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Bucky/Darcy, Clark the Cat
There was a girl in Darcy’s room. Bucky, frozen against the wall next to the doorframe, quickly and quietly removed the Baby Glock from his boot. JARVIS had been disabled after the attack on the Tower earlier that day, Jane, who had been tranq’d in the fight, was currently sleeping off the drugs in her bedroom, and Thor was off-world. He was on his own. He looked at her again out of the corner of his eye, gun held lightly in both hands. She had long, dark hair and her posture - slumped forward on the bed, head in her hands - told Bucky she wasn’t an assassin, or, at least, she was Natasha-level good at pretending not to be.
He watched her for two seconds, and then she started to lift her head, and Bucky stepped out from his hiding spot and leveled the gun at her. “Who are -” His throat clogged up and he almost dropped the gun in a way entirely unbecoming of a long-time killer.
“Holy fuck! Oh my god, Bucky, can you see me?” Darcy breathed, her eyes wide with surprise. Clark, the cat he had come to feed, blinked calmly at Bucky from his position next to his owner’s legs.
He dropped the gun. “Darcy - doll - when - I,” he stuttered, “I’m so, so sorry.” Bucky rushed to her as quickly as he could, but when he sat down on the bed and made to hug her, she lifted her hand in a ‘stop’ motion. He instantly recoiled.
“No! It’s not that, it’s not you,” Darcy said. Her watery eyes reflected Bucky’s own.
Bucky stared at her in disbelief, drinking in her teary face and small, desperate smile. Then his supersoldier brain caught up with his heart, and the details came trickling in: her loose, curly hair (Nat combed and braided it whenever she could), her Yosemite shirt and grey boxers (he vividly remembered doctors cutting them off), the silver Star of David necklace around her neck (it sat on his bedside table and taunted him every day). And how could she have gotten here from the hospital floor? He suddenly realized she had an almost blue tinge to her, and something inside of him clicked. “You aren’t her,” he said hoarsely. “I’m - this is a dream.”
“No,” Darcy repeated, pleading. She almost reached for him, then stopped. “I’m here! I’ve been here all along but no one has seen me! Jane, Steve, Nat, even Thor, I don’t have any answers why. It’s like some horrible, messed up Twilight Zone shit. I just woke up like this two months ago and I saw my body -”
“Saw your body?” Bucky’s mind was whirring.
Quick as a flash, he eagerly stretched out his human hand towards her, leaving it hovering an inch above her knee.
She grimaced. “In the cliche words of supernatural teens everywhere: Don’t freak out.” And then she put her fingers to his - and when he curled up his reflexively, they passed through her like she wasn’t there.
“What the fuck,” Bucky said. Darcy’s hand moved like she was caressing his palm, but all he could feel was an incredibly faint tingling.
“Yeah, I know. I think - Bucky, I think you need to call Doctor Strange.”
Coma AU!!! I can’t remember exactly when I thought of it but I’ve wanted this fic for a while. Originally, she was a “ghost” haunting Bucky’s apartment in the Tower, but it’s changed a bit. (And yep, Bucky caused her injury. I think I might revisit this universe, so honestly hit me up if you prefer the more or less angsty version of how he did so. Either way, Jane really, really hates him, and only talks to him when it’s about Clark or Darcy.)
Today’s charity link is The Cat House on the Kings! It’s a no-kill, open sanctuary that houses hundreds of cats. You can support them with cash, sponsorship of animals, sending supplies, and shopping through Amazon Smile.
