doesn’t seem as chipper and open-minded as you.”
“He’s a good guy, Darcy.” Steve almost sounded like he was pleading. “I promise. You won’t regret it.”
“I believe you,” she said, giving him the finger guns. “Relax, Cap. Darcy Lewis is on the case!”
And if this one worked out good, she was going to nag Tony into making Chronological Integrator an official position. It’d look great on LinkedIn.