The moment he stepped away, offering her ample room to bolt, Darcy was nearly overcome with guilt. This was someone they’d taken in, shown kindness to, brought into their fold warmly, and she was treating him like a criminal for lying about his involvement with SHIELD. It was a big deal no matter her emotional response. He’d betrayed their trust and refused to explain his actions adequately.
Where did his knowledge stem from? Who was he? What had he done to isolate himself so terribly, and was it something he might repeat and, in the process, hurt Darcy and Jane?
Mind traveling in circles, Darcy kept returning to the quiet moments they’d shared together. Leita had provided something she was hungry for without her consciously realizing it: legitimate respect. He spoke to her as an equal, listening to her input, taking it into consideration, never dismissing her out of hand no matter how ridiculous she got.
Logic insisted she was an idiot, and she had nothing but instinct to go on, but Darcy trusted him still. Damage had been done to that trust, perhaps irreparably, but Darcy of all people understood what it was like to be a fuck up.
She would also find no answers should she run, or if he left. There was a story he was not telling, and she wanted to hear it.
“Wait,” she said, impulsive as always. One hand clenched in a fist and then relaxed as she fought with herself, battling those terribly inconsistent parts of her that told her to do ten different things at once. Should she offer him a second chance?
Had anyone else ever bothered to do so?
Projecting her own issues onto Leita was a problem, but Darcy did so nonetheless, able to count on one hand how often she’d been given the opportunity. Being wronged in the past was no reason to forgive another person, but she had yet to forgive.
Sighing, Darcy dropped her keys on a side table and set her bag beside it. Leita had never harmed them, even when given ample opportunity. Why would he choose to do so now?
“Wait,” she repeated, wringing her hands together before forcing herself to stop. She tried to channel Jane, to be calm and collected and know all the right questions to ask, but her nerves got in the way. Finally, she fell back on the simplest.
“What is your real name?”
She was offering him a chance. Hopefully he would take it.
no subject
Where did his knowledge stem from? Who was he? What had he done to isolate himself so terribly, and was it something he might repeat and, in the process, hurt Darcy and Jane?
Mind traveling in circles, Darcy kept returning to the quiet moments they’d shared together. Leita had provided something she was hungry for without her consciously realizing it: legitimate respect. He spoke to her as an equal, listening to her input, taking it into consideration, never dismissing her out of hand no matter how ridiculous she got.
Logic insisted she was an idiot, and she had nothing but instinct to go on, but Darcy trusted him still. Damage had been done to that trust, perhaps irreparably, but Darcy of all people understood what it was like to be a fuck up.
She would also find no answers should she run, or if he left. There was a story he was not telling, and she wanted to hear it.
“Wait,” she said, impulsive as always. One hand clenched in a fist and then relaxed as she fought with herself, battling those terribly inconsistent parts of her that told her to do ten different things at once. Should she offer him a second chance?
Had anyone else ever bothered to do so?
Projecting her own issues onto Leita was a problem, but Darcy did so nonetheless, able to count on one hand how often she’d been given the opportunity. Being wronged in the past was no reason to forgive another person, but she had yet to forgive.
Sighing, Darcy dropped her keys on a side table and set her bag beside it. Leita had never harmed them, even when given ample opportunity. Why would he choose to do so now?
“Wait,” she repeated, wringing her hands together before forcing herself to stop. She tried to channel Jane, to be calm and collected and know all the right questions to ask, but her nerves got in the way. Finally, she fell back on the simplest.
“What is your real name?”
She was offering him a chance. Hopefully he would take it.